#and i have other fears for the game that were amplified by the shock of the chibi style

[kittyfrisk9]

IdeaDpxDc: A nice moment with a sleep demon.

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, so please use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

Dead On Main.

---

Danny accidentally absorbed some of Nocturn's powers (like in the Vortex episode), and now, with these new temporary abilities, why not take advantage of them? Like a kid with a new toy, Danny (or should I say Phantom: with a new design) has fun every night going from dream to dream.

The dream world is so strange! Without the constant threat of a dream entity trying to take over the world and all that. Now he has fun exploring the most unusual parts of his classmates' subconscious, or anyone's in general.

Even though he knows he shouldn't be doing this (after all, he's a responsible adult now), spying on other people's dreams isn't exactly something a mature person would do.

On the other hand, Danny is the responsible adult; Phantom is the one who uses his new powers recklessly. Plus, no one in Gotham knows who Phantom is, and at the end of the day, he's not hurting anyone. Point in his favor!

It was all fun and games… until he felt it: the unpleasant taste of a nightmare, distressing and desperate. Phantom knows he has to intervene, because, unlike Nocturn, he does not delight in the suffering of others.

So he goes. And what he sees shocks him.

Resonant laughter of a psychopath, the constant pain of flesh being beaten, and the devastating reminder that no one came to help. Phantom doesn't just see it, he feels it. Gross. What is this? Why would anyone be hurting a child? Then he understands: this is not just a nightmare, it's a memory, and someone is suffering from reliving it.

He absolutely will not allow this nightmare to continue.

...

Jason hasn't been having good days lately, mostly because instead of going to therapy, he's chosen to sweep his trauma under the rug and aggressively throw himself into crime-fighting. He's not good at dealing with his emotions, especially when he's been tormented by the same damn nightmare over and over again.

He knows the script by heart, he knows how it will end, but he still feels the same fear as the first time.

His head hurts.

"No, not again," he thinks in terror. Once again, he's tied up, unable to move or call for help. It's colder than he remembers. The walls have a grotesque tint, with laughter written in every corner. But the worst thing is the silence… until the sound of clashing metal begins to resonate.

Everything is a thousand times worse. He's sure the original scenario wasn't like this, but his terrified mind refuses to accept it.

The metallic sound resonates louder, each crash rumbling in Jason's chest. His breathing quickens, and then he hears it: that laugh.

A deep, distorted echo of laughter that seems to come from every direction. The laughter snakes around the grotesque walls, filled with the same letters that repeat his agony. “Ha… ha… ha…” fills the air, louder with each invisible step that approaches.

Then, he appears.

It’s not the Joker he remembers from that fateful night. This one is worse. Bigger, more deformed, with a smile that seems to tear at his own face. The colors of his suit are darker, more twisted. It’s as if his mind has amplified him, made him more monstrous.

“My, my, how little Robin has grown? But… something remains the same, doesn’t it? No matter how many times you live it, it always ends the same way. And to think that you were my greatest work of art!”

His voice is mocking, but behind the mockery is pure cruelty, a wicked amusement that lights up in those crazy eyes.

The Joker leans towards Jason, his face invading the small distance between them. The sound of metal continues to echo, and Jason knows what's coming next.

"Oh, I almost forgot…" he says, pulling out of nowhere an iron crowbar that gleams in the dim light of the nightmare. "It wouldn't be a good memory without this, would it?"

That's when the pain begins. Jason doesn't want to scream, and he won't. Even though that abominable creature is just a representation of his killer, he won't give him the luxury of listening to him suffer. The blows continue, and Jason bites his tongue. It's just a nightmare, it's not real… it's not real.

It's not real.

It's not real.

It's not-

"Hey… Are you okay?" he hears him ask. His shocked gaze turns to where the clown should be and discovers that he's gone. In his place, there's a handsome young man: short, slightly messy black hair, expressive purple eyes, and a body almost completely shrouded in dark shadows.

