#and he never wants to lose what he gains...which makes things difficult as one could imagine

[kooggukk]

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 BEYOND THE JOB // JJK

daddy jungkook (literally)

; babysitting the cutest angel on earth is the perfect job. (except when her father is fucking hot and wants all of you)

— 1/??

“seriously though, you have to fuckin’ quit that job already.”

Sasha, who happens to be your best friend ever since you started working at the local elementary school, just lectured you again. she was already teaching there when you arrived, you spent your lunch breaks with her and even be each other’s substitute sometimes.

surprisingly, she quit a few months after that. you stayed close though. at first, she was dying to know the drama happening among the teaching staff, but as shit kept going down which included you and the principal, all you ever hear from her is that you need to quit.

it wasn’t a huge surprise to her when you first told her your boss, aka the school’s principal, asked you out. it was weird, but everyone knew he was.. a little desperate. he had asked most of the female teachers out, some who agreed could only say bad things about the experience.

you declined his offer politely, explaining that you don’t want your personal life to mix with your job. it was awkward after that, but turns out he seems to be the dumbest person on earth. he asked you out two weeks after that, again.

still to this day, he keeps asking you out over and over and you keep rejecting him over and over again. sure, he got a lil’ crush on you, sweet, right? fuck no. he’s a pervert, doesn’t know what personal space is.

“but i need the money. i don’t know where else i could get such good salary.” you told her, for the nth time.

“be a stripper,” Sasha casually said, sipping on her diet coke while your eyes widened.

“don’t say nonsense, dafuq..” you both shared a giggle, but you definitely won’t put that job idea on the bottom of your list. maybe in the middle, or top 5. if you really can’t find a good place, then gotta be top 3.

“you could be one until you save enough money, then look for a less crazy one.”

“there’s never enough money, sasha.” you sighed, fuck inflation. when you grew up and finished studying, you realized the hardest part of being an adult was money. it’s crazy how difficult it is to make a living.

“if you don’t give in your quitting notice tomorrow, i’m gonna do it for you instead.” she narrowed her eyes at you.

“i don’t want to make a decision too quick. not until i know i can find another job.”

“quit.”

“no.”

“quit.”

“no.”

“quit.”

…

“okay.”

she squealed in her chair, gaining some attention on the two of you.

“if you dare to lie to me right now, i’m gonna make you eat your own shit.”

you kicked her under the table, sending her a glare. “behave, bitch.”

┈ ⪩⪨   ┈

“oh, __! what brings you here today?” your boss, sehun immediately stood up from his chair, ready to greet you with a hug.

panicking, you reached your hand out with a paper, catching his attention. “this is..?”

“my resignation notice, sir.”

“your what?”

he took the paper from your grip, examining it carefully. his eyebrows fell together, eyes scanning every single word.

he backed up, resting on the edge of his table. he looked at the paper again, rereading the first sentence.

‘Kindly accept this letter as my formal resignation…’

“are you sure, __?” he asked, putting the paper on his table. he crossed his arms, frustration written on his face.

you fixed your hair, giving him a firm nod. “yeah, i’ve been thinking of it for a while now.”

“i’m glad i could be a part of this amazing team, but i just feel like,” you struggled to find the words, obviously you didn’t want to tell in his face.

‘aye bruh, stop bein’ a pervert and you might stop losing your workers’

“look, teaching isn’t my thing. and i feel horrible to find that out so late.”

“well, if your passion for teaching ever comes back, you’re more than welcomed here.”

“thank you,” you smiled, because even though he’s the most annoying person you’ve ever met, your co-workers have always been kind to you.

the children also love you, and you’re extremely thankful for all the support and love you got from everyone.

during the usual lunch break, you co-workers heard the news too. they all wished you the best with a hug, some getting emotional too.

officially, this was your last week working at the school.

when you got home, sasha sent you a link to an advertisement.

‘looking for a nanny’

you laughed, dialing her contact. didn’t take her long to answer, obviously. she’s always on her damn phone, even when working.

“you can’t be serious. a nanny?” you laughed, finding the idea of you with a kid ridiculous.

“have you seen the description? girl, they pay damn well!” she said, followed by her exhaling.

“didn’t you say you’re gonna stop smoking?”

“i stopped. for three hours.”

you shook your head, putting her on speaker as you clicked the advertisement.

“170.000₩?” you blurted out loud, “a day?!” sasha hummed on the other side of the call.

“told ya’..”

“that’s.. nice. woah, yeah, nice.” you mumbled as you continued to read the requirements and some important details about the job.

“give it a try.” sasha said, but your eyes caught a sentence.

“they want someone with experience, as expected.” you let out a long sigh and fell back on your bed.

“you got the experience.”

“me? sasha, i never looked after a kid-“

“you work with kids. first and second graders. and they all fuckin’ love you.”

“that’s different.” you groaned.

“it’s not. a kid is a kid. 3 year olds are just as damn annoying as 7 year olds. prove me wrong..”

you laughed, she was right. they can be a huge pain in the ass, but they have the purest soul.

“true.”

“give it a try, __.” she said again, calling you by your name. oh she’s serious serious.

“yeah, i might call tomorrow then.”

“might? no, you will.” she corrected you and you rolled your eyes.

“sure.”

you called them the next day after considering it for half a day, being the typical embarrassment, you called at the wrong time.

the man was in a hurry, so you both just quickly agree on a time to meet in person. that happened to be the day after.

you looked at the address one more time after you got off the bus, realizing it was more of a wealthy neighborhood. you only had to walk about 5 minutes until you got there, hesitantly but you pressed the bell.

a tall, young man opened the door. his skin is smooth and fair, almost perfect. his hair dark, slightly wavy which was styled in a mullet cut, longer at the back.

his choice in clothes seemed to be rich, a white ribbed polo shirt with short sleeves, causing your eyes to drop to his sleeve tattoo in a second. he paired it with black tailored trousers.

“hey, you must be __?” he asked with uncertainty and you came back to life, smiling to him.

“yeah, i am.”

“great, come in.”

he stepped aside and you walked in, taking off your shoes and jacket.

the house was oddly barely decorated, not a single picture or painting on the walls, very few plants, which you’re sure are fake plants also. the house wasn’t really colorful, most of the furnitures are bright. like beige and cream white.

“would you like a drink? water, tea, soda? maybe coffee?” he suggested as he walked in front of you, leading you to the living room.

“no, thank you.” you politely refused, feeling a little.. off in such a nice home. not something you’re used to.

you sat down on the couch, carefully not to mess the neatly placed pillows behind. god you looked so uncomfortable and awkward.

“i’d like to introduce myself again, in person this time.” he spoke as he sat down on the armchair, next to the couch.

“i’m jeon jungkook, 27. i’m a dentist in the center of seoul. i’m the father of a sweet angel, nabi. she turns 5 in a few weeks, we could say she’s in her, erm,” he struggled to find an appropriate word.

“crazy phase?” you asked with a smile.

“yeah, something like that. she’s been loud lately, that’s all.” he chuckled, resting his arms on his knees.

you nodded and held your small bag tightly, “i’d like to introduce myself better too, then.”

“i’m __, 24 and i currently work at an elementary school. i handed in my resignation letter and this is my last week as a teacher, so i’m searching for a new job currently.”

you paused, hesitant what else to say.

“elementary school? so, you work with kids?”

“yes, first and second grade.”

after a few minutes of getting to know each other more, a little girl, most likely his daughter, walked down the stairs with her sleepy appearance.

“oh!” she stopped the moment she saw you, the tiredness leaving her eyes.

“nabi, c’mere.” jungkook held out his hand, “this is __. what do you say?” he asked her, holding her tiny hands.

“hello.” she greeted you and you smiled, her shyness is adorable.

“hi.”

“__ is here because she would like to look after you.” he said and she looked up to him so fast, you thought her neck would snap.

“daddy, are you leeving me?” she gasped and jungkook chuckled at her words, shaking his head.

“no, but when i’m at work, someone needs to be here and take care of you. how about __, does she seem nice? hm?”

the little girl shrugged, hugging her father’s arm. he sent her back to the bedroom, saying he would be there soon too.

“well, she’s a little shy at first but, i think she’s gonna open up fast.” he smiled and stood up, your eyes widening a bit and you stood up too.

“does that mean, i got the job?”

“see you next monday?” he asked and you almost started jumping, but you held back. instead, you gave him a huge smile and nodded.

“monday then.”

[suranastair]

Kestrel "Kes" de Riva 🐦‍⬛

🟣 Age || 31 🟣 Lineage || Human 🟣 Pronouns || He/Him ~ Transgender 🟣 Identity || Gay 🟣 Class || Mage 🟣 Specialization(s) || Spellblade 🟣 Faction || The Antivan Crows 🟣 Romance || Lucanis 🟣 Besties || Neve & Emmrich 🟣 Frenemies || Davrin

[drewizz]

THIRD TIME - 06. conundrum

pairing ꕀ rafe cameron x reader

WARNINGS. rise of toxic rafe..

WC. 1.9K

TAGLIST. open! comment or send in an ask

series masterlist. previous next

conundrum. (noun) an intricate and difficult problem

Rafe Cameron was never one to second-guess himself. At least, that’s what he liked to believe. But this morning, as he sat in his truck just a block from your house, the usual persona he carried felt.. wrong. Last night’s event played on a loop in his head – from the moment he touched your shoulder to the kitchen, and well, to the couch. (And the small talk in your room but he doesn’t want to think about that.)

He hated how much he seemed to want your attention, seemingly deprived of it; your presence was wanted. Needed. But more than that, it wasn’t even in his own control – which pissed him off.

It was your fault.

If you hadn’t been so… you. He wouldn’t have been sitting here, going mental in his truck for the past ten minutes. He pulled out of the spot and drove aimlessly, needing a place to just forget about you, and his confusing emotions. (As if it was going to work.)

While Rafe was in his truck near your block (which you were completely unaware of), you were trying your best to forget everything. Everything from last night was quite haunting and traumatizing, as it resurfaced when you woke up. 

You woke up with a wince from a sharp feeling near your pelvic area. Too rough last night. Sighing, you registered that you had to forget at some point – so you spent the time doing every little thing possible. Hopefully, you could put aside the heavy feeling that had settled in your chest since the moment he left your house last night, but obviously: it didn’t work.

After a few moments of moping here and there, you decided to get ready to go to the cafe again. Partly hoping the serene place could keep you at bay from such loud thoughts, but also hoping that you could run into him again.

Meanwhile, about a good 20 minutes ago, Rafe found himself at the exact cafe before he even realized where he was headed. He stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room instinctively. Maybe you were there ordering or sitting down and already taking sips.

But obviously you weren't there. (You were busy muttering to yourself about the still-damp floor from last night’s piles of towels.)

The disappointment that followed made him scowl. What was he even doing here? Chasing after someone who he clearly mentioned he didn’t want to go further with? He ended up ordering a drink and sat at one of the corner tables, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he tapped his fingers impatiently against the cup.

Time was passing and his frustration grew. He hated waiting. If anything, people were supposed to wait for him. Not the other way around. He hated feeling like he was on the losing side of whatever game this was. (In your mind, he already lost.)

Heavily disappointed, he left the cafe with his now-cold drink in hand – climbing back into the truck and yelled at himself, punching the steering wheel. (It gained him a few staring eyes, so he yelled at them, too.) However, he didn’t drive away. He sat in his truck, hopeful that you would appear.

And indeed you did.

You arrived about a good five minutes after he had another truck meltdown in the parking lot. You ordered your usual coffee and found a seat by the window. (The one where he sat, but you wouldn’t know that.) The sunlight streaming through the glass was warm, but it did little to thaw the cold knot in your stomach.

You started to realize that you don't mind spending a day without his presence. It was back to silence. Peace. And much needed solitude. (Alas, note that this was a partial lie to yourself.)

But Rafe’s peace was disturbed. He saw you enter the cafe, book in hand and a smile to your face. Oh, that smile. He ignored it. He made it clear that he did not have any interest in you, but seeing you again was making his chest tighten with a mix of irritation and something he didn’t want to name.

Repetitively telling himself to leave, and that he didn’t need to see you, he couldn’t do much except to groan to himself and stay put in his truck.

