#i remember writing it clearly and in plain text at set up

[celtiberian-idiot]

Proceeds to install VM. "It's late at night but it won't take that long" I say to myself.

It took that long.

Set up user, password, everything. Machine installs and boots up. Try to log in. "Incorrect password" try again. Incorrect away. "Either this thing isn't working properly or I forgot the user and password in the time it finished installing" either way I don't care, delete VM and maybe another day I'll try.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

love is embarrassing

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

a.n. i can't be blamed for this. i swear, this is the last part. (but like, i also reserve the right to do another one if the mood strikes). i just have so much fun writing these two.

bad idea right? | get him back! | love is embarrassing

you loved romance. you loved reading it. you loved watching a good rom com. you loved the idea of love.

you just wish someone would have told you how embarrassing it all was. love is embarrassing. plain and simple. it’s humiliating. and no movie, no book, no past relationship ever prepared you for how much you were willing to embarrass yourself for bucky barnes.

no one prepared you for hearing that tired sigh and watching your friends roll their eyes. every single time without fail.

“we broke up.”

“we’re back together.”

“we’re just keeping it casual.”

“i love him.”

“i hate him.”

bucky barnes had literally driven you to the brink of madness. then reeled you back in. then pushed you head first over the cliff. and as much as you wanted to hate him for it, you know you've done the exact same thing to him too.

something about the two of you, whether together or broken up, turned to usually level headed, composed agents into immature, borderline insane people.

dignity, both yours and his, was no longer a consideration in your relationship.

it was simple, neither of you had any left.

not when you kept falling into each other's beds and arms over and over again.

and in spite of all of this, in spite of all the embarrassment, the moment bucky texts you and asks you to meet him for a coffee, you agree - but only after making him wait several hours for a simple 'okay'.

here you sit before him, sipping on your tea, wondering where the hell your pride went. you were sure you had it right before bucky texted you.

bucky lets out a deep sigh, his hands anxiously rubbing together. "I just - i thought that maybe we should talk. alone. and i didn't want you to think that i was just trying to -"

"hook up?"

he nods, his lips pressed together, "exactly."

"it's not like everyone doesn't already know what's going on between us."

he immediately looks apologetic. you hate that. you hate that deep down, bucky barnes is actually a really good person, just not a great ex-boyfriend.

the real kicker was that he was actually a really great boyfriend, at least, from what you remember. "i should've told you that sam and steve found out."

your shoulders slump in defeat as you acquiesce, "and i should've told you that natasha and wanda found out."

his mouth twists. "so everyone knows, huh?"

"pretty much... does that surprise you?"

"i mean, i guess not. it's not like we were subtle about any of it."

you playfully snort, "no, i guess we weren't."

"why did we break up?"

"you don't remember that huge fight we had?"

"no, i remember that. i remember being really pissed off. i remember saying things that i didn't mean. i just can't remember why i didn't go after you. i can't remember why you didn't come back. and i can't remember why we gave up so easily."

the crazy thing was you could hardly remember what the fight was about. his ego. your temper. conflicting work schedules. the reality was you both blew up that night. "i don't remember either."

"why the hell are we still broken up?"

pride, mostly.

it was always the ugly head that reared itself in your relationship.

you were too proud to admit that you were wrong.

he was too proud to admit that he was wrong.

you were both too proud to be the first one to lay your armor down.

"it’s just..." you start, shaking your head and immediately backtracking, "forget it."

"it’s clearly something," bucky urges.

"it’s embarrassing."

"i promise i won’t give you shit about whatever you say."

"no, bucky, it’s embarrassing..."

his jaw sets to the side, his teeth clicking together. "us? we’re embarrassing? you’re embarrassed to be with me?"

"no! yes! no - it’s - this whole back and forth. if i get back together with you now - which i'm not saying i will - what does that say about me?"

he scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "i didn't realize you cared that much about what other people thought of you."

"don't patronize me," you sneer. "you've embarrassed the shit out of me over and over again. forgive me for having some self respect."

"i think i'm falling in love with him," you confess.

"i'm so happy for you!" wanda squeals.

"barnes!" natasha greets him. "we were just talking about you two, so much for being a lone wolf, huh?"

bucky wraps an arm around you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. he scoffs, "nothing's changed. we're just keeping it casual."

"i've embarassed you?" bucky guffaws. "you're not exactly innocent in this either."

"me?" you gasp. "what the hell did i do to you?"

"i think she's the one," bucky wistfully admits.

sam rolls his eyes. "you've been dating like a month."

"i'm not seeing your point."

"hey, sam," you greet him, making a point to glare at bucky as you pass the two of them on the way to the bar.

"oh shit," sam chuckles. "someone's in trouble."

"what? no i'm not - " bucky's words are cut off by the sight of you flipping him off as you walk away. "i stand corrected."

"you've done plenty," bucky grunts.

"and now, now, all i hear now is everyone's opinion of what they think i should do!" you exclaim. "do you know how humiliating it is to have everyone's opinions of whether or not i should be with you?"

“you’ll never get over him if you’re still under him, if you get what i mean,” nat quips.

you roll your eyes. “you have the subtlety of a brick wall.”

"you were the one that was all over sam at the bar the other night!" he accuses.

"and you were flirting with some random stranger in front of all of our friends!" you shoot back.

"people are staring," bucky points out.

you hang your head. great, you've embarrassed yourself once again in this back and forth with bucky. "i'm just tired of hearing what everyone thinks about this back and forth."

"but what do you think?" he emphasizes. "because, honestly, i'll embarrass myself over and over again if it means i could have you back. just name a time and a place and i'll be there." you're taken aback by bucky's offer. he was a proud man. there was no denying that. and maybe it's the fact that there's nothing but sincerity gleaming in his eyes or the fact that he's willing to give up something he values so much for you. maybe romance isn't dead after all. "or maybe, maybe we just stop. we stop this back and forth. we stop acting like kids, stop trying to get back at each other. we just... love each other without worrying about what everyone else thinks."

"oh fuck," you hiss under your breath as the realization hits you.

"what?"

you don't say anything. you just realized that you're about to embarrass yourself one last time for bucky barnes.

who cares? after all, love is embarrassing.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams @shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes@beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a@weallhaveadestiny@mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064@michealharrypotter @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @withyoutilltheendoftheline @the-photo-hoe @rae-nna @sarachabeans1

[extratrrestrial]

TYPEFACES I THINK THE MOBSAI MAIN CAST WOULD USE

Decided to be insane and come up with some headcanons on the typefaces each character would use. Please shout at me about it on the psychohelmet forum if you get the chance. I've copied and pasted the headcanons under the read more for your viewing pleasure.

I wanted to share my headcanons for the different fonts (using this term very generally) each of the mobsai main cast would use (if we are imagining that they were given free rein to do so for some reason, and also that they wrote using a latin alphabet, obviously) which I just made up off the top of my head right now.

Anyway, here we go:

Mob - Calibri

I think this one makes a lot of sense, just off the bat. I really don't think Mob would be a serif sort of guy, he's too plain and unassuming for that. What better than to make him a very default font. I honestly don't think you can even get more default than calibri. It even sounds a little lame when you say it. Despite that, it's a pretty dependable font, it appears everywhere, and I would argue is very powerful due to its universality and legibility on any-sized devices. But don't just take my word for it, here's what Microsoft has to say about it: "Its proportions allow high impact in tightly set lines of big and small text alike. Calibri’s many curves and the new rasteriser team up in bigger sizes to reveal a warm and soft character." I would argue that this clearly reflects Mob's welcoming character and desire to understand and empathise with any number of characters within the show.

Reigen - Arial

Again, I do feel like this just makes sense to me. Reigen is also a real sans-serif sort of guy, he's the greatest psychic of the 21st century, he's spice city's bro! Arial I feel is also a little more professional than calibri, while still being quite similar in appearance, which I feel reflects the influence Reigen has over Mob's character and development within the story. Described by Microsoft as an "extremely versatile" typeface, especially "for display use in newspapers, advertising and promotions", I think this works well for Reigen's character. It's also a pretty dyslexia friendly font, which I think would be a fun fact he'd shoot at Mob.

Dimple - Papyrus

This one was a little tricky. I wanted it to look dated, considering Dimple's been dead for some time, while also being a little flashy to reflect his desires for godhood. I settled on papyrus because, well, look at it. It's definitely what I'd consider a meme typeface (which I think is fitting for a sentient fart, honestly), but it's also loud without being too out there, and a popular and fun font to use. It's unapologetic and real, which I think Dimple represents as a character, and the complete opposite of a font like calibri. It also looks good in green.

Ritsu - Times New Roman

Ritsu is absolutely a serif guy, through and through. He's always on that 12pt Times New Roman shit, even if he's just writing a casual email to someone. Ritsu is someone who takes things seriously, and has a reputation he wants/needs to uphold. I'm sure he read somewhere that TNR (I'm not writing that shit out again) was the professional font and just made it his whole personality or something. It looks good, so I'm not complaining. I've also heard that TNR is a good font to make study notes in, because you remember it better (I think this was a myth uni students used to tell each other though) but I'm sure he stands behind this fact wholeheartedly.

Teru - Blackadder ITC

Just listen to what Microsoft has to say here in its overview of this font: "Blackadder ITC font is an elegant, yet menacing display face is perfect for theatrical uses and scare tactics." Not only is it elegant and swirly, but works well with his flashy appearances and fashion choices throughout the show. It's impressive and makes a scene when it appears, and walks the line between impressive and gaudy very well for someone as in-TERU-sting as Hanazawa. I do think he'd switch around fonts a little, but this would be his favourite for sure.

Serizawa - Roboto

This one was also hard, and I'm not sure I did him justice. I think, given Serizawa's lack of real-life experience outside of a terrorist organisation as well as his time online, I wanted to go with a font that was professionally acceptable, but still a bit of an outlier. Roboto is also the default font on android devices, and all other google services, which I figured would reflect the 'shut in' phase of his life. It's sorta plain, but does the job and follows the rules without asking too many questions. I think if we were talking specifics, he'd be Roboto Mono.

Tome - Courier New

I need to preface this explanation by saying I love Tome. More than almost all of the characters in this show. She reminds me a lot of myself as a kid. This one's personal. Tome is obsessed with proving the existence of aliens, or any sort of extraterrestrial and paranormal activity. She starts the Telepathy club to research these phenomena, she's absolutely committed (apart from in that one episode) to show the world she's right, to have her friends take her interests seriously. I think she'd want to use a font that was interesting to look at, while still being serious-enough to reflect her passion for pursuing the truth. She probably watched the X-Files as a kid and really wanted to type up some legit-looking reports on the unexplained. No I'm not projecting.

Shou - Comic Sans MS

I mean, what did you expect. He uses Comic Sans for all his reports and thinks he's the funniest guy ever for doing so. He also just likes how it looks, I think he'd be into superhero comics and would love to make any work he does look similar. Not only is it a funny text face, Microsoft also calls it "useful" due to its readability. I think that definitely mirrors Shou's extraversion and his role as a helpful figure, both to Ritsu and to his father at the conclusion of his arc. I also bet he logs on to Toichiro's desktop sometimes and changes his default email font to comic sans too, probably makes the fantastic five or whatever they're called piss themselves with laughter. Also a frequent Wingdings user, for sure.

Toichiro - Futura

Guess I have to put him in here too, since I talked about Shou. I chose Futura here for what it stands for, a purely geometric and efficient typeface which I feel reflects Suzuki's ethos of wanting to be the best and creating a world where 'supreme beings' rule over normal humans. The progressive feel Futura has here becomes skewed, not towards a bright future but towards a descruction of the old order and a rebuilding of an ESPer-led world. An incredibly popular font, which I feel is all about appearances and precision, it wants its letters to stand in line, breaking away from the old 'grotesque' style of former sans-serif fonts. Do you see my vision?

Sample of their fonts below:

[maziijapanese]

Mastering Kanji as a Visual Learner: A Practical Guide

Learning Kanji can feel like a daunting task for many Japanese learners, and understandably so. With thousands of characters to memorize, each holding unique meanings and pronunciations, Kanji often presents a major hurdle. However, for visual learners, mastering Kanji can be made easier through effective techniques and tools tailored to their learning style. In this blog, I’ll share my personal experience and strategies for learning Kanji visually.

1. Visual Flashcards: The Cornerstone of Learning

For a visual learner, flashcards are one of the most effective tools for committing Kanji to memory. But instead of just plain text, I recommend using visual flashcards that incorporate:

Images: Relate the Kanji to images that symbolize the meaning of the character. For example, for the Kanji 木 (tree), you could include an image of a tree to strengthen the mental association.

Definitions: Keep the meaning of the Kanji in mind by clearly including it on the flashcard.

Pronunciations: Adding the readings, both Kun'yomi and On'yomi, will help you remember how to say the characters.

Contextual Examples: Use the Kanji in simple sentences or phrases so that you can recognize how it is used in context.

By combining these visual elements, your brain can make connections between the Kanji’s shape, meaning, and usage. Flashcards are a great way to make learning active and engaging.

2. Leverage Memorization Techniques: The Leitner System

While visual flashcards are essential, combining them with the right memorization method is what will ensure long-term retention. One such technique is the Leitner System, a spaced repetition method designed to make you focus on what’s most difficult.

Here’s how it works:

Start by sorting Kanji into five categories based on difficulty.

If you remember a Kanji correctly, it moves up to a higher level.

If you forget it, it moves back to a lower level.

You review the Kanji from the lower levels more frequently than those in the higher ones, ensuring more attention to challenging characters.

This structured approach helps keep your review sessions efficient and prevents the overwhelm that can come from reviewing hundreds of Kanji at once.

3. SRS (Spaced Repetition System) for Optimized Learning

Spaced Repetition Systems (SRS) are another effective strategy that works hand-in-hand with visual flashcards. SRS adjusts the review intervals of each Kanji based on how well you know it. The idea is to review characters right before you’re about to forget them, which helps embed them into your long-term memory.

Popular apps like Anki or Mazii utilize this principle, and they often allow you to add images and examples, perfect for visual learners.

4. Consistent Practice: The Key to Mastery

While tools and techniques are essential, consistent practice is what will ultimately lead to mastery. Setting a daily or weekly routine that includes reviewing your flashcards, writing out Kanji by hand, and practicing Kanji in context (such as reading or writing) is crucial. Progress may be slow, but steady, and over time, you will begin to recognize more and more characters.

Conclusion

Mastering Kanji as a visual learner is all about tapping into your strengths. Using visual flashcards enhanced with images, incorporating the Leitner system, and taking advantage of SRS technology will streamline your learning process and make it more enjoyable. With the right tools and consistent effort, you’ll find that Kanji, once a challenging obstacle, becomes an integral part of your Japanese language journey.

Keep at it, and soon you’ll unlock the richness of Japanese through Kanji!

[twntyfiveotwo]

it’s ok to write about you

kept saying over and over again, that it will be my last time talking about you. i decide, maybe it’s time i stop lying to myself. and that it’s okay if i want to talk about you even if we no longer talk. because you were such a huge part of my life, how can i just pretend you don’t exist. that’s such an unhealthy way to grief, like i’m just denying my own emotions when i know fking well that just cause i deny them doesn’t mean they’re not that. eventually it will still hit me, and i will still feel like shit

my best friend told me im too smart for my own good, she’s probably right. it gets tiring when i over-analyse everything - people’s words, people’s behaviours, even my own thoughts. does not help that i’m so detail-oriented i pick up the smallest details that other people don’t see. i simply refuse to believe things are just “plain coincidences”, especially when these “coincidences” keep happening back to back. a part of my brain will say “it’s just songs sis, it’s not that deep. people listen to songs without looking at the lyrics most of the time”, “he alr rejected you for good. you promised yourself that you’re going to take his words as it is and not turn back anymore”. yes i know that. like any rational person will call me out for being deluded because who the fk looks at so many minor details and call them “evidences”. like i can just be twisting all the meaning of these details into what i want to believe isn’t it? like it can mean absolutely nothing isn’t it? i tried so hard to brainwash myself but i cant. call it my instinct or what not, it’s so fking hard to believe that these are just coincidences one after another

#1 when i asked you “that to you i’ll always be a friend only”, why did you avoid it initially? before replying “i do think that’s best” when i asked for your reply in regards to that question but what do you mean by “you do think that’s best”? do you remember i asked you the same question years ago when we were friends, your reply was straightforward af. i asked you if my feelings were all one-sided, about how i like you and seeing you as more than a friend. there was no hesitation, you gave me a clear cut, to the point answer. all you replied was “ya”. that straightup helped me to know where i clearly stand, and the kind of boundaries you have set for me. which was why even tho after you rejected me, and even tho i still had feelings for you, i had never once felt like you were going to reciprocate any of that. i was ready to let my feelings stay as some form of unrequited love, as long as it meant i could stay by your side

#2 after your reply i got mad. because it took me so much courage to text you only to get such an iffy answer. so i told you to stop being nice, to stop beating around the bush, and to just tell me the truth. that i needed a definite answer to stop acting like a deluded mofo. but you wanted to avoid my question, once again. “i think we should just stop. idk how to say this anymore. it’s not healthy for u or me” so what am i supposed to feel from that? because years back when i asked you a similar question you had no problem giving me a straightforward answer. what do you mean by you don’t know how to say this anymore. when all you had to say was “yes, you’ll always only be a friend to me” “just a friend, nothing more”. what do you mean by it’s not healthy for me or you? you can’t decide whether it’s unhealthy for me. did you think it was unhealthy because you’re scared i might become depressed if you were to hurt me? that’s not how it works. me pushing myself to have a hard conversation w you was my way of making sure i don’t let the mental situation get any worse than it should be. and honestly, i felt a lot better after talking to you. but what did you mean that it was unhealthy for you? were you afraid of being the bad guy, for hurting me? but you rejected me before. we continued being friends despite that. there was nothing you need to feel guilty over. or, were you afraid of being honest w your feelings? that it would be unhealthy if we were to both explore the feelings we have for each other, and make our current relationships a mess? idk. but then again, it’s something i would never be able to find out isn’t it?

