#the magic system here is SO SOFT like you have no idea | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

koiiiji · 3 months ago

Note

im here for yakuza!Gun x reader smut 🤧🤧 like, you stayed at his family's mansion overnight because he introduced you to his clan for the first time and when the night came, this perv didn't care there was no soundproof system between rooms in the mansion (ofc, that's the traditional Japanese house style!!), he kept doing the deed, and even warned you to lower your voice if you didn't want anyone to hear 😏😏

ty as always bae <33

p/s: that's the idea and you can customize it however you want, just make sure that he is a meanie but soft at the same time (is it possible hm 🤔)

p/s (2): i have to send this idea right away in case you close your ask box too early lol 😂😂

author's note ; i mean Gun IS in fact yakuza, no? anyway sooo here we go! i had kinda same scenario but more rough and generally dark, like yandere, but fuck it, i think i won’t finish it anytime soon, bc i thought to add it to your request, but i don’t want to make you wait anymore. i think i was carried away a little in beginning, so its longer then expected, sorry!! 💞😮‍💨

author's note 2 ; art from pinterest, it says credits to : jongjong822 on x

tw ; f! reader, nsfw, minors, ageless/empty blogs DNI OR I WILL BLOCK YOU!!!

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ꕥ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

to be honest, you had no plans to meet Yamazaki Gun's family tonight. it's not that you were against the idea — quite the opposite! you'd heard plenty about who his father was and what his family did. there were a lot of rumors swirling around town, and while you were a little wary, you were mostly curious. besides, you hadn’t been together for that long, so you didn’t expect Gun to introduce you to his family anytime soon.

when he told you earlier in the day to dress up for the evening, you weren’t surprised. it was just another night, another overly expensive restaurant, and another excuse to be in his company. as you sat in the passenger seat of Gun's sleek black car, you glanced out the window at the city passing by. the soft glow of the streetlights bathed the streets in a warm, golden hue, making everything feel a little more magical, a little more alive.

the atmosphere inside the car was just as enchanting. Gun had always been a man of few words, but tonight he seemed more at ease, more open. the quiet hum of the engine was accompanied by the faint sound of classical music playing through the car's speakers, creating a peaceful ambiance. you felt a sense of calm wash over you as you glanced at Gun, who was focused on the road ahead. his profile was illuminated by the soft light from the dashboard, casting shadows that only added to his already mysterious aura.

the restaurant was just as extravagant as you'd expected, with its towering marble pillars, crystal chandeliers, and tables draped in fine linen. evening went perfectly. you and Gun shared a bottle of wine, and as the evening wore on, you found yourself getting a little tipsy. it wasn’t enough to lose control, just enough to feel a pleasant buzz that made everything seem a little funnier, a little more relaxed. your laughter came more easily, and you found yourself leaning in closer to Gun, your hand occasionally brushing against his. he seemed to enjoy the relaxed version of you, a soft smile playing on his lips as he listened to your stories and responded with his own dry wit.

when the dinner finally came to an end, you felt a sense of contentment settle over you. the food had been exquisite, the wine even more so, and the company... well, there was no one else you'd rather be with. so you assumed that Gun would take you back to your home now, to end the night on a sweet note with a kiss or maybe something more at your doorstep. so, when he steered the car away from the familiar streets and onto an unknown road, you raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question him. the wine had left you feeling pleasantly hazy, and you were more focused on continuing your easygoing conversation than worrying about where you were headed.

“so, tell me,” you began, your words slightly slurred but still coherent, “why do you always pick these fancy places? are you still trying to impress me, Gun?”

Gun glanced at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “maybe i just like seeing you all dressed up,” he teased, his voice as smooth as the leather seats you were sitting on.

you laughed, leaning back in your seat and looking out at the unfamiliar road ahead. “well, it’s working. but you know, you don’t have to go all out every time. i'm just as happy with oversized t-shirt, most stupidest comedy and you.”

“noted,” he said with a small nod, though there was a hint of something more serious in his tone. “but tonight is special.”

you blinked, trying to process his words through the pleasant fog in your mind. “special? how so?”

“you'll see,” was all he said, and you let it go, too relaxed and warm from the wine to press him further. conversation flowed easily between the two of you as Gun drove. night seemed endless, the road stretching out in front of you like a promise of more to come. when the car finally slowed and turned into a long, tree-lined driveway, you began to wonder just where he had brought you. the driveway was impeccably maintained, with tall, ancient trees on either side casting long shadows under the soft glow of strategically placed lights.

Gun parked the car in front of an imposing mansion, the kind you’d only seen in movies. building was grand, with tall windows that gleamed in the moonlight and a wide set of steps leading up to the front door richly decorated with mahogany. you stared up at it, your slightly inebriated mind struggling to catch up with the reality of the situation.

“Gun… where are we?” you asked, your voice tinged with awe and a hint of nervousness. he turned off the engine and looked at you, his expression unreadable. “this is my family's home,” he said simply, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

your heart skipped a beat. “wait… you mean… we’re meeting your family? tonight?”

he nodded, his gaze softening as he reached out to gently take your hand. “yes, tonight. i wanted you to meet them.”

panic began to bubble up in your chest, but it was quickly tempered by the warmth of his hand in yours. the wine had left you feeling too relaxed to fully grasp the gravity of the situation. Instead, you let out a soft, nervous laugh. “well, you could have given me a bit more of a warning,” you teased, squeezing his hand as you tried to keep the mood light.

“i didn’t want you to worry,” he replied, his voice steady and reassuring. “you’ll be fine. they’ll love you.”

before you could respond, Gun stepped out of the car and walked around to your side, opening the door for you. he offered you his hand, and you took it, letting him help you out of the car. as you stood there, staring up at the mansion, the reality of what was about to happen finally sank in.

you were about to meet Yamazaki Gun’s family. tonight.

you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, and looked up at Gun. he was watching you with that same calm, unreadable expression, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes — something that made you feel like everything was going to be okay.

with one last squeeze of his hand, you smiled and nodded. “alright then, let's do this.”

and to be honest, everything went better than you had expected. the Yamazaki mansion was truly grand, almost overwhelming in its size and elegance. the towering shoji screens, the polished wooden floors, and the delicate tatami mats all spoke of a family with deep roots and considerable influence. people you encountered within its walls — servants, distant relatives, or perhaps close family friends — were polite, yet cold. they carried themselves with an air of reserved dignity, their words carefully chosen, their expressions unreadable.

Gun guided you through the mansion with a familiarity that showed he had once called this place home. as you walked, you couldn't help but notice how much Gun resembled his father. the elder Yamazaki was a stoic man, tall and imposing, dressed in a traditional black kimono with a hakama. he carried an aura of authority, and though his demeanor was stern, there was something in his gaze — something that hinted at a really small softness beneath his cold exterior.

Gun's mother, on the other hand, was an elegant woman, the very picture of grace and strictness, wearing a beautiful, intricately patterned kimono. her hair was pulled back in a traditional style, and her movements were precise and measured. her eyes were sharp, watching you with an intensity that made you feel as if you were being evaluated at every turn. yet, despite the coldness in her gaze, she followed every formality with exacting precision, treating you with the respect and courtesy befitting a guest in their home. she spoke little, but when she did, her words were measured and polite, though they lacked any warmth.

as the evening drew to a close, and the final course after small greeting tea ceremony was cleared away, you felt a sense of relief. it hadn’t been as daunting as you’d feared, and you were proud of how well you’d handled yourself. you expected that Gun would now take you back home, and the two of you would quietly slip away from all formalities and coldness of this house. but then Gun’s father, in his deep, commanding voice, made a suggestion that took you by surprise. “why don’t the two of you stay the night? it’s late, and it wouldn’t be wise to drive in your current state.”

you glanced at Gun, waiting for him to politely decline, but to your shock, he simply nodded. “we’ll stay.”

you blinked in surprise, a slight panic rising in your chest. you were unprepared for an overnight stay, and the idea of spending the night in Gun’s childhood home — under the same roof as his parents — was suddenly very intimidating. you opened your mouth to protest, but Gun leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “don’t worry. my father asked us to stay because he wants to discuss some business matters with me in the morning. just relax.”

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with those words echoing in your head, you found yourself sitting on the edge of the futon, carefully prepared by the staff just a few minutes ago. the evening had been long and emotionally exhausting, but now, in the quiet of Gun’s childhood room, you felt a sense of calm begin to wash over you. after taking a shower, you had washed off the remnants of your makeup, feeling refreshed as the warm water rinsed away the day’s tension. the pleasant residue from the alcohol was still making itself felt, leaving you relaxed as you climbed into bed, where your boyfriend was already waiting for you.

Gun was lying on his back, his dark hair still damp from his own shower, his yukata loosely tied around his waist. as you slid under the covers, you immediately fell into his arms, finding comfort in the warmth of his embrace. you settled comfortably against his chest, inhaling the clean, subtle scent of his shower gel, mingled with the familiar warmth of his skin. it was a scent that was unmistakably his, grounding you in the moment as you let out a contented sigh.

for a few moments, neither of you spoke, simply enjoying the quiet intimacy of being alone together. the soft rustle of the futon as you shifted closer, the gentle rise and fall of Gun’s chest under your cheek — it all felt so peaceful, so right.

but as the silence stretched on, a small thread of anxiety began to tug at the back of your mind, and you couldn’t help but voice the question that had been lingering in your thoughts all evening. “do you think your parents liked me?”

Gun’s chest rumbled with a soft chuckle, and you felt his hand gently stroke your hair. “why do you ask? you were amazing tonight.”

“i just… i don’t know,” you murmured, feeling a little self-conscious. “your father was so serious, and your mother barely smiled. i couldn't tell what they were thinking.”

he let out another soft laugh, tilting your chin up so you could meet his eyes. “that’s just how they are. don’t take it personally. my father rarely smiles, and my mother… well, she’s always been a bit strict. but trust me, you made a good impression.”

you felt a wave of relief at his words, but you couldn’t resist teasing him a little: rolling onto your stomach, you now lay on top of him, folding your arms across his chest and resting your chin on them, you playfully asked "are you sure they're not just being polite to me?"

flicking your nose with his finger, he just laughed in response, the sound deep and genuine, and you couldn’t help but join in, the last remnants of your nerves melting away in the warmth of his laughter. but as your soft giggles subsided, the mood shifted, the lightheartedness giving way to something more intense. Gun’s eyes darkened - more, if it was even possible - as he looked at you, his playful expression fading into one of pure desire. without warning, he moved, his hands gripping your waist as he flipped you onto your back. you let out a surprised gasp, your heart skipping a beat as he loomed over you, his body pressing you into the futon. the sudden shift in his demeanor left you breathless, a thrill of anticipation coursing through you as his face hovered inches from yours.

“Gun…” you whispered, your voice barely audible as he lowered his head, his lips brushing against your neck.

“mmm?” he hummed in response, his breath hot against your skin as he began to trail kisses along the curve of your throat. his hands moved with a deliberate slowness, slipping beneath the folds of your yukata to find the smooth skin of your back. you shivered at his touch, your body responding to the gentle caress of his fingers as they traced a path up and down your spine. his kisses grew more urgent, more passionate, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips moving hungrily against your skin as his hands roamed freely over your body. the fabric of your yukata shifted as he explored, his touch sending sparks of pleasure racing through your veins.

“Gun,” you gasped again, your fingers tangling in his raven hair as you arched into him, craving more of the sensation he was drawing from you. his hands were everywhere, gliding over the curve of your back, sliding down to cup your ass cheeks before moving up again, each touch sending shivers of pleasure rippling through you.

he pulled back slightly, his breath coming in shallow pants as he gazed down at you — your hair, disheveled and slightly damp from the shower, was scattered across the pillows, your breathing was a little ragged and the fabric of your yukata, pulled to the side, opened up a beautiful view of your chest, which was slightly heaving from confusion, your cheeks were burning with excitement and still a small amount of embarrassment, while due to the alcohol you barely remembered where you both were.

with a quiet growl, Gun again clung to your collarbones, his hands moved faster, skillfully, undoing the ties of your robe with practiced ease to pull the unnecessary fabric lower. without moving away from you even for a centimeter, he caressed your neck with his lips, moved up a little higher, biting the lobe of your ear and descending in a wet path lower, again to the collarbones, this time not lingering there, but going lower to your chest, clasping it with one hand and kneading it in his large, calloused palm. with each of his movements, you moved towards him more and more, forgetting yourself and melting in his arms, moaning from his each touch.

as he skillfully make the fabric fell away, leaving you exposed beneath him, he groaned softly, his eyes drinking in the sight of you.

“you are so beautiful” he murmured, his voice filled with reverence as he leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as you melted into the kiss, losing yourself in the sensation of his mouth on yours, his hands on your body. right now there was only Gun, his touch, his warmth, the overwhelming passion that consumed you both.

