#and i haven’t found that yet. and it distresses me

[moontropy]

tags rambling

[fingertipsmp3]

Lads, I have once again fucked up

[crheativity]

Hello! Mind if I send in a request? How about some headcanons for the reader making cute little plushies for the overblot squad?

SUMMARY: You decide to make plushies for the overblot squad. How do they react?

WARNINGS: None that I am aware of!

COMMENTS: ANON I want you to know that this prompt randomly smacked me over the head at like 10 pm a couple nights ago and I have not been able to get it out since even though I haven’t been able to write until now. I hope you enjoy it!!

Part two - Prefect making the plushies clothes and accessories - can be found here. Part three - their reactions when the plushies are stolen - can be found here.

Riddle absolutely loves it, please don’t mistake his silence for displeasure. He thinks it is skilfully made and quite adorable, really! He’s just… a little concerned. Does making a plush toy of the Queen herself count as sacrilege…? He’s racking his brains for any rule or law that would prohibit this adorable little toy’s existence, yet none come to mind. Does that mean he gets to keep it…? He really hopes so.

After a few days of diligent research into the matter, he determines that keeping such a cute thing is not against the law, and is overjoyed to find that he gets to keep it. After some deliberation, he decides to leave it on his desk - out of view from Cater, who would almost certainly want to take some “cammable pics” for Magicam. This way, the toy can sit on his desk and remind him of his studies… and also of you. Almost every time he sits down, he finds his eyes wandering to it and can’t help but smile.

Heh, this is kinda cute. He doesn’t mind the plushy at first - it’s cute, but he finds the expression on your face as you give it to him much cuter. Of course he’ll keep it - it’s soft and squishy enough to be a pillow, so he’s eager to try it. Especially if it means skipping class.

As he attempts to fall asleep next to said plushy, however, he realises something - the plushy smells like you. He’s a beastman, with a heightened sense of smell. Even if the plushy doesn’t smell at all, it still smells of you. As a result of this realisation, the plushy now lives on his bed. He begins to find it frustrating to sleep without it, although he’d never be caught dead sleeping in the grounds with it. You’ll just have to replace it then instead.

(Ruggie has so many blackmail photos of Leona sleeping with the toy prepared just in case)

Prefect, this is magnificent! Imagine the money you could make off of these! Hm? What do you mean they aren’t for sale-? It’s just for him…? Oh. Give him a moment, his brain just crashed. He doesn’t quite know how to respond. He loves it, and he loves you even more, but that doesn’t mean his brain is capable of forming a response, especially when you give him a big smile. Give the poor guy a minute.

He leaves it on his bed. This man definitely cuddles it while he sleeps. He gets easily distressed when it isn’t there. After a rough day at work or school, he’ll talk quietly to the plush until he feels better. If worse comes to worst, he’ll hug the toy and cry as he needs to. He loves it so much. It’s almost a new friend to him - something he finds great comfort in.

(The Tweels are no longer allowed in his room. When they inevitably come in anyway, he swears them to secrecy.)

Is that the Sorcerer of the Sands… as a plushy? For him? Thank you, Prefect. Jamil doesn’t have a whole lot of plushies - he never particularly saw the point. But he’s absolutely charmed by this one — and by you. And the fact that it’s the Sorcerer of the Sands? You definitely knew him well. He’s smiling and shaking his head as he takes the plushy. You’re so cute, it’s so endearing.

At first, Jamil isn’t quite sure what to do with it. He can’t quite sleep if it’s on his bed - it reminds him of you too strongly - so he settles with leaving it on his desk. Occasionally, in his rare free time, he’ll sit at his desk and play with it, like a grown adult finding a lost but treasured toy again. It always reminds him of you. When life calls him back, he’ll set the plushy aside for now and get to work. It will be waiting for him.

Just like you, he hopes.

Prefect! He didn’t know you could sew. It looks amazing! It’s for him? You’re very sweet, he’s very in love. He loves the plush toy so much, no matter if it has any imperfections. It was made by you, of someone he looks up to, for him. He hates to sound like Rook, but to him, that makes it the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He’s so proud of you. Vil is taking that plush EVERYWHERE. It’s always in his bag no matter where he’s going. Anytime someone questions it, he shuts them down immediately. No one will dare slander something that his beloved made for him. In fact, he uses every opportunity to sneak the plush into photos for Magicam. Whether he’s holding it, it’s nearby or in the background, it’s always there. People start looking for it in all of his pictures.

If you’re okay with the plush being online, that is.

If you’d rather it stay private, he’d kiss your forehead or hand and tell you he understands. The plush toy then stays in his room, on his vanity table. Looking at it makes him feel like a teenage schoolgirl. He supposes it’s alright to indulge in such silliness occasionally, hm?

Wow, you made him a marketable plushy? Of one of the Great Seven? He wasn’t expecting you to have such a normie hobby. Oh, but that’s not a bad thing. He’s extremely grateful, but extremely awkward - does this mean he has to get you something now? What kinda thing would you like? Ah, wait, was that not the appropriate thing to say? Ortho’s giving him the “shut up and be polite” look.

Please don’t be offended if it seems like he doesn’t like it when he receives it. He actually really, really does. He decides to make it his new “gaming buddy”, making him a little custom headset and fake controller and sitting it next to him while he games. He’s stunned to silence when the lil guy’s presence improves his gacha rolls by, like, a LOT. He was already taking pretty good care of it, but now he’s being WAY more careful with it.

Occasionally, Ortho will catch him talking to it. Idia genuinely loves the plushy - and you - a lot. Even if Idia doesn’t quite know how to show it, Ortho does - by recording Idia’s conversations with the toy and showing them to you. Idia is mortified.

Oh? My child of man made me this… adorable plushy? My, how generous of you. He’s absolutely in love. If you thought he was attached to his tamagotchi, just wait and see. Malleus is NEVER letting the plushy leave his presence. Lilia had to take it away to clean it once and it stormed for a week. He loves it so much - and you so much more.

He absolutely treats the plushy as a human, and asks the others to do the same. Occasionally, he (or rather, Lilia using his phone to assist him) will send you a photo of him and the plushy doing something together, such as having a tea party or a picnic. Almost always with the caption, “Dear Prefect, would you care to join us? Kind regards, Malleus.”

♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥

[cheriecelestial]

Jacob Black's Self Saving System Pt.1

disclaimer *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ crack.swearing.not proofread

synopsis *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Jason, a self-proclaimed no. 1 Stephenie Meyer hater, finds himself unexpectedly transmigrated into the very novel he disdained. Following this ironic twist of fate, he is now tasked with the challenge of creating a better version of the story himself.

a/n *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Inspired from @duckysprouts ’s series. It’s so good ⁉️‼️. If you haven’t seen it already, PLEASE GO CHECK IT OUT. Like finally svsss content that isn’t shizun sphinx cats or binghe skin creature abomination. Art and concept so fresh it made my heart cry with joy and pulled me out of my three-month long writing slump. So, I humbly present this as an offering to our lord and savior, Ducky. Comment, Reblog and Like (∩˃o˂∩)♡

Twilight by Stephanie Meyer was a modern classic in its renaissance era with a large cult that loved to hate it. Set in a place with relentless rain, mist shrouded forest and an ethereal light piercing the gloom — the light being the one of only Edward Cullen. Though the statement is subject to fan bias — he was a man, rather sparkly vampire, who somehow managed to be both irresistible and perpetually constipated. 

Nonetheless, his charms never overshadowed the stellar performance of our female lead, Isabella Marie Swan— better known as Bella — a teenager who gained worldwide fame for having a personality less vibrant than a wet cabbage. Together, they navigated the perilous world of teenage angst, vampire baseball, millenia old racist italian politicians and werewolves with a curious t-shirt allergy, all in an impressively monotone palette.

It was a heartwarming tale that began with awkward stares, cryptic yet nauseatingly clichéd conversations and Bella’s inexplicable attraction to danger, making the romance as thrilling as it was perplexing. Meanwhile, the supporting cast of her high school friends, each with their own irrelevant quirks and subplots, served as convenient plot devices — appearing and disappearing at the whim of the author.

And as if her love life wasn’t tumultuous enough, Bella befriended Jacob Black. A werewolf who, unsurprisingly, hated all things vampire and Edward Cullen in particular. Between Edward’s brooding, Jacob’s abs and Bella’s classic damsel-in-distress antics that made poor Elena Gilbert seem unremarkable by comparison — the story unfolded with the subtlety of a glitter bomb and reached unprecedented heights of melodrama. Something that helped the tale become a global phenomenon, demonstrating that improbable love stories can indeed shine in their own sparkly “skin-of-a-killer” fashion.

“This has to be the worst piece of literature I’ve ever read in my life.” Those were strong words from a man who spent years and at least six hundred dollars collecting softbacks and hardbacks in every special and limited edition the series offered. Jason Black was an anti-fan who lived to scoff at the literary mediocrities of authors who, after taking one look at their drafts, believed they deserved to be released into the world as actual literature. Such people, often inspired by similar works, spawned their own deranged narratives, subsequently contaminating the sanctity of literature. 

In layman’s terms, Jason was a fervent hater of the highest order. He had a long list of things he despised about the series, yet curiously, re-watching the movies and re-reading the books always found its way to the top of his to-do list every other weekend. But do not get him wrong, not once did he say anything in favour of the series. Jason simply considered it one of those brain-rotting pieces that needed to be experienced to truly appreciate the beauty of classics like Emily Brontë and Jane Austen.

_username_1 : Bruh stfu. You’re probably an unemployed loner with nothing better to do in life than to be a keyboard warrior.  

_username_2 : then idk buddy don’t read it ? It’s not that hard. 

Jason huffed at the screen crossily, his fingers dancing over the keyboard unsure of what to type next. With a sigh, he stretched his arms as if preparing for battle. And a battle it was — being an anti-fan required more dedication, practice and patience than being a regular fan. What he didn’t realize was that he had knocked a water bottle off the table onto the frayed cord of his PC.

He couldn't fathom why people defended it as if their lives depended on it. If he ever met Stephenie Meyer, Jason would have a long talk with her about the plot—or rather, the lack thereof. With the number of plot holes in the books, they could qualify as swiss cheese. The inconsistencies were glaring: if sunlight made them sparkle, wouldn't they still sparkle during the day, just less brilliantly ? How did Jasper and Alice not overhear the phone call despite having super-hearing ? Why did Jasper go ballistic over a papercut when he attended a school where students would get paper cuts and scrapes all the time ? Why were vampires and werewolves the only species to exist ? And why was Bella, or more specifically her blood, so exceptional ? Did she perhaps descend from a line of flavourful blood havers or was it due to her mother's partial albinism ?

Was she special because she was the female lead, or was she the female lead because she was special ? There were so many unanswered questions and half-assed excuses for the events in the story that most explanations came from clever fans trying to make sense of things the author clearly put no effort into planning or thinking through. These questions had plagued him since he first read the series, and the lack of satisfying answers only fueled his irritation. So much so that Jason was embarrassed for the author. Regardless, he didn’t like the direction this conversation was going so he did what any intelligent person would do, i.e., spew hate comments and log off. 

edward_my_bbg : Dumbfuck novel, Dumbfuck author 

And as if on cue, a new notification popped up, dragging him back into the fray. It was another comment, this time mocking his apparent obsession with the series he claimed to hate. Jason’s face flushed with irritation as he furiously typed a retort, but before he could hit send, his screen flickered and went black. 

He looked down and realized the water bottle he had knocked over had short-circuited his PC. With a groan, Jason leaned back in his chair, staring at the dark screen. It seemed the universe had decided to give him a break from his self-imposed battle. His hand fumbled in the dark for the plug only to feel water on the surface. The sharp pain and crackle of electricity were the last things he knew before he plunged headfirst into endless darkness.

[Activation Code:「Dumbfuck Author, Dumbfuck Novel」 ]

[System activated] 

[Pairing command successful]

“What system ?” Jason asked out loud into the void even though he knew that it was most likely a figment of his imagination. He hadn’t expected to receive a reply however he did receive one much to his surprise. 

[Welcome to the system. During the opening of the 「you can you up」system currently in its development phase, we wish to provide you with the best experience. It is our sincere hope that during the process, you will achieve what you have stated: to transform a piece of stupid writing in accordance with your wishes into a high-end, expansive, and classic work. We wish you happiness.]

Jason blinked, trying to make sense of the message. He glanced around the dim room, half-expecting to see some kind of holographic interface or futuristic display but there was nothing. Just the voice in his head and the darkness. “What the hell is this ?” he muttered, feeling a mix of confusion and curiosity.

[You have been selected to participate in the beta phase of the 「you can you up」 system. Your task is to improve the story you despise, turning it into a masterpiece. All resources and guidance will be provided to you. Do you accept this challenge ?]

Jason hesitated, the situation seemed absurd, yet a part of him was intrigued. As he sat in silence, a thought occurred to him—what if he could actually fix all the plot holes that drove him up a wall ? Maybe this was his chance to prove he could do better. But then, the possibility of all of this being real seemed too slim. How did he get here ? What happened to him after the electric shock? Was he dying, or was he already dead ? "And if I don't accept ?" he asked, uncertainty and fear bleeding into his voice despite his attempt at maintaining his composure. The system responded quickly in the same mechanical tone as before.

[Your connection between your former body and soul was severed before the initiation of the program. If you choose not to accept, you will be returned to your previous reality with no changes made. This opportunity is unique and will not be offered again.]

“Severed from my body ? Wait— doesn’t that mean I’ll die if I don’t accept ?” Jason's question hung in the air, met with nothing but silence from the system. The lack of response only confirmed his fear.

The system's silence was deafening, seemingly pressing him to make a decision. Realizing he had little choice, Jason took a deep breath. “Fine, I accept,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. How bad could it possibly be ? 

[Command acknowledged. Initializing story rewrite mode.]

The void around him began to shift and wrap. Till now he felt as though he was floating with no sensation except the system’s sound. His reality dissolved into swirling colours and Jason felt himself being pulled into a vortex. When the chaos settled, he heard a man’s voice call out to him. Unlike the clinical tone of system, this voice felt comforting and personal. He could feel tender warmth run through him however he couldn’t quite figure out what the voice was saying. 

“Son ? Can you hear me ?” 

“Dad ?” Jason murmured involuntarily, his voice hoarse as if he had just woken up from a long sleep. The gravel in the voice reminded him of the joys of his childhood when his dad was still — wait a second. Who the hell is that ?

His eyes struggled to focus as his eyelids fluttered a few times. Eventually, he was able to make out his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the ceiling. Unlike the damp ceiling of his old apartment with its peeling plaster and harsh lighting, this one had old glow-in-the-dark moon and star stickers. It wasn’t familiar, but it seemed oddly comforting, like he had known it all his life. He slowly turned his head and saw a middle-aged man sitting on a wheelchair beside him with concern clouding his face. The man's russet complexion was lined with wrinkles yet his hair was long and lustrous.

“Where am I ?” 

“You’re at home. You’ve been asleep for so long, it’s alright if you’re confused. Take your time son.” The man he called ‘dad’ answered sincerely.

Jason’s mind raced as he tried to piece together what had happened. The familiarity of the room and the comforting presence of the man didn’t align with the reality he remembered. In that moment, everything came back to him—his death, the void, the system, everything. Jason went into what could only be described as psychological shock. His brain went on autopilot.

The man reached out to grab Jason’s hand, but Jason flinched and pulled away. Slivers of hurt flashed in the old man’s eyes as he slowly withdrew his hand. Jason hadn’t meant to react so harshly, but the information dump combined with the influx of sensory input, he was simply too overwhelmed to cope.

“I-I think i need some space. Do you mind ?” Jason spoke each word carefully, then added, “...dad,” feeling strangely guilty for hurting his feelings. The old man nodded slowly and wheeled himself out of the room. As soon as he was gone, Jason jumped out of bed and ran to the mirror. "Who the FUCK is this?"

Staring back at him was a boy, fifteen or sixteen, with the same russet skin as the old man and glossy black hair that looked like it belonged in a shampoo commercial. Recognizing the features, Jason knew this could only be one person.

 [System activation successful ! Binding your role as : Jacob Black]

[System : Booting Up]

Jason, now Jacob Black, stared at his reflection in disbelief. The reality of his situation hit him like a shit ton of bricks. He brought his fist to his mouth and sobbed into it, and here he thought college was devastating. “But I’m Team Edward,” he choked out between sobs. “That’s so fucked up.”