#3 during our conversation that day, i asked if your Spotify playlist meant anything. you said probably not, they are mostly based on your gf’s taste in music. is it really? i mean i’m not about to doubt that those music are probably based on your gf’s recommendations. but when i mentioned your Spotify playlist, it’s so fking obvious i stalk them. and here comes the coincidence, you created a new public playlist 12 hours after our conversation. and so happens, you changed the name of the playlist that i think was about me from “bobba” to “bops”, without changing the names of your other 3 existing playlists. not to mention the new playlist you created, there were some songs in there w lyrics that are confusing af song #1 is talking about a passionate romance strained by physical and emotional separation is it not describing us both in our own physical relationships, not being able to come together? song #2 contains lyrics “don’t think it’s just a feeling. i’m gonna love you i mean it. sending all my emotions away. breathing, keep it to myself again” does it not mean that you do have feelings for me but you dont tell anyone about it song #6 is about reminiscing on a past r/s. that some part of him still wants to be w the person he was w and wonders if the other person feels the same idk what to feel about this anymore. but if only you knew, when i finally pluck up the courage to go talk to you, i was ready to drop everything to run towards you if i heard what i wanted to hear song #7 contained lyrics like “i’ve been in love w her for ages. i can’t seem to get it right. i fell in love w her in stages. my whole life”. and the song is talking about being infatuated w a friend who doesn’t feel the same way that he does about her it’s just songs right. they are just song lyrics right. like it’s not that deep right? for all these coincidences to happen over and over again

song #12 contained lyrics like “and even if we’re just friends. we could be more than that”. and the song is implying about some sort of unrequited love. that both parties have the capacity to love each other but there is a third party interrupting their connection must be me being delusional. song lyrics shouldn’t be hitting me so hard

i sound like a delusional fk honestly reading into these amount of details. but honestly, i’m tired. i realised something - it doesnt matter whether i’m right or wrong. even if i insist that my instincts are not wrong, even if i manage to prove that all these analysis i have is right, it doesn’t matter. i cant force you to fight if you dont want to. idw to self-depricate myself and be like “am i not worth you trying to fight?” like fk that shit. i’m done comparing myself w her. she is good in her own ways, and i am good in my own ways. the fact is you’re a peacelover, and it’s just not in your DNA to fight for things. and that’s okay. i guess you’re right that the conversation would end up being unhealthy, cause so what if we find out we’re what the other person really wants, it would mean we need to hurt our current partner to get to where the other person is. do they deserve that? no. but that’s the difference between you and me. i would think that w only one shot in life, i wouldn’t want to miss out being together w the person that i love the most. but w you, i guess that’s the price you pay for being so kind. which you’ve always been. which is also why i love you so much

i am still going to be me. i am still going to be honest about how i feel about you. that even w us being apart, i think there’s always a piece of my heart that will always love you. and i’m still going to enjoy playing league and apex more than valorant. i’m still going to enjoy douyin more than tiktok. and im still going to listen to more chinese songs than english songs. im still going to like ballads more than rock songs. now that i think about it, maybe we won’t even be a good fit for each other. as much as i love you so damn much, we are so different. idk if that would matter, but i guess as of now maybe our current partner is a better fit for us

[anika-ann]

Attached: Word Is that We Might Work It Out

Type: Modern-college-professor AU - part of Attached series 

Pairing: professor!Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 6850🙈

Summary: You said yes to Professor Rogers – Steve – taking you out for ‘coffee’. Ball’s in your court – and you decide to make your move. 

A date, maybe first of many, maybe not. A date with the gorgeous professor who happened to read your erotica about him. What could possibly go wrong? 

Warnings:  alcohol consumption, professor-student relationship and unspecified age gap, language, lots of fluff

A/N: Timeline-wise, this one-shot fits in after chapter four of Attached!!! At the end, you can find the reason behind me writing this. You can consider it one big flashback, if you will 😅 Gif by capchrisevaans.

Series masterlist | previous in timeline

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

You lasted one day. One full day since the encounter in the office, since Professor Rogers admitted he would like to take you out for coffee or something similar. Since you two exchanged numbers.

It took you twenty-four hours – maybe less – to decide that so what if that might be a bad idea. It was not against the university rules and Professor Steve Rogers was a fucking specimen who also seemed to be a genuinely nice human being and if you allowed yourself to play chicken just because something only might go wrong in the future, you’d be an idiot.

Penny, your roomie, wholeheartedly agreed. She actually punched the air in victory as you were nursing a greasy lunch due to the wild-ish celebration of the end of the semester together the night prior and you just said to the void: “You know what, screw it. I’m gonna go for it.”

You didn’t even have to say what you were talking about – Professor Rogers had been the topic ever since the faithful Monday.

So you texted him that if the offer still stood, you’d like to meet up on Friday evening. Was he free?

Hey, Y/N :) Thank you for reaching out. Friday sounds great. Do you have anything specific in mind?

“Dude. He’s such a cutie. Who even texts like that?” Penny chuckled, a wide grin on her face as you couldn’t but read the text out loud.

“I texted him like that.”

“Touché. Because you want to impress mister ‘hot as fuck intellectual’ there.”

You just rolled your eyes, neither confirming nor denying. Mostly because Penny was right. But he was the first to use an emoji and… yeah, cutie indeed.

Well, I never say no to dinner and I’m down for almost anything-

“I bet you are,” Penny hummed to your ear and you swung after her blindly and thought of a better phrasing.

Well, I never say no to a dinner and I’m not picky. You choose. Seven-ish sounds good?

“Spoilsport.”

“Stop reading over my shoulder!” you chuckled and bit your lip as the answer came almost immediately.

Seven is alright. I’ll think of something to treat a girl right ;)

Your stomach made a small somersault, your face instantly radiating heat at the possible innuendo. The phone vibrated again before you could fully process the image your mind painted of him actually saying it in his gentle timbre.

Just so we’re clear, what is the nature of the dinner? It can be whatever you feel comfortable with.

Your heart leaped into your throat, hammering wildly.

That was the question, wasn’t it? Since you texted him, you made one thing clear with yourself. If you were doing this, it was going to be a date. You wouldn’t be doing things by halves.

Penny next to you made a noise that sounded as something between an aww and her gagging on nothing. “He’s disgustingly considerate for a man his age planning on going out with a girl your age.”

“He’s not that much older,” you protested instantly, frowning. He wasn’t. She knew that; you had both done your research. “And I think it’s amazing.”

You caught Penny’s smile from the corner of your eye as you typed.

“Well, it is kinda sweet. And I know he’s not, I’m messing with you. It’s just-- DON’T SEND HIM THAT!”

“Why?” you questioned, looking at her quizzically and totally clicking on send on purpose at the same time.

I’d be comfortable with a date if you are.

“It’s so lame. Of course he’s comfortable with a date, he suggested it. Duh.”

The reply came way too fast and Penny chuckled behind you as your jaw went slack.

“You know what? Don’t mind me. Good job. Keep it up,” Penny patted your shoulder as you stared at the screen where Professor Steven Grant Rogers just texted you a damn heart.

It’s a date <3

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

It was a date indeed.

Steve texted you an address on Friday morning (along with an adorable good morning :) ), apologizing that he couldn’t pick you up, making sure you’d be alright getting there on your own. You found it absolutely sweet, considerate and smart. You suspected that his ‘inability’ to pick you up had something to do with the fact that you lived at the dorms and if he showed up there, it would be trending in the university chit-chat room within five minutes.

You spent a better part of the Friday afternoon researching the place and the weather forecast so you could dress accordingly and getting ready.

You were not ready for a date with Steve Rogers however; your nerves were a mess and nothing could ever prepare you for when he showed up perfectly on time in front of the restaurant---- wearing a suit no less.

How were you supposed to function when he was wearing such elegant clothing, a suit he filled up so fucking well?! And he looked just as breath-taking as always, stupidly perfect beard and slightly tousled hair you just wanted to run your fingers through and his smile was so gorgeous and--- Jesus Fucking Christ, the suit- how could you even put words together when looking at him-

“Wow, I feel so underdressed now.”

Clearly, you could speak just fine, only you lost your brain-to-mouth filter. Also, your mouth might have started watering and your heart was pounding like crazy. You would not survive tonight.

But, you also had a point. The restaurant was supposed to be a nice place, but relatively plain. And he showed up in amazingly fitting dress pants, white shirt, a tie and a suit jacket. So yes, you did feel underdressed.

“Oh no, no! You’re not,” he rushed to reassure you, eyeing your semi-leisure white dress with burgundy flowers with an attentive gaze that had you shifting your weight nervously. “I’m overdressed if anything. Sticking out like a sore thumb, I’m sorry.”

You could always just strip the suit jacket, was your first thought, but luckily for you, this time you managed to contain the words before they got out to the open.

“You’re fine,” you said instead, not knowing how else to react; needless to say you were grateful for the smile he gave you despite the double meaning.

Yes, he was fine indeed. Always. It was unfair, really.

“Thanks. You too. In fact, you look beautiful.”

Your heart stopped in your chest, your mind suddenly racing a mile per minute.

It was ridiculous. It was just a word. But for one, it was spoken so kindly and genuinely you couldn’t but think he meant it, for two, it was Professor Steve Rogers who told you that and--- beautiful.

You couldn’t remember a guy ever calling you beautiful.

Cute? Sure. Pretty? Maybe. Hot? Might have happened once or twice . But beautiful?

You might actually swoon.

And you were so lost in your head that you couldn’t but silently stare at the lethally handsome man in front of you and then it again registered in your brain that this was your fucking crush speaking to you and he was on a date with you and he had read your erotica, one that was about him no less-

Your face was set aflame in an instant and you… you couldn’t let out a word.

“It everything okay? Did I… did I say something wrong?” Steve asked hesitantly, a concerned wrinkle appearing between his brows and it reminded you of all the times you had seen him wearing such thoughtful expression in the two classes he taught instead of Professor Barnes and-

You were screwed.

Tonight was going to be a disaster.

“No, uhm, no, sorry--- maybe we should go inside or-“ you muttered, lightly gesturing towards the door and could you get any more awkward?

“Yeah, sure, sounds good.”

He let you walk in first like a real gentleman, the lightest skim of his fingers on your lower back, which caused your heartbeat to skyrocket; and only when the hostess seated you, you realized you never accepted his kind compliment.

It was too late for that now, you assumed, so you sipped at the still water which waited at each table, and repeated like a mantra to yourself that you needed to get your shit together otherwise you’d ruin your shot before the night even started.

But clearly, you succeeded at that already.

Whatever awkward aura you had around yourself, it seemed to extend now to him too – he shifted slightly in his seat (he had pulled out your chair for you before, because of course he had), his shoulders stiff. Despite that, he smiled at you over the menu.

“So… all exams worked out? Enjoying the freedom?” he asked casually.

“Oh, yes. Yeah.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” you uttered with a forced smile, your stomach twisted unpleasantly.  

For some reason, you felt like you were having a lame attempt at small talk with a professor, which you were, but it wasn’t supposed to be like that.

Not tonight. Not on a date.

What were you even doing here? What were you playing at? Professor Steve Rogers was entirely out of your league, gorgeous, funny, kind and smart and here you were, barely making conversation.

It was pathetic really. It was embarrassing for both of you.

“You up to anything fun?” he queried, the question less enthusiastic than the one before. He was already growing tired of making your uncooperative brain work at least a bit, it was obvious.

Your gulped as the memory of last night popped in your head – staying in, quiet evening, in a mood for some dirty writing--- oh bless, another reminder of why this dinner was and should be really weird.

Steve read your smutty story. The one about him.

“Nothing special,” you squealed silently, earning a plain nod. “Eh, we went out with Penny, my roommate and best friend in one person. But mostly I just stayed in and--- caught up on sleeping.”

“I know what that’s like,” Steve hummed, clearly as grateful as you were when the waiter appeared by your table to take your orders.

Silence stretched as the man left, your hand beginning to fiddle with the neatly folded napkin on the table, lump growing in your throat due to your nerves.

“What about you? Anything… fun?” you asked reluctantly, noticing a brief smile passing Steve’s lips. Pretty, sinfully pretty lips. Perfect. Untouchable for mere mortals like you.

“Oh, not much. Few exam sittings, faculty meetings – we had one now, hence the suit-“

“You came here right from school?” you blurted out, startled – and clearly surprising him with your rudeness. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Yes, I did. We have a meeting every last Friday of the month.”

“Oh my god, you must be so tired,” you sympathized with him quietly, the uneasy feeling in your stomach only growing. He came here straight from work and for this? “Why didn’t you say something? We could have postponed or something.”

Steve swiftly shook his head, his warm hand landing on yours, gently stopping your restless fingers. This time, it was butterflies in your stomach erupting with life, the sweet comforting gesture warming your heart. He wanted to be here. He came here for you. He was interested in you.

And the feeling was mutual. So why was it being so weird then?

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m glad you reached out. I’m glad that you said yes in the first place,” he admitted, features softening despite the tension in his shoulders never leaving. His brows furrowed as he slowly withdrew his hand – it must have been an automatic reaction then. “I’m not that tired and… and maybe I was little worried that if I asked for a different date, then…”

He trailed off and your lips parted in surprise, your heart swelling in your chest at what he was implying.

Did he think you’d back out? Did he think that all the potential obstacles intimidated you too much? That you’d think it wasn’t worth it? That it wouldn’t work out anyway?

Seeing as you were now, you couldn’t blame him. Despite him being the world’s most charming man, here you were, being… not at all yourself, stressing for no reason.

It seemed to you that had had chemistry, back there in his office. This date made sense. When you imagined how this could unfold, well, it went a bit differently too. There was considerably less embarrassment going around.

This was why you preferred writing to speaking. That’s why you liked daydreaming. Because reality was often less than ideal, no script, awkward silences, misunderstandings…

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your food arrived.

You both thanked the waiter politely and you hoped that at least now you’d have a good excuse for the lack of normal conversation.

“What are you sorry for?”

You sighed and nibbled on your lower lip, not missing the way his gaze instinctively flickered there, pupils dilating just a fraction – but enough for you to notice. Your heart skipped a pleased beat – but the undeniable physical attraction couldn’t be enough.

“For this,” you said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. His features twisted in disappointment and something that looked a lot like regret flashed in his eyes. “I want to be here, Steve. I really do. I don’t know what’s wrong with me-“

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you,” he was quick to oppose and you couldn’t help it as a wry chuckle escaped you.

“Well, there’s certainly nothing wrong with you. And still, there’s this…”

“…tension?”

You wished.

“Sort of? But not the fun kind, for sure.”

He grimaced, but a spark of amusement lit up his blue irises. “Awkward air around us?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed victoriously as he voiced exactly what you were thinking. Then you quickly lowered your voice, looking around. Luckily, no one stared at you. You realized you leaned closer to him over the table, your heart racing at that, but you didn’t withdraw; it was a lovely opportunity to get even a better look at his perfect face. “But I don’t know why!” You knew why. “I like you, Steve-“

“I like you too. And I know I already said that, but you look stunning.”

Your cheeks burned again, but this time, you managed to stutter out a thank you at least. Stunning, Jesus, was he for real?

“T-thank you. You look incredibly handsome too. Then again you always do—why did I say that.”

One corner of his lips quirked up.

“Why thank you, I’m glad you did. The feeling’s mutual, believe me.”

“Then why does this feel like one of the most awkward dates I’ve ever been to?!” you whisper-yelled, causing him to chuckle, the tips of his ears turning red.

His hand once again landed on yours, this time deliberately, the gesture warming you in more than one way.

“Well… I’m nervous. You might be too.” You hummed in agreement. Was that all it was? “But the way you said it, at least it seems to me that it could have been worse, right? More awkward?”

You felt the corners of your lips rise at the remark, shrugging. He had a point there. And he squeezed your hand a bit and good Lord, it should not be making your heart race so much, but he was touching you and he was being really sweet and his fingers were nice and warm and long-

“Tell me.”

You blinked in surprise, realizing you had been staring at your joined hands. You raised your gaze, finding him watching you with a subtle smile.

“Tell you what?”

“Tell me about the most awkward date you have ever been to,” he clarified, his thumb caressing your wrist.

You only hesitated for a beat before you nodded in agreement, god knew why. Perhaps you did need a reminder that this could have gone much more disastrously and it was mostly your traitorous brain telling you that you were messing everything up.

Plus, Steve deserved whatever he wanted – so far, he was the only reason this date wasn’t as disastrous as it could be.

“Okay. You ever been to a speed dating event, Steve? Because I have.”

“Oh, this is ought to be good,” he noted with another squeeze to your hand, before he released you. Shame. He sipped at his wine and dug into his pasta. “I’m all ears.”

This is ought to be good, Steve said. Well, maybe. You certainly hadn’t thought so at the time.

Explaining to Steve that as you had been under duress from no other than Penny, you both went to the event which promised you meeting ten dashing men in only an hour. You’d get five minutes with each, as anonymous as you’d wished to be, receiving a folder with nothing but a table with the first names of the men and a yes and no option and a line for your own notes about them.

You weren’t sure what to think of it – but after three epically failed Tinder attempts, you agreed to try. If nothing else, you’d gain a new experience.

And an experience had it been. You even lasted a month with one of the guys, but you didn’t tell Steve that. It wasn’t important.

André was.

André Whatever-was-his-last-name – because that was how it worked, no last names – definitely believed he was important. With the guys moving around the tables from one woman to another, spending five minutes with each, you could already hear André closing to your station from two tables over.

He was hard to tune out, courtesy of the colour of his voice, extremely unpleasant to your ears, and him never letting the woman he faced talk. Always interrupting. Always turning the conversation around so it would be about him.

Asshole.

You liked to think you weren’t quick to judge people, but André was making you cringe before you were even introduced. And then you actually were.

A minute into his monologue to you, you felt like you were being tortured.

And then the waitress managed to stumble and spill a glass of white wine – partly over your table, but mostly on the floor. At least she caught the glass and you had but a tiny spot on your dress.

“She was apologizing so profusely and I wasn’t thinking, okay. I went for the napkins few tables over to help and— I didn’t realize I put the open folder down for everyone to see,” you explained, feeling like face-palming when you remembered the night.

Steve watched you in anticipation, a small smirk and a knowing look on his face as he guessed you had already circled ‘no’ for André at the time.

Oh, you wished it were that simple. You felt your cheeks burn hot as you continued.

“André read it, of course. Obviously, he already got a hard ‘no’ from me, but… I might have written a tiny note for myself as to why,” you admitted and Steve’s eyebrow rose minutely, his curiosity piqued even more.

You took a deep breath.

“I wasn’t exactly kind to him. It was something along the lines of self-important asshole who probably compensated for something.” Steve huffed in amusement. But oh, if he only knew... you sighed and continued. “And If Draco Malfoy and Gilderoy Lockhart had a love child, this would be him.”

No sound came from your companion this time and your teeth anxiously sank into our lower lip, your pulse wavering. What was Steve thinking? Did he think you had been rude? Mean even? Nerdy? All of the above?

He stared at you for full three seconds, clearly rendered speechless by your harsh judgement.

And then he burst out laughing.

Suffocating weight fell from your shoulders and you silently joined him as you explained yourself.

“I was in my Harry Potter phase! And in my defence, I think it was actually pretty accurate...”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that, sweetheart,” Steve chuckled lightly before laughing some more, irises twinkling with amusement and something… softer.

You shuddered upon hearing the endearment spill unwittingly from his lips, upon seeing the emotion on his face.  And maybe you were a little proud of yourself for making him laugh and lose the tension in his shoulders completely.

“It was one of the longest and most awkward three minutes of my life, the silence that followed,” you huffed, massaging your forehead. “He did not appreciate the comparison.”

“I bet,” Steve cackled, taking another bite of his meal, smile playing in the corner of his lips as he swallowed and continued. “But you’ve got to give it to him, he knew his Harry Potter characters.”

“Ha! My thoughts exactly. But that’s a little bit of weak base for dating, I think, especially since I kinda already hated him.”

“Oh, you did? I didn’t catch that,” Steve joked lightly, causing you to smile despite the horrid memory.

And funnily enough, telling him and remembering it… it did make you feel better and more at ease with him.

“Ha ha ha, laugh it up, Professor. Your turn.”

“I’m sorry?” he said, clearly puzzled. It didn’t escape your notice as his voice faltered, his Adam’s apple bobbing at the addressing.

Oh, so that’ s still a thing. You couldn’t but smirk a bit at that.

“An awkward date. You have to share now, it’s only fair,” you shrugged, only for a terrible realization to dawn on you. “Please tell me there is at least one awkward date story, Steve. Tell me this isn’t really your worst date ever.”

He shook his head with a soft chuckle.

“Oh, there’s plenty. I’m just trying to think about one that won’t scare you away from me. I’d hate that.”

One corner of his lips raised, he looked you up and down, lingering on your lips for a bit before meeting your gaze, something you could only hope was fondness and wanton in his eyes. Your breath hitched, heat pooling in your abdomen at the thorough onceover despite the gentle tone of his voice.

Fuck how could he make you feel hot and soft at the same time.

Unable to stand the intensity of his stare, you lowered your gaze and gulped, your stomach making an excited slip. He did want you. You had been being silly, letting your nerves get the better of you.

Clearing your throat, you willed yourself to look up, finding him still watching closely – and perhaps, there was a hint of a red to his cheeks, the tip of his ears burning as if despite the blatant flirting, he was unsure of himself too, because he didn’t want to mess up with you either.

