#And I would want to say it at all because it feels crucial with the new problem I am having.

[invested-in-your-future]

The Portrayal of DID in Ave Mujica

(I have to preface this by saying that I am approaching this from a narrative writing standpoint and from my own personal delving into psychology overall. The subject topic is complex and the medical knowledge on it is ever-evolving, so if any of my notions are outdated, I am very, so very sorry.)

(I also understand that the topic of trauma and DID might be a triggering experience to some people, so caution is advised.)

(The discussion will also have open spoilers about the show and as such is tagged with spoiler tags.)

If there's one thing I would never expect when watching a music show, it is for it to turn into a deeply introspective psychological drama about flawed characters grappling with anxiety, mental wellness, toxicity and so on.

I did something like this a few times before and I can't help but want to explore and convey my thoughts on the character writing and handling of dissociative identity disorder within this show.

Now, Ave Mujica's predecessor, MYGO (to which Ave Mujica is a sequel), did play with the portrayal of neurodivergent-coded traits and still remains one of the best attempts at that overall, but a lot of that could be written off as subtextual.

So Ave Mujica portraying DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) in a textual way comes as a surprise.

What's even bigger surprise is the lengths the show goes to make the portrayal feel authentic and how up-to-date the overall knowledge within the writing is.

Now, for starters, some explanation is needed.

What is DID?

Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) is a type of dissociative disorder that usually develops in early childhood due to traumatic experiences—most often emotional or physical abuse or neglect.

The conditions within the environment lead to a child failing to integrate into a unified identity due to compartmentalizing their trauma and various other facotrs. In layman's terms, "distancing themselves" from their own psychological trauma.

The key aspect to understand is dissociation, a concept that is crucial to DID but NOT limited to it. To quickly explain what dissociation is—to handle specific amounts of stress and trauma, the brain copes with the information via "disconnecting" one's sense of self from perception.

Dissociation is actually a very common reaction to trauma and can manifest in different ways without it being DID (hence dissociative disorders being a whole branch of stuff)—like, for example, dissociative amnesia, where a person might forget selective memories associated with a traumatic event.

Grief tends to sometimes lead to dissociation, especially during the early phases, too.

Another common example is depersonalization, which involves "perceiving yourself as an out-of-body observer," which usually involves an altered perception of time too, with time slowing down or speeding up or the concept of time losing meaning.

Both of those can manifest as part of DID, but can also exist separately—for example, derealization and depersonalization can be symptomatic of PTSD.

DID in itself as a concept is about a person at a young age failing to integrate into "one".

The way a child's growth goes is that the mind reintegrates and parses those their experiences and traumas shaping their identity. Experiencing dissociation doesn't instantly mean DID, because dissociation by itself is a common trauma-parsing mechanism, as I said before. A child can experience trauma, neglect, or abuse without it leading to DID.

In the case of DID, the child fails to integrate, the trauma/abuse/neglect instead leading to compartmentalized elements working together—a system.

It's important to note that trauma doesn't create alters, as it's been thought for a while. It's not something fake or "split" or "created"—the system is all the alters as equally "real"; it's just that alters themselves might have different traits of the identity.

While alters are identities, they aren't necessarily separate people—they are a system. Alters might differ from each other, and have separate memories, and skill sets, but every alter is part of that system. Alters don't appear out of thin air as separate entities and it's better to view a system as an entity comprised of equally real alters functioning together, with the "primary" one (the one that's out for the longest periods) being often called "the host".

Thus, alters can be subtle and almost indistinguishable from the host. And even if they have distinct personality traits, most alters would have an awareness to "fit in" by not standing out, instead internalizing them and trying to mimic the host personality (because it's "normal").

There isn't a secret evil spirit or a ninja assassin living in a person—portrayals like that (ex: the movie "Split") are extremely harmful because they perpetuate a toxic stereotype that just isn't true.

There's no "real personality and fake personalities" and so on. The current understanding of DID is a child at a young age, due to internal and external factors, failing to integrate into a singular identity.

Now depending on how young we talking, the person might have had a personality-before or might not have at the point DID develops, but the concept of "original/core" personalities is currently considered antiquated.

And just like alters aren't "created," they can't "die" either.

Now that this covered basic terminology and information, I can actually discuss about the show itself.

First, let's talk about Mutsumi and her character.

Mutsumi

From the very first appearance in MYGO, the characterization conveys the personality of someone who is stoic, internalizes her emotions, and has trouble communicating with others—her first spoken line in the show is ambiguous.

Mutsumi is a stoic, shy student who had been in a band together with her childhood friend, Sakiko, and three other people. The band imploded after her childhood friend suffered from circumstances she felt she couldn't share with others and disbanded it.

The character is often coerced or influenced by others to do things for them and plays more of the role of an observer.

It becomes quickly obvious that Mutsumi herself is extremely uncomfortable with this role—not only blaming herself for the band's breakup but also feeling awful about her friends' mental well-being afterward.

Meanwhile, Mutsumi's childhood is no better—as a child of a star actress and a famous comedian, Mutsumi didn't have what one could call "a normal childhood.". Her parents had surrounded her with wealth but at the same time had adopted a completely hands-off approach, which led to her feeling neglected and alone. For example, she doesn't even call her mother and father dad/mom/father/mother/etc., instead opting to refer to them by their first names like friends would do. The mother is also enamored with being an actress—for example, one of the things she would offer her daughter's friends visiting would be to watch movies she starred in.

The show makes sure the audience gets a sense of the scale of her home life—a luxurious house filled with servants where her mother is a star rather than a parent.

What's more, due to the circumstances of her parents she's constantly compared to her mother and father and their talents, with expectations placed to follow in their footsteps. This ends up with her feeling like she has nothing of her own in her life—whatever praise or expectation is placed upon her ties to The Star Actress and The Comedian instead of who Mutsumi is as a person.

As a result, she values the bonds she has formed with other people a lot. She cares deeply about her childhood friend (whose family circumstances are the actual reason for the band breakup), and she cares about the one other bandmate who had kept in touch with her (the person who is mainly keeping in touch due to selfish goals though).

So when her friend decides to create a new band, Mutsumi feels responsible to support her and help her.

Unfortunately for her, her friend is going through a lot emotionally, and the entirety of the new band consists of a lot of openly toxic individuals.

Thus she is placed into a situation where she has to juggle the neglect and distance she feels at home, the expectations her suffering friend is placing upon her, the expectations the world has for her due to her parents, and the pressure from being a member of an extremely popular band—a tough deal for someone who from the beginning had trouble expressing herself.

But hey, at least since the band has the whole pseudo-visual-kei thing going for it, she will be able to wear a mask.

Which is where her journey through Ave Mujica starts.

Ave Mujica and DID

The first notable thing we see happen is her struggling with an interview, reinforcing the idea that she has trouble expressing herself.

Ironically, this is another case where someone else ends up speaking over her.

The episode ends with the first notable trigger for her emotional state worsening, which is one of the bandmates going off-script and ruining the whole "secret identity" thing by unmasking them live on stage to an audience of hundreds if not thousands.

Considering her character set-up and her issues and insecurities, this is about the second most terrifying thing to Mutsumi in the entire world.

As the bandmates argue and blame each other over what had happened, the show then proceeds to take time to showcase how the pressure and the stress of what had happened affect her psychologically and emotionally.

This is a character who had been defined by the impostor syndrome caused by the neglect of her parents and comparisons society draws to them due to their fame—essentially getting doxxed live to an audience of hundreds if not more.

The show then dedicates its runtime to showcase how this character is slowly ground down by the building up pressure and anxiety, the dam breaking due to the traumatic experience—especially when she flubs an interview, causing even more tension and pressure.

"Don't speak out; play your role; don't make mistakes; be perfect or people will hate you."

The show makes sure to slowly build tension and highlight the growing anxiety and the increasing levels of dissociation the character experiences from the world around her as she goes through interviews and photoshoots—interactions that only worsen her mental state by anxiously comparing her to her parents or reminding her of the mistakes she made, as numbness overtakes her.

The anxiety, the stress, and the tension within all build to the point of insomnia as the character retreats to the one place she was implied to feel safe in throughout the show—the rehearsal room at home where she would spend time alone playing her guitar.

Because, again, as implied, her parents don't exactly pay any attention to her beyond showering her with wealth, and everyone else views her as an extension of her parents. So for her this is one spot that is truly hers.

And even that spot has now been taken because her mother had offered the whole band to use the rehearsal room. It's no longer just her space.

Depression, anxiety, and insomnia are but a few of the things that both influence and happen as a result of dissociative disorders

The show highlights the character's worsening physical state due to her deteriorating emotional state, to the point that the character has trouble walking down the hallway.

More importantly, the people around her—her band, her parents, her friend—they don't realize that. If anything, they put more pressure on her shoulders, they tell her to not stand out, to play the role to perfection, to not ruin the performance or further ruin the band's reputation.

The pressure and tension build to the point where the show depicts the first on-screen dissociative episode for the character.

Experiencing dissociation from gazing into a mirror is actually pretty common, as is the idea of recognizing your reflection as someone else. It's not limited to DID, however. There are common experiences where people suffering from anxiety might feel a sensation that they are looking at a stranger for example. Gender dysphoria might also elicit a feeling that the reflection is "wrong".

The show also showcases another common DID symptom: losing large chunks of time as the character finds themselves jumping from the changing room to the middle of the scene without knowing how she had gotten there.

The scene also involves the character witnessing(and more importantly, recognizing) multiple of herself. While the most common way for the host personality to perceive alters is auditory, visual perception is also possible, as are all other senses.

The series of visual hallucinations ends with a character making a mistake live on stage and experiencing a complete dissociation as she slumps onto a stage prop chair motionless like a doll with strings cut..

Essentially, this is a moment when no one is in control. The host personality has experienced complete dissociation, but neither the host personality nor any alters are "behind the wheel.".

Now, to this point, the idea is still subtextual (barely) in that the story shows but doesn't tell what is happening.

However, what comes after this grows more and more textual.

The dissociative episode and perceiving multiple of "you" leads to the character experiencing even more vivid hallucinations.

This time, however, the character directly acknowledges and converses with an alter within her mind-space.

Having a healthy and proper way of communication between host and alter(s) is actually crucial to functioning as a healthy system and living with DID.

Most of the conversation, however, happens within mind-space, as the character relives her past experiences and memories as if she were watching them as an observer, with the alter narrating her life's story.

The mindscape is often metaphorical so the alters don't necessarily always appear human, but they always would be "humanlike", because the brain perceives the alter as alive. The form alters might take within the mindscape is often dependent on the kind of trauma a person has suffered.

The story as narrated by the alter establishes the reason behind why the character values playing the guitar so much—because it's something truly hers, something she had learned on her own and something that is in no way "because of her parents".

But she feels like she's not good enough.

She can't be expressive, she has trouble communicating her emotions, and thus her playing skills, while technically perfect, lack that self-expression capability.

She can't make the guitar sing.

And thus due to impostor syndrome, she concludes that being "wrong" somehow is why the bands she gets involved with on her friend's behalf keep breaking up—why her best friend keeps suffering.

A person suffering from anxiety, trauma, and neglect, someone who has issues expressing themselves, would often wrestle with issues of self-hate and depression and Mutsumi is no different there.

Experiencing one's own memories from an outside perspective, as if watching a movie or seeing themselves from outside observing something is once again quite common in terms of DID.

As the toxicity within the band keeps growing and her friend keeps suffering, the character's anxiety and stress build further, the auditory and visual hallucinations intensifying.

Just a reminder that while this goes on and Mutsumi slips in and out of her mindscape, her best friend, her parents, and the whole band are completely unaware of any of this. In their minds, the dissociative episode she had experienced was "her acting out" or "acting" or just being "closed-off".

This is the first case where the alter has a direct and open back-and-forth conversation with the Mutsumi, rather than narrating her life like before.

Alters within a system often end up serving specific purposes—because they are more comfortable doing something the host alter isn't. Sometimes it's a single memory the host can't parse or a personality trait.

The alter in question showcases worry for the host's well-being—A Protector.

The alter represents worry over the character's own well-being and where the current stressful self-destructive path may lead.

(Important Note: I do feel the need to say that alters do not neatly fall into classifications and there's not some "class system" for Alters that is always true. There are many complex reasons for how alters within a system can be and there's a lot still unknown, as is true with the overall human mind. Since alters aren't created or "split", an alter merely providing a specific role doesn't mean they exist solely for that role, as it becomes clear with the case within the show too.)

The alter believes that if Mutsumi stays with the band, she will experience the full brunt of the band imploding and the alter also perceives Sakiko as someone who is not healthy for the character—toxic even.

Mutsumi however reaffirms that she wants to support her friend no matter what, to always be by her side.

Eventually, however, as the days go on, and the band keeps arguing, the character ends up tying together what is happening now with a traumatic event in her past—her best friend's previous band imploding in a similar fashion.

The character draws parallels between the two situations—between two traumatic experiences—which further worsens their wellbeing.

As a side note I do love Dutch-angles and how universal they are in conveying things going wrong somehow or being unsettling.

All of this leads to the final straw—a confrontation with her best friend, where the character ends up being accused of "not being good enough" and "not supporting her like a friend should".

Why can't she smile or talk or be more social?

Now I do feel the need to interject and say that while her friend is completely in the wrong here, things aren't that simple. Sakiko also has her own issues, depression, traumatic experiences, and absolutely horrible life—all of which she is unable to properly parse and thus turns towards alienating everyone who cares for her rather than showing how hurt she is.

This is the final straw, the moment where the anxiety and traumatic experiences build up to the point where the host just wants to escape.

A moment where subconsciously she'd want to turn to the someone for help.

This is also the first time this alter is properly given a name (one of Mutsumi's stage persona, Mortis).

The scene is eerie and haunting, but it has to be—sleeping is as close as the situation can get to ego-death.

(Because, like I mentioned before, parts of a system can't "die".)

Once the stage play starts, both the bandmates and the audience are treated to a performance that is unlike the character's usual self.

Mortis fulfills their role, shielding the host from a traumatic experience, taking it up to themselves to do something the host would suffer trying to do. In this case, it's to pretend everything is fine and play the role her best friend expects her in the band—to smile and to talk and to help keep it together.

From this point on, Mortis is in control.

She smiles, is social, and delivers efficient jokes to lighten up the mood—she pays attention to the wellbeing of other bandmates and is extremely expressive.

It needs to be noted that the bandmates and parents STILL have no clue. The other bandmembers barely knew her for a month so they don't really see anything wrong with the change in how the character behaves. If anything they see it as an improvement.

Mortis is doing everything they can to do what the host was too anxious to—to be a perfect actress, supportive and caring for the band, and nurturing an environment where the band stays together.

There are a few problems, however.

For starters, Mortis doesn't know how to play guitar, at all.

It's a skill and talent the host alter developed and as far as systems go not everyone would have access to the same memories, experiences, or skills and it's possible for alters to develop different skills than the host too.

And second of all, as the one who wants to protect Mutsumi, Mortis feels disdain towards the main source of Mutsumi's anxiety and depression—her childhood friend, Sakiko.

In Mortis's eyes, the dissociative episode the host suffered and the extreme amounts of anxiety and stress are all because of Sakiko.

This comes to a head in a scene where Sakiko, after spending a whole episode feeling uneasy because of how different Mutsumi is now, decides to have a one-on-one talk with her about what's going on.

It's in this scene that the show textually acknowledges DID.

What finally tips her off is that Mortis refers to her differently than Mutsumi would.

This scene also provides a direct affirmation of the fact that parts of a system don't "die"—they might however go dormant and "fall asleep".

As a side note, the scene does contain ominous framing, but it's mainly due to it mainly being from Sakiko's POV. The writing, however, makes it extremely clear Mortis isn't a villain as much as someone protective of Mutsumi and spiteful towards Sakiko due to her neglect of her best friend—and that Mortis isn't entirely wrong to blame Sakiko for this.

This is kind of surprising because that's pretty "new" information as far as the medical topic of DID goes. People used to think alters could die due to a faulty understanding of the idea stemming from the older now debunked theories as I mentioned before.

The reality, however, is, that alters aren't really something "different" nor "created/split"—a system has the same brain, and the same biological functions, which means the brain can't perceive itself as "dead".

DID develops at a young age due to neglect trauma or abuse. It doesn't suddenly happen because of some extremely tragic event as fiction often depicts it (the tragic events however can cause the host to dissociate and push specific trauma onto an existing alter).

The show, once again, acknowledges that too!

The scene basically spells out that Mutsumi's DID developed at a young age as a result of parental neglect and anxiety. Note that the show doesn't imply Mortis "having been created" ever.

Mortis basically spells out what Mutsumi wouldn't have been able to say—she speaks of the stress the band had caused Mutsumi and how Sakiko's neglect and toxicity ended up causing her to retreat into sleep.

(Once again have to add this: Alters can differ in terms of their thoughts, species, speech patterns, gender orientation, etc. Alters even can have different heart rates, eyesight, and how they respond to allergies.)

Mortis is resolute to protect Mutsumi and her band, but she's also a child—one that can be very blunt in the ways Mutsumi isn't and also naive in the way Mutsumi wouldn't be.

She can't help but detest Sakiko for her toxicity and the trauma it has caused.

She bluntly states that Mutsumi ceding control to Mortis is Sakiko's fault and if Sakiko keeps acting this way instead of actually parsing her problems, Mutsumi might never return.

Mortis isn't merely "a role protecting someone". She is childish and she is, in a way spiteful and she has an opinion about Sakiko that Mutsumi might not agree with.

There's a struggle there because the dissociation between the two alters is too big—there's a lack of communication as once Mutsumi gets to interact with Mortis again, the two are talking past each other.

Mortis is way too focused on what Sakiko had caused and on how it had hurt Mutsumi, while Mutsumi is still ever so focused on how much Sakiko herself is hurting and ignoring her own problems.

It's somewhat common for alters to communicate their memories or experiences with each other via mindspace creating a filing system of sorts as some described it as a computer with a search bar or a cabinet.

The show makes sure to highlight the dissociation currently between Mutsumi and Mortis and the communication between the alters having been strained due to conflicting motives and viewpoints on their mental wellness and how much a person Mutsumi cares about affected it.

The show also doesn't shy away from the problematic treatment of mental wellness in the world and how often it gets sensationalized.

The first major example is the public's reaction to Mutsumi dissociating on the stage—the band is flooded with demands to REPEAT that "performance". In fact multiple show appearances and stuff set that as a condition for the band appearing at all. To the public there's not even an ounce of worry that this was something real—to it couldn't have been anything but acting. Which is actually a common toxic reaction towards systems in the real world. Even within the Ave Mujica tags there were people screaming how "Mutsumi must be just pretending to have it".

Even one of Mutsumi's teammates mistakes her dissociation and Mortis for masterclass acting talent and is STILL haunted and feeling inferior by it even after she KNOWS what actually happened.

The characters also use the outdated term "split personality" when conversing about Mutsumi and Mortis and a majority of the cast doesn't "get" what this is and are way out of their depths—Sakiko blames herself for "having broken" Mutsumi, Umiri and Uika just completely don't care, Nyamu feels insecure and the MYGO cast are also just as out of their depths even though they display far more empathy.

It's a sheer contrast to one character who has no direct connection to Mutsumi but is known for her blunt nature and ends up recognizing both Mutsumi and Mortis as individuals (even asking for the name of each alter when they exchange introductions) and befriending Mortis.

Likewise, when Mutsumi and Mortis end up arguing over their motives and goals and falling down the stairs, the first reactions the onlookers have is to...snap photos and film the situation because it's a famous person and maybe this is some performance too! A completely cold and cruel audience of observes that keeps snapping photos even as another characters desperately begs them not to film this.

And of course, it gets shared and goes viral on social media.