But then he started getting angrily irritated. Fingers clenching the steering wheel tight, his toxic streak was soaring. Why were you able to be unaffected while he was stuck feeling like this? 

You sat at the place for nearly an hour, flipping through the book you brought with you, but you weren’t really reading it. Your gaze wandered to the door occasionally, a flicker of something you wouldn’t admit to yourself, sparking every time it opened. You wanted to see him. Badly.

Eventually, you checked the time to see that you’d spent almost an hour in here, and left. Deciding a walk might help untangle the thoughts in your head, you walked forward with no particular destination in mind.

In the meantime, Rafe didn’t know why he waited until you were halfway down the block before he started his truck to follow you. His first thought was to get out of the truck and start a conversation with you once he saw you (finally) leave the cafe. But then his pettiness overcame him. So he wanted to see if you noticed him, if you cared enough to turn back.

You didn’t.

He ended up driving slowly and cautiously, his irritation building with every step. What were you even doing? (How you haven’t noticed his loud ass truck following you for the past three minutes, is the more important question.) Wandering around like you didn’t have a care in the world, like you haven’t been knowing that you were completely torturing him through levels of emotional pain? (You didn’t know.)

He almost called out to you but stopped himself. You wouldn’t want to hear what he had to say right now. And he understood you. Not really.

You stopped at the docks near your house again, sitting on one of the benches near a tree. You tilted your head back, letting the cool breeze wash over you with closed eyes. For a moment, you let yourself imagine a life where things were simpler – a life where things would’ve been different. Where you would’ve never met Rafe Cameron.

But the image of him kept creeping in, uninvited and unwelcome. Letting out a dramatic sigh, you kept your head back and eyes closed. You felt at ease, and this is what you wanted.

Rafe was watching you from across the street, openly leaning against his truck. He felt like an idiot (and a creep), just standing there. But he couldn’t really seem to walk away.

He hated how you made him feel last night – raw, exposed, like every part of that you touched felt so fictitious.

Reaching in his pocket to light a cigarette, he didn’t notice how you saw him after you got up from the bench to go back home. He’d forgotten that he was even there, until he looked up and his eyes stayed locked on yours across the street. 

It pissed him off. You weren’t supposed to look this pretty. He hated how you made him feel. He hated you now.

The sharp sound of your voice cut through his thoughts, startling him.

“Rafe?”

His stomach twisted (in delight and resentment).

You were already crossing the street, approaching him and his truck. “What are you doing here?”

Rafe straightened, putting back his lighter and cigarette away, tossing it into the truck from the open window. “I could ask you the same thing.”

You stared at him incredulously, with your arms crossed. “I live near here.”

He snorted, a humorless sound. “Well good for you. But I didn't realize I needed an excuse to be here.”

“You do when you’re lurking in the street, staring at people like a creep,” you snapped. 

“Staring at people?” He let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. “Don’t flatter yourself, Y/N. I wasn’t looking for you.” (Cue the realization that there was not a single person at the docks this evening, so he looked like a pathetic liar. But you didn’t mention it.)

Your jaw tightened, the personal defiance sparking in your eyes. “Right. So it’s just a coincidence you’re here, watching me?”

“Believe what you want,” he shot back, his voice sharper than he intended with a slight croak to it. “But I wasn’t.”

“I will,” you said, stepping closer. “Because all you’ve ever done is prove me right about you.”

His smirk faltered, replaced by something colder. “Now, careful. I thought we already talked about knowing that you clearly don’t know what you’re talking about when it comes to me.”

“I know enough,” you countered, making sure to emphasize how your voice was laced with disdain. “I know you’re too petty and angry to deal with your own mess, so you make it everyone else’s problem. Like last night.”

He took a step forward, closing the gap between you in a heartbeat. “And you’re so perfect, aren’t you?” he hissed. “Always acting like you’re above it all. Well guess what, you’re not.”

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t back down. “At least I don’t waste my time going around trying to intimidate or fuck people into getting everything I want, just like you do.”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, it seemed like he might snap. “You don’t know a single shit about me,” he growled. “But every single time, you act like you know shit.”

“Well I know enough to stay fucking away from you,” you fired back, voice heavy with restrained anger. You forgot that he was still Rafe Cameron. The infamous, ill-mannered boy in town.

“Then why don’t you?” he challenged, his tone venomous. “If I’m so toxic as you claim, why the fuck are you still talking to me?”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. You weren’t even sure why you came over to talk to him in the first place. The air felt suffocating again, heavy with unspoken truths and lingering resentment.

Rafe’s gaze softened, just for a millisecond, but it was enough to make your chest tighten. He shook his head, as if trying to clear whatever thought had crossed his mind. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered, stepping back.

“You’re unbelievable,” you said, your voice quieter now but no less cutting.

“And you’re exhausting,” he snapped, climbing into his truck and slamming the door shut.

You stood frozen, watching as he started the engine. The roar of the truck engine echoed, but he didn’t drive off immediately. Instead, he rolled down the window, his expression unreadable.

“You think you’ve got me all figured out?” he said, his voice low but steady. “You don’t even know half of it. Was trying to find you to talk ‘bout last night, but I don’t even want to see your fucking face anymore.”

Before you could respond, he sped off, leaving you standing there with a storm of emotions you couldn’t untangle.

Anger, hurt, confusion – the undeniable pull you still felt toward him had dissipated. Leaving you only in disgust.

And as you turned back to walk home, you just couldn’t shake the feeling off.

You had officially gotten under his skin.

And he’d gotten under yours.

NOTE. yn GET UP 😞 someone save her.. anyways. tell me your thoughts!! love reading everyone's comments :') ch7 will have much angst.. be prepared soldiers

TAGS. @urbrunettebombshell @rafesfavouritegirl @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @percysley @wtfdudesblog @fratbrochrisgf @rrosiitas @powpowjinxlife @ltristessedureratoujours

[r0-boat]

I had a thought

How would the kings or nobles (preferably Belial & Jjyu, Eligos, Gamigan, Leraye, and Ppyong) react to an MC who is absolutely CRACKED at claw/crane machines?

Like, just wins every single prize and empties the machines

(Is Ppyong considered a noble? Idk I like that red lumpy looking potato tho)

🦩 anon

Oh absolutely I would consider Ppyong as a noble though I don't know if you want the human version or the lumpy potato So I'm just going to do the lumpy potato and it can be a platonic thing

I will do the nobles you have listed there! Because I feel like the kings and the nobles would be a little too much!!

Anyways without further ado

Whb various react to crane claw master mc

Crane claw machines work differently in hell than in the human world. But even with the less scummy practices of these claw machines It was still relatively difficult to get a prize.

Ppyong

But not to you, who was so used to the limp and rigged claws of the machines back home. The Crane claw machines in hell were practically a cakewalk. The red lump devil stared at you with wide, gleaming eyes as you bagged every toy you wanted with ease. He almost wasn't sure you were human; you were some kind of superhero! He tried to tell everyone about your super human skills, so he did...

Your skills came in great handy one day when he got himself stuck in a crane claw machine. You didn't have to crane claw him out Satan could have just destroyed the entire box...

Belial is okay at the crane claw machine, but he's not that good. He first found your secret skill when the two of you were out and about on one of your special dates when it was just you and him. He signed or wrote that he wanted to win you something. After winning you a plushie of a horned cat, He got a glimpse of your skill when you used one plushie to knock another down, getting two and one.

Belial

His lips parted for a second, trying the process because he knew crane claw machines were hard and even harder on Earth. It was not just an accident. Your moves were calculated.

He beamed when you told him that one was for him and the other was for Jjyu, who sadly couldn't make it because of his anger management class. His eyes lit up when he saw a Candy Crane claw machine. The two of you won every piece of candy from that machine before walking home with your goodies.

Crane claw machines are almost unheard of in Tartaros because the thought of losing money with no gain was nearly appalling. So when Eligos was walking through the streets of Gehhenna with you on the way to Tartaros and Saw that machine, He looked confused; it was a machine he had never seen before. And when you told him what it was and what it did, he was even more confused. Why would anyone want to risk their money for a possibility they won't get anything in return?

Eligos

Even though the fabric of the plushies was cheap, and these plushies in particular were cheaply made, You saw him eyeing a pink bunny. Why not? You put in some of the money that man would sometimes gift you and play. You smiled as you fumbled a bit, pretending not to pick up the watched in all punching his teeth every time you failed, before finally, you picked it up, which he excitedly gasped an excited 'yes!' slipping out of his mouth.

Holding the bunny in his arms Eligos now understands the appeal of these machines.

Gamigin SUCKS at crane claw machines! And there's not a lot of them around in Paradise Lost to test his skills since as the ruler of Paradise Lost, Lucifer thinks they're unnecessary and a waste of money and time. "If you want something that bad, you could just buy it at the store."His adoptive Big brother would say. The Young Dragon thinks that Lucifer doesn't get the thrill of winning a prize that you want so much!

Gamigin

You were on a whole another level. As you easily and quickly one three toys in one claw. He was speechless, Even though you moved so quickly each move you made seemed calculated. And you looked so serious too staring into the glass, calm and focused. Oh please teach him, oh great claw master! Teach him your secrets!

Extremely good at Crane claw machines. He has a good eye and is a lot smarter than what he lets on. So when he's bored he usually goes to an old arcade with games from either Earth or old games in hell when he's bored.

Leraye

He likes your skills and he wants to challenge you to a crane claw battle. Whoever wins the most stuff wins! The winner has to do whatever the person says for a day. And of course you win crane claw machines on Earth were much harder than green car machines in hell and he stood no chance. He is now other than your friend and lover your crane claw rival He shall get better and beat you one day and then shower you with the gifts he had one.

[darl-ingfics]

Cowboys Cry Too (Part 1)

Fandom: BTS

Sickie: Namjoon (fever, exhaustion)

Caregiver(s): BTS

Word Count: 1,599

Notes: Welcome back to my series of fics based off of Kelsea Ballerini songs. This is a series I've created focusing on the leaders of the groups I follow, based on Kelsea's song Cowboys Cry Too. Originally, this series was based on her song homecoming queen? but Cowboys Cry Too is newer and had been stuck in my head, so it got the title. Future parts will focus on moments of weakness from other leaders, breaking down and needing to rely on their members to hold them up. This fic is not based on any particular time BTS was in the United States, but picture them a bit younger. They're an established group, but still in their young young adult years.

Part 2 (Onew) | Part 3 (S.Coups) | Part 4 (Hongjoong) | Part 5 (Suho)

Namjoon needed three things: sleep, a gallon of water, several doses of Tylenol, and sleep. Okay, that was four. But technically it was only three because sleep was on there twice. But Namjoon really, really just wanted to go to bed. 

They’d been in the US for nearly two weeks. Two weeks in which Namjoon had had to stay on top of schedules and keep track of his members, while also keeping track of all of his own belongings, which was a feat on its own. Two weeks of running through airports and catching flights and playing the never-ending game of ‘smile at that camera, run from this one.’ Two weeks of talk shows, interviews, performances, concerts, photo shoots, content filming, sightseeing, and so much more. 

And, most importantly, two weeks of non-stop translating for his six very talkative yet very much not-fluent-in-English members. 

“Joon? Namjoon? Wake up, bud.”

The leader came to much slower than usual, finding it difficult to pry his eyelids open. He blinked once, twice, looking around to gain an understanding of his surroundings. He was… at the airport?

Right.

The memories of the past few hours flooded back in a rush. Last night: the final dinner with the American executives, the terrible traffic on the way back to the hotel, the packing scramble in which everyone seemed to have misplaced something, the directives to ‘go to bed immediately’ to get at least some sleep before their early flight, the frustrating inability to fall asleep. This morning: the alarm going off way too soon, the members in disarray for no reason Namjoon could discern, the traffic on the way to the airport, the mad rush and crush of fans and paparazzi at the airport, the horrendous experience of airport security and customs, the horrible realization that Namjoon himself didn’t know where his passport was (Seokjin had it the whole time, anticipating Namjoon losing it), the trek it took to find their gate. 

Despite the crisp detail of those memories, Namjoon had no memory of falling asleep on this bench, but he felt it was warranted given all he’d been through thus far. 