The mysterious man had a cosmic air about him, surrounded by a mix of special effects of stars and galaxies. Something magical.

And new.

Jason honestly doesn't know what he's seeing, or why he's seeing it. "What?" he says, unable to find another word to describe his situation.

The entity laughs at his stunned state, a reassuring echo very different from the joker's laughter. Then he snaps his fingers, and suddenly he's no longer in that ugly room. He's now in a field of flowers, beautiful and vibrant, looking out at a starry sky.

Okay, this is the part where he asks his brain how he went from being in a nightmare to being with a handsome guy under the stars, hands free and untethered.

"Relax, you're not crazy," the being says as he lies back in the grass. “You were in pain, and I didn’t like it, so I got you out of there. Don’t worry, that abomination won’t bother you again.”

Jason blinks twice, bewildered, not understanding anything. “You… saved me?”

“You could say yes.”

“Why?” He shakes his head. “No, wait, that’s not the question. Who…?” Looking back at the being, he decides to change his question: “What are you?”

He seems to have taken the being by surprise.

It clasps its hands together as it looks up at the sky, trying to act normal. Jason narrows his eyes. “You can call me Void.”

“Did you just make up that name?”

The being looks away, seemingly embarrassed at being found out. “Yeah…” And suddenly exclaims, “Ah, ancients! I'm not supposed to be doing this, much less with one of the bats."

That last sentence had given away more than it should have.

"Hey, how about we admire the night view and then pretend this never happened?" Void suggested with a hopeful smile, turning to Jason.

Maybe it was the soft scent of the flowers, the calm atmosphere, or just the tiredness after so many nights of endless nightmares, but Jason, without thinking too much about it, walked over, lay down next to Void on the grass, and said, "No."

He needed a break.

...

And that's how Jason befriended a dream demon. And how Danny pretended to be a dream demon until Nocturn's powers wore off. He couldn't let the bats find out his identity.

After that, they spent more time together, fell in love, there was drama and there was closure. In the middle of all that, Danny started having tea with Alfred in the dream world, and at other times, he had fun bothering the other bats in their dreams.

But that's another story.

---

Note: Sorry, I don't know English, so please use a translator. I apologize if you don't get the idea.

Part 2

[roosterr]

white flag ✹ proglogue

note: can't believe i'm actually writing for ghost, yes he was the reason i got into cod, but i havent thought about him since like january lol. has this trope already been done? yes. am i doing it anyway? also yes.

pairing: ghost x gn!reader

wc: 2.2k

no use of y/n readers callsign is 'stingray'

summary: if there's one constant in your life, it's that ghost doesn't like you, so when your house burns down and you have no choice but to move in with him, it feels like your life is on a steady downhill spiral.

warnings: slowburn, some angst, your house burns down, ghost is mean, sort of enemies to friends to lovers

ao3

【next】

it's been almost a year since you'd joined the taskforce. nearly twelve months of gruelling hard work, and not for a single second had lieutenant ghost treated you with a shred of familiarity. at first, you thought he'd get over it, that he'd get past his obvious trust issues and warm up to you eventually, but you quickly gave up on that idea.

clearly, you'd been too optimistic.

which was unfortunate, considering how much you'd come to care for the prickly bastard, no matter how dismissive he was of you. it started slow; when you were first recruited, you held a great deal of respect for him because of his reputation, and you'd naively even looked forward to working with him. when you discovered his less than friendly demeanour, to say you were disheartened would be an understatement. he was withdrawn and stoic, never sparing you so much as a passing glance and a barked order,  whether you were in the field or not.

the other sergeants had assured you that he wasn't as cold as he comes across; soap and gaz both told you how he'd acted the same towards them when they first met – he was a lone wolf, not used to having to look out for teammates.