“please” you whispered into his lips as he rose above you on his elbows again. one of his hands had already slid below your tummy, stroking your pussy with his entire palm, only fleetingly touching the sensitive bundle of nerves, pulling the first loud moan out of you.

“come on kitten, be quiet, you remember where we are” Gun's hot whisper enveloped your ear as his fingers continued to play with your wet pussy. “you know, this is a traditional old style house, the walls here are extremely thin” your boyfriend continued to whisper in your ear, enjoying your once again confused look as your cheeks flushed with renewed vigor. “you don't want anyone to hear us, do you, baby?” now one of his fingers slid up and down between your lips, smearing the moisture oozing out of you all over the entrance. he was lying on his side next to you, one of his hands reached under your neck as he place one finger in your mouth, making you suck and lick it with your tongue, while his other hand never left your pussy, now more insistently stroking and massaging your clit with one finger, while the other played with your tight entrance, pushing finger in just halfway.

time seemed to stand still as you surrendered to him, your body responding to his every caress and touch, every kiss, every whisper. the intensity of the moment, the way he made you feel cherished, desired, loved—it was all-encompassing, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

and that's when you reached your first peak from his fingers caressing you deep inside, when your hot and wet walls tightened around him, and you could no longer stifle your moans with his fingers behind your cheek, only then Gun smiled insidiously, and with one light movement turned your softened body back onto your stomach. without wasting a second, his hands dug into the soft skin of your sides, right where he could feel the pelvic bones, and with your clouded brain you already assumed that there would be traces there in the morning. reaching for a pillow, and pushing it between your thighs and the futon, Gun hurriedly, casually stroked your pussy, passing from bottom to top, collecting all the juices of your previous orgasm, simultaneously stroking his cock, smearing mix of your saliva and his own spit along the entire length.

whimpering softly and burying your head in the pillow, in an attempt to stifle your moans, you gasped, clutching at the edges of the futon and the blanket under you, as the fat tip of his dick slowly squeezed into your tensed, gummy folds, painfully stretching you. a deep and heavy moan was heard from behind when Gun collapsed on top of you with all his weight, completely plunging his fat dick into your bosom, in one sharp movement, immediately hitting the g-spot, forcing you to arch your back, pressing your ass harder into his hips. with a satisfied purr, Gun covered your hands with his own, fastening them together into a lock, again leaning closer to you with his all body, pressing you into the thin mattress, he began to slowly move inside your warmth.

with each strong thrust, as he picked up speed, with each of his heavy breaths into your neck, it became harder for you to hold your ass higher, as well as your moans, almost drowned out by the pillow. over and over, as Gun's thick cock filled your gummy, warm walls completely, your eyelids grew heavy and your head fell back, right on his shoulder, as your jaw dropped, allowing sweet moans and whimpers to escape from your throat.

“kitten still wants the whole house to hear her, mm?” your boyfriend purrs breathlessly in your ear, mercilessly hammering into your poor pussy, forcing you to give up, and fall on the bed with your whole body, and only moan piteously when one of his arms wraps around your neck and closes your mouth, and the other one gets tangled in your hair, pulling it back just a little.

you never doubted that in the matter of bed, Gun always was a bit more wild and animalistic, but the way his hips slammed into you now, how heavy balls were beating against your clit, and the dirty sounds of squelching and slapping skin against skin, how his biceps tensed right where your cheek lay, all this made your eyes roll up to the back of your head and just whine pathetically under him and drool on his muscles.

you didn't even have the strength left, to hold still, all that helped him mercilessly hammer you into the mattress was the pillow under your hips while you lay under him and helplessly muttering incoherent words and praises. both intoxicated by the euphoria of sex, emotions and feelings, the two of you have lost your sense of time and space, just chasing your own peak and pleasure. to be honest, you didn't think much when your pussy covered Gun's twitching dick with cream, when he hitted his pink head right to the cervix, forcing you to scream and arch towards him, pressing your ass into his hips, and feel with your shoulder blades as his chest pressing you into bed.

and to be completely honest, you almost didn't remember how you both cum, the most important thing that was in front of your eyes was Gun's chest and his warm hand gently caressing your back, while he murmured something into your hair, when he covered you both with a blanket and you fell into a sweet sleep.

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BONUS ;

the morning sunlight filtered softly through the shoji screens, casting a gentle glow over the room. you blinked awake, feeling the warmth of the futon and the lingering scent of Gun beside you. but as you turned over, reaching out to pull him closer, you found his side of the bed empty and cold. confusion washed over you as you sat up, realizing he was gone.

events of the night before came rushing back, and a deep blush crept over your cheeks. you buried your face in your hands, mortified at the thought of facing anyone after what had happened. Gun's parents, the staff — how could you possibly look them in the eye now? the thought of leaving the room made your heart race with anxiety, so you resolved to stay put, hoping to avoid any awkward encounters. minutes ticked by, each one stretching out into what felt like an eternity. you had no idea where Gun had gone or when he'd be back, leaving you in an uncomfortable solitude.

and just as you were about to retreat further under the covers, there was a soft knock at the door. your heart skipped a beat, dread pooling in your stomach. before you could respond, the door slid open, and Gun’s mother stepped inside.

she was impeccably dressed, her expression calm and composed. you immediately lowered your gaze, unable to meet her eyes, but she approached with a certain grace, her footsteps barely making a sound on the tatami mats.

“good morning,” she greeted you, her voice steady.

“m-mrs. Yamazaki,” you stammered, still unable to look up. “i-i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to-”

“stop,” she interrupted, her tone firm but not unkind. “you have nothing to be sorry of. it’s natural.”

you finally dared to glance up at her, confusion flickering in your eyes. she took a seat beside you on the futon, her movements deliberate and serene. “you’re a woman, and you’re desired and loved. there’s nothing shameful about that. that’s just the nature of men — wild and unbridled when a woman is around. i was in your place once, and someday, you’ll be in mine.”

you blinked, taken aback by her words. was that… a blessing?

“wait,” you began hesitantly, “so… you heard everything?”

mrs. Yamazaki let out a soft sigh, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. “i’m not an idiot. from beginning i saw the way my son looks at you. and i know Yuzuru well enough, and what’s going on in his head, to prepare your bedroom far away from our own.”

your cheeks burned hotter, the mortification almost unbearable. “so… you didn’t hear?”

she paused, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “let’s say the whole mansion didn’t hear you… but maybe some part of it did.”

you swore you caught a fleeting, light, and kind laugh in her voice, and for a moment, the tension between you eased. there was a warmth in her tone that you hadn’t expected, something almost motherly and understanding.

“i...” you trailed off, still unsure of what to say.

mrs. Yamazaki reached out, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “you are welcome here, as long as you make my son happy. and believe me, i haven't seen him this happy in a very long time.”

her words soothed some of the anxiety gnawing at you, and you managed a small, grateful smile. “thank you.”

she nodded, standing up gracefully. “now, come along. breakfast is ready.” as she turned to leave, you felt a sense of relief, the earlier embarrassment slowly fading.

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author's note 3 ; I FOUGHT INNER DEMONS TO FINISH IT I SWEAR!! SORRY THAT SPICY PART WASN’T THAT JUICY AND STUFF, I STILL NEED TO LEARN HOW TO WRITE PORN…HOPE U GUYS LIKE IT😤😤🫶🏻

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archiveofvirtue · 2 months ago

Text

COLLEGE SWEETHEARTS ⸻ sam winchester

content / sam winchester x female!oc, use of y/n, fluff, stanford sam, pre season one sam, college sweethearts, friends to lovers, mentions of alcohol, drunk reader, 2.7k words

summary / it's been no secret that you have the biggest crush on your friend Sam, it is so obvious that even Sam himself knows about it. As you are on your way home from a college party your intoxicated body almost independently moves towards his dorm, the alcohol in your system making you have the courage to finally let him know how you feel, but will it change anything or just mess up your friendship?

Your laughter filled the night air as you stumbled out of the bar with your friends, the soft glow of the campus lights making everything feel a little magical. You felt warm from the drinks, cheeks flushed and grinning as the cold nipped at your skin. You weren’t just tipsy—you were full on drunk. And in that dizzy, carefree state, only one thought floated to the top of your mind:

Sam Winchester.

You’d always had a thing for Sam. He wasn’t like the other guys on campus—where they were loud and carefree, Sam was more grounded, reserved, and just…different. There was a gentle kindness in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat every time he looked at you. He never joined in on nights out, preferring his books over beer, and you kind of loved that about him.

Your friends were still giggling over something as they walked ahead, but your mind was somewhere else entirely, caught up in a slightly reckless idea—a terrible, wonderful, alcohol-fueled idea. Without thinking it through, you sneaked away from the group, mumbling something about needing to go back to the dorms.

Your feet carried you almost automatically to Sam's dorm. You had been there before, of course, but never like this. It was well past 2am, and the campus was quiet, most students either still out or already asleep. Your pulse quickened as you reached his door, a rush of nerves mixing with the alcohol in your veins.

You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should really do this. But the liquid courage surged up again, and you knocked on his door.

Inside, Sam was typing the last few lines of his paper. He had a deadline to meet, and while most of his classmates had been out enjoying their Friday night, he had been stuck in his room, working. He didn't mind though—this was how he preferred it. The quiet of the night allowed him to focus.

The knock startled him, his hands pausing over the keyboard. Wondering who could be knocking at his door this late? He wasn't expecting anyone. With a frown, he stood up and crossed the room, opening the door carefully.

And there you were, hair slightly tousled, your eyes bright but unfocused. Your smile was a bit lopsided, and you looked up at him with a mix of nervousness and determination.

"Y/N?" Sam's voice was surprised but soft. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you," you said, your words slightly slurred. "I was out with the girls, and...I don't know, I just...wanted to see you."

Sam sighed, glancing down the hallway before gently pulling you inside. "You shouldn't be wandering around alone at this hour," he mumbled, more concerned than anything.

You let him guide you into the room, where you plopped down on his bed, giggling. "I know, I know. But I missed you. You never come out with us, Sam. Why don't you ever come out with us?"

He smiled a little, closing the door behind you and leaning against his desk. "You know I'm not really into that scene," he said, watching you as you layed back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"I think you'd have fun," you murmured. "I'd make sure of it."

There was something about the way you said it, a note of vulnerability beneath your playful words, that made Sam's heart ache a little. He had known for a while that you had a crush on him—it wasn't exactly a secret. And the truth was, he liked you too, more than he probably should. But he had always kept a respectful distance, not wanting to destroy the special bond you two shared.

You rolled onto your side, gaze locking with his. "Sam..." you started, voice a little more serious now. "Why don't you ever make a move?"

The question hung in the air between you two, heavy with the weight of unspoken feelings. Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Y/N, you're drunk," he said gently. "This isn't the right time for this conversation."

"Maybe not," you admitted, eyes dropping to the floor. "But it's how I feel. And I think you feel something too. Or am I wrong?"

Sam didn't answer immediately. He walked over to the bed and sat down next to you, his gaze fixed on the floor. "You're not wrong," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I don't want to take advantage of how you're feeling right now."

You sat up, expression softening as you reached out to take his hand. "Sam, I might be drunk, but I'm not lying. I like you. I really like you."

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and for a moment, he saw the possibility of falling for you completely, gently caressing the back of your hand. The tension between you two seemed to thicken, growing heavier with every passing second. Your blurry gaze lingered on him, lips slightly parted as you were about to speak—but no words came out. The silence between you two wasn't awkward, rather peaceful.

Sam felt it too, the pull between you. He had always been careful around you, keeping a safe distance, but tonight—tonight felt different. Your eyes were searching his face for something, breath slow and uneven, and for the first time, Sam allowed himself to really see you, to admit to the feelings he'd buried so deeply.

"Sam..." you whispered, voice barely audible, and before he could process what was happening, you leaned in. Your lips hovered near his, breath warm against his skin. Sam’s heart raced, and his hand instinctively reached up to brush a strand of your hair from your face. You were so close, eyes half-closed, and for a moment, he could picture it—the two of you crossing that invisible line.

Then your lips touched his, soft and hesitant, and Sam nearly gave in, nearly let himself fall into the moment. He kissed you back, just for a second, and it was exactly how you imagined—sweet and tender.

But then, reality hit Sam. The taste of alcohol on your lips, the slight stumble in your movements—you were drunk. And as much as he wanted this, he couldn't let it happen like this.

He pulled back, breaking the kiss gently but firmly, his hands coming up to hold your shoulders, keeping a small but significant distance between you two.

"Y/N," he breathed out. "We can't. Not like this."

Your eyes fluttered open, confusion and hurt flashing across your face. "Why?" You asked softly, voice filled with disappointment. "I thought you wanted this too..."

"I do," Sam admitted, his thumb brushing the back of your hand again. "I really do. But you're not sober right now. And I don't want us to do something you'll regret in the morning."

You stared at him, your expression shifting from disappointment to understanding. He was right.