His (much more rapid than he’d realized) thought train was derailed when a cool presence graced his skin. Namjoon’s eyes closed again, an instantaneous response to the wonderful sensation. What was that?

He heard someone click their tongue. He pulled his eyes open again to see Seokjin standing before him, a hand pressed to the leader’s cheek. With a frown, the older man moved his fingers to Namjoon’s forehead. 

Seokjin hummed again. Namjoon didn’t know what to make of that. 

Before he could decipher it further, Seokjin held out his hands for Namjoon to take. “Come on, we’re boarding. You can sleep again once we’re on the plane.”

Namjoon took Jin’s hands and let the older man do most of the work in pulling him to his feet. He also didn’t resist when Seokjin wrapped an arm around his waist, holding him steady as they walked towards the jet bridge. The rest of the group was waiting there for him, the three youngest seemingly in the middle of an intense debate. 

As the first one to see their leader approaching, Taehyung opened his mouth to drag him into their antics, but paused, noticing Seokjin’s protective hold on the leader. Still, Taehyung’s sudden pause led to both Jimin and Jungkook turning around to address the leader without the privilege of seeing him first. 

“Hyung, Jimin and Taehyung are trying to get me to switch seats so that they can sit together, but then I would be the one alone and I don’t want to be by myself!” Jungkook pleaded at the same time Jimin argued, “Namjoon-ah, Jungkookie isn’t being fair! He promised he’d switch with me yesterday, but now he’s doubling back.”

“Guys, leave Joonie be,” Seokjin chided gently. After a split second of confusion, understanding bloomed on both their faces, Jimin’s eyes growing wide as Jungkook’s lips pursed together. “I’m sure we can figure this out. Have you asked Yoongi or Hoseok to switch?”

Jimin shook his head. “No because they look…” All eyes moved to the duo, who were currently sharing a pair of headphones and giggling over something on Hoseok’s phone. Yoongi was actually giggling, in public, a clear sign of exhaustion. “We didn’t want to break that up.”

Seokjin nodded in understanding, worrying at his bottom lip. He really wanted to be next to Namjoon on this flight, but their options were quickly running thin. This tour had taken a lot out of all of them, and it wasn’t surprising to the eldest that his friends were defaulting to their need for comfort. Of course Yoongi and Hoseok were glued to each other’s sides. Of course Jimin and Taehyung wanted to do the same thing. And Jungkook usually had no problem sitting on his own, actually craved it sometimes, so his desire to be with one of his hyungs now meant something. Usually, Namjoon would be the one to step in and take Kookie’s place, opting for some alone time himself. But Seokjin wouldn’t allow that right now, not when their leader was clearly losing a battle with his immune system. And he also didn’t want Jungkook to be the one to bear the burden of watching over Namjoon in case he took a turn for the worse on the plane. 

As Seokjin’s brain turned at rapid speed, Namjoon lifted his head slightly, checking back into the conversation. “I’ll switch with you, Kook.”

“No.” Jungkook shook his head, his hair flopping side to side. “No, you need to stay with Jin-hyung.” 

“I’m fine…”

“Really, hyung, it’s not a big deal. I’ll switch with you, Kookie,” Jimin offered. Jungkook shook his head again, opened his mouth to protest. “Or how about we trade off every few hours? You, Tae, and I can take turns being alone.” 

“What a beautiful compromise,” Seokjin praised, mostly to himself as the two youngest members lit up at Jimin’s suggestion. The three of them, hand in hand, moved to join Hoseok and Yoongi. Seokjin’s hold on Namjoon tightened. “They’re growing up, alright.”

“No thanks to us,” Namjoon joked. Seokjin’s heart gave a little swoop knowing that Namjoon was still coherent enough to joke with him. 

“I would argue it’s entirely thanks to us.”

“After all those embarrassing things you and Hobi did during those interviews?” Namjoon blew out a breath, shaking his head. He was smiling, but it was the most shallow smile Seokjin had ever seen, clearly just a physical gesture to keep up appearances. 

“I’m so sorry, Joonie.”

“For what?”

“For putting so much pressure on you. This trip couldn’t have been easy.” 

The leader sighed, resting his head against Seokjin’s shoulder. “It’s not you…”

“But it is…”

“But it’s really not. The company could have provided us translators more often. They didn’t, and that’s something we’ll work on in the future…”

“But it’s not just the translating! It’s… it’s how much pressure they put on your to be in charge.”

“Our managers do a lot more than you think, hyung. I promise it’s not just me.”

Seokjin shook his head. “I know that, Joon, but I also know you. And I know that you work more than you have to, and take charge when you don’t need to. And I know that you’ve worked your body to its limit and now I’m going to have to spend the next week nursing your sorry ass back to health.”

“Hey, I’ve got a great ass,” Namjoon joked, looking up at Seokjin through his eyelashes. 

The older man snorted. “And when did I question that?”

Namjoon smiled. “I thought you liked taking care of us.” His voice was teasing, but there was a tenderness there.

“I do, but I hate it when you work yourself down to the point of needing my help.”

The leader shrugged. “Consider it payback for all the times I saved your sorry ass on national television this week.”

Seokjin laughed, pulling Namjoon closer as their manager waved for them to get on the plane. “Now, how dare you come for my ass after I just promised to take such good care of you when we get home?” 

Namjoon did not remember much after that. The flight was completely gone (he had slept the entire time). He didn’t remember going through customs or picking up their luggage (he had technically been awake, but he was rather out of it, so the members had taken turns guiding him). He didn’t remember getting home (he had also slept the whole can ride), or changing his clothes or being put to bed. 

But he woke up in his bed. In his favorite pajamas. 20 hours after returning there. Feeling like death warmed over. 

The first thing he saw, though, was an unfamiliar blanket laid over top of his comforter. It was Taehyung’s, one from his grandmother. And there were three stuffed animals tucked in with Namjoon: Kookie, Hobi, Jiminie. And the curtains were drawn when Namjoon himself constantly forgot to do so. Yoongi. And there was a bottle of Tylenol and a few water bottles placed neatly on his side table, as well as a mug of tea that was likely cold now, but the thought of it’s loving presence was warming enough. Seokjin. 

Namjoon had everything he needed. And, after chugging a whole water bottle and downing some Tylenol, he fell asleep again surrounded in the one thing that fulfilled him above all else: his members’ love. 

[jayden-killer]

Bonita.

Paring: jake lockley × fem! Reader.

Genre: smut to Angst to fluffy

Warnings: sex, dom!jake, sub!reader, p in v with no protection, use of safe word, panic attack, low self-esteem, reader being insecure about herself, jake being so lovely with reader.

A/N: It's a bit rushed at the end, but i couldn't think of a better ending lmao

~°~

Hot hands rambled on my body as I was merciless fucked by my boyfriend, Jake. He had no mercy when it came to sex, an animal caging his prey with his strong arms. It felt so good, his cock buring inside of me, sliding in so easily thanks to my wetness. He was so big I could see the bluge forming on my lower belly. That could have been the sexiest thing I've ever seen. I could hear thunders outside, rain droples hitting the window outside.

–Jake, Jake, please...– I managed to say in tiny whispers, his hand now moving to grab my neck, lightly squeezing it. He didn't apply so pressure at all, just to keep my mind altered. His other hand squeezed my hip, with such force, to keep my body glued to his, his chest pressed against mine. He was forcing me to take every inch of him.

–What is it that you want, cariño, mh? I thought you were finally shutting up.

–I need to c-cum, please Jake, I can't..!–

–Now, you should take a look at yourself, you're so beautiful like this, preciosa– I could see him smirking, making it me difficult to keep my composure even if I was being fucked so good at that moment. He moved a piece of hair from my face and stopped. My chest panted, trying to make my lungs gain air. I thought he was done until he slapped me lightly on my tight.

–Turn around, I want to fuck you in front of the mirror–

He gave no time to me to change position, manhandling me with little force. He let my back press against his chest now. He panted into my ear and positioned his tip on my lips again, sliding in one more time with no obstacles. This position allowed me to see Jake's movements better.

Slap, slap, slap.

Skin to skin. We were so sweaty, but that was so worthy of the moment. His well-brushed hair now sticking to his forehead, his well-toned chest glistening in sweat, his eyes filled with lust...that was driving me crazy.

–....so pretty, I can't control myself, mierda, que chiquita tan obediente, tan linda– It seemed Jake was more talking to himself in mutterings than to me I couldn't process entirely what he was saying, but he didn't stop. The more he fucked me with force, the more he rambled.

–I love you, so pretty, never letting you go, never, s-so fragile, my doll, my girl, my sweet girl...–

I never stopped to look into the mirror, Jake's eyes eating me as If I was the best dessert served. But, those phrases. Panic begin to settle into my mind: was that just nonsense? What If he loves me just for sex? Does he love me? Does he find me pretty and all of that stuff?

What if..

Does he..

He can't be serious.

He doesn't love me.

He doesn't.

I'm a mess. He can't love a mess like me.

A utter piece of shit.

I'm so useless.

Oxygen seemed to leave my body as soon as I was thinking all that stuff. I could sense the tension being to rise, and my mind started to be foggy. Dwelling on my fake thoughts.. even my head was spinning lightly.

–Jake, Jake...– I called him, but no response. He was losing himself in the sex. Then, again.

–Jake, please, s-stop..–

He kept fucking me. I couldn't do this. He was going to hate me if I had stopped the sex. Panicking more, I let the safe word slip out of my lips, in a whisper-shout, and Jake immediately pulled out, he hugging my body.

–Preciosa, que pasa? Que te pasa?–

Tears streamed out, and I knew it was impossible to stop tears, and Jake knew I was having a panic attack. I remember the moment I warned him about my anxiety disorder, which sometimes carried panic attacks and anxiety. He knew what he was dealing with, and told me that Steven was suffering from it, too, and that he would handle the situation the better he could. Jake gently took my body, now facing me and caressed my head.

–Princesa, calm down, breathe slowly, okay?–his hand cupped my cheek. My teary eyes looked into his. He seemed so calm... how could he do that? Was he pretending to be calm?

Worse, was he pretending to genuinely care about me?

–Bebè, i got you, okay? Breathe slowly. Follow me, take baby steps. One step at once–

He let my hand lightly touch his chest, allowing me to feel his heartbeat. Has he said slowly? I need to breathe slowly, or else...

My mind was still spinning and panicking, and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I was so scared that even what Jake asked for seemed like a complicated task. But I tried. I needed to try for him. So I breathed in, and out. In and out. In and...-

–ya pasò, tranquila

My eyes landed on his and I was met with warmth. He helped me sit on the edge of the bed, placing soft hands on my back, and rubbing it in gentle circles. He didn't back away, never. He was always there to help me, to listen to me. Sometimes I wondered how I'd managed to date a soul like him. It felt too much like a fever dream than reality. So Jake asked me what happened, if he triggered me with something, and I took deep breaths again, before actually explaining the episode.

–It was not you. Of course, Jake, it is never you, you make my heart flutter every time–I say in chuckles, -I hate to admit it, but it is strange to feel..good-

I felt Jake's eyes soften more at my words. He made a sign, as to say "keep going".

–Sometimes my mind thinks its not okay to deserve actual love from someone else. And destroys me with little thoights which grow more, and more in..something explosive– A sigh escapes my lips and I rub my eyes in exasperation. Jake's quick to grab my chin and make him look to me.

–Bebè, I know what you're saying. And I know what you are feeling.- He pauses, adjusting himself on the edge of the bed, sitting closer to me, now grabbing my hand and placing it on his tight-You don't have to say that, please. I don't know what you've been through, but I sure know a thing- His tone is sad, and worried, even though there's no lack of confidence in what he says.

–First, I love you. You're incredible in all ways. You're good-natured, kind, empathic, reliable..and I can go on!– A chuckle escapes his lips. He never fails to amaze me. -I must admit, when you first kissed me, I was the one to think that I didn't deserve your love. But you made me think that again-

I nod at his words, smiling. –Whoever put those shit of thoughts in your head– he gently placed a finger on my forehead –I'll remove them with my own hands!