You found it absolutely endearing and your heart swelled. The way you got to see there was more to him than his professor side and his dashing looks… you felt incredibly lucky. The more you got to interact with him, the more it wasn’t just your sinful thoughts belonging to him – he was quickly working on stealing your heart as well.

Plucking up your courage, you were the one to reach out this time, carefully sweeping your thumb over the back of his hand, smiling.

“I’m not scared off all that easily, Steve.”

He mirrored your genuine smile, a glint of something you couldn’t read lighting up his eyes.

“That’s good to know,” he said lowly and sighed, narrowing his eyes as if he was assessing you again. “Alright, here goes…”

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You actually managed to get one more awkward date story from Steve, because frankly, his experiences were hilarious. And surprise surprise, he was a great narrator. Plus, while he talked, you could ogle him shamelessly without fear of looking strange.

But you guessed that since you were on a date, you could ogle him anyway. He didn’t seem to mind; in fact, whenever he got the opportunity, he reciprocated it. It finally did feel like a date, the air growing thicker as you gradually shifted closer and closer, the light touches prolonging, feet meeting under the table without parting as soon as they made contact.

Your belly kept warming up with each smile and laugh, with every second of the intense eye contact, with every flicker of his gaze to your lips and vice versa. Sharing a dessert was a terrible idea, because you wanted kiss the crumbs sticking on his lips away. You teased each other, you complimented each other – with Steve absolutely winning the undeclared contest – and you realized that despite sharing your most embarrassing dates with each other at the beginning, this was the absolute best you had ever been to.

And you didn’t want it to end.

The light sweater you had brought with you did nothing to shield you from the surprisingly lukewarm wind. As you wandered the streets, Steve finally heard out one of your first thoughts you had had when meeting him today – he shrugged off his suit jacket.

Which… yum. The seams of his shirt were crying for help and you could only think fo one way of helping them – taking his shirt off too. But alas, Steve didn’t continue the striptease, probably because you were on the street. Instead, he did the most wholesome thing and held out the jacket for you to slip into.

You only hesitated a moment, teeth sinking into your lower lip. How could you say no to that?

“That’s awfully cliché and really sweet at the same time,” you muttered, causing him to shrug, one corner of his lips raised in a smirk as he helped you put it on, forefinger most definitely deliberately caressing the side of your throat before withdrawing.

A shudder ran down your spine, electrifying feeling going straight to your core. The whiff of whatever cologne he was wearing enveloped you, clouding your senses. Goddammit he smelled so good.

“Maybe I just want to see you in my clothes,” he hummed, the suggestive remark knocking the breath straight out of your lungs.

Stepping to your side from behind your back, you caught a glimpse of his expression – a little bit smug, a little bit panicked as it probably registered with him just how much suggestive it was, perhaps crossing a line.

It was absolutely not crossing the line, because the thought of wearing his clothes, preferably grabbing it because you couldn’t find yours after you threw it all around the room as you frantically stripped each other was making your head spin in the best way.

“Maybe I’d really enjoy wearing your clothes after you rip off mine.”

Steve’s jaw went slack, a choked noise leaving him and you couldn’t but laugh at his dumbstruck expression. Surprise, professor, you little shit. I can keep up.

“That was… mean,” he said, clearing his throat. Your eyebrows rose, pot calling the kettle back style. “But I see how I deserved that.”

“Damn right… but that doesn’t mean it’s a lie,” you shrugged, chuckling at the exasperated look he shot you.

‘Man, she’s gonna fuck you up on a whole new level and I’ll be here for it in the front row with a bowl of popcorn,’ Barnes’ words to Steve which you weren’t meant to hear echoed in your head, making you grin.

The teasing was intense, yet you felt comfortable in it. You blamed Steve and his nature – he already felt like a guy to go lengths to make you feel at ease enough; the way he had kept insisting on you choosing whether this was a date or not only proved it. He made it easy to be yourself, making you feel like you could.

And he made it perfectly clear that he was enjoying seeing you like that, that he appreciated you as you were.

But the closer you got to the campus, the more the reality was settling in, your laughter fading, butterflies and heat replaced by anxiety. He was still a professor. If you went for it, it wouldn’t always be uncomplicated like this. The awkwardness crept in as your steps grew slower, the inevitable arriving.

He couldn’t walk you home, to walk you to the dorm, even if the desire to do so radiated from every fibre of his being. He couldn’t do that for the same reason he hadn’t picked you up.

You came to a stop, feeling like there was this invisible border to a safe, students-free part of the city, the line you couldn’t cross side by side.

“So, uhm… this is it, huh?” Steve hummed, grim. You appreciated the lame attempt at a smile though and reciprocated, turning to face him.

“Looks like it.”

Heavy silence settled over you pair. Your eyes trailed all over him, lingering on his face, noting as he did the same. He was beautiful; you didn’t care you should say that about a man. He was. The light in his eyes dimmed compared to that just a few moments ago, but it was still there, expression soft, almost as soft as his beard looked, causing your fingers to twitch in need to run them over it and pull him in for a kiss.

Your lips tingled as the idea. You had never kissed a man with a beard and you wanted to know how it felt. The fact it was Steve only sealed the deal and made the need grow exponentially.

You wanted to kiss him so bad. But here you stood, unable to move, unable to speak. You sighed.

“Would you-“ “I want to-“

“Sorry,” you and him said at the same time again, laughing it off quietly, your fingers running through your hair.

Your stomach clenched when you noticed his eyes following the movement almost wistfully.

“You go first,” he prompted you gently.

You didn’t argue – if you learned one thing tonight, it was that Steve was a gentleman and that was so rare these days that you wouldn’t want to discourage him from being that way. Even if you really wanted to know what he was about to say, as soon as possible.

“I… I just want to say thank you. For the… for the date. I had a good time, so I hope you had too, at least a little,” you offered lamely, feeling blood rushing to your cheeks.

Like a schoolgirl blushing in front of her professor. Jesus, why were you being like this again.

Steve didn’t seem to find you as awkward as you felt however, your name slipping from his lips, kind and soft.

“I had a very good time. You’re amazing.” Your lips parted at the blatant and genuine compliment. His eyes went wide. “I’m sorry, that came out so strong, I didn’t mean to put you in spot like that-“

Stronger than ‘maybe I just want to see you in my clothes?’ you asked yourself. No, you didn’t think so. It was just that the playfulness had left at least two blocks back.

This felt more serious. More intimate.

“Ditto,” you whispered, gracing him with a shy smile he instantly mirrored. “But hey, I already knew that, so…”

He chuckled, shaking his head lightly, his smile only growing. When he looked at you again, his eyes were the beautiful warm blue that made you weak in the knees.

“Would you like to do something like that again?” he queried lowly.

Yes. YES. YES PLEASE. Minus the awkwardness at the beginning and the one a moment ago, preferably.  

“Yeah. I’d like that,” you agreed simply, taking note of how his face lit up even more.

How could a man be so indescribably hot and yet adorable enough to tug at your heartstrings?

“Good. I’m glad.”

He tugged at your hand unexpectedly, pulling you to your left, his other hand steadying you by gently grasping your forearm.

Before you could question his actions, a pair of men swaying in a drunken haze passed you, having no care in the world for whom they might crash into.

“Thanks,” blurted out lowly, sparing a second to shoot their backs a dirty glare.

But Steve’s hands were still on you, distracting, as you stood face to face, chest to chest, a little too close, a little too far. Your heart sped up in your ribcage, breathing picking up in anticipation. So close…

But all Steve did was to squeeze your forearm reassuringly, lifting your joined hands to his face.

Just like the day you agreed to get coffee with him, he kissed your knuckles, only this time it was much firmer. His smile was sweet and utterly irresistible as he kept looking at your face and you felt all the worries about the future melt away once again.

He was so precious and this felt so right and--- you didn’t want him to kiss your hand.

Well, you wanted it, but you wanted more too.

You had been aching to kiss that mouth since you had first set eyes on him, on that inhumanly gorgeous and hot creature. You were on a date, you both had a great time and clearly he was giving you the opportunity to decide how far you wanted to take this, because as much as every little touch of his made to crazy, the displays of affection were positively chaste.

And you wanted to take it very very far.

Your rational brain wouldn’t let you just hop into sac with him today, but fuck, you could do with a kiss. You wanted to feel that perfectly trimmed beard of his and you wanted to taste him.

Did he?

You stepped even closer as he let go of your hand, distracting you minutely; due to the sudden proximity, it landed on his chest and Jesus fucking Christ he was firm.

Your fingers clutched at the white fabric of his shirt as you observed his face, your gaze inevitably flickering to his lips. Glancing up once more to find him still watching you intently, pupils dilated, your breath caught in your throat, heat stirring in your belly.

Rising to your tiptoes, you gripped the fabric tighter and shortly pressed your lips to his.

It was a funny feeling – lips hot, soft and slightly chapped, a stark contrast to the beard, less rough than you expected, leaving a tingly sensation behind. It was different; exciting and addicting. Before he could react and before you could think twice, you kissed him again, this time lingering for a few seconds, your eyelids falling shut.

Your heart fluttered when you felt his lips reluctantly respond just as you withdrew, his grip on your arm tightening. You ran your tongue over your lips to savour the feeling, mouth instinctively curling up in a smile, gaze meeting his.

Little wrinkles appeared around his eyes as he smiled as well.

“You okay?”

You nodded, almost too eagerly, lowering back to your whole feet. Involuntarily, your gaze flickered to his mouth again, wanting more.

“Uhm… beard,” you piped up unhelpfully, pressing your lips together as soon as the admission left them.

Steve’s smile widened as he once again grasped your hand, leading it to cup his face – not before he dropped a kiss to your palm.

You almost let out a very embarrassing whine at the curious sensation, your mind, still enveloped in Steve’s warmth and cologne, wondering how the beard would feel elsewhere.

Your fingers unwittingly caressed the hair, thumb brushing his lips, unable to resist.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, lips parting, hot breath fanning over your skin as watched you.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed out and that was it – you pressed against the soft swollen flesh at the pet name, causing a low grumble echo in Steve’s chest.

And then his hand slid to your waist, the other sinking into your hair, and he pulled up into a kiss that had nothing to do with how patient he had been before. He was still a gentleman, but it was a close call – he angled your head to his liking, his lips dancing with yours in a sensual dance with just a tease of tongue licking at the seam of your lips, causing you to sigh in bliss, granting him access.

He hummed appreciatively, the sound shaking your bones as he held you flat against him, the heat of his body seeping into yours – as if every nerve ending in your body wasn’t on fire already. He breathed you in, consumed you entirely – there were no other words for it.

There weren’t many words you could think of to begin with, too busy feeling his broad shoulders under your palm, fingers roaming to find the soft hair at his nape, revelling at the taste of him, just a smidge of tongue and you wanted more, your insides twisting in need--- and oh, your back was pressed against a wall now.

You let out a small startled sound which Steve instantly swallowed – but it was a good wake up call for you both. The motions of his lips slowed, softened, a gentle caress more than anything, his thumb stroking your cheek.

Breathless, you chased after his mouth when he retreated, earning one small peck and then another. He rested his forehead against yours, nose briefly skimming yours, causing you to smile and meet his gaze.

“Sorry,” he muttered and you genuinely wanted to slap his arm or something for apologizing for that. Because you knew what you’d be thinking about for the next few hours, days even, hell, probably weeks. “For springing out like that. I just… wanted to do that for a long time.”

The admission had your heart skip a beat and you couldn’t but lean in to kiss the corner of his mouth – and nope, you weren’t over how it felt, his beard against your lips. You wouldn’t be over it for a long time, you suspected.

“Me too.”

“So… we’re doing this again, right?“

You smirked up at him as he reluctantly released you. “You springing out like that or-“

“Don’t test me, babygirl,” he nearly growled, causing your eyes going wide as saucers, feeling as if you were sucker punched to your gut – and liked it.

Babygirl. Jesus, he was going to be the death of you.

“You can spring out like that again too,” you chimed, your voice sounding a bit strangled, because holy shit he just called you that. His gaze flickered all over your face, a shade darker than before. Your underwear was thoroughly ruined with that single look… and the earlier make-out session. “But if we’re talking second dates, I’d definitely do that too.”

He huffed and shook his head, a chuckle escaping him.

“You’re a minx…. I think I like it.”

You grinned at him and then sighed regretfully, reaching to slip off the jacket, which made him frown.

“You could give it back later.”

“Don’t tempt me… don’t want to rob you of it--- and there would be questions,” you explained, knowing that even walking around the campus like what would raise rumours of god knew what.

Like, maybe someone would think some gentleman like Professor Steve Rogers himself lent it to you or something, gee, where would that come from...

Steve nodded in understanding, accepting the jacket and shrugging it on.

“Plus, I’m thoroughly warmed up,” you added cheekily, causing him to chuckle incredulously again. With a sigh, he leaned in, cradling your jaw in one large hand and pressed a sweet lingering kiss to your forehead.

You could melt on spot.

“Goodnight, sweetheart. Let me know when you get home safe?” he asked of you gently, tugging at your heartstrings some more, because of course he did.

“I will. You too?”

His smile was soft and sweet as he promised to do so, clearly touched by your care. Well, that made two of you.

“Goodnight, Steve. Thank you for tonight.”

“Thank you.”

You breathed in deeply, dropping a last kiss to his cheek and quickly spun on your heels to walk away – because if you wavered a second longer, you might have not left at all.

Sure, you looked back at him several times, finding him standing where you had left him, his eyes following your receding figure. But you kept walking.

And once you couldn’t see him anymore, you broke into a fit of giggles, hiding your face in your palms to muffle your delighted squeal.

You were just coming back to the dorms from the date with Steve Rogers.

And despite the hiccups, it was the best damn thing in the world, leaving you giddy and already craving another date and more. Your cheeks hurt from smiling by the time you made it to the dorms, your heart pounding excitedly the whole time.

As promised, you let Steve know you made there safe, earning another text with a heart. It only made you squeal again, fingers frantic as you replied – and with a kiss for goodnight so he knew you truly enjoyed your night, ending included.

What he didn’t know was that maybe, just maybe, the next evening you wrote a tiny story in which you elaborated at what could happen if he ever pushed you against a wall and kissed your breathless ever again.

And hopefully, he would.

Soon.

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

Attached masterlist

⊱-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦ ✉ ◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-◦-⊰

...how it happened? I was asked about the first date, very kindly and in a no pressure manner.

S: Hey, just out of curiosity, you don’t really have to answer… how do you imagine their first date went?

me: Hm, let me think, I guess, mm, it would be like this--- oh shit. Oh no. It’s gonna be a fic again, isn’t it? Maybe I could finally write a headcanon or a drabble--- sigh.

As if I could ever.

Thank you for reading :-*

[fnf-amateur-writing]

Hello! Can I request a scenario where l Updike with an s/o who got kidnapped and now he has to go save them- if u feel uncomfortable with that you can just do general relationship headcanons for him!

Hey there, Anon. I'm cool with your prompt, no worries!

TW: Kidnapping and violence.

Updike finding out S/O was kidnapped

Everything was rather dull at work. Sure, dealing with anomalies can be cool, but it wears on Updike after a while. Everyday was starting to become nothing more than paperwork, keeping tabs on the freely roaming safer anomalies, and trying and failing to kill Whitmore. Fortunately, his lunch break finally started after a long and boring morning.

Once he readjusted his tie and tucked away his trusty gun in his pocket, he went on a near daily walk to a local cafe. To be honest, it wasn't all that boring, since he now got to be with you during his lunch breaks. About a month ago, you two found out that you took your breaks at the same time. The cafe was also conveniently in between your workplaces, allowing you to walk an equal distance.

Without any incidents or that pestering metal head, Updike made his last turn, with the cafe now being just two buildings down. Strangely, the police were also two buildings down, talking to an employee that Updike recognised in front of the prematurely closed cafe. Avoiding involvement, Updike quickly turned around, waiting until he out of sight of them before checking his phone. You were always there first, so you probably texted him a heads up, but his phone showed no new messages.

It was pretty annoying, but no big deal. He'll just go somewhere else, and maybe you'll be there too if he's lucky.

~~~

The phone next to him rings, whilst Updike sat alone in his office, showing the front desk receptionist's name. That was rather unusual; that number almost never calls him directly, so it was probably important enough to be an exception. "Updike speaking," he spoke in his monotone voice, which was in a tone that easily showed how he says that a dozen times a day.

"Mr. Updike, the police are requesting your presence outside."

Okay, now that was very unusual. Not that the police are here, they show up all the time whenever a case involves an anomaly. But for them to make him go outside, when they usually go up to see him or a collegue, was odd. And he had a clean record too, so it's not like they were going to arrest him.

"I'll be right there," he said. He felt somewhat stressed from the sudden request, so he went a faster pace to the lift--to which he almost pressed the wrong button. He and a cop quickly made eye contact the moment the lift opened, and he followed the man as he beckoned him outside.

"Now, I know you're busy, so I'll get right to the point," the officer says, pulling a phone from his pocket. "Do you recognise this phone and the owner of it?" Updike wish he could say no, but he couldn't; it was clearly your phone, except it now has a large crack on the screen. "Yes, it belongs to my partner. Their name is (Y/N) (L/N)." As clear as he made those sentences, his throat was sore from the dread.

"Sir, are you aware that they've been kidnapped."

... No.

~~~

Looking back at it, he wasn't sure how he kept calm the whole time as the police explained what had happened. Some man had taken you right in front of the cafe. It happened so quickly, that the witnesses didn't seem to notice anything wrong until it was too late. They contacted him when told by employees that he always sat at the same table as you.

As he rushed home, he didn't quite know what he felt. It was a mixture of sadness, anger, stress, and whatever the hell else that couldn't be named that made his hair grey. But he wasn't going home just to wait in misery until the police did something; he was going to look for some clues, as recommended by the authorities. He wasn't aware of any troubles you may have wih your family and friends, but he was informed that most kidnappings are done by people the victim knows, so he had to snoop around your stuff to see if he could find anything to report.

However, he almost slammed himself into his own front door when something else caught his attention: a plain white envelope taped to the door. There was no markings or writing on the outside, Updike noted as he took it for inspection, but he could tell it had a letter in it. Surely, it couldn't be a coincidence this showed up the same day you were taken.

As he went inside, closing the door behind him, he didn't take another step away from the door before tearing the letter open. Within the envelope was a typed letter, which had a clear message despite never mentioning you or Updike by name. Also made clear was that this was nobody you knew, nor was it an anomaly trying to spite him, but rather a particularly greedy criminal who took notice of who you were with.

The letter demanded an absurd amount of cash to be hand delivered, an amount that clearly overestimated even his own wealth. And if he brought anyone with him or brought a weapon, then you would be shot on the spot. Finally, he had until midnight to do so, too, adding onto the stress.

The stress started to become a bit much as his hair grew darker. He had no way of knowing whether the bastard was bluffing, but it wasn't worth trying to find out. But still, there didn't seem to be a good way out anyways. It felt like he was about to snap, feeling some sparks from his head and... a spark of an idea.

He went up a flight of stairs to a closet within the hallway. There wasn't anything remarkable about it's contents, but he took interest on one side, where some suitcases of his were stored. Only one of these was useful right now: a sleek metal suitcase he can't remember even using, but he remembered it being there. After grabbing the case, he ran back downstairs while neglecting to close the closet door.