You lowered your head, shoulders dropping slightly as you nodded. "You're right," you whispered. "I'm sorry...I shouldn't have—"

"Hey," Sam interrupted, gently lifting your chin so your eyes met again. "You don't need to apologize. I just want to make sure we do this right. So let's talk about this once you're sober, okay?"

For a moment, you just looked at him, eyes searching his for reassurance. It wasn't rejection, but more of a promise, that when it happened, it would be real, and it would be right.

You two sat there in silence for a few moments, the tension from before easing into something more comfortable. Your eyes were starting to droop, the tiredness finally catching up to you. Sam noticed and stood up, pulling a blanket from the end of his bed and wrapping it around your shoulders.

"You can sleep here tonight," he said softly. "I'll take the armchair."

You wanted to protest, to tell him he didn't have to do that, but your eyelids were too heavy, and the warmth of the blanket was too inviting. "Okay," you mumbled, already half asleep.

As you drifted off, Sam sat back down at his desk, his paper forgotten. His thoughts were too tangled to focus on anything else. He watched you for a moment, your face peaceful in sleep, and he knew he had a lot to think about.

But for now, he was fine to just watch over you, keeping you safe.

The light of the early hours burned in your sleepy eyes as you woke up. Your head pounded, a faint reminder of the night before, and you groaned softly, pressing a hand to your temple. The unfamiliar softness beneath you made you frown in confusion, half-opened eyes taking in the room around you.

This wasn't your dorm room.

Panic rushed through you, suddenly feeling wide awake. You sat up quickly, heart racing as you tried to piece together where you were and how you had gotten here. The room was neat, decorated with books stacked on a desk, a laptop sitting open next to a pile of papers. It was a guy's room, that much was obvious, but—

Then it hit you. Sam. This was Sam's room.

The memories from the previous night began to replay themselves in your head, one by one. The girls' night out, the drinks, your impulsive decision to stop by Sam's dorm, the confession you'd made while drunk out of your mind, the kiss. Heat flooded your cheeks as you recalled the way you'd practically thrown yourself at him, only for him to gently but firmly turn you down.

"Oh my God," you whispered to yourself, burying your face in your hands. The embarrassment was overwhelming, making your stomach twist. You couldn't believe you had done that, that you had put Sam in such an awkward position. And now, you were in his room, wearing the same clothes from the night before, makeup smudged, and your hair a mess.

You glanced over to the armchair beside the bed, where a blanket lay crumpled. Sam must have slept there, giving up his bed for you. You felt greatful, yet ashamed. He had been nothing but kind and respectful, even when you had obviously crossed a line.

You needed to get out of there before he came back. You weren't ready to face him, not with everything still so fresh in your mind. You couldn't bear the thought of seeing the pity—or worse, the awkwardness—in his eyes.

Slipping out of bed as quietly as possible, you grabbed your shoes and tiptoed toward the exit. You figured you could slip out, go back to your own dorm, and maybe you could pretend this never happened. You could ghost him for a while, let things cool down, and hope the next time you two saw each other, it wouldn't be as humiliating as this.

Your hand was on the doorknob, ready to twist it open, when the door suddenly swung open, revealing Sam on the other side.

You froze, shoes in one hand, your face burning as your eyes met.

"Y/N," Sam said, his voice warm with surprise. He was holding two paper cups of coffee, and his expression softened when he saw you standing there, clearly about to bolt. "Hey, I was just coming back."

For a moment, you just stared at each other. Your mind raced, trying to come up with something, anything, to say. But all you could blurt out was a weak, "Hi."

Sam smiled gently, holding out one of the cups. "I got you some coffee. Thought you might need it."

You hesitated, still embarrassed, but the kindness in his gesture was impossible to ignore. Slowly, you took the cup from him, your fingers brushing his for the briefest moment. "Thanks," you murmured.

Sam stepped back, allowing you to move away from the door, and you reluctantly let go of the doorknob, returning to the center of the room.

"You didn't have to do that," you said, voice small. "The coffee, I mean. Or...any of this."

Sam set his own cup down on the desk and turned to face you. "I wanted to," he said simply. "Y/N, about last night..."

Your heart sank at the words, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze. "Look, Sam, I'm really sorry about everything. I was drunk and stupid, and I shouldn't have put you in that position. I totally understand if you're upset or if things are weird now. I was just going to leave, so you didn't have to deal with—"

"Hey, stop," Sam interrupted gently, taking a step closer. "I'm not upset. And things don't have to be weird unless we let them."

You looked at him, confused. "But I...what I said last night..."

"You were honest," Sam said, his voice steady. "Maybe it wasn't the best timing, and yeah, you were drunk, but I know those feelings are real. I've been thinking about what you said."

You swallowed hard, mouth feeling dry. "And?"

"And I don't want you to feel embarrassed about it," he continued. "I like you, y/n. I have for a while now. But I wanted to make sure that if we talked about this, we were both in the right headspace."

A tiny flicker of hope spread inside you, but you were still nervous about what this all meant. "So...where does that leave us?" You asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Sam smiled, and it was the kind of smile that made your heart flutter. "It leaves us wherever we want to go," he said. "We can take things slow, talk about it more when you're ready, but I don't want to pretend like last night didn't happen. I care about you, y/n."

The nervousness inside you faded, replaced by relief and excitement.

"Okay," you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I'd like that."

Sam's expression brightened, and he reached out, gently taking your hand in his. "Good," he said. "How about we start with breakfast? I know a place off-campus that has the best pancakes."

You laughed, the tension finally beginning to ease. "That sounds perfect."

And just like that, you left the room together, feeling the start of something new. You didn’t know where this would go, but with Sam, you were ready to find out.

feedback and requests are greatly appreciated !!

#sam winchester x reader #spnfandom #supernatural #writers on tumblr #oneshot #sam winchester #supernatural fanfiction #sam x reader #sam girl #sammy

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comicaurora · 2 years ago

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do you have any tips on writing soft magic systems? I only ever see them talked about when people are comparing it to hard magic systems or criticising it, which is a shame because I love systems where magic is just in the background being unimportant, with implied rules that will never be explained

god I wrote up like eight paragraphs of explanation and I was really working out some cool stuff there and then the app glitched and destroyed it all and I'm so upset

Unfortunately this reduces to a previous problem, which is "figure out how Tolkien did it and then do that."

Middle Earth is laden with magic. Hobbits being good at hiding is magic. There's a random throne in the ruins at the end of Fellowship that lets whoever sits in it see literally the entire world, and that's hella magic. Aragorn radiates One True King magic and occasionally heals people with a touch. Galadriel's mirror lets people see any point in time, past or future. Gandalf knows several spells, but most of the time he's doing less granular stuff by making lights or small fires or going all Servant Of The Secret Fire Wielder Of The Flame Of Anor etc etc. Elves are inherently so magical that the words of their language are never forgotten by anyone who hears them, the laws of physics don't apply to them, their havens are magically pleasant and beautiful, and the planet itself is magical for them - flat for the elves, round for everybody else.

The benefit of a soft magic system is that it produces a feeling in the characters and audience that the world is vast, wonderful and unknowable. It's at its best when it can answer why, but not how.

Why did the old empire of men have a throne that let you see the entire world? That makes sense! It's hugely tactically advantageous! HOW did they get the damn thing? No idea, doesn't matter, they clearly made it work somehow because the throne's right there. Why does Galadriel's mirror give you limited, randomized omniscience? Because while it's a useful tool if you can use it, seeing the future is a dicey and weird game, and the future can change if someone knows it's coming. HOW does riverwater in a birdbath do that? No idea.

Soft magic systems start running into difficulties when the writer needs to decide how it can or can't solve a given situation, which is a very common issue in storytelling, a format almost entirely centered on problems and solutions. For hard magic systems with clear parameters on what is and isn't possible, this is comparatively quite easy. The wizard can't magic this problem away because-

They're out of spell slots :(

They don't know a specific spell that can do that specific thing

There's another caster nearby stopping them

The object that lets them do magic isn't working

They need to speak words/do gestures/use materials to cast, and they can't for whatever reason

There's something "antimagic" around stopping them

Etc etc. The possibilities are easy to run through, because the "how" is clearly defined, and can be negated into a "how NOT." If magic uses spell slots, stop the characters using it by taking those slots away. If magic needs a material focus, break or destroy it. This prevents magic from feeling like an unsatisfying "a wizard did it" fix for all difficulties because the wizards can only do specific things under specific circumstances.

Soft magic systems can contrive answers to this too, but it can be a bit tricky to justify, and if it's Too Convenient it can feel like the magic system really just does what the writer needs it to do. When asked "why can't magic solve this problem?" soft magic systems can answer in several ways:

Too tired, sorry :( magic is Taxing and stuff so the caster can tip over whenever's convenient

They're in a Bad Vibes zone that's hindering their ability to cast because soft magic can be impeded by soft problems like "somebody was very mean here once"

That specific magic is tied to a specific location, like a magical elf forest, and doesn't work outside of it because it's intrinsic to the place and can't be replicated

There's another magical being around and their kung-fu is more powerful

These explanations work, but that's conditional on the story not making the audience think the magic SHOULD work in this situation, and this is entirely based on what's been established in the story thus far. If the wizard has been able to fly up until now, parking the gang at the bottom of the cliff and saying "sorry, fly machine broke" feels contrived. But if we've only ever seen other, intrinsically magical beings fly, the audience is unlikely to expect that the party's humble wizard will suddenly bust out a set of feathery wings as a gift from baby jesus himself. On the writing side, it's really a matter of feeling it out and making sure nothing feels too jarring - if the character who's previously displayed a certain specific space of abilities suddenly does something completely unrelated (like going from clairvoyance to slinging fireballs, or from a healing touch to earthbending) that feels inconsistent AND it teaches the audience that this soft magic system is softer than they realized, and can then make it much harder for the writer to then convince them that this caster CAN'T spontaneously manifest a power or gimmick that'll save them. But if the magical characters or objects operate within a specific space - one character that specializes in fire, one object that specializes in remote viewing, one artifact that lets its holder control the winds - then the audience will expect and accept things that fit in those broad, soft categories without speculating too much on the underlying "how" of their mechanics.

But the temptation to explain "how" is very strong for writers, and soft magic systems especially have trouble with this, because soft magic systems start calcifying into fragmentary hard systems when they're forced to explain "how". It locks in a hard-defined axiom that can be logically extrapolated. Because a soft system is not DESIGNED for that kind of internal logic, doing that will usually cause axiomatic collisions as they contradict one another. If a hard system is a crisp, geometric crystalline structure where any tangent line drawn through it will intersect cleanly with other lines in very predictable ways, adding "how"s to a soft magic system is like drawing tangent lines through a bowl of pudding - you're gonna get a lot of intersections in awkward places.

To pull an example out of absolutely nowhere, if a soft system without clear rules establishes something like "this spell can be used to summon an object towards the caster, but it DOES NOT WORK on living things", there are a number of questions that can become relevant:

Who made that spell to have those limitations?

Why can't WE make spells that DON'T have that limitation?

How is the spell defining "living things"? Would it work on a plant or a skeleton or a piercing in someone's body?

Why did you let this character use it on a living thing anyway, joanne?

In a lot of soft systems that try to lock in hard spell parameters, "who made these spells" and "why can't WE make spells" become the first and most obvious axiomatic clash. If magic can be created to do what the caster wants, why and how does that work, and why can't WE do it? This forces the writer to come up with an explanation to solve the clash without letting the protagonists make up whatever spells they want, therefore solving all plot problems forever - sometimes something like "the inventors of spells were intrinsically magical beings, like elves or dragons or whatever, and thus we ordinary scrub mortals can't make new ones." That's a functional explanation, but it reduces to a previous problem again - that this hard-ish magic system was created by someone with access to an unstructured soft system.

In a soft magic system, the only answer to the question "how does this magical thing work" is "because magic." If any other explanation is needed, things rapidly collapse into hard lines and axioms and covering for edge cases. How can elves run on powder snow, shoot targets in the dark and see for hundreds of miles? They're magical. Does that mean they can fly like a balrog or sling fire like gandalf or control weather like saruman maybe can? No, of course not, that's not their kind of magic and we have no reason to expect it from them. They're just magic. Magic means a lot of different things, and in a soft system the audience has to operate based on vibes rather than rules.

This can be difficult to balance. For instance, Star Wars has a soft system in The Force, and if you squint, every single movie and show uses it differently. It's not super disruptive to the audience's immersion because it's never framed like a Hard System with Hard Rules and it almost never pulls something out of COMPLETELY nowhere, but if you look at what it does from movie to movie and then show to show, it expands from "influence the wills of the weak-minded", "seeing the future a little bit" and "force choking" to "general telekinesis" and "limited telepathy" to "FUCKING LIGHTNING FROM THE HANDS MAN" which is a hell of a twist the first time you see it, to some even more buckwild stuff in the two different animated Clone Wars (like Mace Windu fighting an entire droid army Samurai Jack style and using the force to pull every bolt out of one of them at once, or the planet with the living incarnations of the Light and Dark Side) and the explanation never goes further than "The Force is magic, it's in everything, people who are good at The Force can use it to do a buncha stuff." It's not consistent, it doesn't have rules, but the audience accepts that Force users can just kind of do stuff that fits the Vibes of the stuff it's already been shown it can do. And as SOON as they tried to say "The Force is strong in people who have LOTS OF MIDICHLORIANS" everybody hated it, because it gave us a "how" answer to a question nobody wanted to ask and it made this pervasive, wonderous, soft magic system that Surrounds And Binds Us Luminous Beings Are We into "we are space wizards because we contain an above-average number of bugs."

