#the interactions the had in the game where polite sure but that was before they knew each other

[high-noon-raccoon]

For Moon

I know nobody follows me and nobody will really read this, but I feel the need to send out a little paper boat into the void so that this girl's memory endures out there, somewhere.

cw: pet loss under the cut

In 2008 my then-partner and I moved into a new condo and started new jobs, both of us still relatively fresh out of high school. Worried that our singleton cat would be lonely with us gone all day, I suggested that we get another cat to keep him company. My partner agreed, so one day I went down to the local humane society to see who was available.

As part of the adoption process, they have you browse the rows of cats and select a few to take with you into a side room, to see how you get along with them. I tagged around 6 or so. As I'm walking around looking for the last candidate, I pass a tiny, unremarkable tabby. She looks straight up at me and politely paws at the cage. Ok, I say, I guess I'll pick that one, and go into the side room to meet them.

They bring the cats in one by one, in the order I chose them. Most don't click with me, but candidate #3 is pretty friendly and I'm pretty sure she's the one I'm bringing home. Finally they bring in the tabby. She walks straight up to me with her tail held high, climbs up on my leg, and stretches up to lick my nose. I knew instantly that she was the one.

Tiegra, as the shelter called her, was apparently found behind a dumpster outside an apartment complex. When the shelter vet took her in for a spay, they found that she'd had a failed pregnancy and had to remove the kittens. It was a sad start. Eventually I was able to take her home and at some point renamed her to Moon. I don't know why. It just kind of stuck.

I'm hardly a stranger to cats. We had several on our farm, as did the kids around me growing up. I'd interacted with cats both feral and tame, purebred and mutt, pets and strays and everything in between and even then I'd never met a cat like Moon before. She was still very much a cat, sure, with all the various feline idiosyncrasies that make them both endearing and infuriating as pets. But even so, she was different. When I looked into her eyes I saw an intelligence there, a soul, that I'd never seen in any other cat I'd cared for before (and that I've yet to see in another cat ever). She looked at me like she knew me, like she'd always known me. And sometimes, when I reflect on how she was the one to pick me out at the shelter – not the other way around – it truly does feel as though she'd been waiting for me the entire time.

I took Moon with me when I ultimately split with that partner, and she became the one and only constant in my life that I had for over the next decade. She was with me though several relationships, moves, and jobs, through university, through trauma, and through abuse. Moon eagerly greeted me when I came home or got up in the morning (I know half of that was about food, but still), cuddled me on the couch while I studied or drew, stretched out by my keyboard while I gamed, and followed me around literally everywhere. She always had to be where the people were whether or not she chose to interact with them – but she always had to be with me in particular, and grew incredibly distressed and lonely whenever I was gone for too long.

As if she knew how utterly broke I was, Moon hated when I spent money on her. No bed, cat tree, or toy I bought her ever saw any use. She preferred papers and cardboard boxes, pieces of string, and loafing on the back of the couch. Her favorite playtime activity was booping my fingers through the holes in the laundry basket while I was putting clothes away. Her favorite treat was cream cheese.

Outside of a penchant for escape if the front door was left open, this was the best-behaved cat you ever saw – no marking or yowling, no jumping on counters, no property destruction -- just generally impeccably polite. She had a not-meow where she'd look up at you and make a clicking sound when she wanted to communicate; if she wanted your attention, she'd gently paw you; if she lost track of where I was, only then would she meow. She loved people and was generally pretty social with strangers, always at least curious enough to come up and say hi if not stick around for pets. Everyone who met Moon fell in love with her pretty much immediately. It was hard not to.

It's incredible how in-tune to an animal you get when you're with them for that long. Moon and I could read each other's body language like a book. I could communicate to her in blinks and kissy noises, but sometimes it felt like she understood my words, too. We were each other's first refuge when we were upset. Once, when I had to leave her overnight at the vet – I wish you could have seen the way her face lit up when I came back for her the next day, the palpable relief as she got to her feet. This was a cat. An animal. Something you're not supposed to anthropomorphize. And yet so much about her was so incredibly human.

I didn't find my forever home until 2021, with a partner who – just like Moon – I knew from the very beginning was just...right. Though he already had two dogs, he came to love Moon as his own. He was the one who looked after her and cared for her as she took a sudden turn for the worse while I was visiting my parents for Christmas. He was able to make her final days joyous and full of enrichment, even while having to laboriously clean up her messes. And mercifully, in the end, I was able to rush home and make it to her before it was too late. Once again, even though she lay there dying, she lit up upon seeing that I was home. Her relief was palpable. My partner said she'd been anxious every moment I'd been gone, that she'd been searching for me. He'd told Moon she needed to hold out until I made it home. And she did. Just barely, but she did.

Nothing sudden happened to Moon. She made it to either 18 or 19 years old, and at that age a cat's kidneys inevitably fail them. It's a slow, terrible, wasting thing and heartbreaking to watch. But a cat making it to that age is the equivalent of a human making it to triple digits. And I know she wouldn't have made it that far if I hadn't cared for her well. I stayed with her until the very end, even though it hurt. I knew she needed me there. I knew it's what she would have wanted.

But 18 or 19 years is literally half of my life. This creature wasn't just my pet, she was my sidekick, my familiar, a whole other part of me. And now she's gone. People have asked if I'm going to get another cat, and...I can't. At least not for a good long while. That's not a hole you can just fill with anything.

The house is so quiet without her now. Nobody's in my face begging for cream cheese with my morning bagel. Nobody will come to cuddle with me while I draw anymore.

Moon was so terribly special. And I will miss her every day.

Rest in peace, sweetie.

[wilimia]

Tp Link and Zelda hate each other. That's it that's the headcanon

[feathersandblue]

So, full disclosure, I haven't been a Solas fan before.

I am now.

And that's because of Veilguard and the many, many ways in which I felt let down by this game.

The aspect that bothers me most is the reduction of nuance and complexity.

Rook's hero's cakewalk (because “journey” really isn't the right word) is a ready-made path that offers no deviation at all and never challenges the player in any meaningful way.

Sure, you can spend some time pondering the pros and cons of saving Treviso or Minrathous. Ultimately, it makes no difference. Rook does their best, they just can’t be in two places at once.

Same with the companion character arcs. What does it mean if you decide to you turn Emmrich into a lich? For the most part, it's idle musing. Indulgence. He’ll be happy either way, there are no real stakes. Yeah, your actions do have consequences, just not the sort of consequences that make a substantial difference. It’s the illusion of choice – reduced to cosmetics.

The problems with decisions that cost nothing is that they don’t feel like an accomplishment. They also don’t allow for character growth. Rook doesn’t change, they remain static. Even the section in the Fade where Rooks faces their regrets is easy and comparatively lightweight. Varric was killed by Solas, Harding resp. Davrin died in combat and either Bellara or Neve was abducted by Elgar’nan. It’s not like Rook’s decisions actually caused these events, it’s not like Rook actually failed through a choice they had to make that turned out to be the wrong one. Everyone was there willingly and volunteered to fight the good fight. Rook’s regrets are not about real guilt, they are about feeling sad and guilty. And that – it needs to be said – is not the same thing. At all.

At the same time, the story carefully avoids any kind of true ethical dilemma.

It's not even about the lack of mean or edgy dialogue options; that’s just a symptom. The cause is the writers’ unwillingness to let realism intrude in Rook’s fairytale – the lack of anything that would require Rook to compromise on morals, or fight temptation. Rook is never faced with any sort of moral conundrum, or allowed to act out any kind of vice that realistic characters have. In its straight-path simplicity, Rook's story is apparently written for children and people who remain child-like in their yearning for simple, uncontested truths.

Of all the sorts of conflicts that a story can offer, Veilguard carefully avoids the most realistic and (in my opinion) interesting ones: Character vs. self and character vs. society, aka, politics. The game firmly refuses to go there. To the point where it creates a completely unrealistic consensus on all sides that eliminates yet another sort of conflict: character vs. character.

If Rook and their companions would talk politics, they’d all be on the exact same side. In a two party state, they’d all cast the same vote.

I am sure that there are many players who feel comforted and reassured by that fact, who sincerely believe that this is how stories should be written. That stories should reflect the world not as it is but as they think it should be. But for everyone who likes their stories a little more realistic, that lack of meaningful interpersonal conflict, that lack of real diversity which comes not from appearance but from different cultures and opposing viewpoints amounts to a frankly cringe-worthy, artificial and juvenile surface-level interaction between characters. Or, to phrase it differently: the diversity remains skin-deep and doesn’t extend to the philosophical, and even in the few instances where it does, it shies away from the political.

Which means that the only conflicts that remain are the most boring and stereotypical ones: character vs. monsters resp. the supernatural, where all foes are evil in the blandest way (Supremacist Venatori! Fascist renegade qunari! Power-hungry necromancers!). These conflicts are resolved through exploring maps and endless, repetitive combat.

The only thing that brings a bit of nuance to the game is Solas’s story. And there is an element of character vs. character in Rook’s and Solas’s relationship, but the sad truth is that what could have been a fascinating mirrored character journey falls flat for all the reasons already explained – because where Solas is a character as layered and controversial as it gets, Rook is anything but.

Solas’s story shows how even people with the best intentions and the greatest integrity are ultimately broken by what life throws at them, both by the decisions that are forced upon them and the choices they make on their own. It shows how a prolonged war is always a sunk cost fallacy: I’ve gone this far, if I stop now, it was all for nothing.

Rook’s victories, on the other hand, come without a cost – both in terms of moral corruption and in accountability. The guilt Solas bears is real. The fight against the titans, followed by his war against the Evanuris, requires compromising his own morals, one day at a time, one century after another, he’s trying to save the world yet doomed to fail. Sacrificing the spirits to win a battle after the war has gone this far? Every single war leader around the globe would make the same decision. In fact, all of them do: They do sacrifice the lives of others if it will help them win, they do send soldies into the trenches to die, whether these soldiers want to or not, and they are rarely, if ever, truthful about the reasons why.

In a certain way, the story of the spirit of wisdom turned flesh is reminiscent of the biblical Fall of Man: the original sin. Solas has fallen, and he’s broken. In trying to heal the world, he’s trying to heal himself. The burden is too heavy, the responsibility to great, the knowledge that he is responsible for all of it too devastating. Solas’s greatest conflict is character vs. self. It has the potential to be great. In a way, it is. It’s the single redeeming quality that, depending on your interpretation of what went on behind the scenes, the writers managed to salvage from the original concept of Dreadwolf or the lone pillar that withstood all their attempts to bring it down.

Only sadly, infuriatingly, in the end, that fallen hero’s ending is put into the hands of a protagonist who judges him from the perspective of someone who has never even stumbled – not because they are wiser, braver, or kinder. No, just because the writers were gracious – or cowardly? – enough to never let them fail.

The game gives Rook a moral high ground which isn’t earned in the slightest because Rook never had to walk even a quarter of a mile in Solas’s shoes. They don’t know what they would have done in his stead, they have no idea what it actually means to see the sorry shape the world is in and know that it was your hands that shaped it. And even where Rook might actually be culpable – the interruption of Solas’s ritual that freed the remaining Evanuris – anyone is quick to assure Rook that it wasn’t their fault.

Whatever regrets Rook carries, they’re born from self-doubt and trauma response. Survivor’s guilt, mostly. When compared to Solas’s immense guilt, Rook’s regrets are, for lack of a better term, insignificant. That Rook manages to face them doesn’t mean that they are more truthful or emotionally mature, it just means that Rook’s story is a tale for children and Solas’s is not.

It’s not that I’m necessarily opposed to the idea that the player decides Solas’s fate through their actions. It’s the injustice of it all that bothers me: The player is led through a game that provides a safe space for their character, one that is devoid of any interpersonal conflict and any ethical quandary. Rooks succeeds through kindness and heroism and taking their companions on team bonding exercises.

As if Solas could have won the war against the Evanuris if he’d taken the time to take his companions on coffee dates.

The juxtaposition – Rook vs. Solas – fails, simply because of this deep divide. Rook’s story is detached from reality and yet Rook gets to be Solas’s judge, jury, and executioner. On what grounds?

As I said, right in the beginning, I haven’t been a Solas fan before. But by the end of Veilguard, I was firmly, irrevocably, Team Solas, just because I was so annoyed that the narrative put Rook in a position of moral superiority. I detested my own character. Jesus, what a goody two-shoes! I was rooting for Solas simply because his story was so much more: a genuine tragedy, a study in complexity. Rook, on the other hand, remains bland, snotty, unchanged. Untried.

The thing is, I don’t believe that my reaction was one the writers had intended. I strongly feel that they didn’t mean for me to pick up on their double standard, that they expected me to walk away fully satisfied, convinced that Rook and The Team were the Good Guys because they went on picnics and petted the griffon, their final victory well-earned and just. If only Solas had had a Team and taken care of their emotional needs – he could have taken down the Evanuris with nary a scratch!

It’s all so very disingenuous.

Rook and, by extension, the player exist in a bubble of sanitized content. That is clearly deliberate. The player is meant to like it there. (In that sense, it’s only logical that they changed the title from Dreadwolf to Veilguard.) And clearly, it does resonate with a certain kind of their player base: mostly with people, I think, who would like their real life to be a bubble too and whose only experience with moral corruption is when they find it in others.

[theemporium]

[5.1k] an off-putting interaction with a supposed fan leaves jack cursed and, somehow, you find yourself in the middle of it. because acting like your enemy's girlfriend to not aggravate a curse is totally normal, right?

[find other fright night specials here]

.

It was well known by all that you and Jack Hughes did not like each other. 

If anything, that was an understatement about how the two of you felt about each other. It was one of those things that everyone knew: the sky was blue, the sun rose in the east and set in the west, and Jack Hughes was the bane of your fucking existence. 

You couldn’t quite remember a time when he wasn’t a pain in your ass. Since the day you joined the Devils team, the boy seemed to have it out for you and you returned the attitude. You were constantly at each other’s throats—much to the other boys’ entertainment—bickering and arguing and snapping. 

It was one of the safest bets you could make—especially on game days.

“Dude, I just had the weirdest fucking fan experience of my life!”

You didn’t hold back the urge to roll your eyes, your attention focused on the clipboard in your hands rather than the boy who had barrelled over and interrupted you. “Jesus, I thought players were meant to be mellow and calm before a game.” 

“Maybe that’s just what they tell you because you’re boring,” Jack retorted, flashing you a smile that was as irritating as it was charming. “And I wasn’t even talking to you. I was talking—”

“To my patient,” you bit out, turning your attention back to Dawson who was looking between the two of you with a slightly awkward but apprehensive expression. “Now, like I was asking before we were interrupted, the tension in your—”

“She was so weird,” Jack continued on, his lips twitching when he noticed the heavy sigh you let out but he kept going, facing forward towards Dawson as his shoulder brushed against yours. “I was coming out of the carpark and—”

Dawson’s nose scrunched up. “She was in the player carpark?”

“Yes!” Jack exclaimed, his eyes widening. “That’s what I’m saying, she already snuck in there and then she kept saying something but I couldn’t understand a word. So, I tried to politely—”

You snorted.

“—tell her that I was running late,” Jack continued, shooting you a quick but dirty look as he did. “But then she just started muttering to herself and waved her hands at me before walking away.” 

“Sounds like you broke a sweet old woman’s heart,” Dawson commented, grinning a little when Jack smacked his arm.

“Shut up,” Jack murmured, though his cheeks flushed pink in response. “I was already running late—”

“No surprise there,” you added.

“—I just didn’t have time,” Jack defended, once again shooting you a dirty look. “But it was weird, bro. She had some weird juju.”