[Thank you for initiating the execution of the system. You are not bound with the account ‘Jacob Black’. All resources and guidance will be provided to you in due time. Initial B points : 100]

Jason—Jacob—felt a rush of confusion and frustration. “Now what the hell are B points ?!” he yelled, his voice reverberating off the walls of the unfamiliar room. The loudness of his own voice startled him, making him realize just how different everything felt in this new body.

[As the plot progresses, a number of opportunities to gain more points will be available. Please make sure your B points are not lower than 0. Otherwise, the system will automatically impose penalties.]

He stumbled back from the mirror, running a hand through his hair, which was definitely longer and thicker than he remembered. He could feel the strength in his limbs, the vitality of youth coursing through him. Yet, despite the physical vigor, his mind was in turmoil. He had transmigrated into the very novel he hated; the universe always seemed to have a field day when it came to ruining his life. Jacob looked around the room that was littered with the relics of a life he had to now live — a cozy bed with rumpled sheets, a desk cluttered with schoolbooks and posters of motorcycles, bands and scenic landscapes on the walls.

“Um, so is Bella here ?” Jacob asked, scarfing down the bacon his dad made for him. Despite stressing over the role he was supposed to play in the story, he quickly adapted to his new life. He had a family, a house to live in, no worries about finding employment, no bills or taxes, a social life—or at least he assumed he had one—and, most importantly, no backaches. In hindsight, this might not be all that bad.

“Oh, you remember that ? Charlie said she’s arriving in a couple of days,” his dad, Billy, replied. Jacob felt a strange mix of anticipation and relief. Unlike most unfortunate transmigratees, he had no death flags to worry about, so he could sit back and watch Bella and Edward fall in love without “Jacob” interrupting them. Maybe he could even make things easier for Bella by acting like the perfect wingman. Who cared about making a better story anyway ? And once he had seen his OTP together, he could take his ticket out of town after the wedding and never return so that he could avoid the whole Renesmee business because some fates are worse than death.

[WARNING: Your plan is extremely dangerous and constitutes a violation. Please do not attempt it, or the system will impose strict penalties.]

Jacob choked on his water as the sudden warning window popped up in front of him. For a moment, he was so immersed in the domestic comfort of his new life that he almost forgot about the cursed system. His father looked at him with concern.

“Water went down the wrong pipe, that’s all. Nothing to worry about,” Jacob said awkwardly, trying to reassure his father. So you can read minds now ? He internally taunted the system.

[It is a feature designed to ensure maximum support for the user.]

“That’s bullshit. Also, what do you mean by violation ?” Jacob asked. Does this system really have no respect for privacy ? If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was some kind of Zuckerberg’s meta gimmick.

[You are currently at the beginning stage. OOC function freeze is activated. You must complete the beginning stage before any functions can be unlocked. If you perform any actions against the original ‘Jacob Black’ role before the functions are unfrozen, a certain number of B points will be deducted.]

Given his extensive time spent on the internet, Jacob was well aware of what OOC meant, and he knew it wasn’t a good sign. OOC stood for Out Of Character, referring to actions taken by a role that deviated from how the character was originally written.

“FUCK OFF. I’m an adult. I already finished my degree and Bella is like, a baby. And you can forget the whole Renesmee shit too. Bella belongs with Edward and and I have no intention of pursuing either her or her future daughter. So back off, you creep of a system.”

[WARNING: The system is issuing another alert. If your B points fall below 0, you will incur a penalty, which involves being automatically transported back to your original world.]

“You know, threatening me with death is really getting old,” Jacob stared at the warning message with his anger mounting. It felt like the system was encroaching on every aspect of his new life, imposing rules and restrictions without offering any clarity or real support.

He took a deep breath, trying to push past his irritation. There was no point in arguing with an automated system, especially one that clearly had its own agenda. Jacob decided to focus on what he could control. He needed to immerse himself in his role as Jacob Black and complete the introductory stage without attracting undue attention. The system’s warnings might be annoying, but he couldn’t let them derail his efforts to adapt to his new life.

As he finished his breakfast, Jacob glanced around the house. It was warm and welcoming, albeit a little messy, which was understandable. He and his dad were the only ones living there and according to his dad, he had been inexplicably unconscious for almost a week. Keeping the house tidy wasn't exactly a priority for a man worried sick about his son.

“Thanks for breakfast… Dad,” Jacob said, still not used to the idea of having a father again. There was the whole issue of stealing the real “Jacob” ’s life, dealing with imposter syndrome, and the guilt of replacing the memory of his own father by calling this old man his dad. But that was an existential crisis he chose not to mull over at the moment, especially on the precipice of the story's start. Call him selfish, but he preferred to focus on his blessings.

“I’ll go take a walk. I’ve been asleep for a while, so I need to… uh, stretch my legs,” Jacob said awkwardly, hoping Billy wouldn’t notice anything strange about his behavior.

“Sure thing, son. Also grab some red meat from the store for dinner. A growing kid like you needs that protein. And buy yourself something nice with the leftover money,” Billy replied, taking out his wallet and handing him some cash.

Jacob stared at the man in awe. As a kid who had bounced around the foster system after his dad died, he was used to being scorned and neglected. This might be part of the reason why he had become a social recluse, spending his time bashing bad literature and authors online. To him, Billy Black was the closest thing he had ever seen to an angel.

Jacob took the money, still feeling a bit dazed. “Thanks, Dad,” he managed to say, pocketing the cash. The air filling his lungs was much fresher than the pollution-riddled air of the city he used to live in. Nature seemed a lot nicer than he remembered. So, here's a lesson for the kids—don’t wait until you die and get transmigrated into a novel you hate to understand the importance of getting outside and appreciating nature. In short, go touch some fucking grass before it’s too late.

Almost as if by instinct he found himself at La Push beach. He wandered through the familiar yet new surroundings, trying to piece together his plan. If he was going to be stuck in this world, he might as well make the best of it. He thought about the story and mentally reviewed his plan. He would stay under the radar, be friendly but unobtrusive and focus on blending in with the locals. If he played his cards right, he might just manage to navigate this strange new life without getting points deducted by the system’s restrictions.

After strolling along the shore for a while, Jacob found a rock to sit on and watch the ocean. It was a stark contrast to the urban jungle he was accustomed to, this place was serene and almost idyllic.

“Ayo, is that Jacob ? Hey, Jake !” he heard someone call out. A moment later, a boy close to his age ran up to him, followed by one more. “Um, hey guys. How’s it... going ?” Socializing wasn’t one of Jacob’s strong suits; in fact, it was the exact opposite of the skill he had meticulously avoided developing over the years.

“Man, the whole crew was freaking out about you. You were out cold for a week and for no reason !” One thing Jacob appreciated about the system was the introduction tags above each character’s head. The boy speaking was named Quil, his cousin from the Quileute tribe. He knew these interactions were unavoidable, given their significance to his new role in the plot.

“Well, I got better ?” Jacob attempted a witty quip but cringed at how poorly it landed. To his surprise, the two boys just laughed. “I’m just glad you’re okay. Stop by Sam’s sometime; he’s been asking about you,” Embry said, giving Jacob a friendly slap on the shoulder.

“Wait Sam ? Right of course. Duh. Sam’s place. Got it.” Jacob replied, blinking in confusion for a moment. Sam Uley was the Alpha—or at least the to-be Alpha—of the pack Jacob was supposed to join during New Moon.

[Mild OOC warning]

“Ay man, you feeling okay ?” Embry asked again, noticing Jacob’s hesitation. Jacob froze, Embry Call was the real Jacob’s best friend and if he figured out that Jason wasn’t really Jacob, it would spell massive trouble for him.

Jacob forced a smile. “Uh, yeah. I just—” He quickly tried to think of something. What would Jacob Black say in this situation ? What does he do to feel better ? He racked his brain for answers, knowing he needed to play the part convincingly, at least till he found a way to unfreeze the OOC function.

Go bother Bella ? a small voice suggested. Bella’s not here yet dumbass, another voice countered sharply. After years of social isolation, Jason’s inner dialogue had evolved to the point where he could have entire discussions with himself. No, he wasn’t schizophrenic.

“—I was just going to grab some red meat to chow on and uh y’know, work on my bike,” he finished, hoping his voice didn’t betray his nerves.

Embry and Quil exchanged a knowing look, which made Jacob's anxiety spike only to burst into laughter. “Classic Jake. At this rate, you might end up marrying your bike,” Quil teased and Jacob laughed along, though he desperately wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out again.

“Just take it easy, yeah ? We don’t want you passing out on us again. By the way, there's a sale at the store on the other side of town,” Embry squeezed Jacob’s shoulder reassuringly again. The familiarity they seemed to share with him was comforting, even if he felt like an imposter. He knew he had to get up to speed quickly if he wanted to maintain this facade. They soon parted ways and Jacob headed towards the store.

The store lady was overly enthusiastic upon seeing Jacob. He couldn’t tell if it was because of his face or the fact that he was a regular. As Jason, he had always been below average in looks and physique. Whereas, by the virtue of being the second male lead of a popular teenage romance novel, Jacob Black was undeniably attractive. With his deep-set dark eyes, prominent cheekbones, and beautiful long hair, he looked like someone Jason would have envied. Maybe he could try his hand at modeling once the story ended, because there was no way he was putting himself through college again.

And as unpredictable as the weather of Forks was, it began to rain. Normally, Jason would wait it out and then go but now that he as in Jacob’s body, he thought to test his body’s limits. Like c’mon a little drizzle isn’t going to hurt a big strong werewolf alpha-to-be. He stepped out into the rain, feeling the cool droplets on his skin. It was refreshing, almost invigorating. Jacob’s body seemed to handle the cold and wet far better than Jason’s ever did. As he made his way back the store, he noticed people giving him friendly nods and waves. It felt strange to be acknowledged so warmly, a stark contrast to the anonymity he was used to.

At the red light he stopped, waiting for it to turn green. Sure, there were no cars around and he could have just walked, but road rules were no joke. He liked this life too much to risk having it taken away by truck-kun. “Hey system, is double isekai a thing?” he asked. The system didn’t reply, so that was probably a no.

Jacob glanced to his side and saw a person standing under a large black umbrella. A strong sweet scent pricked his nose. How strong does this guy’s cologne have to be to reach me even with the rain ? There was a name tag hovering above the person’s head, but it was obscured by the umbrella, as was his face. One thing he had learned was that only people relevant to the story had name tags over their heads, which meant this person was a character in the story. He looked down at the stranger’s hand—it looked like porcelain.

Jacob felt a sense of foreboding, creeping up his veins. His instincts were on high alert, telling him that this stranger was no ordinary person. The rain began to pour harder, each drop bouncing off the asphalt with increasing intensity.

The person probably noticed Jacob staring and as he did, the umbrella tilted slightly, revealing a glimpse of a pale, almost ethereal face with piercing golden eyes. The moment their gazes met, Jacob was momentarily blinded by a brilliant golden aura radiating from the name tag above the person’s head.

[Edward Cullen]

Jacob’s heart skipped a beat. Of course, it had to be Edward. What were the odds of encountering your favorite character on the very first day of your new life ? He felt his knees weaken. Despite the dim lighting and gloomy setting, Edward was undeniably striking. The rain seemed to fall more slowly around him, as if even the weather was reluctant to mar his flawlessness . His tousled bronze hair framed his face perfectly and Jacob felt an inexplicable urge to reach out and touch it. Despite all his criticisms of the novel, Edward had always held a special place in his heart for reasons Jacob couldn’t quite explain.

Damn, this mf looks anemic as hell. Maybe I should feed him. It was a half-serious thought, borne from both concern and his internal struggle to reconcile his feelings towards the character with the reality of his situation.

[OOC WARNING! OOC WARNING!]

[Edward Cullen is your enemy.]

“Fuck off, he’s my babygirl,”Jacob shot a mental retort at the system in exasperation and a streak of protectiveness. The system’s declaration that Edward was an enemy wasn’t misplaced given Jacob’s role in the novel but that didn’t mean it wasn’t at odds with his feelings.

Edward had always been his favorite character, a source of fascination and admiration. This was supposed to be his chance to explore and perhaps even improve upon the narrative, not to be embroiled in conflict with a character he held dear.

Jacob didn't even notice when the light turned green and Edward started walking away, his steps soundless on the wet pavement. Acting on impulse or perhaps some hidden desire, Jacob found himself walking towards Edward and grabbing his elbow, accidentally knocking his umbrella aside. Edward stopped and turned to him as the rain continued to soak them both. His gaze was like a sharp, unyielding beam of light, cutting through the rain. His eyes, an unusual shade of golden amber, held a depth that seemed to pierce directly into Jacob's soul, scrutinizing every hidden corner of his being.

[OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC!]

[EDWARD CULLEN IS YOUR ENEMY]

I’m so stupid — I forgot completely. Jacob and Edward haven’t met yet. Maybe… maybe I can salvage this ? Be a dick and still be nice ? He definitely didn’t want to end up on Edward’s bad side, nor did he want to break the system’s rules. Annoying as it was, the system was what kept him alive. Though he’d never say it out loud, he was terrified at the thought of dying, again. The system’s constant reminders of their supposed enmity were starting to grate on him, but he couldn’t afford to make more mistakes. What was a man to do when every choice seemed fraught with peril ?

Ack — he’s staring. Can he hear my thoughts ? I hope not. He and Bella meet soon, if I remember correctly so— Jacob’s anxiety skyrocketed under the weight of that gaze. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat drumming in his ears. A tight knot of dread twisted in his stomach and whether it was the rain or not, he could feel cold sweat forming on his palms. He needed to say something—anything—that wouldn’t completely derail the plot but also wouldn’t make Edward hate him from the start, even if it was inevitable.

“Oh uh — my bad, dude. I just thought you looked kinda sick so I thought — I mean,” Jacob scrambled for an explanation, forcing a nonchalant tone as he released Edward’s elbow. He felt like a small animal trapped in the headlights of an oncoming car, desperately searching for a way to escape unscathed.

“—Uh, here.” He shoved the raw steak he had just bought into Edward’s arms. The system fell silent for a moment, as stunned by his actions as Jacob was. The sound of the rain was almost deafening as awkward silence stretched between them. Edward looked down at the raw steak in his hands, confusion and surprise painting his features.

Without waiting for a reply, Jacob quickly turned on his heel and hurried away, his footsteps splashing through the rain-soaked pavement. “Later ! Get that iron up and be the lady killer you were born to be !” he called over his shoulder. After walking a few metres, he paused briefly and added,“ And seriously lay off the sauvage man !”

As he put more distance between them, Jacob’s thoughts began to spiral. What had he just done ? Did Edward think he was completely nuts ? Or worse, could Edward have read his thoughts and seen through his facade ? Jacob shuddered at the possibility.

[Why did you do that ?]

“I don’t know okay !? I thought it’d help with looking y’know less dead when he meets Bella.” He shrugged. Explaining himself to the system felt pointless considering it was neither his parent nor his babysitter. The system remained silent, as if considering his response, Jacob rolled his eyes.

[OOC ! -20 B points ↓ ↓ ↓]

“Oh come on !”

“Still staring at that bag of steak, Ed ?” The pixie-haired woman leaned over her brother’s shoulder, teasing him.

“Go away, Alice,” Edward muttered, his gaze still locked on the steak as if it held some profound answers of the universe. His fingers occasionally running over the plastic, making the blood inside to squelch against the surface.

“Seriously what’s up with you ?” Alice frowned, dropping the banter. Ever since Edward had returned, he’d been fixated on this bag of steak that suspiciously smelled like wet dog. What was even more peculiar was the fact that she hadn’t had any visions of this event. Normally, Alice caught glimpses of all the interesting things happening with her family throughout the day but she had no clue how Edward had ended up with that steak. And from the look on his face, Edward didn’t look like he was divulging anything either.

“Nothing just… trying to figure someone out.” Edward sighed. Alice was his favorite family member, and he seldom told her off but this was something he couldn’t even make sense of himself. If he told Alice, she’d likely blow the whole thing out of proportion. But despite everything, one question kept lingering in his mind.

Who was that man ?

A.n - should I make this into a series ? If yes please lemme know if you want to be added to the taglist.