–You know it can't be truly possible, right?– I ask, chuckling

–You want me to die! Like, disassembling my brain, like the doctor in Mary Shelley's Frankenstein–

–So? It's going to be fun!– His hands find my sides and Jake starts to tickle me in fast and hard, and I have no choice but to let out bursts of laughs.

–I surrend! I surrend! Let me go!- I loudly laugh, but the smirk on Jake's face says otherwise.

–Only if you promise to let me cook you my special dish and let me treat you like a queen deserves-

I frantically nod and his tickles chase down, letting me regain my breath and sit one more time on the bed. He chuckles at the sight, and his eyes seem to soften once more. The next thing he does is hug me, tight and close to him. I can hear his heartbeat. Fast. So fast.

–Promise me you'll talk to me whenever you're feeling down. Do you understand? You don't have to face it alone. I'll do everything to make you understand you deserve it–

A pause.

–You deserve the love–

And I promised him, I would reach out for his help. For me.

For us.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Storms

Summary: Having heard the rogue prince was harsh, rough, and unruly which for the most part you just figured was true since he was standoffish and didn't talk much with you. but late one in the privacy of your bed you learn how soft and gentle he really can be.

Word count: 1.8k

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Having been trying to become closer to Daemon after marrying him only a few short months ago, you sighed as you went about your business wondering what else could be done even as you had tried asking others for ideas only to hear you should give him time since you both were easing into this relationship. Normally going out of your way to help him with something even if you didn't notice or how you would have certain things he liked already prepped and at the ready for him only to never notice the soft look in his eye toward you once he had caught on to your doings. He wished he had paid more attention to you in the earlier days of your union. You had no duty, you didn't need to win him over for security or your father's land. The effort you put in to gain his affections were out of affection itself. He had been unfair to you in those early days. As he sat by the window watching the ocean pass by, he can't help but feel an irrational sense of guilt and regret.

It had been quite some time since you married, and he felt this tension between you b oth that he just couldn't seem to ease. He felt guilty for not recognizing your attempts at getting him to notice you, and he had been too proud as of late to admit any wrongdoing. But he had to do something. He decided it was time to take control and make some effort to mend your relationship. He called for a servant and asked for some wine and two glasses. He would pour you both a glass, then place the bottle and the second glass on his desk, inviting you to join him. You were pleasantly surprised that Daemon had taken the initiative to repair your relationship. You eagerly joined him for a glass of wine once a servant told you that you were needed, grateful for the opportunity to spend some quality time with your husband. Thinking you both could spend the evening talking and catching up with each other's lives, making up for lost time. You were going to be filled with happiness and laughter that night, feeling a deeper connection to Daemon than when you first met him. You couldn't wait to see what the two of you would accomplish together in the future. You smiled warmly at Daemon's gesture. He seemed to be making an effort to reconnect and try again with you and you were grateful for that. You took a sip of the wine and settled back in your chair. "Is there something you'd like to talk about, my prince?" you asked calmly. "Or did you simply wish to enjoy the evening in one another's company?"

"I simply wished to enjoy the evening with you in my company." Daemon took a sip from his glass of wine before setting it to the side on one of his books. "Our relationship has been difficult these past few months, no?" He asked tentatively "Perhaps it's best that we clear the air now." He had tried to push away these thoughts for so long, and he figured if he didn't do it now then there would never be a time when he would. He didn't want to lose you, or the chance to mend your relationship. He leaned back in his chair, sighing as he felt the wine begin to relax his body and mind. It had been a long day, and he was eager to get to know the person he married on a deeper level. He shrugged, taking a sip of his wine. "A little of both," he said. "But mostly I've just felt that things have been rather tense between us, and I wanted to try to loosen them up a little. I'm glad to see that you're open to spending quality time together." He gave you a slightly flirty wink. You were appreciative that Daemon had addressed the elephant in the room. It was refreshing to hear him be so honest and open about the difficulties in your marriage. You also couldn't help but be touched by the fact that he cared enough about this relationship to want to mend it before something couldn't be fixed. “Yes, it has been difficult,” you said, taking a small sip of wine. “But I am glad that we have this opportunity to spend some time together and try to work through our issues. I truly hope that we can figure out a way to make things better between us.”

"I hope it so too." He could feel the awkwardness in the air between himself and you as if he were some sort of enemy that you had yet to forgive. You had been trying to gain his affections for some time now, and it seemed that he had been throwing away your efforts and taking it for granted. His own pride had blinded him. He decided that he needed to tell you the truth, even if it hurt you. "It is no secret that I have not been fond of our marriage. It was not what I expected." You listened as Daemon opened up to you about the difficulties he had been struggling with. Though you had suspected that he had not been completely happy with your marriage, it still hurt to hear him say it out loud. “I know,” you said, your voice filled with compassion and understanding. “I have been trying to make it work for us, but I understand that it is not easy when you feel so conflicted about our relationship.” You took another sip of your wine, searching for something to say that might make the prince before you feel better.

"I'm sorry…for all of it." Daemon took another long sip from his wine, trying to clear his head. You deserved honesty from him and his heart, not something he had given you for the past couple of months. "I wish I could have been better towards you. I wish I had tried harder to be a better husband." He sighed, leaning in towards you. You could feel his arms wrap around you, and with his lips close to your ear he spoke softly. "And I wish that we could work together to make this marriage into something greater." You felt a sense of relief wash over you as Daemon opened up and expressed his remorse for his actions. You reciprocated his gesture, wrapping your arms around him and speaking with love in your voice. “I am glad that you feel able to be honest with me,” you said. “I know that you have been struggling, and I want you to know I forgive you for taking our marriage for granted. I want us to be happy and to work together to make this marriage the best it can be.” There was a lightness in the air as the couple shared a tender moment together.

He continued to hold you tight and stayed in the moment for quite some time. As each lightning strike cast an effervescent light over the room once a storm outside started, he took each opportunity to gaze upon your beauty that stood out against most even different from his own pale skin tone which excited him. Despite your struggles, his feelings for you had never disappeared even if it took some time to understand. And this night showed him just how much he was willing to change to make things work between you both. As you shared this tender moment he could not help but be filled with joy, and the thought of your marriage turning around was not so far from reality. The storm continued outside, but it was almost as if you were in your own world. The sound of rain, lightning, and wind had been blocked out of the room no matter how much it picked up, and at this moment he could only hear your breathing. You leaned into him, resting your head on his chest as he placed a gentle kiss on the crown of your head, still embracing him with your arms. Your faces were only a few inches from one another, and as he looked into your eyes he was filled with regret and remorse knowing that this could have been a reality you had experienced so much sooner.

You could feel the tension between yourself and Daemon start to melt away. The moment shared was special to you, a chance to connect with him on a deeper level than you had ever managed before. You savored the feeling of his strong arms around you, enjoying the feeling of his warmth and closeness. You felt safe and protected in his embrace, and you were reminded of why you had fallen in love with him in the first place. You started to feel hopeful that this could be the start of something new for you both, the beginning of a happy marriage filled with love and understanding. You felt the same way, wishing that you both could rewind time and make things right from the very beginning of your marriage. But now that the tension had been cleared and you were both on the same page, there was no telling where this romance could go. The couple shared a few more moments of peace together before eventually retiring to bed, hopeful that the next day would bring more sweet moments like the one you had shared this night.

He spent what might have been the best night of his life with you. He could feel the rain pounding against the windows, and he couldn't help but think of all you both had discussed. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, and he realized that your marriage didn't have to be just some arrangement. It could be something more than that. He pulled you closer to him as he cuddled close to you, and kissed your forehead before whispering to you. "I love you, and I will never leave you." He held you tight, and he knew at the moment that it was the truth. You felt a wave of warmth wash over you as you thought back on the soft and gentle moments you had barely shared with Daemon but knew that would all change after tonight. You could not remember the last time you had felt such happiness and love, not even in the early days of your marriage. The idea of a lifetime spent with Daemon by your side was a comforting thought, and you could not wait for your relationship to continue blossoming. You held him close as you placed a kiss on his chest, feeling safe and protected in his arms. "I love you now and forever," you whispered back, feeling your heart brim with joy.

[litsen-lithenna]

How the idea of Astarion's ascension affected me

Foreword: This is going to be very personal, based on my experience and my traumas. I’m quite sure most of you won’t find it relatable, but oh well. The thing is that I had this  "epiphany" a few weeks ago, and it helped me understand a few things about myself and how I relate to Astarion’s struggles. I’m obviously projecting a lot of myself here, so I don’t expect anyone to relate.

Trigger warnings: Eating disorders, self-destruction (take care).

So, I was sitting at home, imagining my Durge asking Astarion one question: “If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?” And as I tried to figure out what Astarion would/could answer, my mind began to spiral in many dark places, and I started to project the whole thing onto myself and my own past…  (that’s also why we are drawn to specific fictional characters; we relate to them, right?)

I’ll try to sum up the whole thought process and I’m sorry, it’s going to be messy (and quite repetitive? idk)... It’s still difficult for me to express it clearly.

Astarion mostly wants to be safe. And considering how he was brought to believe that power = safety, he believes (from act 1 to the ritual), that he will only be perfectly safe if he’s amazingly powerful. Therefore, before getting to Cazador, he would have probably answered something like "I'd like to be more powerful" -> to be able to control others so that they don’t control me (his sense of safety).

Back to my old self: I struggled for all my life with eating disorders, and at several points in my life, I would have answered: "I’d like to be thinner”. I associated being thin with being in control of my body - and I thought being thinner would help me become more self-confident, since being control is reassuring.

When I first started to fall deeply into anorexia at the end of my teenage years, I was in a very dark place, I felt awful in my life and my body. I was convinced that if I could be thinner, I’d be finally able to love myself, and I’d be much more self-confident, much happier, etc. But it didn’t work that way (obviously), because the thing is that, to my eyes, I was never thin enough, no matter how skinny I was (even when I was almost starving myself to death). I was never thin enough to be happy or be self-confident, contrary to what I had believed in the first place. I was never good enough.

And even in the brief moments during which I found my body "ok", or "not too bad", I wasn’t respecting my body, because I was mad at it for not being able to make me happy. I couldn't control my body as much as I wanted to. And I was straining my body more and more because it wasn’t able to be thiner -> to make me love myself.

Whereas when you love yourself in the first place, you don’t care if you lose or gain 5 or 10kg; you accept yourself as you are, and you’re enough, no matter what.

Now, replace "be thinner” by “be more powerful”, and that’s how I made the connection with Astarion when he has to make his mind about the ritual, and what happens if he ascends.

If he refuses to ascend, he accepts himself as he is, without the power with which he would be able to be in control. And he’s fine just like this, he learns to heal as he learns to accept it. He learns to love his real self just as he is.

Whereas if he ascends, he doesn't learn to really love himself just as he is, without all this power. And he keeps on believing that only power can make him worthy and happy, so when he realises that even with power, he doesn't feel happy, he'll think he needs more power...but it's never enough. (just like my old self with the idea of getting thinner: It's never enough, because even when I reach my "goal", I'm not happy, so I'll keep on starving myself... until I almost die).

Since he never learned to accept who he really is in the first place, no matter how powerful he becomes, he will never be enough; We don't know how the situation will evolve after the game for AA, but eventually, he might come to hate that situation, and secretly keep on believing that he’s not enough compared to the biased image he has of who he "should be" (his words).

The common point is, again, about control : Astarion thinks he would be safer if he can control others, I thought I’d be safer if I could control my body.

And of course, in both cases, there is the painful fear of losing control. In Astarion's case, he wants to ascend because without the ascension, he fears that he might be controlled by others again. In my case, it was about the control over my own body: I was terrified by the idea of gaining weight because to me, it meant that I was losing control over my body and I wrongly associated that to a form of weakness (which is not).

Because the real issue is not about being in control in order to be thinner or more powerful, the real issue is that both Astarion and I didn't love ourselves in the first place. The real issue is about accepting yourself as you are, even if you don't control everything. Control is not the key to happiness.