Overall so far the representation of DID and overall mental-wellness issues in Ave Mujica (and MYGO) have been the series highlight and I certainly hope the show continues to treat the subject matter with care and research needed as it further delves into the character.

Another highlight is the variety of issues and insecurities the other main characters are facing—from Sakiko's complex traumatic experiences and implied self-harm tendencies, to Uika's obsession, to Nyamu's insecurities to Umiri's complete emotional disconnect and compartmentalizing to the point others see her as lacking empathy (even though that last scene implies it's not completely true, so we don't really know what's exactly going on there).

Ave Mujica, if it lands, is shaping up to be one of the best shows in a while when it comes to character introspection and psychological themes.

[prettyboykatsuki]

oh boy lmfao.

hi. this is the extended authors note for my love, my alibi. there is nothing important to the fic itself so if you're comfortable with the presented dead dove content- you are more then welcome to skip this entirely. i hope you enjoy/enjoyed reading!

cw very long discussion about fictional incest. just me yapping.

this fic is the first long-form incest fic im publishing on ao3 in general but also the first dc fic i am posting for love and deepspace which has a very wide audience. i've been warned a few times about antis and whatnot but i don't make this post trying to specifically address them but to kind of briefly weigh in on my choice to write caleb and mcs relationship this way

despite the english localization and how it attempts to scrub out the incestual element of caleb and mcs relationship - i don't think you can remove this aspect without butchering calebs character almost entirely.

i would go as far as saying removing the familial aspect of calebs feelings and reducing him to close childhood friend makes him as significantly less moving and less interesting.

i also think a lot of the story's thematic choices and motifs (forbidden fruit for example) do not make sense unless you consider the relationship between mc and caleb as siblings first and foremost.

the level of intensity and emotional angst just really explicitly does not work the same. there's no reason for mc to react to romantic advances with such guilt and denial towards a character she explicitly considers a friend.

there is also no reason for caleb to feel explicitly responsible for behavior in the way he is in canon.

caleb and mc being siblings is a crucial aspect of their relationship - and it is also crucial to note they experience a conflicting sense of mutual attraction in the years they grow up that way. evidenced in multiple of the cards.

also in literally every other version of the game (cn, jpn, kr) it is affirmed explicitly that caleb views himself as mcs brother SDKFJSD.

for all of these reasons i wanted to explore the nature of their relationship and play with some of the discomfort because i think it makes for an interesting story. i dont think caleb sees being mcs brother as contradictory. his denial of their relationship feels intentionally hurtful to mc in order to make her address the uncomfortable underlying attraction imo. caleb wanting to be everything to mc being literal in nature. this is why he can also act very parental towards her despite the small age gap.

i can understand why incest in this regard might be uncomfortable for some of you to engage with, and i respect your feelings and your choice but i do encourage you to look beyond the moral taboo and try to examine the themes that come with incest like forbidden romance and co-dependence and think critically about how it impacts the story

and if you are still uncomfortable comfortable engaging with it, feel free to click off !! genuinely i get it, its not for everyone. but please do so without judgement of those who are comfortable. no real people are exploited in writing this. it is all make believe and for fun

all that being said, i hope you like this fic that made me crazy.

love,

fang.

[thedrotter]

Mili from gote to handa!!! these were originally simple doodles but i had to polish it because she's my favorite from the game

[crimeronan]

still thinking about hunter and raine as the good cop and comrade cop because it's just . it's so good. it's so good. obviously this is early in the canon before hunter knows raine is a rebel or has defected himself so it's like. hunter, who likes raine So So So Fucking Much, because raine is The Only Decent Person In The Castle, just increasingly desperately being like . [rubbing temples] [exhaling] [dragging raine to the side] [hissing] whispers. whispers i'm trying So Hard to get this guy to break. i am at a point where i almost literally would rather die than get you in trouble so could you PLEASE..... bpllease..... just...... for ONCE.......

[blackwaxidol]

I do not know what my problem is.

[beloveds-embrace]

Noona you have given me brain worms.

I wonder what the guys would do if they found the scentless reader had entered an enemy house and killed them all before the guys could get close because of their lack of scent? Does John hate using them for intrusions but does it anyways because it's the best chance of everyone coming home alive? Do the guys have a ritual of coming home off missions and rescenting their reader? I really need to stop thinking about this one and get back to homework.

(As an aside I am in LOVE with your writing and I read your works when I get stuck because you craft words so well.)

I claim no guilt over giving anyone brain worms, and omfg thank you!! That’s extremely high praise to me bc i absolutelyyy love your works <33 💕💕 :3 for your first question, they wouldn’t exactly be surprised. It’s why you were brought on the Task Force, it’s what makes you so useful. But once they reached the state of wanting you, and then slowly pulling you in?

They hated it. Hated it every damn time Price gave the order, even if they knew it was the right call.

No scent. No designation. No trace of you ever being there.

You were a ghost, in ways that even Simon couldn’t match. Silent, invisible to the senses, slipping through enemy lines like smoke and leaving nothing but bodies in your wake.

It was useful. Crucial, even. Quite literally the reason why the military had so much use of you. The best chance of keeping everyone alive. Price knew it, hated it, and did it anyway. Every time.

But it never stopped the way his chest felt tight when he had to send you ahead- alone. Never stopped the sharp glances Ghost shot him before you slipped away into the shadows, or the way Soap and Gaz went so still as they listened for any sign of trouble over the comms.

And it definitely never stopped what came after.

The moment you were back- safe and whole but covered in blood- Price’s hand was on the back of your neck, thumb digging gently into your faulty scent gland, his grip firm and grounding. Ghost was right behind him, his presence dark and heavy, crowding close enough to make your breath hitch. Neither of them spoke. They didn’t have to.

Soap and Gaz weren’t far behind. Soap’s hands were already reaching for your gear, tugging straps and buckles loose, brushing against your skin as if to remind himself you were there. Gaz hovered close enough that you could feel the heat of him, his fingers brushing yours when he helped you unclip your holster.

They didn’t leave your side. Not through debriefing, not through cleaning up, not even when you asked them to.

And later- once the adrenaline wore off and exhaustion set in- they were all but dragging you into the nest.

It was deliberate, the way they settled you down in the middle of it, surrounded by blankets that smelled like them, by them. Soap’s hands lingered on your hips, steady and warm, and Gaz was already curling up beside you, pressing into your side like he was trying to leave traces of his scent on your skin.

Price sat at your back, his chest pressed to your spine, one arm looped around your waist while the other cradled your head, tucking it under his chin. He didn’t say anything- just held you there, anchoring you in place as Ghost knelt down in front of you, tugging off your boots and brushing his gloved fingers along your calves and ankles as he went.

And then they started.

Ghost first, leaning in close to press his masked face against your neck. The slow, deliberate drag of fabric and leather along your skin made you shiver, and he didn’t stop until Price hummed low in approval. Soap followed, brushing his cheek against your shoulder before dipping low to nuzzle at your thigh, his hands curling loosely around your knee.

Gaz was next, pressing his forehead against yours and lingering there long enough that you could feel his breath warm against your cheek.

Price was last. His beard scratched lightly against your skin as he dragged his mouth along your throat and jaw, rumbling quietly when you tilted your head for him without thinking.

It took hours. Longer than necessary, longer than it had to, but they didn’t stop until you were covered in them- soaked in their scents and surrounded on all sides.

Didn’t stop until Ghost finally leaned back, pulling his mask away just long enough to press his lips against your temple, and murmured, “There. No one’s getting near you now.”

(If it was before, when you still didn’t realize what they were doing- everything was sharper. Tighter.

They didn’t say anything, but you felt it. Felt the weight of their eyes on you when Price ordered you to take point. Felt the way Soap’s jaw clenched when you slipped away, silent and invisible, like you always did.

You noticed how Gaz lingered by the comms, fingers tapping nervously against the console even though he wasn’t the type to fidget. How Ghost’s hands hovered near his weapons, muscles coiled and ready to move like he was waiting for something to go wrong.

And then there was Price.

Price, who stood stiff and silent until you reappeared, covered in someone else’s blood and staring at him like you knew he hated it but couldn’t bring himself to say so. Price, who didn’t let go of your shoulder the entire debrief, whose thumb rubbed small, grounding circles into your skin every time someone so much as looked at you the wrong way, and you told yourself it was just some weird Alpha instinct that you wouldn’t realize.

They didn’t say anything, not really. Just kept touching- light brushes of Soap’s arm against yours, Gaz’s hand lingering a little too long when he passed you gear, Ghost standing so close you could feel the heat of him against your back.

You thought it was just nerves. Stress. You didn’t think it was something else- not until later.

Not until you were sitting in the nest, exhausted.

Not until you caught Ghost staring at you like he wanted to devour you, or Price leaning in so close that you felt his breath on your skin when he murmured, “Stay still, love.”

Not until Soap tucked himself against your side with a soft, pleased sound, and Gaz let out a low purr, his hands running up and down your arms like he was soothing something neither of you could name.

You didn’t understand it- not then- but they did. The confusion on your face was almost cute if not just a touch infuriating.)

[orchidbreezefc]

ok. years have passed and we've had some distance, so i'm finally gonna take the leap of faith that tma fandom is finally ready to hear me on this. let's talk about tannins.

161 was the first tma episode i heard on early release, and i felt the bit where martin declines wine and cites tannins was pretty obvious in its implications. cool, got it, say no more.

imagine my surprise when i was one of maybe three people i saw read between the lines there, in a fandom famous for red stringing--a fandom that immediately caught the much less obvious thread of ignition sources in the same episode. i'll spell it out: alcohol is an issue for martin.

maybe it just felt obvious because addiction is a pet issue for me--as it is for jonny, who has said everything he writes is filtered through a lens of addiction. i don't know if that's due to his own experience or a loved one's, and i won't speculate; i also don't know if martin personally struggled with drinking or just avoids it for fear he would, but alcohol would fit what we know of his family. his dad walking out and his mum spiralling into bitter wallowing and verbal abuse? i'd bet one or both of them drank, yeah.

on a basic level martin tries to decline alcohol, and that alone should have raised eyebrows given what we know of martin and, again, a fandom that dissects everything. we already knew martin "K" blackwood lied about his personal life and his family in particular, especially pre-canon, which is when this flashback took place. i was shocked that everyone took his flimsy excuse at face value with no further questions.

and the excuse is flimsy. martin turns down wine by--nervously--exclaiming tannins are "a proven headache trigger!" which sounds like trivia from a magazine cover and not the words of someone who actually has headaches--and it hasn't come up before or since. jon, confused, points out that tea, a drink martin consumes to a degree that is memetic both in- and out-of-universe, also contains tannins, and martin squawks a panicked, "what?!"

if tannins are enough of a concern for martin that he knew they're in wine and so avoids it, why didn't he know they're in his drink of choice? why does he still drink tea at the time of canon, and why doesn't he struggle with constant headaches from consuming 'a proven headache trigger' day in and day out? why, indeed, would someone avoid wine and not tea?

when sasha insists martin drink he caves and agrees to 'just a drop'. i imagine him pouring it in a plant, which admittedly he could have done if tannins really were the issue. i will say that i, for one, would be less likely to falsely agree to something that makes me physically ill than to a private issue that i'd rather not be pressed on any further. this scene also establishes martin's birthday was an ice cream party instead of the more traditional visit to a pub.

also, this scene was in the first episode of the final season, as one of three flashbacks that could have been to any pre-canon event in the archives. prime narrative real estate. not really time one would waste on establishing the important character context that martin has... headaches. which never comes up before or after, even regarding the week he spent in spiral town. but you know what is pretty crucial character background...?

it felt like a no-brainer, and yet all i saw was h/c fluff about jon attending to martin's headaches. and i hate feeling bitter about disability representation. i want folks with chronic headaches to feel seen and have fluffy escapist fantasies. i don't want to be mad about people portraying a character with a disability. but, guys? you got the wrong disability. jonny sent a clear message, and it went over fandom's head.

[fairestwriting]

Azul, Ruggie, and Lilia seeing their crush sleeping with a plush that looks like them! (An octopus plush, hyena doll, and a bat!)

𐙚 Azul Ashengrotto

When he tries to think of a sea creature that could make for a good design for a plush toy, octopi definitely aren’t the first to come to mind. It’s not like he’s never seen an octopus plush before. He just can’t bring himself to think they look cute and cuddly enough, they read more like a marketing mistake to him— or that’s what he would want others to believe, at least.

He actually has a bit of a soft spot for plush toys. They’re not much of a thing back home, where fabric usage is restricted only to things that can survive the harshness of the salt water. The plushies he’s seen for sale there aren’t as cute looking as the ones he’s seen on land, he’s firmly decided, then kept it to himself because the thought of having opinions on “children’s toys” at his age feels too embarrassing.

Azul maybe had a passing thought about you owning an octopus plush before, but dismissed it as him being kind of desperate. After all, even landmade octopus plushes aren’t really that cute, are they… you’d probably prefer something that’s easier to hold. And that’s if you even like that kind of stuff at all— He honestly thinks of you so highly sometimes, the idea of you owning plush toys feels unrealistic. Even if that thought itself doesn’t make that much sense.

You maybe had invited him over to study, the day he walks in and sees you with that plush, and it almost made him trip on nothing when he did. ”Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d be asleep! Would you prefer I come back some other time?” He says in a flustered rush, it’s really a trial for him to get his thoughts back together if you, on top of everything else, ask him to stay. Inside his mind, the scene is crystallized like a crucial memory, and he feels flustered all over again when he comes back to it. If you two did study that day, he didn’t memorize a single word.

𐙚 Ruggie Bucchi

He’s seen little plush hyenas on storefronts back home, there’s been periods where they were trendy in his neighborhood too. Maybe he’s even mended one of the toys before, or purchased one or two to give out as a gift. They’re all far from being high quality, probably even a little wonky looking, he never thought too much about them.

If you ever expressed an interest in plushies, he’s definitely made you a little something as a gift. Maybe a plush keychain, since sewing a doll by hand would require an amount of time he sadly doesn’t have. It may have been a hyena or not, when doing this his first thought is to go for whatever your favorite animal is, and hyenas aren’t exactly the most popular, right? The association of the gift with himself doesn’t really come to mind at first.

Then, one day, he comes over to your dorm room to check up on you — it’s just a thing he likes doing from time to time — and he sees you asleep with the plushie in your arms. Ruggie’s heart melts, it immediately reminds him of home, he can’t resist taking a sneaky picture to keep to himself. “Shishi, I didn’t know you missed me so much while I was busy”, he lovingly teases you when you wake up. He’ll be curious about where you got it, wanting to know more about the “little guy”, as he calls it.

The whole thing makes him feel really proud of himself. He takes a little break to hang out with you and just relax for a moment, so you ”don’t have to feel lonely” when he leaves for his Lounge shift. One day, you come back to your bedroom to find out that a yellow bandana was tied around your doll’s neck, a tiny, embroidered thing made to look like the one Ruggie wears with his dorm uniform.

𐙚 Lilia Vanrouge

There’s no surprises here, because he 100% bought the plushie and gifted it to you himself. You couldn’t possibly beat him to it when he’s so often thinking about how endearing you are doing this or that. He walked by the store, the idea popped up in his mind, and so he executed his plan. It was only a matter of time until he would get to see you being cute with it.

Lilia’s very straightforward about it. “I wanted to make sure you wouldn’t be too sad whenever I’m away,” He tells you when he hands over the gift, smiling wide. The plushie has an oddly really specific look, being bigger than what you’d imagine for a bat, with bead eyes that were almost the exact same color as his own. He may or may not have had it slightly altered. He was really a man on a mission with this one.

He already seems to linger around your dorm way too often, straight up inviting himself is a line he won’t cross, but he sure manages to find a lot of excuses to be around. Since giving you the plushie, it gets even more frequent. You hear lots of cheeky excuses, things about how he decided to try out Malleus’ exploration hobby, or supposed dorm vice leader duties that definitely don't exist. And he knows you don’t believe any of it too, he’s just being coy. It’s basically just one of the many ways he flirts with you.

When he shows up, Lilia tiptoes the line between your nightly free time and the moment you go to bed. He knows he could probably just watch you from outside the window, but where’s the fun in that? He wants to actually be allowed to get as close as he can, instead of just staring at a distant image through a glass pan. The night he finally sees it, he can’t stop smiling to himself. How silly, for an old man like him to get so giddy over something so small, he thinks while he giggles. You wake up to a single, slightly cryptic feeling text saying he’s happy you enjoyed his gift so much.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

[goldfades]

NOT SCARED──RAFE CAMERON

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for this request

─ summary | during an argument, you accidentally flinch.

─ pairing | rafe cameron x fem!reader

─ warnings | kinda angsty, but it softens into something fluffy and sweet. could be interpreted as ptsd?, rafe being angry, nothing else really!

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

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The room feels smaller than usual. The air, heavy with tension, presses in from all sides, thick and humid, like the heat outside the windows you forgot to crack open.

Rafe stands across from you, his face flushed—partly from the Carolina sun, partly from the argument that spiraled faster than either of you meant for it to. His eyes, usually such a cool shade of blue, burn as they lock onto yours. He was complaining about something Sarah had said offhandedly, and you couldn't bring yourself to answer. You weren't even sure what he was saying anymore. Something about how she was an ungrateful little brat?

“Are you even listening to me?” His voice cuts through the stillness, sharp and rough.

Your chest tightens, the weight of it pressing harder with each word. You stand there, rooted in place, trying to keep your composure. You want to yell back—God, you want to—but your words are caught somewhere deep in your throat, tangled in the knot of emotions you’ve been trying to hold back for what feels like hours.

And then it happens.

Rafe’s hand jerks up, a frustrated gesture, fingers raking through his hair. But you don’t see it as that—not right away. The movement is quick, too quick, and instinct takes over before you can think. Your body reacts.

You flinch.

It’s small, a barely-there movement, but in that moment, it feels seismic. Time freezes. You see the flicker of confusion cross his face, the instant shift from anger to something else—something unreadable, something that twists your stomach in knots.

The silence that follows is deafening.

The air between you both seems to collapse in on itself, heavy and suffocating, as if the room is holding its breath, waiting for what comes next. Rafe’s eyes, sharp and cutting just seconds ago, soften in a way that makes your heart stutter. You see it—the realization. The moment it hits him.

His arm lowers slowly, his fingers uncurling from where they had been tangled in his hair. There’s a flicker of guilt, maybe even hurt, in his gaze now, but he doesn’t move toward you. Not yet. He stands frozen in place, as if he’s afraid to take another step, afraid that the space between you will shatter entirely if he does.

“What the hell was that?” His voice is softer now, but there’s something raw underneath it, something that makes your chest tighten even more.

You bite down on your lip, trying to will the tremble in your hands to stop. You don’t answer right away because, honestly, you’re not sure what to say. You didn’t mean to flinch. You know Rafe would never hurt you, not like that. But it happened, and now the weight of it hangs in the air like a storm cloud ready to burst.

"I—" Your voice cracks, barely a whisper. You want to explain it away, brush it off like it’s nothing, but the words feel too fragile to stand on.

Rafe shifts his weight, his eyes flicking to the floor before they settle back on you. The tension in his shoulders hasn’t quite eased, but there’s something else there now. Vulnerability, maybe. Uncertainty.

“I wasn’t gonna—” he stops, as if the words are too heavy to finish. “You know that, right?”

You nod quickly, too quickly, because you do know. But it doesn’t change what just happened. It doesn’t erase the way your body betrayed you, reacting out of fear instead of logic, making this moment real in a way that feels unbearable.

“I didn’t mean to...” you manage, your voice small, cracking under the weight of the silence.

Your words feel hollow, barely filling the thick air between you. Rafe’s gaze lingers on you, searching for something—reassurance, maybe? Forgiveness? You’re not sure. But there’s a look in his eyes that you don’t quite recognize. Vulnerability has never been his strong suit, and seeing it now, raw and exposed, makes your stomach churn.