[leejenowrld]

hello!! how would jeno react if you started tearing up (and trying to hide it but then eventually crying) during sex because there was something he did that you werent comfortable with (but its not his fault because this wasnt spoken about before) ?

i haven’t written jeno in sooo long i hope i still have it in me lmao

As Jeno positioned you, his strong hands gripping your hips with commanding assurance, a surge of anticipation washed over you. He entered you with a deep, assertive thrust, each movement deliberate and intense, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. His rhythm was unyielding, each deep penetration stretching you completely, challenging your limits both physically and emotionally.

His grip on your throat was tight, fingers pressing just enough to heighten the rush, while his other hand tugged sharply at your hair. This action, combined with the unexpected coolness of spit on your heated skin, layered the moment with complex, intense sensations.

With every thrust, the room seemed to pulse, magnifying each sensation. The sound of his body meeting yours echoed, a vivid reminder of Jeno’s intense desire. Tonight, the usual exhilaration of his pace was tipping into something more overwhelming, sweeping you up faster than you could anchor your thoughts.

Trying to match his rhythm, you found the intensity disorienting. It was consuming, it was all too much and made you feel overwhelmed. The pleasure was intense and undeniable, yet it mingled with a growing sense of apprehension about the relentless intensity of his movements.

Each stroke pushed your boundaries, blending exhilaration with unease. The deep pleasure intertwined with sharp intensity began to overwhelm your senses, making it challenging to keep pace and leaving you adrift in overwhelming sensations.

Jeno’s voice, tinged with concern, pierced the fog of intensity that had enveloped you. Sensing your discomfort, he slowed his movements, his touch becoming more gentle, more protective. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft yet filled with worry.

Unable to articulate your feelings, you nestled closer into him, seeking refuge in the crook of his neck, breathing heavily, overwhelmed by the sensations and your own reactions. His arm wrapped securely around you as he sensed your body trembling slightly against his.

“What’s wrong, baby? Talk to me,” Jeno coaxed tenderly, his hands cradling your face. His thumbs delicately brushed away the tears that had unknowingly started to streak down your cheeks. The intimacy of his gaze, filled with worry and love, felt as deep as his earlier thrusts.

“I—it’s just too much tonight, Jeno. I just—” your voice cracked, a sob breaking through the veneer of composure you were desperately clinging to.

His heart tightened at your words, a pang of regret washing over him for not having noticed your distress sooner. He drew you in closer, enveloping you in the warmth of his embrace as he gently eased you both down onto the bed. “Shh, I’m here, I’ve got you,” he murmured, his lips pressing a constellation of soft, reassuring kisses on your forehead. “I’m so sorry, love. I should have been more attentive.”

Carefully, he withdrew, his movements slow and considerate, ensuring your comfort as he sensed another wave of your tears. Swiftly, he wrapped you in a blanket, his arms remaining a comforting fortress around you.

“I got you,” Jeno reassured you, his voice low and steady, his hand moving soothingly over your back. The room was filled only with the soft sounds of the blanket rustling as he rocked you gently and the quiet, harmonious rhythm of your breaths mingling. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against yours in a series of soft, comforting kisses that punctuated his whispers of reassurance. With each nod and smile, he offered silent affirmations, his breath warm against your lips, reinforcing a sense of peace and security enveloping you both.

After your breathing steadied and the sobs subsided into soft sniffles, Jeno tenderly lifted you into his arms and carried you to the bathroom. The room was warmed by the shower’s steam, enveloping you both in a comforting mist. He undressed you with careful, loving motions, each touch a silent apology, each kiss a vow of his enduring care as he gently washed away the turmoil of the night.

Once back in the bedroom, Jeno dressed you in soft pajamas, his hands moving over your skin with a tenderness that soothed both body and soul. He whispered soft apologies and loving affirmations, his lips gracing every inch of your skin he could reach, reinforcing how deeply he cherished you, how precious you were to him.

As he settled beside you in the bed, his presence was a steady, comforting weight. He continued to whisper sweet nothings, each word woven with love and care, designed to mend and strengthen the trust and deep affection that defined your relationship. His voice, a soothing balm, promised not just rest but a renewal of the intimate bond you shared, reaffirming his commitment to your well-being above all else.

[wands-natsthing]

𝐈𝐟 𝐈’𝐦 𝐒𝐨 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

Hii I haven’t written anything in months so hopefully this isn’t like bad 

Plsss like and comment if ya wanna I love reading them and it's so motivating

And feedback is more than welcomed. 

Warings: This is like previous high school student x teachers kinda sorta reader was 18 when that was happening tho no smut yet but will be implied in the future. Panic attacks, Axe’s body spray. That’s all i think but if you recognize anymore lemme know pls!! 

Word count: 1.5k 

Summary: You're in love with your high school English teacher Wanda but at graduation she’s like I love you too but we can’t so then five years pass and you see her at a cafe with another red headed woman.

They say high school is a time of self-discovery, forming relationships that could last a lifetime, and navigating the endless possibilities of first experiences. For you, high school was wrapped up in the lunches you shared with Mrs.Wanda Maximoff, your 

12th-grade English teacher.

The unusual friendship started with a shared love for classic literature and a mutual understanding of feeling out of place. Mrs. Maximoff had a way of making Shakespeare's complicated content relatable and understandable by intertwining them with life lessons that resonated with you. 

She was different from other teachers. She was patient, helped you with your homework when you couldn't understand the difference between dependent and independent clauses, listened more than she spoke. When she did speak, her words were thoughtful and impactful, often leaving you to think long and hard after class had ended.

Your lunch sessions together started by accident, really. 

On a particularly busy day, when the crowded hallways were more overwhelming than usual, your anxiety was on the brink of turning into a full-blown panic attack. You found refuge in her classroom. Mrs. Maximoff was there, her eyes scanning over a copy of Donna Tartt's "The Secret History." She looked up, saw your distressed state, and, without a word, brought you into her embrace. 

The smell of her expensive perfume didn't burn your nose like the smell of Bath and Body Works, Axe cologne, and body odor in the hallways usually did. 

She calms you down using the softest voice you've ever heard. 

"You're doing so well, darling. Now tell me, what are three things you can smell?" 

"Your perfume,"  you answered. The strong feminine scent overwhelmed your senses in the best way possible. 

"Oh yeah, it does smell pretty good, doesn't it? You're doing so well for me, sweet girl." 

When you were finally calm, she shared her lunch with you. While eating, we talked about everything but schoolwork, music, movies, and favorite books and authors. It was the first time you truly felt seen and heard. 

These lunches became a part of your routine. Every day, you'd sit in her classroom during lunch hour, the chaos of the school melting away as we engage ourselves in conversation about anything and everything. 

There was a silent agreement to keep these lunches between us, our little secret.  

However, as weeks turned into months, your feelings toward Mrs. Maximoff began to change. It was initially subtle, a flutter of the heart when she smiled, a longing to be near her more than our lunches and class time allowed. 

When you realized these feelings you panicked. You knew that they were wrong but just couldn't help yourself. The tabooness of a student having romantic feelings for their teacher was probably the most exciting part about it. 

You fought with your conscience on a daily basis, constantly reminding yourself of the boundaries that should not be crossed, the rules that you both would be breaking, and how she could lose her job. But your heart didn't care. You wanted her, and you were determined to figure out if she wanted you as well. 

As spring transitioned into summer, your feelings continued to grow. Graduation was approaching, and you had made up your mind to express the feelings you had for Mrs. Maximoff on that day.

Graduation day was filled with excitement as students threw their graduation caps and rushed to their loved ones with their diplomas, but you were only interested in finding Mrs. Maximoff. You spotted her talking with someone's parents among the crowd of excited students. You began making your way toward her. The closer you got to her, the more your eyes met. She stopped talking to the parents and turned all her attention to you. Mrs. Maximoff reached out her hands to hold yours while whispering in your ear, 

"I'm so proud of you."  

"Thank you, Wanda," you uttered softly, the sound of her name sweet on your lips. 

When you look back at her face, you see her nose scrunch up the way it always does when she's blushing.With your heart beating out of your chest, you thought now would be as good a time as ever to proclaim your love to her. 

"Hey, Wanda, I need to tell you something," she can tell in your tone of voice that it's serious."

"Whatever it is, you can tell me," she reassures you with a concerned look in her eyes.

"This year has been amazing, the best year in school I've ever had, and I have you to thank for it. I think about that day when you saved me from the hallways all the time, and it was the best day of my life because I met you. As I got to know you, you became more than my 12th-grade English teacher, more than Mrs. Maximoff. I got to know Wanda, and it has been my biggest joy. I guess what I'm trying to say is. I love you, Wanda Maximoff." 

You finish your declaration with tears in your eyes, but Wanda's devastating look turns tears of joy and relief into tears of sadness.

"I love you too," she whispered back, her voice carrying a mixture of sorrow, excitement, and apprehension. "But you're about to start a new chapter of your life. College is not just about studying; it's also about experiencing new things, and I don't want to be the thing holding you back from doing that. I'm ten years older than you. I've had my fun, and now it's time for you to have yours, but please know that I enjoyed our time together just as much, if not more, than you did. Maybe if the circumstances were different, then we could have made this work, but we're just in different places in our lives right now."

Your heart sank. 

Though you knew she was right, you didn't want to hear that. The logical part of you agreed with her, but your heart didn't care. You longed to be with her.

"Okay, um, thank you. Bye," you mumbled tearfully while walking away. You could hear her call out for you, but you didn't have it in you to turn back. Embarrassed and  heartbroken, you left the graduation stadium, ready to experience all the "new things." She said you would hopefully find it. 

That was five years ago. 

Now, at your college graduation with a Master's in library science. All the memories from high school just came flooding back into your mind. You never stopped thinking about Wanda after that day. Every time you would sit by yourself in the campus cafe, you would often think about all the lunches the two of you shared together. 

You had received an offer to work in your high school's library after college, which made you ecstatic. You've always loved your high school's library. It's the best one you've ever visited. 

However, you're concerned about whether Wanda still works there. In the past five years, you haven't tried to look for or talk to her at all. 

You rented an apartment that would be closer to the school when it started in August. You decided to stop at the coffee shop where you would get your hot pumpkin spice latte, even in the summer months. You remembered when you would occasionally bring Wanda one as well. 

When you walked in you heard the familiar bell that would ring anytime someone walked in or out. After you order your drink you settle at a table near the window loving the view it offers. As you take in the scenery you hear a familiar laugh. That couldn't possibly be- You thought as you turned around. 

Your eyes met a sight that took your breath away. 

There was Wanda looking as gorgeous as ever just like she was five years ago. Her hair color hadn't changed; it was the auburn color of red you adored, even her laughter that was echoing throughout the cafe was the same. Across from her sat another redheaded woman, their fingers laced together, sharing a moment of what looked to be pure love and happiness. 

The sight filled you with mixed emotions. You were happy that she was happy, but you couldn't help but feel envy bubbling up inside you. That should be me. 

As you stood up to leave not even caring about how sweet the pumpkin spice flavor on your tongue would be. You hear her laughter subsided. Wanda's gaze wandered and locked with yours. For a brief moment, time stood still, and memories rushed back. 

A smile, warm and understanding, on her lips as she gave a small wave. You go to wave back, but you're paralyzed. Unable to move or breathe. The only thing that brings you back is the sound of your name being called. “Y/n…Pumpkin spice latte hot?" The barista called out. 

"Y- yes, that's me." You replied quickly, grabbing your coffee and practically running out of there. 

You couldn't believe you just saw her again and in the midst of self-patronizing for not waving back and standing there like a deer in headlights. You had one thought. 

Who is that woman? 

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

Lemme know what you think!! and if you want more

[forever-rogue]

Hi bb 💕 the premiere of TLOU was so damn good and I’m so excited for the rest of the season! If you’re still writing for Joel and taking requests could we maybe have some domestic fluff with pre-outbreak Joel? Hopefully that’s enough to go off of! ☺️☺️💗

AN | I couldn’t help myself, dinner is served, bone app the teeth. It’s just fluff with a lil foreshadowing! Enjoy ❤️

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was an early fall day that found you walking over to the Adler’s house and knocking on the door only to be greeted excitedly by Mercy’s barking. As soon as the door was open, the fluffy dog pushed his way past the screen door and over to you, weaving around your legs, tail wagging wildly as you reached down to pet him. 

“Sorry about him, sweetheart,” Mrs. Adler looked at the dog with a raised eyebrow, “he just loves people, but you know that by now.”

“Good thing I love him too. Huh buddy, you’re such a good boy,” you bent down and scratched his ears before kissing his snout, “is Sarah here? I just got to their house and wanted to see if she wanted to come home and help me with some baking.”

“She is,” the screen door opened and you stepped inside, immediately overwhelmed by the smell of cooking and that odor that older homes often had. You spotted the young girl at the kitchen table, but as soon as she heard you, she turned around with a huge smile, “do you girls want to stay for dinner?”

“No,” you and Sarah chorused before looking at each other sheepishly. You gave her a wink before clearing your throat.

“Thank you for the offer,” you smiled sweetly, “Joel’s going to be home soon and we’d promised him some cookies so…we’d better get to baking!”

“Of course,” she seemed unphased by your lame excuse, which to be fair wasn’t a total lie, “well, you know you’re both welcome any time. And Joel.”

“Thank you,” you grabbed Sarah’s backpack as soon as it was packed up and herded the young girl towards the door, “have a good evening.”

As soon as the two of you were outside, after having given Mercy a few more pets, you exchanged a look before both breaking into a fit of giggles.

“You came just in time,” Sarah sighed dramatically, “she was just about to start knitting and insisted on showing me how to knit today.”

“I knew I was getting some distressed vibes for a reason,” you gently nudged her side with your elbow, “don’t worry kiddo, I’ll always be there to save you. Especially from old ladies and their knitting. I can’t imagine a worse fate.”

“Seriously,” she unlocked the door and the two of you stepped into the Millers’ quiet house. You liked it here, it felt so homey and lived in, filled with lots of laughs and love. You cringed when you realized how cheesy that sounded, even in your head, but it was true. In the almost two years you’d been with Joel, it had all but become your home too, “did you mean it when you said we’re doing some baking?”

“Sarah, my sweet Sarah,” you kicked off your shoes as you made your way into the kitchen, laughing internally at the half consumed glass of orange juice and cup of coffee from this morning. They had been running late…again. How very on brand for both of them, “would I ever lie to you?”

“You haven’t yet,” she grinned as you nodded. 

“And I expected you to always be truthful with me,” you put the dirty dishes into the sink, “did you get all your homework finished?”

“Yup,” she grinned, “finished it with enough time to even sell some hardcore drugs.”

“I’m impressed,” you snorted in amusement, “you managed to get to Mrs. Adler’s, do your homework, sell some drugs, and make it back before anyone noticed you were gone. That is some skill.”

“Totally,” she laughed as you high fived each other. Truth be told, she’d hadn’t been sure about you when Joel first introduced the two of you. And you couldn’t blame her; she was fiercely protective over her father. It had been just the two of them for basically her entire life - her mother, Joel’s wife, had left the two of them when she was only a few months old. She didn’t even remember her own mother. And the idea that a stranger was going to come and change everything? It was terrifying. 

But you never pushed or forced yourself into her business, and let her warm up to you. You wondered at first if it had anything to do with the fact that you were a bit younger than Joel, but quickly learned it was all just because she loved him so much. And he loved her just as much and then some. But over time, she’d come to love you too and you loved her. 

These days it was Sarah pushing Joel to just finally have you officially move in. Again, that one was on Joel. You weren’t going to push him either. This was just as new for him; you were the only person he’d dated since his wife. But you loved the Millers and you knew that your future held both of them in it. That was all that mattered.

“How about some chocolate chip cookies?” you suggested and her face eagerly lit up as she nodded, “okay but, tell me how much your dad would hate it, if we tried to make pumpkin chocolate chip cookies.”

“He’d love them, but he’d never admit it,” she said and you knew she was right, “how about we make both?”

“A grand plan,” you smiled, “throw on a record and let’s get started. Maybe we can have everything ready before he’s home.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Something smells good,” neither of you had heard Joel come in, but when you turned around you found him leaning against the doorway, a lazy smile on his face. You shook your head in amusement as Sarah ran over to him and hugged, “hey baby girl.”

“You’re home early for once,” she grinned at him, and he playfully rolled his eyes, “that’s what you should be doing, as a man of such advanced age.”