Now, he wasn't going to place any money in it. No, nothing would be in it. But he had an idea, because maybe the guy didn't quite know who they decided to mess with.

~~~

Updike parked his car on the side of the road, getting out in the abandoned yet familiar area. It was a small part of the outskirts of the city that eventually lost it's population and was left to rot, which amazed him that it hasn't been torn down yet. The only people who regularly come here are the homeless and obnoxious teenagers with cameras who pretend that one of the buildings are haunted for internet clout. However, he does remember coming here too a long time ago to hunt down Whitmore a couple times.

The meeting place was a short walk away, having used to be a local library. The evening sky was getting darker by the minute, and the sun was near set behind Updike as he looked into the old library. As dark as it was, a light was barely visible from the entrance, partially blocked by empty bookshelves. With the case in hand, he walked through the shattered glass double doors and in between two of the shelves.

"I'm here."

The light across the library shifted and footsteps approached. The man looked as dodgy as he expected, except with a bit of a 1950's greaser look to him, and the gun the man held never pointed to anything but Updike. He placed the lantern onto the shelve and approached, saying "hand it over." Definitely not a negotiating type.

Time passed too slow, yet also too fast. Though he normally used his head, Updike had to channel what was within him elsewhere or else the man would shoot him seeing the thunder from his head. Hard, sure, but dong it for you was a pretty good motivator.

In three, two...

As soon as both hands were on the case's handle, Updike managed to give a hard zap through his hand. The case's material made it guaranteed it would shock him, and shock him very badly. He shouted at the sensation comparable to that of a taser, unable to pull the trigger before collapsing. Updike wasn't sure if he was conscious, but it didn't matter since he was already slamming the case into his face. Giving a man a free nose bleed such as this one was usually seen as too barbaric for Updike's taste, but damn it was satisfying.

He took the man's gun and briefly searched his pockets for anything else he might use as a weapon. He pocketed the lighter for the box of cigarettes he carried, since he might wake up and pull a fast one by burning the place down. And then there was a key, and not a usual key one would think of. In fact, Updike knew from the shape that it was meant to unlock a pair of handcuffs. It may be best if he took that as well.

"(Y/N)!" he called out, "are you there?" He made his way to the back, peeking into some rooms as he passed. He heard some sounds coming from nearby, causing him to peek through the old bathroom door. There you were, gagged with a cloth and both hands cuffed to a pipe beneath a sink. You were trying to say something, so he quickly worked the cloth off your mouth and let it fall under your chin. Upon closer inspection he now saw how disheveled you looked and that one of your eyes was black and swollen.

"G-GABRIEL!" you finally managed to scream before coughing from finally having your mouth to breathe through. "I thought you- I thought..." He hushed you before using the key he found on your cuffs, allowing you give him a much needed embrace. "Shhh, it's okay," he said as you cried, "I've dealt with him."

"Now," he picks you off the ground and carries you away from the dreaded building, "let's go. I have an interesting story for the cops."

Now for a surprise bonus ;)

Aftermath headcanons:

Unsurprisingly, you both took off work for a while.

Regardless of how well you can handle trauma, Updike WILL take you to a therapist. He's already got one booked, so you don't have a choice really.

For the first time in the relationship, Updike has been the one to initiate cuddles. He's also just as paranoid as you are, and has become somewhat clingy as a result.

When it was nearing the day you two would return to work, you discussed plans on preventing another incident. Though it may seem a bit far, you agreed on wearing a small tracking device clipped to your clothes until the fear wore off.

The forced therapy sessions did come with benefits for the future. When you eventually had to testify against your kidnapper in court, you felt more confident in your words and managed to tell them everything without a breakdown.

The man didn't stand a chance and earned himself several years in prison.

Finally, once you felt everything was behind you, you walked together to the cafe again. It was a nice cafe and it would be a shame if they stopped visiting.

Some of the regulars and employees recognised you two, and welcomed you back. And as you two sat in your usual spots with drinks on the house, you could finally say it was a pretty nice day with nothing to worry about.

[fallin-4-ya]

spilled amortentia

spilled amortentia 

cedric diggory x reader

summary: y/n and cedric diggroy hated each other, but when things finally start to turn around for the two some secrets about some spilt amortentia will be confessed.

warnings: bickering, enemies to lovers & that's all! (gif is not mine, credit to owner!)

requested? yes/no

words: 2.1k

Y/n didn’t like Cedric Diggory. Borderline hate, if she was being honest with herself. His stupid smile, his stupid eyes, his stupid laugh, his stupid face. He was just so nice, so genuine, so handsome. And y/n wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.

Cedric didn’t like y/n y/l/n. Nearly hated her if he was being honest with himself. Her stupid hair, her stupid lips, her stupid voice, her stupid face. She was just so beautiful, so intelligent, so funny. And Cedric wanted absolutely nothing to do with her.

Their not so friendly hatred, competition, began third year. Nobody really knows why it began or how it started, but just that it was best you steered clear of the two when they were in the same room as each other. Something to do with potions class and a spilt amortentia, and that’s about all anyone could remember.

The charade went on for nearly three years before anyone had anything to say about it. It wasn’t until sixth year when y/n’s friend Hannah turned to her in the common room, daring to question her.

“Why do you hate Cedric so much?”

“Hannah, I don’t hate Cedric,” y/n placed a hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “That would imply that I cared.”

She smiled sarcastically at Hannah, turning out of the common room and into the corridors. Y/n huffed and rolled her eyes. Yes, she might have hated Cedric, but she was right about one thing. And that, was not caring about him.  y/n went on with her day, dreading the afternoon that was to come. She had double potions with Cedric.

y/n had been Cedric’s potions partner since third year. Of course, she had no idea why, as their last names so far apart and they clearly didn’t get along. Perhaps Snape had it out for her ever since she gifted him a bottle of shampoo once. But, that wasn’t the point. The point was is that she would have to spend a whole double period of potions sat beside Cedric with his horrendous, shiny hair and those horrible, rosy cheeks of his.

She gagged just thinking about it. However, the funny thing was that they had been quite the pair their first two years at Hogwarts. They could always be seen together between classes, studying in the library and even sat next to each other voluntarily. Things changed though, the following year. Cedric and y/n sat beside each other in potions, their task for the day was to brew a beginner’s batch of amortentia. Seemed simple enough. Challenging, but straight forward.

It all happened so quickly. They had just finished brewing their potion and Cedric was the first one to learn across the desk and sniff the potion. His face when completely white, looking at y/n with bulging grey eyes. She laughed, “What is it, Ced?”

“Nothing,” He answered back quickly. “Why don’t you have a go?”

Cedric pushed the cauldron towards y/n and before anybody could see or have time to stop it, the entirety of the pot tipped over and spilt all over her. Her breathing stopped and her eyes flickered up to Cedric Diggory with glaring eyes. She hardly had any time to realize what her potion smelt like because she stormed out of the room so fast and so furiously, that Cedric had no time to respond. 

And it wasn’t until she was half way through the corridor when she cursed herself, because of bloody course she had to stink of Cedric Diggory. The boy who she smelt in her amortentia.

That wasn’t even the worst part, because their potion was so strong for the next week she had boys and girls alike following her around the school like puppies. Chasing after her because she stunk of their desired scent. At that point she looked far beyond loving the boy she had smelt in the love potion. She vowed that day to hate Cedric Diggory forever, and word caught onto Cedric pretty quickly because he didn’t even look her way after that.

Their new form of communication strayed farther from the wonderful conversations they once held, to quick insults thrown at each other. When eye contact was made, which was rare, eyes would either roll or simply look the other direction.

y/n shook her head, trotting off to the dungeons to where her two hours of torture would begin. She exhaled sharply, taking her seat next to the brown-haired boy. Cedric shifted in his chair, feeling the presence of y/n.

“How are you today, y/n?” Cedric asked, a tone of annoyance in his voice.

“I didn’t even know you could talk,” scoffed y/n.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

The girl laughed, “Exactly what I said it meant. Not like you ask me how I am on a daily basis, let alone speak more than two words to me unless you have to.”

“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine.” Cedric said back, a smirk plastered onto his face.

“Oh, you got me on a good day, wee one.” She smiled brightly from ear to ear, then turning back to face professor Snape at the front board. She felt a strange sensation in her stomach, a nervous excitement. Before she identified the feeling, the lecture began and all attention had shifted from the pit in her stomach to the black cauldron inferno of her.

She couldn’t recall the last time she had a conversation that lasted longer than four seconds with Cedric.  y/n had forgotten how soothing his voice was and his dry sense of humor had always brought a smile to her face. Yet rather than harboring these thoughts, she shook whatever she was feeling off, immediately remembering why she hated the boy. Though, however hard she tried, the next week those soft sorts of feelings made their way to the surface more often than not. And it seemed as if Cedric felt the same way.

Rather than their usual cold greetings, they acknowledged each other with nods, then the following week, a casual smile, the next a wave. The students at Hogwarts felt the world shift, because were Cedric Diggory and y/n y/l/n actually getting along? Nobody could believe that the two could co-exist in the same room without ripping the other’s head off. It became even more baffling when he approached her on more than one occasion outside of class.

It was a rainy day and y/n sat in the library working on a charms essay. She flipped mindlessly through the books, searching for something about a confundus charm; however, her searching was interrupted by a loud stack of books hitting her table.

“Oi!” She gasped, startled by the noise. The source of it being no other than Cedric Diggory himself.

“Good afternoon to you, too.” Cedric grinned.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to talk to strangers.” y/n remarked back, mindlessly reading through the pages of her charms text book.

“Listen, I need some help with the potions essay.” Cedric asked. She cocked her head at him, he looked rather nervous to ask for something as simple as help with a potions essay.

“Sure,” y/n shook her head. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Cedric thanked her and exited the library as swiftly as he came in. She then headed back to the common room herself, joining Hannah, who was sat by the fireplace.

“So,” Hannah started cautiously. “What did Cedric want?”

“Nothing really,” y/n sighed. “Just asked me for some help in potions that’s all.”

She shrugged and went back to writing. Hannah face palmed, looking at her friend with a disappointed expression, “You honestly believe Cedric Diggory wanted your help in potions. He nearly does all the assignments for you in class and has top marks in all his subjects.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” y/n looked up from her parchment.

“Wow, you are so bloody thick.” Hannah replied, shaking her head.

Anya, a girl in the year right below the two, laughed. She quickly brought her hand up to her mouth and went back to focusing on the book she was reading. y/n sharply looked at hear, “What are you on about, Anya?”

Anya plopped her book on her lap and laughed mockingly, “Seriously?” She beckoned the two girls who sat in front of her. y/n sent her a look, a mixture of confusion and anger etched across her face. Hannah sat in silence sharing looks with both girls.

“Well, y/n, if you really need me to spell it out for you,” Anya sighed. “You love him.”

y/n let out a laugh so loud the entire common room turned to face the group of girls. This had been the funniest thing she had heard in a long time. Tears formed in her eyes, however her laughing ceased when she looked back up at both Hannah and Anya, who held straight faces. “Why aren’t you two laughing?”

“Because-“ Hannah hesitated. “Because you are. It’s practically plain as day. You talk about him nonstop, really. Not to mention the way you look at that boy, its plain to see for anyone. You can convince yourself you still hate him, but we all know that’s a load of hippogriffs”

The two girls looked back at y/n, her lips pressed tightly together. Her thoughts danced rapidly in her mind. Visions of Cedric Diggory swarmed her and her pit in her stomach was replaced with butterflies. Did she actually like him? Was the hatred she gave him just a coverup for how she truly felt? Was she really that scared? There was no doubt that she held a deep resentment for the boy, although now a days she may even consider him an acquaintance, but love?

His stupid eyes, his stupid smile, his stupid laugh, his stupid face– oh. 

She felt heat climb up to her face, turning red in an instant. y/n shook the thought, the possibility, of her loving a boy she swore to hate. She rolled up the parchment she was working on and stormed from the common room.

Trying to clear her head, y/n paced around the castle. She found herself sitting in an empty corridor, watching the sun setting from the window. A presence appeared.

“Mind if I join you?” the voice called. y/n’s head snapped up, Cedric. She nodded, motioning the space on the bench besides her.

“It’s beautiful,” Cedric said, watching the colors of the sky melt into one another.

“I suppose it is,” y/n replied, her lips tugging into a faint smile. “Reminds me of when we first came to Hogwarts, how magical everything was.”

“The good old days,” Cedric smirked. He paused, taking a deep breath. His grey eyes flickered up at her, a warms encased in his gaze. “Y/n, there’s something I have to tell you.”

He looked at her with shy eyes. y/n felt it all come up, her emotions and her thoughts, awaiting to come out. But she couldn’t let them. She stood up instantly, taking Cedric by surprise.

“No!” she shoted. “No, you can’t do this! I vowed to hate you for the rest of my life. And that's exactly what I’m going to do!”

“Are you serious?” Cedric deadpanned.

y/n looked him straight into his eyes, “Of course, I’m serious. You spilt a whole cauldron of amortentia on me.”

“We were thirteen.” He said back to her, almost sounding confused.

She huffed at his answer crossing her arms, “Well, Cedric, maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if you weren’t the dumb boy I smelt.”

The words fell off her tongue quicker than she could think about them. y/n gasped, throwing her hand over her mouth. Cedric stood very still, staring blankly at her. They both waited for the other to say something further, but neither of them could find the words. Cedric was the first to break the silence.

“Wait, you­—you smelt me in your amortentia?” he asked slowly. y/n shook her head, looking towards the ground. “Y/n, that day in class, why I spilt the potion, I didn’t mean it. I was just so in shock because you were the girl I smelt in mine. I was so caught up in the moment. I wish I told you sooner.”

y/n’s head shot up, locking eyes with him. Cedric smiled sheepishly, a blush crawling up his neck and onto his cheeks. “Cinnamon, linen and citrus. That’s what you smell like.”

“I don’t know what to say, Cedric,” y/n smiled. “You just smelt like that horrible cologne you used to wear third year.”

Cedric laughed heartily, letting out a hey!

“Kidding,” she giggled. “Kidding. Fresh parchment, apple pie and autumn. Quite lovely really.”

Cedric took her hand, wrapping it in his. He pressed his lips gently against her knuckles, and for a moment it felt as if they were thirteen again running around the corridors, drinking butterbeers and being kids again. Where they didn’t know hatred for one another.

y/n took a deep breath, flickering her eyes up to meet his. She looked down at his lips and he leaned it, pulling her into him. His hands glided up to rest around her face, where he dived into her. It was like they had belonged there for eternity and they had been too blind to see each other in all of the perfect beauty they bestowed. All because of a nervous boy and some spilt amortentia.

(‘I still can’t believe you spilt the entire cauldron on me’ ‘Oh, shut it.)

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

and i might never be the one who brings you flowers but i can be the one tonight (perfect: one direction)

For cheryl x gn!reader (riverdale)

Also I’m huge fan of your writing :)

hey! thank you so much for requesting!! i really hope you like it!! trigger warning: toxic relationship and low self esteem so please don't read if this will upset you.

lyrics: and i might never be the one who brings you flowers but i can be the one tonight (perfect: one direction)

The sun sets on another night, and yet again you find Cheryl at your door, her hair and makeup as perfect as it always is, but her eyes heavy as she clearly tries her best to forget whatever is going on in her life.

You’re her escape, her distraction, something she can do when she needs to forget who she is and what she’s done. She’s no-one when she’s with you. People who live in the flats across from you may glance out their window and all they’ll see is two people making out.

But tonight something is different, she seems on edge, she glances behind her before she walks through the front door, and you close it before staring at her puzzled.

She drops her coat and bag on your sofa and kicks her shoes off before automatically going into the kitchen and pouring herself a glass of whatever alcohol you have left thanks to the many nights you’ve spent together.

“Do you want anything.” She calls, already slightly slurring and you have a feeling this isn’t the first drink of the night. Your heart sinks when the realisation that not only are you her afterthought, the person that she goes to when everybody else turns away, but now she has to drink before she’s turns up.

There’s nothing simple about Cheryl Blossom, you know that more than anybody. But this is just plain chaos, it’s filled with nights where the only thing you want is each other, and days where you’re the last thing she thinks about. It’s confusing and horrible and yet when you finally feel wanted by her, you forget all of the heartbreak and the missed calls and read but not replied to texts.

It was something you thought you wanted, when this first started. You remember, your hands in her hair, hers on your waist as the two of you fell through your front door and in between the kisses she’d whispered “i might never be the one who brings you flowers but i can be the one tonight”. It was exiting, new, something that made you feel alive, now though it just feels like a weight you drag around with you. You love and loathe her at the same time, because you want the flowers, and the phone calls and the conversations and you just want her to stay.

“No, I’m okay.” You reply, your tone forced as you watch her move around your flat. She’s on autopilot, she drinks and sits in front of your tv while picking at her fingers and you can already predict what’s next. When you sit down she’ll place her hand on your thigh and the next day you’ll wake up to an empty bed and all traces of her gone, she even washes the glass she's used.

But she doesn’t get that far, for the first time ever you say no. The thought of her only wanting you because there’s no one else makes you feel sick, it makes you feel like you aren’t worth anything unless there’s no other option and you know she knows that. Her kisses are forced and they feel icy against your skin, so you pull away despite your heart desperately trying to cling on to her.

This time you tell her leave, and it’s weird being the other person. Normally you ask her to stay and she’s already out of the door before you’ve finished the sentence, but this time it’s her begging to stay and for the first time in a long time you actually feel wanted.

It’s just a shame that feeling doesn’t last, and by the next night, her hand sits on your thigh and you let it.

song lyric prompts (ends tomorrow so get your requests in quick!)

riverdale masterlist

support my writing! if you'd like!

[meltingheartsandcores]

I’m tired, I should be studying, instead I wrote this little ficlet that should probably be the prologue to an actual fic that I might get around to writing (fingers crossed).

We have Immortals, modern sects, and porn. Not entirely sure how else to explain it except none of those are explicit, lol.

Hope you enjoy the product of my mildly sleep deprieved brain!

Being invited to have tea with Zewu-Jun was a high honor, despite the immortal seemingly trying to downplay it as much as he possibly could. However, Nie Mingjue isn’t entirely sure what he’s done to earn the honor. It’s been a long time since either Twin Jade was the Sect Leader, Nie Mingjue has spoken with the current Sect Leader Lan Tengfei infrequently over the years when their sect business intermingled or there was a conference, but he wasn’t particularly close to the Lan Sect. And the Twin Jades enjoy their privacy. Enough so that there’s not a single photograph of either of them out there.

So it was very startingly to get the invitation.

Zewu-Jun treating him like an equal and friend is equally startling.

Somehow, not the most startling thing to happen on the trip. No, that would be the portrait of Wei Wuxian. Nie Huaisang’s husband. He thinks. Nie Mingjue isn’t actually sure if they’re married or just act like it. Although, knowing them, that’s how they want everyone to think.

Still, the clearly very old portrait of Wei Wuxian was a little disturbing. Especially with the name below being Wei Wuxian’s, correct characters and all. Even more so after Zewu-Jun noticed him staring at it and decides to give him some utterly terrible information.

“My brother’s husband, from his first life.” Oh. It was that Wei Wuxian. Yiling Lazou Wei Wuxian.

How is this getting worse?

“Oh?” Because screaming was undignified and not something to be done in front of immortals. Later. In his car. And then he’s calling Nie Huaisang to yell at him because of course his brother just had to shake up with the immortals husband. Maybe. Maybe it’s just a massive coincidence. (Nie Mingjue’s luck is never good enough for coincidences.)