The seconds stretch out painfully long, the silence between you both growing louder, pressing in like a suffocating blanket. Every breath feels labored, as though the very walls of the room are closing in, shrinking with the weight of what just happened. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, fast and uneven, like it’s trying to outrun the awkwardness that’s settled between you.

“I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to scare you,” Rafe says, his voice soft but frayed at the edges. It’s like he’s unraveling right in front of you, piece by piece, and all you can do is stand there, clutching onto whatever is left of your composure.

You know he means it. You know. He would never intentionally hurt you, not physically, not in that way. But the tension from the argument, the way his hand moved so quickly, too quickly—it just triggered something deep inside you, something instinctual and uncontrollable. And now, that flinch, that split-second of fear, hangs between you like a permanent scar neither of you know how to heal.

“I didn’t mean it,” you repeat, almost like a mantra, willing the words to erase the moment. But even as you say it, your hands are still trembling, and your heart hasn’t quite settled in your chest. You feel the need to explain, to fix the mess that’s rapidly spiraling out of control. “It wasn’t you, Rafe. It’s just—”

You stop, your throat tightening as you struggle to find the right words. How do you explain something like that? How do you tell him that sometimes your body reacts before your mind can catch up, that sometimes fear sneaks in where it doesn’t belong, uninvited and unrelenting?

Rafe’s brow furrows, and he takes a small, cautious step toward you, as if testing the waters. His movements are slow, deliberate, like he’s afraid of making it worse, of pushing you further away.

“Hey…” he starts, voice softer now, almost tentative. His eyes, still locked on yours, carry a weight that makes your chest tighten. He takes another step, closer this time, closing some of the distance, but there’s still a carefulness to him, like he’s afraid to breach the invisible barrier that’s suddenly formed between you. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain.”

But you want to. You need to. You need him to understand that it wasn’t his fault, that it was just the heat of the moment, the adrenaline from the argument twisting your reactions into something they weren’t supposed to be. You shake your head, trying to string together something coherent, something that will ease the hurt that’s settled in his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to flinch,” you whisper, voice cracking under the strain of your emotions. “I just… it was reflex, okay? It wasn’t you. You didn’t do anything.”

Rafe stops just a foot away from you now, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him but not close enough to touch. His hand twitches at his side, like he’s debating whether or not to reach for you. His jaw is clenched, his lips pressed into a tight line, and for a moment, he just stands there, studying you, his blue eyes clouded with a mixture of confusion, guilt, and something you can’t quite place.

“You sure about that?” His voice is barely above a whisper now, rough and strained, as if he’s holding himself together by a thread. “Because it didn’t look like nothing.”

The hurt in his tone makes your heart ache. You want to reach out, to touch him, to tell him that it really is nothing, that you’re fine, that he’s fine. But there’s a knot in your chest that refuses to loosen, tightening with every passing second.

“I’m sure,” you say, and though you try to make your voice sound steady, it wavers, betraying you. “Rafe, I know you. I know you’d never—”

“I wouldn’t,” he interrupts, his voice thick with emotion. He finally reaches out, his hand hovering in the air for a moment before it finds your arm, gently, so gently, as if he’s afraid you’ll break under his touch. His fingers wrap around your wrist, warm and steady, grounding you in the moment. “I’d never… you know that, right?”

The softness in his touch contrasts so sharply with the tension from earlier that it nearly breaks you. His thumb rubs slow, gentle circles against your skin, and for a moment, you allow yourself to close your eyes and breathe, just breathe, focusing on the steady rhythm of his hand, the warmth seeping into you.

“I know,” you whisper, opening your eyes to meet his. “I know, Rafe. It was just—”

“Instinct?” he finishes for you, his voice quiet but understanding, like he’s trying to piece together the puzzle himself. He lets out a small, shaky breath, and you can see the frustration simmering beneath the surface, not at you, but at himself. “I just hate that I made you feel like that. I hate that you even thought for a second…” He trails off, jaw tightening again, as if the words themselves are too painful to finish.

You can feel the weight of his guilt, the way it clings to him like a shadow, and you hate it. You hate that this argument—something so stupid and trivial—escalated into something that neither of you meant for it to. You hate that your body betrayed you like that, that it made Rafe question himself, question the way he loves you, the way he would never hurt you.

“I’m not scared of you,” you say, firmer this time, willing him to believe you, to really believe you. “I’m not.”

Rafe swallows hard, his hand still wrapped around your wrist, but his grip is loose, hesitant, like he’s waiting for you to pull away. But you don’t. You step closer instead, closing the last bit of distance between you, your free hand reaching up to cup the side of his face.

His skin is warm under your touch, and you can feel the tension in his jaw, the way his muscles are still tight with emotion. His eyes flutter shut for a moment, like he’s savoring the comfort, the reassurance, but when he opens them again, there’s something deeper there—something that makes your breath catch.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” you whisper, your thumb brushing lightly across his cheek. The weight of the argument, of everything unsaid between you, feels so heavy now, and all you want is to push past it, to move forward, to fix the crack that’s formed in the foundation of what you have with him. “I’m sorry for—”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Rafe cuts in gently, his voice barely above a murmur. He leans into your touch, his hand tightening ever so slightly around your wrist. “I shouldn’t have let it get this far. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

For a moment, neither of you speak. The storm of emotions between you slowly starts to settle, replaced by a tentative calm. The argument still lingers in the air, but it feels distant now, like something neither of you want to revisit. You can still feel the weight of what just happened, but standing here with him, close enough to feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, you know you’ll both be okay.

You always are.

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↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[edenesth]

ATEEZ as Disney Princes

Pairing(s): disney prince!ateez x disney princess!reader

Word Count: 14.4k

A/N: The title says it all. I thought it'd be fun to do something like this for the first time, deviating from my usual one member per story format teehee. Special thanks to my one and only, my pookie, @itstheghostofmypast, for helping me decide which Disney princes San, Mingi, and Wooyoung should be💘

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

Hongjoong ↠ Li Shang (Mulan)

• Leadership • Discipline • Protector •

"The Huns have struck here, here, and here," the senior General Kim pointed to the map, his voice steady and commanding. "I will lead the main troops to the Tung Shao Pass and stop Shan-Yu before he destroys this village. You will stay behind and train the new recruits. When Chi Fu believes you're ready, you will join us, Captain."

"Captain?" Hongjoong repeated, his voice filled with disbelief. This was the moment he had been dreaming of for as long as he could remember. He had trained the hardest and longest among his batch, fighting tirelessly to prove his worth to his commanding officer. It was finally his time to shine and demonstrate his capabilities.

"I believe you will do an excellent job," General Kim affirmed.

"Oh, I will. I won't let you down, sir," the younger man replied with determination.

It was during the Imperial dynasty in China that, as the Huns attempted to invade, the nation plunged into war. Yet, not all hope was lost. The young and fiery Captain Hongjoong was assigned to take charge of the new recruits. He would motivate them and push them to reach their full potential. His ability to inspire and lead by example would soon become evident as he transformed a group of untrained soldiers into a disciplined unit.

⁞

Throughout the training, Hongjoong enforces strict discipline among his soldiers. He sets high standards and expectations, ensuring that the recruits develop the necessary skills and physical conditioning through rigorous exercises. His disciplined approach is crucial in preparing them for the challenges ahead.

You would know this firsthand. Despite your best efforts, you had lost hope, feeling out of place because, at the end of the day, you were not a man. But Hongjoong didn't know that. No one in the camp knew.

"You're unsuited for the rage of war. So pack up and go home," he had said, shaking his head in disappointment as he stalked off.

There was something about him that made you want to fight harder, to prove that you could do what the other soldiers could. To his pleasant surprise, he emerged from his tent the following morning to see your fellow soldiers applauding you for successfully completing the toughest task in the camp.

This was exactly what he wanted to see.

You used to fear him for his harsh and uncompromising behaviour, but now you understand. In the face of war, no one would show you kindness or consideration. Captain Hongjoong was doing exactly what he needed to prepare everyone for that reality.

⁞

"You think your troops are ready to fight?" Chi Fu scoffed. "They wouldn't last a minute against the Huns!"

Hongjoong scowled, clenching his fists. "They completed their training."

"Those boys are no more fit to be soldiers than you are to be a captain. Once the general reads my report, your troops will never see battle," Chi Fu sneered, gesturing for the younger man to leave.

"We're not finished!" Hongjoong called out, grabbing the man's arm.

"Be careful, Captain. The general may be your father, but I am the Emperor's counsel. And I got that job on my own. You're dismissed," Chi Fu said snarkily, pulling open the flap of his tent.

There it was—the comment Hongjoong hated most. Being called the son of General Kim. He had heard enough whispers of nepotism, undermining his hard-earned success. He didn't want to be seen as just the general's son; he had worked tirelessly to earn his position.

He stormed out of the tent, surprised to see you standing there. "Hey, I'll hold him, and you punch," you joked nervously, but he frowned and continued walking. "Or not." You bit your lip as he walked away. "For what it's worth, I think you're a great captain."

His steps faltered for a moment, and he turned to meet your eyes briefly. In that fleeting glance, his eyes seemed to show what looked like a hint of appreciation before he continued on his way.

At least someone still believed in him.

⁞

And that someone was… a girl.

Hongjoong discovered this during the mountain battle when the Huns ambushed and you saved him. You had lied, fooling everyone, even him. How dare you? How dare you… try to save your father's life by volunteering to fight in the war? After the initial feelings of disappointment and betrayal, he realised just how brave you were—a quality that put cowardly men to shame.

Not only that, your perseverance had ended up saving China, something he couldn't have done without you.

Guilt overwhelmed him after leaving you behind, injured and alone on the snowy mountain, after you had risked your life to save his. The image of you lying vulnerable and exposed in the small tent haunted him—your hair finally let down, revealing your true identity; your petite frame contrasting with the fabric tightly wrapped around your chest to hide your gender. In his emotional turmoil at the time, he had abandoned you. But if he could do it over, he knew he would have done everything differently to protect you.

That's why he was determined to make up for his mistake by protecting you now, even though he knew deep down that he would have protected you regardless.

"Where is she?! Now she's done it! What a mess! Stand aside! That creature's not worth protecting," the Emperor's counsel screeched, trying to push past Hongjoong, who was shielding you. He gestured toward the destroyed portion of the palace from your earlier battle with Shan-Yu and his men.

The captain stood his ground. "She's a hero."

"She's a woman. She'll never be worth anything."

"Listen, you pompous..." Hongjoong growled, grabbing Chi Fu by the collar.

"That's enough!" the Emperor roared, breaking the two apart. The focus shifted to what was truly important: the fact that the war was finally over, thanks to a certain female warrior.

⁞

While Hongjoong possessed exceptional leadership skills, discipline, and a protective nature, he still had moments of foolishness.

"You, uhh... you fight good."

Was that all he could muster? After everything you had been through together, perhaps you were overthinking it. Maybe he didn't see you in that way at all. Maybe you were just another good soldier to him.

"Oh. Thank you."

Like an idiot, he watched you depart, a sense of longing tugging at his heart. Unbeknownst to him, the Emperor appeared beside him, clearing his throat before speaking, "The flower that blooms in adversity is the rarest and most beautiful of all."

"Sir?" Hongjoong blinked in confusion.

"You don't meet a girl like that in every dynasty," the Emperor remarked, indirectly calling the captain a fool, shaking his head in disbelief before returning to the palace.

Finally grasping the meaning behind His Excellency's words, Captain Hongjoong hastily mounted the nearest horse and rode swiftly to your family estate. He should have recognised the affection he felt for you sooner. Gosh, he truly had been clueless.

He arrived just in time to interrupt your tearful reunion with your father. "Uhh… you forgot your helmet!" he stuttered, turning awkwardly to the elderly man beside you, the one you had gone to war for. "W-well, actually, it's your helmet, isn't it? I mean…"

You suppressed a smile, feeling your heart flutter as you understood his obvious reason for visiting. Stepping closer to him, you reached out to accept the helmet. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

He blushed. "Dinner would be great."

Seonghwa ↠ Prince Charming (Cinderella)

• Gentlemanly • Graceful • Loyal •

"Miss! Are you alright?" the prince called out after helping you rein in your horse, which had been racing out of control. You huffed in frustration. "I'm fine, but you nearly scared the life out of him."

He frowned, confused. "Who?"

"The stag," you replied incredulously. How could he act so innocent when he and his group had been hunting down a poor creature? "What did he ever do to you to deserve being chased like that?"

His Highness struggled to suppress the smile tugging at his lips. The way you spoke of the animal as if it were a dear friend was endearing, and he could see that you genuinely cared for the animal. Not many girls your age, at least those he had met, would show such compassion. "Miss, what do they call you?"

Your smile faltered, memories of the cruel names your stepmother and stepsisters used flashing in your mind. "It doesn't matter what they call me."

"You shouldn't be this deep in the forest alone," he pointed out.

"I'm not alone. I'm with you, Mister...?" you said lightly, before pausing and glancing at him curiously. "What do they call you?"

Realising you had no clue who he was, he chuckled. "You don't know who I am?" His expression softened when he saw that you truly didn't recognise him. "Well... they call me Seonghwa. At least, my father does when he's in a good mood."

There was something refreshing about meeting someone who didn't know his royal identity, and he felt strangely free at this moment. Determined to keep it that way, he quickly came up with white lies to conceal the truth. Just then, you noticed the group of men who had been hunting with him gallop by, and you swallowed nervously. "You'll leave the stag alone, won't you?"

He paused, captivated by your sincerity and beauty—both inside and out—before nodding slowly. "I will."

⁞

"If I must marry, why not a good, honest country girl?" Seonghwa slyly suggested, posing for his portrait as part of the preparations for the royal ball, where he was expected to find a bride. Ever since meeting you that day in the woods, you hadn't left his thoughts.

The Grand Duke barely held back a chuckle. "And how many strong alliances will this 'good, honest country girl' provide us? How will she strengthen the kingdom? We are a small nation surrounded by powerful states, Your Royal Highness, and it's a dangerous world."

His Majesty sighed at the man's sarcastic tone and approached his son. "Listen, boy. I want to see you safe—and the kingdom secure."

Seonghwa's expression darkened at the gentle rejection. "Alright, Father, but on one condition. Let the invitations go to everyone, not just the nobility. The wars have brought grief to all of us."

That was all it took to set things in motion. "A ball for the people, a princess for the prince," the advisor muttered, unaware of how determined His Highness truly was. His plan to see you again was falling into place.

Days later, as you wandered through the town market, you heard the town crier make the announcement. "Know that in two weeks, a Royal Ball will be held at the palace. At said ball, in accordance with ancient custom, the prince shall choose a bride. Furthermore, by the prince's request, it is hereby declared that every maiden in the kingdom, be she noble or commoner, is invited to attend. Such is the command of our most noble king."

Eager to see the apprentice—at least, that's what he claimed to be—whom you'd met in the forest just the other day, you rushed home to share the news with your stepmother and stepsisters, brimming with excitement. But, of course, things were not going to unfold the way you had hoped.

⁞

"You shall not go to the ball!" were your stepmother's cruel words after she ripped apart your mother's old gown.

Yet here you stood, in front of everyone in the grand hall, now adorned in a magical gown and sparkling glass slippers, thanks to your fairy godmother. The prince's face lit up the moment he saw you, gazing at you like you were the most beautiful girl in the world—and to him, you were. No one could ever compare.

"Mr. Seonghwa," you called softly as the crowd parted, allowing you to approach him. His heart melted at the sound of his name on your lips. "It's you, isn't it?" he asked, smiling. "It is," you replied with a smile of your own.

Gathering his courage, he swallowed nervously. "If I may—it would be the greatest honour if you'd allow me to lead you in this first dance."

Your heart fluttered, and you nodded. With your permission, he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close. The proximity made your breath hitch as your hand rested on his shoulder. He spun you around, and for a moment, you caught the eyes of the crowd. "They're all looking at you," you whispered, turning to face him again.

He smiled softly, shaking his head. "Trust me, they're all looking at you." In that moment, nothing else mattered to him but you. Holding you close, he couldn't tear his eyes away, not even for a second. He could stay like this forever.

⁞

"So, you're the prince!" you exclaimed as he led you away from the crowd into a secluded room, offering you both a moment of peace and quiet.

"Not the prince, exactly," he replied with a playful grin. "There are plenty of princes in the world. I'm just a prince."

You chuckled softly. "But your name's not really Seonghwa, is it?"

He laughed. "Oh, it is. My father still calls me that—especially when he's not too irritated with me."

As you both shared a laugh, your eyes landed on a portrait hanging on the wall. "Is that you?" you asked curiously, moving toward it.

He sighed. "Ugh, I hate how I look in paintings. Don't you?"

You shrugged. "No one's ever painted my portrait."

He paused, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "No? Well, they should."

For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still as you stared at one another, neither wanting the moment to end. Reluctant to part from you, Seonghwa led you out into the palace garden.

"What's bothering you?" you asked, noticing the flicker of concern in his eyes as you strolled down the grassy paths.

He forced a smile. "When I go back, they'll try to marry me off to a lady of their choosing. I'm expected to marry for political advantage."

You gave him a gentle smile. "But surely you have a right to follow your own heart."

He sighed, wishing that were true. Not wanting the evening to end just yet, he guided you to a hidden spot. "A secret garden," you murmured in awe, stepping into the beautiful, secluded space. In the centre stood a swing, and at his insistence, he pushed you gently, laughing together until one of your glass slippers slipped off.

Like the gentleman he was, Seonghwa immediately knelt down to help you put it back on. Once it was secure, you found yourself sitting close to him, your breaths catching as he remained on his knees, gazing up at you.

"Won't you tell me who you really are?" he asked softly, a hint of desperation in his voice.

You swallowed nervously. "If I do, everything might change."

His expression tugged at your heart. "I don't understand... Can you at least tell me your name?"

You hesitated, then whispered, "My name is—"

The loud chime of the clock rang out, striking midnight. Panic surged through you. "I have to go! It's... hard to explain. Thank you for a wonderful evening. I've loved every moment!" were your final words as you hurried away.

⁞

"Miss, you are requested and required to present yourself before your king," said the captain of the royal guard, as your cruel stepmother finally unlocked the door to your attic room.

The king...?

That could only mean Seonghwa, with his father having recently passed. Despite your stepmother's desperate attempts to stop you, she could no longer keep you from meeting him. With nervous breaths, you made your way down to the living hall where he waited. Would you be enough? There was no magic to help you now.

"Who are you?" he asked, holding the single glass slipper in his hand.

With a deep breath, you finally spoke your truth. "Your Majesty, I'm no princess. I have no carriage, no parents, and no dowry. I don't even know if that beautiful slipper will fit. But if it does, will you take me as I am? An honest country girl who loves you."

A soft smile spread across his face. His loyalty has only ever been to you and only you from the very beginning. "Of course I will. But only if you will take me as I am."

In that final moment of truth, you sat before him just like that night, and without hesitation, Seonghwa gently slipped the shoe onto your foot. It fit perfectly. After searching the entire kingdom to find you, you were finally here, his at last.

A few days later, you stood beside him in a wedding gown, facing the people as their queen. "My Queen," he whispered, cupping your face amidst the cheers of the crowd.

"My Hwa," you murmured, just before he pressed his lips firmly against yours.

Yunho ↠ Prince Phillip (Sleeping Beauty)

• Brave • Romantic • Strong-willed •

"We want you to go pick some berries! Lots of berries! But take your time, dear. Don't wander too far, and remember—no talking to strangers! Goodbye, dear," your three godmothers chimed in unison as you waved them off. They were so charmingly silly, and though you knew they were up to something for your 16th birthday, you played along and agreed to leave the cosy little cottage you'd grown up in.

What you didn't know was that your godmothers were feeling bittersweet. After the celebration, they would be returning you to your true parents—the king and queen. They had kept you hidden all these years from Maleficent's curse, and now, believing it was finally safe, they prepared to send you home. Or so they thought.