As a chronic worldbuilder myself, I absolutely understand the impulse to explain and overexplain and lock in the Hows and the Whys, but as far as I can figure it, soft magic systems live and die on the writer's ability to restrain themselves from saying "how." The answer is "magic." The rest is just writing the story in such a way that "magic" doesn't become plot-breaking.

#asks #writing stuff

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starlightkun · 5 months ago

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baby fangs ❧ teaser [mark]

❧ teaser word count: 1245 | full fic: 26.7k ❧ warnings: none for the teaser! ❧ genre: fluff, strangers to lovers, modern magical creatures au, basilisk mark, sphinx reader, age gap (older reader), college student mark, career woman reader, ft. various magical neos, human renjun, human johnny (and other very special guest appearances), same universe as strawberry sunday ❧ extra info: this work is set in the same universe as strawberry sunday but can be read as a standalone! there is no continuing plotline between fics in this universe, they simply take place in the same world/magic system and may have overlapping characters (neos may pop up in more than one work!) ❧ estimated release: saturday, june 22, 2024 3:00 p.m. eastern time

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ explore the strawberry sunday universe more here!

After putting your leftovers away in your fridge, you were about to head off to your bedroom when you heard the distant shuffle of footsteps over your welcome mat. You paused at the threshold of your kitchen to your living room, waiting to see if whoever it was would actually ring the doorbell, or just keep… well, it sounded like they were pacing anxiously. Finally, there were a couple soft taps on your front door. If you were a human, you weren’t sure if you would have even heard that. Your footsteps were soft across your carpeted floor as you moved to answer the door. First looking out the peephole, your interest was piqued when you saw a young man standing there who was neither Chenle nor Jisung. Though you did have an idea of exactly what this was about.

Undoing your deadbolt, latch, then disarming the alarm, you opened the door just enough for you to cross your arms over your chest and lean against the doorframe. “I accept apologies in the form of cash or groveling.”

“Huh?” The young man stared at you wide-eyed, open-mouthed, and dumb-founded. You took note of his slit pupils, and the two fangs that hadn’t yet fully descended from his top jaw. Huh, basilisk.

“Did the boys not send you over here to be the sacrificial lamb?” You cocked your head and looked him up and down perhaps too obviously, as he shifted nervously under your gaze. A very timid basilisk at that. You eyed the oversized t-shirt he had on that had the same university logo that you’d often seen your neighbors wearing. “You are one of Chenle and Jisung’s friends, right?”

“Oh, y-yeah, I am. I’m Mark. Mark Lee.” He took one of his hands out from where he’d stuffed them into the pockets of his joggers, wiped it on the leg of said joggers, and held it out to you. As he got close enough to shake your hand, you could finally smell him. Sphinx noses weren’t as sensitive as werewolves’ or vampires’—or basilisk tongues for that matter. Not to mention that basilisks just didn’t have as strong of a scent as most other beings. They had a mild, earthen smell that reminded you of peat freshly after rain. Others tended to make less favorable comparisons such as damp caverns or even mildewy caves, but those ideas never occurred to you. Maybe it was because one of your own childhood best friends was a basilisk, so you were just used to the smell and had positive memories associated with it.

You couldn’t conceal the amusement on your face as you delicately shook his hand, now very aware of his clammy palms. “It’s nice to meet you, Mark, I’m Y/N. Now if they didn’t send you over with your big brown eyes and sweet face in an attempt to distract me from the ruckus you all were making earlier, then why are you on my doorstep?”

“Wait, you can look at my eyes?” There was a noticeable drag on his s’es when he spoke, which you noted with a certain fondness. He must be young enough to have missed most, if not all, of the mandatory speech therapy that the basilisks of your cohort and before went through during primary and secondary school. It was removed from the curriculum for being unfair and prejudiced against the creatures, but that was after your time. You could remember your friend Jongin being singled out to leave class three times a week for the “therapy.” Even now he could still recall the name of the instructor who led it, his voice filling with bitter vitriol on the rare occasions he’d choose to talk about it.

“I’m a sphinx, honey. You couldn’t petrify me if you tried,” you informed Mark knowingly. Now you were curious as to why he was out and about without magical eye protection or at least non-magical sunglasses if he was apparently so worried about petrifying people. But, not curious enough to divert you from your original mission. “Now, why are you here?”

“O-Oh, right, uhm, I’m really sorry for bothering you, ma’am, it’s just that I went to go get something from my car but then I realized that I forgot my keys in their apartment and I came back up to get them but I locked myself out. My phone’s in the apartment too, and I tried knocking but they’re not answering and—”

“They fell asleep in the two minutes you were gone?” You cut him off, raising your eyebrows slightly in disbelief.

“No, no, they were already asleep. You see, uhm, I’m crashing on their couch tonight and—”

“Got it, got it.” You nodded. Well, that explains the lack of sunglasses. They were also presumably locked in the apartment. “So, what do you want from me?”

“Can I borrow your phone really quick, just to try to call them and see if they’ll pick up? Again, I’m really, really sorry about this.”

“I will actually do you one better, Mark.” You did a small shooing gesture, and he seemed to get the idea, taking a couple steps back. Once he was off of your welcome mat, you lifted up the corner and grabbed the key that was sitting under there. You held it out to him. “Here.”

“Uh—”

“It’s their spare key, not mine.” You reassured him. “When they moved in, they asked if they could hide it under my mat because it would be too obvious to burglars for their spare key to be under their mat.”

“O-Oh.” Mark gingerly took the key from you. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Mark, one more thing.”

“Anything!” He blurted out, then his entire face flushed as he scrambled to tone it down. “I mean, y-yeah, of course, ma’am, what do you need?”

You couldn’t help but smirk as you requested, “Stop calling me ma’am.”

“Right, sorry.”

“You can call me Y/N.”

“O-Okay!” The basilisk smiled at you brightly, another flash of his not-yet fully developed baby fangs. He presumably was only a year or so out from his first molting. They were cute. He was... cute.

“Goodnight, Mark.” You stepped back and grabbed the edge of your door, preparing to close it.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

His eyes didn’t leave you the entire time as you shut the door. Curious, you peered out your peephole. Mark flicked his forked snake tongue out in the air once before he made his way over to your neighbors’ door. The boys had a corner apartment, meaning that despite the two apartments sharing a wall, their door was actually perpendicular to yours, so you could see it from your peephole. You watched Mark unlock the apartment, then dart back over to yours and bend over to lift up your mat. You froze, not expecting him to immediately return the key. You figured he’d just give it back to his friends in the morning. He paused after he’d put the key under the mat again, tongue once more testing the air. You held your breath, waiting for a paralyzing one, two seconds before he finally left again. You didn’t relax fully until the boys’ apartment door had closed behind him, though. You wanted to hit yourself. What were you even nervous about? A grown woman being caught standing by your own apartment door? By some random college kid? Ridiculous. You scoffed, doing up your locks, latches, and alarm again.

⤷ anthology masterlist | blog masterlist

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readychilledwine · 1 year ago

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helloooo! had a super random idea that I thought I’d throw your way but if you don’t want to write it, no worries! i know there’s not really dragons in acotar but what if one of the bat boys (whoever you want to write this for) encounters a group of dragons and find an illyrian with them who was raised by dragons. (The dragons think she’s one of them bc she has wings lol) a female who was abandoned by their parents because they wanted a son or something like that. (but now I’m thinking what if she was cassian’s long lost sister or something but in that case obviously she wouldn’t be paired with cassian lol) and she’s basically like half feral and whoever you pair her with is her mate and cannot convince her to go with them to velaris but they figure it out somehow 🥹 and when they finally do she’s just like baffled by simple things like dresses and kitchen utensils and how soft their beds are 😂 and now the night court has a small army of dragons because they listen to her 🤷🏽‍♀️ you can make her an OC if you want!

I can respond to this now that Bound by Fate Part 3 is up and has some traction 🤣 I was going to ask if you got into my Google drive somehow. Kaylee is going to have a similar journey to this only Kaylee's is going to be based on the concept that magic has a price, and the more magic she uses, the bigger the price, where as this journey will be about finding her humanity.

I'm pretty excited about this. Not gonna lie. 💜

Flight Patterns Part 1

Summary - After years of hushed whispers and leads, Azriel has finally found Cassian's lost sister, Aerilyn. What he found with her was unexpected, though.

Warnings - violence

A/n - Aerilyn is going to be fairly feral for these first few parts. Also, she speaks sindarian (like Lord of the Rings elves sindarian, so translations will be at the end of the chapters)

Part Two Part Three

Aerilyn stared at the male wrapped in shadows as if she'd never seen another illyrian before. As if she'd never seen another fae before, Azriel thought to himself.

She was beautiful, exactly as he had expected her to be, with her long dark hair cascading into waves behind her, her tanned unmarked skin, the bright burning hazel eyes. She was a softer, smaller, and delicate version of Cassian.

Azriel approached her slowly, his hands raised in front of him. " I do not want to hurt you. I have been looking for you for a very, very long time." Over 319 years to be exact. With you right under our noses this whole time, he thought bitterly to himself.

She had been left to die after her wings were taken. Thrown into the Illyrian woods beaten and bloodied before Cassian eventually burnt that Camp to the ground. She was three at the time. How she survived was a mystery, one Azriel knew they'd need to figure out.

She eyed him cautiously, her head tilted to the side before taking a step back and away from him. "I won't hurt you, Aerilyn." Her eyes narrowed, but then she suddenly relaxed. A small smile forming on her face as Azriel felt the ground shaking behind him.

He felt the warm breath of whatever it was before the deep growl came. His eyes shut slowly at the scent of ember and rot that lingered in the air. He turned slowly, feeling shock set into his system as he sat face to face with a fire Drake. He felt the ground rumble again, then again, and once more. Rhys. I'm going to need help. Now. Drop whatever the fuck you're doing.

Cassian and Rhys appeared beside him instantly. A grumbled, "Cauldron fucking drown me," leaving the generals mouth as they all stood back to back. "Azriel, what the fuck?"

Azriel looked to where Aerilyn stood, her eyes locked on Cassian and her head tilted to the side. "She knows you, Cass. And they're protecting her." He could tell his brother was avoiding looking at her. Avoiding the pain that'd come from how much she truly looked like their mother.

Rhysand grabbed their hands. "You have 30 seconds, Cassian or I'm getting us the fuck out of here."

Cassian glanced at his little sister, his heart tightening in his chest at how small she was. They held eye contact for a moment and he lowered his weapons and held his hands up to her. He took one step and an immediate growl and shift came from the winged beast closest to him. A deep warning not to approach her. "Would she have memories of anything specific? Something special between the two of you?" Rhys asked softly. "I can't get into her head. It's.. it's a mess, Cassian."

Cassian didn't notice the feather light touch in Rhysand's jaw, the way his eyes kept flickering to the female in concern. Azriel had, though. He noted the immediate change in Rhysand's body language. The calm and composed High Lord was struggling to maintain himself.

Azriel would have laughed if there wasn't a black scaled beast staring him down as if he was nothing more than a delicious snack.

Cassian spoke to her softly. "When you were little, you had a little stuffed bunny. His name was Sir Hop." A flicker of recognition went across her face. Cassian took a small step forward. The beast growled softer this time. "I still have him," the soft confession hung in the air. "Rhysand's mom enchanted it. She made sure he'd never stop smelling like you. You could not sleep without him or me. Mom said you just tossed and turned crying constantly if he went missing or I was gone. I always worried about if you were sleeping when our father ripped me from the house." Another tentative step, but no growl chilling the three of them to the core.

She studied Cassian hard. Stepping close to him until they were but an arms length away. Her brain knew him. It screamed for her to remember him. She didn't understand all of his words, but she knew his voice. His scent. "Come with me," Cassian offered. "Come home with me."

"Cassian, 5 seconds. If she does not take your hand in 5 seconds, we are done here." Rhys warned as one of the beasts, a lighter Grey monster that seemed to blend into its surroundings leaned closer to the High Lord and growled.

For whatever reason, this beast wanted him dead.

"Duar," a feminine voice that reminded Rhysand of finely aged wine, spoke softly. The beast coiled away from him with one last growl. She was so close to Cassian, breathing in the scent of a warm fire and winter winds.