the more time you spent on missions with him, the more you saw of the person beneath the hard exterior. you saw how he seemed to know everyone's strengths and weaknesses, things you never would've picked up on. he always made sure the team had eaten, disguised as a gruff order to stay on your game. when he got angry, it would be because someone put themselves in danger, not because they screwed up the mission. you saw someone who'd been through hell and come out the other side swinging.

before, you'd respected ghost as a soldier and your superior, but now, after spending so much time with him, your perspective of him has changed. he intrigued you; he's quiet, introverted but not shy, more observant than you could imagine, and so closely guarded you wondered if he'd ever be able to open up. you'd only heard whispers of the things he'd been through in the past, so despite his obvious animosity towards you, you treated him with the respect you thought he deserved – like a person, and you'd hoped that with time, he could see you as more than just a soldier too. though he still didn't like you, you liked to think that the two of you have come to some sort of understanding.

and that leads you to your problem; you wanted to know him. every tiny crack in his facade made you more and more curious about the man behind the mask – about simon, rather than ghost, but from what you could tell, he didn't hold the same sentiment about you. where he would banter back and forth with the others over comms, he'd fall silent whenever you join in. every minute little mistake was amplified to him, you've lost count of the amount of times he's berated you for things he's excused for others. it made your heart ache that you just couldn't win with him, and you feared you'd never understand why.

but now, as you sit shivering with a shock blanket wrapped around your shoulders, watching the smouldering remains of what was your home in the middle of the night, freezing and exhausted, you'd never felt more hated.

you could hear them, ghost and the captain, talking in hushed voices a little ways down the road from where you sit. they probably think they're being subtle, discussing what to do with you like you're not even there, like every single one of your worldly possessions hadn't just gone up in smoke, but you hear them as if they're standing right in front of you.

"i wouldn't do this if there were any other options, simon."

"there are plenty of other options, just stick 'em in a hotel for god's sake."

"there's no hotels close enough to base – it'll only be temporary, 'till we can find 'em somewhere else."

"fuckin' hell, why cant they go with one of the others?"

"soap and gaz are already flatmates, you live alone and you're the closest to base. this is the only option that makes sense."

"i'm not fuckin' happy about this, price."

their profiles are momentarily illuminated by the blue lights from the fire engine parked nearby, allowing you for a second to see the withering glare ghost is sending your way, and all of a sudden the last couple hours of emotional distress is crashing down on you; his obvious distaste for you combined with the toll of watching your house literally burning down was too much for you all at once. you could feel the tears start to spill over again, but you can’t find the strength to stop them and just bring the shock blanket closer to your face. you’d lost everything, and even now he couldn’t find it in himself to feel an ounce of compassion for you? why can’t he care for you like he does the others? like you do for him?

as your watery gaze drops to the soot and ash covering your pyjamas, a voice sounds from beside you, the opposite direction from price and ghost. you don’t even realise you’re hyperventilating until they lay a hand on your shoulder and rub soothing circles into your back.

“hey– hey, it’s okay,” it’s gaz, you notice in the back of your mind, sitting on the curb next to you. you squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to block out the world around you, and gaz brings you closer into his embrace. “you’ll be alright, we’ll get everything sorted, yeah?”

"i– i don't– i can't–" you try to speak, but you can't seem to form a coherent sentence through your sobbing.

"it's alright, just breathe for me." gaz hugs you tighter again, your head coming to rest on his shoulder as he consoles you. for a few minutes you stay like that, your breathing eventuslly returning to normal and the tears slowing to a stop.

price and ghost are still arguing, but you can't hear what they're saying anymore; probably for the best, if you had to listen to ghost complain about you for one more second you might really have a breakdown.

soap's voice cuts through the fog in your mind, "managed to find this, thought ya' might want it." you look up to find him crouching in front of you and holding out a slightly singed photo, a weak smile on his face. "frame's broken, but the picture's still mostly fine."

you take it from him, fingers grasping the card gently as you turn it around to look at the picture. it's from a few years ago, you and your friends from your previous unit, smiling into the camera as if you had no worries at all. staring at the ghosts of your friends starts you crying again, clutching the photo to your chest and leaning back into gaz's shoulder. if anything could've survived the blaze, you're grateful it was this. gaz rubs your arm sofly, whispering comforting words to you again.

you hear another set of footsteps approach and look up again to see price now standing in front of you as well. it's not exactly surprising, but ghost is nowhere to be seen.