“Thirty-five isn’t advanced, it’s-”

“Ancient,” you finished for him, smiling sweetly as he jokingly flipped you off, “we only tease out of love.”

“Some kind of love,” he huffed, affectionately touching Sarah’s cheek, “go on and set the dining table, okay?”

“Sure,” she smirked, looking between the two of you with a knowing little smile, “you just want to make out. I’m not a child, I know these things!”

“Table,” he groaned, taking her by the shoulders and gently ushered her out of the kitchen. She ran off, giggling under her breath, “and you are a kid!”

“Whatever!”

He turned his attention onto where you were leaning against the counter, setting his arms on either side of your body, affectionately trapping you in his grasp, “the two of you are always ganging up on me. Shoulda known you were going to be trouble.”

“Good trouble?” you reached up and put your hand on his face, swiping your thumb over the apple of his cheek. Joel always was a little rough around the edges, but you loved that about him. You loved how underneath that exterior, he had a kind, gentle heart.

“The best,” he took your hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Despite his best efforts, you could still see the faintest blush in his cheeks, “just so you know, I want to make out, but I don’t want to give her the satisfaction. We’re saving this for later.”

“Aye aye,” you mock saluted him and he snorted in amusement, “we made cookies. And your favorite for dinner, so I’ll be expecting a lot of thanks later.”

“Baby,” he closed his eyes and groaned softly, “you’re killing me.”

“And you’re letting dinner burn in the oven, so move it,” you put your hands on his hips and shuffled him to the side. You felt him watching your every move closely, “stop staring at my ass and help me, please.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, but it was nothing but fondness…and it didn’t stop him from teasingly slapping your ass as you made a sound of surprise, “now I’ll help.”

“You are the worst, Joel Miller.”

What you really meant was I love you with every fiber of my being, Joel Miller.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Are you even paying attention to the movie?” you looked up at Joel, and nodded sleepily, pulling yourself off him as if to prove a point. You’d been lying on his chest, his arm around you for the last hour as you tried to focus on whatever silly movie he’d put on, “mhmm.”

“Shh,” you waved him off, “it’s not my fault you have terrible taste in movies.”

“This is a piece of cinema,” he joked, just as someone else on screen was getting their head chopped off, “niche cinema.”

“Sure Joel,” you yawned softly, “it’s getting late. I should-”

“Just stay baby,” he insisted and despite the fact that you knew he would, your stomach flipped happily, “I don’t want you driving late at night when you’re this tired.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” you felt his fingers wrap around your wrist as he tugged you closer to him. You were soft and malleable and let him pull you into his lap, “but you’ve convinced me to stay.”

You leaned in to kiss him, slowly at first, suddenly feeling wide awake. Your body hummed with energy as his hands found purchase on your waist and he kissed you back with just as much eagerness. He really did make good on his makeout promise from earlier. And he kissed you until you were breathless and dizzy, grinning at him shyly.

“You’re so warm and soft,” he mused as his hand dipped under your sweater and spread his fingers along your ribs, “and beautiful.”

“Is that what you say to all the girls?” you teased softly and he let out a bark of laughter.

“Just you,’ he promised, as if you needed some sort of reassurance. You beamed as you leaned into him and peppered kisses along his jaw and down his glorious neck, “you keep this up longer and-”

“We’re not having sex on the couch,” you laughed quietly, a sound that went straight to his heart. He really loved you, he thought at that moment, “where one - Sarah could walk in on us any moment and two - we all sit on here. Bedroom, Miller.”

“Fine,” he pouted and you turned his face up towards yours as you kissed the pout away. A serious look crossed his features when you pulled away, “I’ve been thinking…”

“Uh oh. That’s never a good idea-”

“Hush,” he pressed a finger to his lips and you pressed a kiss to it, “I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s time you actually moved in. Officially.”

“Yeah?” your heart swelled and felt like it was about to burst with pure happiness. He nodded and there was a gentle hopeful look in his big brown eyes that you loved, “okay y-yeah. Yes. I’d really like that too.”

“Yeah?” This time it was his turn to ask for reassurance.

“Yeah,” you promised, cradling his handsome face in your hands. You kissed him a few more times, reverent and saccharine, before you pulled back again, “bedroom?”

“You read my mind.”

“Joel?” you paused for just a moment before either of you could move, “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

“Forever?”

“Forever,” he smiled softly, “and then even longer.”

[its-avalon-08]

you create life (cs55)

✦ pairing - carlos sainz x female!reader

✦ genre - pregnancy, fluff, tears, comfort

Carlos and Y/N were a tapestry woven with threads of adoration and companionship. Their love story, a five-year-long symphony of shared laughter, silent understanding, and unwavering support, was the envy of many. They were the epitome of a modern power couple, their careers soaring like eagles, their hearts intertwined like ivy.

Y/N, a brilliant strategist with a sharp mind and an even sharper wit, complemented Carlos's fiery passion and relentless drive. Together, they were a force to be reckoned with. Neither had explicitly broached the topic of children, their focus predominantly on their individual and shared ambitions. Yet, their love was deep-rooted, a fertile ground where dreams sprouted and flourished.

It was a sweltering afternoon at the paddock, the cacophony of engines and pit crews a constant hum in the background. Carlos, drenched in adrenaline and focus, was in the zone. But the world outside the cockpit crashed into his reality when his phone vibrated. It was Y/N. Her voice, usually a melodious chime, was now a broken symphony of sobs.

Panic surged through him. He excused himself, his mind racing with a thousand possibilities. "Love, what's wrong? Talk to me," he urged, his voice laced with concern. But she could only cry, her words lost in the tempest of her emotions.

With a heavy heart, Carlos made a decision. The race, the championship, everything faded into insignificance. He needed to be with her. In that moment, the roaring engines, the cheering crowds, the hunger for victory – all of it paled in comparison to the woman he loved.

He rushed out of the paddock, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm. The drive to their home was a blur, a desperate journey to reach the source of her distress. As he pulled into the driveway, his hands trembled. He took a deep breath, his mind preparing for the unknown.

The house was quiet, an eerie stillness that contrasted sharply with the turmoil he imagined inside. He found her in their bedroom, curled up on the bed, her body shaking with sobs. Her eyes, usually sparkling with mischief and intelligence, were now red and swollen.

Carlos's heart shattered into a million pieces. He knelt beside the bed, taking her hand in his. "Love, look at me," he whispered, his voice gentle. She turned her face towards him, her expression a raw, vulnerable mask of pain.

"Tell me what's wrong," he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/N’s voice was a broken whisper, lost in a labyrinth of apologies. "I’m so sorry, Carlos. I’m so sorry," she repeated, her body trembling uncontrollably. Each word was a dagger to his heart, yet he couldn't decipher the reason for her distress. Panic began to gnaw at him. "Love, please, tell me what’s wrong," he urged, his voice laced with desperation.

Then, she held up the pregnancy test, the stark white lines a silent accusation against the tranquility of their world. Time seemed to freeze, the only sound the erratic thumping of Carlos's heart. Y/N’s eyes, filled with a mixture of fear and hope, searched his face for a reaction.

A heavy silence descended upon the room, a vacuum of emotions. Carlos's mind raced, trying to comprehend the implications of this tiny, plastic device. His world was turned upside down, yet there was an undercurrent of something else, something profound and beautiful.

Y/N's voice broke the stillness, her words tumbling out in a rush. "Carlos, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I know, I know, we haven’t talked about kids or anything, and our careers are going so well. I’m so scared, I don’t know what to do. I was so careful, I don’t understand how this could happen.

I know we were supposed to focus on our careers, to build our lives together, and now this… I feel like I’ve ruined everything. I know you’re strong, and you’ll figure everything out, but I’m so scared. I don't want to let you down. I don’t want to be a disappointment.

I know you’re going to be an amazing father, the best father, but I’m terrified. I don’t feel ready. What if I can’t be the mother our child deserves? What if I mess everything up? I’m so selfish, I know. I should be happy, but I’m just scared. I’m so scared, Carlos."

But Carlos wasn’t listening to her words. His heart was soaring, a symphony of joy and disbelief. He was going to be a father. The thought was so overwhelming, it was as if he was floating. He pulled her into his arms, spinning her around in a whirlwind of happiness.

“We’re going to be parents, Y/N! I'M GOING TO BE DAD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!” he shouted, his laughter ringing through the room. Tears of joy streamed down his face as he kissed her breathless. “I love you so much. This is the best news ever!”

Y/N's sobs turned into laughter, a sweet melody that filled the room. In that moment, fear and uncertainty vanished, replaced by a shared dream of parenthood. Their love, a foundation built on trust and companionship, was about to embark on its most extraordinary chapter yet.

"Shhh, my love, shhh," Carlos whispered, his voice trembling as he wiped away her tears. His own eyes were a glistening ocean, but his heart was overflowing with joy. "You're not ruining anything, Y/N. You're creating something extraordinary. Something beautiful.

I've always wanted kids, but never as much as I want them with you. With the woman who makes my world brighter, who makes me laugh harder, who makes me a better person. You are the most incredible woman I know, and you're going to be an amazing mother.

I promise, I'll be there every step of the way. We'll figure this out together. We'll make sure our little one has everything they need, and more importantly, all the love in the world. Your dreams, your career, they're all important to me. I'll make sure you can continue to pursue them. But right now, let's just focus on this incredible miracle growing inside you. We'll cross every bridge when we come to it, together, as a team. Siempre estaré aquí para ti mi amor, estás creando vida. y por eso eres una diosa (I'll always be here for you my love, you are creating life. and for that you are a goddess)."

As he held her close, Carlos felt a surge of protectiveness. He would be her rock, her support, her partner in this incredible journey. Together, they would face whatever challenges came their way, their love a beacon of hope in the vast ocean of parenthood.

And in that instant, as they stood there, their hearts intertwined, they knew that their love story was far from over. It was just beginning, a new chapter filled with the promise of life, laughter, and an unconditional love that would shape generations to come.

[bucketsofmonsters]

The Witch's Apprentice - Part 7

cw: demon summoning, prolonged isolation, size difference, agoraphobia, depression, more tags will be added as the story continues

male demon x afab reader

Word count: 3k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

You woke up alone and felt anything but. The distant buzz of people outside, on the streets, bustling about the hallways of the inn, felt suffocating. It all seemed so loud now, so deafening. 

Lucien appeared in front of you, giving you a quiet “Good morning,” and suddenly, it wasn’t loud at all, his voice cutting through the hum that had seemed deafening moments before. 

“How’re you doing?” he asked as you blinked up at him from your seat on the bed. 

Was his voice quieter than usual? Or maybe that was just how people sounded with the constant buzz of a city in the background. 

“I don’t have any stuff,” you said. It was a trivial complaint, you knew that, but you wanted something to hold onto. Anything that was yours, that wasn’t so foreign. 

He laughed and it felt cruel. You knew it shouldn't, that he was trying to help, but it felt cruel that he was allowed to do that right now, while you felt like you’d been broken into pieces. “We’ll get you new stuff, don’t worry about that.”

Like it was that simple. Like you could just get new stuff and move on. 

It wasn’t his fault. You knew that. He was the reason you were still here. But some part of you; some unsnuffable, horrible little instinct; wanted to blame him. Without him, you would still be home. Without him, nothing would have changed. 

“I just…” you began, with no idea how to articulate any of this to him. 

And then, with the most distressed expression you’d ever seen from him, he interrupted you and said, “I have to go. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

And that was it. He faded away and you were alone again. 

You hated the deafening roar of the city he left you with. 

At least when he was here, you could pretend things would be okay. 

You didn’t have anything left. Anything but him. At least when he was in front of you, you had something to cling to. 

Hours passed before he reappeared in front of you. When he did, you didn’t manage to get a word out before a string of curse words escaped him and he faded out of existence again. 

You barely even moved as you waited for him. What would you do anyway? You had nothing to do but wait, so that’s what you did, patiently and quietly, on the bed he’d found for you. 

It was a shorter wait this time, under an hour if you had to guess. 

“Where do you keep going?” you asked as he solidified in the space in front of you. It was slower without you summoning him, like he had to put real effort into coming to you. 

A pained expression flashed across his face, disappearing as quickly as it arrived. “I’m being summoned.”

“So often? You’re a popular demon,” you said it with the cadence of a joke, but neither of you found it particularly funny. 

“Summonings go through phases,” he said with a sigh. “Names get discovered or obtain reputations. I was too nice for a while, people got comfortable, so I get called upon a lot these days. I’m rectifying my mistake. Hopefully, my name will start to come with a bad taste in people’s mouths in a few decades.”

“Oh. Good luck with that, I guess.”

“Thank you. It’s been going pretty well. Only one major lapse in my judgment,” he said with a pointed look in your direction. 

You couldn’t help but smile a little at that. “I promise to tell everyone you were real mean to me. Very scary, the scariest demon you could imagine.”

A huff of laughter escaped him. “Good. My reputation may survive this little affair yet. Now, what have you been up to?”

Your eyes flicked around as you searched for an answer that wouldn’t sound horribly tragic. 

He didn’t wait for you to find one before butting in at your obvious distress. “Come on, you don’t need to wait around for me. You haven’t had the chance to do anything in years, go talk to someone or something.”

You shrugged. “I’m fine where I am.”

He looked you up and down, evaluating you as you shrunk away from him. “What is it? Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened. I’m just fine in here.”

His eyes narrowed and you couldn’t understand why he didn’t believe you. Surely it wasn’t that difficult to understand. Surely anyone would be hesitant to go back out into the world after being stowed safely away for so long. 

“Something happened,” he said, no longer a question and entirely incorrect.

“It really didn’t. Actually, as long as we’re talking about it, I was thinking. I probably shouldn’t be here at all. I mean, I’m not doing much here. I could always stay in hell with you. It would be easier that way.”

“No,” he snapped, and you flinched back at his harsh tone. “No,” he said again, softer this time, a quiet correction. “I will not let you just lock yourself away again. I will not be your new Eden.”

“I wasn’t asking you to be,” you lied, unconvincing even to yourself.

“You’ll be fine. Just go, talk to someone, get some fresh air. It’ll get easier.”

He didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, just how impossible it was. 

“Yeah, I will. Don’t worry about me.”

He gave you an unmistakably worried look as he said, “Alright, I won’t. I just think that… shit.”

“Is it happening again?”

“Just go do something. I’ll be back when I can.”

As you laid down in bed, with no intention to go out and doing anything, you wondered just how often he got summoned. You’d never really considered it before. You knew it happened of course, but you’d never put real thought into it past how frustrating of an experience it must be for him. 

What would happen if two people tried to summon him at once? Would it hurt? Rip him in two? You doubted that any of the witches summoning him had considered it either. 

And what other things was he being forced to do out there? Surely Eden wasn’t the worst witch he’d ever encountered. What other horrible things weighed on him every day, that he couldn’t help but feel a little responsible for?  

As time ticked on, another thought wormed its way into your head. Maybe he wasn’t being summoned at all. He’d never had to leave this often before he’d helped you make your daring escape and now he could barely stay with you for more than a few minutes. 

It made sense. He’d done what he wanted to do. He’d freed you from the trap he was forced to lay. His part in this should be over, his guilt assuaged, if it weren’t for the way you clung to him like a lifeline. 

The thoughts swam around your head until he appeared once more, looking irritated, eyes distant and cold. 

The spark of insecurity in you couldn’t be snuffed out any longer, not even in the face of his bad mood. 

“Are you actually being summoned?” you blurted out. “Because if you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to be.” You knew it wasn’t true, that you needed him, but still couldn’t stomach the idea of him forcing himself to be here. “I thought we were friends but maybe that was naive. Is it just guilt? Is that what all of this was?”

He sighed, his hands rising to rub at his temples. “It's not... I don't know. Maybe at the beginning. I wanted you to be bad. I needed you to be. And you weren’t and it was the worst thing you’ve ever done to me.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice quiet and broken and completely genuine. 

“You really are, aren’t you? Sorry for what? Sorry for not being awful?”

“Well, not…” You weren’t entirely sure what you were apologizing for. You just knew that you were sorry. “I just meant, sorry for making things worse for you. That’s all.”

“You didn’t make anything worse, not in the long run. I like you. I’m glad you got out of there. It’s just that right at the start I needed you to be a bad person so I didn't feel so fucking guilty. I hate doing this, you know. Being so cruel. Especially to people like you. But if I don’t things get so much worse.”