"You have a freckle on your ribs," Cassian whispered, his hand reaching out to touch right above her heart. "Right here." She allowed him to bring her into him. He held her close as her arms stayed at her side.

Rhys took the chance, his hands shooting for Cassian and Azriel and winnowing them back to the townhouse with heavy breaths.

The hug was no longer gentle, not as her fight began. Aerilyn kicked, screamed, and fought as Cassian pulled her into the warded house. Madja was there and ready, knowing the girl would need medical attention and an evaluation.

After watching her land a harsh closed fist onto Rhysand's cheek as he spoke to her, Madja immediately switched what she had planned, grabbing a needle filled with a sedative and shoving it into the illyrian female's arm.

"I'm sorry," Cassian cried as he lowered her to the floor. "I'm so fucking sorry. Shhhh it's okay. It's okay, you're safe."

His sister fell asleep in his arms, wrapped tight against his body as he rocked her back and forth against his chest.

Rhysand held his jaw, "She knows s few words and the alphabet. We will need to work on that to communicate with her," he ground out. "She can speak an ancient language I do not even know, but Amren might. Also, she's my fucking mate."

Cassian watched in silence as Rhysand left the room, went upstairs, and slammed another door shut with a soft click to indicate he had locked it.

Madja inclined her head to the bed they had ready for her, "Lay her down. I don't need her awake to know how healthy she is or what she needs."

Duar - "stop/hault"

#acotar #rhys acotar #rhysand x oc #batboys #rhysand acotar #multi part fic

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misguidedasgardian · 2 months ago

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Wildcats (Part XXXI)

XXXI. Lonely day

MASTERLIST

Summary: The most loneliest day of my life (sarcastically)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Zombie apocalypse AU, living dead, zombies, guts, blood, guns, minors with guns, cursing, a friends reference, might miss some important warnings, but you know what this is about

+18, MINORS DNI

Notes: I highly recommend you to hear this song (the title of the chapter) by System of a Down, it's very good. I really like it.

“You know? I used to defend myself pretty decently in the kitchen”, you began softly, “but in the old times I would… you know watch a video on my phone and go, uh I want to eat that, so I would go to the store and get the ingredients to make”, you told them with a soft smile, “but never like this you know, you are like a witch, make magic out of… just things”, you laughed, Carol giggled as she put ingredients in a bowl, many of which came from a can

“It’s not that difficult, come here”, you passed by her side of the kitchen after washing your hands, and she began teaching you little tips. This goes with this, if you want it with sugar you can eat this, this can replace butter, and so on.

Daryl just watched the two of you bond sitting on the kitchen bar with his head on his hands, he seemed hypnotized by the two of you, so he just looked at your interactions with a small smile on his lips

He stayed until she served the three of you food, and you ate happily, it was one of the best things you had eaten, and you let her know that.

The environment near Carol, for the first time since you knew her, wasn’t heavy or tense, for the first time she was being honest with you, her true self, as the three of you ate. You still could feel the darkness looming, of the impending conflict, of the coming war. But tonight, you decided to put all of that aside.

As soon as you were done with dinner, you cleaned up, and, to your surprise, Rosita came to the house looking for you

“Hey, what’s wrong?”, you asked her softly, her eyes were a bit bloodshot, like she had been crying

“Can you cover my guard shift tonight?”, she asked you, and if she was coming to you, you knew she didn't have another choice, so you nodded

“Of course”, you assured her

“Its from eight to 4”, she warned, but you nodded

“It’s everything alright?”, you asked her, she just shook her head.

“Abraham left me”, she whispered, “I thinks there’s someone else”, you opened your mouth

“What? really?”, you asked her. From all the couples of Alexandria, Abraham and Rosita would be the last ones you expected to split up, “I’m so sorry”, you whispered

“I’m just… too distracted you know? I don’t think I would be able to guard properly”

“Say less”, you assured her, she only nodded, and left. You weren’t concerned, she was a woman of a few words that preferred to lick her wounds alone, yet… This proved to you she knew she could count on you, so if she needed you, she was going to come to you.

“I’m on guard duty”, you told Daryl, as he was talking to Carol in whispers, both seemed like they were onto something very interesting, stopped speaking just as you entered back to the house

“Alright”, Daryl said simply, “ya sure?”, you barely nodded, so he didn't fight it. Rick came next to the house and Daryl took the opportunity to leave quietly, thinking you wouldn’t notice, you didn’t know what that was about.

“Tomorrow we are going to the Hilltop”, he said, you frowned

“Why?”, you asked

“To gather support to fight the saviors”, he said, he expected you were going to be against it, like he prepared for you for it. “I know you are not into the idea”

“Of my family starting a war?”, you asked him, “not really”

“We will win this”, he said, convinced

“But at what cost?”, you asked

“We will get Hilltop’s help, Jesus said they were trading with more groups… this could be the start of something, if we all fight the saviors they’ll have no choice but to release them”

“Promise you are only going to talk to the Hilltop”, you begged him, you didn’t even know what Hilltop was about.

“Yes”, he said quickly, “I need you to stay here”. you would ask why, but you guessed is because of your negative for the whole operation in the first place, “Need you to keep the place in one piece, besides, Deanna is not into this either”

“Fine”, you said, “but I want to go eventually”, you said with a soft smile

“Of course you will”, he said, “Carl is staying, the new guys too”

“Fine”, you echoed. He left you. Of all the things you had disagreed on with Rick, this was definitely the worst one, the strongest you felt. Besides you couldn’t get distracted with a war, you needed to deal with the walkers on the quarry and to make Alexandria stronger and more united.

You went directly to the armory, you grabbed an assault rifle with a scope and a silencer, and you went to the gates, you stopped on your tracks when you saw Abraham and Sasha talking and laughing, with a very -strange- closeness between them.

No… What?

You relieved them, and she nodded in your direction with a smile, you nodded back, but Abraham just didn’t even look at you, he was too smitten with Sasha to notice.

You didn’t want to take sides, Abraham was… a great figure in your life and in your group, but Rosita was your friend and… you really needed to get more info on the matter.

You shook your head and you climbed onto the platform near the gates.

Something you had learned in your months alone… At night, you remembered how scared you were, those first nights, in complete darkness, not knowing what loomed there, until, one night, when you found a bottle of moonshine, you decided, very drunk, that you could “connect” with the night, with the darkness, that it was a state of mind, and after many nights -sober-, you determined you were right.

It took a couple of minutes, it required you to close your eyes to tune your ears, then open them to adjust them to the low light.

It’s a state of mind, it’s a state of mind

You chuckled when you remembered a funny chapter of one of your favorite TV shows, anyways… Unagi: A state of total awareness

Anyways, of course you looked outside the walls, but you looked inside as well, from this perspective you could see the main street of Alexandria and many of their houses

From here, a silent post beside the wall, you could see many things.

You saw Rick coming out of Jesse’s house, what was up with that?

You saw the couple that just left take a turn and not go for Abraham’s house, the house he shared with Rosita, you saw them going into the group’s second house. You saw Denise with Tara walking hand in hand… and then you saw Daryl, coming out of Aaron’s garage, his usual workshop, with Carol and they seemed to be talking about something, they both seemed excited, which was very odd. They didn’t even catch you watching, so you just turned back to the complete darkness.

It was such a contrast

Out there? the wild, sick world that wanted to rip you apart and eat you, and in here… behind the safety of walls, stood you, protected from the outside world. Life & Death, Danger & Safety.

Bananas.

Some voices took you out of your determined stance, again, from here, you could see everybody, but nobody could see you. You look back towards the street, but the voices were ricocheting, it finally led you to the source, against the side of Deanna’s house, against the wall. From here, and with the help of the lights from the houses still on, you could see the distinctive figures of Smith, and Spencer, they were talking in angry whispers.

And then they both started walking towards you

You were a curious person, you wanted to know what they were talking about… but.. also if they say something you shouldn’t hear… But you couldn’t hear shit, Ross would be so disappointed.

You just stood there, guarding, they are the ones that should be careful, right? But you really started to wonder what they had to talk about in such…

“Good night darlin”, Smith seemed to interrupt Spencer in the middle of his sentence, clearly meant for him to shut the hell up now that he noticed that you were within ear range

“Good morning gentlemen”, you said with an even voice

“I thought Rosita was going to be up there tonight”, muttered Spencer

“She asked me to cover for her”, you answered firmly

“You heard her, my turn to guard”, Smith muttered, climbing the platform you were on.

“It’s Spencer’s turn”, you clarified

“Well, I’m covering for him”, he said simply, and you didn’t want to be difficult, so you just nodded, trying to ignore his imponent figure by your side. You looked at Spencer walking away from the both of you, he seemed disappointed. “So? how are you feeling tonight darlin?”, he asked, there's something about him that made you terribly nervous

“I’m better”, you said, more firmly, trying to put as much distance between you as you possibly could, in that small platform it was a bit difficult, but you liked the space

“You ran off today”, he said, “I can tell this is hard for you”, he was being condescending, but you really didn’t want to react poorly

“It is”, you whispered, “I don’t want anybody to die”, you whispered, “we have been through so much, we finally have this thing going on for us and… I just want to enjoy it, but we can’t seem to catch a break”, you whispered. “With an army of walkers looming over us, and then the Saviors”

“They seem like nasty sons of bitches”, he said

“I just don’t get it”, you answered, “I’ve come across groups that…”, you interrupted yourself, “nasty ones, truly nasty ones, that I still have nightmares about… I just don’t understand, we should all be fighting the dead together, not amongst ourselves”, yous aid, exasperated, “we have all lived through unimaginable pain, none one of us has gone through this unharmed… we should be focusing all of our efforts into ending the hordes of dead ones, and try to make things right again, instead, we are fighting and killing each other”

“So what do you think we should do with the Saviors?”, he asked

“Cut the best deal possible, now… before there’s dead ones on both sides… before it's too late, maybe we made it out the lot of us”, you said simply, “but Rick is right, they will not treat us fairly, I have seen it, these bastards are bullies, feeding on the terror they can impose on their victims, they will tease, and take, and bully, and press, and threaten, try and make us bend, and bend, and bend… but the thing is… we will break first”, you muttered, “we will snap”

“So that’s it uh?”, he asked, more outloud than expecting an answer

“I get what this Negan guy is trying to accomplish, I think, but that isn’t the way, you can’t put the worst people to deal with the decent people still in this world… that’s how it works, bigger empires had fallen for less”, you whispered, “anyways... The idea of having two people on watch is that they guard different points”, you said giving him a side eye

“Yeah sure but this is way more entertaining”, he said simply. You only chuckled

“Where you out there much?”, you asked him then, curious

“Not really”, he said, “I was never alone, first I was with my wife, then with Laura and her father… then more people joined us… then… Well, some left, some died… other came and went, we were the last ones standing”

“I’m sorry”, you whispered

“How about you?”, he asked

“When this shitshow started I was in Atlanta, met some people there, we put on a team to try and wipe out the dead”, you muttered, “then I left said team after a couple died, I was alone out there, scavenging, never staying in one place… until Carl found me sleeping on a roof”, you whispered, “then I met the group, and we traveled together here, found it on our way to DC”

“Damn, you were out there alone?”, he asked

“Yeah”, you whispered, “For a while”

“How did you manage?”, he asked

“I’m not gonna lie there were some days in which I just… didn’t seem to see where the ship was going, know what I mean? so I just… discovered that primal part of me that many others have too… the survival part”, you rambled, looking into the void of darkness beyond the wall, “I have done things, thought things that a couple of years ago would have frightened me, but now, I just… I internalized it, created this thing, between the survivor and the old me, and she is… kinda unhinged”, you said, chuckling, he chuckled too, “I’m gonna take a lap”, you muttered

The hours passed slowly, by the time it was done, it was 4am and everything was dead, dark, not lights in the houses.

Smith found you in the other post and walked you back home

“So you are saying, you could work with the saviors”, he said

“I don’t think we have a choice, but I will do as Rick and the rest want”, you said

“What about Deanna?”, he asked then, and then you remembered his heated conversation with Spencer

“She is great, and a good leader, but my loyalty goes to Rick first”, you warned, he smiled, and nodded

“Good to know”, he said.

“Hey”, to your surprise, Daryl came out of the house

“You waited for me?”, you asked sweetly, but Daryl was too occupied throwing daggers at Smith to care for your words, as he reached where you were standing on the porch and placed a hand on your hip, possessively., “thank you”

“F’course”, he said, but he was still looking at this guy. “Let’s go”, he said, you waved weirdly at Smith who was just looking at the scene, entertained and walked away once you were back inside the house

“What were you doing with that guy!?”, he asked angrily, as soon as you were alone, making you flinch

“We were on guard duty, the both of us”, you answered back with a frown

“It's like everytime I turn you are with him!”, he said, and you didn’t understand why this guy make Daryl tick so much

“it was an unfortunate set of accidents”, you said calmly, “nothing else”, he promised, caressing his arms

“Don’t like him”, he said

“I know”, you answered back, “I will try to stay away from him, alright?”, you asked, with a smile creeping onto your face, you kinda found this jealous Daryl… interesting.