Dawson pressed his lips together to hold back his laughter. “Juju?”

“Juju!” Jack repeated with a nod.

“I think you’re letting the guilt get to you, bro,” Dawson said, shaking his head in amusement. “You should head in to get ready for the game. Pretty sure Coach was asking Nico where you—”

“And you just let me stand here and talk?” Jack hissed, his eyes wide before he began rushing down the hallway towards the locker room. “What the fuck, Merc?!” 

“Always blaming everyone but himself,” you huffed, shaking your head. “Typical.”

Dawson grinned a little. “You know, people say that tension is a great aphrodisiac.” 

You shot him a blank look. “The only tension I am interested in is the kind in your muscles. Now, you gonna tell me how your hamstring is feeling or should I tell Coach to scrap you from the game?” 

Dawson quickly zipped his mouth shut.

…

It happened too fast for anyone to comprehend. 

There was five minutes left of the third period, the Devils were up one goal but it was still close. The Jets were putting up more of a fight than they anticipated, pulling moves and hits that were rough and dirty and tiring out the Devils far faster than they would have liked. 

Jack’s whole body was screaming, his heart pounding in his chest and his brain clinging onto the fact that it was almost over. Just a few more minutes until the final buzzer sounded, they just needed to make sure they didn’t let the other team score. That was all. Just tire them out in the last few minutes and they could clinch the win. 

He was so focused on thinking defensively, on thinking what would keep the Jets moving and chasing that he hadn’t even noticed the player barrelling towards him until it was too late. 

The referees blew the whistle too late, Jack’s whole body lurching with the hit as he felt himself get smacked up against the glass before he hit the ice. He felt as though someone had dunked his head underwater, his hearing muffled and his senses disoriented as he tried to scramble up onto his feet. As he tried to show that he was okay and he could keep playing. 

But the pain that ripped through his head when he tried to stand prevented him from doing so. 

“Give him space!” 

“Someone get the medics!” 

“Jack? You good?”

“He looks like he is gonna throw up!” 

Jack could feels hands on him. He could hear voices and he could hear the concern, even if he couldn’t lift his head to work out who was talking to him. He couldn’t do anything but groan and clench his eyes shut and hope that somebody would just make his head stop pounding.

He didn’t even remember how he got off the ice but he was grateful for the darkness in the medic room, the determination to finish the game as a win no longer at the top of his priority list. 

…

You knew the Devils took a chance on you when they offered you the job, but you liked to think you lived up to their expectations. 

You were fresh out of college, lost and intimidated and a degree in physiotherapy in your hands that you didn’t quite know what to do with. You had seen the opening in the Devils’ team by chance, and had applied for the sake of just having the experience of applying. You never considered getting an interview, or for them to like you. 

You never considered that they would take a chance on a student fresh out of college, offering a place under the current head of the team to shadow for a few years before fully taking over the position. 

But life had funny ways of working out and the job with the Devils was one of them.

You had been with the team for almost three years now. You were hardworking and diligent and you performed the roles of your job and beyond. You were a good employee. You knew you were. 

Which is why you were utterly baffled by the fact you were being dragged down the hallway instead of preparing your office for the players' cooldown massages and checkups. 

“What did I do? Are they angry at me? Was there a report I forgot to hand in?” You questioned the boy pulling you, nerves bubbling up in your stomach and you suddenly regretted the pretzel you ate during the second period. 

“No, no, it’s just—” Nico paused, his brows furrowing together. “I can’t really explain it. You just gotta see it.” 

“See what?” You questioned, your eyes darting over the boy’s shoulder to see him leading you towards the medic rooms. “Why are you bringing me here? Did someone pull something?” 

“It’s Jack,” Nico replied, like that explained anything.

“Did Jack pull something?” You asked, albeit a bit desperately. Your patience was already thin and the vague replies were starting to test you. “Nico, tell me what’s wrong? I thought Jack was just on concussion watch, Susan said—” 

“Just,” Nico paused outside the room, grimacing a little. “Just play along, yeah?” 

You opened your mouth, a dozen more questions on the tip of your tongue but it was that very moment the door swung open. 

“Baby, there you are! Where have you been?” 

You blinked, staring at Jack who was currently sitting up on one of the medic beds, grinning happily at you. Then your eyes shifted to the team doctor who looked sheepish, a similar expression shared by the coaching staff beside her. And finally, your eyes landed on Luke who was standing beside Jack’s bed, looking like he was seconds away from laughing (an expression you weren’t expecting on the brother of someone who took a very bad hit).

Nico cleared his throat, nudging you forward. “Found her!”

You stumbled forward, still utterly confused at the odd looks you were receiving from everyone in the room. “What? Was something broken in the hit or something?”

“Baby,” Jack groaned, though it sounded fond and sweet as he reached his hand out towards you. “Stop thinking about work for two seconds, will you? C’mere, I missed you. They said you were too busy to see me just after the hit.” 

You blinked. “Are you talking to me?” 

Jack raised his brows in amusement. “Is there another girlfriend I have that I’ve forgotten about?” 

“Girlfriend?” You repeated, your jaw almost hitting the ground. “I am—”

“Very much his girlfriend who loves him very much,” Nico interrupted, stepping forward and giving you a look you were starting to understand. “And who must be very concerned after he took that big hit that could have gone badly and could have affected his memory.”

Your lips parted slightly as everything clicked.

“Geez, Hisch, way to look at things in a glass half empty kinda way,” Jack laughed before lifting his hand out to you. “Baby, m’fine. Don’t listen to him.”

You had half the mind to shoot Luke a glare as you closed the distance between you and took Jack’s hand in yours, ignoring the snickering from the younger Hughes. You swallowed harshly, turning to look at the team doctor instead of Jack.

“So, doc, what’s the consensus?” 

The team doctor gave you a sheepish smile. “He’s been cursed.” 

You blinked. “Yeah, no shit.” 

“Shit, can you tell?” Jack frowned, lifting his other hand to touch his face. “Do I have warts on my face or something? Oh god, do you still think I’m hot?” 

“I—” You flashed him a slightly strained smile. “Still hot, babe.” 

“Oh, it gets better,” Luke mumbled under his breath. 

Jack beamed in response. 

“The hit should have been a standard hit, the Jets player wasn’t even skating fast enough to cause the…damage Jack is experiencing,” the doctor continued. “We suspected foul play and did a few additional tests. It seemed like Jack had a curse manifesting throughout the game but the brunt of the curse didn’t hit until mid-play. And whoever cursed him seemed to have it out for him because it took the environment around him and made it worse—hence, the Jets player’s hit seeming harder, the force he hit the glass and the pain caused by the hit.” 

You frowned. “So, what do we do? How do we…un-curse him?” 

“You can’t,” Luke jumped in, smiling far too wide for your liking. “Doc says we just have to let the curse play out.” 

“I hardly feel cursed,” Jack said dismissively. “What, a rough hit? That’s it? Some curse. Everything else is normal.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. 

“Until then,” the doctor continued. “I strongly advise doing anything that would…agitate the curse. It could make things worse. We got lucky with the…limited inconveniences.” 

Despite her cryptic words, you understood the message loud and clear. 

Play along and be his girlfriend until his memory returned to normal or else god knows what will happen.

You just wondered what you did to deserve being cursed along with him. 

…

“I bet it was that old lady before the game.”

You lifted your head to find Jack lounging on the massage bed in your office, staring at the ceiling as he continued to contemplate. You had mentioned to him that you needed to finish some paperwork before leaving for the day. 

You expected him to head back to his apartment with Luke, not stay behind with you.

Luke just cackled when Jack decided to stay with you. 

Your brows furrowed together. “Who?”

“The weird old lady that I told you and Dawson about before the game,” Jack said, turning his head to look back at you. “The one who I said had bad juju?” 

And of course he would remember that, just not the fact you weren’t his girlfriend.

Stupid curse. 

“Oh, yeah,” you nodded, leaning back in your seat. “So, what? You didn’t take a photo with her and she curses you? Seems a bit harsh.” 

“Maybe she didn’t like the fact I told her I wasn’t available,” Jack teased, winking at you.

It took every tensed muscle in your body to stop you from scrunching your nose in response. 

“Seems likely,” you replied with a strained smile on your face once more. “Right, I’m done here. Do you want a lift back?” 

Jack laughed, pushing himself to sit up. “Yeah, unless you expect me to walk back to your place and meet you there.”

You froze. “You’re coming back to mine?”

“Duh,” Jack said, his brows furrowing a little at your reaction. “Like I do after every game, babe. This isn’t new. Are you feeling okay?” 

“Yeah, just—” You waved him off, focusing on tidying up your desk instead. “Tired. I think I slept badly.” 

“Aw, baby,” Jack cooed, and it was odd hearing it in a sweet, concerning way rather than the condescending tone you were used to. “S’fine, you’ve got me tonight. Bet you’ll sleep like a baby.” 

“Definitely,” you agreed, making a mental note to strangle Luke the next time he came in for a deep muscle massage.

…

“Uh, where’s your clothes?” 

Jack glanced over at you, that stupid grin on his face that still looked unbelievably fond. It felt wrong to be on the receiving end of it. 

“M’getting ready for bed,” he said simply. “I can’t sleep in a shirt, babe, you know this.” 

“Right, of course I do,” you nodded. “I was just testing you. Making sure you have no more memory problems.” 

“That’s sweet, babe, but I am okay,” Jack assured you, climbing under the covers and settling on the right side of the bed, like he somehow fucking knew you preferred the left. “The doc cleared me and I’ve felt fine since. You know I’d tell you if I felt like something was wrong.”

“Yeah, I just…worry,” you answered after a few moments, trying to calm the thoughts racing through your head as you climbed into the bed next to him. You kept telling yourself to relax, to just pretend like this was normal, to do what the doctor said and play along with the curse so it doesn’t get worse.

But it was hard to believe you were sharing a bed with the boy when he—mutually—hated your guts a few hours ago.

“C’mere,” Jack hummed, pulling you into his embrace with ease and ignoring the way your body seemed to tense at the contact between you both. “Just relax. It’s hockey, hits happen. You know that.” 

You swallowed. “Curses don’t, though.” 

“True, but we will get through that too,” Jack said with so much confidence. “We’re a team, remember? I’ve got your back and you’ve got mine.”

Your eyes widened as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Mhm. A team. That’s us.” 

Jack grinned against your head. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Night, Jack.” 

…

You woke up the following morning to an empty bed.

For a moment, you thought the whole thing was a bad dream. You thought that it was some twisted nightmare your brain tormented you with, something that would haunt you for the next few days but ultimately forget. 

For a moment, you let out a sigh of relief. 

And then you heard a crash from the kitchen, followed by a familiar voice whispering ‘shit’ and realised it was not, in fact, a dream.

You weren’t even sure what you expected to find when you threw the covers off and quickly rushed towards the source of the noise. But finding Jack, half dressed, with two plates on the counter with a sizzling pan on the stove was not it. 

“Oh hey, you’re up,” he beamed once he spotted you lingering in the doorway. “We didn’t have much in the fridge, so we should probably do a grocery run soon. But I managed to whip up something edible.” 

You blinked. “You cook?”

Jack groaned but there was still a smile on his face. “Babe, I’m getting better. I only set the toaster on fire twice in the last few months!” 

You blinked again, your brain far too tired to even stay with the conversation.

“Your coffee is in the fridge,” Jack said, turning back around to focus on not burning whatever was in the pan. “I didn’t make it, so I promise it tastes good. It’s from that cafe down the road you like.”

You knew the cafe well. It was one of your favourites and one you frequently bought coffees from, especially before work. You knew it wasn’t the most shocking thing in the world that he knew of its existence, but the fact he somehow seemed to know it was your favourite and choose the correct order threw you off.

“Thanks,” you murmured, taking a sip of the iced coffee whilst Jack just grinned at you. 

“You’re snappy before coffee,” he teased. 

You shuffled towards the stools by the counter, settling down as you watched the boy closely, like somehow staring at him would reverse whatever curse that old lady put on him. It didn’t. Instead, you were just blatantly staring at the shirtless boy in your kitchen like he was an alien.

He almost felt like one, if you were being honest.

“So,” you spoke up after a few moments. “What are your plans for today?” 

Jack glanced over his shoulder, shooting you an odd look. “Are you sure you’re not the one who got hit last night? We have the charity event with the other boys, remember? The picnic in the park? Don’t tell me my date is bailing on me.”

You laughed nervously. “Of course not! Just…testing you again!”

“Well, you can chill with the tests,” he assured you, pressing another fucking kiss on your forehead that made you feel warm and gooey and confused as he placed your plate in front of you. “M’okay, baby, promise. Also, I promised Nico we would bring something so we should probably stop by some bakery and grab cookies, or something.” 

You only hummed in response, fighting the urge to blurt out the truth and somehow relieved that you wouldn’t have to be spending the day alone with him.

…

“You. Here. Now.” 

Luke blinked, his brows furrowed in confusion as he stared at you. He pointed his finger towards himself and you could have rolled your eyes if you weren’t so desperate. 

“Yes, you, idiot. Hurry up.” 

However, Luke was a little bitch so he slowly made his way over to the tree you were currently hiding behind, a plate of finger foods in his hand that he was snacking away on. 

“Sup?” 

You stared at him blankly. “You’re already on thin ice.” 

“Aw,” Luke cooed, a teasing grin growing on his face. “Was the night with Jack that bad?” 

“He knows things!” You hissed under your breath, a bit more frantic that you would have preferred. “We need to find this fucking witch, I can’t do this anymore.” 

“It’s been less than twenty-four hours,” Luke pointed out.

“It’s freaky as fuck,” you retorted. “He knows things about me that a normal boyfriend would.” 

“Wow, it’s almost like magic,” Luke deadpanned.

“I hate you.” 

“Rude way to talk to your possible future brother-in-law,” Luke grinned, letting out a squeal when you pinched his side. “Ow, ouch! Okay! I’ll try to keep him away from you as much as I can.” 

You sighed. “Thank you.” 

…

It took twenty minutes before that plan flopped. 

Jack snuck off after an interview he had done with Luke for the Devils social media team, hardly giving his brother a chance to come up with an excuse to hang out on the other side of the park before he hunted you down. 

You almost screamed when a body flopped down on the blanket beside you, Jack’s grinning face in your line of vision as he settled his head on your lap. 

“Hey, stranger,” he greeted, lifting his hand to tuck some hair behind your ear. “You’ve been quiet today.” 

“Just tired,” you said, the response almost automatic at this point. 

But Jack frowned. “I think you might be getting sick. We should pick up some soup from that deli place you like, down in Hoboken. Maybe pick up some tea too.” 

Your throat felt tight but you nodded nonetheless, hoping your surprise wasn’t obvious on your face.

Fucking magic. 

…

When you woke up the next morning, Jack still thought he was your boyfriend.

The next day was the same. 

So was the one after that. 

And the days following. 

Before you knew it, it had been well over a week—honestly closer to two weeks—and the curse seemed well and truly cemented in place. It was still an absolute mind-fuck, and not just for you but everyone on the team. 

It felt like one big secret you were all holding back on telling Jack, letting him live in some weird and ignorant bliss. The worst part was that he was so unsuspecting of the people closest to him lying to his face. He didn’t question the snickers Dawson or Luke would sometimes let out when the two of you showed up to work together. Or the way Nico seemed to actively avoid talking about the relationship (despite Jack insisting it was his friend’s shove that prompted him to ask you out). Or the fact you had been ‘sick’ for the last two weeks and, therefore, unable to kiss him.