“You’re not cruel,” you said, knowing it was true and yet somehow, deep down, knowing it was the last thing he wanted to hear. 

“I didn’t used to be. That’s the rule. My new rule. No more being nice to the inexperienced ones. Witches like yours don’t give you opportunities to lash out so if you want to establish a reputation, you have to be cruel when you can be. Every single time they give you the chance. When the little witches summoning their first monster give you an opening, you strike. That way the next one thinks twice when they see your name in some summoning book.”

“That sounds awful.”

“Feels awful too. But nothing feels worse than being forced to do even crueler things so you do what you can. Lesser of two evils.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you said, knowing exactly what crueler things were flashing through his distant eyes. 

“Maybe not. Still wouldn’t have happened without me. You weren’t the first, you know. You were the first victim she kept, sure, but not the first one who fell prey to that damn forest. You’ve probably seen what’s left of some of them, some bones and remains of them in various forms. She got plenty of use out of them, I’ll give her that much”

Your heart skipped a beat as he spoke and your mind pulled back to the various bones and bits of gore in jars that you’d tended to and organized for her over the years. You’d never thought about them before, not really. Even trying to remember them, it was like a haze began to form in your mind, a buzzing pain starting to settle in over the distant images. 

You started to fall to the side before the feeling of a warm hand on your arm brought you out of your head. “Don’t hurt yourself,” he said, giving your arm a gentle squeeze before pulling back far too soon. “I’m sure she’s tainted most of your memories of anything she didn’t want you to see. It’s probably best to not try and look back.”

Now you had one more thing to mourn, even the memories of your home being ripped away from you. How cruel that you weren’t even allowed to keep those in this strange new place. 

“Right. I’ll do my best.”

He nodded. “I know you will. You’ll be fine. You’ve been doing really well.”

It was a kind lie. You appreciated him for trying to tell it.  

And then you were alone again. 

You did try leaving this place. You swore you did, despite knowing in the back of your head that you couldn’t do it. 

You peeked out the window on the tips of your toes down at unfamiliar faces on the street and stood at the door, pretending you knew how to steel yourself for the task ahead.

At the very least it was something to do with yourself when Lucien was away, gone to a summoning or back to hell or just living his life, doing things he refused to speak about with you, always keeping you at arms length. 

But that was unfair. He was there when he could be during the day, when some other witch didn’t whisk him away against his will to do whatever they pleased. 

He never spoke to you about it, about what they asked him to do. Every time you tried he got very quiet and then began to push back, asking you when you’d go outside. 

Nothing quieted you faster than that. 

At night he was always gone. 

At night you were small again. 

You hated sleeping, avoided it whenever you could. You were terrified of the dreams that might come. You’d honestly welcome a nightmare at this point. Your biggest fear was you would dream of home. Your biggest fear was waking up again after. 

Instead, you just stared at the wall every night, waiting for it to be morning so you could wait for Lucien again. 

A thud pulled you from your trance and your head jerked up towards the window just in time to see a bird falling to the ground below after having slammed into the glass it’s little mind couldn't comprehend. 

You were moving before you even had time to think. It was for the best, you weren’t sure you could’ve managed it if you’d had to think it through, to force yourself to get up and go check on the poor creature. 

You held your breath as you walked out the door of your room, freezing for a moment. You weren’t sure what you expected to happen. 

A woman walked by you, turning to the side and slipping by where you were blocking the hallway with a quiet, “Excuse me, love.”

There was a pressure building in your head, behind your eyes, closing your throat. This foreign air felt toxic, a bile rising inside of you. 

A gentle hand settled on your back and you practically jumped out of your skin to get away from it. 

You bolted at the contact, frightened, flighty. Darted not back inside but through the halls until you found a way outside, running around the perimeter of the building until you found it. 

It was a small, unassuming brown bird, crumpled on the ground, an injured wing tucked under itself. 

You picked it up as gently as you could, cradling it in the palms of your hands. 

Every instinct you had wanted you to run back and hide. Instead, you walked slowly, carefully, trying not to jostle the poor creature too much. 

The woman was no longer in the hall, having left at some point after you’d fled from her. Some part of you felt bad, hoped you hadn’t hurt her feelings or left her worried. 

Most of your attention was on the bird. 

You had no idea how to help it, would have to ask Lucien tomorrow. You were terrified to touch the bent wing, to make it worse than it already was. Even attempting to set it would hurt the poor creature and you couldn’t stomach the thought of it, of inflicting any more pain. 

You did what you could, forming a little bed to rest it in for the night, a little nest out of towels and pillows. 

It was almost funny in a way. A makeshift nest inside of your makeshift nest. You were no better off than this frightened, wounded little creature. 

At least maybe, someday, it could get out of here. 

[minkdelovely]

love and power

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chapter four

“take what you want.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: blood, flies, poisoning, mentions of nausea, descriptions of: violence ; cannibalism. ; suffocation ; and murder, kinda angsty?, slow burn eventual: smut

word count: 3.4k

author’s note: just a quick little note here for something i felt the need to clarify. there’s a moment that would have been perfect for alastor’s microphone but i am working under the fact that it’s still broken, which (to me) carries too much significance for his character and i don’t know how to magically fix it for him 🥲 i just realized i haven’t explicitly addressed why it hasn’t been mentioned at all and wanted to explain myself lol

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Seeing the distress on your face, Angel put a hand on your shoulder and tried to do damage control. “Whoa, babe, it’s okay! It’s probably just a coincidence — forget I said anything, all right? It was a gag!” 

You had been doing so well at keeping Donny from your mind today, but you could feel the panic welling up again. As the blood drained from your face, your mind raced with questions. How did Angel know it was Donny that you had attacked yesterday? How did they know each other — through work? Was someone looking for whoever had been responsible for it? What would happen if they found out it was you?

He peered over you and gave Alastor a nervous look. If you were shrinking against the static you felt building behind you, you didn’t even want to know what his face was looking like right now. But the thought of Angel being in Alastor’s line of fire was worse.

“But that was his name,” you said, giving them each a quick look. “Or at least that’s what I heard his friend call him.”

“Perhaps the elevator isn’t the best place for this,” Alastor said cooly, stepping forward to push the button that re-started your descent. He pivoted to face you and Angel and you felt admonished under his gaze. “Sylvie and I are on our way out, but if you’re free this evening Angel, we can discuss this more in private. I have some questions of my own.”

“It’s a date, Smiles,” Angel cooed, happy to diffuse the tension, and you felt yourself relax when he gave your shoulder a little squeeze. “I knew it was only a matter of time before you’d invite me up to your room.”

Alastor’s smile strained as his gaze wandered from Angel to you, leering. “Who said anything about my room?” 

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The walk into the city had been quiet, the tension from the elevator ride not yet fully gone. You knew Alastor’s good mood from yesterday wouldn’t last forever, but nothing could have prepared you for Angel’s ambush. How were you just supposed to sit with this until tonight? Your mind was still going in circles with questions, but what you really couldn’t let go of was how upset you had gotten at the sound of Donny’s name. Last night you thought you had made some kind of peace with your actions, but apparently you weren’t quite there yet.

It wasn’t so much the murder that bothered you, since you knew he’d eventually recover. Besides, it’s not like it was something you technically hadn’t done before. Though what happened with your grandmother was different; you’d poisoned her for starters. The rest was damage control and you died in the process so… karma. 

It was the rage you displayed that was chilling. You had never lost control like that before, no matter how upset you had been. And even though you had thrown up, you never thought — no. It was still too much to think about and your stomach turned in response, threatening to evacuate what little was in there.

You were so lost in thought it wasn’t until you were nearly standing in it that you realized Alastor had brought you to the alley. He really was such a menace. Donny was nowhere to be seen but the large pool of blood left behind had baked into the concrete. The bag with the liver was there as well, rotting in the afternoon sun.

“Is this the bag you were muttering about earlier?” Alastor asked, leaning over it with his arms crossed behind his back. You had forgotten about letting that slip while you were cleaning, your headache getting the best of you in a moment of weakness. Alastor hadn’t been moved.

He seemed unbothered by the putrid smell that you were actively trying not to gag on. Flies escaped the bag as he inspected it with the tip of his shoe and you grit your teeth in disgust at the sight. Alastor looked over at you when you didn’t respond right away, his neck bent at an unnatural angle to make eye contact. You managed a nod in confirmation, too nauseous to dare open your mouth to answer. Had he really brought you here just to see if you had been lying about it? Or did he just want to see you squirm? Probably both.

You nearly fainted when he reached inside the bag, sending more flies on their way, and held the soggy, rancid parcel in his hand. Enjoying your repulsion, he made a show of inspecting it. The glittering smile on his face one of the more genuine displays you’d witnessed. 

“Such a shame. This would have made a great surprise,” he said as his hand turned over, the liver falling to the ground in a resounding, wet slap. 

Almost instinctually, your hand went to your mouth, drawing out a lighthearted chuckle from Alastor. He wiped off his hand and made his way back to you then, and you trailed slightly behind him down the street. Neither of you noticed the drone.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Alastor was beginning to feel… impatient.

Considering the ordeal yesterday, he hadn’t expected you to be in the best of moods but you had started the morning off with some promise until Angel Dust appeared in the elevator. His lip twitched at the thought. What a fucking disaster that had turned out to be! The gray cloud hanging over you since then had only seemed to build, despite his effort to snap you out of it by popping into the alley.

Of course that had been mostly, if not solely, for his own pleasure. It was disappointing but not surprising that your victim Donny had been retrieved. Alastor had recognized the name of course, recalling how Valentino was shouting at his phone as he left the dry cleaners. It just had to be one of his little toys that you messed with, didn’t it? Not that you had known, but it was only a matter of time before that garish buffoon would find out about you. And despite it all, the dried blood that nearly reached from wall-to-wall was such a marvelous sight — what a mess you had made! A job well-done indeed, though it had put him in a bind. 

He knew you weren’t going to have the same appreciation for it that he did, and your disgust at his performance with the spoiled liver had been fun enough. He hadn’t been lying when he said it would have made a great surprise. But none of that had done anything to cheer you, and now you weren’t even keeping pace, walking behind him like a kicked dog. Hell, you certainly looked like one, the sullenness on your face threatening to break his own composure by the second. This wouldn’t do, not for the last free afternoon that he had you at his disposal. 

Alastor paused, ignoring how you ran into him and cursed, his attention on a cafe across the street he was fairly certain he had visited before. Perhaps sitting down to chat would help. It was lunchtime, anyway.

“Let’s stop in there,” he said, looking down at you, taking care to point out the cafe. Lord knows your poor soul needed all the direction it could get right now.

“I thought you wanted something from the butcher?” you questioned, eyeing him and the cafe with suspicion. 

The Radio Demon narrowed his eyes, smile tight, his shadow pulling free of him for a moment. If he wasn’t on the verge of being pissed off your question would’ve been funny; a feeble attempt at seeming to know his mind. And as of now, he was not in a laughing mood. Were you really so self-absorbed that you couldn’t tell you were on thin ice? A reset was definitely in order.

“Can’t a fellow change his mind? That rigidity of yours puts such a sour mood on everything! You seem to be full of nasty little habits,” Alastor sneered, pleased to have gotten under your skin as you scowled at him.

He didn’t wait for you as he made his way across the street, knowing you’d follow whether you wanted to or not.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Being treated to lunch wasn’t something you had ever expected from Alastor. Impossible didn’t even begin to describe this scenario. It was just so… cordial. He always took his meals alone at the hotel, making Rosie the only person you knew he would willingly dine with. And there was no way sitting down to a table with you would equate to that. Rosie was a peer — a friend! You were not and never would be.

That much was evident when he had held the door open for you, clearly forcing his hand. Outwardly, it would have appeared a genteel act but you knew better, even without the self-righteousness on his face as you quietly entered the cafe. What else could you have done but obey? It’s not like you could run away, having already felt the ominous tug on your neck as he walked across the street. 

He had left you at the table to order at the counter, and you watched as the cashier struggled to maintain his composure in Alastor’s presence, seemingly scared to death. It was the first time you had ever seen someone outside of the hotel interact with him, you realized. Alastor was being polite enough, though nothing seemed to reign in his air of superiority. The look in his red eyes told you all you needed to know: he loved having power over others. Whether it came from a place of fear or respect didn’t matter as long as he had the upper hand. This was the demon you belonged to.

When he joined you at the table, you could tell he was in a bit of a better mood. Despite the means to get here, you silently thanked the cashier for cowering. Hopefully he had softened whatever blow Alastor had in store for you. Though the placid look Alastor was giving you made you fidgety. Could be the calm before the storm…

“You’ve been testing my patience,” he finally said, waiting for the boy from the register to leave the table after dropping off two coffees. “But luckily for you, there are more important things I’d like to discuss. I’ve had quite a busy morning, not that you bothered to ask.”

It took all you had not to roll your eyes but you managed to keep a straight face, feeling his temper writhing just under the surface of his calm facade. But you had been with him nearly all morning. Or did his suite magically clean itself? What could possibly have happened in between those few gaps? Especially something you’d want or even know to ask about. And if I’d asked, you wouldn’t have told me, you thought indignantly.

“I’m sorry… the whole thing with Angel just really threw me off,” you said as sincerely as you could. It wasn’t a lie, after all. “And I don’t think going to the alley helped, either,” you added, eyes flitting from him to your coffee. Bold, but also not a lie.

He chuckled into his cup. “I’ll concede to that. I thought it would be funny, but I shouldn’t expect you to share my taste in humor. You’re still so new, and all that. But I worry if you don’t shake that mortal way of thinking you’ll wither, my dear, and that would be a shame. If you’ll allow me, I’d take great pleasure in helping you fix that.”

You were unsure of how to react. Technically, he didn’t need to ask your permission for anything, so was this just the illusion of giving you a choice only to end up as a trap? It felt as if there was always something just out of reach whenever he spoke to you like this, like the fine print in a contract. He was only direct when he was upset, which you’d prefer if you were being honest. Anger you could take — understand, even. But this? You were just spinning your wheels. 

“So, what, I’m not doing the afterlife right, or something?” It had been somewhat of a joke, but the look he gave you was smug.

“That’s precisely what I’m saying. You’ve been dead a few months now, yes? But the moral compass you’re adhering to won’t benefit you here. Take Donny for instance,” he said, eyes brightening as you flinched at the name. “What’s bothering you so much about it? He provoked you, didn’t he? Regale me with your account!”

He made a show of settling in his chair, adjusting his coat and crossing his legs, apparently content to sit for hours if that’s what it took for you to open up. You remembered him asking you to tell him what Donny had done when you were walking back to the hotel yesterday, but wasn’t that just teasing? The expectant look on Alastor’s face begged to differ. 

So you told him.

To your surprise, he sat there and listened as the words spilled from your mouth. Your intent hadn’t been to ramble, but he didn’t seem bothered by it as you took him through the events of yesterday morning. Eventually getting to how you had been so close to making it back in time, only to be cornered and harassed; a sick twist of fate just for wanting to be prepared. He was calm as you told him how Donny had grabbed you and licked the tears off your face, but you could’ve sworn you saw his eye twitch.

“And then I just… lost it, I don’t know,” you sighed, hiding your face in your hands. “I was just so mad! Like who the fuck did he think he was, touching me like that? And my body just reacted before my mind could catch up. But then when it was all over, I…,” you paused and let out a breath, fighting against the turmoil in your stomach from what you were preparing to say next. “I can still feel how my teeth punctured his skin. I can hear the sound it made, even more than the screaming. I didn’t even know I was swallowing it all until…”

You stopped then, the tingling in your throat painful, your coffee long forgotten and cold. He had been there for the rest of it, what more was there to say? Did he really want to know how every sip of liquid or bite of food since then had been nearly-impossible tasks? How you had sobbed in the shower as you watched the blood stream down your legs and into the drain? Or how you barely managed to look yourself in the mirror because it felt like someone else was looking back? Those didn’t seem like details he’d be interested in.

In fact, weren’t they the very things he was inferring your morality had burdened you with? You’d only be making his point for him, and somewhere in your mind you concurred. You didn’t want to be saddled with this misery forever, but the person you always thought you were was slipping away, and you just wanted to cling to whatever pieces you had left. Horror was a welcome pill to swallow. It meant that you hadn’t completely enjoyed what you had done. 