“Yes, after the resurrection his core was never strong enough to cultivate immortality. When Wangji realized it, he tried to stop his own cultivation, but it was too late. Wuxian lasted nearly two hundred years, and not a day goes by that Wangji doesn’t miss him.” Oh, Zewu-Jun was sad. Nothing Nie Mingjue can say will make him not sad. In fact, he’s pretty sure anything close to the truth of what Wei Wuxian is doing now will just upset him. “The juniors find it, romantic, that he’s decided to wait for Wuxian to be reincarnated.”

Well. It does sound romantic.

But Zewu-Jun’s face, he’s irritated and upset, so clearly he doesn’t agree with the juniors. It sounds romantic, but the reality, “He must be very lonely.” Nie Mingjue guesses.

Zewu-Jun nods, “We have each other, but we were the only ones from our generation to cultivate immortality. There are many people we miss, and as time seperates us further from the present, it’s harder to connect with the new disciples.” Zewu-Jun admits. Nie Mingjue nods, he’s never considered that. How isolating it must be to have lived so long. The Nie clan, doesn’t really get immortals. Honestly, they’re lucky if they hit a hundred. Most top out at eighty due to their cultivation style.

“How would he know, that he’s been reincarnated? I mean, I think Huaisang’s said some things about faces getting reused due to limited genetics and the growing population.” Actually Wei Wuxian said that. Something to that effect at least. Nie Huaisang was better with people and manipulating situations. He does really well running the business side of the Nie Sect. Even if he refuses to accept any credit.

Zewu-Jun smiles a little sadly, “Well, I suppose we’ll know when we see him. Pictures work well enough, as we’re learning. We’ve found a few people who we knew in our first lives reincarnated.”

Nie Mingjue nods, he should tell Zewu-Jun. He really should. Maybe it’s just a look alike. Unlikely. Nie Mingjue’s never that lucky. Nie Mingjue’s started to pull his phone out of his pocket before remembering his manners and asking while holding it in front of himself, “Uh, do you mind if I?” Zewu-Jun furrows his brow but gestures for him to continue. Nie Mingjue nods and opens his phone, scrolling through the pictures Nie Huaisang had sent him. Not for the first time, he really wished Nie Huaisang wouldn’t send so many half-naked or fully-naked pictures of Wei Wuxian to him. Thankfully, it was not all Nie Huaisang sent to him, so he did come across a picture of a fully dressed Wei Wuxian. Nie Huaisang was also there, but they weren’t doing anything. Nie Huaisang had snapped it while they were out walking and Nie Mingjue had wanted to know where the fuck Nie Huaisang had gone at one am. “Just, uh, he seemed familiar.” Nie Mingjue explains, turning the phone around to show Zewu-Jun.

Zewu-Jun blinks then reaches out, hesitating a moment before taking Nie Mingjue’s phone. “That. Is definitely Wei Wuxian.” Zewu-Jun states, and then he starts touching the screen, which makes Nie Mingjue very nervous and uncomfortable. Because Nie Huaisang sends him very questionable pictures. Nie Mingjue is happy his brother is comfortable with his body, he just wishes he wouldn’t text him explicit pictures of his maybe-boyfriend that sometimes also have him naked in them. Nie Huaisang has always like pushing Nie Mingjue’s boundaries, and honestly, Nie Mingjue would rather he be pushing this one than certain other ones. Still. It makes him nervous when Zewu-Jun taps his phone and his eyes blow wide.

Yeah. That’s not good.

Zewu-Jun blinks and regains his composure, handing the phone back, “May I ask how you know him?”

“...How honest do you want me to be?” Nie Mingjue asks, shutting off his phone and pocketing it without looking at whatever Zewu-Jun saw. He’d like to be able to keep looking Zewu-Jun in the eye for this conversation.

Zewu-Jun raises an eyebrow, almost admonishingly, “As honest as possible. You don’t seem to type to beat around the bush.”

He wasn’t. He just really didn’t want to tell Zewu-Jun what Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian get up to.

“He works with my brother.” Nie Mingjue states vaguely, earning another raised eyebrow from Zewu-Jun.

“Is he a cultivator?”

“Used to be. He had a big falling out with the Jiang a few years back and kind of stopped.” Nie Mingjue shrugs, “He doesn’t talk about it.” All he knew about it was rumour. And the Lans don’t do rumours.

“Ah. So what work does he do with Huaisang?”

...Did he tell Zewu-Jun his brothers name? Nie Huaisang is almost as unknown to the world as the Twin Jades. Purposefully so. The Nie have always been rather private with their members, but when Nie Huaisang was old enough to have an opinion on a public presence and vehemently deny having one, nothing about him was released to the public. Not even other cultivation sects as Nie Huaisang wasn’t a practicing cultivator. He trained. As he was supposed to. But he didn’t do any night hunts. He had no connection to Nie Mingjue on the business end of the Sect either.

So, what?

“How do you know his name?” Nie Mingjue asks, making Zewu-Jun blink in plain confusion. “Huaisang’s name isn’t known to anyone outside the Nie sect. Not in connection to me.” Nie Mingjue states, now a little angry. Did someone tell Zewu-Jun? Who? How? Why would he even care about Huaisang?

“He’s in your phone.” Zewu-Jun states simply.

And that’d be a fine answer.

If Nie Huaisang was ‘Huaisang’ in his phone.

But he wasn’t.

He was Reuben. Courtesy of Wei Wuxian. (Wei Wuxian was ‘Stitch’, no Nie Mingjue didn’t understand the names and he didn’t really want to. He’s mostly worried it’s a weird sex thing and he prefers to be as ignorant as possible in that aspect.)

“I thought Lan’s don’t lie.” Although, Zewu-Jun wasn’t, technically, lying.

But he doesn’t deny it. “Could we sit?” Zewu-Jun suggests, gesturing to the table that had been set up for them. Nie Mingjue nods and sits opposite to Zewu-Jun, pouring them some tea. “I apologize for the deception, however I’ve never actually done this before.” He better not be suggesting what Nie Mingjue thinks he’s suggesting. “In the recent past, when we’ve discovered our reincarnated friends, we’ve more or less left them alone.” Oh. Good. He’s not being propositioned.

Wait.

What?

Nie Mingjue blinks, now thoroughly caught off guard, “Um. What.”

Zewu-Jun smiles gently, understandingly, “Due to certain aspects of your previous life, I felt the need to check in on you, make sure you were doing well. I, well, I assumed your family was the same. Hence, why I know Huaisang’s name despite you keeping him rather off the grid.”

“He’s not off the grid. He just has no public connection to me.” Nie Huaisang was almost constantly online. Especially with his ‘job’.

“Ah. So, what work does he and Wei Wuxian do?” Zewu-Jun asks before taking a drink of his tea.

Nie Mingjue considers what he knows about the Lan, and then realizes he really doesn’t want to have this conversation. Luckily for him (or unluckily most of the time), he can just show Zewu-Jun on his phone. “Um, you might want to put that down.” Nie Mingjue suggests, pulling out his phone and turning it on, quickly going to the app Nie Huaisang downloaded on his phone that he never goes on, and opens it up to Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian’s account. Sliding it across the table as Zewu-Jun dubiously puts down his teacup.

Zewu-Jun blinks, then sighs, “I can’t say, I’m particularly surprised with Wei Wuxian’s career choice.”

“...Seriously.”

“You did not hear them. I’m aware of the publics perception of us, particularly Wangji, but trust me. He’s not nearly as prudish as people seem to think.” Zewu-Jun states, sliding the phone back with a rueful smile and a familiar look.

Nie Mingjue exits out of the app before shutting off and pocketing his phone. He knew that look. The look of an elder brother who really didn’t need to know so much about their younger brother’s sex life. He knew that look well. “Right. Speaking of Hanguang-Jun, how would he react?”

Zewu-Jun purses his lips. “I can’t say he’ll be particularly favourable. Wangji’s always been quite, possessive.”

“Wei Wuxian is persuasive. I’m kind of curious as to who would falter first.” Nie Mingjue snorts, picking up his own cup of tea. It was good tea.

Zewu-Jun’s eyebrows were furrowed, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Wuxian’s not going give up his livelyhood. He enjoys it. Even if he falls back in love with Hanguang-Jun, I’m not sure he’ll quit it.” Nie Mingjue states, shaking his head. It was an understatement. Wei Wuxian loves his job. As he so often gushes. Nie Mingjue’s honestly just happy Wei Wuxian doesn’t give him details.

Zewu-Jun slowly nods, understanding dawning, “You think Wei-gongzi will convince Wangji to do porn.” Zewu-Jun winces, “I, hate that I cannot say it’s out of the realm of possibilities.”

Nie Mingjue snorts and then smirks, “Ah, Zewu-Jun, how about a friendly bet?”

Zewu-Jun’s brows pinch slightly, eye narrowing, before he smirks, “Only if you call me Lan Xichen.”

Ohhhkay. Zewu-Jun had said to at the beginning of their meeting, but Nie Mingjue had honestly kind of ignored it. Immortals are a big deal. But then again. He was about to gamble with one. “Ok, Lan Xichen, why don’t we make a bet in favour of our, brothers.” Nie Mingjue isn’t entirely sure what else to refer to them as. If Nie Huaisang was married, then technically Wei Wuxian would be his brother. If they’re not, he might as well be at this point either way.

“Are Huaisang and Wuxian married?” Lan Xichen cuts in, confused.

“I’m not entirely sure. Maybe. Not important.” Nie Mingjue shakes his head, “If Hanguang-Jun manages to convince Wei Wuxian to quit his work, you win, and if Wei Wuxian manages to convince Hanguang-Jun to do porn, I win.”

Lan Xichen nods, smiling with interest, “And what are we betting?”

Nie Mingjue smirks, this was going to be fun.

[mashiraostail]

I've been having a lot more depressive episodes lately.(dw, im getting help) But, can i have Nemuri and Aizawa comforting a s/o who just had a depressive episode? You don't have to do it if you're not comfortable with the topic, but if you do thank you so much

Thanks for the request! I can do this for sure and I hope it helps! As someone who is also depressed I put some lil tidbits from my own struggles in here (specifically the gargantuous amount of energy turning the shower knob can take me and how that simple action has literally stopped me showering for weeks) If you’re struggling right now please remember to extend your body the same kindness you so consistently extend to other people!! Even by sitting here reading my writing you’re being so amazingly kind to me!! Project that back onto yourself and give yourself a reward, a glass of water at your favorite temperature, or even a snack if you can stomach it! It’s easy to drown ourselves in comfort content and neglect tangible acts of self love but I promise the energy will be worth it!

Nemuri: It’d been a while since Nemuri heard from you, and even longer since she’s seen you, which was rare. You didn’t drop off the face of the planet or anything but you had been evading her invitations to go out or even just to spend a night with her. She wanted to avoid showing up unannounced but it was becoming concerning. The last thing she wanted was to make you think she didn’t trust you or to startle you, but whenever she brought it up you brushed her off. She hated the idea of you being sick or even just swamped with work all alone when she was more than capable of helping you out. Eventually she just decides to show up, she texts you first but you don’t even appear to open it, she just had a bad feeling and if hero-work taught her anything it was to always trust a bad feeling.  She knocks on your front door for a while to no avail, ringing the bell intermittently, she’s just met with silence. Her key works which at least is a good sign that you didn’t pack up and move across the country or something.  “Hello??” She wanders into the apartment. It’s dark and radio silent. But there are dishes in the sink, your shoes strewn around the entryway and your bag on the table.  “You here??” You were definitely here, your car keys were on the couch and your usual walking around sneakers...or. one of them was underneath the coffee table.  She decides to check your bedroom.  “I’m gonna open the door okay?? If you aren’t decent now’s the time to say it don’t freak out at me okay?? I’m opening the door now.” She opens the door with covered eyes. “Hello?” She peeks between her fingers and is greeted with the sight of you, or the lump that is probably you, curled up underneath your duvet.  “Nemuri.” Your head pokes up overtop your pile of pillows and the fluff of your comforter.  “Well hello!” She piques, clearly relieved to see you, “good morning to you sleeping beauty, though it is 4 in the afternoon.” She pushes the door open the rest of the way and enters the room.  “What’s up?” She leans against your dresser, “where have you been?”  “Where does it look like I’ve been?” You sigh.  “What’re you a vampire or something now? Decided to go fully nocturnal?” She grins but you don’t mimic her amusement.  “What’s wrong babe? I’ve done like 4 things that you would have laughed at by now. Something’s obviously wrong. I texted you and called but you didn’t reply...are you upset with me? This isn’t how you normally act when you’re upset with me...” She wrings her hands together, “normally you come to see me all the time, I’m not saying you have to be inseparable from me or anything but...well this just isn’t like you..if I made you mad I’d rather you tell me babe since I’m clueless..”   You sigh, suddenly feeling guilty for your radio silence for the past few days and the increasing distance you’d put between the pair of you for the past week or so now. It was intentional you just shut down and you didn’t mean to but everything was a chore, even the things you loved, sometimes especially the things you loved.  “No...it’s not you.”  “Well I’m...” She looked confused, “I’m glad to hear that but I’m still kinda lost. Are you sick? Did someone else make you upset? If someone else is giving you problems you need to tell me.” Having the green light gets her to venture further into your bedroom and sit on the edge of your mattress, “I can set some people straight if that’s the problem.”  “No it’s..nobody...no one is giving me any trouble that’s not it.” You also suddenly feel sort of stupid. You don’t even know what put this on. One day you were fine and the next you were worse, and then next was worse and the next was worse than that until you ended up where you were now. In bed 5 days removed of a shower where your one meal of the day consisted of a plain bagel sometimes toasted other times not.  “No one?” She reaches out and holds the bend of your knees, “are you sure?” You nod. “Okay then...well what is it? I wanna help but you’ve gotta let me know how.”  “I just...” You scrub your face, “I just...it’s been a really bad week or..2 weeks or..however long. I don’t know. I feel so depressed and exhausted and everything is annoying and tiring and no matter how much I sleep I can’t seem to stay awake.” She takes in a breath at that and nods with it.  “Oh. OH. Well now I feel stupid pulling away so much. I just didn’t wanna be overbearing and offend you or..well...well what’s up? What set all this on? Did something happen to...to make you feel upset or?”  “I don’t know...I just think I haven’t been taking good enough care of myself. I’ve been slacking and procrastinating and then I got overwhelmed and then I got upset and now...I’m here. I just feel like such an idiot and now to think I made you think I was upset with you because I was too-”  “Don’t even finish that sentence.” Nemuri shushes you, “it’s alright. Really you don’t have to feel bad about that. I get it, I understand now so it’s okay. I’m sorry for making it about me.” Her hand moves up to squeeze your thigh.  “I wanna do everything I can to help okay? Whatever I can do to help you come out on top with this thing...” Her other hand squeezes your lower arm, “I don’t want you to feel like you can’t come to me with this sort of thing okay? We don’t have to get into the...deep emotional part of it if you don’t wanna talk about that with me. But we can start small can’t we? When’s the last time you had something to drink?” She looks at the empty glasses on your bedside table. “And when’s the last time you ate or took a shower?”  The face you make at that tells her more than enough.  “Okay you don’t have to answer that.” She reaches out tuck your hair back but you flinch away from it, the last thing she need to feel was your dirty hair.  “Come on with that.” She sighs, “I don’t think you’re gross. I’m not grossed out at all okay? I promise. I’ve had my fair share of shower protests. It’s in the job description, no ones perfect. I love you, smelly or not. Now hold still and let me give you a kiss.”  You relent at that. She presses a long kiss to your temple, sighing into your skin, “I’m sorry you feel this way. I don’t wan you to feel this way ever..so let’s start small.. How about a nice bath, yeah? I’ll set one up for you you can soak in it for a bit, while you do that I’ll clean up around here, change your sheets and...work on that.. situation.. in the sink, then when you’re ready I’ll come wash your hair for you. After that you can relax in the bath a little more, shave if that’s something that will make you feel good, or I could put some conditioner in your hair. Or you can just sit in a nice warm bath with a cold bottle of water and get your energy back up. I’ll get you some real food in the mean time.”  She doesn’t poke or prod for information, she washes your hair with the same care and consideration that went into most of the things she did, she didn’t ask to join you, or to stay. She asked if you wanted to be alone for a little bit longer and left you to it when you confessed that you did only poking in to leave ‘the comfiest looking pajamas I could find’ for when you were done cleaning up. You manage to get yourself up and out of the bath without having to call for the help or extra motivation to do it. She only looks delighted to see you.   “How’d the bath go? Did I use enough bubbles?”  “It was nice..I didn’t realize how..far gone I was..I feel better..” You rub your arm, if she’s at all perturbed by your confession it’s not detectable.  “Yeah?? I had a feeling it would help. Now come here. I really want a hug.” She pats the empty bed beside her and you make your way over.  “Good, there you are.” She wraps her arms around you and sighs, “I missed you.” She tucks you easily into her chest, her free hand scratching the nape of your neck, “don’t apologize for that.” She stops you before you can talk.  “I ordered some food from that place you like. I wanted to make something so you could get some food in you a little faster but...you’re running a little low on raw materials.” She combs her fingers through your wet hair, “it’s okay though having your favorite might make you feel a little better.”  “Yeah..thanks for being here.” You close your eyes, still exhausted but your chest felt lighter, your whole body felt lighter.  “Of course. I only wish I came sooner but...” She pulls back and looks at you, holding the base of your skull in her hands, “I get wanting to be alone sometimes. Needing space to get your feet on the ground is normal but...don’t be afraid to ask for my help either. If there ever is a time that you want me here, need me here even...I want to be here. I know I can rely on you so I hope you know you can rely on me too.” She presses a long kiss to your forehead at that.  “I think I’ll feel a lot better tomorrow.” Your voice is quiet and your fingers brush against her collarbone. “That’s good.” Her palm pulls your hair off your forehead, “in the meantime I’ll be here to help you get there.” 

Aizawa:  Aizawa was an introvert himself. He liked being around other people at times of course but sometimes he just needed a quiet room to recharge. He figured you did too, and plus you were both plenty busy. For the most part he trusted your judgement and tended to not be very insecure when it came to how much time you spent together. He liked being around you, and would rather be with you than not for the most part but he understood probably better than anyone what exhaustion can do to a person. If you were tired then you could recharge. That being said he wouldn’t avoid you if he saw you out and about, and he saw you out and about.  It was actually late for you to be out, late for anyone to be out really. You were leaving a convince store and he was getting ready to call it a night with patrolling.  “Hey.” The way you jump out of your skin at his voice tells him he maybe should have approached you with noisier steps.  “Sorry.”  “It’s okay.” You clutch the bag you were holding, “I just thought I was getting mugged is all.”  “You think there are criminals running around when I’m out here? I don’t know if I should be insulted.” He teases a little and you jump.  “That isn’t how I meant-”  “I know.” He chuckles, “I know. What are you doing out so late? It’s almost midnight.”  “I...had to get some stuff.. You bounce nervously on the balls of your feet, the last thing you needed was him seeing you like this. It was the first time you’d gone out in like 2 weeks, you were sure you looked as terrible as you felt.  “You don’t look very happy to see me.” Ever intuitive. You supposed you didn’t keep it much of a secret, the first thing you did whenever you saw him was reach out for him, his hand, his arm, his waist, you just wanted to touch. Or normally you did, but now all you wanted to do was get away.  “I’m just...exhausted. Sorry I am happy to see you. I’m always happy to see you.” You rub your eyes, “like you said, it’s late.”  “It is late.” He agrees, “I’m finished here.”  “O-oh that’s good..are you hurt at all?”  “No, slow night...but.. why don’t we spend the night together? Since we’re both here.”  He didn’t need to see the state of your apartment.  “U-uh okay yeah we can go to yours..” “You’re closer.” He raises his eyebrows, letting his goggles fall around his neck, “and you just bought stuff. I’m assuming it’s for your apartment not mine.” He peeks into the bag, “I don’t remember sending you a midnight shopping list.”  “W-well yeah but there’s school tomorrow and you’re closer so it’s probably easier for you and-”  “You’re an extra five minutes out.” He laughs at that, “and unless you trashed all my things in the week I went without seeing you I have plenty of stuff to wear at your place.”  “Y-yeah I mean..that is true.”  He raises one eyebrow at you, “so?” You couldn’t think of a good reason to say no, the mountain of dishes in your sink, the full washer and dryer and 2 baskets of unfolded laundry didn’t seem like an excuse, especially considering it was knowledge you wanted to withhold from him in the first place.  “Y-yeah sure..it has been a while.”  “Alright, let’s go then.” He reaches out and takes your bags from you batting your hand away as you try to stop him.  “You’ve been working-”  “I got it. It’s fine come on. You really shouldn’t be out so late by yourself you know.”  “You’re probably right..” You murmur, making to follow him down the road.  He doesn’t pry about your jittery state, he asks a few question about how your day went and seems to back down even more when you take a hold of his arm on your walk.  “It really is slow tonight.” He looks around, “at least you picked a good night for a midnight excursion.” He nudges you a little playfully and you hum.  You wanted to be more engaging but every step brought you closer to the impending doom that would be Shota seeing the abysmal state in which you were living.  Once you get to the front door you realized you didn’t have your keys.  “I...” You look at your shoes and he leans against the wall.  “What’s up?”  “I don’t have my keys..”  “You really are lucky you ran into me.” He straightens up and shifts the bags to one arm to fish around in his pocket, “I’ve got one. Are you feeling alright?” You don’t reply because...well he’d figure it out.  “Please don’t say anything rude.” You warble mostly to yourself as the lock clicks, he pushes the door open. “What do you mean don’t say anything rude, why would I-” He clicks the light on as he steps inside. Oh it’s worse than you remembered. How’d your laundry get to the couch? And why did you get a new glass every time you wanted water? Especially when you didn't drink it half the time. Everything is clearer in hindsight.  “Oh.” He sets the bags down on the coffee table, which is really the only clear surface in a 10 foot radius of him.  “I’m sorry.” You groan, slumping into the wall and scrubbing your face, “I’m so gross-”  “I didn’t say that...But let me ask again.”  He turns to you, “are you feeling alright?”  “Not really no..” You look down again and he starts to pick up some of the glasses.  “The sink isn’t any better..” You warn him, hugging your chest.  “Yeah I figured.” He turns to you, arms full of various aspects of your mess. “Don’t look so guilty. Come on.” He nods you towards your kitchen, you figure the least you can do is pick up a few spoons, bowls and glasses on your way in.  “You don’t have to clean up after my stupid mess I-”  “Don’t be so hard on yourself.” He shakes his head, “you don’t feel good. I wish you’d said something sooner. I would have come when you asked.”  “Don’t feel bad.” You murmur, “I wasn’t ready anyways.”  “Come here.” He holds an arm out and you cringe, “I probably smell terrible I haven’t-”  “It’s okay. It’s all okay. I’m not holding any of this against you, no one is. Come on. Over here.” So you shuffle into his chest, eventually wrapping tired arms around his ribs.  “Does this help?” He’s rubbing long strokes up your back, his palm his firm against you every stroke pushing you a little closer. You just nod into his chest.  “Did something happen? Did someone upset you? Or are you just having a hard time right now?”  “I’m just having a hard time.” You reply, trying not to let your voice sound to wet or warbly. “Cry if you want to. If you need to. It’s okay. I won’t hold that against you either. Sometimes the best thing you can do is cry. I’ll be here for you while you do.” It’s not loud hiccup-y sobs, you aren’t bawling and sniffling. It sounds just as tired as the rest of you, it’s listless and exhausted and downright empty. It honestly hurt him to hear it a little. He’s been there too.  One hand holds the back of your head the other keeps running those lines up your back pressing between your shoulder blades.  “What do you think about taking a shower?” His fingers glide along the hem of your tee shirt, grazing your neck lightly. “It’s not that I don’t want to-”  “I know. Hey, I know.” He pulls you away and slicks your hair back, “but you’re neglecting your body right now. Even if you don’t mean to. Your skin and hair will be really thankful for a shower right now. How can I help you get there?”  He takes you to the bathroom and carefully undresses you going as far to turn the shower nob for you.  “Sit if you need to.” He reminds you, gathering your clothes off the ground, “I’m going to leave the door open so call me if there’s anything you can’t do, but I’ll come check on you in 10 minutes okay? Is there anything you don’t want me touching or cleaning without you? Is there anything that’s off limits?”  “No...it’s okay...I just feel bad you’ve been working and now-”  “Don’t feel bad. I’m not doing anything that you wouldn’t do for me. Take your shower, I’ll come back in a few minutes after I fold up the laundry out here. Try to stay focused.”  “Thank you.” You nod and squeezes your shoulder.  “You’re welcome. And thank you for trusting me.”  He helps you out of the shower and wraps you in a towel. In the time you’d spent in the shower he’d gotten most of your dishes into the dish washer and you could see your couch again.  “New sheets.” He kisses your temple, “you ready to go to sleep?”  You nod as he tosses a tee shirt to you.  “Tomorrow morning you’re gonna eat a good breakfast with me right?”  “I don’t really have much to cook with-” “We’ll make it work.” He leans back against the pillows, “don’t worry about it now. Right now just focus on getting some sleep, real genuinely restful sleep. Wake me up if you need me.” 

[unmanageable-day]

days gone by | chapter 2

summary. after a typical break-up, your cousin tried to set you up with his friend who happened to just broke up recently as well. after months, you knew it wouldn’t end well and the universe agreed, as suddenly he went m.i.a and it was easier for you to live being free and single. until one day he texted you again…

genre. social media!AU, fake dating!AU / angst 🙂

pairing. DAY6 Young K (Kang Younghyun) x f reader

notes. still not back to writing regularly, i'm just emptying my draft 🙃

previous chapter

It was another usual day for the busy song-writer Kang Younghyun to have several meetings in one day, and always ended his day with hanging out with some friends. This time was a celebration of one close friend of him who just launched a non-fiction book. It was not even his big day, yet somehow he always caught attention.

"Younghyun, would you like to be introduced to a friend of mine?" a friend asked him. That was probably the 100th time he got that question. When he got tired from answering nicely, he only put a fake smile and laugh.

"What's with people, honestly?" Younghyun irritatedly whispered to Bang Chan while he still maintained his fake smile.

Chan could only laugh as well.

"Seriously, Younghyun, you've been single for too long," another friend said.

Younghyun tilted his head right and left as an awkward fake laugh slipped off of his mouth. Then he turned to another side of the cafe and found someone familiar. A lightbulb just popped up inside his head. A crazy idea, for sure. And he wasn't sure of the consequences.

"Guys, excuse me for a moment." Then he flee off to the place where he spotted the familiar person.

Younghyun quickly came back to his friends. And he wasn't alone. He brought a cold-looking girl who had similar eyes shape with him. She had a slight smile on her face that made her look kind of elegant and charismatic. Especially the way she naturally stroked her wavy hair to the back of her left ear, showing a pair of gold dangle earrings that matched with her simple, plain midi black dress.

"Hey, guys. Actually from now on, no need to worry about me going solo. Because I have her," Younghyun confidently stated. "Say hi to Go Y/n."

The girl instantly turned to face the guy beside her. She then got a signal from him that clearly said SOS. Somehow she just got it and decided to play along. "Hi, my name is Y/n. Nice to meet you all," she said politely as she bowed.

Younghyun's friends cheered and excitedly welcomed you, Y/n.

"Wow, how did you hide her all this time?"Jinyoung cooed. "How long exactly have you been together?"

You and Younghyun exchanged looks, hoping an answer would pop up out of nowhere. Younghyun mumbled and stuttered too much 'err' and finally you remembered the first time you met. "Only 3 months," you shortly answered with slight smile still on your face. Beside you was Younghyun approvingly giving nods with excitement.

"And how did you meet?" asked Jinyoung again.

"You can ask that to Go Shinwon. He was the one who had the idea," Younghyun quicky said. He basically couldn't think of making up any other stories.

This time you nodded. "I'm Shinwon's cousin," she added.

With that, you officially became the center of attention and Younghyun could save his energy from saying gibberish stuff to answer people's questions. Somehow you were cooperative and creative enough to play along. The fact that you could came up with a convincing story of how long you two had been together and how you could always back-up Younghyun's statement actually blew his mind.

Still, he didn't know whether someday he would regret this or not.

[empty-masks]

Book One, Chapter Four

CW: Strong Language, Sexual References, Graphic Violence, Fantasy Bigotry, Smoking, Alcohol Use

Though it’s just short of worrying and nowhere near alarming for Shepherd Gemstone’s Head of Damage Assessment, Penelope Hickory frowns deeply as she thumbs through her stack of report papers for the dozenth time that week. The morning sun beams through her top-floor office windows, one of which is open to let in the cool autumn breeze, as it’s very easy for a building to get stuffy when it’s full of lycanthropes. And yet, as her carmine eyes scan the text again and again, she feels herself getting warm with annoyance.

The Smokestone Location, in the time it’s been managed by Gilroy, has earned a reputation for workplace anomalies. Dust devils consisting of loose mineral near the workers’ homes (after investigation, stemming from a poorly-kept slag dump and a particularly windy piece of valley land). Material of semi-magical origin being brought up (which has caused many a bureaucratic problem, as the visits from the local branch of Arcane Cleanup Initiative have become bi-monthly). Miners taking more chances with stealing, fighting, running (though, Hickory does remember the chewing-out he got the last time the former happened).

Yet, she can’t get the newest report out of her head. It’s entirely mundane yet completely impenetrable by her current means of investigation. If she can’t figure out why one of Gilroy’s foremen, alongside four of his miners, were found completely unconscious at the bottom of the shaft they were drilling and didn’t wake up for roughly a week, that means that in her report to her superiors, she’ll have to give a rough ballpark for the price tag on the damages. And that’s not her style.

No. Her style is the style of the tightly-wound chestnut bun, square-framed glasses, dress shirt-pencil skirt combo. The style that reads “I’m a woman who gets shit done, and if my lycanthropy ruins my outfit, that’s both your fault and your problem.” She doesn’t give rough ballparks, she gives tight estimates that paint an accurate picture of the money needed to fix the problem. Reports like these should be telling her everything she needs to know to do her job effectively. This one isn’t, and she can feel that it’s hiding something from her.

With an annoyed sigh, she stacks all the loose papers together and stands up from her desk, stretching. There’s nothing to be done with it at the moment, but she knows that won’t stop her from checking again in a few hours from now. After rolling her shoulders until she feels them pop, she gently grabs and unwraps a peppermint that had been sitting near her pens all morning— the complimentary kind you get from old-fashioned breakfast joints. Maybe the cold will help her think more clearly.

Or, maybe the sound of someone knocking on her office door will. Quickly spitting out the mint into her trash can, she calls out, “Come in!”

A very plain person walks into the room, stopping just short of Hickory’s desk. She’s dressed in a white, unpatterned dress shirt. The brown slacks she’s got aren’t sharp, but more reminiscent of something an old man would wear out to Sunday brunch. Her belt has got a nice brass buckle, but the shoulder-bag she carries is an ugly canvas material, and at a glance doesn’t appear to be anything more than a sack with a rope drawn round the neck. Light blue eyes (verging on grey), a head with a dusty brown undercut, and a look on her face as though she’s just smelled something sour, Hickory finds this to be one of the most uncertain first impressions she’s ever been given.

“You must be Miss Brie,” she says, holding out her arm for a handshake.

“Yes ma’am. That’s me.” Her shake is solid, but it peters out toward the end as a thought assaults her brain. “Before we begin, may I ask about something odd I noticed on the way to your office, Miss Hickory?”

“Is it something I would need to write a check for?” Hickory fake-laughs.

“Perhaps. Do you have a program set in place for your employees to obtain grants for shampoo and body wash?” she muses.

Hickory’s fake smile turns into a real frown. “It’s floor three, isn’t it. Are they stinking up the place again?”

“I don’t have a point of reference, but I will say that it was quite strong when I was escorted through their floor. It made my eyes water.” Brie motions to one of the armchairs before Hickory’s desk, “May I?”

“Of course.”

Brie sits down, pulls open her bag, and whips out a notepad and a pen. “If all goes well on this contract, I could very well investigate them for you next, Miss Hickory. Personal hygiene is an important part of office culture, and it would be a shame to have it ruined by some particularly bad apples.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I’ll get to handling that. You only worry about what you’ve been hired for, please,” Hickory responds. “Which is something we should be getting to as of current. So, as you remember, your contract lasts for the week, but in the case of an emergency situation, it will be extended to the appropriate length. Hopefully, in said week, you will be able to close this assignment out, so that I can get my end of the job done sooner, rather than later. And as your current objective, you are assigned to monitor everyone who has had a recorded check-in with medical personnel after the incident a week prior at the Smokestone Location. Do you have a list ready?”

Brie has already begun scribbling into her notebook like mad. At the prompt, she puts her pen in her mouth to flip a few sheets back. “Yes, I believe I do. Three miners, one of which was marked down on her profile as being previously employed as a freelance security officer. One technician, a recent hire from further up north. And a directing foreman, one of Mister Harold Gilroy’s major players. These five suspects, all involved in an incident where your various doctors could find quote, nothing wrong with them, unquote, after they had been found unconscious at the bottom of a mineshaft with broken equipment.” Brie looks up from her paper. “Does that sound sufficient?”

“Yes, actually,” Hickory responds, quite impressed. A random hire knowing their stuff is getting rarer by the day around here. “While I’m not one to jump to conclusions, I suspect coercion of the medical personnel on-site at worst, and an incubating illness at best. Regardless of the actual situation, are you prepared for either them, or any others that might come your way? This may be more dangerous than anticipated.”

“I have reasons to believe so, yes,” Brie says. “I carry a .45 in my bag, and I have recently taken a refresher course on how to use it.”

“Are you certain you understand the stakes?”

Brie raises an eyebrow, confused. “If I was not willing to participate, I would not have sent in my resume after seeing your post.”

At first, Hickory is unsure as to whether to take that as some kind of insubordination. After looking at the freelance detective’s face for a moment, she realizes that the woman’s being genuine. She smiles, holding up a hand in apology. “That’s what I was hoping to hear, Miss Brie. Your contract shall be publicized within the enterprise shortly, and your paycheck will gain top priority for our budgeting team. Thank you kindly for picking up this job for us.”

“Of course! I should be thanking you, as a matter of fact. The swiftness of your hiring process was much appreciated,” Brie beams. “Pleasure doing business with you, Miss Hickory.”

“The feeling is mutual, Miss Brie. Happy hunting!”

Brie shuts the door to Chief of Damage Assessment Hickory’s office and makes her way out of the building, which, despite the smell of werewolf that seemed to seep from the walls, hums with productivity. She finds herself standing out against the restrained lavishness of the office building by being only just somewhat restrained in fashion sense and personality, herself. Her boots click against the tile flooring, eyes quickly working their way from point of interest to point of interest as she descends the office building back to the parking lot. She notices that there are cubicles made bigger for those lycanthropes who turn during the day. And that said lycanthropes are more often than not all Werewolves. On occasion, she’d find there to be a few oddballs— she had never seen a Were-Raven before, and it is quite a terrifying experience to bump into one while deep in thought. She hastily walked through floor three, pinching her nose shut with her free hand. And as she exited the building, she found herself stopped by the security officer, who asked her where that smell was coming from. When she explained, the officer rolled his eyes, and pulled out his pocket radio to start organizing a detail, just in case another event happened. She chuckles to herself, finding the thought of confronting a couple smelly employees turning into a brawl funny in a dark kind of way.

She sits down on a bench outside the Shepherd Gemstone Enterprises HQ to take in the nice weather, and to go over what she had scribbled into her notebook again. She scrunches up her face in concern. After all the research she’s done, something is just not quite right about this assignment. The company is making money hand over fist, even at the Location she’s going to be investigating. But, they’re willing to pay a private investigator tens of thousands on extremely short notice, mind you, to get to the bottom of a happening that if they wanted to, could lie about very easily. She just met with the person in charge of Damage Assessment, which, for an investigation contract, is odd— and it wouldn’t be too presumptuous of her to think that this concern might run all the way up to Hickory. Brie spins a pen in her hand, bunching her eyebrows together in thought. If the Head of Damage Assessment is meeting with me personally, that means that this must be either big, or urgent, or both. And if it’s one of those two things, that means that there’s something about these miners having been knocked unconscious for a week that merits those adjectives. The paycheck also indicates this theory; twenty thousand Tilt for a single job. She jots down in her notebook, “Treat miner incident as major event. Something missing from employer’s perspective??? Job extension likely, if true. Big $$!!!”

She claps the notebook closed, throws it into her sack, and stands up from the bench. This is going to be an odd few days, she thinks to herself. But when have assignments like these ever been normal? She yawns, and rolls up the sleeves of her dress shirt. Perhaps she’ll qualify for a bonus if she uncovers information quickly? That would be icing on the cake, considering the state of her wallet after her last job bombed entirely. A little extra money to bring back to the girlfriend at the end of the day would really help things out.    

Brie leans backward, stretching out her hips. Her plan will be as follows— get to the site, investigate the scene of the incident, make sure there’s nothing that the workers there have missed. From there, consider whether interviews with the surviving five miners would be productive, and send back any relevant information directly to Hickory. It is a simple concept with a wide range of difficulty. And there is no time like the present to begin. She walks out into the parking lot, hops in her sedan, and heads off down the road into the forest, kicking up dirt as she drives.

==============================================================

In the mess hall of the Admin building, it’s about time for the foremen currently off shift to grab themselves lunch. Around some of the tables there are bundles of fur, feathers, and scales chomping and gnashing their fangs and what have you as they consume the latest in the mess’s offerings, those being admittedly good sandwiches made with fresh and local ingredients, a cup or two of mixed fruit, some added veggies from nearby, and then a small dessert. However, not everyone has one of those desserts. Piper, for instance, is getting back too late to get her hands on the simple pumpkin cookies. As she sets her platter down across from Blondie she notices that he doesn’t have one either and that his platter is largely untouched; he’s barely just sat down before she did, she assumes.

There’s nobody else at his table, tucked away in one of the corners of the hall. It’s the perfect opportunity. If people listen in it could be a damper, but all things considered, they’re probably all too caught up in whatever workplace gossip’s on the docket today to bother to eavesdrop as she speaks with Blondie. “I don’t mean to go and ruin your lunch, Mr. B, but I was wondering if I might be able to ask some more private questions about that initiative you’re hawking?”

“You’re the first to ask anything about it, so far. Go right ahead, so long as you don’t mind me having a bite to eat or talking with my mouth full.” His shoulders roll, his lips peel back to flaunt some immaculate fangs, and he picks up a small cup of water to sip at it. “Ask your piece, kid.”

“What does it have to do with your position? You’re real high up on the food chain, right?”

He scratches his scruffy chin for a moment, then nods. “Highest you can get without running the joint, all things considered. My position in an official capacity is something along the lines of “Chief Officer of Acquisitions,” but there’s a lot more to it. Technically the security initiative is a little similar, with the exception being that you won’t be paid nearly as much nor will you be sent on missions quite as high or low profile. You’d handle more local shit probably, but it’d have a similar theme to it.”

“You get paid a lot?” It’s not exactly good manners— that is to say, the bosses don’t like it— to ask how much someone on par with your boss is making, or even to discuss pay among their peers; luckily enough for Piper, Blondie’s response is to bust out his wallet rather than a pink slip, and after opening it up unclips a small latch to let out a lengthy accordion of fading pictures of the giant and several others. The most recurring faces in each one, each taken in some damnably domestic setting, a backyard here, a public park there, even a beach, are a couple of kids— an elder sister and a younger brother— and a human woman with shoulder length brown hair and a smile taken straight off of a cosmetics billboard.

“Whoa,” is all that Piper says.

“Yeah, whoa. It pays enough that I get to take these three out wherever, whenever. Far better vacation days, and the assignments are considered ‘dangerous’ enough that you get some good downtime. Like what you see, kid?”

Piper blinks, glances at him, and then back at the picture. His expression now is identical to his expression in each one, gloating, smug. “Yeah.”

“Good. My wife was a model, you know. They still use her pictures on the signs and posters for makeup and shit. Doesn’t need it to look like a million.”

“Yeah. You’ve got kids?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. It was just another day at the office,” Blondie chuckles. “You?”

She shakes her head. “No, I’ve got parents.”

Blondie whistles. “Neat. Were both your parents like you, or are you one of those weird half-breeds like my kids?”

“Weresnakes, yeah. Pa’s a butcher and a hunter, Ma has this side business selling—”

He clears his throat. “That’s nice, kid. Hey, why didn’t I get handed one of those cookies when I grabbed my food earlier? There some nasty rumour about me or something?”

“No, desserts just tend to be in limited supply. Neither of us got here fast enough to get any of them, I guess. That’s just the way it is sometimes.” She sighs and deflates a bit into her seat, but then Blondie stands.