Though, that one was easy with hockey players and their odd superstitions and need to prevent any possible scrap from a game. 

He was so trusting and gullible when it came to the people around him, you almost felt bad. 

The emphasis being on almost because by some weird and twisted turn of events, you didn’t mind it. Not really. Not after the initial weirdness and tension of it wore off. Maybe you had been single for too long or maybe you were mourning something you had never truly experienced, the love and attention of someone who notices, who sees you, who cares about keeping you happy. 

It felt wrong, like you were exploiting Jack for emotions and feelings he didn’t organically have. But it also felt too nice to tell the truth, to tell him that you weren’t really his girlfriend and lose the benefits you had gained over the last two weeks.

It was weird seeing this side of Jack. Not a bad weird, just a different kind. 

A kind you knew you would have to give up once the curse was gone.

“M’gonna be a bit longer, Dawson wanted to run some more drills outside of practice,” Jack said as he lifted himself off the massage bed, flashing those puppy dog eyes at you that made your stomach twist in endearment (when once upon a time, they pissed you off). “Wait for me? I’ll pay for your lunch.” 

“You don’t have to bribe me, you know,” you snorted but your eyes fluttered shut as he rounded your desk, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “But deal. We’re getting burritos.” 

He beamed, shaking his head fondly. “Fine. I’ll catch you in a few hours.” 

You watched him scurry out of your office, probably running through the corridors to get to the locker room before he was reprimanded for being late. He had even arrived two hours earlier than he was meant to, just because he wanted to chill in your office whilst you worked. 

It shouldn’t have made your heart flutter when you knew it wasn’t really Jack but it did.

It really fucking did.

…

It was an hour or so later when you couldn’t ignore your stomach rumbling anymore. 

There was still another two hours before Jack would step off the ice, heading towards the locker room to shower and change before the two of you could grab some food. And you sure as hell could not wait that long. 

You let out a groan, your joints clicking as you stood up from your desk for the first time in a few hours. You ignored the voice in the back of your head that reminded yourself to try walking around a bit more between writing reports before you headed into the hallway, deciding to treat yourself to the vending machines closer to the players’ locker room (it had better snacks, despite what management liked to tell everyone).

You had been standing in front of the vending machine with your brows furrowed in contemplation that you hadn’t even noticed an old lady approaching you.

“You’re the girl.” 

You jumped out of your skin, an unflattering noise of surprise leaving your lips as you stared at the woman with wide eyes. “I, uh, what?” Your brain took a few seconds to catch up. “I mean, I am a girl. I don’t know about being the girl.”

The woman smiled and it sent shivers down your spine. “Hm, yes, I can see it now. His aura lingers on you.” 

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, but the magic remains. It is strong. Pungent,” she continued, tsking as she shook her head. “You delay the inevitable!” 

Your eyes widened as you took a step back on instinct. “You’re the one that cursed Jack, aren’t you?”

“Curse?” Her smile became knowing, sneaky, disconcerting. “Oh, honey, there was no curse.”

You frowned. “Uh, ma’am, with all due respect, I find that hard to believe considering he—” 

“All I did was give him what he wanted,” she said, so simply and so directly that it caught you off guard. “His deepest desire to be his, though I assumed that would be a game win. The losing streak was quite off-putting.” 

“I—” You blinked. “So, wait. You’re a fan?” 

“Yes,” she stated. “Was it not obvious?” 

You bit back the sarcastic response that wanted to leave your lips. “And what? You cursed him to win the game?” 

“That was my mistake for assuming it was what he desired the most,” she replied, that almost-creepy smile on her face. “It seems his deepest desires lay with you.” 

You stared at the woman in front of you. “You’re joking, right?” 

“I do not joke,” she stated bluntly. 

“So…the way he’s been acting…” you trailed off, your mind racing with a million different thoughts.

“All himself,” the woman answered. “Think of the magic as the confidence boost he needed to get there.” 

“He likes me?” 

“Yes.”

“Like, properly?” 

“Yes.” 

“And everything he’s been doing? That’s been done by him and not influenced by magic? Not even the tidbits of knowledge?” 

“My dear, it sounds like you have been very oblivious to how this man feels about you.” 

You shot her a look, unsure how you felt about being called out by the very witch who ‘didn’t curse’ the boy you had been calling your boyfriend for the last two weeks. 

“Oh my god.” 

“Though, it seems like his change in relationship with you has been what he needed to get him out of his losing slump, so I guess we both win.”

You frowned a little. “You’re one odd lady.” 

She shrugged in response. 

“How did you even get in here?” 

…

“Run it again!” 

Jack’s muscles were screaming at him as he pushed himself across the ice, pushing himself to go faster, faster, faster like the coach wanted as he carried the puck on his stick. His eyes were laser-focused on the players around him, on dodging the defencemen lined up in front of him and skating around them to get to the goal. 

He didn’t let himself relax until the sound of the puck hitting the back of the net hit his ears.

“JACK!” 

He turned his head, expecting to find one of his teammates skating towards him to celebrate his goal in their makeshift drill. But instead of Nico skating towards him with his arms in the air or Dougie prepared to smack him on the back for dodging his attempts, he instead found you standing by the tunnel. 

You looked flustered and on edge and panicked, and it made his spine straighten.

Jack dodged the others, ignoring whatever the coaching staff were barking at them as he made his way towards you at a speed that you would have disapproved of if you knew how sore his muscles were.

“What? Are you okay? Did something happen?” He asked frantically, confused as to why else you would have interrupted a training practice. 

“You like me,” you said to him.

His brows furrowed in confusion. “Uh, yeah, babe. I do. What are you—”

But before he could continue, you grabbed his face with both hands and tugged him closer. He stumbled a step or two before his lips were pressed on yours. His surprise disappeared after a few seconds, his body melting into the kiss and his brain forgetting whatever he was trying to ask moments ago.

He was still in a daze when you pulled away, your hands still holding his face and your gaze completely focused on him, like you were expecting to see something different. 

“Do you still like me?” You asked, a little breathless.

And he felt winded. 

Winded by an influx of memories and realisations and emotions that were all his own. Winded by the magic coursing through him, ringing obvious and evident to his body despite two weeks of feeling nothing. Winded by the look on your face, a hint of fear and hope shining in your eyes as you awaited his response.

“Yeah,” he rasped, his cheeks burning hot. “I do.”

“Okay,” you nodded, your lips twitching upwards. “Good.” 

And then you kissed him again. 

However, this time it was the shrill of a whistle that broke you two apart, the annoyed voices of the coaching staff telling Jack to stop slacking and continue on with his training ringing loud and clear through the rink. 

“We still have a lot to talk about,” you said as Jack began to skate back towards the rest of the group. “Like, a lot.”

He grinned at you. “We still on for burritos after?” 

You laughed. “Only if you’re still playing.” 

“It’s a date, baby,” Jack winked. 

It was well known by all that you and Jack Hughes did not like each other. 

But maybe a little bit of magic was the shove the two of you needed to realise that wasn’t quite true. 

.

[gracieheartspedro]

Your Needs, My Needs

I : Strawberry Wine

a masterlist of how you can help gaza

the prelude to this series

pairing: cowboy!joel x f!reader (no outbreak)

description: joel fixes your toilet but you can't help but yearn for more time with him. so you invite him to dinner and try to win his stomach? aka love?

word count: 3.2k words

warnings: there is no smut in this part. still MINORS DNI! no use of y/n! vague talk of reader's old life before texas, no real description of the reader, reader does have anxiety/mental illness that is not fully recognized/diagnosed, mentions of eating food, reader lives alone, reader got MONEYYYY, mentions of joel's ex wife (gasp), alcohol consumption, smoking cigarettes, kissing, flirting. all the fluffy stuff <3

author's note: hey...hey.... how y'all doing?? i'm so so so sorry this has taken so long. my life has been crazy for the last like 4 months and I'm finally getting settled into my life again. I miss y'all and I miss writing, so HERE I AM! I'm hoping everyone who wanted me to tag them months ago is still cool with me tagging them 4 months later lol. okay, lemme know what you think xoxo

Joel comes and goes for days. The first day he returns, he inspects your toilet again and tells you he has the wrong tools. You discuss a game plan and by his initial projections, your toilet should be fixed the next day. But when he fails to come by in the morning, you decide to call the phone number on the post-it note he left for you the day before. 

The phone rings and you get an answering machine of a younger girl telling you to leave her and Dad a message after the beep. When the line lets out a long ding, you breathe out the random croak in your throat. 

“Uh, hey, Joel, it’s me. Just seeing if you’re stopping by today. If not, that’s fine, I’ll be home all day today and tomorrow. Okay, uh, bye.”

Hours go by and you find yourself pacing, regretting your decision to leave him a message. What if he gets it and thinks that you’re crazy? 

Ever since you had made his acquaintance, you felt completely reliant on interacting with him. It may be due to the fact that you haven’t socialized with anyone else in months. You were very good at isolating yourself, but lately, it’s been eating you alive being so alone. Now that you had this big house, the silence felt almost too quiet. Joel’s southern drawl and straightforward responses gave a bit of light back to your life. 

Around dinner time, your landline rings. You practically fall over your couch racing to pick it up, hoping it was him. 

“Howdy neighbor,” He grunts through the phone, “Sorry I didn’t come by today, hope ya didn’t miss me too much.”

You let out a dry laugh, trying not to sound too giddy about him following up with you. You were borderline pathetic. 

“No, I just wanted to make sure you were still alive,” You manage to get out, “You are still alive right?”

“Still kickin’, just busy as all get out. ‘M fixin’ to head to your place now if you’re not busy.”

You look down at your pajamas and start to nod. It’s not like he can see you through the phone, but you are reacting to his words like he’s right in front of you. 

“Sure thing, I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

-

“So… It’s really just you here? All by your lonesome?”

He’s messing with his toolbox, searching for the one tool he needs to fix the toilet. You stir your fresh brewed tea, ensuring none of the sugar clumps up at the bottom of the mug. You had offered him some, but he politely declined, telling you that he had a big dinner.

You take a sip, testing the sweetness. “Just me. How about you? Just you and your daughter, right?”

He laughs heartedly, turning towards you from where he’s squatted. You look at him with curious eyes, unsure if you asked the wrong question. He stands up, a wrench in his hand, a smile still spread across his face. 

“Her mama left town with her new boyfriend about 5 years ago. Wanted the city life, not the life I gave her. It’s been just me and her ever since.”

So he’s single. You think to yourself. 

You realize the laugh was probably because of how absurd and new it must be for someone to ask him about his life. He grew up here and you are positive everyone here already knew all about his business. You are a breath of fresh air for him. 

Before the silence becomes awkward, you speak up. “City life ain’t worth a shit.”

“Yeah, she’s different. Won’t speak ill of her ‘cause that’s my bosses’ mama. She sees her now and again. They are just very different.” 

The conversation comes easy with Joel. While the first couple of interactions you two shared were a bit strained, after days of small talk, you realize he’s the truest Southern gentleman you’ve ever interacted with. Polite with a little bite. He never speaks ill of others, except his brother. He loves to pick on Tommy. He seems like an attentive father. He loves to pick at you, always pointing out your Northern tendencies. Your horrible driving. Your accent and your speech patterns. But he’s also very complimentary. A couple of days ago, he remarked how nice your perfume was when you were standing close to him. It made your heart skip a beat. 

And on top of all of those things, he’s very easy on the eyes. 

“That’s mighty fine of you not speaking ill of your ex,” You try to drag out the silly Southern saying, which causes him to chuckle again. You smack your lips before continuing, “Wish I could do the same.”

You are not sure what he’s doing to the tank of your toilet, but you watch him strain to get a piece out of the corner with the wrench he has. He clenches his teeth, turning the piece to the left to loosen it. 

“Exes are exes for a reason,” He grunts, fiddling with some more things in the tank, “I ain’t too hung up on datin’ right now. I got my girl and my horses.”

“And now you got me, your annoying neighbor who almost crashes into your horses and asks you to fix toilets.”

He breathes out loudly, “Yeah, ‘nother pain in my ass. Just what a man needs.”

-

The toilet is fixed too quickly. You had busied yourself with other small cleaning tasks that when Joel finds you in the kitchen doing dishes, he startles you. It took him about 15 minutes to finish the job and you had thought you could at least finish up the dishes you made from dinner. 

“‘M all finished up. Gotta get back home to do some rounds at the stables,” He says as he waltzes over to your paper towel holder. He grabs a sheet and begins to wipe his damp hands, “Anythin’ else for me today?”

You turn off the running water, going down a list of fixes you could ask him to do. You decide it’s probably best to just ask him to swing by another day to help you with other things. 

“No, thank you though, Joel. I am sure I’ll be by to ask for more help,” You chuckle, shaking your hands dry, “I owe you dinner or something.”

As you say it, it feels like all the air leaves your lungs. He’s staring at you and there’s a glint in his eyes. You are not that good at reading people, mostly because you are deathly afraid of being wrong. His eyebrows raise as he leans against the counter near you. He’s so close and in your space, but you try to push the thought of him coming onto you out of your mind. 

“What’do you got on the menu tomorrow?”

His voice is kind of husky which makes your brain draw a blank. You wipe your hands on your pants before crossing the kitchen to check your fridge. You glance through your ingredients, settling for the only dinner item you can conjure up that his southern palette may like. 

“Baked chicken and vegetables?”

He nods, tossing his paper towel into the bin beside you. “Yeah, I've been needing a home-cooked meal. Think I could come over at like 5? Tomorrow?”

You recollect a time when a guy showed interest in wanting to hang out with you outside of work. It had been years and he was not nearly as attractive as the man in front of you. 

You nod slowly, trying not to look too robotic due to your nerves. “Sure thing, cowboy.”

-

You did not know what to wear. You contemplated going into town to see what the local boutiques had but you ran the risk of Joel seeing you out. You didn’t even know if this was a date. 

You settle on a sundress you have owned since high school. It’s the perfect length and while your mind goes to wanting to impress Joel, you also need to be comfortable. 

You cleaned your house, adding some new decorations to your living room walls. You even clean your sheets and make sure your bedroom is vacuumed. 

When the time comes for Joel to arrive, you pace the kitchen anticipating the doorbell. You already had all the food prepped and ready to put in the oven. The vegetables have been cut and seasoned. Everything was just the way you needed it to be. 

Joel gets there 5 after your scheduled time. When you welcome him at the door, his hair is styled and you can tell he put on his “fancy jeans”. 

What you didn’t expect was the bouquet of flowers he had in his hands. 

“Afternoon, neighbor,” He begins before extending the floral arrangement towards you, “My girl said I had to bring you something nice. Somethin’ bout being a gentleman.”

You smile widely, giving flowers all your attention. Even with the fragrant bouquet, you get a whiff of his sandalwood cologne. 

“Nice to see you cleaned up for me, cowboy. Come on in, dinner is about to get put in the oven.”

-

You catch him scanning you up and down when you place the spread of chicken and vegetables on the table. He was in the midst of talking about his daughter and her band fundraiser, but he completely halted when you took notice of his staring. 

You settle into the dining room chair across from him, waiting for him to continue, but he doesn’t. 

“She needs more sponsors?” You break the silence, wanting to move away from the sudden awkwardness. 

He swallows, reaching for the serving fork, “Oh, yeah. She needs to reach a certain goal to go on her senior band trip.”

You try to avoid his wandering gaze again, focusing on organizing your plate of vegetables. “Where are they going?”

“Disney. She ain’t never been out of Texas, so she really wants to go.”