"ambulance is here," price says, offering you a hand and pulling you to your feet when you take it. "i'll follow behind to the hospital, one of you two take their car to simon's."

you nod and retrieve your car keys from your jacket pocket, thankful you'd had the mind to grab it on your way out in your frantic state.

"I've got a bag in the boot, it's got some clothes in it." you mutter, handing the keys to soap, who smiles and gives you a pat on the shoulder.

"no bother, i'll grab it for ya." he says, and jogs off to where your car was parked, thankfully untouched out of reach of the fire. he returns not a minute layer carrying your duffle of emergency supplies, something you never thought would actually come in handy.

before you know it you're waving gaz and soap goodbye, the paramedics are guiding you to the back of the ambulance, and you're leaving what remains of your old home in the rear-view mirror.

✹✹✹

you hated hospitals. it was a fact, and it had been that way since you were a child, everything about them just made your skin crawl. perhaps you inherited the feeling from your mother; she always managed to bring up her distaste for the place whenever the topic arose. or, maybe you only hated them because they scared you.

either way, the relief you felt as you stepped out of the front door into the car park with price trailing behind you was palpable. he falls into step next to you as the two of you make your way over to where he parked, his keys jingling as he fishes them from his pocket.

"we're puttin' you up with simon for the time being, 'till we can get you somewhere else." his words make you wince; you already knew he was going to say that, but it didn't stop the anxiety from bubbling up in your chest.

"i heard." a beat of silence passes before you continue. "how long will that take?" you ask, climbing into the passenger seat and dropping your bag at your feet as price settles into the driver's side.

"i wouldn't get your hopes up. might be quicker to wait for 'em to rebuild your old place." he flashes you a smile, but you can't find it in yourself to return the gesture.

"right."

neither of you say another word as he starts the engine and pulls out of the car park. you turn to look out the window, watching the world go by, the quiet rambling of the radio serving as white noise in the background. it's the early hours of the morning now, the sun would be up in a few hours and you'd have to go back to work already – price did say you could have the day off, but honestly the last thing you wanted was to sit around all day with nothing to do but overthink.

after nearly ten minutes of trying to ignore it, the worry playing at your mind becomes too much to keep to yourself.

"you know he hates me, right?" you utter, half expecting price to ignore your question all together.

he clicks his tongue. "he doesn't hate you," price replies, and his voice sounds reassuring but it doesn't bring you much comfort.

"okay, well, he doesn't like me either." you turn your head to look at him, raising your brows. rolling to a stop at a red light, he meets your eyes and huffs.

"alright, he can be difficult–"

"really?"

"–but i promise you, he doesn't hate you." he says. you give him a disbelieving look, and he sighs, looking back to the road as the light turns green. "give him a chance, alright?"

"is he gonna give me a chance?" 

"he will." price says firmly, sparing you a look as he drives down the quiet road. "and if he doesn't, you'll knock some sense into him, eh?"

"sure…" you mutter, looking back out the window and falling back into silence. its only a few minutes until he's pulling over to the side of the road, outside the house number you know to be ghost's.

"sting," price calls out, stopping you as you reach for the door handle, "he'll come around, alright?"