“A bit of advice from someone who’s been at this for longer than you have? If you want to do the shit that I do, there’s one rule you’ve gotta keep in mind always. No matter what happens, no matter what shit goes down on the job, and no matter who or what you’re up against, always keep it in your brain.”

“So what is it?” She turns in her seat, following him as he moves over to another table, where several foremen are still getting at their lunches, Jessup included.

Jessup is about five bites away from polishing off the sandwich when a large hand takes the back of his head and forces his face down onto the tray, smashing the sandwich, tossing the fruit, and crushing the vegetables. Another hand dips down beside his now food-splattered face to pick up the lone, uneaten pumpkin cookie. In his ear, he hears Blondie growl: “Thanks.”

The other foremen at the table all stare, but do not speak. They just watch as Blondie lets go of Jessup’s head and walks back over to his seat, where he makes a point to eat the cookie. Jessup himself doesn’t lift his head until a solid few seconds afterward, when he wipes his face clean of his now mushy lunch and slips into his mask again, mumbling, “Of course sir, always happy to be of help sir.”

It’s only after finishing his cookie that Blondie speaks to Piper, finishing his advice with a sweet and simple, “You take what you want.”

She blinks. “Take what you want? You slammed his head into the table over a cookie?”

“If you want to succeed,” He begins again, leaning back in his seat, “you have to take what you want. Nobody’s gonna give it to you and most people aren’t lucky enough to have it handed to them. Everything I’ve got, I got because I established myself. I took it. Of course, I have natural advantages. I spawned tall, strong, and mean, all on top of our mutual condition, the best possible option one could luck out and get. Guys like that nocturnal idiot Jessup don’t have my luck. And that means he’s easy pickings. You’re controlled, but you’re a snake. People like you need to work, even with your natural advantages.”

He waves a hand vaguely, and again she nods and says to him, “Okay.”

==============================================================

Judith silently judges her own appearance in the mirror of the bathroom in her administration suite, which is actually just one of the several foreman apartments stuffed in the backside of the Admin building offsite, far enough into the surrounding forest that the air isn’t equal parts mining particulate and vehicle smoke. Her scrutiny sparks the thought that her already pale skin is looking off just a tad, and for a moment she swears she’s looking whiter than typical, especially in comparison to her black hair, which she quietly runs a comb through to keep it from tangling. Then, it’s put in order with a faded, frayed green ribbon, tied so that she has a loose ponytail to toss over one shoulder.

Then comes the gray jumpsuit, pulled over her basic undershirt and work pants, and then boots and gloves to match— and finally, she slings her breathing mask around her neck and moves to head back into her apartment, prepared for the long day ahead. Through her mind plays a myriad of potentialities, from screaming matches over more fumbled dives to firing the Techie, Cherry. For a brief second it even brings her a sense of satisfaction, which surprises her more than it does when Jessup enters.

He’s taller than her by a full foot and a half, clad in the same gray jumpsuit— though it fits him far better, with the loose collar snug around his thick neck and the cuffs of both sleeves wrapping tight around hairy forearms— and his head is wrapped from back to front in a gray breathing mask, with the only visible feature beneath being intense, emerald eyes, near mirrors of her own. And his face is covered in lunch.

“Judith,” his deep voice rumbles, thundering in his rib cage. “Boss wants to see you.”

She shakes herself from her sudden trance at the sound of his voice, then nods. “Thanks, Jessup.”

Her nod is returned by Jessup, who then turns and makes his way out, ducking his head to avoid bumping it on the doorway. When the door shuts, she’s left grumbling to herself. After readjusting the ribbon she had tied her hair with, she heads out and down the hall, walking from the foreman apartments to the main administrative building. Along the way she had to pass the dining hall, with a few large wooden tables and the other foremen having lunches of various levels of structural integrity.

By the time she arrives in the main office, her grumbles of displeasure were outstripped by the growls of her stomach, though both fade out when she’s faced with the scowl and snarl of her superior. The secretary at the desk out front hardly needed to announce that Judith had arrived before the man’s calling her in. and once inside his personal office the door is shut from outside.

He is by no means a tall man, nor a particularly well built one; when he stands, he’s only a few inches taller than Judith and only slightly wider, being the sort of businessman that works out in front of a mirror less to track progress so much as to admire himself, despite being unremarkable in his fitness. It isn’t that he’s weak, he’s just not built enough nor frail enough to be of interest.

His features are sharp, and curled into a smile, though the upper half of his face lacks this welcoming quality his mouth and voice exuded. He’s polite, but only polite for polite’s sake, not with purpose. His entire office is similarly performative.

The walls are lined with corporate knick-knacks and trinkets, from Shepherd branded sheep bobbleheads to pictures of him and his peers, the heads of other mining operations and other major branches of Shepherd Enterprises. It’s all neatly organized in a long-forgotten way, all on dark, glossy wood, with the occasional red velvet furniture.

Judith’s green eyes are drawn to the man’s orange ones, more on the yellow side compared to Olive’s she’d noticed. They’re strongly colored, vivid and hard to ignore. Unlike the foremen under him he wears a suit, today’s being black with red pinstripes and a red tie.

“Mr. Gilly,” Judith said before pausing, stopping as the man’s hand raises to hold up one finger.

“Gil-roy,” he corrected. “Mr. Gilroy, Jude.”

She bites her tongue at the shortening of her name, and instead opts to nod her head again, looking down to Gilroy’s shoes. Unlike her dusty boots, his shoes are fine leather, a light brown, and flat-soled.

“Now, Jude, as you know, it’s your duty as a foreman to keep things running smoothly. As a foreman, you’ve been given your own section of the mining site to keep watch on, and handle everything from the dives to the safety of our assets.” He sits back behind his desk again, and with those cold eyes he looks to the soulless desk toys that sat there. Among them is the drinking bird trinket that bobbed its beak repeatedly in his glass of whisky which alone costs more than any bottle of wine Judith could get at the company store, without including the fine crystal glass itself.

“I wanted to talk to you about that, sir. I was thinking that, potentially, the new technician—”

“Is an invaluable addition to your team, and anything else said about the transfer can and will be dropped because I’m not getting you another one. The fact of the matter is, Jude, that you need him to work the machinery, including a pretty little number I’m sending your way for the next dive with the tech. I’m generous, I know.” His smile widens further, reaching uncomfortably toward his ears.

“Topic dropped, won’t argue about the tech, but sir if we want to be safe with our employees then—”

Again, Judith was stopped by the raising of his hand. “Then you shouldn’t fall asleep for a week straight, Jude. That’s on you, mind. And I’ll be the first to remind you that I didn’t say anything about safety of employees, I said safety of assets, which leads me to my second point, which feeds into why you need that tech. I’m sending over a gemcutter, the kind that won’t break down the entire wall and risk a cave in because of your incompetence.”

Her eyes widen as she unthinkingly slammed her hands on his desk, toppling the drinking bird. “It was that little shit’s fault! He wouldn’t stop mining because he thought he hit a vein!”

Before she could even realize what she’d said, the man stands from his chair and slams his own hands on the desk, shaking the room as he looms over her. In that moment, his teeth seem sharper and his hair wilder, and there’s a long, tense second of staring between them both before Judith nods her head and steps back, settling quietly into the chair across from him, wringing her hands.

His scowl fades back into a smile and he returns to a proper stance, adjusting his tie before setting his drinking bird back to wetting its beak with high quality spirits. “Jude, every miner on that dive was your responsibility, as they are now, and as they will be for the foreseeable future. The fact that he didn’t stop when told to is a sign that you aren’t asserting yourself with your workers, and that’s something that you need to get figured out before one of them ends up knocking out a wall and getting you killed.”

Her lips purse as she nods attentively, though her eyes are distant.

“You’re their guidance, Jude. You are the directing foreman of that section of the operation, and that means you need to be in control. You need to be dominant. You are their shepherd, and a shepherd does not get himself killed over sheep.” She could feel his eyes digging holes into her forehead, burrowing in search of something, anything.

“Thank you, Mr. Gilroy. What is it that you’re going to be sending over, again?” She asks, finally looking back up to him.

“A drill-gemcutter hybrid, top of the line. High powered, more precise than the drill we had the techs using over there and as such, more slow going, but it’s less likely to bust a hole in anything. Just be careful with it, Jude. The controls can be finicky.”

There’s a brief moment of silence between them, and then he pulls the glass of whisky out from under the bird and gently slides it over to Judith’s side of the desk. There’s a brief gesture toward the glass, and then he rests back into his velvet desk chair, hands perching themselves on the dark, wooden arms.

She accepts it with a small sigh, knocking back the whole glass quickly before setting it back on the desk and putting her mask on. “I promise you, sir, the incident with the tech won’t happen again. I’ll make sure he understands who’s in charge.”

“Good! That’s good, Jude, because I was worried that you might not be cut out for Shepherd. As much as we appreciate a willingness to bark orders, you have to know when to bite. If you want to move up in this company, you have to be willing to fight your way to the top of the pack. I trust that you understand this?”

Judith nods one last time, tucking her ponytail into her uniform collar.

“Good girl. I don’t want to have to hand your job over to someone new. I happen to like you.” His grin returns to its cold, unnatural width again before Mr. Gilroy waves her out, the door opening before she actually reaches for the doorknob.

After her swift and silent exit, she rushes back up the hall to the dining room, where she runs to the kitchen, already empty, to receive a sandwich pale in comparison to its already constructed and consumed brothers and sisters. The sandwich is placed into her lunch box, a grey steel affair with a lock and a hinge of a similar make to the toolboxes that were endemic to the worksite, alongside a thermos of clean water before she heads off to ride out to the mine with her coworkers.

Chapter End

============================================================== 

[[ Table of Contents ]]

Blondie & The Smokestone March is © 2020-2022 Empty Mask. All Rights Reserved.

[weasleypogues]

newbie on set pt.2 (r.p)

so i got a lot of requests saying to do a part two so i hope u guys enjoy lol :) also!!!! i’m gonna put little twists on it here and there because it’s going to be like shes going into season 2 and sarah and john b are in the bahamas

read part 1 if you haven’t already :D

part 3 part 4

tag list for the series so far: ivebeenthinkingboutu nas-marie-loves-u k-k0129 

masterlist.

after a lot of preparation with fittings, readings, rehersals, and everything in between, you were finally shooting today. you and the cast had excitedly texted back and forth in the group chat but rudy made sure he also texted you on the side as he was eager to still get to know you.

you, madelyn, and madison sat in the makeup and hair trailer, gushing about the scenes you were shooting today and how excited you guys were to just be in south carolina and have fun like they did last year.

“did you see the tiktok i sent you?” madison asked madelyn, giggling and glancing at you because you were the once to convince madison to send it in the first place. madelyn glared at the two of you snickering, as she rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight back the giggle.

“yes! i did! i see them everywhere. ‘relax b john, i have a gutter, get you’re head out of the brother’ or ‘it’s not like i’ve never seen a gutter before, get your head out of your ass john b’, they literally fill up my page!” madelyn responded, laughing her ass off. you guys were referring to the hundreds of tiktoks that mocked that line in the first season. you threw your headback in laughter, tears coming out of your eyes. your hairdresser lola glared at you playfully and placed your head forward again because you kept interrupting her. you blew her a kiss in the mirror as a joke and she laughed.

“you guys are something else..” she trailed off, a huge smile upon her face. 

“are you nervous for today (y/n/n)?” madison turned to you and asked. you let your cheeks fill up with air before letting the breath out slowly, in deep thought. you hated to say it but you were literally terrified. you didn’t want to be the reason that a scene that should’ve taken maybe 60 minutes at most to shoot could take longer because you weren’t working to your full potential. “i’ll take that hesitation as a yes..”

“i just don’t wanna fuck up. like no one does, but if i did it on my first day it would be all i think about.” you responded, twidling with your thumbs.

“you did amazing at the table read and great at rehearsals, you’re gonna do great today.” madeyln smiled, reassuring you. “especially......because your first scene is with rudy today.” she smirked, sending a wink your way.

you felt your face grow hot and cowered in your seat slightly, but not enough that lola couldn’t continue working on your hair. you and rudy had been texting nonstop ever since you guys left the restaraunt after the first table read. you have to admit, he was very flirty but you always seemed to psych yourself out because you caught on that he was just an outgoing and friendly guy. but madison and madelyn snapped you back to reality that he wouldn’t play footsie’s with just anyone or constantly text them if it wasn’t something that crossed his mind. 

someone with an earpiece, walkie talkie, and clipboard walked onto the trailer saying that he needed you and madison for a scene. as sarah and john b were in the bahamas, you guys weren’t getting any scenes with them for a little while. you walked out of the trailer with string bracelets and other accessories practically covering your wrists, neck, and ankle to make you look more summer-y and pogue like. you walked towards where you guys were shooting a scene in the wreck and placed the apron around your body, talking to madison. 

“lady pogue! baby pogue!” you heard a familiar boy yell and you turned around to see rudy and jonathan. jonathan had on a green tshirt and grey cargo shorts, accessorized with a beaded necklace and a hat on backwards. you pulled him in for a hug first until he was pulled away suddenly. before you knew it, you were in rudy’s arms being given probably the best hug in the world. you giggled and looked up at him as you pulled away.

“you just couldn’t resist me, i get it.” you joked and raised your eyebrows. rudy laughed and let a smirk grow onto his makeup-bruised face.

“how’d you know?” he responded somewhat sarcastically. you rolled your eyes and pushed him away playfully, in doing so you admired his arms as he wore a white tanktop and backwards hat as well. 

“you guys ready to get started?” you all heard jonas yell out and you let out a deep, nervous breath and nodded. 

“you got this, (y/n).” madison reassured you, rubbing your arm lightly before the three of them got into their spots at a table at the wreck. you fixed your hair slightly, hiding your script from plain shot of the camera and tightened in apron that wrapped around your waist.

juliet walked towards the group of three pogues sitting at a picnic table at the wreck. she had just moved to the outer banks with her parents and brother for some business thing that involved her parents and real estate. however, whatever sum of money her family had didn’t stop her from finding a job and getting out to do her own thing. nick carrera was kind enough to give a sixteen year old girl with no restaraunt experience a shot at waitressing at the wreck. he said it wasn’t difficult and that his daughter, kiara, had fun. 

juliet had worked a couple of shifts with kiara and they had fun but juliet didn’t want to over step her boundaries. her next table to serve was kiara and her two friends, jj and pope? juliet couldn’t remember if that was their names or not. kiara had talked about them but said that it had been a couple of months since they’ve seen each other because they lost two friends at sea. juliet decided it was probably still a touchy subject and didn’t want to invade anymore in fear of upsetting kiara. 

however, kiara did mention that she had not seen pope or jj in a long time. juliet wasn’t sure if they had agreed to take some space or they drifted apart because of the lost friends. so when juliet saw kiara sitting at a table with two boys that fit the descriptions of her old friends, it clicked in her head. they looked like they were in a deep conversation and she thought maybe she should give them a second instead of interrupting them for a simple drink order. juliet shook her head to snap out those thoughts and walked up to the trio.

“hey kie, anything i can get for you guys to drink?” she built up the courage to ask, giving a small smile to the trio with her pen and paper in hand.

“just waters good for me, juliet. boys?” kiara started, sending a kind smile back to her. 

“same here.” pope brought up, fiddling with his fingers as it was clear they were in the middle of a deep conversation. juliet lowered her head to write on the paper and felt a wave of regret wash over her because she felt bad for interrupting the rekindling group.

“juliet? like romeo and juliet?” jj asked, looking at juliet with a small smirk on his face. juliet took a second to take in the fact that the blond kid in front of her face was bruised and cut up. he clearly fucked with the wrong people, probably kooks from old stories kiara had told her on break one day. juliet nodded with an awkward smile.

“like shakespeare intended.” juliet responded, fixing her hair slightly as a natural mannerism. 

“got a romeo? or do you want one?” jj replied with a wink. even in character, you felt your cheeks get hot because if you remembered the script correctly, that was not rudy’s line. he improvised. as you all played off that improvised line, kiara kicked jj from under the table which jj didn’t hesistate to flinch and rub his shin. “fiesty...”

kiara looked up at juliet, sending her an uncomfortable smile in a way of saying ‘sorry for him, he’s always this stupid’. “he’ll just take a water.” kiara flat out said because jj just failed to respond to juliet’s initial question.

“on the rocks!” jj joked to ease the awkwardness as juliet walked back towards the wreck to fetch them their drinks.

you heard the director yell cut and let your body somewhat relax from it’s on screen state and turned back around. “cute line, rudy! s’all you got?” you hollered over towards the trio, as you walked towards them. 

“c’mon, you gotta admit, that was funny. i had to make it a little more authentic!” rudy defended himself with his hands up. you rolled your eyes and shoved him slightly on the shoulder for almost messing you up on the first day if it wasn’t for the rest of the cast who played along so well. you let your elbow rest on his shoulder, exchanging a couple of words between madison, johnathan, and rudy in between takes. now you understood what all the hype was about.

---

after a long day at work, you packed up your backpack in your trailer, pulling your charger out of the socket. as you glanced around one last time, making sure you didn’t forget anything you heard a knock at your door. 

“come in!” you hollered out, although you didn’t let your eyes leave the surrounding areas.

“hey.” you recognized the voice as rudy’s and felt your heart flutter lightly and looked up at him. his rosy cheeks and messy blond hair almost made you melt on the spot.

“what’s up?” you asked, throwing your backpack over your shoulder and grabbing your phone. rudy took a couple of slow steps towards you and now you two were basically inches away from each other. 

“i was wondering if you were up for dinner tonight?” rudy asked, rubbing the back of his neck. he was clearly nervous, but for what?

“yeah i’m down! what do the rest of the group have in mind?” you responded, pretty obliviously. rudy let out a big breath because he thought he had gotten the hard part over with. 

“actually, i was thinking you could come around to mine and i could cook something....like y’know. just the....two of us?” rudy responded, his face slowly growing red as he avoided eye contact with you.

a huge smile grew on your face and you saw as rudy slightly relaxed himself as maybe this was a good sign. “like...a date?” you answered. you felt bad that maybe you were egging it on more and making him clearly more stressed but you needed that clarification for yourself.

“uh, that’s what i had in mind?” rudy stated, with his eyebrows raised. you lifted on your tippy toes and placed a kiss on his cheek. as you took a step back, you stared into his blue eyes and smiled.

“a date it is.” you answered. you never in your life thought that you would have the confidence to do that, so it wasn’t a surprise that your heart was racing fast and your hands felt sweaty.

you walked past him and opened the door to the trailer before turning back. “you coming or what?” you asked.

rudy did not even hesitate to follow after you.

[apothecarinomicon]

Spring week 3, part 1

I felt much better this morning. I suppose whatever sickness fairy visions impart is strictly transient—or maybe dealing with reagents has given me a good immune system. 

When I went outside, I found that I’d somehow managed to plant the foxsocks in the garden. I don’t know how I could have done it in my feverish state and I certainly don’t remember it, but there it is. The foxsocks seem to be thriving already, or at least to have a solid foothold. As I’d hoped, they should be reliably available from here on out.

As I stood there, sleepily puzzling over the garden, I heard a screech from above. Looking up, I saw what at first appeared to be a large bird circling down towards the ground. When she landed, though, I saw she was a woman with wings instead of arms, talons instead of legs, and a feathered tail, wearing a khaki uniform—a postal harpy. She greeted me while balancing on one leg and asked me to confirm my name. I told her and she introduced herself as Liùsaidh. She indicated I ought to retrieve my mail from her talon (it’s polite to wait for their permission). She asked if I might be sticking around and I said I thought I was. She said she’d see me next time I got mail and flew off.