Completely unaware of this, you happily made your way to the forest where you often spent your days, swinging the empty basket in your hand and singing a familiar tune.

Not far off, Yunho caught the sound of your voice—the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. He pulled his horse to a stop, biting his lip in wonder. "What is that? It's... beautiful." Turning toward the source of the melody, he couldn't resist. "Come on, let's go find out."

In his haste to reach you, his horse galloped ahead, easily leaping over a low log—unfortunately, not quite low enough for the prince. Yunho yelped as he was thrown into a shallow pond, landing with a splash. He groaned, unamused, as his horse sheepishly returned, having noticed his rider was no longer on board.

So much for chasing the magical voice. Now he was stuck with wet clothes, needing to dry off before he could continue his search.

⁞

"Why do they still treat me like a child? They never let me meet anyone..." you sighed, speaking to the animals gathered around you. "But guess what? I tricked them. I have met someone—a prince. He's tall, handsome, and... so romantic. We walk together, talk together, and just before we say goodbye, he takes me in his arms, and then..." you teased with a playful smile. "I wake up."

"Yes, it's only in my dreams."

Pushing aside your wistful thoughts, you continued to sing softly while gathering berries. But to your surprise, another voice joined in—a deep, masculine voice. Before you knew it, a pair of arms gently mirrored the way yours had been swaying in your daydream.

"Oh. Oh!" you gasped, pulling away as you realised this wasn't a dream. A man was standing before you, real and not imagined. Not wanting to frighten you, he kept his distance and bowed politely. "I'm terribly sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

You blinked, trying to calm your racing heart as you took in his features—he looked exactly like the man you had seen in your dreams. "Oh, it's not that... it's just that you're a..."

As you instinctively stepped back, he gently reached for your hand. "A stranger?" he finished for you, and you nodded. Before you could pull away, he smiled and held on softly. "But don't you remember? We've met before."

"We... have?" you whispered, your voice faltering.

He nodded, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. "Of course. You said so yourself. Once upon a dream."

You couldn't help the smile tugging at your lips as you turned away, amused by how he cleverly quoted your song. At first, you resisted, but soon you found yourself in his arms, dancing to the tune you had been singing. Except this time, you were no longer alone—you were dancing with him.

As if caught in a dream, you eventually leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder as the two of you stood beneath a tree, gazing out at the beautiful view. His voice was soft when he asked, "Who are you? What's your name?"

"My name..." you started, staring up into his eyes, momentarily mesmerised by them. You almost gave him your name, but then reality hit you—you didn't even know him. With a gasp, you pulled away from his hold. "No, no, I can't. I—I have to go! Goodbye!"

Yunho panicked, not ready to let you slip away. Call it love at first sight, but he knew, deep down, you were the one. "But when will I see you again?" he called out, his eyes filled with longing as he watched you retreat into the forest.

"Tonight! At the cottage in the glen!" you blurted out, against your better judgement. Deep down, you couldn't bear the thought of leaving and never seeing him again either.

⁞

"This is the happiest day of my life!" you exclaimed, admiring the beautiful dress and the delicious cake your godmothers had made for you. "Everything is so perfect. Just wait until you meet him!"

"Him? Y-you've met a stranger?" one of the fairies asked, concerned.

You smiled dreamily. "Oh, he's not a stranger. We've met before—once upon a dream."

The fairies exchanged worried glances, their hearts breaking as they realised... you were in love. "Oh no, this is terrible. You're already betrothed."

"Betrothed?" Your heart sank.

"Since the day you were born, dear. To Prince Yunho."

You frowned in disbelief. "But that's impossible! How could I marry a prince? I'd have to be..."

"A princess," they finished for you. "And you are, dear. Tonight, we're taking you back to your father, King Stefan."

Shaking your head, you struggled to process the sudden revelation. "But... I can't! He's coming here tonight. I promised to meet him."

"We're sorry, child, but you must never see that young man again," one of them said softly.

It felt like a cruel joke. Just when you had finally met the man of your dreams, it all crumbled. That night, you cried yourself to sleep, your 16th birthday turning into something far from the magical day you had hoped for. And it was only going to get worse.

With a curse of eternal sleep.

⁞

"Oh, come now, Prince Yunho. Why so melancholy?" Maleficent's sinister voice echoed through the dungeon as he lifted his head, his hands shackled in heavy chains. She had trapped him during his visit to your vacant cottage and now kept him imprisoned on her Forbidden Mountain. "A wondrous future lies before you," she mocked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You, the destined hero of a charming fairy tale come true."

With a wave of her hand over the glowing crystal ball atop her staff, she smirked. "Behold, King Stefan's castle." A vision slowly materialised in the crystal, and his heart sank.

"In the highest tower, dreaming of her true love, lies the princess," Maleficent sneered. "But in a cruel twist of fate, this sleeping beauty is none other than the peasant girl who won your heart just yesterday." Her grin widened as the image shifted. "In an ageless sleep, she rests, untouched by time. A hundred years will pass in the blink of an eye for a steadfast heart."

The crystal revealed an older, wearier version of His Highness. "And now, the gates of the dungeon open, and our valiant prince rides forth, tall and noble, to wake his love with a kiss—proving that true love conquers all!"

Her wicked laughter filled the air as the prince surged to his feet, straining against the chains. The revelation hit him hard—you were his betrothed all along. His heart shattered at the sight of you, cursed to an endless sleep. But he refused to wait idly for a century. No matter the cost, even if it took his life, nothing would stop him from reaching you and breaking the spell.

⁞

Through trials that nearly cost him his life more than once, Yunho pressed on, driven by a love that burned stronger than fear. Every step, every swing of his sword, had been for you. Now, as he climbed the winding staircase of the tower where you lay, his heart pounded louder than it ever had. Strangely, facing you was far more terrifying than battling a dragon or plummeting from a cliff.

What if his kiss didn't wake you? What if he wasn't the one you dreamed of all this time? His mind raced with doubts, but all of them vanished the moment he laid eyes on you.

There you were, peacefully resting, untouched by the passage of time. His breath caught in his throat as he knelt beside you, his hands trembling slightly, almost afraid that if he reached out, you might disappear like a fading dream. Gently, he lifted a hand to brush your hair away from your face, his fingers lingering as they drifted down to caress your cheek. The softness of your skin beneath his touch made his heart clench. God, you were beautiful. Even in this endless sleep, you were breathtaking, and the thought that you were his—the one his heart had longed for—was almost too much to believe.

Ignoring the wild rhythm of his heartbeat, he leaned in closer. He hesitated, his lips hovering above yours, terrified and hopeful. Slowly, he closed the distance, pressing his lips tenderly against yours, his touch as gentle as a whisper. Time seemed to stand still. His entire world narrowed down to that single, precious moment.

Then, something incredible happened. He felt you stir, your lips moving ever so softly in response to his. Tears welled up in his eyes as he pulled back slightly, his gaze searching your face, desperate to see the miracle of your awakening. "Please," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "come back to me."

A soft smile played on your lips as your eyes fluttered open. "I'm here, stranger," you murmured. Yunho let out a tearful laugh, pure joy flooding his heart as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. Nothing had ever felt so perfect.

Yeosang ↠ Hercules (Hercules)

• Strength • Determination • Humility •

A scream pierced the air, and without a second thought, Yeosang urged Pegasus to dive down past the clouds toward the waterfall, where a damsel was clearly in distress. This was it—his first real chance to prove himself as a true hero. Soon enough, he'd restore his godhood and join his parents back in Olympus.

"I swear, Nessus, put me down or I'll—" you growled, struggling in the grasp of the River Guardian, a centaur who was supposed to be an ally on your mission for Hades, but he was proving to be more trouble than he was worth.

"Ooh, I like 'em fiery," the creature sneered, pulling you closer as you tried in vain to wriggle free.

The hero-in-training gasped, his blood boiling at the sight of you being manhandled. Not on his watch. Ignoring his trainer's advice to assess the situation, he charged forward recklessly. Phil groaned. "This kid is losing hero points fast!"

"Halt!" Yeosang called out, though his voice wavered when Nessus towered over him. "Excuse me, sir," he continued, much to the centaur's surprise. Who was this polite little pest? "I'll have to ask you to release that young la—"

You shot him a frustrated look. "Keep walking, junior."

He blinked, confused. "But... aren't you a damsel in distress?"

"I'm a damsel, I'm in distress," you snapped. "I can handle it. Have a nice day." Despite your sarcastic smile, you were still stuck in the centaur's grip, struggling to break free.

Yeosang, however, wasn't one to give up so easily. A bit flustered by your brush-off, he unsheathed his sword. "Ma'am, I think you might be too close to the situation to—" Before he could finish, Nessus sent him flying across the field.

After several clumsy attempts and a lot of trial and error, he finally managed to free you from the River Guardian's hold, though you both ended up soaked in the river. Quickly, he lifted you out of the water as if you weighed nothing and set you gently on a nearby log. "Oh, gosh, miss, I'm really sorry. That was... kind of dumb."

"Yeah," you replied with a crooked smile, wringing out your hair. Before you could say anything more, he dashed back into the fray. You smirked, amused by his naive determination and innocent sense of righteousness. It had been a while since you'd seen such a genuine do-gooder. "Is Wonderboy here for real?"

⁞

"So, did they give you a name to go with all those rippling pectorals?" you teased, bending over to adjust the skirt of your dress.

The hero's mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water as he stared at you, now bathed in the golden light of the sunset. You were a sight for sore eyes—more beautiful than Aphrodite herself, he dared to think.

He chuckled nervously, stammering like a shy schoolboy. "Uh, I'm—I… uh…"

You smirked, standing back up and retrieving the shoes he had been awkwardly holding for you. "Are you always this articulate?"

"Yeosang!" he blurted out, watching you walk away. "My... my name's Yeosang!"

Making your way to a nearby log to sit down, you glanced up at him with a playful grin. "Yeosang, huh? I think I prefer Wonderboy."

He bit his lip, completely unaware of how poorly he was hiding his emotions. It was obvious to anyone that he was completely mesmerised by you. "So, how'd you get tangled up with that..."

"Pinhead with hooves? Oh, you know how men are. They think 'no' means 'yes' and 'get lost' means 'take me, I'm yours,'" you quipped, your voice dripping with sarcasm. He blinked, clearly confused by your response. You rolled your eyes and gestured toward his trainer. "Don't worry, shorty here will explain it to you later."

Phil shot you an irritated glare, but you just waved him off. "Well, thanks for everything, Yeo. It's been a real slice."

You had barely taken a few steps when the hero called after you again, his voice full of determination. "Wait! Can we give you a ride?"

You glanced at Pegasus and Phil, both clearly unimpressed with you, and smirked. "Nah, I'll be fine. I'm a big, tough girl. I tie my own sandals and everything."

Leaning in, you gave him a quick boop on the nose, chuckling as he stood there with that dreamy smile still plastered on his face. "Bye-bye, Wonderboy."

⁞

You hadn't expected to see him again so soon, but there he was, and you had to act fast. Running up to him, you let out a false cry. "Please! Help! There's been a terrible accident!" You hated dragging him into this, but with Hades holding your freedom hostage, you had no choice. You had to lure him into the trap.

The hero's face brightened the moment he saw you, your name escaping his lips with excitement. After his earlier failure in Thebes, seeing you lifted his spirits. He needed this—he needed you.

"Wonderboy! Yeosang! Thank goodness!" you exclaimed, stumbling into his arms with an air of desperation. His grip on you tightened protectively, his eyes wide with concern. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice full of worry.

Sniffling, you wiped your fake tears away. "Outside of town... two little boys. They were playing in the gorge. There was a terrible rockslide. They're trapped!"

"Kids? Trapped? This is my chance! Come on!" Before you could object, he had already hoisted you onto Pegasus despite your protests. "No, wait! I... I have a terrible fear of heights!" But it was too late—you were already in the sky, holding on tightly as the wind whipped past.

When you finally arrived, he noticed how shaken you seemed. His brow furrowed in concern. "Are you okay?"

You nodded weakly. "I'll be fine." But even then, he gently pulled you close, helping you down. The flutter in your chest was unwelcome—you shouldn't feel this way. You stayed back, watching as he rushed forward, unaware of the Hydra waiting to destroy him. Hades had set it up perfectly, and this was Yeosang's end. You should have focused on your own survival, but you couldn't help whispering under your breath, "Get out of here while you still can..."

Despite everything, he wasn't deterred. Time and again, he fought against what seemed like a certain defeat, his determination unshakable. Even after facing near death, he refused to give up, ultimately defeating the monster.

As much as you hated to admit it, seeing him fight with such bravery and resolve stirred something inside you. His courage, his power—it only deepened your admiration for him.

⁞

"Wow, what a day," Yeosang said with a wide grin, descending the stairs into the picturesque garden. "First, that restaurant by the bay, and then the play!" His voice was animated, clearly still buzzing from the events of your date. Meanwhile, you struggled to maintain your smile, Hades' voice echoing in your mind with his latest demand. His patience was thinning after so many failed attempts. Now, he wanted you to find the hero's weakness.

When he turned to you, thanking you for such a wonderful time, you winced inwardly. "Don't thank me just yet," you muttered, setting your plan into motion. You deliberately tripped on the stairs, conveniently falling into his strong arms.

"Oops! Weak ankles," you murmured, biting your lip as you savoured the feeling of being so close to him. His grip was firm yet gentle.

"Yeah? Maybe you should sit down for a bit," he suggested like the gentleman he always was, carrying you over to a bench and setting you down with care. But how long would he stay a gentleman?

You shrugged, letting one of your dress straps slide down your shoulder, flashing him a seductive smile. "So, do you have any problems like this?" you asked, testing the waters as you slowly lifted one leg onto his lap. "Weak ankles, I mean."

His eyes widened, and he cleared his throat, gently but firmly pushing your leg back down. "Oh, no. Not really..." he stammered, inching away while you leaned in closer.

"No weaknesses at all?" you teased, pressing against his chest. "No trick knee? Ruptured discs?"

Yeosang just chuckled nervously, his face reddening. Instead of falling for your flirtation, he reached over and pulled your strap back over your shoulder. "Nope. I'm... fit as a fiddle," he said, quickly moving away toward the fountain, where he clumsily tossed a coin and knocked over a statue.

You sighed, walking over to him. "Wonderboy, you're perfect," you muttered with a teasing laugh. Time seemed to freeze as your eyes met his, a flicker of something different passing between you. Biting your lip, you quickly looked away. Maybe, just maybe, he really was different from the men who had hurt you before.

⁞

"You know, when I was a kid, I would've given anything to be just like everyone else," Yeosang said softly, his eyes tracing the path of a shooting star across the night sky.

You scoffed, crossing your arms as you moved away to sit by the water, staring at your reflection with a bitter frown. "You wanted to be petty and dishonest?" You knew what people were like—you were one of them.

His smile faltered. "Not everyone's like that."

"Yes, they are," you whispered, more to yourself than to him.

"You're not like that," he said gently, appearing behind you. You smirked, feeling a tightness in your throat as you tried to keep your emotions in check. "How do you know what I'm like?" you croaked, wishing he'd stop making it so hard for you.

"All I know is you're the most amazing person with weak ankles I've ever met," he teased, his voice full of warmth. You chuckled until he continued, "When I'm with you, I don't feel so alone."

You avoided his gaze, your heart aching. "Sometimes it's better to be alone."

His smile faltered again. "What do you mean?"

You swallowed hard, your voice barely a whisper. "Nobody can hurt you."

He sat down beside you, reaching out to take your hands in his. "I would never, ever hurt you."

If only he knew...

Before you could say anything, he was already leaning in. Against your better judgement, your eyes fluttered closed, anticipation hanging between you. But just as your lips were about to meet, Pegasus and Phil appeared, breaking the moment and pulling Yeosang back to his training.

"I'm sorry for getting you in trouble," you murmured, feeling conflicted.

He just smiled, shaking his head, and handed you a small flower, gently pressing a kiss to your cheek. As he walked away, you were left behind—completely a mess.

⁞

"Wonderboy, why did you…?" you croaked, your voice weak after returning from death—literally. Yeosang had been crushed when he learned of your betrayal, discovering you had been working for Hades all along. But as you sacrificed yourself to save him, he realised none of that mattered anymore. Why hadn't he thought deeper about your reasons? If only he had understood that maybe you didn't have a choice.

In his selfless determination to exchange his life for yours, he had finally become a true hero. Tears welled up in his eyes as he helped you to your feet, pulling you gently back into his loving arms. "People always do crazy things when they're in love," he whispered—the same words you had said to him before your death.

So, he had felt the same all along.

"Now, at last, my son, you can come home," Zeus said, resting a proud hand on Yeosang's shoulder as he gestured to the now-open gates of Mount Olympus. The hero, now a god, beamed as the other gods swarmed him, celebrating his return.

From afar, you watched with a fading smile. Of course, he belonged to a different world. You were foolish to think you could ever truly be with him. "Congratulations, Wonderboy. You'll make one heck of a god," you whispered to yourself, turning to walk away.

But while the heavens rejoiced, Yeosang only had eyes for one person. His heart sank when he saw you leaving. "Father, this is the moment I've dreamed of my whole life, but…" He trailed off, racing after you and catching your hand. "A life without her, even an immortal life, would be empty. I… I wish to stay on Earth with her. I finally know where I belong."

And with that, he pulled you into his arms, the divine glow fading as he leaned in, his lips meeting yours at last.

San ↠ Kristoff (Frozen)

• Down-to-earth • Hardworking • Quirky •

"I was just wondering... has another young woman, maybe the queen, passed through here?" you asked, trying to sound casual, even though the bitter cold from Elsa's winter had you shivering uncontrollably. You were gathering what supplies you could from Wandering Oaken's Trading Post on your journey to find your sister. You needed to fix this, and to do that, she had to return to Arendelle.

"The only one crazy enough to be out in this storm is you, dear," the store owner chuckled, and you offered him an awkward smile. Before you could respond, the door suddenly swung open and slammed shut just as quickly. A man, completely covered in snow—literally—stepped in with a weary sigh, shaking off the frost by the entrance.

"You and this fellow," Oaken added, gesturing to the newcomer.

Without a word, the man walked straight to the counter, forcing you to step aside awkwardly. "Carrots," he muttered, stepping closer.

"Huh?" you blinked, confused by how close he was.

"Behind you," he clarified, and you realised you were blocking the carrots he was reaching for. Feeling a bit foolish, you quickly moved aside. "Oh! Right, sorry."

Through his conversation with the store owner, you caught a crucial piece of information. "The North Mountain..." you murmured to yourself, eyes narrowing in thought. That must be where Elsa had gone. At least now you had a lead—north it was.

"That'll be forty," Oaken said, ringing up the man's items.

"Forty? No, ten," the man countered, clearly unimpressed.

Deep in thought, you barely registered the tense negotiation between the two, both stubborn and unwilling to compromise. You only snapped back when you heard the man explain his dilemma—he sold ice for a living, and in this weather, he wasn't making any money. "Look, ten is all I've got. Help me out."

Before Oaken could respond, you jumped in. "Wait, just tell me one thing. What's happening on the North Mountain? Did it seem… magical?" There was desperation in your voice.

With an exasperated sigh, the man pulled down his scarf, revealing, to your surprise, a strikingly handsome face. For a second, you had thought him a brute. "Yes! Now back off while I deal with this crook."

Big mistake. The store owner stood up from his seat, towering over the both of you like a giant. "What did you call me?" And before the man knew it, he was tossed out of the shop—minus his carrots.

⁞

"Nice duet," you quipped, pushing open the door to the shack where you heard the man from earlier, now singing and impersonating his reindeer, Sven.

Startled, San jumped up defensively, only to relax with a sigh when he saw it was just you. "It's you again. What do you want?"