"it's been a year, cap. i don't think he will." you reply, and before he can say anything else you open the door and step out into the night air, grabbing your bag from your feet before closing the door again. you give price a half-hearted wave as he pulls away again, before turning around and gazing up at your – temporary – new home.

it was nice, all things considered; a standard terrace on the end of the row, but the size has you wondering if there was even room for you to stay here. though it's not as if you have a choice. all the lights were off, which had you hopeful that you wouldn't run into ghost just yet.

you drag yourself to the front door, your eyes stinging from the effort of keeping them open, and twist the handle as quietly as possible, closing it behind you and cringing at the clunk it makes. thankfully ghost didn't hate you enough to lock you out for the night, something you actually wouldn't put past him considering how he feels about you.

there's a small side table in the entryway that catches your attention. on top of it sits your car keys – you make a mental note to thank soap in the morning – a new key, and a note. you pick up the paper, using the torch from your phone to examine the scratchy handwriting.

living room's yours. lock the door. – s

it's more than you expected from him. you sigh to yourself and pick up the other key, locking the door and shuffling into the small living room. the pull-out bed is made up for you, albeit quite messily, and you waste no time in dropping your stuff and laying your head down on the lumpy pillow.

with any luck, this arrangement wouldn't last long, but in the meantime you got the feeling you were in for a bumpy ride.

[jerzwriter]

Falling for You

Book: Open Heart (Book 3 Timeline) Pairing: Tobias Carrick x F!MC (Casey) Rating: Teen Words: 1,100 Summary: Ice skating has always been a big part of Casey's life, and for the eight months they had been together, she kept saying how much she was looking forward to doing it with Tobias. He tried to put it off as long as he could, but the day of reckoning was upon him... and panic set in. Could a quick call to his best friend, Kerry, calm his nerves? Or is Tobias about to fall flat. A/N: First and foremost, thank you to @weetlebeetle for this adorable commission of my little lovebirds. This is so precious, and I just adore it! Those of you familiar with some of my older fics may remember Kerry, Tobias's lifelong friend. Information about her and other OCs in my Tobias x Casey HC can be found here. She was instrumental in helping him and Casey get together, and she thought her work was done. Well... maybe not. lol

His fingers tapped against the coffee table, the dull thud echoing throughout his empty home. But it wasn't enough to release the nervous energy he was feeling, and before long, he was on his feet, pacing the length of the room.    

“Come on, come on! I know you’re off... answer!”

To the shock of many, Tobias Carrick had proven he could be a patient man, and it had paid off dearly, playing a big part in how he was happily coupled with the love of his life today. Casey. The mere thought of her usually brought a smile, but right now, it only amplified the fear coursing through his veins. He needed someone to help him through, and his best friend was the only one he trusted with the job. But his patience was wearing thin as he tried to reach her. About to disconnect the call, he finally heard her voice.

“T?” Kerry answered breathlessly. “What’s going on? You OK?”

“Thank God!” He exclaimed. “Where have you been?”

“At Brenda’s soccer game. I told you she was playing today.”

“Ah! That’s right,” he said, smacking his head. “I forgot; why don’t you get back to her.”

“Because after ten missed calls and as many texts saying ‘CALL ME,’ I assume you have something important going on. So, spill.”

Tobias fell back onto the couch with a sigh.  

“I have a big problem... I... I have a date tonight.”

“A date?” Kerry asked quizzically. “What’s so terrible about...” her face fell as she went silent, fearing the worst. “Tobias Charles Carrick... please tell me your date isn’t with someone other than Casey, because if it is, I swear to God I’m going to drive to Boston and kick your ass.”  

“What!” He gasped. “No! Don’t be ridiculous! Of course my date’s with Casey.”

“Good!” she said with relief. “But then what’s the drama? You have a date with your girlfriend, so?”

“Yeah, well... it’s an ice skating date.”

The line went silent again, then Kerry burst into a full belly laugh... not exactly the support or sympathy Tobias was seeking.

“That’s nice! Laugh it up! You won’t be laughing when I make a total ass out of myself, and she dumps me. I’m not stupid. I know you like her better than me.”

“Well, that goes without saying,” Kerry teased while wiping a tear from her eye. “She’s far more likable than you. But what the hell possessed you to go on a skating date?”