Since I’m still sometimes struggling with some of the aforementioned issues, I was at first very confused with Astarion’s different paths. Luckily after many runs and a lot of thinking, I’m at peace with it now, but it wasn’t instinctive. In my first runs, when I didn’t ascend him, I could experience a weird feeling of dissatisfaction. Even though I was very well aware that UA was the path in which Astarion would learn to be happy, although I knew that without the ascension, he would be able to understand that he is enough just as he is (without all this power), and although my character loved him like this, I couldn’t help thinking “yeah, but power, you know… power is *nice*...” And I hated myself for having that kind of intrusive thoughts. It's so violent in regard to the character. It would be like telling him “I love you just as you are, but if you could be more powerful that would pretty cool.” So freaking toxic.

And it felt like my old demon was coming back. When I look at myself in the mirror, I know that I’d be happier and healthier if I didn’t care so much about “being thinner”, but still, there's that little voice in my mind which comes back to say: “yeah, but if you could be thinner… wouldn't it be nice?” -- and that is a very violent thing to say to yourself or to someone else.

Realising that i was relating to Astarion on that level (among others) was extremely useful, it helped me realize how I still struggle with that "lack of control". And if today I’m not completely at peace with myself, at least I am with Astarion.

In the end, I think one of the "honest" answer to the question “what would you change about yourself” could be : "respect myself more, be kinder to myself and learn to love myself just as I am". I'm not sure Astarion would ever admit it out loud though, or even acknowledge it. But now I can do it, for myself and the character.

Obviously, I am not pretending that my experience is the only truth about the character; it's my own "reality", based on my own experience, and you have your own, and that's why fiction is so important. I don’t really have any conclusion to this long post, but thanks for reading it <3

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: How the M6 lose their temper

Julian

There's a reason the developers said his cardinal sin would be wrath

The only kind of thing that would make him lose his handle on his anger like that would be someone who doesn't value human life

He's not the most physically strong dude, but he didn't survive pirate ships on sheer luck

He's using every weapon at his disposal and that's not limited to whatever swords, scalpels, or leeches he has on hand

Nobody knows how to sway a crowd to his side like he does and he will use that

He'll be bellowing at the top of his lungs, listing every infuriating thing there is to know about this person and exactly what consequences he thinks they should suffer

And because he's good at getting people to listen to him, you can bet he'll drum up a mob of rioters in no time

People aren't afraid of what Julian personally will do to them if he's properly angry, they're afraid of what he'll unleash in the form of every person in earshot

Assuming you spend the rest of your life with him, you'll only see this happen a few times, and each time is easily justifiable

He is one of the most forgiving people by nature. Once justice is done, he'll be right back to his usual self like nothing happened

Asra

It's no secret that they can hold a grudge

He's not the type to harbor ill intent either, malice isn't really his thing, he's got other stuff to focus on

What sets them off is when someone acts selfishly, casting disproportionate harm on other people either for one's own gain or to escape earned consequences

You won't know the moment his temper snaps by his actions, you'll know it by his face

They will be completely closed off. Their only interest will be doing right by the people who were harmed, and making sure the person harming them is incapable of continuing that behavior

He will pursue that end by the most efficient means. If that involves great harm to the person who has angered him, he'll do it. If it involves no harm to the person who has angered him, he'll do it

They lose their temper when they lose any care for the person who crossed their line

This kind of reaction takes a long time to build and a long time to resolve

If you see it coming, you can ask him to talk about it and express his frustration, which will make it easier for him to forgive the wrongdoer if a good opportunity arises

If not, they will never view that person as a worthy human being again

Nadia

She is the definition of feminine rage, you do not want to make her angry

Thankfully, that is a very difficult thing to do

She is one of the most open minded people you'll ever speak to, if there is a set of actions or beliefs that she doesn't vibe with, she'll still seek out the reasoning behind them before she passes judgment

She loses her temper when she sees someone target another person for purely petty and malicious reasons

Someone at the palace kept making vicious remarks about her loved ones because they felt insecure around them? It's over

You could try to insult her ego by calling her petty, but it goes far beyond that if she's truly angry

Every ounce of intellect, drive, and influence she has will be painstakingly strategized into the most effective way to tear someone apart piece by tiny piece

First it's the rumor she influenced Portia to plant. Then it's a missed pay raise. Then it's an increase in rent. It's a never ending stream of situations in which the quality that person was insecure about is on full display. None of it can be traced back to her but she's the only one you know capable of it

She will stop when she either sees her target truly remorseful for their sins, or recognizes the viciousness of her own actions

Muriel

It is highly unlikely that you'll ever see his anger become so dominating that he succumbs to it

He is much more complex and introspective guy than a lot of people give him credit for. His anger is always tied to something more intricate

He's angry about his time in the Coliseum, but he's also betrayed and deeply ashamed and regretful. He's angry about the fate of his parents, but he's also grieving bittersweetly for a community and an identity he thought he'd never have

As a result, you're more likely to see him focusing on the nuance and complexity of the situation and reacting to that instead

It's easiest to tell when he's angry at someone because it's one of the only times he won't try to avoid somebody for a reason that's not positive

If he's hurt or frustrated by someone, he'll avoid them because that's how most people tended to make him feel anyway (before half the city designated him their hero)

But if he's truly, deeply infuriated, he'll come out of whatever space he likes to keep to to ensure that the wrongdoer faces justice

Which requires a wrongdoer causing injustice to more people than just himself

You rarely see him act in anger but it's justifiable each time

He doesn't like confrontation at all, as soon as he is capable of focusing on a different emotional element he's doing that

Portia

She's less of a schemer and more of a "talk with your fists" type of woman

She probably has the healthiest relationship with her own anger of anyone you know, mainly because she doesn't hide or avoid or bottle it up

Her brother crossed a line? Punch to the gut. Someone kept snarking at work when there wasn't time for that? Whack upside the head. A creep was rude or intrusive? Slap across the face

One of the wonderful things about being with her is that you'll never be in the dark about how she feels

Because she's so in tune with expressing her own rage, it's extremely uncommon for it to get the best of her to the point that she's actually lost her temper

That would only happen if the thing that made her so angry was also something she had no solution for and was at the mercy of

Then her response isn't about expressing an emotion, it's a fury-driven obsession with proving that thing wrong or taking back control from it, and everything she is and has will be poured into it nonstop with ferocious intensity

And she won't stop until she's either achieved that goal or until you or someone else has shown her why the initial challenge was baseless

She'll be tired afterwards, but she'll also be herself again and that's what really matters

Lucio

Tantrums. It's canon.

He had tantrums over the things that upset him so often that Vesuvians were putting on plays about it years after his death

Walking through his past with him resolved a lot of that behavior because it became clear that most of his anger was a defensive response to overwhelming fear

Now most of the time he feels one brewing, he knows to talk about it with you or someone he trusts so the fear that causes it can be dealt with

He still indulges every now and then if it's trivial, you know well enough not to be bothered and it's cathartic to let it all out

You'll know he's really, truly angry when he goes silent

This is only likely to happen when someone infringes on something he values very deeply

This is the Lucio that took a fiendish delight in the most violent parts of battle, who abused emotional connections to see more blood in the sand, whose best form of thanks was lifelong imprisonment and isolation, who didn't think twice before sacrificing countless lives for his own gain, who made deals with the Devil

You're the only one who can snap him out of it

He will feel bitter remorse for his reaction, and will take appropriate steps to forgive and to ask for forgiveness

[yanderelmk]

Question for redson, nezha, azure, wukong and peng and macaque if youd like

1. If we wanted to have children, how would you react?

2. How would you help your darling with period stuff?

3 . If I asked you to make me immortal so we could love each other forever would you?

🏮💜❤️‍🩹

🔥RED SON🔥: Red Son's face went red and his jaw dropped open. "Ch-children?? You want children?! Do you know how difficult those are to raise? But..." He fidgets, pressing the tips of his index fingers together. "Just how many would you wish to have?" "As for the menstrual predicament, I do not fear the monthly blood ritual. It is just simple biology, only smooth-brained peasants fear the shedding of the uterus." "I have already begun thinking of ways to gift it to you. I presume our marriage would not be enough on its own, though it would grant you demonic nobility status...either I will have to break into Heaven or I will have to find one of the ancient Sages to force the secret from them." 🪷NEZHA🪷:

"I would love children, but I would not be able to care for them as much as I would be able to. I am the protective deity of all children, I would rather not run the risk of favoritism towards my own. But...I do admit the idea appeals to me of having children with the one I love."

"Ah, yes, the process in which a mortal reaches developmental maturity. Fear not, I am experienced in dealing with this sort of thing. In advance I prepared many snacks, especially chocolates, and heating devices. All you need to do is rest up." "Immortality is only gained by Heaven's permission. To do otherwise...well...those who become immortal without Heaven's consent face miserable lives as punishment. Chang'e is the kindest example of what happens when greed for immortality overtakes reason. I will do my best to beg for your appointment as an immortal by my side, but it might take some time. I only ask for your patience." ☀️WUKONG☀️:

"Kids? Like...more than one? Look, I'm gonna be honest with you, I take care of my Flower-Fruit Mountain children okay, but I don't know how good I'd do with a one-on-one infant. I'm willing to try, but I think we should prooobably wait until I've taken some parenting classes first." "Oh! Periods! That's the monthly feminine thing, right? Uhh..." Wukong digs around a bit and tosses a blanket on you. "There you go!" Wukong sighs. "Look, I know I might have become immortal a good few times over, but it's really not that easy. Heaven's not gonna let you become an immortal that easily. I'll do what I can, all you have to do is eat the food of Heaven to become immortal, but it's going to be a really rough process. I'll only do it if you're absolutely certain." 🦅PENG🦅:

"I would be overjoyed to raise fledglings with you! How many are you thinking? I believe six is an appropriate number." "Ah, the matters of the femmes. I remember when I had to deal with that...tell you what, you sit here, I will go and procure the necessary supplies. Then I'll snuggle up with you until you fall asleep." "Immortality? That is easily done! Once we achieve our ambition to overtake Heaven, I will make you my Immortal Consort. No weapon, Celestial, Infernal, or Mortal, will be able to strike you down."

🌑MACAQUE🌑:

"Why would you want kids? Don't those make a lot of noise and stuff? I'll compromise: How about we get a puppy or something, start off small?"

"Periods? Um...I don't really know how those...work. What do you need for that, a bandage? I got plenty of those." He sighs. "Look Y/N, I'll be honest with you, immortality's not all it's cracked up to be. Forever is a long time. If you're adamant and absolutely 100% certain, I'll try to do what I can, but you're gonna have to accept that being immortal means living for a really long time. You'll lose your friends and family, everything will change while you never do. It can be a painful existence."

[ravenbloodshot]

Yuzuru Hanyu (Figure Skater)- Mini Personality + Divorce Reading

Personality

I heard the word "fraud." I was already getting vibes that he may be a compulsive liar or the type to manipulate the truth. He may also make himself seem a certain away. The thing is, I'm not picking up a reason for why he lies. So it could be that he finds it easier to lie/passive others than he does being direct and potentially coming off as aggressive to ppl.

I don't know if he has some type of coach/mentor (its likely he does), this prominent person has been someone who's advised and guided Yuzuru through the most difficult aspects of his athletic career. Yuzuru may hold a lot of respect for this person as well. He listens to this person and accepts their guidance. He's someone that receives information really well (idk how to explain this but, I'm a boxing fan and I've been particularly watching Claressa Shields boxing matches, I remember her coach and even her fans saying what made her such a great boxer was her ability to take critique well and actually listen, then follow what was said to her. To give more context to my point, during one of her matches, her coach would yell out things to her like, "Keep your head up, Claressa, make sure to step back some." And she would literally follow the coach's exact words even adding a bit of her own jazz to it.) This is the energy Yuzuru gives me, an athlete that listens well to his coaching. May have something to do with the Japanese social/age hierarchy culture, in which people have to show a deeper respect to those older/more experienced.

He may have a fear of losing his wealth, understandably so, since I believe he has retired and now will have to live off of the money he's made over his athletic career. But this fear of his may cause him to not make smart financial choices. Like, instead of investing his money and trying to go through other avenues of gaining and ultimately maintaining his wealth, he may just start being more frugal. (Idk if he supports his family but I'm getting a vibe of him taking away gifts, for an example if he bought his mom a lavish car, he may have taken it back and gotten a cheaper one).