Because part of you had enjoyed it.

You thought of your grandmother again. In life, there had been countless times you made yourself small for the sake of accommodation. No telling how many words had died in your throat because it was easier not to say them. So as you watched her fall out of that godforsaken chair she loved so much, gasping for air that wouldn’t come as she crawled on her hands and knees, you relished it. She had pushed you to your limit and was finally paying the price. Appalling as it was, for the first time in your life you had felt strong. 

Killing Donny hadn’t left you with the same feeling of victory as killing your grandmother had, though. What his intentions for you had been, you’d probably never know, but they definitely weren’t anything good. In that sense you were very glad to have gotten to him first and, to a certain extent, would do it all over again if need be. But none of this was information you felt like confessing to Alastor.

“And here I was, hoping that the cannibals had rubbed off on you,” Alastor mourned, resting his chin in his hand. “So eating him is what’s upset you, not the murder?” You couldn’t ignore the glimmer in his eye or the insinuation behind it.

“You’re generalizing,” you chided, sighing as you crossed your arms. You were feeling very tired now. “But yes, if that answers your question. He’ll heal eventually and he would have hurt me if I hadn’t done what I did.”

“That’s true enough,” he agreed, pushing back from the table to stand. He offered you a hand and you took it, feeling slightly stiff from sitting so long. “I suppose you’re not as hopeless as I thought, but my offer still stands. I think under the right circumstance, you could learn to enjoy it.”

You scoffed. Was he serious? “Was that really what you wanted to talk to me about? I’m not trying to eat people for fun.”

Alastor didn’t answer, but his smile was wicked as he took your arm in his as you left the cafe. You did your best not to imagine what thoughts could be passing in his mind, but felt relief all the same seeing him in a better mood again.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The two of you had barely entered the lobby when Angel sprang off the couch in the parlor, looking irritated and worn out. “Fucking finally! We need to—”

Alastor couldn’t help but wonder if he was the only creature in this realm that understood the art of subtlety. Hadn’t the debacle in the elevator been enough for one day? Was he doomed forever to salvage any bit of decorum that he could come across? It was truly lamentable.

“Sylvie, why don’t you go prepare my room for the evening? I’d prefer to speak with Angel alone,” Alastor said, removing your arm from his as he turned to face Angel Dust. He could feel his shadow threatening to separate from him, but scaring the boy would be counterproductive. “Shall we head to yours?”

He ignored your huff of frustration at being dismissed, but was grateful you didn’t fight him on it. It’s not a battle you would have won anyway. As soon as he saw that you were in the elevator, Alastor’s shadow enveloped the two of them, re-materializing in Angel’s room.

“Remind me to never let you do that again,” Angel grimaced, rubbing his arms squeamishly. “I feel dirty, and that’s sayin’ a lot.”

Alastor’s patience was threatening to snap, and he didn’t succeed in maintaining a pleasant tone when he spoke. “Why don’t we discuss whatever it was you were about to shout in the lobby? Or was the urgency just an act?”

Angel scoffed. “Hey, fuck you, all right? I was just tryin’ to help, and now I’ve been roped into your bullshit! Val’s been blowin’ up my fuckin’ phone all afternoon — he said a drone caught you and Sylvie in an alley or some shit?”

Alastor’s eyes went black, his pupils switched to dials. Fuck. This was all happening much sooner than Alastor had planned for. He had originally planned to ask Angel what Valentino had known in regard to Donny, hoping to have the upper hand and confront the cretin on his own terms. But now the ball was in Valentino’s court… and he had brought it upon himself. He just had to go back to that fucking alley earlier, didn’t he? Alastor could feel the rage threatening to consume him, but that would have to wait until he had a moment to himself. 

“What does he want?” he managed to ask without venom, antlers growing despite himself.

“I don’t know, but he won’t quit houndin’ me,” Angel huffed, sitting on the edge of his bed. “He wasn’t even pissed off about Donny, he thought it was funny! That piece of shit barely gets work anyway. But now he knows you’re involved and said he wants to meet up you know where. Whatever the fuck that means…” 

Alastor sighed, eyes returning to red, and wiped off his monocle if only to keep his hands busy. He’d hate to strangle Angel Dust by mistake. It would be difficult to explain, and besides, he wasn’t one to shoot the messenger.

“Tell him I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon. I’ll do what I can to ensure he keeps you out of it going forward,” Alastor said in a clipped voice, blood dripping down the corner of his mouth. He disappeared from the room before Angel could respond.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold

[thinkofmehoney]

“A Place for You to Rest”

⇢ Summary: Choso asks Nanami to teach him how to cook, so he can prepare a meal for Yuji. He gets frustrated when he can’t do it perfectly, feeling the pressure of trying to be the best older brother for Yuji after the death of his younger brothers. But Nanami sees this, and when the anxiety it’s getting the best out of Choso, he’s right there to help him.

⇢ contents: NOT SHIP CONTENT!, slice of life, found family, fluff and angst, emotional hurt/comfort, Choso needs a hug, Nanami is a good dad, insecure Choso, canon compliant

⇢ notes: in this au Nanami is like 40, Choso is a half curse so he’s still 150 but appears early 20’s, and Yuji is 10. I haven’t really thought much about details but I’ll probably do it in another occasion!

Ao3 link is in the title

⇢ word count: 1.3k app

“Is it like this?” Choso asked, a little unsure as he roughly chopped onions. He looked really focused, almost stressed.

Nanami observed his movements, and he spoke with the gentle, fatherly tone that characterized him. “Try to slice them in finer pieces. Like this”

Nanami chopped another onion with ease, he has learned to enjoy cooking with the years, ever since he realized that cooking meant he would spent time eating delicious food with his little family.

Choso looked, trying to mimic Nanami’s controlled movements. He frowned at the onion, “I’m trying, but I just… Can’t manage to get it right.”

Choso was starting to sweat and he hasn’t even started to cook the actual meal yet. He asked Nanami for guidance on how to cook, because he didn’t really knew how and also because he wanted to make Yuji’s lunch for school tomorrow.

Choso wanted to be useful, he didn’t want to just live off of Yuji’s dad, the least he could do was to learn how to cook properly. In this way, he hoped he could feel more comfortable too, after all, Nanami wasn’t his dad, so Choso was only living there because he was Yuji’s half-human half brother.

Being the observant man he was, Nanami could notice the way Choso clumsily and hastily chopped the onions. Not because he wasn’t capable of doing it right, but because he was too frustrated.

“Choso, hey, slow down.” He adviced, he didn’t knew if it was the onion, but Choso’s eyes slowly filled with tears.

“I-I can’t, I have to get this ready for Yuji, and you should’ve been sleeping fifteen minutes ago for work if it wasn’t for me.” He desperately explained.

“Kid, calm down, or else you-“ Thump

“Ouch!” Choso dropped the knife on the counter after cutting the tip of his finger.

With a hand on his back, Nanami quickly guided him to the sink to rinse and cool down the wound. It was nothing really, he wasn’t even human after all, he could heal that little cut in a few seconds.

But the way Nanami carefully rinsed it, taking care of him like Choso’s father never did, made him feel warm and safe, like if there was nothing to worry about, because his dad was there for him.

Except, of course, Nanami wasn’t his dad.

“I told you, kid, those knifes are really sharp.” He reprimanded him softly, he used some paper towels to wrap his finger. “Hold this tightly, okay?”

Choso just nodded, looking down at his hands. He didn’t had any words left to say, a little taken aback by the cut.

Nanami sighed, crossing his arms on his chest, leaning back on the kitchen isle. “Now, what is it?”

Confused, Choso tried to answer. “What?”

Nanami gave him a knowing look, and Choso felt like he had been caught. “Choso, you’re the calmest person I’ve ever met in my life. Why are you so distressed?”

Choso only looked at him, trying to hold his gaze, but his lower lip quickly formed a pout, tears filled his eyes. “I just… I just wanted to learn how to cook…”

He sniffed, holding his wounded finger and letting his tears fall. “I want to make sure I can cook a proper meal if Yuji is hungry.” He sobbed softly. “I want to be a good brother.”

Nanami’s eyes softened, seeing Choso crying and holding his injured finger made him look so small, just like when Yuji was even littler. He uncrossed his arms, speaking softer now.

“Choso, you are a good brother to Yuji, you’ve always been.” He tried to comfort him.

Choso sniffed, roughly trying to wipe his incessant tears with his sleeves. “I just… I want to protect him, to be useful.” He cried. “He said he wanted to cook with me, b-but I didn’t know how, I was too embarrassed to say so… So instead I told him I’ll cook with him tomorrow.” he explained, looking at Nanami.

Nanami felt like it was deeper than that, it was more than just wanting to be able to cook with Yuji. He knew that Choso’s younger brothers died some years ago, and that it affected him greatly.

Choso felt like he had to be the best, that perfection had to be his starting point. But even if he didn’t believe it, he was still human, and humans weren’t perfect.

Nanami took a step closer, tilting his head to see him better. “Choso, I can see how much you’re struggling, but you have to take it easier on yourself.” He sighed, it was difficult to see Choso so hurt.

He continued. “I know you’ve been through some painful moments, kid. I know you feel that losing your brothers was your fault.”

Choso opened his mouth, about to say something when Nanami shook his head. “It wasn’t your fault, Choso. But you’re carrying a heavy burden on your shoulders. You’re doing your best now with Yuji, both him and I can see that.”

Choso looked up at Nanami, feeling like he would never stop crying after this. He didn’t know how much he needed to hear that until now.

Nanami continued. “Yuji looks up to you, Choso. Not because you’re perfect, but because you’re there for him, you’re willing to learn and to grow for his sake and that shows how much of a good brother you are.”

He hoped his words could comfort him at least a bit, and they did. Choso nodded, still trying to wipe those tears. Nanami just gave him a soft smile and extended his arms at him. “Come here.”

Choso looked at him for a moment, and then immediately let himself be hugged by Nanami. He felt protected in such a warm hug—like everything might actually be alright.

He hugged him back, letting himself cry on his shoulder, and for a moment, Choso simply let himself be held. He buried his face into Nanami’s shoulder, his tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt. He didn’t care; it was the comfort he’d been craving for so long.

“Thank you, dad.” He didn’t even had time to think about what he said when the word had already slipped out of his lips. His eyes widened, trying to separate from the hug. “I-I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to-“

But to his surprise, Nanami pulled him in again, into a protective hug, gently patting his back. “It’s okay.” he murmured reassuringly, almost like a coo. “If you want to call me that, it’s okay.”

Choso’s eyes widened and filled up with tears again, he felt so relieved that Nanami accepted him. He’s never had an actual father figure before, and he didn’t know he craved one so bad until now.

“Dad…” For the first time, he felt like he belonged somewhere, it wasn’t just him and Yuji against the world, now he knew that there was someone that could take care and protect them too. “Thank you… thank you so much.” he cried

Nanami chuckled, caressing Choso’s hair. “You’re welcome.” He looked down at him. “To be honest… I would’ve been upset if after all these years you didn’t consider me as a part of your family.”

They both laughed at that, and after a few minutes, Choso felt more calmed. Nanami patted his back comfortingly, and held the onion and knife again.

“I’ll show you an easier way to do this, okay? We’ll do this together, it doesn’t have to be perfect.”

Choso nodded, holding the knife and the onion too. “Alright, dad. I’ll do my best.”

thank you for reading!! reblogs are greatly appreciated! <3

[gay-dorito-dust]

It’s been a hot minute but I just can’t get over how much this dude brings be as much comfort as Barbie does.

Ken is your ultimate hype man.

Ken is your personal cheerleader.

Ken is the man who’d always root for you, even when you have given up on yourself.

If Ken had it his way, he’d root for you forever because he knows how capable you are of doing great and wonderful things, and he’ll gladly say it with his whole chest too. Yet sometimes all that positivity left you feeling as though you couldn’t live up to the expectations that he had when it came to you in fear of letting him down, allowing him to see that you weren’t this perfect being that he often portrays you as whether or not he was aware of it.

You didn’t blame Ken, he had only wanted to help you but there’d be days where you want to return the gesture tenfold, to show him how amazing and beautiful he is for sticking by you through particularly rough times, even if his advice wasn’t entirely sound, you still understood that he only had the best of intentions. You wanted Ken to know that his actions and words haven’t gone unnoticed by you and that you held them as close to your heart as you did with him. However when the day came…it was Ken who once again came to your rescue as you were suffering from a particularly rough time mentally.

Whilst Ken was doing his usual Ken thing in attempting at making you feel better, you found yourself automatically blurting out; ‘you’re amazing, you know that?’ You told him rhetorically. ‘Because you are. You’re always so kind to me, so sweet, so encouraging, so…god I can’t put into words how special you truly are Ken and I’ve been meaning to thank you for everything but,’ you shrugged pathetically whilst laughing teary at your own misfortune, ‘you’re once again stuck here reassuring me instead…and sometimes I feel as though I’m taking advantage of you and your kindness as I’m over here feeling sorry for myself for being sad.’ You paused briefly before continuing. ‘you weren’t made to keep doing this much to the deferment of your own well being.’

Ken, who was sat beside you, listened intently, frowned for a moment as he was taking in everything you had just said, before he sat himself up in bed to reach to the back of his neck to unclip his most prized possession; the silver horseshoe pendant he always had on as he then wordlessly took your hand and pressed the necklace into your palm. Naturally you were against this and tried to push the pendant back to him, muttering a ‘Ken no,’ but that only made Ken’s frown deepen.

‘Why?’ He asked.

‘I can’t take your totally tubular, wickedly awesome horse pendant.’ You told him, using the very exact words that he used when first getting the horse themed accessory. ‘It belongs to you and you shouldn’t have to give it up for anyone. Not even me.’ You added with a whisper.

‘When you said that I’m not made to keep comforting you whenever your sad, or even the slightest bit distressed, I want you to know that that’s the one thing I’m going to have to disagree with you on,’ Ken said as he took the pendant from you hand to put it on you himself, pulling away with a beaming smile across his face as he looked at how nicely the pendant looked on you, ‘because this is exactly what I was made for.’ He tells you before pressing a kiss to your nose, making you smile by osmosis.

‘That and horses.’ He quickly adds as you laugh at his goofy nature.

[she-wolf09231982]

Chapter 1- The Age of Chivalry

Summary: You're reassigned to Easy Company when one of their medics was injured pre D-Day. You expect some sass from the Company since you'll be the only female soldier in 100 miles but never expected for any of them to befriend you.

Author Note: Mature audience, Joe LiebgottxFemMedic, WW2, Character introduction, Pre D-Day, She/Her Pronouns, Y/N, L/N, Cursing/Swearing, Derogatory Slurs, Womanizing Comments, Military Terminology, Inappropriate Nicknames, Band of Brothers References, Mentions of Weaponry, Smoking, Story takes place Episode 1- Currahee

*These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real soldiers the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction*

~~~~~~~

October 1943

It was never a good idea to mix a single female with a Company of deprived men in the Army...but here you are. You found out you were assigned to Easy Company 2nd Battalion 101st Airborne Division in Fall 1943 when they lost one of their medics to an injury. Although you trained separately from the males at Toccoa in the Divisional medical unit and were one of very few females allowed to work alongside men, you got along quite well with most of the guys. You held your own never asking for special treatment or never played the ‘damsel in distress’ card, so Easy Company learned rather quickly that you can keep up.  

~~~~~~~

You remember the day you arrived at Aldbourne, England to make contact with the boys of Easy Company. With your reassignment order in hand, you approach a group of soldiers sitting at a picnic bench outside a building. All of them looking a bit rough, but nonetheless smoking and joking with eachother. They take a pause as they notice you approaching them. Some of them sizing you up and down as you carry your duffel full of medical supplies and wearing fatigues that have yet to see the battlefields like theirs have.  

“Hey, you lost there, lady?” Private Roy Cobb called out to you, sizing you up again as you continued to walk towards them without faltering. 

You shoot the mouthy Private a look of disdain before responding. 

“I’m looking for Corporal Roe. I was told to make contact with him as soon I arrived.” You speak to the group as a whole. 

They all exchanged looks and a few whispers. 

Corporal George Luz stood up. 

“Why, I’m Eugene Roe. But around here they call me, ‘Doc.’” He declared confidently with a cocky grin. 

The others started to snicker. One laid a heavy pat on his shoulder showing his appreciation of the joke. 