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward with determination. "I want you to take me up the North Mountain."

He remained unimpressed, sinking back down to resume his sleep. "I don't take people places."

You should've known it wouldn't be that easy. "Let me rephrase," you said, tossing a bag at him. He jolted up, wheezing from the impact. "Take me up the North Mountain," you repeated more firmly, though you softened a little as he raised a brow. "Please?"

Sven started sniffing the bag, drawing his attention. San opened it to find the tools he'd been after. You bit your lip. "Look, I know how to stop this winter."

With a sigh, he pulled his beanie over his face. "Ugh, we leave at dawn." Just as you were about to celebrate, he added, "And you forgot the carrots for Sven."

Frustrated but undeterred, you hurled another bag at him, this time hitting him square in the face. He grunted in pain, sitting up again. Your eyes widened in panic. "Oops! Sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean—" you stammered before regaining your composure. Clearing your throat, you declared firmly, "We leave now. Right now." You turned and marched out, letting out a breath of relief the moment you were out of sight. He really was intimidating.

Unbeknownst to you, he watched you leave, eyebrows narrowed. Not out of anger, but something else—a mix of mild annoyance and, oddly enough, admiration. You were quite the character.

⁞

"So, uhh, tell me—what made the queen go all ice-crazy?" San asked, trying to pry some information as the two of you sat on his sled, the cold winter night biting at your skin.

You gulped, unsure where to begin. "Well... it was kinda my fault. I got engaged, and she freaked out because I'd just met him that day, you know? She refused to bless the marriage and..." You trailed off, noticing the way he was staring at you.

"Wait, hold on—you got engaged to someone you just met that day?" he asked, his face a mix of disbelief and judgement.

You nodded, waving it off like it was no big deal. "Yeah, anyway, I got mad, she got mad, she tried to leave, and I grabbed her glove..."

He blinked and turned fully towards you. "Hang on! You're telling me you got engaged to a guy you just met that day?"

"Yes," you sighed in frustration. "Pay attention. The point is, she always wore gloves, so I figured maybe she has a thing about dirt or something."

San couldn't believe what he was hearing. You'd agreed to marry someone you'd only met that very day? Even if that someone was a prince, at the end of the day, he was just another man. The idea of it baffled him to no end. He couldn't help the surge of protectiveness that welled up in him. Sure, you seemed a little silly and unhinged compared to the girls he'd met, but you were still an innocent young woman—too trusting for your own good. And that could get you in serious trouble.

If judgemental had a face, it was sitting right next to you. "Didn't your parents ever warn you about strangers?"

You paused, the comment sinking in, and shifted uncomfortably, inching away from him. "Yes, they did. But Hans isn't a stranger."

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. That led to a back-and-forth about how much you really knew the Prince of the Southern Isles. The more you talked, the more San found himself silently shaking his head at your naivety, though he couldn't help but feel a small, growing fondness for you, as crazy as your story was.

Suddenly, he stiffened. "Stop talking."

You scoffed, still mid-argument. "No, no—"

Before you could finish, he slapped a hand over your mouth. "No, I mean it," his voice tense, eyes scanning the dark forest ahead.

⁞

"Wolves?" you asked anxiously, your heart pounding so hard it felt like it might leap out of your chest. "What do we do?"

"I got this," he said, busy moving around like he knew exactly what he was doing. But your nerves wouldn’t let you sit still. "Just… don't fall off and don't get eaten."

You frowned, stepping up beside him. "But I want to help!"

"No!" he barked, pulling you back.

"Why not?!"

"Because I don't trust your judgement!"

Your jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"

"Who marries a guy she just met?!" he shouted as he pushed you behind him and kicked away a wolf that had nearly pounced on you.

"It's true love!" you yelled back, swinging his guitar wildly. Startling him, but you managed to knock another wolf away. "Woah!"

Slightly impressed, he froze for a second, but in that moment of distraction, a wolf sank its teeth into his jacket, pulling him off the sled. You gasped, screaming, "Santiago!"

He grunted, grabbing onto the sled's rope, and glaring up at you. "It's San!"

"Ow!" he yelped as the wolves bit into his back. Despite barely knowing him, your heart dropped, hoping he wasn't seriously hurt. In a burst of quick thinking, you grabbed a bundle of cloth, lit it on fire, and threw it at the wolves, scaring them off.

As you regained control, you realised the sled was speeding toward the edge of a mountain. Your breath caught in your throat—the only way to make it across was if the reindeer jumped. "Get ready to jump, Sven!"

San shot you a look. "You don't tell him what to do. I do!" He shoved a bag into your arms before tossing you onto Sven's back. As you neared the cliff's edge, he shouted and cut the rope tying the reindeer to the sled. "Jump, Sven!"

After landing dangerously close to the mountain's edge, San's sled lay in ruins below, and he muttered something about just having paid it off. The narrow escape from death weighed heavily on you, especially when you saw him lying on the ground, an arm thrown over his eyes in sheer exhaustion. He was so done.

"I-I'll replace your sled and everything in it," you mumbled, guilt creeping into your voice. "And... I get it if you don't want to help me anymore." With a heavy sigh, you turned and started walking away, your heart sinking. Of course, he wouldn't want to stick around now. You'd caused him nothing but trouble, and he hadn't even volunteered to come with you—it was all your fault.

San groaned in frustration, his reindeer nudging him persistently, nodding toward your retreating, disheartened figure. "Of course, I don't want to help her anymore," he grumbled, sitting up. "This whole mess has cured me of ever helping anyone again."

"She'll die out there on her own," Sven's eyes seemed to say.

"I can live with that," San muttered, though his voice lacked confidence.

"But no new sled if she's dead!" The silent reasoning gnawed at him.

He slumped, casting an irritated glare at Sven. "Sometimes, I really don't like you." But as he heard you stumbling and fumbling your way through the snow, likely still trying to reach your sister, he rolled his eyes in dramatic defeat before shouting, "Hold up! We're coming!"

You turned around, your face lighting up before playing it off coolly. "You are? I mean... sure, you can tag along."

He chuckled, shaking his head, though he couldn't quite hide the smile tugging at his lips. Maybe, just maybe, he found you... kind of adorable. In fact, you were probably the most adorable person he'd ever met, if he were being honest. Not that you needed to know that. Hans was a lucky guy... maybe.

⁞

As the journey dragged on, San found himself increasingly drawn to you in ways he hadn't anticipated. He had written you off as reckless, even naïve. But the more time he spent by your side, the more he found himself softening.

It began with the small things—your silly jokes, the way you smiled at him even in the direst of situations, and the surprising concern you showed for his struggling ice business, despite the weight of your own problems. A part of him tried to deny it, chalking up his protectiveness to simply being a decent person. Yet, as the days went on, the truth became harder to ignore, especially as you started to weaken.

The first time he truly noticed was when you faltered, clutching your chest as the icy curse gripped you. His heart clenched painfully at the sight of you, pale and fragile in a way that scared him. At first, he didn't understand what was happening—until he saw the streaks of white creeping into your hair. His stomach twisted in fear as he watched you shiver uncontrollably.

San tried to fight it at first, keeping his feelings hidden behind casual smiles and forced reassurances. He'd wrap you in his cloak, telling himself that he was just looking out for you like anyone else would. But inside, he was terrified. Each time you winced or stumbled, the protective instinct inside him flared, and it became harder to ignore. He wanted to hold you, to keep you safe, but he told himself that keeping his distance was for the best.

Until it wasn't.

After watching you grow weaker, he couldn't stand it any longer. You were so cold, so frail, barely able to keep yourself upright. Your hair had turned almost entirely white, and the violent shivering never stopped. When you could no longer walk on your own, San didn't care anymore. He scooped you into his arms without hesitation, cradling your fragile body against his chest. Your icy fingers clung weakly to his sleeve, barely able to hold on.

Perhaps the trolls had been right. Maybe what you needed was true love's kiss. The thought sent a wave of fear through him, not because he doubted it, but because he wanted it to be him. Holding you close, trembling as he tried to keep you warm, he swallowed hard, fighting back the lump in his throat.

"We've got to get you back to Hans," he whispered, though the name felt like a sharp blade twisting in his chest.

"A-are you g-gonna be okay?" you asked, voice weak and trembling as you struggled to stay conscious. Your eyes fluttered open, full of worry, and San's heart ached even more.

He forced a smile, though the pain in his chest was undeniable. "Don't worry about me," he said, though the crack in his voice betrayed him. He couldn't tell you the truth—that the very thought of giving you to Hans was tearing him apart.

⁞

As he left the castle gates, his arms now empty without your fragile form, the weight of his feelings bore down on him, suffocating. Even Sven could sense it. His reindeer nudged him softly, as if to say, you can't let her go.

San clenched his jaw, shaking his head at the reindeer's knowing gaze. "No, Sven! We're not going back! She's with her true love."

But none of that mattered the moment he noticed the fierce snowstorm suddenly engulfing Arendelle. His eyes widened with panic as he realised something was terribly wrong. Without a second thought, he sprinted back toward the castle, his heart racing, your name ripping from his throat as he shouted through the howling winds.

Snow and ice whipped through the air, blinding San as he fought against the wind, desperately searching for you. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat louder than the roar of the storm. Then, through the blizzard, he saw you—a frail figure swaying weakly amidst the violent storm.

His breath hitched, a strangled cry escaping him as he realised how dire your condition was. Your hair was completely white, and your skin had started to turn into a translucent blue, as if turning to ice. Panic surged through him, and without hesitation, he dashed toward you, every muscle in his body straining against the storm.

You took tiny, shaky steps towards him, your voice barely audible above the howling wind. "San..." The way you uttered his name sent a jolt through him, a painful reminder of just how close he was to losing you. He pushed himself harder, the distance between you seeming to stretch endlessly.

"Hold on!" he shouted, though he wasn't sure if you could hear him over the storm. He could see the effort it took for you to move, each step a struggle against the encroaching ice.

Just when he thought he might finally reach you, you changed direction abruptly. His heart stopped as he watched you rush towards your sister, trying to protect her from Hans. The realisation hit him like a thunderclap: in your attempt to shield your sister, you were sacrificing yourself.

He watched in horror as you turned completely into ice, your form crystallising before his eyes. The storm seemed to quiet for a moment, a heavy silence descending as you stood there, frozen.

Desperation clawed at him, and he fought through the storm to reach you. When you returned to your normal state, he was already there, cradling you in his arms. He refused to be a coward again, not after everything you had been through. The fear of losing you was unbearable, and he was determined not to let go.

Holding you close, he buried his face in your hair, breathing in your warmth, feeling your heartbeat against his chest. "I'm not letting you go," he whispered fiercely, his voice breaking with emotion. "Not now, not ever. If you'll let me, I'll hold you close forever."

His heart ached as he clung to you, the world around him fading into insignificance. The storm may have raged on, but in that moment, all that mattered was you.

Mingi ↠ Flynn Rider (Tangled)

• Charm • Wit • Adventurous •

"Is this… hair?" Mingi croaked in confusion as his eyes fluttered open to the unexpected realisation that he was tied up. The last thing he remembered was climbing up a tower hidden in the forest to escape from the royal guards and the Stabbington brothers.

"Struggling…" came a feminine voice from somewhere in the shadows. "Struggling is pointless."

He furrowed his brows. "Huh?"

"I know why you're here, and I'm not afraid of you," you said, gripping your frying pan tightly as you slowly emerged from your corner and finally stepped into the light.

Oh me, oh my. What do we have here?

The intruder looked genuinely confused as he took a moment to register your appearance. You were a sight to behold, that much was undeniable, but you were also threatening him with a kitchen tool, and truthfully, he wasn't very into that.

"Who are you and how did you find me?" you asked, glaring at him.

But man, were you beautiful.

"Uh huh…" was all he could muster.

Frustrated, you repeated yourself, raising your weapon higher. "Who are you and how did you find me?"

Clearing his throat, he began his rehearsed speech for situations like this. He had yet to meet any lady who wouldn't fall for his charms. As much as he would love to hang around, he had more important things to do. "I know not who you are nor how I came to find you, but may I just say…" He looked down momentarily, then met your gaze again with a rather... questionable expression. "Hi. How you doin'? The name's Flynn Rider. How's your day goin', huh?"

To his surprise, your hostility persisted. "Who else knows my location?" you demanded, aiming the pan at him.

Man, how did the smoulder not work?

⁞

Mingi let out a long sigh, staring ahead in exasperation as you ran circles around him with boundless enthusiasm. Lord, how did he get himself into this? He was stuck in this ridiculous situation because he needed the crown he had just stolen from the palace. The deal was simple: he would take you to see the lanterns and bring you back.

But he had no time for that.

Determined to avoid the whole ordeal, he hatched a foolproof plan. He would take you to the Snuggly Duckling, a tavern with a motley crew of thugs and ruffians. Surely that would scare you off.

As you twirled around, he muttered under his breath, "This is going to work. It has to work."

You paused mid-spin. "Did you say something?"

"Nothing!" he replied, forcing a smile. "Just… thinking about how much fun we're going to have."

He let out a sigh of relief as the Snuggly Duckling came into view. He couldn't help but grin at the look of horror that flashed across your face when you saw the rowdy tavern. This was going perfectly.

"You don't look so good, blondie. Maybe we should get you home, call it a day. This is a five-star joint, after all. If you can't handle this place, maybe you should be back in your tower," he said, trying to sound sympathetic while suppressing a smirk.

Just as he thought his plan was working, Mingi cursed under his breath as the main door slammed shut, and a burly man pressed a "Wanted" poster of him against it.

"Is this you?" the man growled, squinting at the poster.

Crap, crap, crap. This is not good.

The thief's eyes widened in dread as he moved the man's finger off the painting of his nose. His heart sank even further. They had gotten his nose wrong... again.

"Now they're just being mean," he muttered to himself, more upset about the artistic injustice than the actual danger he was in.

⁞

The last thing Mingi expected happened. As the thugs closed in, you suddenly began to sing a silly little song about having a dream. At first, he stared at you in disbelief, but then something miraculous happened. The roughest and toughest of the bunch started to join in, swayed by your infectious innocence and charm.

A reluctant smile soon spread across his face. As impractical as it seemed, your innocence had saved you both. "I can't believe that worked," he muttered, watching the formerly hostile crowd now swaying together harmoniously.

But the relief was short-lived.

The doors burst open, and royal guards flooded the tavern. "There he is!" one of the guards shouted.

"Time to go!" He grabbed your hand, pulling you towards a hidden exit. The chase led you to a dangerous cave, the sound of the guards echoing behind you.

The thief's adventurous spirit shone brightly as he led you through perilous situations, always thinking on his feet and embracing the thrill. He expertly navigated the cave, his confidence never wavering even as the path grew treacherous.

But things took a dire turn when the cave began to collapse. Rocks tumbled down, trapping you both under the debris. Water started to fill the cave, and panic set in. Despite his fear, he remained focused. He pulled you out of the water when you dipped back under, refusing to let you drown.

"Hey, there's no point. It's pitch-black down there," he said, gently moving some hair out of your face, his eyes filled with a rare vulnerability.

You felt a pang of guilt as you saw the hopelessness in his expression. "This is all my fault," you whimpered. "Mother was right. I never should have done this. I'm so sorry, Flynn," you cried.

He sighed, gazing at you sobbing pitifully before whispering, "Mingi."

"What?" you turned to look at him, confused.

"My real name is Song Mingi. Someone might as well know."

You smiled softly through your tears. "I have magical hair that glows when I sing."

His eyes widened in exasperation. "What?"

⁞

Just as he thought he couldn't possibly be more amazed, his admiration and affection for you only grew. He watched in awe as you healed his injury with your glowing hair, the pain ebbing away under your touch. Listening to your story, he saw the depth of your courage and determination, traits he deeply admired.

For the first time in his life, Mingi felt comfortable enough to open up about himself. He let down all the walls he had built over the years, sharing his dreams, fears, and the loneliness that had always shadowed him. Something had changed since then, and neither of you had been more certain about your feelings for each other than on the night of your birthday.

He had kept his promise and taken you to see the lanterns. As you both floated on the water, surrounded by the magical glow of thousands of lanterns, he realised that seeing you happy meant more to him than the riches he had dreamed about for so long. This moment, this connection, you—mattered more than anything.

The thief realised that none of the money or recognition would ever mean anything if it meant being without you. Perhaps Flynn Rider was so much more than just a witty and adventurous prince; he was also a romantic at heart. This truth became painfully clear as he prepared to sacrifice his own life to free you, the love of his life, from the clutches of your kidnapper.

On the verge of his own death, he made a heartbreaking decision. He would rather cut your hair, stripping it of its magical properties before you could save him, than allow Mother Gothel to use you any further. With a swift motion, he severed your once-blonde hair, watching as it returned to its original colour.

"Mingi!" you cried, watching in despair as the magic faded. You pulled him into your arms, cradling his face. "No, no, no. Mingi," you pleaded desperately. "Look at me. I'm right here. Don't go. Stay with me."

He smiled weakly, his strength fading. He cupped your face with a trembling hand. "You were my new dream."

Your heart shattered as tears streamed down your cheeks. His hand fell limp beside him, his eyes closing as his life slipped away.

"And you were mine," you whispered, your voice breaking as you held him close, the pain of losing him overwhelming.

⁞

But things took a miraculous turn. Your magic, which had always been tied to your hair, still remained in the essence of your tears. As you cried over him, a single tear fell onto his face, glowing brightly before seeping into his skin.

Suddenly, his breath hitched, and his eyes fluttered open. Life returned to him as the magic worked its way through his body. You gasped, pulling him closer, barely able to believe what was happening.

"Mingi!" you exclaimed, joy and relief flooding your heart.

He looked at you, his eyes filled with wonder and gratitude. "You're magic," he whispered, holding you tightly. Without another word, he pressed his lips firmly against yours, pouring all his love and thankfulness into the kiss.

As he held you close, he silently thanked the heavens for granting him a second chance at life. He vowed to start over and be a better person for his princess. At that moment, everything felt right, and he knew that his new life with you would be the greatest adventure of all.

Wooyoung ↠ Aladdin (Aladdin)

• Energetic • Street-smart • Charismatic •

"Hey! You there, stealing from my brother!" the merchant barked through the bustling market as you handed two starving children the bread you had taken.

You blinked, caught off guard. "Stealing? No, I—"

"You either pay, or I take the bracelet," he sneered, his hand reaching for your mother's bracelet clasped around your wrist. "Let go of me!" you cried, struggling in his grip.

Before the situation could escalate, someone swooped in and pulled you free, placing you protectively behind him. "Easy, Jamal," the young man said calmly, trying to diffuse the situation. But the merchant only glared at you. "Kalil turns his back for a moment, and this one," he jabbed a finger toward you, "steals the bread!"

You huffed in frustration. "Those children were starving!"

The young man sighed, turning to you and lowering his voice. "Do you have any money?" You shook your head. He smiled softly, then gripped your bracelet. "Okay, trust me." Something in his gaze made you feel secure, so you did—against all odds, you trusted him.

You watched in disbelief as he removed your bracelet and handed it over to the merchant. "Here, this is what you wanted, right?"

The merchant grinned, satisfied. "Yeah, thank you!"

"And here's an apple, for your troubles," the young man added with a grin, tossing the merchant a fruit before quickly pulling you away, ignoring your protests. "Hey! I'm not leaving without my bracelet!"

He pulled you closer as you hurried through the market. "You mean this bracelet?" he murmured, revealing the very same bracelet in his hand. Instantly, your worry melted. "Come on."

As you both moved, you suddenly heard the merchant shout behind you, "Wooyoung! Jung Wooyoung! Thief!"

You turned, your breath catching. "Are we in trouble?" you asked. He smirked, his confidence unwavering.

"Only if we get caught."