I feel like he has a weird mentality when it comes to fixing issues. It's like he has a traditional mindset of "This way of handling this issue didn't work, so I'm gonna just go back to doing it the way I used to." I don't think he's very smart, if I'm being honest. He's probably better at doing what he's told than to actually think for himself

Divorce

Well, this is simple. Whomever he married was too insecure and controlling. The type to put a tracker on his phone and still demand that he tells her his location.

Like I alluded above, Yuzuru is more passive and honestly not that smart. So he could have put up with a lot of her demands and shenanigans, may have even thought the behavior was cute during the dating stage until it wasn't.

Yuzuru's fans could have had a part to play in why it ended. Harrassing the couple and just made life hard for both of them, especially her. Not saying Yuzuru can control his fans, but I'm getting a vibe that he didn't exactly try to control them either. He kind of just let shit happen. Even when they were shit talking her online or sending hate her way, he never stepped in.

But overall, he married someone who wanted to be more of a dictator than a partner, someone who was not mentally stable.

La La La by Naughty Boy is a song that fits this reading's energy

[lymooniee]

I've come to another realization--

This scene in particular is so important ahem let me do some sort of analysis:

Firstly, Shadow's desperation to stop Sonic right away by exclaiming they're not real. This right here shows us that he empathizes with Sonic by trying to protect him from getting hurt. He understands these are the closest projections to his reality, so he does what he can to keep Sonic at a calm level instead of letting him spiral. We see this too by the way he guides his hand out to Sonic, but pulls back because Shadow has a difficult time expressing his emotions. I've stated before that I see Shadow as autistic. This, to me, kind of adds to that hc of mine. There's actually a lot of scenes in this episode I could pull to make my point ngl. Anyways, that's off topic a bit, but yeah he has a hard time with placing his empathy into comfort. Yet he still knows the right things to say, I believe this is because he's able to place himself in Sonic's view in some sense.

Shadow gets annoyed by Sonic for being stubborn and once again reiterates how Sonic has much more important things to live for. Like his "real" friends, I think Shadow saying this is so significant because it reminds me of his own backstory. He knows how hard it was to promise to save Maria and end up losing her, so he knows how Sonic would feel if he were to die and not be able to keep his promises or vice versa, where he couldn't save anyone else because of his impulsive decisions. The way Shadow becomes so adamant that Sonic needs to focus on those who are real and truly need saving makes me happy because it once again shows his empathetic side. He may not come out and say "I want to save everyone" but the way he expresses his desire to save those around him and to encourage Sonic in doing so as well, is brilliant. It's why he has in the past saved Rouge and other characters of course too. It's why he does sacrifice himself at the end of Sonic Adventure 2. He isn't heartless, he cares deeply and a character doesn't need to say they're a hero to do hero things either. Shadow can be a hero in his own way, but because of his past and because of him teaming up with EGGMAN. He came to be known on the dark team. You know the funny thing though, is that the dark team weren't even bad, they helped those around them, helped Sonic in many ways, I just believe they have different ambitions hence why they are on a separate team. I've always loved that they never considered them as evil. It makes Shadow such a realistic character in a lot of ways, he wants to save those around him, but he doesn't want to gain praise from it.

The fact that Sonic at first pushes Shadow away, but then pauses in realization. It's so good, the dynamic between them is why I'd love to have a game where they just have to work together and you play as both. It'd be interesting to see them write them as something other than rivals, because tbh, they weren't ever the typical rivals to begin with which I love. I think too it'd be such a refresher from all the poorly written Shadow characterization, it'd do justice for him and Sonic in a lot of ways. I also do hope one day that Sega allows us to play as all the characters again but i digress as I ramble on and on.

To go back on topic, they both wish for the same things but have such different mindsets. Sonic needed Shadow in this, because without Shadow, Sonic would be struggling to keep his head straight.

[peaches2217]

A Call from the Balcony

AO3 Link!

~~~

“Ah, your highness!” Toadsworth greeted. “You’re in a bit late, aren’t you? No matter! Before you retire to your chambers there’s a few things I wanted to— y-your highness? Your highness!”

His voice quickly faded behind Peach as she passed him, her pace quickening into a brisk walk, then a light jog, then a run. She would apologize later, she decided. Toadsworth was never very far. There would be plenty of time to explain away her actions and listen to whatever it was he intended to yammer on about.

She didn’t have the same luxury at her disposal right now. This mission was time-sensitive. She hiked her skirts up and ran as quickly as her shoes would permit, the heels clacking frantically against the marble floors; she thought for a moment of kicking them off so she could sprint, but she would lose as much time in the act as she would gain from the additional mobility.

And anyway, the next corner she rounded brought her face-to-face with her target destination. She burst through the entrance to her drawing room, stumbled into her bedroom, and threw aside her balcony doors, rushing to the railing and praying she wasn’t too late.

The darkness outside made color difficult to perceive, but she recognized the red-and-blue silhouette crossing the bridge over the castle's moat all the same. A grin split her face from ear to ear.

“Mario!”

He startled, as though her call had pulled him from some deep train of thought, and quickly turned to face her. She swore his eyes lit up at the sight of her, and that filled her with an unprecedented joy, so intense that her head buzzed and warmth blossomed in her chest.

She paused then, fighting back a sudden wave of panic. She hadn’t thought of anything to say.

In truth, they had only parted ways a few minutes earlier. Today had been a rare and wonderful day in which they’d never once left each other’s side. A meeting with a foreign diplomat that morning meant Mario had arrived bright and early to serve as her guard; the uneventful meeting ended just before 1:00 in the afternoon, so she had invited him to share lunch with her before she had to bury herself in administrative paperwork. Mario himself had offered to keep her company and make the tedious task more bearable, and thanks to the constant joking and frequent mental shifts from the topics they were supposed to be focused on, the sun hung low in the sky by the time she finished. She had then offered dinner for his troubles, and he agreed on the condition that they take a short walk afterward — “Nothing worse than being cooped up like that all day,” he’d said, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, and she couldn’t help but agree.

An hour after the sun had gone to bed, she finally and reluctantly bid him farewell, because she had already taken up his entire day and he didn’t seem willing to leave without her permission. Yet she missed him as soon as they parted, and by the time she was inside, she made up her mind that she needed to see him one last time.

Now Mario was staring up at her, clearly expecting a reason for being stopped so soon after being excused, and Peach could think of nothing but Every moment with you never feels like enough.

What would he say to that? Would he laugh? Would he be embarrassed? Would he feel the same way?

“I… forgot to tell you!” she finally said after what felt like an eternity of wracking her mind for excuses. “The main fountain in the garden has sprung a leak. I fear it will face irreparable damage if it isn’t fixed by about 2:30 tomorrow afternoon!”

Another pause, this time as Mario processed her announcement, and she witnessed the exact moment he realized it was actually an invitation — his eyes widened in understanding, and then he gave a single, firm nod. “You can count on me, Princess!” he called back.

Already Peach’s heart felt lighter. What would she invite him to do? She could get up early to bake his favorite coffee cakes and they could share them in her favorite gazebo. Or perhaps she could pack them and a bottle of wine into a wicker basket and escape the castle grounds with him for a few hours. Tomorrow’s weather was supposed to be lovely, perfect for an impromptu picnic. Or they could always just do as they had done tonight, pacing about in the fields behind the castle as they discussed any and every topic that ran through their heads.

She supposed she had a bit of time to choose. It would be rude to keep him waiting in the meantime.

“Forgive me for holding you up,” she called.

“Never!” he called in return. “It’s always a pleasure!”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow?” She backed away from the railing, giving him silent permission to break away, and she noted with a pang of amusement that he took a single step back as well, as though mimicking her.

“Of course! Can’t have that fountain breaking down, now, can we?”

She took another experimental step. Mario followed suit. Did he even realize he was doing it?

“Then stay safe going home!” Another step.

“Oh, I think I can manage!” The same step, mirrored.

“Sleep well!”

“May your dreams be sweeter than cannoli cream!”

“And may your night be equally pleasant!”

“Buonanotte, amabile principessa!”

“You too! I think!”

Mario laughed, and considering they were still calling out to one another while Peach’s back was inches from the doorframe, she laughed as well. She never wanted this game of call-and-response to end. But what other choice did they have? Mario pulled his cap from his head and waved with it, one final, wordless farewell, and Peach scrambled for her handkerchief to return the gesture. Like a noblewoman seeing her lover off, she couldn't help but think.

Eventually, Mario turned in the opposite direction, though his actions seemed slow, almost thoughtful, and he kept his eyes on her until his body’s change in position forced his head forward. Like a noblewoman’s lover desperate to drink in her image one last time. The thought made Peach’s throat feel tight.

If only…

She watched in silence as Mario walked out of sight, his cap seemingly forgotten in his right hand. She absently clutched at her handkerchief in her left and sighed. “Goodnight, Mario,” she whispered into the night.

~~~

“Guys don’t just stare at girls until they physically can’t anymore if they don’t feel something for them,” Toadette weighed in half an hour later, brushing the last of a handful of tangles from Peach’s hair. Peach just sighed for what must have been the hundredth time that night.

“Something about my posture must have been amusing to him,” she reasoned. “Or I was simply imagining it. You know how time slows when he leaves.”

Toadette stepped down from her step stool to set the ornate hairbrush on the vanity, and Peach tore her eyes from her own miserable reflection to watch as she fetched a bottle of argan oil, only to disappear behind her again. 

“You of all people have no reason to sell yourself short.” Tiny fingers massaged her scalp as Toadette worked the oil through her hair. She closed her eyes and relaxed at the familiar sensation. “You’re a princess, for crying out loud! You know how many men dream of becoming your suitor? What makes you think Mario’s any different?”

The answer was obvious, Peach felt, but tonight she felt more tempted than ever to think maybe her lady-in-waiting had a point. “Because I’m not just a princess to him,” she said, more to herself than to Toadette. “I’m a cherished friend, a trusted confidant, an equal.” 

“And nothing’s going to convince you otherwise.”

“Nothing short of him saying any differently himself.” When Peach opened her eyes, her reflection looked tired, sad. She couldn’t help but smile bitterly. “It’s a bit cruel, honestly. Knowing one of the reasons I love him so much is one of the very same reasons he could never return those affections.”

Now it was Toadette's turn to sigh.

That night, Peach settled into bed and fell asleep quickly, an overstuffed pillow hugged tightly to her chest. She remained blissfully unaware of the scuffle just outside of her door.

“I’m telling him everything!” Toadette cried, writhing in vain against Toad’s grasp on her wrist.

“Don’t you dare!” Toad pulled with all of his might, managing to drag her a few inches back before she lurched forward again.

“I can’t take it anymore!”

“You think I don’t get an earful of lovesick rambling every day too?!”

“By the stars, if they can’t take a hint, I’ll make them see the light myself!”

“This has to happen organically! On its own! You can’t rush love!”

“I can and I will!”

On the opposite side of the door, Peach dreamed of a warm summer day sharing coffee cakes with the man she loved more than life itself. She smiled in her sleep and hugged her pillow closer.

[quakenshake]

Prompt: Drunken Words

Hi, guys! I’ve always wondered how Chishiya would react to drunk people/a drunk reader, so I thought I’d give it a go. I do want to warn you: this one is quite angsty, and gets a bit dark. There are mentions of violence, death, alcohol, self harm/suicidal ideation, strong language, etc. Please use caution if you are sensitive to any of these themes! Hope you guys enjoy, and please do let me know of any requests! I’m wondering if I should do another version of this, but from his perspective? Let me know if that sounds interesting! - S

It wasn’t your intention to get drunk; but then again, it hadn’t been your intention to kill anyone, either. When in Rome, right? It was all survival, anyways. If poisoning your blood with alcohol meant you could go another night without putting a bullet through your skull, then really…it was no different from the bullets you’d lodged into that girl’s body. A life for a life. What was it he’d told you? “To gain something, you need to lose something.”  If you thought about it that way, then alcoholism seemed like a pretty good trade for your sanity.

The taste of the drink was disgustingly sour, and it burned its way through your body as you swallowed with a grimmace. There was a comfort to the pain, though. It was real, and it brought you to the present moment, and it hurt far less than the memory of what you’d done not three hours prior. What had her name been? Hana? Haru? Pathetic. You took another swig, willing yourself to succumb to the fog that was slowly filling your head. 