You remember all the trips your family said they’d go on to Disney, but they never did. Your father could not stand being around his own children, let alone other people’s children. You think about how he used to complain about your constant questions, all the times he completely ignored you for your brother. You start to spiral, the anxiety creeping up in the back of your throat. You push your chair out from under the table, excusing yourself for a moment. You go to the bar you have set up in the living room and grab the only sweet wine you have. Strawberry. You grab two glasses from the top of the setup and walk back to Joel. 

“Forgot wine,” you mumble, setting a glass in front of him, “You want some?”

He is already picking at his chicken, “Yeah, I’ll take some.”

You are quiet as you uncork it expertly, pouring it into each of the glasses. Joel watches you like a hawk. You can tell he’s trying to read your expression, so you try your best to remain neutral even though your hands are shaking. 

You place the bottle in the middle of the table, making sure it’s easily reachable. 

You finally sit back down, sipping the red liquid. The strawberry flavor isn’t very strong, it’s more like a hint of the berry. You had gotten the bottle from a roadside stand in Kentucky. An older lady who must have owned a vineyard nearby was selling them for $5 each. You told yourself you would only use it for a special occasion. This event seemed fitting. 

Wine always makes you flushed, but you are always a bit flushed around Joel. Even more so when he’s watching you so intently. 

After a couple of sips, you finally rest your shoulders and begin to eat your dinner. 

“I could sponsor her,” you finally say, returning to the previous conversation. For some reason, you felt obligated. Joel quickly retaliates, shaking his head as he chewed on your roasted veggies. 

“You ain’t gotta do that, doll.” 

The nickname rings in your ears. You take another sip of wine. You can tell Joel notices your reaction because he smirks with his mouth full. 

“But I want to, Joel. I’m sure she has worked hard her high school career, she deserves to have fun.”

He hums, but still shakes his head negatively, “I can’t let you just pay for-”

“You can and you will,” You enjoy another bite, smirking at your defiance towards him. He looks perplexed. “So when is this fundraiser? Is there like a dinner or something?”

He finally caves, “This Friday at the school. It’s a dinner and auction. I guess if the kids don’t find their sponsors, some local businesses are willing to sponsor them.”

“Are you going?”

“Yeah,” He cuts up his chicken, “I guess you’re gonna come along, too, if you’re givin’ my girl all that money.”

“Does a check work?”

He sits back in his chair, already finishing off his wine, “You seriously don’t have to-”

“What are neighbors for, Joel?”

He nods, “You mean friends.”

You furrow your brows, trying to let your hazy mind find a time when you called him your friend. This was a new development.

“Friends, huh?”

He pours more in his glass, “Well, I’d like to think so.”

The wine is hitting your system and you realize your arms feel lighter. You grab the stem of your glass and tip it up to down the rest of the alcohol. Joel’s eyes are trained on you, waiting for a snarky response. 

“Do friends stare at other friends like that?” You pour more wine for yourself. You realize he’s done eating so before he can respond to your flirtation, you speak up again, “You done with that?”

He looks down at his empty plate, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Yes friends look at other friends like that, or you’re done eating.”

He grins, “‘m done eating, doll.”

-

You two find your way out to the rocking chairs. They were left there by the previous owners and you could tell they were probably as old as you. 

You had another full glass of wine, sipping it as Joel lit up a cigarette. He admitted it was only a bad habit when he was drinking, which was rare. “Sarah gets onto me when I have even one beer. So this has gotta be between us two.”

You swirl the crystal, watching him carefully take a drag of the stick. “Your secret is safe with me, cowboy.”

He giggles as he lets out a huff of smoke. “I haven’t had secrets in a long time. Guess I’m lucky it’s with the town stranger.”

The statement hits you in the very pit of your settling tummy. You furrow your eyebrows, leaning forward towards him. Your chairs are not that far away from one another, so this is probably the closest you have ever been to him except for that one moment in the kitchen. 

“Luckiest man in Texas that’s for sure,” You muster, averting your eyes. You could not stare into his beautiful brown eyes for too long. “Having the privilege of getting me out of my head. No man has done that in years.”

“What? You not good at letting loose?”

You shake your head, knowing that he did not understand what you meant. You take a moment to inhale, finally glancing up at him again. “I think I may just be cursed.”

“Now, why do you say that?”

You contemplate spilling the beans. Letting your heart fall onto your sleeve after years of shielding it from anyone who looks your way. Your lips part, but no words come out. It’s just the sounds of the cicadas. 

“As soon as something is good, it gets bad somehow. I don’t even get a moment to savor it.”

You feel the statement down to your bones. The last time you felt settled in your own life, the rug got pulled out from under you. You cannot remember a time when you truly felt present in a special moment. You always felt like you were floating outside of your body, watching things happen and never really truly feeling anything. 

You don’t expect him to lean closer to you, “Whatever happened before you got here, you ain’t gotta worry about it anymore. You obviously put distance between you and what happened for a reason. Let this little side of the world be your home now.”

You push your spiraling thoughts away, letting him be right. 

“I’m workin’ on getting settled. It’s easy when you have a handsome cowboy to help along the way.”

It comes out like word vomit. Between the wine and the nerves coursing through your entire being, you can’t help but admit your little crush on the man. You slap your free hand over your forehead, admitting defeat before he can even respond. You knew he would take the comment and run with it.

“You always flirt with your friends, sweetheart?” He was toying with you, which was a good sign. If he wasn’t interested, he wouldn’t call you such a thing. 

You smile, releasing your face from your hand. His eyes are tracing every curve of your face, a subtle pass that you did not capture quickly enough. 

“Only ones that fix my toilets.”

And then, he kisses you. It happens so quickly, that you don’t fully grasp that it’s happening until you're molding your lips into his. Once your buzzed brain picks up the fact that the man you have been crushing on is kissing you, he pulls away. Your eyes are still closed, your hands still gripping onto your wine glass. 

He huffs loudly and stands up quickly. Once you place your eyes on him, he’s pacing around the back deck stairs, not too far from where you’re sitting. You instantly bite back the urge to ask him what’s wrong, because there’s always something wrong. 

“‘M sorry, sweetheart. I should’na done that.”

He instantly regretted it. The thought made your throat tighten. He continues to walk back and forth, causing a draft. 

“It’s fine, Joel. I’m n-not mad.”

He shakes his head, halting his robot-like movements. He finally looks at your pitiful expression and lets out a long sigh. “I don’t think I’m much of a gentleman, kissing you on the first date.”

You watch as he places his hands on his hips, contemplating his whole life right before your eyes. You realize he is too traditional to see that nowadays, people are sleeping together on the first date. First base is nothing. You rest your glass on a decrepit table next to you and stand up. 

You slowly approach him, trying to catch a glance from him, but he continues to avert his eyes. You grow bold enough to tilt his chin towards you, letting your guard down for a moment. 

“You’re such a gentleman, it hurts,” you whisper, slowly letting a smirk grow across your face. The comment makes his shoulders lower, finally relaxing from such a heated moment. 

“Just don’t wanna mess this up with ya,” He murmurs, only letting you and the nearby fireflies hear you, “I enjoy spending time with you.”

You slowly lower your hand to your side, trying to act casually about the confession. But the truth is you want to run and wake up every cow and horse within a 10-mile radius with a squeal of delight. 

“I like spending time with you, too, Joel.”

He takes your hand as you say it, bringing your knuckles up to his lips. His breath is hot on the back of your hand before he says, “Well now, I quite like the sound of that."

taglist (some of y'all can't be tagged, I tried lol)

@midnightdragonzero @casssiopeia @anoverwhelmingdin @notsosecretspy @raindrcpsangel @art-estrange @misstokyo7love @lizzie-cakes @d1lf-loverrr @ashleyfilm 

@blckbrrybasket @cande-beggins @gloryekaterina @lilyevanstan1325 @frogtape @jamesdeerest @mellymbee @arrowsandanchor @polishedtaylor @harrieandharassed @ranahx @youwouldntdownloadapizza @jmillersgirl @wintersquirrel @stefanibear003 @joliettes @startsm00n @abbsfrommars @76bookworm76 @youotterbekiddingme @jodiswiftle

[lo1k-diamonds]

Be as it must 💜 Part 4

You and I are meant to be.

PAIRING: Alpha!Jungkook x Omega(f)reader

SUMMARY: You're set on leaving, but things never go like you'd wish them to.

WORD COUNT:  2.6k

GENRE: ABO, strangers to lovers, fated lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: tension and angst

A.N. A huge thank you to @moonleeai for the beta read💜 This one is emotional, and if the last one was stressful, well...

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | < Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >

It was unusual that you were caught by surprise, but you would never be caught without a plan.

As such, even though yesterday you had been left bitter with shame, idiocy, and betrayal, the next morning, you were back on your feet.

You had allowed yourself to process the events during a shower in the early hours of the morning. Naturally, people didn’t flaunt their relationships, so there was no way you could have guessed. Jungk— CEO Jeon should have informed you himself, if not because of the way you interacted with each other, then at least the moment your skins touched while alcohol was in both your systems. It was not your fault for not knowing, but it was his for not honoring a prior commitment. The way he turned to you instead of diffusing Sunhwa’s screams did raise questions, but it was not up to you to wonder what it all meant. He said they had a contract, that was it. You refused to believe he wasn’t completely aware of being in the wrong, the same way you refused to continue whatever that was. You wanted to leave anyway.

So, instead of leaving with Mr Seung that day, you grabbed your luggage and walked out the front door with the sun finally starting to clear the night sky. A taxi was waiting for you to take you to the office, where you started a very early day with a game plan — you needed to wrap things up.

If CEO Jeon was correct, you’d have a reply from the American company today, and no other deal would need to be handled in person in Seoul. It did facilitate things, but it meant nothing else needed to be a priority. You organized your tasks and timings — with extra time and effort, you could be leaving on a flight to Busan tonight.

You were certain of your success during the morning, at least until CEO Jeon tried to attend one of your meetings. Dealing with his presence was harder than you thought — not just because he reminded you of how stupid you had been the night before, but because he tried talking to you.

But on that end, some things helped. Sunhwa was like a hound, constantly on him, even during the meetings you were present, making sure to drag him away by politely — and loudly — reminding him he had other places to be. To make your timetable work, you had delegated a few tasks, including going to CEO Jeon to iron down details and clarify any lingering doubts. You used a totally different office, having asked a colleague from a different department to use his instead. This meant no lunchtime, no opportunities to bump into CEO Jeon, and absolutely no distractions.

The stars seemed to align shortly after your midday sandwich — the American representative had a positive response, with only a few things left to handle. Details, which made you ecstatic. A few hours of work were all that stood between you and freedom.

The only catch was that the people you had delegated to couldn’t bring the final agreement to the CEO. You contemplated just sending an email, but knew that would be distasteful. There were also notes and considerations that were better off discussed verbally without a digital trail, and if it wasn’t for the previous night’s debacle, that wouldn’t have been an issue.

Your stubborn nature didn’t allow you to let something that embarrassed you affect you professionally, so you gritted your teeth through a workaround. You printed the fifty some pages of the agreement and commented on everything that required his attention, highlighting and adding sticky notes with considerations to each relevant paragraph and page. It was exhausting, but you felt like it was the right compromise.

Hours later, you had your flight booked, the agreement fully annotated, and your luggage as you neared CEO Jeon’s office. You braced yourself for what would surely be an unpleasant experience, but as you knocked, no one answered.

You dared to enter after checking your wristwatch; you couldn’t be late. His spacious office was empty, nothing but silence present inside those walls. There was a large desk at the center in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, and that was where you decided to go after putting the luggage to the side for a moment. 

Every step disturbed you even more; his heady scent made your senses surge and your gut twist. You gripped the folder in your hand firmly; you didn’t want to enjoy his scent or any thought of him. You just needed to push through this to leave.

The door suddenly barging open startled you, but as quickly as it opened, it closed, leaving you nailed to the floor. Jungkook stood there with wide eyes, looking at you in a mix of bafflement and intention. Then, you dared to blink, and he stormed across the room to get to you.

“Thank fuck,” he let out as he neared you. “I need to talk to you; I thought you were avoiding me—”

“I’m just here to drop this off,” you interrupted sternly, waving the file in your hand. “Congratulations, you were right — we have a positive answer and a verbal commitment. All that’s left is for you to go over a few details and give me your instructions, and we can have this contract signed by the end of the month.”

His wide eyes only revealed disbelief until he snapped out of it, “What are you— I don’t care about that!”

You extended the file between you, “Please take it and revise it accordingly.”

He glanced at the offending folder and looked at you again, knitted eyebrows spelling confusion and hurt. “I can’t handle that right now!”

Still, you insisted, “Whatever happens in private, stays in private. Work ethic dictates—”

He snatched the file from your hand and dropped it on his desk, “Fine! Fine, I’ll handle it. Won’t you please talk to me now?”

You ignored the way he looked at you and spun to grab the file again, extending it in the same way, “Please don’t overlook months of work of dozens of professionals—”

“I don’t!” He couldn’t hold it any longer; he grabbed your shoulders. “I won’t! But please listen to me: she means nothing to me.”

It sounded crude to you, almost cruel, so you remained impassive, “She surely means something. You’re just confused.”

His fingers pressed through your coat, “I’m not confused!”

“You are. You have a commitment—”

“A piece of paper! A deal I don’t care about made before I met you, before I knew about you!”

You straightened your back, “My designation shouldn’t—”

“Fuck your designation!” You would have trembled if he wasn’t holding you. He raised a hand to your cheek, “You’re not an omega to me; you’re my mate. Can’t you feel it? The way our hearts align?” His eyes were wide, searching in yours, and you could barely breathe. “The way our souls sing whenever our eyes meet? You have to feel it too, please don’t deny it.”

You only realized your lips had parted in shock when you clenched your jaw, “It doesn’t matter. You have a commitment.”

“The only commitment I have is to spend the rest of my life with you,” his voice shook as he cupped your other cheek. “I’ve started the process to annul it, and I’m certain it will be approved because no one can come in between us. Fate…” he whispered, fluttering his eyelashes over watering eyes. “You and I are meant to be.”

Your heart was shaking with your emotions chaotically running rampant through you, but you were headstrong. You couldn’t think properly with his nose almost grazing yours, so you put a palm over his chest and pushed.

He let go of you, unable to hide the way it hurt him, but you weren’t looking. You couldn’t face him. You disliked running away, but you were overwhelmed and unsure that you could trust him. That you could trust your own heart.

“Let’s at least talk tonight,” he tried with a sobered tone. 

You raised your eyes to him, and your heart wept — he was trying. He was coming to you, talking, explaining, giving worth to the fact that you gave priority to work, but it didn’t change anything. Because you couldn’t trust him.

“I can’t,” you breathed.

“Why not?” His tone was grazing on a whimper, “For work? I swear—”

“No, I’m leaving,” you breathed it out before it got stuck. Your eyes landed on the luggage you left near the entrance, and he looked over his shoulder to follow your gaze. “I booked a flight, I’m leaving in a couple of hours.”

He shook his head violently, and in a second, his strong hands were around your head, aiming to keep you still so that his lips could crash to yours. 

It was sudden and brave, and you said, “Don’t.”

He instantly groaned. His control might have flown out the window, but there was no way he would go against your wishes. No matter how much he believed that kissing you could make you see that he spoke the truth, could make you feel what he was talking about, he still couldn’t do more than ghost your lips, your taste less than an inch away. You, his soulmate, his fate, so close, yet so far.

“We both want this,” he reasoned in a desperate attempt to get to you. 

You held the power; you were judge, jury, and executioner.