⁞

"I can't believe..." you trailed off, staring at the breathtaking view from his balcony. "I can't believe we actually did that. That I did that. That we made it out alive!" you exclaimed, still reeling from the intense chase that had led you here. You couldn't shake the memory of him holding your hands, guiding you to safety.

"Thank you... for getting me out of there. Wooyoung, right?" you smiled bashfully, and he rubbed the back of his neck, a little shy. "You're welcome..." he gestured toward you, waiting for your name.

You froze for a split second. "I... I'm Dalia," you blurted out, using your handmaid's name as a cover. No one could know your true identity—not even him.

"Dalia... from the palace," he said, his tone more knowing than surprised. You stayed silent, your back to him. How did he— "Only someone from the palace could afford a bracelet like that," he continued. "And that silk? It's imported, comes straight to the palace from the merchant ships. But not for most servants, which means... you're the handmaid to the princess."

You sighed, finally turning to meet his eyes, a small smile on your lips. "Impressive."

"If you think that's impressive, you should see the city from up there," he said, pointing to the second floor of his humble home. You didn't need to be told twice and eagerly headed up. "Agrabah... it's beautiful. I really should get out more."

He chuckled. "You should tell the princess that." Your smile faded slowly. "The people haven't seen her in years."

Your fists clenched slightly. "They won't let her. Ever since... the queen was killed, the sultan's been terrified. She's kept locked away."

He looked down, a touch of sadness in his voice. "Seems like everyone's been living in fear since then. But the people of Agrabah loved her. The queen."

Your heart warmed at his words. "They did, didn't they?"

As the conversation shifted to his past, you were saddened to learn of the hardships he had endured. He sighed deeply. "Every day I hope things will change, but it never seems to. Sometimes, I feel like I'm just..."

"Trapped," you finished for him, your voice soft. "Like you can't escape what you were born into?" He nodded, meeting your gaze. For a moment, you thought you could trust him. But that hope wavered when he struggled to return your bracelet at your departure.

"So you are a thief," you said, your voice tinged with disappointment. "I'm so naive."

⁞

"But Dalia, I was born for more than just marrying some useless prince!" you argued after meeting yet another potential suitor from Skanland that afternoon.

Your handmaid sighed. "If you had to marry a useless prince, you could certainly do worse than this one. He's tall, handsome, and yes, a bit dim, but it's just a marriage. Although, I suspect you'd rather marry that boy from the market," she finished, and you scoffed.

As she went off to prepare your bath, there was a knock at your door. With a frown, you opened it. "Can I help you?" you asked, and the person turned around. Your eyes widened in shock. "You? You! What are you doing here? Get in here!"

Wooyoung smirked. "I came to return your bracelet."

"My bracelet? Where is it?"

"On your wrist," he replied, and you gasped, glancing down to see it securely in place. "Wait, how did you get past the guards?" you asked in disbelief.

He grinned mischievously. "That was tricky, but I have my ways. While the princess is out, how about a stroll? We can chat."

You crossed your arms, half-irritated, half-amused. "You are unbelievable," you muttered, annoyed at his audacity but even more so at how attractive he was. "You can't just break into the palace and act like you own the place!"

"If you don't have anything, you've got to act like you own everything," he shrugged, flashing a grin. You stared at him, realising you'd never met anyone like him—because no one was like him. "So, what do you say?"

"No! You need to leave, now!" you insisted, pushing him toward the door.

"Fine, but I'm coming back tomorrow," he said confidently. "Meet me in the courtyard by the fountain when the moon is above the minaret." He gestured behind him, and before you could react, he removed your hair clip, waving it teasingly. "To return this."

Your breath caught when he leaned closer, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His voice was a whisper. "I promise." Perhaps you were a fool; you should have known better than to believe him.

⁞

The next time you saw him, you barely recognised him, thanks to the Genie's magic. He was now Prince Young of Wonderland—a clumsy prince who seemed to be trying to "buy" you with his riches, or at least that was what he said, as he awkwardly stumbled over his words. His first impression was far from impressive, and despite his best efforts, nothing he did seemed to win you over.

After countless failed attempts, he finally realised what he needed to do: just be himself. "There's a whole world beyond these books and maps. You should see it."

"How? Every door is guarded," you replied, a bit wistful.

"Who said anything about a door? Sometimes, princess, you just have to take a risk," he said with a grin before climbing over your balcony and leaping off. You gasped, your hands flying to your mouth, heart in your throat. "What just happened?"

Moments later, he reappeared on a floating carpet. You sighed in relief. "Is this…?"

"A magic carpet? Yes," he smirked, offering his hand. "Do you trust me?" Your heart skipped a beat as those words echoed something familiar. "What did you say?" you croaked. He repeated, his eyes steady on yours. "Do you trust me?"

You hesitated before nodding and placing your hand in his. "Yes."

As the carpet soared over a village, you watched the people below celebrating around a fire. You smiled as the prince draped his coat around your shoulders. "Of all the places you've shown me, this is the most beautiful."

"Sometimes, you just have to see it from a different perspective," he replied. You shook your head gently. "No, it's them—the people. They make it beautiful. And they deserve a leader who understands that. I don't know why I think it could be me."

He turned to you, his expression sincere. "Because it should be you."

"Do you really think so?" you asked softly. He reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, and for a moment, you froze. Only one other person had done that before—

"Does it matter what I think?" he asked, breaking the spell.

By the end of the night, you learned he was who you had suspected all along, though you were now convinced he had been a prince from the start. Wooyoung, caught up in the joy of the moment, kissed you goodnight, only to later drown in constant guilt and worry that the lie he was still hiding could ruin everything.

⁞

But none of that mattered when you discovered it had all been a lie. Even caught up in the battle against Jafar, Wooyoung was still the one you trusted most. And you knew you were right to trust him because, despite the difficult situation, he chose to return to your side and protect you. His actions proved his genuine care for you.

Your feelings for him deepened when he made his third and final wish. Instead of using it to abolish the law that required the princess to marry royalty, he selflessly used it to free the Genie.

"You shall be the next sultan," your father said. "As sultan, you can change the law." He gestured to where Wooyoung had stood moments earlier, but now he was gone. Your heart sank, and your father gently nudged you. "Go after him before it's too late."

And you did just that.

Breathless, you found him only a few steps outside the palace, your hair clip still in his hands. "Stop, thief! Your sultan commands it!" you called after him, your tone teasing.

He turned, biting his lip and holding up the clip. "Sultan? Does that mean I'm in trouble?"

Your heart fluttered at those familiar words. With a smile, you approached him. "Only because you got caught," you whispered before kissing him. The crowd around you erupted in cheers as he pulled you close, returning your kiss with equal passion. At that moment, he realised his wish had come true after all.

Jongho ↠ Prince Eric (Little Mermaid)

• Kind-hearted • Brave • Dependable •

"Max! Come here, boy," the man on board called out to his dog, who had momentarily been distracted by your presence near the side of the ship. Your eyes widened as you took in his striking features—he was human. You'd never seen one this closely before.

Carefully staying hidden, you continued to watch as an elderly man stepped forward to quiet the crew. "Silence, silence. It is now my honour and privilege to present our esteemed Prince Jongho with a very special, very expensive, and very large birthday present," he announced, gesturing toward a massive object draped in cloth at the center of the ship.

"Ah, Grimsby, you old beanpole, you shouldn't have," said the handsome man, whose name you now know to be Jongho and that he was... a prince.

The old man smiled bashfully. "I know. Happy birthday, Jongho." With that, the cloth was pulled away to reveal a heroic statue of the prince. Instead of reacting as Grimsby had likely hoped, the prince grimaced slightly. "Uh, gee, Grim..." he cleared his throat awkwardly. "It's, uh... really something..."

"Yes, I commissioned it myself. I had hoped it would be a wedding gift." Grimsby's tone was hopeful, but Jongho just chuckled. "Come on, Grim. Don't start. You're not still upset that I didn't fall for the Princess of Glowerhaven, are you?"

"Oh my, it's not just me. The entire kingdom wants to see you happily settled down with the right girl."

Jongho smiled, leaning against the railing. "Well, she's out there somewhere. I just... haven't found her yet. But trust me, Grim, when I do, I'll know. It'll hit me, like lightning—no question about it."

Your heart fluttered as you listened from just below. You'd never felt this way about any merman, but you wanted to be that girl for him. He seemed so near, yet impossibly far at the same time.

⁞

Perhaps he shouldn't have said those words—maybe he jinxed it. What started as a cheerful celebration turned into chaos within seconds, as lightning struck and set the ship ablaze.

You watched anxiously from the sidelines, praying he'd be alright. But your heart sank when you saw him dive back into the ocean from a lifeboat, only to return to the ship to save his dog. Though he managed to rescue the pet, he put himself in grave danger, trapped as the ship exploded. Gasping, you swam toward him, just in time to see him weakly cling to a plank before slipping into the water.

Without hesitation, you dove in, gripping his larger frame and fighting through the waves to bring him to the surface. With sheer determination, you swam to shore, finally laying him on the sand as the sun began to rise.

"Thank goodness, he's still breathing. He's... beautiful," you whispered, gently brushing his wet hair and caressing his cheek. As you sang softly, a familiar tune you'd often hum when dreaming of life on land and now... of him, you saw his eyes flutter open. He smiled at you, placing his hand over yours.

Before you could say a word, you heard Grimsby's voice echo along the beach. In a flash, you were gone before Jongho could fully grasp what had happened.

"Jongho! Oh, Jongho! You really enjoy testing my poor heart, don't you?" the old man grumbled, helping him up.

"A girl... she saved me. She was singing... with the most beautiful voice," the prince murmured dreamily, his eyes still scanning the horizon. Grimsby chuckled. "Ah, Jongho, I believe you've swallowed a bit too much seawater."

You watched from afar, your heart aching as they walked away. Did he feel the same way you did? Was this... love? Because you missed him already.

⁞

Humming the melody that had lingered in his mind ever since you rescued him, Jongho was interrupted by the sudden arrival of his dog. Max sprinted across the sandy beach, barking and leaping excitedly at his owner. "What's up, boy?"

The dog darted forward, and without hesitation, he chased after him. You gasped when Max ran up to you, quickly scooting back onto a rock to keep your distance from the unfamiliar animal.

"Max? What's gotten into you?" the prince's voice called out as he appeared, just in time to see his dog circling you. His breath caught when his eyes landed on you. "Oh... I see."

"Are you alright, miss?" he asked softly, stepping closer. "I'm sorry if this troublemaker scared you. He's harmless, I swear..." His voice trailed off as he looked from his dog to meet your eyes. "You look... familiar. Have we met before?"

You nodded immediately, a beaming smile lighting up your face.

"It's you, isn't it? The one I've been searching for," he murmured, gently taking your hands in his. "What's your name?"

But when you opened your mouth to speak, no sound came out. That's when it hit you—you had given your voice to Ursula in exchange for legs, and now had only three days for Jongho to kiss you with true love's kiss, or else you'd belong to the sea witch for an eternity.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concerned. You pointed to your throat, shaking your head. "You can't speak? Oh..." His expression fell. "Then you can't be the girl I thought..."

Frustrated, you frantically waved your hands, trying to show him that you were the one. In your desperate movements, you lost your balance and stumbled forward—right into his strong arms.

"Woah, careful!" he said, holding you close to steady you.

For a moment, the world seemed to freeze as the two of you stood still, his arms wrapped securely around your waist while your hands clung to his shoulders. He gazed into your eyes, his expression softening. "You've been through something, haven't you? Don't worry—I'll help you."

⁞

Despite finding your quirks a bit odd, Jongho couldn't help but be charmed by your playful nature. On top of that, you were easily one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. He had noticed it when he first met you, but after the maids had cleaned you up and dressed you like a princess, he could barely tear his eyes away. For a moment, he even forgot about the girl he had been searching for, now looking forward to spending the next day showing you around town.

Time flew by, and your second day on land seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. You wandered through the streets together, hands intertwined, sharing meals, dancing, and laughing. Each moment felt magical, filled with heart-fluttering closeness that made it feel like the two of you were already a couple. It was the best day of your life, a world apart from anything you'd ever known. It would've been perfect—if only he would just kiss you.

But there was still time, and you held on to hope. That evening, he took you on a romantic boat ride, and it felt like the moment was finally about to happen. He leaned in a few times, but each time, he hesitated, as if reminding himself you weren’t the one he thought he was looking for. Your heart sank with every pause. Still, after learning your name and feeling a deeper connection, he came so close...

Close enough for Ursula to interfere.

That night, he stood outside, looking melancholy as he hummed the same song that had haunted him since he was rescued. "Jongho, if I may," Grimsby said gently, approaching him. "Sometimes, the best match isn't a dream girl, but someone of flesh and blood—someone warm, caring, and right before your eyes," he suggested, gesturing toward your room, where you were absentmindedly brushing your hair with a fork once again.

Jongho chuckled softly, shaking his head at your antics. Perhaps Grimsby was right. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if you weren't the girl he had been searching for... after all, you made him happy. But before he could think further, a woman named Vanessa appeared, casting him under a spell that blinded him to everything—especially you.

⁞

Wiping away your tears, you knew you had to find a way to get to him. Your heart was shattered when you heard he was marrying another woman, but deep down, you should have known something was off. Of course, it was the sea witch and her wicked schemes.

Thankfully, Max, the loyal dog, seemed just as frustrated with Vanessa as you were. He aggressively tugged at her dress, refusing to leave her alone. In the chaos, her seashell necklace—the one that held your voice—fell to the ground and shattered. At last, the spell was broken, and you could speak again. The moment Jongho heard your voice, recognition filled his eyes. "You're the one. It was you... all along."

You nodded, your voice trembling with emotion. "Yes, Jongho. I've been trying to tell you."

"No! Stay away from her!" Vanessa screamed, but the prince ignored her, pulling you close and leaning in to kiss you. Before he could, you gasped, falling to the ground as your legs transformed back into a tail. Ursula's wicked laughter echoed as she returned to her true form, slithering towards you and grabbing hold. "So long, lover boy," she hissed.

His heart nearly stopped as he watched the witch drag you into the depths of the sea. But he wasn't about to lose you again. This time, he would fight with everything he had to save you.

And he did. The battle was fierce and exhausting, but he remained determined. Jongho cleverly commandeered a ship and steered it straight into Ursula, risking everything to put an end to her reign of terror.

Even in his exhaustion, he didn't rest until he found you. This time, you had legs—real, permanent ones—granted by your father after seeing the love you shared. And when he finally reached you, he pulled you close, refusing to let go. "I'm sorry I made you wait so long, but I'm yours now if you'll have me."

I'm aware the format for each story is kinda inconsistent HAHA but that's because this has been in the works for a while now, and the time taken to finish these one by one was long enough for me to develop a new style for nearly every story when I get to them.

Not sure if this was any good. While proofreading, I realised there's a chance this might not make much sense for readers who have not watched these movies. But y'all, let me know your thoughts! <3

General ATEEZ Tag list:

@aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 |

@evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho |

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @skzline |

@sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid @tinyteezer @hollxe1 |

@pandabur666 @vampzity @tournesol155 @lilactangerine @oddracha |

@haven-cove @idfkeddieishot @vic0921 @vnessalau @apriecotte |

@bangtannie7 @vtyb23 @khjoongie98 @scuzmunkie @anxiousskylar |

@bunny4yungi

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[dior-luxury]

hi!!! could you write a reaction where y/n says that (karasu, shidou and barou's) hair looks better down? Tyy! 😋

𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧 ��𝐨𝐫𝐞

( ✧ ) ────── 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 . 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚 - 𝐬𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐞𝐫 .

- [𝐜𝐡.] karasu tabito . barou shoei . shidou ryusei - [𝐩:𝐬] sfw

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: This is such a funny prompt (￣▽￣)! I have always loved how these three looked with their hair down and it sucks that the manga/anime didn't show it.. (>_<) cause I would've eaten it up lol.

Karasu Tabito

He takes great pride in his hair and spends a lot of time styling it each day. His unique, gravity-defying hairstyle is his trademark look. However, light-hearted comments about his hair can annoy him, as he feels they show a lack of appreciation for the effort he puts into it. For Karasu, his hairstyle is a crucial part of his identity.

Once you gently explained to him that his hair was perfectly fine just the way it was—and that you simply preferred seeing it down—he seemed to relax a bit. Although neither of you would openly admit it, there was an unspoken understanding that he actually favored the feel of his hair without all the gel weighing it down. There was a sense of liberation in letting it cascade freely, and he might find himself embracing that look more often now, simply because it pleased you.

Karasu had always been a bit sulky when anyone dared to touch his hair, as if safeguarding his autonomy over it.

At that moment, he lay comfortably on his pillow, watching you with interest as you sat at his desk, engrossed in your homework for Science class. The room was quiet, save for the occasional sound of your pen scratching against the paper, and it was clear you were wrestling with the material, trying to catch up.

Sighing with a hint of boredom, you put your pen down and turned your gaze towards him. The sight of Karasu, with his dark purple hair spilling over the pillow, captivated you. His hair looked free and unrestrained, the soft strands framing his angular face. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight; he looked ethereal, almost like he belonged in a painting.

He caught your gaze and raised an eyebrow, a subtle hint of curiosity dancing in his eyes. “Ya? What do you want?” he asked, his tone betraying just a hint of playful skepticism.

You couldn’t suppress your smile as you responded, “You look so much better with your hair down, you know, Karasu?” You stood up from your chair and approached him, allowing yourself to appreciate the way his deep purple locks shone slightly in the soft light.

Karasu narrowed his eyes, regarding you with a mixture of suspicion and intrigue, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Compliments weren’t something he was used to receiving, especially not about his appearance.

A flicker of joy crossed his face, despite his best efforts to mask it. “Ya, I guess it looks good,” he replied, the defensive tone ill-fitting against the slight smile that crept onto his lips. It was clear that, deep down, he relished the attention you were giving him, even if he tried to play it off. The connection between you both felt alive in that moment, marked by unspoken feelings and newfound understanding.

Barou Shoei

Barou would certainly resonate with your thoughts on hairstyles. He finds a certain joy in allowing his hair to cascade freely, savoring the liberating feeling it provides. There’s an undeniable allure to the way it frames his face, giving him a relaxed yet striking appearance. However, in the heat of competition on the field, he often encounters frustration with the untamed strands, as they tend to become a distraction during intense moments of play.

Yet, despite these challenges, he holds a particular fondness for wearing his hair down. Much like Karasu, he embraces this style not just for himself, but because it brightens your day, bringing a genuine smile to your lips.

You found yourself at Barou's house, spending quality time with him and his family during the winter break. This rare respite was one of the few occasions he had off from BlueLock, allowing you to enjoy each other's company without the pressures of training or competition hanging over you.

As laughter filled the air downstairs, you could hear the chatter of everyone gathered around the television, engrossed in a family movie. Meanwhile, you and Barou's younger sisters occupied the cozy space upstairs, engrossed in a world of colorful Barbies. The room echoed with giggles and imaginative play, creating an atmosphere of pure joy.

After a while, Barou quietly made his way upstairs, having just spent some time washing out the hair wax he typically styled his hair with. You and his sisters were too caught up in your fun to notice him at first, until his younger sister caught sight of him and exclaimed, drawing your attention. You turned your head toward the doorway, and your breath caught in your throat for a moment. There stood Barou, framed by the doorway in an almost ethereal way, his hair cascading down in soft waves without any product weighing it down. The transformation was striking—his normally slicked-back style giving way to a more relaxed and natural look that accentuated the sharp angles of his face.

With a bright smile, you couldn't help but exclaim, "I’ve never seen you with your hair down; you should do it more often!" Your admiration was clear in your voice, genuine and infectious.

Barou, caught off guard by the compliment, flashed a teasing smirk, his cheeks slightly flushed. "Oh really?" he mumbled, clearly enjoying the attention.