You rolled your eyes, releasing an exasperated sigh. 

Sergeant Denver Randleman stood from the bench, then walked towards you pushing Luz aside shaking his head as he passed him. He was a larger man. Like a bear. Never removing the cigar hanging out of the corner of his mouth as he spoke to you.  

“He’s across the way this way, I’ll take ya to him.” He said, motioning you along in the opposite direction. 

“Thank you, Sergeant.” You reply. 

“No problem. And it’s just ‘Bull,’ ma’am.” He said politely in his thick Southern accent as he passed you leading the way.  

You turn on your heel and proceed to follow Bull, ignoring the distant whistles you heard from some of the men you just met behind you. 

~~~~~~~

“I hope the guys haven’t given you too much trouble so far?” stated the actual Eugene ‘Doc’ Roe when you crossed into the designated aid station. 

“Nothing I haven’t dealt with before, Doc.” You say with conviction.  

Bull chuckled, finding your response amusing. 

“Yeah, I bet.” Doc replied before continuing. 

“Well, let’s get you in processed here, and squared away. Thanks for bringing her here, Bull. I’m sure those other idiots would’ve just sent her to their barracks.” he said with a roll of his eyes. 

Bull nodded with a small wave.  

“See you at chow, L/N.” Bull called back to you before he left. 

When Bull returned to where the others were still gathered, they bombarded him with questions. 

“Did you catch her name??” Sergeant (Sgt) Don Malarkey prodded. 

“-is she coming to Easy Company??” Sgt Bill Guarnere interrupted before Bull could answer. 

“-did she say anything about me?” Luz questioned. 

As the interrogation got heavier, he threw his hands up and removed the cigar from his mouth. 

“GUYS!! Take it easy, will ya? You’ll see her later at chow, just don’t attack her with all of these questions right away, k? We don’t want to scare her off now, do we?” He explained as he replaced his cigar and walked away.  

They all swapped looks of excitement.  

“Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m going to have me a shower before dinner this evening.” Corporal Joe Liebgott stated while flicking his cigarette butt, rising from the picnic bench, shouldering his rifle. 

“Ok, Liebgott, like you have a shot.” Malarkey teased. 

Liebgott turned to him. 

“Oh contrare, I feel you underestimate me, Don.” He shot back at Malarkey while walking backwards, then turning back around. 

The group scoffed at him collectively. 

~~~~~~~

You got to chow early before any of the other men started to show up. You tucked yourself way in the back at a long table in the corner. You made sure to keep your head down, hanging over a tray trying to swallow some of the Army’s finest slop.  

“Should’ve just stuck to a dinner roll with margarine.” You whispered to yourself as you grimaced from the last mouthful of mystery meat from your plate. 

“Not exactly a high-end dish from The Ritz, now, is it?” Sgt Carwood Lipton joked as he sat down across from you with his own serving of slop. 

“Yeah, not quite.” You respond while poking at a hard, clay-like mound on your plate that was supposed to be mashed potatoes. 

“You’ll get used to it.” Bull stated as he sat next to you with his tray. 

You ‘psh-ed’ at Bull’s statement. 

“I highly doubt that. But I’ll make do.” You convinced yourself. “Surprisingly not the worst food I’ve had.” You added. 

“Really, there’s something out there worse than this?” Lipton asked astonished as he stirred his cold soup that looked like ketchup and water. 

“Oh yeah! Pixley and Ehler’s Diner on Clark Street in Chicago has some questionable selections.” You explained. 

“Is that where you’re from?” Corporal Frank Perconte queried as he sat next to Lipton. 

“I am.” You replied with pride. 

“You Italian then?” Guarnere asked, inviting himself to the conversation, sitting next to Perconte. 

“Italian and Irish.” You clarified. 

“Ssshh, a goddam Mick-Deigo.” Guarnere sneered crinkling his nose in disgust. 

“Leave’er alone, Gonorrhea.” Liebgott interjected sitting next to Bull. 

“I’m guessing you're Italian?” You directed at Guarnere. 

“Sicilian, actually.” He retorted. 

“Hm, you know that Sicilians aren’t real Italians, right? Sicily is just like Australia. All the criminals of Britain were shipped there to be ostracized from the mainland. Sicily is just an island of Italy’s delinquents.” You taunted. 

The others “ooooo-ed” in unison. Even Perconte who was the other Italian of Easy company. 

“She got you there, Guarnere.” Bull teased. 

Everyone laughed. Except Guarnere. 

“You think you’re funny?” Guarnere challenged. 

You sighed and looked at him deadpan in the face without an ounce of fear to show. 

“Come on, Guarnere, she was only dishing out what you gave her.” Perconte defended. 

“Shut your trap, Perconte, you should be on my side!” he said slamming a fist onto the surface of the table then pointing at him.  

The rest of the table filled up with remaining members of Easy Company that could fit that wanted to see the fight unfold. 

You folded your arms in front of you on top of the table and leaned forward, making sure you got Guarnere’s attention, then spoke with distinct fire in your voice. 

“You think I’m some dame just showing up here straight out of basic training not knowing how to handle myself with soldiers? I’ve been whistled at, barked at, howled at, catcalled, pinched, ass slapped, and manhandled by the worst of them, pal. You labeling me because of my heritage ain’t gonna do shit to me. But I’ll be damned you disrespect me like I haven’t earned the right to be respected. Just remember, I’m the one that’s going to be tending to you if you get shot in the field, sergeant.”  

You glare at him, then rise harshly from your seat, leaving the rest of the table in a state of awe and shock. 

“Good job, Gonorrhea. You pissed her off now.” Liebgott pointed out with an audible tsk. 

“Fuck her.” Guarnere spit back. 

~~~~~~~

As soon as you left the chow hall, you found a spot out of sight to catch your breath and slow your heart rate. You leaned against a post looking up towards the night sky taking deep controlled breaths. 

“Corporal L/N?” You’re startled by the voice of Lieutenant (LT) Richard Winters. You snap to attention ready to render a salute, but he waves you down. 

“As you were. Are you alright?” He asked as you relaxed your stance. 

“Yessir, just getting some fresh air.” You reassured. 

He looked at you with skepticism, not believing you were telling him the entire truth.  

You continued. 

“A room full of men who haven’t showered in a few days can make a gal lightheaded.” You joked. 

The corner of LT Winters’ mouth started to curl into a slight grin, trying his best not to laugh outloud at your quick wit. 

“I see, L/N. Well rest up, we’ll need you to be ready when we move out for the next mission.” He explained. 

“Yes, sir. Have a good night.” You replied. 

Winters gave a nod and entered the chow hall. 

LT Winters bee lined for his company’s table. His men all greeted him cheerfully as he approached the table. 

“Lieutenant, got a seat open right here.” Bull called out, gesturing to your vacant spot. 

“No thanks, Bull, I’ve eaten already.” Winters responded. He paused before he continued. 

“Just ran into Corporal L/N on the way in-” He paused again to assess the men’s reaction. 

Some continued eating, pretending like they hadn’t really heard. Lipton, Bull and Liebgott looked up at Winters waiting for him to continue. 

“She seemed somewhat troubled.” Winters finished. He waited for anyone to speak up, looking at the group expectantly. 

“Maybe her panties got all up in a twist, sir.” Guarnere offered up sarcastically. 

Some of the men chortled in response. 

Winters, Bull, Lipton, and Liebgott weren’t amused. 

“Well, she only said a room full of foul-smelling males made her dizzy and she needed fresh air.” Winters relayed, while looking at Guarnere suspiciously. 

The men all started to smell their armpits self-consciously. 

“Corporal Liebgott.” Winters called out. 

“Sir?”

“Get out there and escort L/N to her tent.” Winters instructed. 

“Yes, sir.” Liebgott acknowledged. 

“L/N will not walk around alone at night, gentlemen. I don’t care who goes with her, but make sure she always has a battle buddy in the hours of darkness. Tracking?” Winters asked, raising his voice authoritatively. 

The table responded “yes, sir” simultaneously. 

Liebgott rushed out excitedly and hustled down the street to catch you before you got too far. 

~~~~~~~

You were aways a bit ahead before Liebgott found you. 

“Hey, L/N! Wait up!” He called after you. 

You turned around looking for the voice calling your name. 

You stopped walking, waiting for Liebgott trotting over to catch up to you. 

“Can I help you?” You asked with a little more harshness in your voice than you intended. 

“As a matter of fact, I’m here to help you. I have the honor of accompanying you to your barracks.” He responded with enthusiasm and a smile. 

You were taken aback. You raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Oh?” You questioned before continuing. “That’s quite unexpectedly chivalrous of you.” 

“Well, you have Winters to thank for that, it was his idea.” He responded quite bluntly. 

You rolled your eyes.  

“Hm, I see.” You reply briskly.  

Liebgott realized he sounded like an asshole right then. 

“Of course, if you approve, I’ll appoint myself your permanent battle buddy from now on.” He extended with his signature smirk as you resumed walking together. 

You felt your face heat up. You averted your eyes to the ground so he wouldn’t see you blush. But Joseph Liebgott doesn’t miss a thing. He grinned wider. 

“If those are the LT’s orders, then have at it, Liebgott.” You replied coldly. 

“Nah, that last part was my idea.” He stated proudly. 

You shot him a confused expression, then he winked at you. 

You laughed nervously, looking away quickly to break the awkwardness you felt in the pit of your stomach. 

He smiled at you affectionately.

“And call me Joe.” He added.

“Y/N.” You reply looking up at him through your lashes.

“Look, sorry if I’m making it weird. And don’t listen to Gonorrhea. He’s just a jackass with a height deficiency. The kid always has some stupid shit to say.” He explained. 

You nod trying to suppress a giggle. 

“This is me.” You announce as you approach the entrance to your sleeping quarters. You turn to face Joe. “Thank you for the chat, and the company, Liebgott…I mean Joe.” You say dotingly. 

“Forget it. So?” He asked. 

You were genuinely confused. 

“Sooo?” You reply. 

“Am I your permanent evening escort?” he asked with a grin and a wink. 

This time you laugh outwardly at his attempt at a flirty sexual inuendo. 

“If by ‘evening escort’ you mean my nightly walk to and from one location to another, I’d have to say....I’ll think about it.” You respond flirtatiously with a wink in return. 

His face lit up. 

“Well alright then. We’ll take another test run tomorrow night.” He proposed. 

You shook your head smiling, astounded by the level of confidence this man had. 