“What are you smiling for?”, he asked

“Never seen you this jealous before”, you teased, he smirked

“Yer mine, I told ya”

“Yeah, and you are mine”, you said, with your hand on his hips, “in that same square, what were you up to before, in Aaron’s garage?”, you asked him, he chuckled, but he averted your gaze

“Nothin”

“Are you going to try to put another bike together?”

“Yeah”, he said with a soft smile

“Well… if you are a biker you know what that makes me?”, you asked him with a cheeky smile

“Mmm my ol’ lady”, he said, you laughed

“Indeed”, you brought him to you and kissed him softly, “let’s go to bed”

“We aint’ gonna’ be sleepin’ much”, he warned

“Yeah I know”

“Tomorrow I got that trip to the Hilltop”, he said, his blue eyes analyzing your face

“Don’t go”, you begged him, his face quickly twisted into a frown

“What?”, he asked

“Don’t go”, you insisted, “stay home, with me”

“I have ta’ go”, he said, “we are getting people to fight the saviors!”

“We shouldn’t”, you said quickly, “we shouldn’t fight them”

“They kidnapped and tortured you!”, he said angrily

“Yeah, and the claimers threatened to rape and kill us, after beating us up, and the terminus people locked us up and tried to eat us, and the wolves tried to hack us up while I wasn’t here, but here we are!”, you said

“Yeah because they're dead!”, he said quickly, “they are all dead!”

“I’m trying to get what happened to me behind this”, you said, he stopped in his tracks, “I’m not going to let what happened define me!”, you said angrily, “I’m not going to let those bastards ruin my life!”, you said, “but maybe it's too late, if you keep going down this path, it will be ruined!”, you said. He shook his head

“How ya’ think I feel?!”, he asked angrily, making you jump in your place, “M’yer man, of all the men here ya chose me to protect ya, ya gave yourself to me and I failed!”

“I’m with you because I love you for who you are, I did not “gave myself” to you because I wanted you to protect me!”, he stood there, quietly, “you are not at fault for this!”, you said back

“We need to make it right!”, he said back.

“If you want to make it right just… don’t let it happen to anyone else!”, you said, “we can’t get anybody killed, especially not one of us!”, you said quickly, “do not go to war with that jackass, we will lose, we will, many will die, and that will not be in our hands, alright?”, he shook his head

“It’s happenin”, he said, “wer goin”, you just nodded. And he walked away from you

“Where are you going?”, you asked him

“My room”, he said, he wasn’t angry, but he did seem disappointed. You pouted, you literally pouted, he didn’t tell you to go with you. You just shook your head to keep your tears at bay and you went up the stairs, to your room.

One step forwards, and two back…

You slept alone for the first time since you were back, and it felt crappy, and you promised yourself that whatever it was, tomorrow you were gonna fix it before he leaves. You were so tired you fell asleep immediately.

The very next day, you helped them get everything they needed.

You looked like a little kid, whose parents were going out and were going to be left at home with their least favorite aunt or uncle.

“When we come back, we’ll deal with the walkers in the quarry, we will need the training”, Rick promised, just like a parent would give a poor consolation prize to the kid left behind.

You barely nodded.

You watched Daryl move things into the RV, head hanging low, so you approached him with a smile

“Be safe”, you said, he looked at you surprised, as he didn’t expect it, like he expected you to be mad at him

“Yeah”, he assured you, you hugged him tightly, kissing him softly on the lips, everyone was there, you didn’t care, he was smiling when you split

“Come back to me?”, you asked him

“Always”, he answered back

“M’sorry fer last night”, he whispered

“You don’t have to be, people disagree on things, that’s what happens”, you said gently, “I did not like sleeping alone tough”

“Yeah, me neither”, he whispered

“Have you heard the saying, if you can’t fight them join them?”, you asked him, “I will join you in whatever you all want to do if I can’t convince you otherwise”, you whispered, he nodded, “there’s strength in numbers”

“love you”, he whispered

“love you too”, you answered back

“You both are going to give me diabetes because of all that sweetness”, Carol mocked as she walked by, ready to go.

Going out there was a risk, with the saviors going around, so they were taking most of the team, and where heavily armed, just in case

Maggie, Glenn, Beth, Abraham, Sasha, Eugene, Carol, Michonne, Aaron, Daryl, Morgan and Rick.

Leaving you with Rosita, Tyresse, Gabriel, surprisingly Alexander, and of course the kids and the Alexandrians

You wanted to go to the Hilltop, but this wasn’t the day, and you were not gonna fight it, you only regret you didn’t have that jealousy-motivated sex, Daryl was looking all riled up and… you were getting horny again

“I know that look”, whispered Daryl in your ear, you giggled

“You get me all riled up and then you bolt, that is not nice Dixon”, you warned, he chuckled

“I have something nice for ya, fer when I get back”, he whispered, that truly peaked your interest, you looked quickly at both sides, and when you made sure nobody was watching you, you hooked your finger in the hem of his pants

“It better be something I haven’t seen before”, you teased, he got so red he hid under his hair

“It ain’t”, he said, after shooking his hair off of his face and looking at you with a sheepish smile. You smiled widely

“You know how curious I am, and you saying this just before taking off is kinda mean”, you laughed, “but… I’ll make sure to have something nice for you too then”, you said with a smile

“Yeah, and I don’ mind if I had seen it ’fore”, he teased back, hooking his finger to the belt loop of your jeans. You giggled

“Come back soon then”, you said confidently, “my ol’ man”

“We will, my ol’ lady”, he whispered back, leaning in and kissing your lips.

You made sure to hug each and every one of your people that were going on that mission, as you liked to do, and you even waved goodbye when you saw the three cars leaving through the gates.

You helped Rosita close them.

“Wanna tell me what happened?”, you asked her. She looked back at you with a sad smile

“I’m gonna be needing a drink for that”, she said, you nodded, “I know where Spencer keeps his good stuff”

“Good thing he is guard duty tonight”, you said and she smiled

“What are you ladies planning?”, asked Alex, walking towards you

“Is a weird thing you didn’t go”, you said, changing the subject, he shrugged

“I’m conflicted with the chain of command”, he said, “I want to follow Deanna’s lead, and she doesn’t approve of this, and maybe because of that it was Rick to ask me to stay, so we don’t leave the place without that much firepower”, he said simply

“Well, good one, we should get together for a little dinner at night”, you said with a soft smile

“Yes, but… we have a busy day ahead of us”, he said, “training the people for once”

“I’ll go with you”, you answered back, “I need it too”

You weren’t here, when a band of fuckers that called themselves the wolves jumped the walls and started butchering everyone

They didn’t get far, luckily most of the people where here, but there had been several casualties, and now the Alexandrians were more motivated to take their classes in defense, they had seen first hand the cruelty of the new world.

It had been a bloodbath, it got bad

10 people died, Alexandrians, old people, defenseless people, many of Carol’s fake friends

But the wolves had died, all of them, something ensued with Morgan… it got ugly. You didn't like him, you avoided him. He was a bit… unhinged

You were kind of glad you weren’t here for that.

It was a productive day, it felt like it. You participated in the class with Rosita and Alex, you made lunch for the people still here, and then you helped Tobin in the guard posts. He insisted one day you could have a whole walkway between the posts, and more of them too. All around the wall, it was a nice dream

Alex told you he was gonna fill a well to help with a water system for the plants, but he told you and only you he was going to hide the guns away from the community before you could use the tanker, so you went with him, so you could watch nobody was following you.

You hid the guns in a container Alex and Abraham buried with Alexandria’s machinery they were using for the walls, it was a nice place near the construction place.

You took another Pentagon gun, you believed it was the coolest thing ever, to have a once government issued gun? super cool. You were gonna need another silencer, lucky for you, it wasn’t common for them to use them in their guns, so there was always one around.

You also took a couple of walkers on the way

And you came back before the sun sets

You were concerned for your friends. You had this weird feeling in your stomach, that something was terribly wrong, and yet, you couldn’t quite pinpoint it.

What if they got attacked on the road? What if the saviors get to them?

You wanted to believe they would give them a chance, if their plan was mainly to subdue communities to get their shit, you guessed they needed them alive for that… and also… they were badasses… you were gonna pity the saviors they encountered.

When you were back in the streets of Alexandria, you were walking abc home after refilling the well when you encountered Laura

“Hey, wanna grab something to eat at my place?”, you asked her, she smiled at you

“Sure”, she said with a smile

And you gathered with Carl, Alex, Rosita, Gabriel, Tyresse, the guy Gary, even Spencer, Smith, you all joined. You laughed with them, told stories, you talked, and you were happy, they were finally joining in.

You wanted to include them, like Rick and their people included you.

But you’d come to find out… soon… that Daryl’s words, the ones that he told you last in that barn before you got to Alexandria… prove them right.

In the longest debate on who to trust and who don’t, which people are good and which ones aren’t, on those who are deserving to be welcomed in Alexandria and in the inner circle and those who weren’t… this was going to be a hard lesson to learn.

You managed to get rid of all the rest and stayed home with Rosita and Alex

“That pelirrojo hijo de puta left me for someone else”, she said, sipping on the scotch. You looked at her and wondered: how the fuck did Abraham could possibly pull someone better than Rosita?, and Alex seemed ready to poach her too. That sneaky motherfucker

“I’m sorry Rosita”, you whispered, “never saw it coming”, you said

“You know what he said? that he thought I was the last woman on the planet, so that’s why he got with me, and now he realizes that I’m not”

That seemed to be unnecessarily cruel.

“But I don’t want to ruin the night, el puede irse a la mierda, so… how are you and Dixon doing?”, she asked you

“We had a little fight last night… but we made up this morning”, you said simply, “I’m just worried about the savior’s shit,

“Oh yeah, you made up… miss that honeymoon face”, she mocked.

“Well lucky you ladies, i haven’t been with anyone since before the collapse”

“WHAT?!”, you both asked at the same time

“Not many choices”, he said as a justification, “I was in killer mode”

“Ah c’mon, there’s plenty of nice women right here”, you said back

“Este está como un avión de combate”, muttered Rosita. Alex laughed. “You speak spanish?”, she asked, surprised and amused

“Sí señorita”, he said, and now, as they exchanged heated glances, you felt like you were third wheeling but BADLY

“Oh my, should I get out of the line of fire?”, you mocked

“Oh c'mon this is just getting started, we have Smith and Spencer covering our asses tonight”

“Yeah and I slept like 4 hours and I’m on Judith duty tomorrow morning”, you said

“Well, tonight she is with Olivia”, said Rosita.

“Still… I…”, you were destroyed, feeling like you could sleep for days.

“Fine we are going home”, she said, winking, as they both said their goodbyes and left you home. Haunting thought, but if something you knew about relationships in the apocalypse is that each new day you were alive, it was some sort of gift, and there was no time to waste, so… if you wanted something you better get it.

All the couples were getting together rather quickly, again, no time to waste

So you went up to your room, Carl was sleeping, Judith was with Olivia, and the rest of the house was empty.

You fell asleep quickly

But the thing is… when you knew everything, meaning, the safety of those around you, depended on you… your senses heightened, it happened when you had your nieces and nephews with you in the past, and it happened now, it was funny, when you were with Daryl you could sleep through the third world war, but now? you jumped out of your bed when you heard the gates (that were like three blocks away), being opened. And then the sounds of engines.

Were they back at this hour?

You got out of bed and walked to the other side of the house, and looked through the window

You felt your heart in your fucking throat when you saw a strange trucks coming in, and other vehicles behind it.

What the fuck?

You ran back to your room, your jeans on and boots, got your gun and ax with you, and went to get Carl

“Something is going on!”, you alerted him, and he jumped right with you, he looked at his windows and came back to you, he grabbed his gun from under his bed and was ready in a second

“Go to Olivia’s, wake her up, take care of Judith, shoot anybody that crosses the threshold”, you commanded, and you went down the stairs with him.

You needed to get back to Rosita and Alex, you needed to alert.

“WAKEY WAKEY EGGS AND BAKEY”, someone shouted, it sounded like it was out of a speaker. “PEOPLE OF ALEXANDRIA, WOULD YOU BE A DEAR A JOIN US HERE ON THE STREET?”, that voice sounded hauntingly familiar

You got out of the house by the back door and you escorted Carl until he was inside Olivia’s, and then you managed to turn towards the main street

Trucks with their high lights on were illuminating the main street like a macabre show. There were at least a dozen silhouettes standing there in front of the vehicles, you couldn’t tell who they belonged to.

“WE AIN’T GOT ALL NIGHT PEOPLE!”, you could see people exiting their houses, an

The you saw even more people coming towards the houses, a couple to where you were standing, hiding behind the side of a house

“SAVIORS, GET IN THERE, BRING ME EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THIS LAZY PEOPLE!”, fuck, the saviors where inside the walls, they just went in like they belonged here, but… Spencer was on guard! Spencer and Smith and…

“Spencer? why don’t you give a few words to these kind people? tell them we have nothing to fear”, the voice said simply

“If you come out now, nobody is going to get hurt!”, he said shakily, that traitor. You went inside Rosita’s house.