His younger sister, ever the honest critic, piped up, looking between the two of you with a frown. "Seriously? I think he looks terrible like that!" she said, scrunching her nose in exaggerated disapproval, which only made you giggle more. The playful banter added warmth to the already delightful afternoon.

Shidou Ryusei

Shidou is someone who stands firmly in his beliefs, especially when it comes to his appearance. He is entirely dismissive of others' opinions regarding his hair; no matter what anyone says, he remains unshaken and unbothered. In fact, Shidou tends to be more easily annoyed than someone like Karasu, which often adds a playful tension to interactions.

During one of your conversations, you casually mention how much you prefer his hair down instead of styled up. He raises an eyebrow, a hint of irritation flickering across his face. “What do you mean you like my hair down more?” he replies, a mix of incredulity and an underlying challenge in his tone.

Once the discussion continues, your relentless insistence nudges him closer to submission. After some back-and-forth, he finally relents and agrees to wear his hair down more often, though he’s far too proud to openly admit he actually enjoys it. Instead, he will make cheeky, suggestive comments about your fascination with his hair when it's down, teasing you in a light-hearted manner, which only adds to the dynamic between you two.

Today marks a joyous milestone for both of you as you revel in your first anniversary at a vibrant arcade, a dazzling realm awash with colorful lights and the lively cacophony of games echoing all around. The atmosphere hums with excitement, each corner alive with laughter and the joyful shouts of fellow players. Shidou, who typically embraces a more reserved style, has taken a bold step today, styling his hair in a way that beautifully frames his face. The softer look is striking— a refreshing shift from his usual spiky, gelled hairstyle. He seems aware of the newfound charm, casting playful glances your way while a teasing smile flits across his lips. His eyes sparkle with an undeniable mischief, hinting that beneath his laid-back exterior, he’s secretly reveling in your attention.

As you glide through the arcade, your laughter rises above the clatter of tokens and the beeps of machines. There’s an exhilarating array of games just waiting to be conquered—everything from fast-paced basketball shootouts to delightful claw machines overflowing with plushies begging to be won. You and Shidou dive into the fun, playfully ribbing each other while erupting into fits of giggles. Each of his playful, yet comically unsuccessful attempts to snag one of those adorable plushies only makes you laugh harder. The way he misjudges the claw’s reach is a comedy show in itself, and each blunder seems to bring you closer together, weaving a tapestry of joyous moments that feel oh-so-precious.

As the day dances on, you find a cozy table amid the arcade chaos, the mouthwatering aroma from nearby food stalls both tempting and irresistible. With steaming plates brimming with deliciousness in front of you, the conversation flows like a river. You delve deep into discussions about your favorite movies and anime—when the name Jurassic Park pops up, Shidou nearly leaps from his seat, a broad grin lighting up his face. His enthusiasm is infectious as he passionately shares the brilliance behind the plot and his enduring love for dinosaurs, exclaiming how “cute” it is when they eat people. His insight is both amusing and concerning, but knowing Shidou, it feels right in its quirky way.

Amidst this delightful exchange, the subject shifts to hairstyles. You can’t hold back your curiosity and wonder out loud how he might look with his hair down. The suggestion takes him aback, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “My hair down? Y/N-chan, are you pulling my leg?” His teasing tone is underlined with genuine bewilderment, making you smile.

Quick to clarify, you reassure him, “It’s not that I dislike your hair up! I just think it’d be fun to see it down, that’s all.”

As your words hang in the air, Shidou blinks, his expression shifting from confusion to realization. “That makes more sense, Y/N-chan,” he finally responds, amusement sparkling in his eyes once more. “But I swear, I would have to tackle you if you said otherwise… just kidding~” His laughter is utterly infectious, wrapping around you like a warm embrace, and in that moment, the bond between you deepens even further, filled with warmth, humor, and a touch of mischief.

[ohsugar-honey-iced-tea]

Requesting a fic with soft Wanda who takes care of sick reader. Bonus if she gives R a whole bunch of forehead kisses, cuddles, and chicken noodle soup <3

-rémi

Pouts and kisses

Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

A/n: this is a request from my dearest friend @cthulhus-curse . I hope you will enjoy it as much as I did writing it. Thank you for being my friend and for helping me get back into writing ♡

Summary: where Wanda is trying to make you do the impossible

-------------------------------------------------------

It was a battle like nothing ever seen before. A battle no one wanted to have and was crucial to win.

And unfortunately, Wanda was losing it.

Pouts were thrown her way and heads were shaken no.

See, the thing is, you had gotten a nasty flu that just wouldn't go away. And whilst Wanda found you extremely adorable, she had also found out that it was the most frustrating thing to ever exist.

"Come on detka, you have to eat something..."

Wanda tried with all her mights as she tried to bring a spoon filled with her famous chicken noodle soup to your mouth.

You, however, were having none of it.

You were tired, feverish, dizzy and your throat was hurting. You were miserable and deep down you knew Wanda was trying to make you feel better but your cloudy judgement got the better of you.

You moved away from the bite of soup, pouting so hard Wanda would think it hurt. You quickly hid underneath your warm Bluey blankie Wanda got you a few years ago, hiding from all the agony you were in.

Defeated, Wanda sighed and put away the spoon. She had tried everything, what could she do anymore?

"You know, my sweetheart... sick ones only get their kisses if they eat well"

This got your attention. There is only one thing you wanted the most, and that was Wanda's kisses. Slowly your head came out of your hoodie, making direct eye contact with Wanda.

"I'll tell you what... for every bite of soup, you will get one kiss"

You thought deeply. Eating anything was the last thing you wanted right now, but it would earn you Wanda's kisses.

"I suppose we could start with one bite"

Wanda smiled to herself, feeling pleased with her little victory.

"That's my good girl. Now, open up..."

You opened your mouth and allowed Wanda to place the spoon filled with soup in your mouth.

You let out a soft moan as all the tastes came over you. Rich and filled, with a hint of paprikash, reminding you of the first time Wanda teached you how to make it. All your favorite vegetables inside it and noodles in the shape of little hearts.

It tasted like home.

You opened your eyes, a small twinkle in your red and puddy eyes. You saw Wanda smile at you and you knew there and then you wanted this woman to be right next to you every day for the rest of your life.

"There! One bite down, and..."

Wanda leaned in, and as you were getting ready to get yourself a kiss, you felt Wanda's lips on your forehead. Pouting again, you pulled away.

"Hey, that's not fair'

Wanda chuckled, putting the spoon back in the bowl to get another bite ready for you.

"Now, don't make me wait, little one, open up"

Slightly grumpy still, you opened your mouth for yet another bite. After this bite you felt your insides slowly warm because of the soup.

Before you could say anything else you felt Wanda's lips on the tip of your nose.

"Mwah! Boop!"

You were officially getting cranky now. You were promised a kiss, a GOOD kiss, and you didn't get it yet.

"Now listen here-"

You were quickly given another bite, and a big kiss on your lips followed.

You were blown away by the feeling of Wanda's lips on yours. All of your worries and troubles melted away as all your foggy mind could register was Wanda. Before you even had the chance to deepen the kiss, Wanda pulled away.

"Hey..."

You wanted to protest more, but Wanda's kiss left you feeling weak.

"My dear sweet little one... we still have a whole bowl to finish!"

After finishing the bowl of soup and even some strawberries (cut in the shape of a heart, or you didn't want them), you were finally filled with some decent food and vitamins. Wanda even managed to get you to take some medicine to get the fever down.

As you were about to fall into slumber, Wanda gently lifted you up. Seeing your tired but confused look, Wanda giggled softly.

"Let me get you all nice and clean, my love"

As the bath was filling with warm water, Wanda took her time undressing you. When the water was ready, she led you into the bath. You tried to protest, wanting Wanda to join you, but Wanda silenced your small protests with another kiss.

"Soon, my beautiful girl, let me take care of you, please"

40 minutes later, you were bathed, in a clean set of pajamas (Wanda's, to be exact, as you kept asking for them as they gave you comfort) and in Wanda's arms.

Wanda saw you struggling to keep your eyes open. As much as it warmed her heart, she knew you needed your rest.

"Sleep, my detka, you need your rest. I will be here when you wake up"

With that you were asleep in minutes. Wands looked at you, and realised how lucky she was.

Sure, you always seemed so confident and strong in front of others, but with her, you allowed yourself to let your guard down. And if that meant for Wanda to take care of you when a nasty flu declares a battle, Wanda was all too happy about it.

Taking a few more looks at you, Wanda decided to get some rest as well. She should be, as she was planning to officially ask you to be her wife as soon as you were better.

-------------------------------------------------------

Let me know if you want to be added to the Wanda taglist! If you have any requests, send them! Reblogs are much appreciated :)

Taglist: @wandanats-goodgirl

[diaper-fetiswing]

🔞⚠️ Ultra-detailed diaper training guide :

the goal: to become permanently dependent on diapers forever.

here are the headlines from my training plan

I) 🧠 MENTAL PREPARATION : (Acceptance, letting go, submission)

Before you start diaper training, it is crucial that you accept your kink, eliminate all guilt and let go.

1.1 / Accepting Your kink :

understands that your attraction to diapers is legitimate and personal. It’s not “bad” or “abnormal”.

identifies your mental blocks: shame, fear of judgment, self-sabotage

repeat positive affirmations to yourself: “I deserve to be in a diaper / diapers are my true nature”

find support like my blog, ( so if you link to that you can subscribe because my blog will allow you to achieve your goal, that's the goal )

1.2 / Letting go and submission :

wearing diapers all the time is mostly mental... people often come to me and say: "I want to be incontinent to be dependent" except that this is false and unhealthy... mentally, you have to accept that diapers are is your new reality (and it's a lot of work that takes time but once done is even less reversible than incontinence, but don't worry I'm here to help you)

abandon the idea of ​​choice, it is not a choice... in fact you have the impression that it is a choice, but if you dig into your psychological functioning you will understand that it is a need...

practice submission, (well self-discipline if you are alone): in a relationship, if your wife is dominant and Ok, you're lucky it will be easier for you, but my advice also applies to single, except that instead of someone else dominating you, it's you who must discipline yourself. There must be strict rules, with punishments if you don't follow your diaper training correctly. I'll leave the creativity to you for the punishments but they don't have to be very pleasant.

II) 🕰 PERMANENT WEARING OF DIAPERS :

objective : no longer wear underwear apart from diapers + (it's better but you don't have to) no longer see the toilet as an option.

🗓 ACTION PLAN :

✅️ throw ALL your underwear in the trash, only keep the diapers

✅️ put a diaper on after each time you change (it seems logical, but some times you will be tempted not to wear one again, so always wear a diaper, it's your rule and it's easy to follow)

✅️ always sleep in a diaper

✅️ organize your stocks: you must always have a huge stock of diapers at home...

✅️ (even without aiming for incontinence, I recommend it): prepare yourself mentally: “the toilet is no longer an option for me”

Solution for difficulties :

❌️ WANT TO REMOVE THE DIAPER: you can make your diaper difficult to remove (like by putting velcro on the fasteners)

❌️ SHAME OR DISCOMFORT: remember that you need diapers, that they are necessary.

III ) [💦💩] RE-EDUCATE YOUR BODY FOR INCONTINENCE :

I DO NOT RECOMMEND THIS STEP, INCONTINENCE IS A HANDICAP IT IS NOT A GAME, I RATHER RECOMMEND LEARNING TO OWN YOUR NEEDS IN YOUR DIAPERS WITHOUT INCONTINENCE, but for those who really have the need to become incontinent here is the tutorial:

objective: to learn to remember and automate the use of the diaper.

3.1 / Urinary: loss of control :

🗓 💦 ACTION PLAN :

✅️ Drink plenty of water to force frequent elimination

✅️ as soon as you feel pressure released immediately: NEVER HOLD BACK

✅️ practice urinating in all positions, including lying down, to break the reflexes of holding back

✅️ at night drink before sleeping and urinate as soon as you wake up.

3.2 / FECAL : if I had to choose I would prefer this

🗓💩 ACTION PLAN :

✅️ eat foods rich in fiber, take mild laxatives from time to time to relax your intestines (don't overdo it)

✅️ as soon as you feel the urge, push yourself directly into your diaper without going to the bathroom, even if it's just for a fart

✅️ get used to never delaying elimination

✅️ uses plugs that stretch the anus daily for long periods, such as the balloon plug or the hollow plug, do daily sessions of 4 to 5 hours dilated.

IV ) 👥️ TOTAL DEPENDENCE ON DIAPERS SOCIALY :

the social aspect is quite important, to really sign your life forever it is important to take this point into account. the social and public part alone deserves an entire book... besides, I would love to write a book on learning about diapers... but that's for the future!

here are my tips for the social aspect:

✅️ accept the outside gaze: if someone guesses or sees your diaper, accept it or ignore it

✅️ expose yourself little by little: outings with a diaper more or less visible under your clothes:

✅️ you can tell a certain person you really trust that you are now in a diaper and that it is forever (without explaining why) and if someone asks you questions then you tell them that you need one and you can't do otherwise...

V) 🪷 CONCLUSION :

SO, as I say these are just certain points of my plan to address in diaper training in order to become completely dependent on diapers.

If you want to go deeper into certain steps, let me know in the questions!

[pochaccoups]

achilles’ heel — choi seungcheol

pairing — choi seungcheol x fem!reader

summary — after a knee surgery, your boyfriend feels off about his body. you’re determined to show him just how much you love it.

wc — 3.1k

warnings — nsfw content. minors dni. smut, established relationship, light angst, fluff, body insecurity, body worship, petnames (baby, pretty girl), oral sex (m receiving), creampie

author’s note — hi i still think about when cheol said in a live that he wears big hoodies bc he’s insecure of his body and im still upset because i need him to know that he makes couprangs (ME) feel insane over his body that’s sooo big and strong ok enjoy

Something is bothering Seungcheol.

You’ve been with your boyfriend long enough to reasonably suspect when there’s something on his mind, and while he’s gotten relatively good at putting on a front to his members, it’s a little harder for him to conceal his thoughts from you. You, who’s ever observant and aware of his habits. You, who, when Seungcheol is sick with something even if non-contagious, somehow coincidentally feel the same symptoms. You, who is practically empathetically connected with him.

It’s not hard to notice that he’s been distant, though. Ever since he’d been able to walk again after his surgery, he’s had a weird edge to him that was never there before, like a rescue dog with trust issues. 

By no means had he become neglectful to you. Not once had he stopped treating you like you were his entire world, but it was all in the way his hugs weren’t as tight as usual. He insisted he didn’t need help with things like showering or dressing anymore—which was fair since he could walk now, but when you’d asked if he wanted to join you in the shower, suddenly he was too tired. Once upon a time you couldn’t even finish the question before he was stripped naked and next to you. 

You don’t remember the last time you’d been intimate with him. The moment your lips would make their way to his neck after a soft makeout, he’d ease you away from him, gently confessing that he just wasn’t in the mood, that he was just too tired again. 

And that’s fine with you—you’d die before disrespecting the boundaries which are so crucial to your relationship. You did miss him though, and deep down, something in your heart had told you that, along with everything else, something was not right.

You’re curled into his side one night when you find the courage to confront him.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

Your suspicions are confirmed the moment his chest stiffens under your cheek. 

“I know… Why?” he asks, hesitant, as though he’s walking on eggshells.

“I feel like you’ve been acting, I don’t know, off. I’m worried about you, Cheollie,” you admit, poking your finger into his torso. 

Three of his breaths, full of contemplation, fill the air before he speaks again. 

“It’s my body,” he says. “I don’t like how much bigger I’ve gotten.”

You bolt upright, staring dead into his eyes with daggers in yours.

“That’s why you’ve been so squirmish?”

He nods his head, pouting absentmindedly, then continues. “I’ve just felt… gross.”

It takes everything in you not to smack him across the face. Your hands ball into fists, your face growing hot as rage bubbles and stirs beneath your skin. You climb on top of him, trapping his waist between your thighs as you sit upon him.

“Choi Seungcheol, you’re so stupid.” There’s an air of affection in your words, but you hope they’re stern enough to get through to him.

He groans as he hides his face in the fabric of his hoodie. “This is why I didn’t tell you.”

“Because you knew it was stupid? Cheol, you were in rehab recovering from surgery. You literally couldn’t walk for weeks. Besides, you’re acting like it’s a bad thing that you’ve gotten ‘bigger’,” you say, fingers wrapping around his wrists so you can pull his hands away from his face. “Do you know how feral you’ve been making me feel recently?”

“Feral?!” he says, eyes widening as he fails to stifle an adorable giggle.

“Your shoulders are so broad now and it drives me fucking crazy,” you say, falling into a fit of your own laughter because the sound of your boyfriend’s laugh is more contagious than any sickness. 

Lacing your fingers with his, your expression hardens. In the rich brown of his eyes, his insecurity finally rears itself to you—and you’re determined to destroy every last shred of it.

“Love everything about your body, Cheol. Love when you cuddle me and hug me with your big arms, makes me feel so safe,” you confess, your smile radiating warmth. Your fingers squeeze his ones.

“Love how you can carry me around, on your back, in your arms…” You let go of his hands to flatten your palms against his stomach, smoothing up his torso slowly. His own hands, eager to never be empty, find your hips, his fingers pinching softly at you through your leggings.

“Love your thick thighs, love sitting in your lap…” You’ve reached his chest now and Seungcheol is smirking — he’s well aware of your obsession with this part of him. 

“Love when you throw me around, manhandle me like a ragdoll, pin me down…” You’re grasping at his shoulders now, leaning forward until there’s hardly an inch between your faces.

“Love when you spank me…” 

It’s then that something in Seungcheol shifts. His pants grow tighter, his hips shifting underneath you as you straddle him. He likes to think he’s a man of self-control, even when it comes to your antics. But there are times where he abandons all discipline — right now, his head is cloudy because he hasn’t let you touch him in weeks.

“You’ve been depriving me of cock all this time because you’ve been eating too good?” you say, scoffing as you reach for the hem of Seungcheol’s hoodie to tug at it. You pause, glancing at him for approval. Still with a dash of hesitation he sits up, helping you shrug it over his head, exposing himself to you.

“Don’t get too bratty, I can keep depriving you,” he retorts, but it’s playful. 

It’s like your first time with him all over again. All you’d gotten over the past few weeks were glimpses of his bare skin, a peek as he came out of the shower or changed or when his shirt lifted up as he stretched. He’s always been a little modest, but never to this extent. 

The sight of his bare form knocks every last breath from your lungs. He’s always been beautiful—strong and dependable, now even more so. His body has always given you the urge to get on your knees and worship and pray to him like the Greeks did, now it feels as though you were born to do just that. 

Then there’s a pang of violence, too, because he hasn’t even changed that drastically. He’s a little softer in his tummy, his arms a little thicker, but that’s all, really. It’s definitely not something for him to have been hiding out of disgust. Of course, it’s not all too difficult to deduce why he felt it necessary to do it—he’s an idol. It’s his job to look picturesque and perfect and flawless. His mind is bound to become mean, to turn to cruel lies of not being good enough.

Your lips leave a trail along his skin, from his collarbones, to his chest, and down his abdomen. Your hope is that each kiss will help chase away Seungcheol’s every last insecurity. It’s naive of you, perhaps, because it will take a lot more than just this to unravel what he has convinced himself of. At the very least, it’s a start.

You paw at the band of his sweats, lips hovering below his belly button as you glance up at him.

“Can I take them off?”

A nervous pause. Then, “do it,” he says, sighing softly. 

And then you’re pulling them down his legs, down his thick, hard thighs—the ones made for you to sit on. 

His boxers come next, but not before you ask for his explicit permission again. More than ever, you’re utterly dedicated to his comfort. 

It’s instinct how your hand reaches for his cock, heavy as your fingers wrap around it and so thick that your fingertips don’t even touch. The sight of it which you’ve missed so much, pretty, pink, and veiny, has you drooling already, your teeth baring down on your bottom lip. You’re aching between your legs. 