When you remained silent, just looking at him with a line between your eyebrows, he had to insist. “Let me show you,” he whispered, ghosting your lips, the tension stretching so thinly he could swear it was about to snap. “Let me show you how good I can make you feel.”

The desperation put a nearly sick glint in his eyes, and it touched you in ways you couldn’t explain. All you could do was nuzzle him and stay silent, fighting your heart with your logic with all your might.

You couldn’t open your mouth, or you’d do something you’d regret at the expense of your weakness, knowing you’d hate yourself for it. There was still the chance that it was all just to deceive you, to collect an omega like in the stories your mother used to tell you. The ones where evil alphas took pleasure in hoarding omegas and taking them from their mates and families.

Yet, it was true that you had never felt anything like it; a desire so strong burning through your veins, you could combust. If it wasn’t enough, his scent was addictive; his desire smelled exotic and spicy, awakening places you preferred to stay in slumber right now. You knew that if you let him, the want would consume you. You wouldn’t stop until he was inside you, keeping his promise and fulfilling your lust, your need to have his touch, his kiss, his everything as part of you.

And that was precisely why you couldn’t do it.

“I can make you mine,” he rasped, something akin to agony glistening in his eyes. “I can give you everything you ever wanted.”

The corners of your mouth twitched; could he read your mind? How else would he know that everything you wanted was him?

“Just let me show you.”

You finally took a deep breath, “No, I’m leaving.”

“No,” his expression morphed into anguish. 

“You have to let me go.”

“No no no no, I can’t, don’t ask me to, please. Please, just listen to what I have to say. Go with Mr Seung and let’s talk. Really talk, I’ll tell you everything. Everything, my whole heart, please.”

Your eyes observed every detail of his expression — his knitted eyebrows, glistening eyes, and pressed lips. You didn’t like to see him suffer; it was almost a compulsion just to acquiesce so he could feel well again.

“If you still want to leave after that, you can,” his voice gained a sturdiness, as did his expression, and it allowed you to breathe. “I promise, you’ll take my private jet and go immediately, and I’ll never— I won't—” Whatever he was trying to say didn’t seem to come out, so he shook his head. “So please say you will talk to me.”

Your mouth opened, but a loud knock on the door stole your words. You almost smiled as Sunhwa’s voice cut the silence, introducing someone important to see CEO Jeon right before coming to a stop.

You knew that she and whoever accompanied her were just standing by the entrance, witnessing something very odd: CEO Jeon standing stiffly next to his desk with his hands raised in front of him, unbeknownst to them, holding your head in them. You looked into his eyes, your eyebrow twitching, but his head only moved an inch to the side.

His eyes still begged, “Please.”

But your hand came to his arm to pull it, and he let go. You stepped back and said something polite as you dropped the file on his desk, then bowed deeply, bowing to the newcomers as well, before grabbing your luggage and going on your way. 

Jungkook wouldn’t have been able to function if he hadn’t received a message from Mr Seung about ten minutes after you left saying that he had you and was going to take you home, at your request. It filled his heart with such hope that he could barely contain the tears in his eyes. Still, he needed to during that meeting and the ones that inevitably followed. He counted the minutes, the seconds. If you left, he was certain that Mr Seung would inform him, but you wouldn’t. Because you agreed to talk, and that was all Jungkook needed.

He refused to take any more tasks, reports, requests, or last-minute meetings, and left the office exceptionally early before sunset. He entered his car and grabbed his phone; Mr Seung was not driving Jungkook this time, but he wanted to call and hear about you. He wasn’t ready to face you, but—

“Sir!” Mr Seung’s distraught voice instantly stiffened Jungkook’s neck. “I came to a few minutes ago, finally I have my phone so I can warn you!”

Jungkook’s grip on the phone tightened as he heard what had happened, and by the end he didn’t know if he was livid or enraged; he might have been possessed.

Things like getting hijacked at a red light didn’t just happen in the middle of Seoul in broad daylight to a car of the Family. Much less with Mr Seung in the hospital, having passed out from a drug, while you were taken. Fucking taken.

His first instinct was to call Sunhwa, “What the fuck did you do?”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“I swear that if you lay a finger on her—”

“On who? What are you talking about? What happened? I was with you the whole day. What could I have done?”

His stomach fell; she was right. He hung up the phone and groaned into his hands. He didn’t know who else could have tried to harm you. Even though you were a precious, rare omega, no one would go as far as to take you like that.

No one that he knew would, and in fact—

He pressed the speed dial on his phone, and as soon as the other side picked up, his heartache spilled out, “Hyung.”

[mr-ribbit]

this isn't meant to soften or reduce the objective transmisogyny + additional hate action going into this, but since the people running these harassment campaigns are acting like they're literal baby children who need their hands held to understand anything, maybe this needs to be said:

what you're doing and how you treat trans women on this website is fucking MEAN. if you want to sit there and honestly convince yourself that you're *not* a transmisogynist or a transphobe or a misogynist or any other type of bigot - like if you genuinely believe that and are confused why people are calling you these things - then maybe we need to start from little primary colored building blocks and tell you that you're being fucking mean and rude and actively harmful to real people who read the things you say. im not sure why we need to start off with "trans women have feelings" - just kidding I know exactly why we need to - but maybe you don't.

no matter who you're talking to, do you honestly think accusing someone you do not know of being a pedophile, en masse, behind their back /and/ in a public forum, is a reasonable way to treat someone for making a tumblr post about video games or political opinions? even if you strongly disagree with the post, you think someone deserves to be treated like that by people they don't know? take a second please and sincerely imagine how that would feel. wouldn't it be scary? wouldn't you wonder who the people were who thought this about you - if they're people you know - if they're just a few people that will continue saying mean things to you forever or if there are thousands of people who choose to dedicate their time and energy specifically to making you feel bad? if you accidentally write a post in the wrong tone or unknowingly interact with a shitty person, that there are uncountable people that will keep track of that just to hurt you later? that's fucking horrifying

and to zone in on what's specifically happening here: do you think randomly accusing people of being pedophiles or sexual abusers has no effect on them? like a lot of you tend to excuse yourself in these discussions by saying "I didn't actually see the context of what they were saying" or "I didn't see that they apologized already" or "I didn't actually understand the post was a joke" or whatever other kneejerk response to make sure *you* aren't seen as a bad person. do you realize that makes you look even meaner? you didn't bother to actually follow up on a thought you had about someone before sending them hateful messages or making public accusations about them? those actions are harmful whether or not you like the victim at the end of the day.

believe it or not some people you send this shit to are survivors of abuse themselves, or have their own historical personal reasons to be weighing in on a touchy subject. when you baselessly decide it's ok to call someone an abuser of any type, that person is probably *also* disgusted by whatever horrible shit you're accusing them of. as someone that hates these things as much as you do in order to attack someone for them: what do you think it's like to have complete strangers think that about you? how many eggshells would you walk on if random people thought so little of you that they were ok doing this?

it's mean. it's heinous, cruel bullying, and if you genuinely think you are not doing it from a place of transmisogyny or hatefuk bias over the victims' identity, then you need to understand that that's not an excuse. "i didn't even know she was trans" ok, it was still mean to call her a pedophile with 200 of your closest friends in public. "im trans so it can't be transphobia" ok it was still mean to assume someone was endorsing abuse when they were talking about being accused of abuse. "i didn't see the post where she said it was a joke" ok it was still mean to actively harass someone without bothering to look into the full context.

at the end of the day, yes, obviously I still think you're all transmisogynist assholes who are clearly willing to gang up on a woman who has nothing to do with your problems simply because she dared to speak on them. i think you're bigoted and unwilling to examine that if it means giving up your vitriol against someone who doesn't like your favorite video game or whatever excuse of the week. but like even if you were just doing it for love of the hate game, it's fucking weird heinous shit and i hope you're happy having that be a central part of your life

to be clear: im not transfemme and if I'm overstepping or talking over anyone please let me know. im not speaking for anyone's actual experiences except my own, which is the experience of being angry at how much literal bullying and harassment I see excused on this so-called progressive queer blogging website

[emlovessid]

@into-the-jeggyverse for the bingo prompt hide and seek, 665 words bingo masterpost

Dating your best friend's brother is great. Until you break up.

Because unlike other break ups, where you never have to see them again, there's no escaping them when they're – you guessed it – your best friend's brother. You see them at birthdays and pub trivia and Christmas.

And dinner on a random Thursday evening in October.

Dinner itself had been fine, James sitting next to Remus and Regulus sitting next to Sirius, Teddy a delightful and welcome buffer between them all.

"Alright, Teddy. Count to ten and then you come find us, okay?" Sirius says, ruffling his hair.

Covering his eyes with his small hands, Teddy begins to count, "One, two, three…" and they all scatter.

James makes a beeline straight for the hallway closet where Sirius and Remus keep their coats and umbrellas. He's just gotten settled, sitting down cross-legged in the space, when the closet door opens and Jesus Christ—

"Oh, shit. Sorry," Regulus says, eyes looking everywhere but at James.

He steps back and is seemingly about the close the door again when they hear Teddy shout from the kitchen, "Ready or not, here I come!"

Their eyes are both wide as they meet, before Regulus makes a split second decision and steps into the closet beside James and closing the door on them both.

James isn't sure whether he wants to laugh or cry. Maybe both.

It's one thing to be amicable with your ex from a distance, when there's other people around and you don't actually have to interact with them beyond a polite hello and goodbye. But it's a completely different scenario to be sitting in an enclosed space with your ex, your side pressing up against a body you still know like the back of your hand, even though you have no right to.

"Sorry," Regulus says eventually, his voice quiet. "I heard Ted and I panicked."

Chuckling, he says, "Can you imagine the horror? Losing hide and seek to a four year old."

"Oh, piss off," he laughs.

And just like that the tension between them breaks, the air around them feeling less heavy. It almost feels like they're them again.

"This feels like old times, eh? You and me, both in the closet," James says and immediately regrets it, cringeing at his own joke.

"Wow, that was bad, even for you."

"I know. Please forget I said anything," he groans.

"Gladly."

They're quiet again for a moment, Teddy's voice distant as it travels from the other end of the house.

"It does kind of feel like old times though, you cooking tonight. God, I've missed your carbonara," James says with a wistful sigh.

He's not expecting Regulus to respond with, "I miss you folding my laundry. I've never been able to get the t-shirts right."

He should leave it at that, but his mouth is already moving and the words are tumbling out, "I miss your shampoo, it always smelled better than mine." This is where he should really, really stop talking, but the words just won't stop, rolling off his tongue before his brain has even registered what he's about to say. "I miss how you'd bite my lip when we made out. The noises you'd make while I was fucking y—"

He's cut off by lips on his, a warm weight in his lap as Regulus throws a leg over him to straddle his waist. James doesn't waste any time reciprocating, hands settling on Regulus' hips as he licks into his mouth. The moan he lets out as Regulus bites down on his bottom lip is obscene, all thoughts of the game of hide and seek they're actively playing wiped from his mind as his hands slide down to grip Regulus' arse through his jeans.

And then the closet door opens.

Teddy is giggling as he shouts, "Found you!"

But Teddy's excitement is overshadowed by his dads standing behind him; Remus laughing and Sirius shaking his head as he mutters, "I fucking knew it!"

[eldritch-spouse]

Thought of a Meet cute with Vorago. We are walking and reading a human x demon romance book. We almost walk into traffic and Vorago pulls us out of harm's way. We look up at him and thank him for saving us with all the adoration in our heart. He's going to write a fic of this 100% guaranteed.

[50/50 chance you knock into each other and swap interspecies smut books.]

[Fem reader.]

Vorago wishes he liked going to the surface more.

Really, he should. It's where a lot of his future business will be conducted, and he won't always be summoned to his target locations. Therefore, it's integral to his status that the prince not only find his way around without help but also maintain his air of infernal royal descent. This task is easy enough to achieve, and he certainly doesn't mind the change in scenery, being surrounded by so many humans even.

The problem lies in his conservative conduct. Vorago isn't allowed to interact with strangers more than he must, he shouldn't approach things outside his defined goals, so as to reduce the possibility of scandals and failure. Not only that, his standard appearance already puts off a lot of people from speaking to him, the attitude he must uphold pretty much ensures he's given a wide berth wherever he goes. Much too wide. It's an isolating experience.

He remembers when he was a clumsy hatchling, clinging to his mother's tail when the two of them ventured into the surface buzz. Sure, Queen Vorticia would have to eventually hold him by a horn, but before such, he was free to march his way to any human and ask them to play games with him. The memories alone put a smile on his face.

This is precisely why Vorago's favorite moments on the surface are when he's surrounded by busy people. People who are simply too distracted, too in their own bubble, to even register his presence, much less distance themselves.

He's been behind you for a few minutes.

Not because he chose to, you just happen to be walking the same paths.

So engrossed in your little book, you're hardly looking where you're going. Vorago knows the feeling, many times have the hours slipped past him while he bent over a desk and devoured endless pages. He had to be shaken off it by his siblings frequently, disoriented and embarrassed.

All three eyes strain to get a better view of the words on those two pages.

What are you reading? Is it fiction? Educational content? Maybe you're a student. History? Crime thriller? Drama? Sci-fi? Romance...? He can't even get a glimpse of the cover, at least not without encroaching upon your personal bubble.

Mild disappointment flashes on the prince's face.

He's just close enough to be politely curious, to catch a whiff of your scent, but that's about it.

You may not be attentive to the environment around you, but other people certainly are. The crowd slightly ahead of you hastens to catch the last few seconds of a soundless pedestrian green light. Predictably, you don't.

Right as green becomes red, impatient vehicles have already began picking up speed, your body about to resemble that of an impact dummy in a matter of seconds.

Vorago acts on reflex mostly.

Many times has he had to be the one yanking younger baby sisters and brothers from certain injury, so the prince hardly thinks before wrapping his claws around the collar of your shirt and pulling.

It was a harsh pull, definitely. Measuring strength was the last thing on the glutton's mind when he acted. The force of it doesn't just launch you back, away from the zooming cars now passing by, it also causes you to lose balance, scream, and land right on your ass.

Your personal belongings fly just about everywhere, and Vorago's focus breaks enough that he feels somewhat guilty now.

" I'm incredibly sorry. " He blurts out, a hand reaching out towards your panicked self.

You seem frantic, quickly trying to crouch and pick up your phone, keys, wallet. " N- No no, I just- " Finally, you look up.

And the look on your face says you expected quite literally anyone, except him.

He can't even interpret it at first. Is it a good kind of shock? A bad one? He understands he's rather large compared to a human, and plenty of monsters out there, but you're giving him nothing to work with. Your cheeks look warm, a much too long second passes.

You're quite beautiful up close.

" I'm okay! "

The volume of your sudden input makes his head flinch back, ears flicking. Vorago watches you drop your phone a couple of times before shaky hands finally manage to collect everything and you're standing, awkwardly.

" I uhm- " Your head veers to the traffic, then back. Beneath all the nerves, there's something like naked admiration in your expression, as if Vorago were some fantastical entity. " Thank you so much, you probably saved my life there. "

Probably?

The prince smiles, nodding, trying to make the situation as natural as it can be. " Don't mention it, ma'am, I'm just pleased you're safe. "

Something about that made your eyes widen, you look even more frantic now. He barely gets a word in when the light turns green once more, with you preparing to nearly sprint away.

" R-Right. Thanks. "

Vorago is about to walk as well, not all that eager to stop the conversation, when his foot brushes an object, causing him to reflexively glance at what he identifies as your book.

He picks it up fast. " Ma'am, your... "

When he straightens, you're already quite a distance ahead, walking decidedly fast and harshly tapping away at your screen.