“It’s me!”, you said quickly, at this point, nobody was asleep

“UP HERE!”, she said.

“They’re coming”, you said, climbing the stairs

“Ese hijo de puta!”, she cursed, and when you got to them, in the second floor, you gasped

“Is that… Smith?”, you asked, as the angle finally let you see who was there, front and center

He whistled, a whistled that made your blood ran cold, he was holding a barbed wire bat, and dressed in a leather jacket, but it was him alright

“I HOPE YOU HAVE YOUR PISSING PANTS ON!”, He said loudly, “you are gonna needed them, NEGANS HOME!”

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cripplecharacters · 5 months ago

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In an urban fantasy world with a rather soft magic system, how could a character with a spinal cord injury (still deciding on how high up/how complete the injury is but since he got it in a high speed broomstick crash it's going to be pretty bad) accommodate for their paralysis without erasing or curing it entirely? What are some things that would need to be considered?

Hello. Here are a few ideas for how he could use magic to do what he wants to do;

Consider summoning spells. He can see something out of his reach or even too far out of his way and just summon it to him

He could use levitation like how Charles Xavier did in the X-Men comics, to move his wheelchair over barriers such as stairs when he wanted to. Or even just for the drama of it all.

He can use magic to push something out of the way of his chair or push something between him and another person he doesn't want near him for whatever reason. It can be a form of self-defence to give him time to manoeuvre his chair and leave.

Basically, telekinesis spells would be extremely useful. These can help him open and close doors, adapt to obstacles, and otherwise make it easier for him to do small things.

Accessibility features, too. If he has magical constructs, he might be able to make a ramp. Maybe, if he was particularly motivated, he could uproot part of the sidewalk and turn it into a wheelchair lift. There are probably ways for him to recreate, at least partially, the accessibility features we use to get around in the real world

I'll only stick to the basics there because I don't know what they can do, but these can help you figure out ways to turn magic into his accessibility feature. Consider how tall he is in the wheelchair- he's sitting down, yes?- and look around your house. What would he not be able to reach or use, and what would create an obstacle? Then, how could he use magic to work around that?

As for how they could still do witch stuff, that doesn't need a magic fix. He can reach the cauldron by moving it from a high table to somewhere lower, or use safety belts to secure himself to his broom. The things he needs can definitely be modified so that he can use them without help or, if he needs help with things like transferring, a bit more ease than previously. He would probably also have people who help him, doing stuff like helping him transfer out of his chair, or back onto his chair.

There are some things he definitely shouldn't do, the biggest one being using magic to give himself the ability to control his legs (if you would like an excuse to keep from doing that, moving his legs with magic would take a lot of precision and effort so he might not be capable of it or might not bother with the effort. Just think of the chair as basically his legs. If he moves, he moves with the chair. It would be weird for a character to use telekinesis to halve themselves when they could just do the same thing but remain intact. I would also avoid completely erasing any other conditions his injuries may cause him, such as chronic pain. He can use magic to mitigate them, sure, cast an ibuprofen spell, but those shouldn't be permanent solutions for him because they aren't for actual people.

And finally, if you want to be very safe, you could point out things that he does with magic that have nothing to do with his disability. He was already a witch, which is great because magic was already something he at least had knowledge of. On occasion, maybe just have him use that magic to cut up an apple because he didn't feel like getting a knife. Maybe add in things that just make it clear that his magic isn't inherently connected to his disability, it's just another thing he can do. Have fun with the magic, use it for fun. That's not a requirement, but it's something you can consider if you really want to be cautious.

I don't see anything you need to be concerned about. I think you've got a solid foundation here to make a great character.

Mod Aaron

#mod aaron #mobility disabilities #sci representation #fantasy setting #wheelchairs #disability negating superpowers #acquired disability representation

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misc-obeyme · 7 months ago

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i've been.. sick.. auhrgh. (its a simple cold but my body can'teven),, if you still take tiny drabble requests can I request Barb helping mc when they got a cold.. just tooth rotting fluff.. (if you dont/aren't comfortable thats fine :0b)

Oh noooo I hope you're feeling better!! Being sick is the worst...

And I am still doing drabbles, yes! So I may have written a little more than what I consider drabble length but uh... well I can't help myself when it comes to Barb, so.

Anyway, here's a bunch of fluff!

You were sick. You knew it and even though you were trying to hide it, you were sure everybody else knew it, too. You kept your sneezes as quiet as possible, burying your face in your elbow to muffle their sound. You refused to sniffle unless you absolutely had to. And you went into the bathroom to blow your nose in private. You tried everything you could to suppress the shivers that ran through your aching body, even while you kept wiping the sweat off of your forehead.

All day at RAD, you felt like despite the obvious signs, you were doing a decent job of powering through it. If anyone noticed, they didn't say anything.

Until you got home, that is.

You were surprised to find Barbatos already in your room.

He smiled at you, but there was a sternness behind it, too. "MC. You are in no condition to continue pushing yourself the way you have been. I have changed your bedsheets and washed your favorite pair of pajamas. Now I must insist that you get changed and get into bed so you can rest."

You frowned and folded your arms. "I don't need to get into bed, I'm fine," you said.

Barbatos walked over to you, removed his glove carefully, and put his hand on your forehead. You shivered a little, partly because you knew he would feel your fever and partly because his touch awakened a burst of butterflies in your stomach.

Barbatos let his hand descend to cup your cheek. "You cannot hide the evidence of your illness from me," he said. His voice was soft, the firmness of moments ago melting away into indulgence. "I know you feel that it is minor, but you will recover quicker if you rest now. If you will allow me to, I will take care of you until you are well again."

The tinge of heat that rose up in your cheeks wasn't something you could blame on your fever. You nodded.

When you were in your pajamas and snug beneath the covers, Barbatos brought you a tray of soup and tea. He sat beside your bed while you ate. On your bedside table he had already placed a supply of tissues and water.

"This is delicious," you said when you were halfway through the soup.

"It is a recipe of my own design," Barbatos said. "It incorporates all of the best nutrients a human would need to fight off a cold. The tea is also a special blend of Devildom herbs. They are safe for human consumption, of course, but they contain just enough magical properties to boost your immune system and speed your recovery."

You smiled at him. It was just like him to be so meticulous in what he served you.

"Isn't it a bad idea for you to be this close to me?" you asked. "What if I'm contagious? I don't want you to get sick, too."

"You needn't worry about me, MC," Barbatos said. "I am not capable of contracting an illness of this nature."

You didn't have the clarity of mind to question that statement further.

When you had finished eating, Barbatos cleared away the tray, then positioned himself back in his chair.

"Are you really just going to sit there all night?" you asked.

"I wish to be here should you need me," he said.

You sighed. You were feeling sleepy. The warmth of the food made you heavy and the softness of your mattress caused your body to relax. Your senses were dulled by the fever still running through you. Your eyelids were slowly descending, but you kept them open. You reached out a hand toward Barbatos and murmured his name.

Barbatos knew what you wanted without you needing to say it. You were still sitting up in bed and after removing his shoes, Barbatos sat beside you. Instead of laying back on your pillows, you rested your head on his chest. His arms enclosed you and your breathing synced with his. You fell asleep listening to the beating of his heart.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#I couldn't resist ending on that super fluffy moment lolol #I can't help myself #anyway I do hope you feel better soon Kian #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me barbatos #om barbatos #obey me barbatos x reader #om barbatos x reader #x reader #expressionless-fr #cc mutuals #misc writes

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ourmadmusings · 1 year ago

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‘Come home,’ the Hexie mountain said, to begin another end -

Miguel O’Hara is a proud man - he’s built a reputation from zero, the leader of the spider-people, tasked with the fate of the multiverse. He’s proud of the burden he’s placed on himself, if he didn’t shoulder it, who would? With such great responsibility, it warrants great sacrifice. Sacrifice is something he’s very friendly with, the concept hangs on him like a tattered blanket, the idea that at any moment, it can and will get worse. And worse it does get. He comes back from a long and tedious mission only to find a smiling Jess at his control center, “I think I found someone you’d be keen to meet, O’Hara.” She’s standing proud, back straight as you peek around her back, bent slightly at the waist, you give a small wave. You’re smiling, despite the mask wrapped around your head, “hi, I’m fro-” “What did I say about bringing people back here without explicit permission?” He’s curt. His mask is intimidating, the red stands starkly around the black, but you can tell he's scrutinizing your every breath. “Well, hey, give’em a chance, will’ya? You haven’t seen what-” “No.” He’s turning his back to the two of you as quickly as he’d come in. “No variants that I don’t approve of in this operation. Protocol, you know that.” You feel yourself shrink back behind Jess subconsciously, trying to escape the fire. He’s quick to leave the two of you without another word. Jess offers some supportive words, that he’s not nearly as bull-headed as he’s pretending to be, just give him time to warm up. She sends you back home with a wry smile.

You fill your time at home, in your own world, doing your routine rounds. Keeping things in check when it happens - a soft hum turns into a static buzz, it pulls the hair to stand up on the back of your neck. The littering of pebbles on your building's rooftop start to pull away from the flat top, as if fishing wire had pulled them up in a pathetic magic trick. They come crashing down as a chorus of car alarms ring out around you, your feet carry you to the edge and you stare, wide-eyed, as Electro visualizes out of thin air. You take a second to consider the possibilities when you hear a familiar voice - “I knew we’d see more of you, kid.” It’s Jess, coming from behind you, “lend us a hand, let’s show O’Hara what you’re made of, yeah?” She’s smiling at you, springing into action without another word. You go through the motions with her, and she contains the anomaly, as she put it, so he’s ready for transfer. You’re only catching half of what she’s saying, “come on, Miguel, you’re being obtuse, we could always use an extra hand, we can keep’em on the back burner, let me lend a watch, please?” You hear the device on her wrist sigh, an exasperated fine, and a click. She tosses you a gold watch soon thereafter, “we’ll be in touch, honey.” She’s all smiles, winking at you as she speeds away, a dark cloud opens up, several spider-people emerge, collect the out-of-place Electro, and everything goes silent.

You get called back to the citadel a few weeks later. It’s all hustle and bustle, a perky brunet meets you with a rather standoffish spider, he’s all smiles as he pulls you back through the halls, explaining the in’s-and-out’s. He does a bang-up job explaining the transfer systems, containment, how the watches work to connect the web of spiders to one another to help sort out anomalies in the multiverse, it’s our job, he says with hands on his hips, to make sure none of us have to sacrifice more than necessary. You’re trying to convey your understanding from behind the mask, “you can take it off here, you know?” The tall man says, he’d been close on your heels, never really chiming in on your little tour until now, “we’re all pretty safe here. All things considered,” he mumbles the last part, but you tell them you’d be more comfortable keeping it on for now, “ah, you’re probably smart for that,” Hobie finally says. You’re not sure what he means, but you’re thankful he lets it go after that. The tour ends at the control center, you’d been here before, you tell Pav. He’s a little surprised when you tell him you’d even met O’Hara before. Not formally, of course, but he’d made your acquaintance. Hobie laughs, “yeah, well, he ain’t one for chit-chat.” “Enough,” he finally chimes in, just as curt as you remember, and in habit you shrink into yourself, “don’t you have somewhere else to be?” “Oh, yeah…” Pav trails off as he grabs Hobie’s arm, pulling him away. They’re quick to say their goodbye’s to you and head off into the hallways, leaving you with mister boss-man himself, alone. He’s bigger this time, it feels like. Or maybe you just feel smaller. You’re not quick to say anything this time, without his mask, you can see the scowl on his face, he looks tired. The urge to comment bubbles in your guts, but you busy yourself picking at the hem of your glove - “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself, Spider-woman from Earth twenty-fifty-four?” You’re not sure what he means by the Earth part, but you feel your back go rod-straight, “O-oh yeah, sorry I’m-” “Don’t apologize,” he sounds frustrated, “I already know who you are, I’ve been keeping an eye on you at Jessica’s request.” “The Spider-woman who brought me here the first time, right? The one who gave me the watch?” You’re trying to keep up with everything, but the way he stalks over to you, eyeing you up and down, scrutinizing your every move is unnerving. You’re sure he’s doing it on purpose, trying to intimidate you, and you hate to admit that it’s working. The hair on the back of your neck has been itching since Pav and Hobie said goodbye. “Yeah, that’s right. Can I ask, why are you keeping your mask on in here?” It sounds like a genuine question coming from him, like he’s a little hurt you don’t trust the safety he’s built yet. “Oh, just - Uh, just cause.” You smile under the mask, nervous and apprehensive. You don’t want to admit that you’re intimidated by him, the mask being your only source of mock-confidence in situations like this. “It’s just more comfortable.” “I know that’s a lie, mine gets so muggy I can hardly stand it some days.” He’s turning away from you as he says it, the blase way in which the statement rolls off his tongue surprises you a little. Maybe he’s offering an olive branch, trying to ease you into his presence. “When I first started all this stuff, I used to keep a dryer sheet tucked behind my head.” You’re speaking before you realize, suddenly embarrassed, “it helped a little, but it was itchy…” you hear him chuckle, a low rumble from his place in front of you, he turns with the comment, “really? I’ve never heard of someone doin’ that, it really worked?” “Heh - y-yeah, but it would make my hair really greasy, too. I stopped doing it and just changed the material around my mouth to help instead,” your hand flies to the back of your head, the faint itch from the memory lures your hand to scratch. His eyes crease with a smile, “that’s kind’a funny…” The quick conversation ends there and he gets to business, telling you where he needs you, what’s expected, and how to properly use his little device to catch an anomaly. He’s trusting you to go with a Peter variant, he tells you Peter B. Parker doesn’t venture out on missions very often anymore, though he’s very familiar with the tech, so he’ll help you, but you were in charge of the heavy lifting on this one - a trial run, he’d said. You thank him for the opportunity and tap at your watch until the portal opens, you step through and start your working-interview for the spider-society.