What she’d brought was a letter, with a return address listed as “The Gleoclas J. Ledgerwood Muſeum of Magicke.” It was a single handwritten (actually, impressively calligraphed) page. The spelling and grammar was, shall we say, characteristic. It’s easier to just stick the letter in between the pages than copy it down, so that’s what I’ll do.

To whom it may concern:

It has come to our attentionne at The Friends of The Gleoclas J. Ledgerwood Muſeum of Magicke that ye are a practicing vvitch reſiding in the hamlet of Greanmoore. We would like to congratulate ye on your appointmente and hope you find the positionne both fulfilling and rewarding. We had brief correspondence with your predeceſsor and were glad to learn of yovr presence.

The Gleoclas J. Ledgerwood Muſeum of Magicke is among the premiere magical muſeums in northweſternne High Rannoc. It has one of the moſte exhauſtive collections of magical materials, svbſtances, and hiſtories native to High Rannoc in the vvorld. Academicks, travelers, and school field trips regularly reference and reſearch the Muſeum’s collections in their purſuit of more compleat knowledge.

As The Muſeum of Magicke does not have a repreſentative in Greanmoore or the surrounding areas, we have a requeſte to make of ye if you are willing to fulfill it. We pride ourſelves on the compleatneſs of our Magickal Components collectionne, but we are miſsing many of the species native to Greanmoore and its svrrounding locations. We humbly ask that ye help vs remedy this deficiency. If you are willing to do so, we woulde requeſt that ye send one of each magickal componente available in the area to the Muſeum, at the returnne addreſs listed above. Should you do so, ye will receive compenſationne.

We hope ye will partner with vs in this endeavor. Your contributionne to societal knowledge shall be greatly appreciated by generationnes of reſearchers, thinkers, and touriſts.

Eagerly avvaiting your reſponſe,

The Friends of The Gleoclas J. Ledgerwood Muſeum of Magicke

[A plain text accessible version of this letter is available here.]

Obviously, the spelling is horrendous. This might have been forgivable a few decades ago, but the shape of the ‘s’ (that is, it not being that odd ‘f’ looking thing sometimes) and the distinction between ‘u,’ ‘v,’ and ‘w’ have been standardized since before I was born. Not to mention, the Ledgerwood Museum is associated with the University of Arcbridge—so there must be someone there who knows better.

The thing is, for a long time the only people who could write were those who received higher education, so the vast majority of documents that exist throughout history have to do with academia. So, even as reading and writing became more accessible and spelling and grammar more standardized, that outdated irregular styling retroactively became associated with education, with decorum, with genius.

I’ve never really had much respect for that kind of posturing—I think that if you’re brilliant the content of your writing ought to speak for itself. You shouldn’t have to so explicitly climb on the shoulders of those who came before you, especially not by intentionally making the mistakes they made or using the outdated styles they used.

I sent back a letter inquiring about the specifics of compensation along with a sample of my foxsocks.

I’m going to the library.

 ────⊱���⊰──── 

The Greenmoor Public Library is near the center of town, not quite in the square but on Market Street directly off of it. It has some interesting architecture: it looks as if it was originally three separate buildings the size of single-family houses, that were all connected up at a later date by a circular addition between them so that the final building looks like a cog with three spokes. Each section of it is made up of a different material—exposed stone, lime render, and brick for the original houses, and cement for the central cylinder—but it all works together in a quirky, oddball way.

There are no internal walls in the library—even where there must have been external walls in the original houses. They must have knocked them down (I don’t envy that job). Every wall is lined with bookshelves from floor to ceiling, and in each of the spokes there are many close-set freestanding shelves besides, with only narrow aisles left between. At the center of the center is a circular desk, and around this are scattered tables with benches and clusters of armchairs for convenience of reading and research.

The library is owned and run by Donella and Saundra Glasford, an older couple. Saundra is actually the schoolteacher, but she helps with reshelving and organization on weekends. I know this because Donella explained it to me in detail. As soon as I walked in the door she stood from behind (within?) the circular desk and approached me, insisting that she give me a tour of the library. In addition to a survey of the entire space and what kinds of books it contained, this ‘tour’ involved a hefty amount of insight into the daily lives and routines of the Glasford family. 

They have a kid named Muiredach, who’s very interested in ancient things at the moment—giant skeletons and the like. Donella has lived here her entire life but Saundra moved here forty years ago. Saundra’s expertise is in thaumatology (specifically thaumatozoology, the study of magical animals), in which she has a degree. Meanwhile, Donella has extensive knowledge of literary and epistemological history, though she received no formal schooling past twelve.

After she finished showing me all the different sections and layouts of the library, Donella told me I should feel free to poke around as much as I wanted. She added that I wouldn’t find any secret passages or hidden rooms, and that they had nothing to hide.

I hadn’t realized before she said that what this was all about.

I told her that the rumors weren’t true, that I wasn’t some Government spy or anything like that (I heard Saundra mumble something like “well you’d also deny it if you were a clype, wouldn’t you?”). Donella quickly assured me that she believed me, but then said “better safe than sorry,” so I’m not quite sure she actually did. I told her I didn’t understand where all the suspicion was coming from. Saundra piped up, saying that I was a stranger who came to a small, isolated town I had no prior relation with to fill a position whose previous occupant had mysteriously disappeared, and asked if I understood how that looked (not in quite those words—her accent and dialect was rather strong). I told her I’d been summoned directly by Mòrag McKinney, and had the paper trail to prove it. I asked if she thought Mòrag was involved in some conspiracy, too. She shrugged and said she was just saying how it looked.

Donella said regardless that I should feel free to use the library—it was for the public, after all—and pointed me in the direction of the section on rune magic. Thus, the conversation ended, but my uneasiness didn’t entirely abate. Still, I’d come to the library for a reason.

The rune section was limited, but I didn’t need to know any more than the basics. I’d only ever been taught one way to create runes, and it was clear my predecessor used a different one—all I needed to do was to figure out which and I could reverse engineer the runes’ meanings.

I found that she used a combination of the witches’ circle and magic square methods, which are both apparently very popular. I wonder why I was never taught them. Both systems derive the shape of the sigil directly from the letters of the intentions they’re meant to invoke. It’s traditional to remove the vowels before doing so, but luckily for me my predecessor chose not to do that.

So, with a bit of work I was able to determine that the sigils I copied down meant: life, autonomy, gentleness, congeniality, and empathy respectively. It was clearly built to be a very kind golem. Now that I know that, I’m going to try to create my own sigils and charge them, and see if that helps.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

While I was at the library, I also collected a few of the greatest works of modern literature—Lord of the Midges, Beathag’s Choice, To Kill a Gull-Drake, et cetera. The next morning I packed the books into the rucksack I’d used to travel to Greenmoor and set out to take them to Morna, heading to Hero’s Hollow by way of Moonbreaker Mountain.

As I skirted the base of the mountain, I heard a voice call out from above me, crying “hey, you! Groundling!” It was clearly far above me but somehow also quite loud. I looked up and saw, blotting out the sun, a great hot air balloon.  I’d heard vague stories but had never seen one in person before. The most striking part of it was the balloon itself, made of canvas patterned beige and blue and larger than a house. The top half of it (as I was informed later) was enclosed by a net, which had metal rings on its edges attaching it to a tangle of myriad ropes and cords. These in turn held aloft the basket, which was not the simple platform I’d seen described in books but rather looked like a small sailing boat, complete with railings, rotors, and a steering wheel.

The voice announced that it hadn’t seen me around before and that I ought to climb aboard. A ladder with metal rungs unfurled over the side of the boat, just low enough that I could reach it if I jumped. I did so after making sure my rucksack was firmly on my back and shut, and climbed up to reach the aircraft.

The man onboard was only slightly taller than me. His white shirt was rumpled and stained with oil, and his left suspender was fraying. The thick goggles on his forehead, held together with large bolts and screws, were the only thing keeping his thick black hair from whipping in all directions with the wind (mine, in contrast, had already become hopelessly tangled). His sleeves were rolled up, but his forearms were covered by brown leather fingerless gloves, with metal studs that flashed in the sunlight as he hauled the ladder back onto the balloon. He wore a mask over the lower half of his face, with a cylindrical chamber marked “O2” sticking out from each cheek. Directly in front of the mouth was a clear window, so that I could see his lips moving when he spoke. He offered me a similar one and I accepted—the air was rather thin so high up. I could see him say something that was drowned out by the wind, and then he beckoned me towards a door. Given the shape of the craft, I wasn’t surprised to discover that it led to a kind of captains’ quarters.

Inside, the wind wasn’t quite so brutally loud and I could actually make out what my host was saying. He introduced himself as Captain Akash Majhi, aviator extraordinaire, and asked if I needed a lift. I said it might have been a bit late to ask since I was already on the balloon, which made him chuckle. I said that since he’d offered, I was headed to Hero’s Hollow, and he replied that that would be no problem. I noticed as we conversed that he only made eye contact when he was speaking—when I spoke, he instead watched my lips.

As Akash turned to pull a lever on the wall, I asked where he was from. He didn’t respond. With the lever pulled, a large strip of the ceiling rotated so that a piece of what had been the floor above—the piece to which the steering wheel was attached—became the ceiling of this room. Akash then tapped what seemed to just be a wooden accent covering a swath of the metal wall above the desk and bed. The wood slid to the side, revealing a bay window through which he could see.

He took his place at the wheel, positioning me in his field of view, so I asked again where he was from. He told me he was a proud resident of the Cloud Isles. I told him I’d never heard of such a place, and he said I really must be new to the area. Belatedly, I told him my name and that I had in fact only moved here a few weeks ago. He told me that the Cloud Isles were just that: islands in the clouds, with wildlife, ecosystems, and culture. At the center was a great city that, yes, was attached to the clouds, but had mostly been built flying between and amongst them by generations of architects, donors, engineers, artists, and aviators like himself. 

I asked him where the city was located and he vaguely waved his hands. “Here and there.” He said that as the clouds drifted so did the Isles, but that the city itself never strayed too far from Greenmoor—otherwise, mapping and resource-gathering from the ground below would be difficult or impossible.

I asked him how I might visit the Isles, and he told me I’d need to be able to fly. He said the general ethos of the residents leaned towards mechanical solutions, but he had heard that there were magical ways of flight as well. I said I would have to look into that. He handed me a business card with his name, “balloonist | engineer | aviator extraordinaire,” an address, and a smoke signal pattern to use to contact him. He said if I was ever in the city he’d be happy to show me around. Then, he announced that we’d arrived.

We went back onto the deck and he unfurled the ladder over the edge. I  went to hand him the oxygen mask back but he told me to keep it—they were expensive, but he had plenty and I’d be needing it when (and he did say “when”) I visited the city. I thanked him, shook his hand, and started descending the ladder.

 ────⊱⁜⊰──── 

I made it back to the ground (the hop down from the ladder was smaller than the hop up had been), and smoothed my hair down before setting off into the Hollow. I’d only barely made it into the skull when my plans for the afternoon abruptly shifted.

It was just around midday, so the guards must have been on break or between shifts. Hurrying out of the dungeon was a group I recognized—it was the Lows, the mining family. Angus was carrying the son in his arms. The boy was clutching his thigh, and even from a distance I could see blood seeping through his fingers.

Crystal spotted me and immediately called out to me, thanking the gods for my arrival. I hurried to them and guided them back to the cottage, where I knew I’d be able to better determine how to treat the issue. Morna would have to wait—I had a patient to tend to.

⇦●〇●⇨

[minccinoocappuccino]

Beyblade: Evolution Review

Finally got around to writing this review for the person who asked for it

I’m going to break this review into sections so I don’t forget anything.  

◉ Mechanics ◉ Graphics ◉ Gameplay ◉ story/Plot

⚠️ I’m not a game reviewer and these opinions are just that opinions ⚠️

Mechanics 

Ok so the big thing about this particular game is that you launch the beys through gyro and motion sensors using the Nintendo 3DS’s camera...or at least that’s how it’s supposed to be done. I’ve found all you really have to do is flick your 3DS towards or away from you and it counts as a launch. You do have to launch it at the right time however as you get spirit bursts that “ make your bey stronger for a short time”. If you do launch it off it really doesn't matter much you just start off with less spirit burst which I’ll explain later why it’s fine. There's really not much else to this gimmick though you only use it to launch beys and that's it so it's only about 2 secs of a beybattle despite being one of it’s biggest selling points.

Another mechanic is changing the bey parts to make your own, which is one of the best parts in the game. You can even try and recreate character beys or just come up with your own! They draw back to this though is if you want to win you really can’t use some of the beys at all. The game has the 4 types of beys in it Attack, Defense, Stamina, and Balance but it might as well just be Defense, and Stamina only. The Attack beys are so useless using them is an instant loss unless you get a lucky knock out really fast. They have no stamina at all so once you launch them they run out faster than the ps5 did, you have seconds to knock out the longer lasting beys with no help from your spirit bursts since you won’t have time to gain them. Balance beys suffer from the jack of all master of none curse, even if you build it with mostly stamina , you might as well instead make a full Stamina instead. Side note: Orion is one of the best beys to use its really OP though it’s only able to be bought late game Sagittarius is a good early game one to pick up. 

Now let's talk about spirit bursts, they suck. There's not really a gain to using them, yes your beyblade gets stronger by spinning fast but it goes so fast it usually misses the other bey and if they other hits you while your going so fast you have a higher chance of just flying out the ring. After 35 hours of playing this mechanic has helped me exactly zero times but has caused me to lose 7 times that I remember.

Graphics

There's not actually much to talk about with its graphics seeing as how it’s almost identically to other beyblade games. They did put a lot of effort into trying to make the beyblades look realistic, but there's only so much early 2000s graphics can do. The sprites look like they were drawn and then squished down to look pixelated; they still look good however, resembling the show's art while the pixelated effect gives it a more game feel. The text boxes however are really bad imo...There are solid blue boxes that go across the entire bottom of the screen with plain white letters over it for the dialogue. The worst part about them is the characters' names are in the same front, size, and colour of the dialogue so it all just blends together. 

The backgrounds are all neat and nice nothing to complain about….except the “special backgrounds”. These are for Battles and some Mini games and they're just real life pictures of parks or buildings. There so blurry and pixelated they look like they were taken from google earth. I know they wanted to give this game the feel of playing an actual bey battle in real life but starting at a clearly modeled and textured bey and area with real grass and buildings behind it is strange and out of place. This is just a nitpick since you really don't notice it much and again I know it’s early 2000s graphics so I can't complain much I still feel just putting in backgrounds from the show or just drawn ones would have looked better.

Gameplay

So the game is like a RNG where you go to different places on the map, meet characters from the show, battle them and enter tournaments and shop for parts. It’s very simple and easy to get the hang of and progress. You have 50 turns to do all this and become the champion™. On your 10th turn you enter tournaments to win beypoints to buy new parts. There are two stadiums for tournaments and you can go to each to do this, they have different rules so pay attention to this before entering. One you can use 3 beys and the other only one, if you can only afford one good bey you need to enter the one bey only one or else you will get crushed. On your turns you progress by going to random places on the map and meeting and talking to the characters to earn points, and their friendship. By befriending a character you get to unlock their mini game plus they will give you parts of their beys as gifts which is great if you befriend Kenta but Ginga might as well be giving you trash. Each talk/battle with a character takes up one turn and it takes a couple of times fighting and beating them to get to a high friendship level enough for them to fork over there bey. Since you only have 50 turns if you want a certain bey from a character focus on them only until you get it. Fully befriending a character will also unlock more characters that show up on the map as well.

You can buy beyparts at the two stores in game the B-pit and WBBA store with Madoka and Hikaru running them. The WBBA has better choices and higher ranking beyparts but the B-pit is cheaper so starting out with the B-pit is usually the best option and then switching over after earning good parts from characters. Going to the shop does use up a turn so buy what you need in one go.

The actual battling is boring and not fun at all. Like I said earlier they really wanted this game to give you the feel of real life beybattling so after you launch your bey you just sit there and watch it spin you can’t control it all so when you get knocked out or win it feels less like skill and more like luck. I get the skill is supposed to come from customizing the best bey but unless you're using the meta beys you kinda lose so you're forced to use beys you might not like to win there's really no room for innovation. The spirit burst was supposed to cover this by giving you a sense of doing something in the battle but it’s so useless most of the time it feels like you wasted it. It’s not even an auto thing you can’t just press the spirit button and your beys instantly get its power you have to aim it and hit your bey with it while its spinning and if you hit your opponent they get it or its just gone.

The minigames aren't a big thing in the game once you befriend a character you unlock his/hers game, which two characters can have the same one, to play and earn points from it. So far I’ve only played 5 different minigames: Balloon pop: you shoot a bey at balloons rising upwards different coloured balloons will give you different number of points the faster balloons give the most Track: you tilt your DS side to side to keep you bey on the track the faster you get to the end without falling off the more points you get Ring: You shoot your bey threw moving rings the more rings you shoot threw in a row the more points you get What part is it: parts of the bey will show up on screen and you have to guess if it's a Facebolt, Energy ring, Wheel, spin track, or tip. The more you guess right the faster they fly across your screen and the wheel and energy rings can look so close together since they are zooming so fast Guess: It gives you a Facebolt, Energy ring, Wheel, spin track, or tip and you have to guess what beyblade it's from.

Story/Plot

The game was marketed as the bridge between Fury and Shogun but there is nothing about it that does that. It’s clearly set after Fury but you don’t know when. It plays out with you battling character after character shopping and mini gaming in between and then on turn 50 battling in a tournament and hoping you win and become the champion. There’s no story to it other than that no underlying plot or an evil villain you need to stop. Just battling and becoming champ.  

Talking to the character is fun but you don’t get anything else, no new secrets or facts about them. Also after you become champion the game just starts you over. You start back at turn 0 and have to do it all again and unlock everything again. The game does let you keep 25% of your beypoints the first time you beat it and 100% of them the 4th time if I remember correctly.  

Overall: It’s a good game if you prefer talking to characters over battling and story. You can still have fun with the battling system since strange things can happen with beys getting shot out or just spinning out. And the wonky gyro system can cause you to shoot your bey right out the ring which makes for some laughs. It’s a very repetitive game which isn't a bad thing inself just depends on what you like. The Metal Masters game was way better with a decent storyline and fun battle mechanics which I’ll review at a later time, and this game just fails to compete with the other beyblade games.  Of course you are allowed to like the game. I enjoyed it a fair bit, and there are really good parts in it. I just think it has so much more room to be better.

Another notes: Some characters that are mentioned to be in the game I have not seen at all such as Nile, and Zero from Shogun. There is a battle area where you just battle for fun that's not a part of the story. I have only done it once though. You are allowed to have two save files on it.

If you want to see more of it you can look through my blog I have it tagged as I play beyblade  also again I do not have gameplay footage of it but if it’s something that is requested or wanted I don’t mind recording it