" ... Book. "

Something about the cover feels weird. The glutton strolls forward with the thing in hand, indulging his curiosity while he flips it around.

'Unlocking The Quiet Mind, Exercises to find clarity and mindfulness within yourself'

Ah, self-help books. He's read a few. Lord knows today's world could use the time to reflect and find balance.

When he prepares to flip open the first few pages, the cover crinkles, making him frown. That's not natural. He moves it around some, eventually making it slip down.

Oh.

Vorago removes the fake plastic protection.

Oh.

'The Eclipse Pact, Tethered by blood and soul'

He nearly chokes.

This, is the real book. The actual cover consists of a woman in what seems to be a forested area, below a solar eclipse. She kneels before an inaccurate summoning circle in nothing more than a flowing nightgown, ritual utensils beside her, shocked and flustered by the presence of a demon confidently emerging from said circle.

He can feel his claws tightening onto the book, a rabid wave of excitement making the glutton's body become furnace-like, hair standing. He finds the back.

'Soon after moving out, Eliza Winters inherits a summoning book from her recently departed distant grandmother, detailing a ritual that, when performed during a solar eclipse, brings forth an infernal companion devoted entirely to her service. She never expected it to work, much less that she would now have to house a charming yet secretive demon who claims he will do anything to gain her favor for seemingly no reason. As she attempts to navigate her newfound reality, tensions and nosy family members highlight curious similarities between them. Can Eliza believe this infatuated summon? Are they meant to be, or are they now stuck together until the next few eclipses?'

The prince starts laughing to himself, trying to control his volume when a grin as wide and toothy as a lion's paints his complexion.

It's not that this is a particularly original story premise, it's that you were reading it.

No wonder you were panicking.

Wildly overjoyed, Vorago bolts his head every direction he can, desperate to find you again.

It's unsightly for a royal to be sprinting in public, but when the high-ranker recognizes the top of your head in a crowd, he doesn't hold back, nearly shoving past people.

He doesn't even know what he'll say when he catches up, he just knows he has to find you.

It's too perfect.

[leonw4nter]

She’s Everything and He’s… He’s There Too I Guess

Hockeyplayer!RE2R!Leon x Figureskater!Reader

“Those damned hockey players…”, you quietly hiss to yourself as you skate off to the side. You had almost fallen down and cracked your head open as there was a crater in the ice, left behind by those rowdy hockey players who used the arena before you did. You usually used the arena before the players could since the ice was at its best but because you ran late, you ended up with deformed ice. You stayed at the side a little more, checking your skates and looking around for some more craters so you wouldn’t embarrass yourself in front of the hockey team flail embarrassingly and land face-first. Besides palms that had a slight dull ache to them, you were lucky you didn’t fall hard and end up with a serious injury. “Sorry for uh– the ice,” a voice piped up behind you. You turn around and the first thing your gaze falls on is a pair of irises that are a hue of a midwinter sky. “I’m apologizing on behalf of my team. Do you, um… need any help…?,” he shyly asks. This guy looks new, might be a rookie since you haven’t seen a blonde-haired, rosy cheeked, baby-faced athlete that contrasts the rugged, brunette guys with faint stubbles. His blond hair is slightly tousled, the tips of his ears pink. “No, it’s fine– I’m fine,” you respond with a small nod. He looks at the rink before he asks if you're sure, genuine concern flashing in his eyes before you respond that you’re really sure, shooting him a small smile. He eventually turns around to get back to his team but not before he looks back once or twice. “Kennedy”, the back of his navy blue jersey reads. He’s cute; polite too. ──────────────────────────────────────────────────────

That’s how your friendship started out with the shy, good-souled starting goalie whose name is Leon. He’s looked out for you whenever you skated and offered moral support when he wasn’t training, shooting you a thumbs up and that adorably goofy smile of his. Whenever you’d blow him an air kiss mid-spin, he’d divert his gaze elsewhere as his cheeks and the tip of his ears redden up; his teammates would tease him too, which you found endearing. After your first interaction with Leon, you noticed that the team would usually arrive earlier than they normally do (and shoot Leon teasing grins and looks). They watch you skate to pass the time, some of them complimenting your moves as you leave the ice and they take their respective posts; all the players easily tossed compliments, except for Leon. “You um… you l-looked good out there–”, he would quickly mumble.

“Leon we’re literally friends, how are you still so shy?,” you would say with a bright smile. He often stuttered or rushed whatever he had to say, though you would usually giggle and softly offer a ‘thank you’ whilst he said his ‘no problem’ or ‘your welcome’. You give him a small pat to the arm before moving to the seat where you placed your bag and you swear you could hear Chris, Leon’s teammate, tease Leon and say ‘your girl’ or something close to that. Back then, you would immediately freshen up and get going after practice but after making friends with Leon, you’d stay at the arena to cheer and watch him play just like he does with you.“Good luck!,” you exclaim before they start a practice game. Leon shoots you that hundred-watt smile before pulling his helmet down, getting his game-face on. A giddy sizzle of electricity runs up and down your spine, making you feel all warmly odd and fuzzy. A smile curls the tip of your lips upward, bringing your head down to release a small chuckle. Goddamn Leon, you’re making the ice princess feel awfully warm.

“Give it your all Kennedy; your girlfriend’s watching you!,” Chris yells in an awfully happy voice.

“Shut up man, she’s not my girlfriend!,” Leon yells back, silently thankful for the fact that his helmet is hiding the beet-red flush of his cheeks. After some time, the practice game finally ended. You got up from your seat to bid Leon and the guys goodbye before you finally left.

“Bye guys, bye Leon!,” you say with a small wave. All the guys said bye in unison, with Leon’s own response being slightly delayed since he was ruffling his silvery blond hair.

“Bro got his own special goodbye greeting,” Chris says to no one in particular. The other guys turn their heads to give Leon a knowing look along with a teasing snicker, prompting Leon to shyly mumble a “shut up” even though no one really said anything besides Chris.

This is your routine for the next 5 months. You and Leon have managed to grow closer too– now going on hangouts, lunch runs, and sometimes teaching each other basic moves from your respective sports. You also noticed that Leon seemed to be a little more awkward around you, unable to maintain eye contact when doing something as simple as talking and choosing to focus on other parts of your face like your cheeks and occasionally your lips too. There was an instance, about a month ago, where you both were watching His Girl Friday. Leon was saying the lines at the same time as Cary Grant’s character was, seemingly familiar with the film. He kept spilling facts about the movie, obviously very enthused. You know some facts too, but not as in-depth as him. His eyes twinkled with interest, his legs bouncing with enthusiasm whenever a scene he liked came on. Though he never looked you straight in the eye for no more than seven seconds, you would often catch him stealing a glance when he thought you weren’t looking. You feel him shift on the couch so you turn to look at him but you’re instead met with a piercing gaze. Odd. He inches a little closer, his gaze unsure whether to focus on your eyes or… lips. Heart pounding like a jackhammer in your chest and mind fading into nothing, you did what you thought was the most un-awkward thing at the moment: share a piece of trivia.

“Um– Howard Hawks and Charles Lederer also worked on Gentlemen Prefer Blondes,” you swiftly say, causing the words to sound a little mashed together.

“I know,” he simply says. There’s a rasp in his voice, his gaze fixed on your eyes now. Slowly, he closes the gap and you follow him too but he stops and pulls back at the last minute. “Nevermind,” he murmurs before turning his attention back on the screen. You sit there, frozen still and trying to process what happened. “Did he just try to kiss me,” you silently think to yourself. You clear your throat and adjust your position, trying to get your focus back on the movie but all you can really think about was that moment. “If I could travel back in time, Cary Grant is one of the people I’d like to meet,” he suddenly says. He turns to you, that goofy grin on his mouth again; he’s acting as if that moment mere seconds ago never happened. Maybe I’m just overthinking this.

Instances like this keep happening for a month or so; he leans in close, you keep thinking that this is it, he pulls away saying “nevermind” or “nothing”. Leon always wore his heart on his sleeve: he spoke what he truly felt so keeping something secret was definitely uncharacteristic but not too odd. He did start being more affectionate though: buying you flowers, getting you food, and even buying you random stuff (like a leg warmer that you had told him was cute once). He even began holding your hand or giving you hugs, which made you feel special but that feeling went down the drain when you saw him hug Chris’ sister Claire. All this was confusing you, since you liked him too and you wanted to know if this was a one-sided thing with all the signals thrown around. This time, you were determined to get your assumptions about his feelings straight so you wouldn’t be all the more confused and possibly misled. Jill, a friend of Claire's, arranged an outdoor ice skating get-together. Claire invited Chris, who in turn invited Leon and then invited you. For the next two hours, the four of you spent the time skating around. Jill and Claire needed help maintaining their balance so the three of you had to stay around them so they wouldn’t fall and possibly injure themselves. Since there weren’t so many people in the rink, Leon and Chris got to race each other whilst you got to do your jumps and spins. Not too long after, it was down to you and Leon doing the skating. “This is it. Showtime,” you thought to yourself. Catching up to Leon, you decided to pop the question.

“Soo… are you into Claire? Or Jill?,” you asked innocently.

“Huh– Um, no–,” Leon responded. Flustered, the tips of his ears reddened.

“C’mon. Just tell me so I can maybe play matchmaker and set you up with either of them,” you coax. You masked your own personal feelings for him by using this method. Although it stung slightly, you can’t force him to like you so the most you can do for him is to help him out regarding matters of the heart.

“I mean… they’re kind and beautiful and overall great people but they’re just not, you know… they’re not my type,” he shyly responds.

“Okay… then who’s your type?”

“You.”

You stop pushing your feet and just slide across the ice, staring into Leon’s face with a puzzled expression. “Did I hear that right?”

“Yeah, you did,” Leon quietly says. Looking back at the others, he sees that they’re sitting down and having a chat over some hot chocolate in a thermos so he takes this chance to finally speak.

“Y’know, when I went up to you those 5 months ago and apologized about the ice, I didn’t think my decision would hit me with a vengeance. At first I thought you were pretty and good at what you do but after being friends with you, you look much more divine to me and seeing you march to the beat of your own drum and- and actually getting a look into your actual personality, I knew that I’d love you. I’d love you through my screw-ups and through yours too,” he confessed. You two were still skating but at a slower pace now. Snow was beginning to gently fall down, tiny snowflakes gliding through the frigid air. Steam softly billowed out of your mouths, both your cheeks red like apples but not as red as Leon’s.

“Claire and Jill are amazing women– they’re just like you: they’re nice, attractive, helpful– overall decent people but out of all the possible personalities in here, my favorite type is you,” he finishes. His heart is doing quadruple Axels in his chest, ready to take flight or shatter any moment now. His hands, stuffed inside his warm coat pocket, are feeling clammy and sweaty. Suddenly, he kind of regrets letting out such a long confession.

“Hey I’m s-,” you cut him off in the best way ever.

You skate in front of him, hands extending towards him. Your left hand tugs at the collar of his gray trench coat whilst your right hand travels to the back of his neck, your fingers gently digging into the back of his head and threading themselves amongst the tufts of soft hair. You draw him near, closing the gap with a tender kiss. His body tenses up, his system shutting down, and he freezes but soon regains his bearings and kisses you back. His fingers leave his pockets and situate themselves on your waist, his thumbs gently drawing circle patterns. He doesn’t ask for more, just giving and taking. His slightly chapped lips spread into a giddy smile whilst still pressed against yours; Leon could only describe this kiss as a comforting breath of the sun that could keep the winter away. You pull away reluctantly and gaze into his eyes, ink-hued pupils swallowing the icy blue of his irises.

“I love you too,” you breathlessly say with an equally giddy grin.

A surprised laugh escapes Leon’s slightly parted mouth as he hugs you, lifting you up.

“Hey lovebirds!,” Jill calls out. You two look at Jill, who is cupping her mouth with gloved hands. “We saved some hot cocoa for you both! Come while Chris’ ass isn’t chugging it yet!”.

You two look at each other again, a small chuckle escaping your lips as you guys’ eyes glimmer in the shared love being realized. Leon takes your hand in his, intertwining his fingers with yours. You skate over to where Chris, Jill, and Claire are waiting. Jill hands the cup to Leon but Leon politely declines, offering it to you instead which earns raised eyebrows and smirks from the three. You take a sip of the drink, a comforting warmth taking over your body like a nice warm, weighted blanket.

“Don’t you want some?,” you ask Leon.

“I have a better way of tasting it later,” Leon responds with a cheeky wink.

“I heard that!,” Chris’ loud voice booms.

NOTE - This is my first time writing and working on something like this so if you liked it then that's really great and if not then feel free to tell me what you want me to improve on! My uploading schedule isn't super definite since I write whenever I feel like it. That's it and thanks for reading :)

The dividers (the ones with the star and circle) are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[eu-nicola]

first impressions part 1

sinopsis: Sofia finally takes Rafe to meet his family, a dinner that she has been postponing for fear of tensions between Rafe and his parents. Although Rafe shows an indifferent facade, he feels out of place in this family atmosphere. However, the situation gets complicated when he meets Amelia, Sofia's younger sister, and an unexpected spark arises between them.

warnings: subtle flirting, bad person

author's note: my first language is not English

—————————<3—————————

It was a warm afternoon at the Morales family’s house. The scent of homemade food filled the air, and the preparations for dinner were almost complete. Sofía had spent the last few weeks gathering the courage to bring Rafe home to meet her family. Although they had been dating for a few months, she knew this moment was important. She wasn’t a stranger to the rumors surrounding Rafe, but what most people didn’t know was that he had shown her a softer, more vulnerable side. Still, Sofía was nervous.

That night, as Sofía drove toward her family home with Rafe by her side, she felt a mix of emotions. Rafe, on the other hand, seemed unbothered, leaning back in the passenger seat, eyes fixed on the road ahead. Though he didn’t say it, he wanted to get this dinner over with. Family dinners weren’t his thing, and he knew the Morales family would likely interrogate him about his life, his family, and, most importantly, his intentions with Sofía.

When they arrived at the house, they were greeted with warm smiles from her parents. Her mother hugged her daughter and then looked at Rafe with watchful eyes, subtly evaluating him. Sofía’s father stepped forward to shake his hand, maintaining a firm but polite stance.

“Welcome, Rafe,” Sofía’s father said, smiling with a hint of reserve. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

Rafe nodded, offering a slight smile but maintaining his usual emotional distance.

Just as they were about to sit in the living room, the sound of heels echoed down the stairs. Rafe glanced up, distracted by the sound. Then he saw her. Descending slowly, with an effortless grace, was Amelia, Sofía’s younger sister. Her large, curious eyes met Rafe’s. She wore a simple but flattering dress, her hair falling in natural waves over her shoulders. Although her entrance hadn’t been designed to attract attention, it did so effortlessly. Rafe noticed how his posture shifted slightly, feeling an unexpected spark of interest. She wasn’t just beautiful; there was something in the way she walked, in the way she looked at him without flinching, that immediately captivated him.

“Hi,” she said in a soft but confident voice. “I’m Amelia, Sofía’s sister.”

For the first time in a long while, Rafe found himself momentarily speechless. His gaze remained fixed on her as they shook hands, noticing the subtle electricity in the touch.

“Rafe,” he finally responded, with a smile he hadn’t shown before.

Amelia couldn’t help but feel a twinge of interest. She knew who Rafe Cameron was and what people said about him. However, that troublesome reputation didn’t matter in that moment. There was something about his presence, the way he moved and looked, that sparked her curiosity.