That was the true beauty of alcohol- not the fruity taste, or the pretty colors, or the cute little umbrella that the bartender had added. The beauty was held in the moral ambiguity that it allowed. If you thought long enough about it, you supposed that was probably what drew everyone to the Beach- what drew them to the Borderlands in general. Your mind flashed to Niragi, the Beach’s very own boogeyman. More animal than human, driven on impulse and hormones, every bit of which was allowed in a place like this. The Borderlands suited him well, and you began to wonder if it could maybe suit you, too. Niragi doesn’t feel guilt, you thought. But I’ll be damned if he doesn’t know how to shoot. You threw back another swig to drown out the thought before it could form into a dangerous path.

Before long, your glass was empty, pushed to the side to join the three other glasses you’d collected so far. You could feel the bartender’s eyes flash in your direction, and you didn’t have to look up to know what he was thinking. You were drinking too much, too fast, and too openly. You were making yourself vulnerable, something you’d sworn never to do. In fact, it was something you had ridiculed the rest of the Beach residents for, scoffing at their willingness to let down their guards in a place like this. But that was just the thing-- you didn’t want your guard let down, you wanted it fucking destroyed. 

This place might seem like a perpetual nightclub on the outside, but you knew damn well the horrors that lay within. The secrets, the lies, the monsters. This was no safehaven, no utopia, and anyone who treated it as such was a fool. But you were in pain, and the alcohol was supposed to remedy things like pain. Besides- if some monster were to find you like this, defenseless and impaired, would it really be so bad? Your mind wandered to the girl…that damn girl. She had been defenseless. She had been impaired. It didn’t stop you, did it? Caught in a beartrap, pleading for her life, and you’d shot her all the same just so you could go back and drink yourself to death.

“Y/n,” came a voice from behind.

Ah, you thought. So a monster has found me. You turned to face him, finding with a start that it was more difficult to stay balanced in your seat than before. Like a moth to a flame, your eyes found his own- deep and dark, and maddeningly blank. A part of you hated that he’d been the one to find you like this, but the other part of you- a part pulled to the surface by the alcohol, you presumed- soaked up his presence like soil soaking up water after a drought. 

“Chishiya,” you replied. Your voice slurred in a way that enraged you. Never before had you felt so foolish, so weak. You braced yourself for the snarky comment he was sure to fire your way. Ever the opportunist, you knew he wouldn’t be able to resist the chance to bathe in arrogance. But the comment never left his mouth, and his eyes never betrayed his thoughts. He was so unlike you- so composed. It made you hate him all the more.

No longer able to look at him, you clumsily spun back around to face the bar. Lifting a hand into the air to wave down the bartender, you nodded toward your ever-growing pile of empty glasses.

“Another,” you said simply. The bartender hesitated, glancing between you and your unwelcome guest. After what you’re sure was a warning glare from Chishiya, the bartender cleared his throat awkwardly before spinning away to tend to the other Beach residents. Annoyed, you rolled your eyes dramatically and let out a huff to blow the hair away from your face.

“It’s rude to cancel another person’s order,” you grumbled, half-sure that he hadn’t been able to hear. Of course, he had. 

“No more rude than drinking the bar out of stock,” he retorted with amusement. “Perhaps you never learned to share.” Pulling the chair out from beside you, he took a seat. You were surprised by his decision to stay, knowing full well that this was entirely not his scene. Finding the courage to spare him a glance, you found his eyes darting warily between the intoxicated bodies dancing not too far away. He was out of his element, and you took that as a win. If you had to be drunk and miserable, then the least he could do was be a little uncomfortable. 

“I’m fine,” you said suddenly. You weren’t quite sure why you’d said it. You knew he didn’t care, and you were certain that you didn’t care. Perhaps it was simply the thing to say in moments like this, when one is caught like a wounded animal. Drawing his eyes back to your own, Chishiya blinked at you.

“I never said you weren’t.”

He hadn’t. And it wasn’t fair to accuse him as such. But there was something in his eyes- whether you were imagining it, you weren’t quite sure- that almost looked like pity. And he could not pity you. In the short time you’d known the man, there were several things you’d wanted to receive from him- partnership, companionship…hell, maybe even feelings. But never his pity. So you resented his presence regardless.

“Fuck off, Chishiya,” you said darkly. The poison from the alcohol must have kicked in somewhere along the way, because you could have sworn that your words were dipped in venom. But the man had leather for skin, and your words were brushed off within seconds. Instead, he continued to gaze at you with those stupid eyes of his. Those stupid, beautiful eyes.

“It’s time to leave,” he said after a moment. You wanted to hate how gentle his tone was- wanted to accuse him, again, of pitying you. But his words wrapped around your aching heart like a hug, chipping through the ice with their warmth. You pondered for a moment if it was worth it to put up a fight. It was what you wanted to do, after all. You wanted nothing more than to shout at him, cut down his ego and sever whatever this thing was between you for good. It could be easier that way. It could be what you deserved. 

But then he held out a hand for you to take, and suddenly it didn’t matter what you wanted, but instead what you needed. He wouldn’t be like the alcohol; he wouldn’t burn you to make you feel, he wouldn’t drown out the memories of that poor girl, and he wouldn’t allow your morals to crumble like Niragi. He didn’t come in fruity flavors, bright colors, or with a cute little umbrella. But he was warm in a way alcohol could never be, and right now, he was the only thing capable of numbing the pain, even just a little. You needed him. 

Taking his palm with your own, you let him pull you to your feet. Thankfully, the sky had long grown dark, and the crowd of people dancing around you provided discretion as the two of you weaved your way back into the hotel. You weren’t sure when the tears had started to fall, but if Chishiya had noticed, he had been kind enough not to mention it. You scrubbed at them furiously with your sleeve, desperate to remove their stain before they could be seen. By the time you reached your room, you seemed almost half put-together. 

Resting your head against the wall outside of your room, you waited patiently for Chishiya to open the door. He did so silently and with ease before turning back to you and taking your hand once more. It was brief, but for a second he held your eyes with his own. There was no pity there like you had feared before, but something deeper and more understanding. He guided you through the doorway and to your bed, where you collapsed into a ball. Sitting next to you, Chishiya’s hands found their way back to their favorite place in his pockets as he stared ahead quietly at the wall.

“I want you to stay with me,” you whispered into your pillow. By now, the adrenaline had run its course through your body and been replaced with a heavy fatigue. You found yourself struggling to keep your eyes open, but you were determined not to fall asleep just yet. A few moments passed before he responded to you, and you began to wonder if he hadn’t heard.

“I know,” he said finally. Still turned away from you, it was impossible to see the expression on his face. Not that there would ever be much to see. He seemed lost in thought, breathing slowly with his eyes still burning into the wall. You wondered if he was calculating his next decision. Everything seemed like a game of chess to him- no choice could be made without deliberation and intent. You wondered if you’d ever get to see him relaxed, maybe somewhere outside of the Borderlands. You wondered if he ever was relaxed. The thought made you horribly sad, and you craved to have his hand in your own again. Finally, after what seemed like forever, he made his move.

Rising from his position, he paused only for a moment before heading toward your door. You watched through half-lidded eyes as he parted, willing him back with each step he took. I guess he does burn like alcohol, you thought with bitter amusement. Once he reached the door, he paused once more, turning his head slightly. It was not enough for you to be able to see his face, just enough to send the message he was regarding you.

“Sleep on your side,” he said. With that, he opened your door and disappeared into the hallway.

[justacanofcorn]

quam amiterre ludum (losing the game) James Moriarty x OC

Chapter Twenty: ludo finitum.

Chapter Nineteen

Finally, Anora gets closure. finishing the game.

Two days later, James's sentencing is postponed due to insufficient evidence. Days after that, due to backroom arguments and political strains, sentencing is postponed indefinitely. James will sit in a prison cell for days, for weeks, months- how long? Will it go on until they forget him, and then is it really justice?

John tells Anora not to worry. Sherlock tells her that he won't let the forgetting happen. She knows there's nothing he can do. There's nothing any of them can do, except try to move on. And while it seems that Sherlock, Irene, and John have made that look easy enough, every day Anora feels as though she's made some grievous error. There's no way she could've been any more prepared for that day in court, nothing more she could have said to make her case, or weaken James's. She told the truth as it is.

Yes, human tragedies and human judgment indeed.

Human error, too.

Because, on a particularly early, freezing morning in early January, Anora bundles up in her coat, scarf, and gloves, and quietly departs from 221b Baker Street. She quickly catches a carriage and makes for Scotland Yard. Surely this will get around to someone, but she's hoping that the early hour will save her some time. 

When she arrives, she asks to speak to Lestrade, which is difficult enough, given his busy schedule and propensity to make things needlessly complicated, but eventually he finds her in the waiting area.

“Miss Leeds. Awful early to be making calls, isn't it?”

They don't shake hands and there's no proprietary greetings. Anora doesn't mind this.

“I need a favor,” she says. Lestrade chuckles. 

“Yes, I see why you and Holmes get on like a house on fire.”

“I've never asked you for anything. We've hardly ever spoken unless there's a battle raging in the background. Could you at least hear me out, please?”

Lestrade’s facetious smile dwindles and he stands with his hands on his hips. Anora takes his silence as an allowance to continue.

“It's a personal favor. I… I feel as though I didn't get closure with him. All I want is a conversation.”

Lestrade studies her.

“I'll have to search you for weapons.”

“I'm tired of him beating death, so I'm not going to embarrass myself by trying again.”

Lestrade likely doesn't miss her inclusion of the word ‘again’, but he allows it to slip by. 

“You're not worried how it'll look?”

“They've made their decision; they're just toiling over it at this point. They've cast their judgment on me- faster than his, I imagine.”

“You think yourself rather important, don't you? Enough to have some sort of reputation.”

Anora sighs and stands. “Yes, Inspector. I do think that because it's true. My actions can have dire consequences and I'm aware of them. Just as you. However, I don't plan on wielding that for personal gain, so let me speak with him or don't. But please, let's not waste each other's mornings.”

Lestrade takes a long moment to think, working his jaw, staring her so uncomfortably in the face that Anora has to fight the urge to look away. But she doesn't. 

“Alright. I'll give you a few minutes. He's due for his walk, anyhow.”

Lestrade begins to walk further into the station, so Anora follows.

“His walk?”

“You and I are both well aware that I am not the ultimate voice when it comes to decisions, and those who are, are particularly partial to bribes. I'll say this for the professor: he spends his money on strange favors.”

Anora thinks to ask him what he means, but realizes that she'll likely soon find out.

He leads her back into the holding cells, which Anora is still vaguely familiar with, given that she had spent an afternoon here with Sherlock. But the cell on the end, the larger one, is not sparse like the others. It's furnished nicely, almost comically so, with a proper cot, a desk and oil lamp, and a small stack of books. At the desk sits James, writing intently. Anora watches him for the brief moment she has while he's in this state. Unaware. Like a predator vulnerable in a zoo, unknowing or uncaring that it's being watched. 

Lestrade finds a guard. “Let him out early. He's got a visitor. Keep an especially close eye on him.”

The guard nods. James finishes his writing, replaces the pen to its font, and blows lightly on the paper to dry the ink, before folding it and placing it carefully within one of the books.

“Professor?” The guard calls. “We're taking you out early. You've got a visitor.”

Anora realizes that Lestrade has been lingering next to her and she wonders why. When James retrieves his coat from a hook and turns to put it on, he sees her. He freezes. For the first time, he's caught off guard. Anora takes small pride in that.

“Well,” he says, finally slipping his other arm into the coat sleeve. “Good morning, dear Anora.”

At this, Lestrade nods and leans in to Anora. 

“Let me know if you need anything, alright?”

He suddenly sounds very serious and as he departs Anora realizes why he had stayed. He wanted to see how James would react, whether he'd be composed or volatile. It isn't a well thought out consideration, since James plays any emotion close to his chest, but it's a consideration nonetheless.

The guard goes to the cell door and unlocks it a bit too casually for Anora's liking, considering the man inside. James approaches her cooly; she's still at the opposite end of the row of cells. However, instead of his trademark smirk to make her feel small, he offers her his arm. 