“Good night, Joe.” You finalized as you disappear beyond the threshold of the tent entrance. 

~~~~~~~

[yeoblurbs]

[05:34] angst to fluff, one-shot

Pairing: Choi San x Female Reader

WC: 2k

Warnings: small mentions of drinking (wine), subtle hints of anxiety, an awkward situation in public

Your hands shake beside you, heart hammering in anger as your eyes well up with tears. “That’s not what I intended to happen, San. I would never intentionally fuck up something that meant so much to you!” you throw your hands in the air as you speak, brows furrowed in frustration.

San is quiet; calm. Except his jaw is clenched, eyes narrowed and the dimples you love so much are nowhere to be seen. You want to throw up at the sheer hatred you see in his eyes.

His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he takes a deep breath, though the tension in his shoulders stays. “you’re saying it’s not your fault but if you were just nice to her, none of this would’ve happened!” he exclaims angrily.

“I was nice to her!” you cry out desperately. your face is crumpled in pure despair as you hear his next words. “clearly, not enough! so when I go back to work and lose my promotion because my crazy jealous fiancée couldn’t act civil, how will you still say that it’s not your fault?"

You hadn’t meant to cause a scene. San had asked you to come with him to a work party, one announcing his job promotion and you’d been delighted. except upon arriving, he had immediately been torn from your side by fellow coworkers, and while you were nervous, you knew you could handle yourself alone.

the problem arose when you went to use the restroom and in walked three girls, ones you saw speaking to San earlier while casually touching his arms. immediately uncomfortable, you quickly dry your hands intending to leave as soon as you could, except the black-haired one in the middle locks the door before walking right up to you.

she smiles, pearly white teeth and crimson lips, “you’re Sans girlfriend, right? I’m Yuna, his friend.”

if it weren’t for the fact that she locked you inside, you might’ve found her friendly. You smile, tight-lipped yet respectful, “I’m actually his fiancée, y/n. it’s nice to meet you, Yuna.”

her smile sours at your reply, and her friends ignore you entirely as they apply their makeup in the mirror. you know what will occur next is not something peaceful, having watched enough chick flicks to realize things would turn messy if you didn’t leave now. you bow in passing as you walk towards the door, swiftly moving past Yuna and unlocking it with a smile and nod.

except it wasn’t over then, and 30 minutes later, Yuna stands in front of you, her cherry lips parted in shock with a large red wine stain on her white dress. she begins to cry, soft sobs leaving her throat and her friends comfort her while looking at you with rage.

you open your mouth to say something; anything, but Yuna whips her head up and speaks, her voice intending those surrounding you to hear, “I haven’t done anything with San! We’re just friends, I would never go after a guy that’s taken!” her bottom lip curls into a pout. she looks at you with sadness, round eyes filled with tears as she bursts into more sobs. “you didn’t need to dump the wine on me, I’ll stay away from San, I promise!”

you’re in shock, unsure what to do as the circle of Sans coworkers look at Yuna in pity and stare at you with ire. you want to defend yourself, but how could you possibly shout that you hadn’t dumped anything on her, rather, that she dumped it on herself? who would they believe, the coworker with wet eyes or the outsider who stands before her?

but then you remember San; your fiancée, your best friend, and your soulmate. except before you can search the crowd for him, you feel a grip on your wrist as you’re pulled from the scene. you can hear him whispering apologies as he bows to fellow coworkers, but you’re too stumped at the entire situation while he brings you back to his car.

so that’s how you’re here, in your apartment at 12:32am shaking in distress as you are blamed for a situation that was not your fault. but you could handle Yunas friends blaming you, you could handle their coworkers looking at you with distaste, however, what you could not handle was San, your San, looking at you with loveless eyes as if you were nothing but a pesky, immature girlfriend. you hate that he trusts you this little; that your word wasn’t enough to him. you know you would believe him had the roles been reversed, and perhaps that is what hurts you most.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, San. I told you I didn’t do it, she poured it on herself and if you can’t believe me then maybe that says something about this relationship,” at your last sentence his face drops. his shoulders have released some tension and his eyes carry less hatred. but it’s not enough for you anymore. hurtful words have been thrown your way and you didn’t think you could stand to look at his cold gaze any longer.

you take a deep breath before wiping your cheeks and grabbing your own car keys. San has stepped forward, he looks confused as you turn to him, “I’m going to stay at my friend's house tonight. Go get some sleep and we’ll talk soon.” you utter tiredly yet no less firm.

he looks slightly panicked as his hand darts up to grab your wrist, but you aren’t in the mood to explain yourself any longer; you shake his hand off and wait for him to reply.

“wait.. you’re leaving? we need to still.. let’s just talk about this. don’t leave before we resolve this.” he pleads softly. the anger has washed from his form and his face holds nothing but a soft frown, fury nowhere to be seen. but it’s still not enough, at least not right now. “no, San. I don’t think I can properly speak to you right now after hearing you blame me for something that was not my fault. you made it clear that you don’t trust me. I need space.” you glance up at him before looking to the door, “sleep it off and I’ll see if I’m in the mood to talk tomorrow.”

But San isn't angry anymore, no, he could handle losing his job promotion, hell, he could handle losing his job entirely. what would destroy him most is losing you, and he feels guilt claw at his chest when he thinks about the words he carelessly spewed tonight. he needs you to know he's sorry, but how can he do that if you're gone? San looks at you in agony, eyes filled with anguish at the mere thought of you leaving right now. “do you have to? can you just stay? please? I’m sorry, I’m sorry for all of this but please let’s just sit down and talk.” he swallows and bites his lip, tears springing to his eyes, “don’t go.. don’t leave me” he pleads. "At least let me apologize."

the sight of his tears brings you pain, but you know you need the space for at least one night. you sigh and approach him. his teary eyes stare into your sad ones while you cup his reddened cheeks and kiss his forehead.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, san-ah. I’m hurt, but I still love you, and we will still talk.. but right now I really need the space. I hope you can respect that." you speak softly, aware of his fragile state despite the fact that you, too, are hurting just as much, if not more than he is.

Sans lips press together in another frown as he nods and kisses your temple gently, "Okay, I understand. I still want you to know I'm sorry, and I love you." your eyes fill with tears at the gesture and comment before you turn to leave.

ꕥ

You spend the night with your friend, updating her on what happened at the party. she tells you to leave San for good, but even she knows you would never do that, at least not over something like this. you arrive back at the apartment sometime in the afternoon, taking your time to reflect on the argument and process how you felt. you come to the conclusion that you will forgive San once he apologizes, though he will have to make it up to you with more than a simple 'sorry' this time.

you place your keys on the counter, taking off your jacket, and hanging it up. you look around in question, wondering where San was and how he could leave without saying anything when the two of you had yet to resolve yesterday's argument. you pad over to your shared bedroom, opening the door, and walk towards the lump on your bed. you pull back the cover and smile at the sight.

Sans hair is splayed out on the pillow, cheek smushed with his lips in a pout. your smile dims when you notice the redness beneath his eyes, realizing he must have cried quite a bit. you cup his cheek, rubbing your thumb underneath his eye as you lean down and place a gentle kiss on his forehead.

when you raise your head, his eyes flutter open. "morning, baby" you whisper with another kiss, this time to his nose. he crinkles his nose cutely at the action, before sitting up and attacking you in a hug. you fall on the bed with a soft thud while he lays his head on your chest and rubs his cheek on you; an endearing habit he had when he needed comfort.

you open your mouth to speak, but he beats you to it. "I'm sorry. yesterday I was a complete ass. there is no excuse for how I behaved or the things I said." he lifts his head up and looks at you, face inches apart, "I was afraid to lose my promotion, but still, I shouldn't have blamed you for something that wasn't your fault." he sighs and the two of you sit up facing each other.

"I..I'm so incredibly sorry for what I said and the way I handled the situation." he pauses and reaches for your hand; you notice his is shaking. "I've been so worried about my job, that I treated you like shit even though I knew it was wrong. I know it'll take time for you to fully forgive me," he squeezes your hand and looks you in the eye, "but I hope you know I love you, and I'll do my best to make things right."

you smile tearfully at his formal-like apology. while the wounds were still fresh, seeing his serious demeanor and hearing his reassuring words that he did truly love you was comforting. still, though, there was one thing you couldn't shake off; one comment that had you spiraling. "Do you still think I'm a crazy jealous fiancée?" you utter lightly, though your heart feels heavy when you ask.

San seems to feel worse at your question, as he looks at you with a pout and pulls your hand gently, maneuvering your body onto his. your head falls into the crevice of his neck. you move to look at him, until he places his hand on the back of your head softly, raking it through your hair.

"of course not! I was a dumb idiot who didn't know what he was talking about. if anything, I'm the one who gets crazy jealous." he grumbles sulkily at his last sentence, and you giggle when you realize he's not wrong. San can get jealous easily, always clinging onto you and nuzzling your neck for attention.

his words bring you comfort, and while San still has to make it up to you, you know the two of you can get through this. you place a soft kiss on his neck and hear his breath stutter before he squeezes you closer to him. you lift your head and stare at his face closely before kissing the corners of his red eyes. he blinks at each kiss and you smile at the endearing action before placing your lips on his.

yeah, the two of you would be okay. you were sure of it.

a/n: was supposed to be a drabble but i love happy endings:(

[romerona]

Stellar Veil

In which a star jumps.

Cregan Stark x reader????

Word count: 2K

1

The massive gates of Castle Black loomed behind Lord Cregan Stark and his retinue as they entered the fortress, the weight of their recent journey visible in their weary steps. The evening was growing colder, and the ancient walls of the castle seemed to echo with the murmurs of those who had gathered to witness the unfolding events.

His normally stoic expression strained with disbelief, Lord Cregan glanced sharply at Commander Ulric Rivers. “Shining?”

Ulric Rivers, still bearing the weight of the evening’s revelations, nodded gravely. "Aye, ma lord. The men who found her said she was glowing when they discovered her at the site of the comet's impact. And while it may seem a foolish claim, you must see her for yourself. She is—”"

"And you say this… woman is still inside the castle?" Cregan interrupted, his voice tinged with scepticism and irritation. His patience was wearing thin after the two-day trek to Castle Black. His voice carried an edge of annoyance, as though the very idea of such fantastical claims was an affront to his sense of duty. “Forgive me if I seem sceptical, but this sounds more like a tale from old wives’ tongues than a matter of import.”

Ulric Rivers met Cregan’s gaze with unwavering seriousness, the weight of his duty pressing upon him. “I assure you, ma lord, the report was given to me by reputable men. We found her at the crater, and the circumstances of her arrival and appearance warrant a thorough inquiry.”

Cregan’s brow furrowed in frustration, but he allowed himself a moment to consider the commander's words. The cold air of Castle Black seemed to press in on him, amplifying his weariness and scepticism.

“Very well,” Cregan said begrudgingly, his tone softening slightly. “Lead the way. I will see this for myself.”

Ulric Rivers nodded, gesturing for Cregan to follow. As they moved through the dimly lit corridors of Castle Black, the castle's ancient stones seemed to whisper of old secrets and long-forgotten tales. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation, the air heavy with the scent of burning torches and the faint hint of frost.

The heavy wooden door of the chamber where the woman was being kept stood firm, flanked by two solemn guards who stood at their posts with an air of vigilance. The torches on either side cast long shadows on the walls, creating an atmosphere of heightened tension.

Lord Cregan Stark, his eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of the guards, turned to Ulric Rivers with a curious frown. “Guards?”

Ulric Rivers, clearly feeling the weight of the evening’s developments, pursed his lips before responding. “For her protection, ma lord. Her arrival has stirred quite a reaction among the men. As you can imagine, most of them haven’t seen a woman in a long time. We even had an incident with the maester—”

Cregan’s gaze sharpened. “An incident?”

“Aye,” Ulric confirmed, his voice low and strained. “The maester attempted to examine her more closely than was wise. It seems the presence of the woman has unnerved him, and his curiosity got the better of him.”

Cregan’s eyes narrowed, his expression hardening like the ice-coated landscape outside. “I assume you’ve taken care of him?”

Ulric Rivers met Cregan’s cold gaze without flinching. “Indeed, ma lord. The maester has been... restrained for the time being.”

Cregan nodded, his demeanour one of grim satisfaction. “Very well. I will speak with her myself. I trust that the guards will continue to maintain their vigilance.”

“Of course,” Ulric Rivers replied, though his voice carried a hint of caution. “But speaking to her might prove to be a challenge, for she has yet to awaken.”

Cregan’s brow furrowed slightly. “Was she in bad condition when you found her?”

Ulric shook his head. “No. She was found intact. There were no signs of injury or distress. She simply hasn’t roused herself since we brought her here.”

“Very well,” Cregan said, his tone brooking no argument. “I will see her nonetheless. Perhaps there is something to be learned even from her stillness.”

Ulric Rivers nodded solemnly, stepping aside to allow Cregan to enter the chamber. As the Lord of Winterfell crossed the threshold, the two guards at the door gave him a respectful nod before resuming their watch.

Inside the chamber, the cold, hard walls seemed to close in, casting long shadows that danced with the flickering light of the lanterns. Cregan approached the bed where the woman lay, his heavy boots barely making a sound on the stone floor. As he drew closer, the full impact of her presence became evident.

The woman’s beauty was transcendent, beyond mere words. She lay as still as the night, her delicate features framed by cascading blue hair that seemed to shimmer with the faint light. The gown she wore flowed around her with almost liquid grace, its fabric catching the light in ways that defied the natural. Despite the stillness of her form, there was an undeniable sense of elegance and mystery that surrounded her.

Cregan, accustomed to the harsh realities of the North and the stark simplicity of Winterfell, found himself momentarily lost in the contrast of her otherworldly grace. The word “beautiful” seemed inadequate to describe her; it fell short of the reality of her presence.

He found himself reaching out tentatively, his fingers brushing the edge of her gown, feeling the unusual texture beneath his touch. There was something profoundly otherworldly about her, a mystery that beckoned to be unravelled.

As Cregan Stark tentatively reached out to touch the edge of the woman’s blue hair, his fingers barely grazing the delicate strands, a sudden movement caught him off guard. Her eyes, once closed in serene slumber, fluttered open, revealing eyes of an ethereal white that seemed to pierce through the dimness of the chamber.

Before Cregan could react, the woman’s eyes locked onto his with an intensity that took him by surprise. In a fluid motion, she sprang upright, her gown flowing around her like a cascade of moonlight. The suddenness of her movement was startling; Cregan barely had time to brace himself before she pushed him away with surprising strength.

Cregan staggered back, caught off guard by the force of her push. His hand instinctively reached for his sword, but he remained still, watching as the woman darted towards the closed doors with a grace that seemed to defy the physical limitations of the world around her. Her movements were swift and purposeful, driven by a clear, unspoken urgency.

"Stop!" Cregan called but was ignored as she reached the doors. She flung them open with a force that left them swinging wildly on their hinges.

The two guards stationed outside the chamber, alerted by the commotion and sudden opening of the door, sprang into action. They rushed to intercept her, their own training and reflexes barely matching the woman’s speed.

Cregan’s mind raced as he watched her flee down the corridor, her form disappearing into the shadows with a haunting grace. He turned to Ulric Rivers, who was just as startled as he was after witnessing the lady flee.

“After her!” Cregan ordered, his voice cutting through the chaos with the authority of a man used to commanding in dire situations. “We cannot let her escape.”

Ulric Rivers, though momentarily stunned, quickly recovered. “Of course, my lord,” he said, signalling to the guards and rangers who were already moving to follow the woman’s trail.

And Cregan Stark, his mind racing with a mix of frustration and confusion, followed the men. He moved through the winding corridors of Castle Black with purpose, his sharp eyes scanning for any sign of her.

He moved swiftly through the dimly lit corridors, his heavy boots echoing off the stone walls. The woman’s speed had proven a challenge, but the persistent pursuit of Cregan, Ulric Rivers, and the gathered rangers gradually began to bear fruit.

The woman, though swift, soon found her path narrowing as the men of the Night's Watch cut off her avenues of escape. The labyrinthine nature of Castle Black began to play its part; her attempts to evade capture grew increasingly frantic. The sound of her footsteps echoed off the cold stone walls, mingling with the shouts of the guards and the stead.

Cregan Stark, catching up with the group, took in the scene with a mixture of grim satisfaction and concern. The woman stood in the center of a wide, echoing hall, her form illuminated by the flickering torchlight. Her eyes, still a brilliant, otherworldly white, scanned the faces of those who had closed in on her. Her gown, now slightly disheveled, fluttered around her like a ghostly shroud.

“Step back,” Cregan commanded, his voice authoritative and firm. “Give her space.”

The men obeyed, creating a larger circle around the woman while maintaining their vigilance. Cregan approached her slowly, his expression a mask of controlled intensity. He needed to understand her intentions and the nature of her mysterious abilities.

“Listen to me,” Cregan said, his tone steady but imbued with a quiet authority. “You are safe now. We mean you no harm, but you must remain calm. We need to talk.”

The woman’s gaze met his, the ethereal whiteness of her eyes reflecting the dim light. For a moment, the intensity of her stare seemed to hold Cregan’s own gaze, as if challenging his command. Her breath came in shallow, rapid bursts, and despite her apparent weariness, she stood tall, her beauty undiminished by the exertion of the chase.

As the tension in the hall reached its peak, Cregan Stark was intently focused on the woman. The flickering torchlight cast eerie shadows, and he was about to address her once more when he noticed something that made his heart skip a beat: she was glancing at...

Without warning, the woman made a beeline for the nearest window.

Cregan's eyes widened in disbelief as she launched herself through the open window, her movements so graceful and sudden that he could almost hear the whoosh of her departure.

Cregan rushed to the window, his eyes straining to follow her movements as the icy wind howled through the opening. He looked down, noting with a grim sense of relief that the drop wasn’t too far—a few yards at most—and the snow below would likely cushion her landing. The sight of her disappearing into the snow-laden darkness filled him with a mix of frustration and concern.

"By the gods," Cregan exclaimed, his voice filled with both surprise and vexation. The night’s cold seemed to mirror his growing frustration.

Without wasting a moment, he turned to Ulric Rivers, who had arrived beside him. “Get men ready to follow her,” he commanded, his tone sharp and urgent. “We cannot let her vanish into the night. Mobilize the rangers and prepare horses if necessary. We need to be swift.”

Ulric, his face etched with determination, nodded quickly. “At once, my lord.”

As Ulric went to rally the men, Cregan took a deep breath, his gaze lingering on the snowy landscape below. The woman’s unexpected flight had revealed something deeper—a challenge that intrigued him more than it frustrated him...

A/N:

Where do you think Y/N going????

I hope you enjoyed this chapter lots of love ❤️

Constructive comments are always welcome 🩷

Tag list: @dracaryxzs

[dailymothanon]

I’m back 🐶 thank you for being patient, things are relatively back to normal! Anyways I got some drawings… it’s the actual D&D au now! I’ve got plenty of ideas, but for now this is Alaska and Maine! Alaska is a Druid, circle of stars though his race is unknown (I also don’t have any general cloth ideas for him). It is noted he is very bird-like tho, no wings because he can just have a wild shape/starry form with a pair. Maine is a half human half beast, he’s quite prickly because unfortunately even in this au he still has to deal with the northeast 😒 (long rants of ideas below)

I also have other ideas for other states, but I haven’t drawn them yet. For New Jersey I’m thinking like Nevada he is a fae folk but of a bee; and he was born with deformed and torn wings that resemble the Jersey devil’s. But due to his deformity his “hive” decided to just toss him out because they wanted a big strong community with no one holding them back 😒 so maybe Jersey had to barely survive out there on his own, and in later years NY could’ve found him (I like to think he is a human knight, merely because instead of his bat he can have a sword) and took him in 😌 (and they were roommates)

Another idea I’ve got is for Texas! I would like to think he is a mostly human gunslinger who is legally blind (not totally blind, tho still very blind) but sees thru heat & taste, much like a snake does. Maybe he collects bounties, I haven’t really thought much for his lore yet 🤔 but he is one of the best gunslingers out there despite his disability!

Cali is also one I’ve thought up, I think he could be a dragon rider. A funny idea is that he has a scam where he and his dragon makes this whole act where he pretends to be a princess damsel in distress, being held captive by the big bag dragon and people who come and try to “save” him but it just ends up with Cali robbing them 😒 (love me a big flawed character)

As for Alaska, he’s as stated, a Druid of the circle of stars! He comes from an unknown island (just imagine irl state of Alaska except disconnected to any continent tbh) that’s gatekeeped gaslighted girlbossed because they don’t want no colonizers or anything ofc. But Alaska grew up hearing all about the other outside lands and he wanted to go see it! So one day he ventured into the continents (the one that contains all the other states except for Hawaii) and yaddy yadda; and Alaska is actually very curious and friendly in this au because he doesn’t have the trauma of outsiders 😌 he has a pet(s?) dog with three heads (ofc, Balto Togo and Fido) to accompany him! I haven’t designed his starry forms yet btw. And also he doesn’t really know how his Druid magic works somehow 🧎 it’s mostly innate and learned behaviors and habits and traditions. It just comes naturally to him! This is the biggest difference between him and Mass with magic, think of Alaska’s Druid magic as traditional and natural, meanwhile Mass’s sorcery as artificial and learned and studied magic. So it’s hard to say who between the two is better at magic

Maine is a half-human-half-beast, he faces discrimination because of it and there aren’t much others like him in at home land. He mostly doesn’t care but the occasional person really gets to him. Not really sure why he is half beast yet tho I don’t have the lore for that. Mass keeps trying to pester Maine about learning magic, as Mass is one of the best magic users in his region (and he’s quite boastful/egotistical because of it) so he believes Maine might be really good too, and Mass wants him to be able to know it when in times of need, but Maine doesn’t really listen 🙄 though he is nimble and quite good at sneaking!

My last minor ideas is that Ginny is a great swordsman (race undecided), Mass is probably a human sorcerer, Nevada is a fae folk, Ny is a human knight, and Hawaii 🤔 some sorta sea/ocean critter maybe? Dunno yet. Anyways I hope these ideas are cool and that you guys like them! I also want to mention I probably wont post daily still, I wanna do what’s comfortable for me.