Sofía, though she said nothing, noticed the brief interaction between them. She knew her sister too well not to pick up on the slight spark in her eyes, though she tried to ignore it. Dinner went on with casual conversation, with Sofía and her parents leading most of the dialogue. But in every pause, Rafe and Amelia exchanged fleeting glances.

After dinner, as everyone rose from the table, the girls’ father made a suggestion.

“Rafe, how about a game of pool?” he said, winking with a smile that aimed to be friendly.

Rafe, who preferred anything over a long conversation, nodded in agreement.

“Sure,” he replied with a slight grin.

As they made their way to the game room, Rafe cast one last glance at the stairs where Amelia and Sofía were chatting. Amelia watched him leave and smiled slightly before turning to her sister. The two of them headed to the kitchen to prepare dessert, though curiosity lingered between them.

“Mom wants us to make dessert together,” Amelia remarked as she pulled out some ingredients.

“What did you think of Rafe?” Sofía asked, trying to sound casual.

Amelia, who was arranging the trays, pretended to think for a moment, though she knew exactly how she felt.

“He’s interesting,” she replied, not committing too much. “He seems... intense.”

Sofía nodded, watching her sister closely, looking for any sign of what she was really thinking.

“‘Interesting’?” her sister repeated, raising an eyebrow, clearly fishing for more details. “Is that all?”

Amelia shrugged, giving her response a playful edge.

“I don’t know, Sof. I don’t know him well enough to say more than that. But... he has something. I’m just not sure if it’s a good something or a bad something.”

Sofía sighed, knowing she wouldn’t get much more from her sister at that moment. She tried to drop the subject, but a small insecurity settled inside her. Meanwhile, in the game room, Sofía’s father and Rafe prepared the pool table. The balls were set, and though they kept the conversation light, the tension was palpable.

“So, Rafe,” Sofía’s father said as he lined up his first shot. “How’s business going with your family?”

Rafe took his time before answering, focused on his shot before speaking.

“It’s going well,” he replied, hitting one of the balls and watching it roll into a pocket. “My father’s still in charge of most of it, but I’ve been taking on more responsibilities.”

Sofía’s father nodded, noting Rafe’s precision in the game. He wasn’t surprised; the boy had a reputation for being calculating in everything he did. But he’d also heard things that made him wary.

“It’s good to hear that,” he said, aiming for his next shot. “Stability is important, especially if you’re thinking about a future with my daughter.”

Rafe looked up, catching the weight of those words. It was a warning, as expected, but it didn’t rattle him.

“I know,” he responded calmly, with an unusual seriousness.

Sofía’s father studied Rafe for a few seconds before taking his shot, nodding slowly though still withholding his full judgment.

After finishing the dessert, the girls headed to the game room with bowls of strawberries and cream. Amelia carried the tray while Sofía followed, smiling. As they approached, the soft sound of pool balls echoed in the room, and Sofía’s father gave Rafe a friendly pat on the back after the last play.

“Here’s the dessert,” Amelia announced with a smile, placing it on a small table by the couch. “Hope you like it, Rafe.”

Rafe looked up just as Sofía stepped up beside him, positioning herself at his side. Without thinking much, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close with a slight smile.

“Thanks,” Rafe replied, but his eyes weren’t on the dessert. For a moment that lasted too long, his gaze met Amelia’s once more, and she held his stare.

Amelia moved away from the table, watching how Rafe’s arm wrapped around her sister.

“I’m glad you like it,” Amelia said, fidgeting with a napkin. “It’s the best Sof and I can do.”

The atmosphere in the room shifted slightly. Sofía’s father began eating the strawberries, complimenting the taste before excusing himself to take a work call in the kitchen. Now, it was just the three of them: Sofía, Rafe, and Amelia, as the girls’ mother had gone to bed with a bad headache.

Sofía, still standing next to Rafe, smiled and gave him a playful nudge.

“How about a rematch?” she said, referring to the pool game Rafe had just lost to her father. “This time, I can help you.”

Rafe smiled, but his attention was divided. While Sofía spoke, his eyes found Amelia again, watching them from her seat. The way she looked at him, without needing to speak, felt like a challenge in itself.

Amelia stretched lazily as she stood up.

“Mind if I join?” she asked with a grin.

Rafe couldn’t help but feel the situation growing more complicated. He didn’t want to say no, but he knew the tension between them was building, and anything he said or did could escalate it. Before he could respond, though, Sofía jumped in.

“Of course not,” she said, completely unaware of the subtle game unfolding. “It’ll be fun, like old times.”

“Oh, yes,” Amelia replied, stepping closer to the pool table. “Just like old times.”

Rafe grabbed the pool cue, trying to focus on the game. Amelia moved past him, reaching for her own cue, her fingers brushing lightly against his in what could have been an accident, but felt anything but. Her gaze met his again, this time more intense, as if they were in the middle of a silent conversation Sofía couldn’t hear.

“Careful, Cameron,” Amelia whispered just loud enough for him to hear. “I’m not as good as my sister, but I can surprise you.”

No matter how much Rafe tried to stay focused, he felt a heat creeping up his spine. He knew Amelia was playing, and not just at pool. There was a line that shouldn’t be crossed, and they were both toeing it dangerously. He glanced toward Sofía, laughing as she arranged the balls on the table, completely unaware of what was unfolding between her boyfriend and her sister.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Rafe replied, glancing at Amelia from the corner of his eye.

When the final shot was about to be made, Amelia leaned over the table, her gaze fixed on the cue ball. As she struck it and made her shot, she stood up straight, throwing him a triumphant look.

“Looks like I’m better than I thought,” she said, a spark in her eyes.

Rafe stood still, trying to keep his composure. He knew he was entering dangerous waters, and even if he didn't admit it out loud, there was something about Amelia that attracted him in a way he couldn't control. But he also knew that, if he wasn't careful, everything he had with Sofia could fall apart in an instant.

[sinnersweets]

DogDay x Reader part 15

<-----part 14

I slept for about four hours before DogDay woke me up saying he needed to head out and that I should go home and rest up. I didn’t want to leave but I needed to run errands and make some calls. DogDay then carried me to the cable car and continued to hold onto me while we waited. “So, what are you going to do about CatNap?” “I can’t talk to him now but later tonight I’ll have a word with him. I’ll also talk to Sarah; see if she knows why he’s acting like that.” I nodded and leaned into his chest. I started thinking about some stuff; that is until I remembered something very important. 

Its Damians birthday today. 

“Oh my gosh! It’s Damians birthday today!” I looked up at DogDay and said, “I can’t leave, it’s his birthday and I wanted to spend it with him.” “Oh man, I had nearly forgotten about his birthday; but Angel you’re not looking the best right now. I think you should just go home and rest up there.” I shook my head no and said, “I can rest up in the infirmary. I need to tell Damian happy birthday and tell him the good news.” With a heavy sigh DogDay nodded and carried me inside Home Sweet Home and had one of the doctors look at me. 

--------------- 

Surprisingly I didn’t break anything, just had bruises. The doctor gave me Tylenol and was about to leave when he suddenly said, “I hear you’re taking Damian.” I swallowed the pills and replied, “Yes, I take him home tomorrow.” The doctor smiled and nodded while saying, “He’s a good kid, always past the tests with flying colors. We were this close to having him-” The doctor suddenly stopped talking and laughed nervously. “Having him what?” I asked. “Nothing, I misspoke. Get some rest Ms. Y/N.” The doctor quickly exited the room before I could say anything else.  

--------------- 

It had been two hours and already I was feeling much better. Laying down was starting to bore me so I decided that I would go out and try to find Damian. 

When I exited Home Sweet Home, I spotted Hoppy playing hopscotch with her group and KickenChicken playing duck duck goose with his group. I couldn’t help but smile. Seeing them interact with the kids made me feel happy. I would miss them both, even if KickenChicken did hit on me from time to time. Hopefully DogDay will convince them to leave here and come with me. 

Hoppy spotted me and called me over to her group. “Hey Y/N! Wanna play some hopscotch with us?” I politely declined and asked her if she had seen Damian. “Oh yeah little dude! I think he and DogDay are in the Playhouse.” I could feel my palms getting sweaty just thinking about going back into the Playhouse. Three hours of hiding and not getting caught. “Y/N? You okay?” I shook my head and focused back on Hoppy. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. On second thought, I think I will join you for a game.” Hoppy smiled and said, “Atta girl!” She then took my hand and led me over to her group. 

--------------- 

Once I played a few games of hopscotch KickenChicken then called me over to play a new game with his group. I really wanted to go see Damian, but he hasn’t come out of the Playhouse yet. With a heavy sigh I agreed and KickenChicken held onto my hand and led me to his group. 

“Ms. DogDay!” is what KickenChicken’s group yelled out when they saw me. Even though I wasn’t in uniform they still called me that; it was cute. “Hello.” I waved at them with my free hand. “Looks like I don’t need to introduce you Ang- I mean Y/N.” I gave a small smile to KickenChicken. “Thank you for using my name, now can you please let go of my hand? Your feathers are making my hand itch.” “Oh sure, sorry.” KickenChicken then let go of my hand and I softly scratched my hand that he was holding. 

I looked around and didn’t see Emily around. Thinking back to when I was with Hoppy I didn’t notice Edward around either. “Hey Kicken, where’s Emily today?” “She hasn’t been scheduled in a couple of days, not sure why though... In fact I think most of the helpers haven't been put on the schedule; you and Sarah seem to be the only ones here.” “Huh, I wonder why.” KickenChicken shrugged his shoulders and said, “Makes no difference to me. I can handle these kids all on my own. Now to our game.”  

KickenChicken decided to play red light, green light which I was all for it. I was chosen to be the one who says the words while he and his group tried to get to me. I headed up to the duck pond and turned around before saying, “Red light green light one two three!” I quickly turned around and everyone froze in place. I then turned back around, repeated the words, and turned around even faster next time. Some kids moved up a little bit while others moved and got out.  

“Red light green light one two three!” When I turned around, I was surprised to see both DogDay and Damian playing along. DogDay was the closest one to me while Damian was a few feet behind him. I swallowed hard as I knew that DogDay would get me. I slowly turned back around and said, “Red light- AHH!” “I gotcha Angel!” DogDay picked me up and gave me a gentle squeeze. “Haha, seems like you did.” DogDay then put me down and I smiled over to Damian and walked towards him. “Happy birthday kiddo!” I held out my arms towards him and he happily ran up to me and hugged me. “Thank you, Ms. Y/N. Mr. DogDay said you needed to speak with me?” I looked over to DogDay and he gave me a thumbs up. “Uh yes, I have a present for you.” Damians eyes gleamed with joy. “We’ll be down the hill when you’re done Angel.” Before he walked away DogDay kissed the top of my head and ruffled up Damians hair a little bit. “Talk to ya later Y/N.” I heard KickenChicken call out to me while he and DogDay walked down the hill together. 

I took Damians hand in mine and I led him over to the duck pond. “Go ahead and have a seat.” I said gently to him. Damian sat down and looked at me with patience but also curiosity. I took a seat next to him and suddenly felt nervous telling him that I was now his mom. “So um, how is your birthday going so far?” “It’s alright. Mr. DogDay gave me another card.” “Ah yes, he told me that’s what he normally gets you. Not to sound rude to DogDay, but I think my gift is much better than that.” Damian smiled at me. “Okay let me not stall anymore.... tomorrow will be our last day here because I have officially adopted you and I am taking you to your new home tomorrow.”  

Damian just stared at me for a couple of seconds before he said, “You mean you adopted me? And I get to go with you?” Suddenly Damian started crying. “Damian are you-” I was cut off when Damian jumped on me and gave me a very tight hug. “I can’t believe I finally got adopted! You're my mom now! Does that mean Mr. DogDay is now my legal dad?” I cleared my throat and chuckled nervously while saying, “No, me and DogDay are not married.” Damian looked at me and said, “But is he coming with us?” My heart sank when he asked that. “Not right now. I am trying to make it possible so that he can come with us; and everyone else too.” I then explained what my plan was to Damian and I’m not sure if he fully understood it, but he smiled and seemed excited about it. 

--------------- 

Once I finished talking with Damian, I led us both down over to DogDay. When we reached the bottom, my phone started ringing and I handed Damian over to DogDay while I checked to see who was calling me. “Hello? Yes, this is her. Uh huh. Really? That’s wonderful! Yes yes I’ll be there in an hour! Thank you!” “You seem excited Angel.” I squealed in excitement as I said, “I just got a call from the city and my request for a plot of land has been accepted! I need to head over there and start planning everything!” “Really? That’s amazing Angel!” “I don’t know what that means but yay Ms. Y/N! I mean mom!” 

I hugged Damian goodbye and stood on my tippy toes and gave DogDay a kiss on his nose. “I’ll call you after I finish, okay?” DogDay smiled lovingly at me while saying, “I already miss you Angel, but I look forward to your call.” “Bye mom! See you tomorrow!” “Bye, I love you both!” “We love you too!” I waved goodbye and headed over to the cable car, excited to get started on my project. It’s all coming together.  

A/N: THANK YOU FOR 500+ FOLLOWERS!! TRULY NEVER THOUGHT I WOULD EVER GET THERE! I LOVE ALL OF MY FOLLOWERS <3

(If you wanna be tagged in the next part lemme know in the comments!)

@my-anime-garden

[moonlit-imagines]

Preferences: the Avengers visiting you, the owner of the local bookstore

Avengers x reader

warnings:

a/n: i hope it ok i turned into prefs!! i think it made more sense with the interaction part <3

prompt: @groovy-lady: “May I please request headcanons of being the owner of a bookshop the Avengers all go to and how they all interact with you?”

Bruce is there quite often, frequently in the scientific section. He buys stacks of books at a time and is quiet and polite when checking out. You always comment on how smart he must be and he awkwardly laughs it off. After a while, you start pulling certain books you’d think would interest him, which melted his heart when he realized you thought of him. “I added a science fiction novel in there, too. I don’t know if that’s your thing, but it’s one of my favorites.” You told him and he smiled. “Thank you for thinking of me.” He said.

Clint bought a lot of kids books. “How many?” You asked. “Three. Two boys and a girl.” He told you. You admired his choice of books for his kids. Teen fiction, sci-fi, graphic novels, fantasy, and a few children’s books. “Lots of variety.” You commented. “Yeah, trying to get them into reading.” He explained. “Any recommendations? The older ones are preteens, a boy and a girl. The little one is just learning how to read.” You smirked and started heading towards some classics like Percy Jackson, Harry Potter, and The Hunger Games. “These are the most popular for their age group, and I love them, too. As far as your little guy, you’ve already got the right idea.” Clint was grateful and took the first book of each popular series, promising to come back if they loved them as much you you did.

Nat was a fantasy reader. She had no shame in it. “What do you have for me today, y/n?” She’d approach the counter and have a small stack waiting for her. You’d go down the list with a little synopsis of each. “I hope you like them.” You told her. “You haven’t let me down yet.” She said back. She also donates her books when she’s done with them, saying she wants someone else to enjoy them as much as she did.

Steve nearly picked your history section clean. “Catching up, Captain?” You joked, recognizing the Super Soldier as soon as he walked in. “I don’t even know where to start.” He admitted. You gladly slimmed down his pile of history books and replaced quite a few with some fantastic works that came out while he was on ice. “As much as I enjoy reading, you won’t learn everything from these. Make sure you aren’t missing out by trying to catch up.” You warmly told him. “That’s good advice.” You told him you try and rung him up, warning him not to go reading those all at once.