a/n: lets start from the beginning, how did a guy like you end up with O’Hara wrapped around your little finger? Pt. 1 - Pt. 3 - Pt. 4 -

#across the spiderverse #spider-man: across the spider-verse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader

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saintsenara · 13 days ago

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hi! any thoughts on antonin dolohov? back in the day i used to have a huge obsession with him, i remember when i was reading deathly hallows for the first time i was so happy when he got mentioned like 3 times in passing... anyway, it's been a long time but i still have a soft spot for this character and was curious how you imagine his background and motivations and whatnot. does he survive the war? and most importantly, why the hell does he always get petrificus totalused, is it a coincidence, a conspiracy or an ancient curse on his family?

thank you very much for the ask, anon! having an elaborate backstory for random death eaters is my bread and butter [i'd walk through fire for augustus "irrelevant" rookwood] and so - yes - i do indeed have thoughts on antonin dolohov.

most of these are connected to the geopolitics of wizarding russia, which - given both the small magical population, the fact that the need to maintain the statute of secrecy seems to drive wizards to accept fairly authoritarian systems of government, and the fact that elves fill the roles of serfs - almost certainly doesn't have the right social conditions to foment a parallel to the 1917 revolution. i'm obsessed with the idea of russian purebloods living bizarre ancien régime lives as the muggle world around them changes unrecognisably.

i know dolohov doesn't actually have to be a russian national - he could be a british citizen with a russian name - but jkr tends to only use non-commonwealth surnames [under which colonial umbrella come names like "patil" or "chang"] for characters who are non-british nationals, like fleur, krum, or karkaroff. and since i'm obsessed with the fact that voldemort seems to spend so much of his travels in the eastern bloc - and that there are two death eaters with slavic-language names, but no order members or ministry officials - i like to imagine that he is.

when it comes to the man, though, the canon incidental character detail which i love is that dolohov is clearly a great pal. he travels all the way to hogsmeade to wish voldemort luck for his interview and buy him a drink after:

"Then if I were to go to the Hog's Head tonight, I would not find a group of them - Nott, Rosier, Mulciber, Dolohov - awaiting your return? Devoted friends indeed, to travel this far with you on a snowy night, merely to wish you luck as you attempted to secure a teaching post."

[dumbledore's just being a bitch here because he's so gutted he doesn't have a group of lads ready to assemble for pints at any opportunity...]

dolohov is also is gassed for yaxley when he achieves his greatest professional triumph:

"My Lord, I have good news on that score. I have - with difficulty, and after great effort - suceeded in placing an Imperius Curse upon Pius Thicknesse." Many of those sitting around Yaxley looked impressed; his neighbour, Dolohov, a man with a long, twisted face, clapped him on the back.

[voldemort - in contrast - couldn't give less of a fuck because he's too busy flirting with snape. so real of him.]

so i think we have the answer as to why he seems so susceptible to the ol' petrificus totalus: he's easily ambushed because he's so busy being impressed by everything else going on around him.

#asks answered #antonin dolohov nation rise up #sorry you failed to kill hermione #at least you didn't get turned into a baby like your pal

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iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia · 10 months ago

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Vesuvia Weekly: Brainrot's Baking Lesson

~ What happens when six friends ask their local author to show them his bread recipe? What happens when this involves teleporting them to brainrot's IRL apartment kitchen? ~

1.6k words, rated PG

I don't know why I thought it was a good idea to have all of them over at once, instead of inviting them in twos and threes. Nadia and Asra are both sitting on my kitchen stools, being politely conscious of the fact that they are in my personal space. Muriel is surprisingly at ease - he's found my cat. He's very happy to have something small and soft to protect, and she's very happy to have such a tall and attentive shoulder to perch on.

Julian, Lucio, and Portia, on the other hand, are already starting to stress me out.

"Where's the fire?!" Portia's voice echoes from inside my oven, one hand braced dangerously close to the knob that would make the fire she's searching for appear - right under her nose.

"I'll show you how it works after I show you how I make my dough - Julian, your diet is too poor for me to explain what those are."

The doctor glances guiltily over from where he's been examining the selection of instant noodles on top of my fridge. Of course it's the first thing he'd notice, being so damned tall. "Can you blame me? These have pictures of soup on them, but they feel crunchy! Why do they feel crunchy?" He widens his eyes, crunching a packet in one gloved fist for emphasis and I wince.

"I -"

"Why do you have winter in a box? I hate winter!"

"Close the fridge, Lucio."

"Fridge? As in frigid?" Nadia watches her ex-husband's antics with poorly concealed amusement. "How innovative. This eradicates the need for a cellar."

"What kind of magic does it run on?" Asra's question is innocent, but the way they're eyeing the mechanics of my freezer with a curious gleam is anything but.

"Not a type that you're familiar with, so can we please focus on why you're here?" I don't know what it is about my tone that gets my point across, but it works. I stoop to retrieve my bread bowl and set it on my counter. "So, uh -"

Having six pairs of eyes on me at once (seven pairs, if I count the cat) is not a sensation I think I can get used to. I get several encouraging smiles and take a deep breath. These are my friends. They're all sitting with me because they like being here. This is fun. I love them.

"Uh, so, first, I put some hot water in my bowl." I turn on the kitchen tap to 'hot' and immediately take everything back.

"What -"

"What is that?!"

"That does not look natural."

"You can decide the temperature?!"

"Is it safe?"

"How does that work?"

I shut the tap off. For the first time since I ushered them through the door, the apartment is silent. The cat gives me an unimpressed yawn and curls up on Muriel's shoulder for a nap.

"Okay," I run my fingers through my hair, "Okay, let's try this again. This is a water source, in my apartment, that I control the temperature of. The point is not that I have water, the point is that I need hot water to start my dough."

"We have something similar in the Palace," Nadia muses, "though so far its use is limited to drawing the baths and running the fountains. I've been thinking of expanding the network using the aqueducts, but it had not occurred to me to adjust the temperature of the water as it runs through the system."

"U-um, yeah." I nod, hastily measuring the liquid into my bowl. I hope the butterfly effect from this isn't catastrophic. "Anyways, we need oil, honey, and salt next."

I hand different containers to my different guests, giving the salt to Lucio as I expect it to be the least messy ingredient involved. Portia's quick to wave me off when I offer her a measuring cup. "Oh, I'm just watching. I need both hands free to take notes." She's got an old envelope in one hand and a pencil in the other. I nod and move on.

Putting the dough together is fairly straightforward. Besides Julian calling himself a slippery boy, Lucio howling with laughter when I explain the function of yeast, and Nadia sneaking little tastes of honey from the measuring cup, getting to the point of adding flour is fairly event-less. That is, until it's time to add the flour.

I know they can cook, but I'm quickly finding out that Asra might not have any experience baking. Before I can warn him, he's haphazardly tossing a cupful of flour into the mixing bowl, causing the powdery substance to explode all over the counter, the ingredients, and ourselves. There's a moment of stunned silence before Portia reaches over and rumples their curls, raising a second floury cloud from their hair. She giggles. "It just blends right in, doesn't it?"

There's no question in my mind when it comes to who has the best hand and arm strength for kneading. The question is whether he's willing to part with my cat for long enough to do so. Taiga is thoroughly enamored with her preheated napping tree.

"I'd take her, but I'm still writing my notes." Portia looks ready to cry from frustration. Nadia, always quick to smooth things over, reaches up and begins to lift the furball down.

"I'll hold her. She seems very sweet -"

The tiny, annoyed 'mew' the cat makes as she's lifted down is enough to capture the guests' attention. Muriel takes advantage of the distraction to get a headstart on kneading the dough, his massive hands getting the job done in half the time it usually takes me. I should invite him over to help out more often ...

"She SMACKED me!"

"What do you expect if you try to touch a cat right after they hiss at you?"

When I look over again, Taiga is crouching in Nadia's lap with her tail bushed out, letting out low warning yowls in Lucio's direction. Julian is busy trying to get both of the offended parties to calm down, while Asra sneaks her treats with a proud look on their face. I narrow my eyes. When did he pull those out of my cupboard?

"Now what?"

"Hm?"

When I look back at our project, Muriel is standing over the bowl with both hands slathered in dough and the beginnings of an embarrassed pout on his face. "... I can't get it off."

"Oh gosh - let me help with that. Sorry, this recipe is really sticky ..."

Lucio materializes at my other elbow as I work the dough off of Muriel's hands. "I'm tasting this now."

Before I can protest, he's scooped some out with his finger and already has a chunk in his mouth. For half a moment I consider bapping his hand much like my cat did a few minutes ago, but I let it slide. A little raw flour never hurt anyone ... right?

"I hate to be bothersome, but ah ..." Julian is still standing in the middle of the kitchen, swaying slightly on his feet. "I'm afraid I forgot to eat, and I'm beginning to suspect that bread takes longer than a half an hour to produce ..."

"Honestly, Ilya, why would you do that?"

Julian stares down wide-eyed at his sister, comically intimidated by someone half his size. "I was ... busy."

"Busy since when?" Portia's eyes narrow as she presses her brother to confess the full extent of his sins. "Speak."

"Er - yesterday?"

"You bastard!"

"Okay!" I jump in. "It's going to take another hour and a half, so ... how about we eat?"

Lucio and Asra both look mildly disappointed when I cut off their brewing entertainment. Nadia looks generally concerned. "We'd hate to impose on you. I fear we've already caused enough trouble."

"It's not troublesome," I tell her as I reach for the top of my fridge, "instant noodles are easy."

"I though you said my diet was too poor to learn about these." I swear Julian's eyebrows get bushier with excitement as I set my electric kettle to boil.

"I underestimated you."

... he looks way too self-satisfied with that.

By the time the bread has risen, been shaped, risen again, been baked, and cooled enough to slice up and send home, my guests have made themselves perfectly comfortable. Portia has raided my wardrobe and tried on every cosplay I still own. Nadia has gone through all my chopsticks and arranged them by pairs. Muriel has given Taiga so many scritches that I think she's imprinted on him. Julian has smuggled at least seven instant noodle packets into his coat and grilled me about every item in my medicine cabinet. Lucio has tested out every single makeup product leftover from said cosplay days (I don't know how to tell him that it's all expired and should probably be thrown out). Asra has somehow managed to innocently unearth all the embarrassing things I own before taking a catnap in my bed.

"And that's how I make my bread," I tell them. The six are standing at my door again, each holding half a loaf to take home. "Any questions before I take you back?"

"Can I have some jam for this?" Lucio's already tucking into his piece, speaking around a large chunk in his mouth. "It's kinda dry without it."

"I'm sure you'll be able to procure some upon our arrival." Nadia is somehow making a wrapped half-loaf look like a ballgown accessory with how elegantly she's holding it. "I worry that we may have overtaxed our host."

"Not at all," I tell them, and I mean it. Whatever grey hairs I've gotten from this are far outweighed by how happy I was to spend time with them. "Let me know if you ever want more. Maybe next time we could watch a movie."

"What's a moo-fee?"

"Never mind!" I yelp, "Let's head out, I'm sure you're more than ready to be back in your world, let me just make sure the cat doesn't try to follow us -"

The cat is, indeed, trying to follow us. She gives Muriel's shoulder and Asra's treat-filled pocket a forlorn look as I gently scoot her away from the door. Wait -

"Give those back!"

"Never!"

#vesuvia weekly #cooking class #ask arcana brainrot #the arcana #the arcana game #the arcana fanfic #asra the arcana #julian the arcana #nadia the arcana #muriel the arcana #portia the arcana #lucio the arcana #asra alnazar #julian devorak #nadia satrinava #muriel of the kokhuri #portia devorak #lucio morgasson

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