You need him inside you or you might die.

Seungcheol’s eyes sparkle as he watches your lips leave wet kisses along his length, pecking along the veins as you make your way up, then spoiling his tip with sweet smooches and kitten licks in between.

“Missed you, Cheol,” you tell him, breathy and tender.

“I know,” he says, then you take his cock past your lips and he hisses as the warmth of your mouth greets him. 

He doesn’t realise how much he’s missed this, missed you, until his tip bumps the back of your throat and you’re choking around him despite not even having half of him in your mouth yet. His hand flies to grab a fistful of your hair, still managing to treat you gently as he pulls you back.

“Easy, pretty girl,” he pleads, the rasp in his voice instilling within you an urge to listen. His effect on you is trance-like, his honeyed voice irresistible. 

You blink up at him, batting your tear-brimmed lashes at him, knowing how it makes his heart swell. You take him slowly this time, one hand stroking at his base so that no inch of him is left untouched, and you swallow him little by little. 

Seungcheol lets out a low groan, a gorgeous sound that makes the world spin around you. It rushes straight to your core, burning through you, turning you hungrier, greedier.

You can’t help but slip one of your hands down between your thighs, sliding your fingers between your folds which you find practically dripping. Your fingertips dance over your clit, circling it softly before you dip two of your digits inside to feed the insatiable flame that burns in your core. 

“Fuck, baby,” Seungcheol groans, catching sight of the way your fingers pump in and out of your dripping hole. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

He doesn’t need to tell you—his cock twitches in your mouth as he speaks. 

The sheer size and thickness of your boyfriend’s length always proves challenging for you, but the heat emanating from deep within your core begs for you to spoil him—because his pleasure is equally yours—and has you burying him all the way down your throat in spite of the tears that spring to your eyes and the clench of your oesophagus around him. 

And the thing about Seungcheol is that his mere existence is enough to toss you out of your mind, to make you throw all morals out the window until you’re no better than a cat in heat.

He lets out a noise that’s part-laugh and part-moan as your nose nuzzles against the wiry hairs of his happy trail, never failing to be caught off guard by your eagerness even after years of being your lover. His hand settles on your cheek, at the corner of your lips that are stretched around his girth, his thumb drawing soft strokes on your skin.

“I said go easy,” he says, voice strained, but he chuckles amusedly through his words.

You bob your head back up, popping off of him briefly. Webs of glimmering spit connect your lips with his cock, and Seungcheol thinks you’ve never looked prettier. He can’t help but brush his thumb over your swollen lips while his eyes drink you in with a tender gleam. 

“Can’t help myself,” you reply, smiling coyly, then the next moment you’re back on him again, swirling your tongue around his tip.

You pull your fingers from your pussy momentarily to drag your nails along his thighs, so thick and heavy with muscle that you’re certain when you sink them into his skin he feels no more than a soft scratch. It helps when you swallow him whole again, helps keep your tears at bay just a little, helps the muscles of your throat relax so that you can bob your head up and down his length the way both you and him like it.

You don’t go too fast lest he pulls you away for ignoring his pleas, but there’s also no need for you to go too fast. Yes, you’ve missed him, missed having him like this, missed touching him, but right now that’s not what you’re concerned about. All that spurs you on is the want —the need—to make Seungcheol feel as desirable as he is to you. 

So you take him steadily, at a pace that’s enough to get him worked up and simultaneously lets your affection drip from every drag of your mouth along his length, lets you taste every inch of him and every drop of his salty precum. Your soft moans muffled by his cock merge with his ones, breathy and whiny, broken up by praises and light mewls of your name. 

One of your hands moves between your legs again, squelching as your fingers enter your throbbing cunt once more.

You refuse to break your eyes away from his, as though averting your gaze from him even for a second would mean he would vanish before you. It’s also Seungcheol’s Achilles’ heel—look into his eyes and he doesn’t stand a chance against you. 

You could predict the way curses start spilling from his lips and the way his cock starts to throb lightly in your mouth and the way his hips start to buck every time his tip reaches the back of your throat. When it comes to you, he’s weak and he will never hide it.

“Baby, I’m close,” he says, a near whisper. 

His confession prompts you to pull your mouth off of him and he whimpers, pouting shamelessly like a kicked puppy. Some alpha leader. 

“You’re really teasing me right now?” 

“Cheollie… You’ve been ignoring me for weeks and you think I’d just let you cum like that?” you say, but your voice is full of playfulness. You want to make up for the affection you haven’t been able to give him for so long, yet a part of you wants to get back at him a little. 

“I’ll remember this,” he grins.

“I know you will,” you tell him as you clamber up his legs until you’re straddling his waist, bending forward to press a chaste kiss to his mouth and pouting at him. “What if I want you to finish inside me though?”

“Then let me prep you first,” he insists, giant hands finding your hips and drawing circles with his thumbs. He’s about to flip you over onto your back, but you shake your head and press a hand to his chest to keep him still. 

“I’ve already prepped myself, Cheollie, you wanna taste?” 

Before he can bicker back, you push your soaked fingers between his lips and into his mouth, and he sucks them subconsciously, lapping up every last drop of your arousal with a moan.

When his mouth is free of your fingers, he smiles.

“I still wanna touch you,” he rasps, resolute.

You lean over him until your mouth is on his again, but this time your lips slide sloppily against one anothers’ from the mess of saliva and cum that drips from them. Your hands travel up his torso, palms smoothing over his bare flesh, but touching him is not enough. 

“I wanna take care of you, Seungcheol, so please just let me,” you whisper against his lips, grinding your hips over his cock where it lays against his abdomen. 

“Okay, okay,” he surrenders, sighing as your lips drop down to his neck and nip at his tender skin there. “But I’m eating you out for at least two hours next time.”

You perk back up to shoot him an unamused look, in spite of the fact that it’s really a win-win situation for you. You just hate that there’s no budging your boyfriend’s stubbornness. 

“I love you,” he says, lips curling into a ghost of a smirk.

And here is your Achilles heel, because you’re just a girl, after all. A girl not immune to her breathtaking lover’s sweet words, whose heart sways at his whispers of affection to her—to only her. 

Warmth floods your veins. The need to be one with him becomes urgent. 

Grasping onto Seungcheol’s broad shoulders, you sink down upon him, inch by inch until he’s bottomed out inside you and your moans of relief are perfectly in sync. He grips your hips so hard they’ll probably bruise, no doubt having become unused to how sweetly your warm walls envelop his cock like a hug. Meanwhile you’ve forgotten how his dick, in all its thickness, is capable of punching the air from your lungs.

Still, there’s no hesitation in the way you start to bounce your hips on him and it’s not long before the burning stretch fizzles into a glowing pleasure in the pit of your stomach. 

When you’re above him like this, you’re able to take in the sight of all of him. His biceps, bulky and thick, his shoulders, sturdy and broad. Every inch of him is so perfect that you wonder how he’s all yours. You hate to think about how he could have possibly felt disgusted by himself. If he wasn’t already yours in real life, he would be in your dreams, exactly as he is as he lays beneath you. 

It’s overwhelming. Feeling him again after so many weeks, the way his cock drives into you so deliciously, his sculpture-like body—you’re not sure what does it, probably a mixture of everything, but before you know it your pussy is clamping down on him and your entire body quivers with a wave of

“Fuck, I’m cumming too, baby, I’m right with you,” he utters, staring at you as if you descended straight from Heaven.

“No,” you say, and your hips halt their bouncing, yet your fingers are still toying with your clit as you recover from your orgasm. 

Seungcheol whines at the cruelty of it.

“Not until you agree this body is sexy,” you say, teasing, grinding your hips painfully slowly along his cock—certainly not enough to keep up any kind of stimulation.

He gives a pained, exasperated laugh, and thinks fuck, he’s in love with you. He’s not sure what he’s done, maybe saved a life or two in a past life, but even that seems like it’s not enough for him to deserve you. 

The way your walls squeeze down on his cock makes his head spin. If he doesn’t cum soon he thinks he might die.

“It is, okay? I love this body. Now please, please, keep going,” he blurts out, stroking his hands up and down your thighs sweetly, pouting up at you so irresistibly.

“Say it’s sexy.”

He whines again, painfully desperate. His voice breaks when he repeats your words; “my body is sexy.”

You smile like a little minx when you start to bounce up and down him again, even harder this time. Seungcheol moans, such a gorgeous sound, and before long he’s grasping at your waist and pulling you flush against him as his cock throbs and he fills you up with spurts of his warm seed.

As he comes back down with heavy breaths, you pepper his neck and jawline with saccharine kisses. 

“I love you,” you say, relishing in the weight and warmth of his strong arms wrapped around your nude body, in the feeling of his soft yet firm torso that’s one with your own. “You’re perfect to me.”

[verstappenf1lecccc]

Toto Wolff with wife reader. Feat their son, Jack. She had some sort of trouble breathing but didn't want to alarm Toto or anyone else. Because they're busy preparing for the races. Even other drivers & WAGs ask her if she's alright. Ask me if you want more insight. Thanks!! :)) With prompts :

1)"My chest really... hurts..."

2)"I can't really breathe -"

3)"Don't you dare pass out on me."

4)"Careful you don't fall - gotcha!"

You can choose how many you want to use.

You can choose how many you want to use

Ps : from p✌🏻

“Breathless”

i will always write p’s requests first! hope you like it p

The sun had barely risen over the Silverstone circuit, casting a golden glow across the track as cars roared to life in the distance. It was race day, the culmination of months of tireless effort, strategies, and sacrifices. Every member of the Mercedes team, from the engineers to the drivers to the WAGs, was on edge. But it was a different kind of nervousness for you, the wife of Toto Wolff.

Toto was deep in his preparations, leading the team as always, focused and composed. He had the weight of the world on his shoulders as the team’s success and his drivers’ performance depended on the decisions made in those crucial final moments before the race. But you… you were struggling, and he had no idea.

As the day progressed, the increasing pressure of the crowd and the weight of the upcoming race only made it harder for you to breathe. It started off small—just a bit of tightness in your chest—but over time it became harder to ignore. The subtle discomfort bloomed into something much worse, sharp pangs slicing through your ribcage, leaving you gasping for air. You found it harder to breathe, each inhale feeling like you were suffocating, but you refused to let it show. You couldn’t. Not now. Not when Toto had so much to focus on. He couldn’t know.

You sat quietly in the hospitality area, surrounded by the other wives and girlfriends of the drivers, but you barely heard their chatter over the pounding in your ears. You could feel their concerned glances on you, but you forced a smile, clutching your chest and taking slow, shallow breaths, praying it would pass. The last thing you wanted was to be a distraction.

As you sipped your water, Jack, your young son, came over to you, his little face full of concern.

“Mommy, are you okay?” Jack asked, his innocent voice bringing warmth to your heart, even though your chest burned with every passing second.

You forced a smile, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Just a little tired, that’s all.”

Jack seemed to buy it, but the others weren’t so easily fooled.

One of the other drivers’ wives, Sophie, leaned in, her face etched with worry. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked gently. “You don’t look well.”

You nodded quickly, trying to mask the pain behind a veil of reassurance. “I’m fine, just… just a bit lightheaded. Nothing to worry about.”

But Sophie didn’t seem convinced. She glanced at you, and you could tell she wanted to say more, but she was interrupted by the loud rumble of an engine firing up on the track.

The tightness in your chest worsened, and you pressed a hand to your ribs, trying to steady your breathing. But it felt impossible. You were suffocating, and the air just wasn’t enough.

You stood up abruptly, trying to mask your discomfort by pretending to stretch. But it only made things worse. Your vision blurred, the edges of the world fading as you tried to push through it. Your breaths became shallow, faster, more frantic. A cold sweat broke out on your forehead, and you stumbled forward, nearly collapsing into the arms of another WAG, who immediately caught you.

“Okay, that’s it,” Sophie said, her voice now filled with urgency. “You’re not fine. Let me get help.”

You shook your head weakly, panic rising in your chest, but you couldn’t argue anymore. Everything was spiraling out of control.

Meanwhile, Toto was deep in a team meeting, his mind on the race, on the strategy, on the stakes ahead. He was so close to achieving his dream for the season, but in the back of his mind, he always made sure to check in on you. Even now, he felt a strange unease tug at him, but he brushed it off. The day was too important.

But then, the call came.

“Toto, it’s your wife. You need to come now,” Sophie said, her voice thick with panic.

His heart stopped, a sinking feeling dropping to the pit of his stomach. He bolted from the room, his legs carrying him faster than he ever thought possible. He had no idea what was happening, but the tone in Sophie’s voice was enough to make his blood run cold.

When he arrived at the hospitality suite, the sight of you, pale and struggling for air, made his chest tighten in an instant. You were leaning against a table, breathing erratically, your hand clutching at your ribs as though you were trying to hold yourself together.

“Toto,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out. “I’m sorry… I didn’t want to worry you…”

Toto’s face went ashen, his eyes wide with fear. “Don’t you dare pass out on me,” he growled, kneeling beside you, gripping your shoulders with a desperation you’d never seen from him before. “Please… just breathe, breathe with me.”

You gasped for air, but it was no use. Your chest constricted even more, the pain unbearable. A cold sweat drenched your skin, and you felt like you were slipping away. You couldn’t breathe.

Toto’s voice broke through the fog of panic, his hands shaking as he pressed you against his chest. “Stay with me, love. Stay with me. I can’t lose you.”

The next few moments were a blur. Paramedics rushed in, lifting you onto a stretcher and into the ambulance, Toto never leaving your side. He was frantic now, a man out of control, his mind racing with fear as he clutched your hand, whispering reassurances he didn’t believe himself. He was terrified.

In the ambulance, the oxygen mask was placed over your face, but the damage had been done. Your heart, strained under the pressure, had given out. You had suffered a heart attack—an event that felt so sudden, so unexpected. The pain, the tightness, the feeling of being trapped in your own body—it all made sense now. But the fear in Toto’s eyes, the way he cried quietly while holding your hand, that was something you couldn’t have prepared for.

“I need you, please,” Toto muttered, his voice raw with emotion. “I can’t do this without you.”

You fought for consciousness, focusing on the steady rise and fall of the oxygen as it filled your lungs. Slowly, the tightness eased, and you managed to open your eyes. The first thing you saw was Toto, his face streaked with tears, his expression torn apart with anguish. And then you saw Jack, standing beside him, his little hands clutching his father’s pant leg, looking up at you with eyes wide in fear.

You squeezed Toto’s hand weakly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m okay… I’m here.”

Toto’s entire body shuddered as he breathed in, the relief on his face immediate, but his hands remained tight around yours. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered, tears welling up in your own eyes now. “I didn’t want you to worry. I just… I didn’t want to be a distraction. Not today.”

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, his voice low and full of emotion. “You are my world, you are my priority. Everything else can wait. Don’t you ever try to protect me from your pain again. I can’t lose you.”

Toto’s words, raw and vulnerable, tore through you. You had been so determined to stay strong for him, for Jack, for the team. But now, in this moment, you realized that the only thing that mattered was the people you loved.

And you were going to fight for them.

Fight for your life. Because Toto Wolff couldn’t lose his family.

And neither could you.

@pear-1206

[rayroseu]

You know what's sick as hell about the design of the Briar Senates??? It's that their design mirrors the weapon of the Draconias 😭✨

I know they're getting flak rn bcs they feel like "boomers who's against any progress because they value toxic tradition" but i don't really think they're like... entirely evil lol or the root of every bad thing that happened in Malleus'/Lilia's life (though im side eyeing them as one of the perpetrators still lol)

Tbh, removing them would also cause more harm (just some social issues inside the fae society tbh) than good imo, (I know many ppl say this bcs they think removing the Senates would make it possible for the peace between human and faes, but the thing is, the Senates aren't the only group that thinks this way, almost the entirety of Briar Valley does lol so forcibly removing them now would only come off as "Malleus forcing "human ideals" on the faes just because he has spent 4 years with the humans"(plus is the understanding between humans and faes truly achieved if you try to silence one group(even if that group is kinda disagreeable with anything human related lol), plus realistically the faes would trust their fellow faes first rather than some humans,

so for me, Briar Senates doesn't give off the vibe of toxic old people who drags others down in their toxic practices (while that can be an accurate description i feel like it generalizes too much about their behaviour), rather than that, Briar Senates feels more like thorns, like thorns that surrounds Briar Valley, they're not exactly harmful unless you go against them, but ultimately they're still protection for Briar Valley.

Which makes it fitting that their design has a similarity with the Draconia's weapon, they're the thorns that protects the Draconias, even if it means sheltering them.

And, tbh, if the Senates other job is to ensure Draconias lives, they're kinda doing a "decent job"??? If we can assume through Maleficia's (and Malleus' case), since we didnt hear about her leaving the Senate's side, she managed to survive for so long, unlike Meleanor😭 Also could explain why they're so enraged when Lilia arrived with the news that Meleanor died and why they hated the weak bcs what would weakness could protect JJDSJD Kinda wish their hatred against Lilia wasnt that he was a weak bat fae, but rather they doubled down on the fact he failed protecting Meleanor, imagine if Gen. Lilia wasnt as great in magic as the fae nobles were, yet he still managed to earn a position beside the Princess, all that hard work only to fail at the most crucial time, it wouldve make sense in the Senates' side to say, "Meleanor shouldnt have appointed him" (because "he's weak from the start")

oh additionally, this is just my assumption, bcs I felt like the way the Senates recoiled when Lilia hatched the egg was kinda... random?? so this is my made up reason lol Remember, the Senates were adamant that Maleficia should only be the one to hatch the egg because she's a Draconia, but Lilia did it and he's not a Draconia, What if because Lilia hatched the egg, it also affected the development of Malleus?? Like maybe for instance, it affected Malleus' lifespan, maybe he still lives more than one thousand years but he won't live for another thousand years like a pure Draconia because he's been hatched by Lilia as opposed to who they wanted it to be, which is Maleficia, OF COURSE Lilia hatching the egg is heaps better than Malleus dying before being born, but this is just my auto thoughts regarding the random hate reaction the Senates did when Lilia hatched Malleus lol

Interestingly, the placement of the stone of Draconia against the thorns (of the Senates) can also be hinted at their relationship with them??? In Meleanor's case, her stone is on top of the thorns, which may indicate that she's not under the Senate's commands or that its just telling she just lived distantly from the Senates, most importantly her stone is bigger than the thorns which may tell the fact that the Senates worships her because she's powerful and greater than them, and she's not someone who can be trapped/ordered around within the Senates. But, tragically, in Malleus' case, his stone is under the thorns, like its telling that he's under the Senates protection at all cost and his stone is little compared to Meleanor's because he's still young.

I also have a theory that the Senates are part of Briar Valley's land, like its been canonically said that they're the dead faes of Briarland, which makes think that their death is similar to the death of Conall from Maleficent 2, when Conall was buried, his body literally morphed to the land, which makes me think this is how the Senates used to be buried, when they die, they become one with the land, that's why you can't just remove them, when they are literally the Lands of Briar Valley,,,, get it lol

Though this is making me think that if this is the case then Maleficia's city,,, if the Senate's presence are the strongest there bcs that's where they're nearly buried, does that mean around Black Scale Castle is just lowkey a graveyard.... Is that why Halloween is special for Briar Valley bcs they have close ties/respect for the dead and Halloween is essentially about honoring the dead 😭✨

Off topic, but maybe the thorns part of the Draconia's staff may also tell about their age. Notice how Meleanor's staff has 3 twists which may tell that she's atleast 300~ years old, (if each twists signifies a century), while Malleus' staff only has one twist on its thorns which is accurate considering he's only 178 years old (one century).

If this is true, I'm kinda curious about Maleficia's staff... does that mean hers will be convered in thorns (she needs at least 7 twists (7 centuries~ and more) there on her staff 😭✨)