“Shall we go for a walk, my dear?”

With great caution and a look at the guard, who's keeping a safe distance with an intense gaze, Anora loops her arm around James's and they walk from the holding area to the yard. Snow coats the ground but regardless, birds hop around and settle on the benches. Once they're out in the brittle, grey cold, the guard clears his throat.

“The birdseed, sir,” he says, and hands James a small bag. He accepts it with a grin.

“Yes, thank you Benjamin.”

They begin at a leisurely pace, though there isn't much to see, and Anora keeps her eyes either firmly ahead of her or on the ground. Eventually they come to one of the benches, which James brushes the snow from before they sit. He uncurls the top of the bag and scoops birdseed into his hands, then sprinkles it onto the snowy ground. Surprisingly fast, pigeons and doves flock to their feet to peck at their breakfast. Anora finally finds her words.

“I didn't know you liked birds.”

James looks at her and crinkles his brow.

“I never took you to feed birds?”

All Anora can do is shake her head. James hums in thought before he continues. He offers her the bag. 

“I'm not hungry,” she quips, and it feels so strange coming out of her mouth, like an unexpected knee jerk or a forgotten instinct. James laughs loudly, enough to make her jump, and his breath clouds the air. 

“I've missed that,” he says before rolling the top of the bag to seal it again. He sets it beside him and clasps his hands together. He leans forward to watch the birds, his gaze occasionally flicking up to take in the morning London sky. 

“What do you hear?” He asks. Anora shudders in the cold.

“Nothing. I don't know what their decision will be. I have no means of guessing.”

“What do you hope?”

Anora looks at him and frowns.

“That's not fair.”

His eyes look over her face before returning to the birds.

“No, I suppose it's not. Forgive me.”

As if it were easy.

When James places a hand on her knee, Anora starts and looks over her shoulder at the guard, who has remained stationed at the door.

“Oh, I pay him enough to turn a blind eye, but I have no intention of hurting you.”

That doesn't ease Anora's blanking mind or racing heart. His gloved hand lifts and sits atop where hers are clasped in her lap. He leans in and she forces herself not to be afraid. He looks at their hands as he speaks.

“Do you still love me in spite of it?”

Anora, somehow, isn't shocked by the question. 

“Do you, with me, in turn?”

“Would my answer matter, since I am now the one with considerably less to lose?”

“And I more?”

He nods.

“Well, then would my answer feel genuine, since I have to be calculated? Since I have more to lose? Could you trust me?”

His other hand finds the side of her face and gently turns her head to him. 

“Yes, I could. You always knew how to weigh risks.”

He strokes her cheek with his thumb. Anora allows the cold to sting her eyes.

“We're never going to see each other again,” she says. “Whether they hang you or not. That's a decision I'm making.”

He nods in understanding. She hadn't expected him to fight.

“Alright.”

Anora feels like she has more to say but she can't think of it. In her silence, he carefully leans closer and gently kisses her on the forehead. That's as far as he tries to go and Anora is grateful. For the remainder of their final time together, in the frigid cold with the birds cooing around them, she allows him to hold her hand.

A few days later, they have a small, belated birthday gathering for Sherlock. It's the residents of 221 Baker Street, the Watsons, and Mycroft. Anora has Monty driven over, and after Sherlock blows out on the candles on the cake that Mrs. Hudson had baked, Anora brings him in. Mrs. Hudson gasps, Irene claps in glee, and Sherlock stares. Monty sits in the center of the room, thumping his tail against the floor, and looks around. 

“Hey,” Anora whispers to him, and leads him to Sherlock. “Here's your new caretaker. His name is Sherlock, and he seems strange, but he's actually very kind. Sherlock, this is Monty.”

Monty and Sherlock stare at each other. Lizzie, sitting on John's lap, makes a happy sound once she realizes the fluffy dog.

“Well,” Sherlock extends a hand to Monty. “What do you say, Monty?”

Monty lets out a little “bwoof” and presses his shaggy head into Sherlock's awaiting hand. 

An air of celebration takes over the room and Sherlock ends up sitting on the floor with his new companion. Lizzie gets passed to Anora, who cradles her in her lap. She's a little over a month old now and is watching Monty, lifting her arms but keeping her fists curled. 

Likely noticing the warm scene between Anora and Lizzie, Mycroft smiles and stirs the cup of tea in his hands.

“So, Anora, what comes next for you?”

Anora smiles shyly and allows Lizzie to grab onto her fingers.

“Actually…” She looks to Sherlock, who is too absorbed with who is now his new best friend to notice her hesitation. “Obviously I'm going to finish my degree, but Sherlock, Irene, and I were discussing career plans. We thought we'd collaborate on a new agency.”

“Holmes, Adler, and Leeds: Investigative Agency,” Irene says. “I'm not sold on the name, though.”

John looks at Sherlock in surprise. “How much of a fight did you put up?”

“Fight? It was my idea,” Sherlock says and returns to his chair. Monty wanders to Irene now, who scratches behind his ears affectionately. “What's better than having one person do the boring work? Two people. That means that whenever I want to steal you from Mary, we can run amuck.”

Anora shoots Sherlock a mean look. “No, we agreed that the fun would be shared amongst all, and you will be forced to learn the logistical aspects.” She turns back to John. “Honestly, I don't know how you managed it all alone for years.”

“He's just that fond of me,” Sherlock quips. 

The happy chatter in the room nearly drowns out the sound of the doorbell, but Anora still catches it. Mrs. Hudson begins to stand but Anora waves her away.

“I'll get it,” she says as she hands Lizzie to Mary. Straightening out her skirt, Anora goes downstairs to the front door. When she opens it, a quick burst of cold air makes its way inside, and at the door stands a young courier.

“Afternoon, ma'am,” he says, his cheeks red from the cold. He's young, but more than that, he seems nervous, fidgety.

“Afternoon,” she greets warily. “May I help you?”

The young man thrusts an envelope towards her.

“It's the verdict, ma'am. Detective Holmes requested it be delivered here as soon as it was determined.”

Anora's eyes stick to the envelope and it isn't until the young man moves his hand again that she gets the idea to take it from him. Her fingers move like stone as she holds the paper in her hands. She thanks him, he bows quickly before sprinting away. She closes the door. Sits on the steps.

To 221b Baker Street

Attn: Detective Holmes, Ms. Leeds, Ms. Adler, Doctor Watson, Mycroft Holmes

Anora almost considers herself lucky that it was her who answered the door. If it had been anyone else, maybe they'd have immediately opened it and read its contents. Then, she'd have to hear, have to know. But on the steps, with the featherlight envelope in her hands, Anora only stares at it.

She must be missing for some time, because the stairs creak behind her and she turns to see Sherlock coming around the landing. He looks from her face to the letter in her lap.

“I didn't know you requested to have it sent,” she says quietly. Sherlock leans against the bannister.

“I thought it would be easier if we all heard together, at once. No room for surprise or being blindsided. Have you opened it?”

Anora shakes her head. “No. Honestly, I don't want to. Not right now, at least. It's not going away, so it can wait. Is that alright with you? If we just let ourselves have this time?”

Sherlock lends a hand to help Anora up and she takes it. She extends the letter to him, but he shakes his head.

“You hold onto it. We'll read it later. Yes, I think we can have this time. You're right. It's not going to change.”

Anora nods mutely and slips the letter into the pocket of her skirt. Sherlock puts a hand on her shoulder, hesitates, then pulls her into and embrace. Any pride and inhibitions gone, Anora presses her face to the front of his shirt and locks her arms around him. 

“No matter what happens, we'll live on. We'll be here, together. We'll be safe and life will go on.”

She nods against him. After a few more moments, once she feels calm enough, they pull apart. When they return upstairs, John watches them in curiosity and Irene tries to pry information from Sherlock, who gives her a quick explanation. She stops asking after that.

They'll reckon with it. Whether it's a prison sentence or a hanging, it'll find a way to creep into Anora's veins and her mind and her heart, and it'll hurt, but she also knows that she has a room of friends- of family. Anora begins to recognize that what Irene had said was correct. No matter what happens, she has them. And for the first time since Joseph's death, Anora Leeds finally feels at home.

[ddivilove]

𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄 | 𝐄.𝐕.

𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊 ➜ yes, you read the title. Name is finally going to have short lived freedom. double update this week? maybe?? other parts in masterlist one.

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 ➜ none!

Her eyes flung open as she looked around. A worried expression came to her face as she looked around. Her body felt fragile and she felt as if she could topple over any time soon. Bodies spread around the cold dark area. It seemed that she was in the middle of nowhere.

A fake cough was heard as she turned to reveal the Cardinal, his crimson eyes shimmering with excitement at the sight of her. Due to this she recalled the conversation beforehand and remembered that he had wanted to make her a dead corpse and fast.

"You..." She started only to notice his tight grip at his sword handle. One small strike and she'd die on the spot. But he was a cardinal was he not? He wouldn't dare kill an innocent life? Ah, there was when she realized innocent meant his people. He knew her as a monstrous emperor's youngest child. Of course he'd assume her bad.

Perion stared at her intensely, sword in hand. Upon realizing that the female was now very afraid of him. He let the sword go and gave a sheepish expression. "My apologies, my lady. You must've thought I was about to kill you." He walked towards her. Every step ringing in her ears as her eyes met with his own. Her body suddenly gave a kick of energy as she tried standing up quickly, only to stumble once more. The poison's effects were still strong so it seemed. Her body could not cooperate with what her mind and heart desired. "Are you alright?" He inquired as he knelt to check her for injuries.

In a sudden movement, he swept her off the ground as he carried her bridal style. Her weak body held enclosed in his arms, head against his warmth. It felt warmer now much to her embarrassment.

"Where are we going?" Her soft fragile voice stunned the male as he just stood there processing her words. "Perion...?" He looked at her blankly then realized his actions and flushed.

"Somewhere quiet and safe for you, Your Highness." Oh. So he wanted to take her somewhere she could not be in danger then? Her mind thought this sweet and caring but...a part of her told her to continue to be as cautious. A person's true intentions can never be determined at first glance thus she needed to be on guard for any...distasteful instances made by the male or anyone relating to him. He had led them to a horse that he which mounted; him on the back while she sat in front of him. Though it was still he who controlled the reins of course.

The night lingered on as they rode through the woods. Her eyes drooping once more as she felt consciousness slipping. Fast asleep in his arms, Perion gave a small laugh. For someone who had been unconscious for say twenty hours, she was still in the need of losing consciousness once more. A smile curled on his lips as he continued onwards.

Arriving at long last to a cottage in the middle of the woods which was incredibly hidden and difficult to find. It was on his account the best place to keep a hunted down princess. He placed her down gently on the soft mattress of a large bed. A silent goodbye was given as he ran off into the night. He had to make it back before suspicions would be made of where he had been all this time. He took a moment of course to write a small note to where he'd gone and when he'd be back. Also instructions on where to get food and things as the such.

He hoped it wouldn't be that hard. Since there was a village nearby if he did not arrive sooner than he said in the note, he told her in it to get money from the drawer and just buy from there. Thus he also left a horse for her in the stable behind the cottage. One quiet enough to not gain any attention towards this peculiar spot.

After all this he fled towards the empire's area, where a certain male was going half mad with fury.

"Perion. About time you grace us with your presence." Eros practically spat, voice ever so filled with venom as his eyes were ablaze in anger.

"I apologize for being quite late everyone. As you know someone did make me go all the way to the other side of the empire." His red eyes met with those grey ones as his mouth gave a smile. "Well then. Why is everyone in such a panicked state?"

"The princess has been lost." Eros' eyes flicked at him, annoyed at his carelessness. "You wouldn't have anything to do with it, do you?" His suspicious attitude gave fuel to the other's amusement.

"Now why would you assume such a thing? I was on the other side of the empire, how could I possibly do such a thing?" The prince only gave a scoff at this and turned away to attend to other suspects. Perion, on the other hand, laughed inside as he did have something to do with it, but not what Eros would except.

In the cottage a female awoke refreshed as she felt the unfamiliar feeling of peace. Her body felt...at peace once more. Something she lost the moment she entered this empire.

Something she thanked Perion for giving her.

⟢ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ‹𝟹

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