He ran his hand down his face with another weary sigh. “Obviously, it wasn’t my idea. But Casey loves skating, and she’s good, really good. Like almost did it competitively when she was younger, good. And I’m....”

“Far more suited for a basketball court. Not gonna lie, T, you suck at ice skating.”

“Thank you.”

“What? I’m just stating facts. The time we went skating on Mr. Belmont’s pond remains one of my most horrifying childhood memories. I thought for sure we were going to lose you that day; little did I know you’d end up sending your brother to the emergency room instead.”

“Hey! In my defense, if that idiot hadn’t been trying to make me fall, he wouldn’t have ended up with my skate blade in his thigh.”

“Jordan can’t help being obnoxious," Kerry laughed. "It’s a Carrick family trait.”

“All well and good, but the last thing I want to do is impale Casey tonight."

"Really?" Kerry chided. "And here I thought that was usually your goal?"

"Very funny, Ker. I'm being serious here! I don’t want her realizing the error of her ways and kicking me to the curb.”

“For the love of God, Tobias... do you hear yourself? Do you think you may be exaggerating just a little? It’s ice skating. Take a deep breath, and just go and have fun.”

“But what if I fall on my face?”

“So what if you do? That’s part of what makes it fun. Just relax and enjoy the time together. Knowing Casey, she’d probably find you falling all over the ice endearing.”

“You think so?”

“YES! As hard as it is to believe, she loves you for you... not your ability to qualify for the 2026 Winter Olympics.”

“You’re right,” he surrendered, his heart feeling lighter.

“I usually am. Now, just go and have fun. Let me know how it went later.”

Buoyed by Kerry’s words, Tobias set off for his date, and just hours later, they sat at the side of a beautiful rink just outside of Boston. Casey grinned from ear to ear as she laced up her skates, oblivious to her boyfriend’s inner turmoil.

“I’m so excited,” she beamed. “I’ve been waiting to do this with you since we started dating! I love sharing the things I love with you."

“Yeah,” he chuckled nervously. “I do, too.”   He pulled the laces tightly around his ankle, hoping against hope that a skate malfunction would spare him, but when he realized that wasn’t to be, he took her hand to confess. “Case... I’ve gotta tell you something.”

“Sure,” she smiled. “What’s up?”

“I... I kind of suck at this. I haven’t gone skating since I was twelve years old, and that time, I sent Jordan to the ER.”

Casey’s eyes widened, "You did?" she asked, her melodious laugh filled the air. She placed her gloved hands on his frigid cheeks and pulled him in for a tender kiss.

“Tobias, skating skills really aren’t high up on my list of traits I find desirable in my partner. Let’s just go and have fun, baby. That’s all I want to do.”

They took to the ice hand-in-hand, and while Tobias stumbled and fell throughout the afternoon, he wasn’t embarrassed. Instead, they laughed, teased, and shared a whole lot of kisses. He felt foolish for worrying so much, and the date served as a reminder that the best memories are those made when we let go of fears and enjoy time with the ones we love.

Hours later, they were toasty warm in his car as they headed back to Boston. Smiling as she recalled the day, Casey rested her head on his shoulder.

“That wasn’t so bad after all, was it?” she smiled.

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Still, I don’t think it’s something you’ll want to do too often,” she grinned.

“But you love skating,” he replied. “And if you love it, then I’ll love going with you.”

“You don’t have to,” she assured. “There are plenty of other things I love doing with you. I got you on skates once; that's all that matters.”