Tony was more interested in comics and graphic novels, you’d laugh when you saw him pick up the more risque comics and he’d give you a playful wink. “They’re not for me, they’re for Clint’s son, the three-year-old.” He always knew how to make you laugh. “Yes, Elvira is the perfect choice for Clint’s small child.” He said he knew you’d understand. He also admitted he likes comics because they give him a little break from thinking all day and some of the characters remind him of his own life. You told him he was like Batman, he disagrees.

Thor checks out Norse Mythology more often than not. He likes to see what is written about him and his family in the eyes of Midgardians. “Are you sure you don’t want to try something different this time, Thor?” You motioned to a different section. “There’s so much more to choose from, I’d love to give you some recommendations.” Thor declined, placing another Norse book on the counter. “Have you ever read about me? Or my brother, Loki?” You nodded, telling him you’ve read a book or two that had them featured. “Wel”l, maybe next time I’ll buy something with a little less…me in it. We’ll see. Thank you, y/n!”

Before the Darkhold, Wanda was actually quite the enjoyer of teen fiction. She begged you not to tell the others what she read, and you promised you’d never share her secret. Most of the time, she’d cozy up in your reading corner with a coffee and read her “secret” books away from the Avengers. “Wanda, this one just came in. I think you’d love it.”

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @mymelodymia // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[wileys-russo]

Mary Earps blurb where you sneak into the Lionesses hotel in Australia and surprise her? The girls all know but she doesn’t

surprise visitor II m.earps

"do you know how much trouble i could be in if someone finds out about this?" millie chuckled as she handed you a lionesses tracksuit to change into, the two of you huddled in a back alleyway behind their base camp hotel in terrigal, australia.

"mills it was your idea!" you tutted quietly with a laugh, the blonde turning away as you glanced around to make sure no one was watching and began to change. "yeah well mary's been nothing short of miserable for days now and its getting on everyones last nerve." millie groaned.

you having been uncontactable to your girlfriend for a couple of days now claiming you'd gone away on a camping trip with your students and had minimal reception, had meant mary was seemingly lost without any sort of interaction with or from you.

the reality was you'd spent the last couple of days inbetween flights on your way to australia, jetlag kicking you something terrible but motivated only by knowing each minute that ticked by meant you were closer to seeing your favourite smile once more.

you'd originally been unable to accompany mary's family overseas for the world cup due to work commitments, but your boss seeing how miserable you'd been had taken pity and allowed you to take time off for the last two weeks of the tournament granted you still did some marking on behalf of the substitute who would take your place remotely whilst over there.

so you'd spun this elaborate story of taking a group of your students camping, where you'd have practically no reception and would barely be able to speak to her in order to hide the fact you were making your way halfway round the world.

you were lucky the woman was so gullible.

"acting like you haven't missed me too mills, that's cute." you grinned, tapping her to let her know you were changed as the blonde turned and rolled her eyes, messing up your hair before tugging the hood over your head.

having been with mary for a few years now you were well known to all of her team mates for club and country, all of them seeing how disgustingly in love mary was with you and how well suited you were as a pair meant you were cared deeply for by most of them as well.

"come on, game face time." millie and you exchanged a nod, having already gone over the plan with her and rach a hundred times when millie had found out you were flying over to surprise mary and proposed she help you out.

so here you were about to be snuck into base camp which was very much so against the rules, to spend the night with mary before you'd go to your own hotel tomorrow where her family were expecting you, thinking your flight was landing...tomorrow.

the only people who knew you were actually already in australia right now, technically a whole day early, were millie and rachel.

"head down, don't look up till i say so." millie murmered, having dressed you in rach's tracksuit and praying no one would stop the two of you she slung an arm over your shoulder and guided you through the hotel.

you'd left your luggage with rachel who had already hid it in her room till you'd be leaving again tomorrow, the girl instructed to wait it out there until millie gave her the all clear.

you did your very best not to trip over your feet as the taller girl dragged you through room after room until finally you stepped into the elevator and breathed a sigh of relief, grinning up at millie who wiped at her forehead before giving you a wink.

though your relief was short lived as the elevator stopped at a floor you didn't click, millie flicking your hood over your head again as you turned to face the wall and looked down at your feet again.

your heart raced as you heard none other than alessia and ella get into the elevator, chatting away to themselves about plans for a movie night in maya's room.

"hi mills, hi rach!" ella beamed, millie smiling politely in response as you stayed quiet, eyes wide as they bore into the floor and you prayed the elevator would go faster. "ya alright rach?" ella asked with a frown and you noticed her shoes appear in your sights as she shuffled closer.

"tickle in her throat, isn't feeling well so she's headed off to bed early." millie quickly excused, stepping in front of you slightly. "hey aren't your rooms on level six?" alessia asked confused, noticing millie had clicked the eighth floor.

"hang on..." ella took another step forward and before you could even blink she'd yanked your hood down, her and alessia gasping and throwing themselves at you as millie sighed in defeat, dragging her hands down her face.

"okay yes hello hello!" you were wrapped up into a bear hug by the younger girls who chatted your ear off, not even letting you get a word in as they asked a hundred questions. "girls!" millie interrupted, both falling silent as they placed you back down on your feet.

"listen. you never saw us, you never saw her, and not a word of this to a single soul ever. right?" millie warned sternly as both younger girls nodded wordlessly, giving you one more hug before stepping off on the fifth floor and heading away toward maya's room.

"don't worry about them, i'll handle it. go get your girl!" millie grinned once she'd walked you to mary's room, knocking on the door and legging it away in the opposite direction after you'd thanked her profusely.

when your girlfriend didn't answer though, you knocked again, and again, and again.

"for fuck sakes this better be a bloody emergen-" the door flew open and mary's angry glare dropped the moment she saw you, jaw almost hitting the floor as her eyes remained wide as saucers and you grinned.

"hi baby. you gonna let me in or am i gonna just stand here in the cold?" you asked as mary stuttered, shaking her head a few times before launching at you, picking you up and dragging you inside as she kicked the door closed behind her.

"you're really here???" mary asked still in shock as you wrapped your legs around her waist and she looked at you incredulously. "surprise." you grinned, hands resting on the back of her neck and playing with the hairs which had fallen out of her messy bun.

"oh my god." mary exhaled, pulling you as tightly into her body as she could in a bone crushing hug, inhaling deeply at the familiar smell of your shampoo. "but i thought...camping?" mary frowned in confusion as she placed you on your feet, arms remaining wrapped tightly around you.

"for such a smart woman you are very gullible darling." you grinned teasingly, the taller girl shaking her head. "but how did you even..." mary trailed off, cogs clearly turning in her head as you let out a laugh.

"rach and mills snuck me in, i have to go to my own hotel tomorrow but for tonight i'm all yours. your family think i don't land till tomorrow." you admitted biting down on your lip sheepishly. "god i love you." mary breathed out, wasting no more time as she dipped her head and pressed her lips to yours.

"i love you more and i can't wait to watch you achieve everything you deserve and more." you whispered, pressing your forehead against hers as the two of you stood together in silence for a moment, just taking in one another's presence. "its about time the world saw you how i do, you're the most fiercely amazing woman i know baby." you promised as you pecked her lips sweetly a few times.

"oh love." you laughed quietly as her eyes welled up with tears, wiping them away with the pad of your thumb. "such a sap." you teased as mary wiped her face with her sleeve. "shut up!" the girl rolled her eyes, burying her face in your hair and exhaling deeply as you snuck your hands up her top and scratched lightly at her back.

"my most special, wonderful and favourite girl, always." mary mumbled before pulling away slightly and once again smashing her lips to yours, your tongues swirling against one another as the kiss became a little less sweet.

"i missed you so much love." the keeper breathed out inbetween kisses, still looking at you as if you were a mirage that could disappear at her fingertips any given second as she backed you into the wall, pressing her body against yours.

"i know, heard you've been miserably insufferable without me." you mumbled teasingly against her lips, arms looping around her neck as her hands gripped your hips so tightly you'd not be surprised if they were bruised tomorrow.

but you didn't care, when you were with her you were home.

"mary!" you laughed as she suddenly picked you up, tossing you easily over her shoulder as you smacked her bum and she gently dropped you onto her bed, wasting no time crawling on top of you with a grin.

"now...what was that about having you all to myself for tonight beautiful?"

[dropout-if]

DEMO (coming soon) - FAQ - NAVIGATION

Dropout is an upcoming (and a side project!) +18 slice-of-life interactive fiction game. Loosely inspired by media such as In the Heights and Night in the Woods.

Tag(s): Slice of life, Drama, Romance, YA, LGBTQ+, Text-based.

You take the train home from college after nearly four years away, knowing you will be welcomed with open arms, bright smiles, and the sincerest congratulations from your friends and family, from the entire neighborhood. Their pride has not been misplaced, for better or for worse, you are the one: the only one who made it into college.

This is your first summer home since you began studying in Stanford. That is what everyone thinks.

This is your first summer home since you dropped out of college, thus becoming the biggest disappointment in your neighborhood. That is what only you know.

Trigger Warning(s): Crude humor, Strong language, optional sex scenes, Violence, Depression and depictions of other mental illnesses, Substance use, Unwanted pregnancy (a RO's, Wanda).

A short disclaimer

Features and Characters below!

Return to your home, the fictional neighborhood of Downtown Heights, where you're treated like a local hero because of your grand achievement.

Determine how you managed to make it into college and why you decided to call it quits.

Reunite with your high school friends and acquaintances, with whom you've barely spoken in the past few years.

Romance one (or more) of the six old faces waiting for you in Downtown Heights.

Customize your Main Character! From their teenage years to their young adulthood, from physicality to personality. Be it your traits, flaws, and vices: everything shapes your return home.

Navigate the very dramatic shenanigans of young adulthood.

Queer relationships • RO Intros • ROs' Social Media • RO Facts

Jean/Jade Gray (he/him or she/her): THE EX • 23 years old

J and you were good. Until you weren't, and then they broke up with you right before you left for college. The two of you promised to stay as friends, but, like most promises between you and J, that too was meant to be broken. Your ex is often considered to be ambitious, determined, and cutthroat. You honestly expected them to be well out of the neighborhood.

Exes to lovers. It's possible to start a poly relationship (v and triad) with J and Kai.

Uma Bharat (they/them): THE OLD FRIEND • 22 years old

It has always been you and Uma, and this has been something you covetously believed to be true. But then the distance settled in, and then the many years in which you lived abroad. You can't claim to know them as well as you once did. Uma once dreamed of being a successful painter, and they have never given up on art (though they sometimes feel like art has given up on them).

Childhood best friends to lovers. It's possible to start a poly relationship (triad) with Uma and Travis.

Statler Amani (he/him or she/her): THE HEARTTHROB • 25 years old

You knew Statler back in high school, though they can't claim to have known of you until you made it out of the neighborhood. Many years ago, they were every high schooler's dream partner: kind, polite, intelligent. Their current partner must be proud. Nowadays, Statler works as hard as they can to help their family.

Unrequited crush to lovers. Statler is already in a relationship, a (more-or-less) toxic one.

Wanda Pavon (she/her): THE MODEL • 22 years old

Wanda had a future in modeling, the two of you were in the same group of friends in high school, and you never doubted she would be capable of making it out of the neighborhood. Her self-assertive and spontaneous personality surely would have made Wanda's road a little easier. You only find out why Wanda stayed in Downtown Heights when you meet her daughter.

Friends to lovers. Wanda is a single mother, her daughter's name is Gabi.

Kai Alofa (he/him or she/her): THE ROOMMATE • 24 years old

Kai's glow-up is the reason some Downtown Heights grandmothers believe in magic. The high school nerd turned fuckboy/girl has spent the past few years traveling around the state. Like you, they are back for the summer, ready to disappoint their parents. Rooming together comes as a natural result of delaying said disappointment (or so Kai claimed).

Friends with benefits to lovers (mandatory to romance Kai). It's possible start a poly relationship (v and triad) with Kai and J.

Travis Camaro (he/him): THE RIVAL • 21 years old

Uma, Travis and you were considered to be inseparable: it was the three of you against the world. That is no longer the case. A massive argument completely shattered the friendship Travis and you had. You know he resents you, you know he's jealous you managed to make it out and that he was left behind. And that's all you know. Travis has always been... a private guy.

(Past friends) to enemies/rivals to lovers. It's possible to start a poly relationship (triad) with Travis and Uma.

Choosing a route.

The Dropout's Family

The list of flings!

[thefallenangelsgang]

Fuck it, I'm throwing my hat on the ring about the Emil announcing Nate from Fallout 4 is the bystander Soldier in the Fallout 1 opener.

First and foremost, it was a stupid thing to say. As he backtracks to later, the conceit of Fallout's protags is they are supposed to be anyone (and that issue is precisely why some people hate the extensive prewar character background given to you in Fallout 4). For the lead writer to pull a JK Rowling (why would you do that? None of those went over well) is such a major marketing misstep that it wouldn't surprise me if Emil gets reprimanded for it before we even get into the implication of what he said.

Emil your voice is as good as God when it comes to the canon. You can't just say shit like that and expect it to go well. Especially considering the implications.

Speaking of the implications, I'm not mad about Nate being a war criminal. It's a coloring I actually would welcome if the games discussed concepts like Capitalism, Racism, and War in any meaningful way anymore. And if Emil also didn't say this.

Fallout's canon is rooted in reality. That is part of its whole thing. It's fun to do goofy shit like becoming the Silver Shroud and having a make believe superhero fight with the Mechanist or write a woman obsessed with Nuka Cola so much she traverses two games to basically kidnap the CEO's cryogenically preserved head so she can talk to him for all eternity, but the setting is very much rooted in reality.

You aren't dealing with fictional countries, you aren't dealing with fictional races, you aren't dealing with fictional hypotheticals. That is The Elder Scrolls job. You are dealing with actual countries, actual racism, actual history, and actual fucking politics. You have to be mindful of what you are doing and saying. You can't just do things because it's an interesting plot device without first thinking about the implications.

Fallout's world is a heightened version of our own, a path we seem to stumble towards with ever passing year unless we do something about it. It fucking sucks. I'm sure writing it feels like prophesizing the future and eats your soul a bit. It would mine. But that doesn't mean Fallout can just take a sharp left in terms of story and reality and get away with it.

To have Nate be the bystander Soldier and then meet him when he has a very good thing going for him (an expensive house during an inflation crisis, a robot butler, he gets into a vault for free for fucks sake) very much speaks to life rewarding him for his crimes. There is no hatred in his words when he looks at the flag of the country that made him kill innocents. His speech is speaks of remorse for leaving his family and the cycle of war, it does not speak of the horrors. Of watching you comrades bleed out in the Anchorage snow. Of the scream of shells overhead. Of the fear in civilians eyes as your buddy puts a bullet between them.

You all have to see how it looks like the man is fine with what he had to do during the war, right?

Not interacting with these concepts enough paints a picture of apathy and acceptance. In this day and age where being keeping the government honest and responsible for their actions is so important, that isn't going to slide without it being EXTREMELY purposeful, which it is not. It's tone deaf and lazy.

I respect a lot of what Emil has done in the past, but I am not above keeping him culpable when he has something so delicate in his hands. I hope this situation is what he needed to get his head on straight, or is the light bulb moment where he realizes he needs to pass the torch onwards. There is no shame in subject matter becoming too much as time goes on. There is shame in letting a previously critical series become the very thing it was criticizing.

He is going to keep getting dragged until he realizes that or he manages to convince the fans to be complicit in the degradation of setting. In doing so he is going to lose Bethesda most of its biggest fans who well and truly love the series and what it stands for.

But that's just my take, and I'm just a kid who studies polisci and history and can't shield myself from the inherent horror of nuclear war no matter how much I try.

War really never changes