As she said that, a little lightbulb went off Tobias’s head, and a tiny grin came to his lips. “Yeah.  At least we got to do it once.”

~~~~~

A/N 2: Tobias recalls that he knows someone else who skates really well... and right now, his wheels are spinning. More to come! :)

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @choicesholidays (solely because it's winter-themed! :)

[ebitenpura]

I keep thinking of how Watcher 2 goes uh, Cipher, there were no ghosts in the Dark Temple, which genuinely baffled both me and Eight, because she's completely sincere about it. Like you don't believe in ghosts but you believe in guys who shoot lightning and lift things with their minds...? What do you think made those people go insane then, a gas leak?

It's actually pretty typical within SWTOR for Imperials not to question superstitious matters or anything related to the Force either out of purposeful lack of knowledge, unwillingness to believe in it given how technologically advanced the Empire is and so they defer to science, or plain fear of the unknown and everything associated with the Force, but it's always a bit of an interesting shock seeing where particular officers lines lie about it. In Watcher 2's case, spirits do not exist. Regardless of the walking specter who made your personnel be in pain for no reason a few hours prior, cough.

Eight's the rare example of an Imperial who is immediately ready to accept and understand these outlying forces so he definitely believed there were spirits and other things at work, but more than that, I headcanon that Jadus sent him into the Dark Temple alone not just as a test of skill, but to test if their Force bond had manifested and would protect him from its malicious influences. In which case, it absolutely did and the agent emerges unscathed from the Temple of babbling soldiers. This also minorly awakens Eight's potential to see the world through Jadus' eyes, and so he has proof of the mysticism that other Imps refuse to accept-- another point that most likely makes investigative branches like the IRS looked down upon.

In other words, though he can't affect such things and is more Force-blind than Theron, Eight has become a medium of sorts because of his powerful connection to Jadus that leaves a mark on his being and has the willingness to quite literally open his mind to these forces. This makes him more attuned to odd situations that involve the Dark Side while retaining a self that is utterly mundane, so he acts as a sort of middle-man between the world of Sith and Imperials: the perfect union of the force and force-blind.

In the basic class story, it hasn't manifested fully but by the time of KOTFE/ET, it takes a dramatic spike in power because of Valkorion's influence and the extreme growth he and Jadus forced on each other in order to win that final battle. This is explained in-game as Valkorion leaving the ability to use the Force or amplifying it after the expacs, but Eight will never have the ability to use it, and I have no intention of ridding him of being normal despite all the ways he isn't. However, Eight and Jadus pull out all the stops to defeat the former Emperor and this nearly kills the former-- he collapses immediately after the two Sith have a psychic battle in his head and his vitals flatline, to which Lana and Theron panic. Then, Jadus himself finally appears in the flesh and whisks his Hand away. The two Alliance directors are unable to stop him, weak as they are by the battle, and no sign is found of either Eight or Jadus when the dust clears.

Eight is found weeks later in a hidden facility with no recollection of what happened prior, though he's purposefully vague about his "savior", and what happened between them. When Lana touches him, she feels a shock-- and realizes it's Eight, who she feels all the more keenly through the Force. He realizes this too, and those eyes that bore into her now look past her vestige into the depths of her soul. It feels like someone else is there. She cuts off the temporary connection immediately, the sense of wrongness remaining.

Eight still isn't force-sensitive. Nothing registers even when they test him.

And yet, no one can explain how he sees things he shouldn't, and how it's even possible for him to connect with others in this way. They leave it as another mystery surrounding the agent with no name.

[ozziedawn]

Alright let’s talk about the pokemon games

I’ve got a lot of conflicting feelings. my immediate reaction to the chibi art style of bdsp was one of shock and disgust. it wasn’t at all what i, and i feel comfortable saying we as pokemon fans, wanted. it felt like a slap in the face. it felt like massive disrespect. it felt like game freak knew they could get away with anything, because people are going to buy pokemon games no matter what. this led me on a spiral of conjecturing in what other ways the game would horrendously disappoint me. i went through the five stages of grief, and settled on “okay, i’ll wait until we know more about to pass any more judgement.”

then i watched the trailer again.

The art style sucks, y’all.

It feels totally inappropriate in tone for sinnoh, given the whole “villain who wants to bind space and time to create a world without spirit” bit. It takes away one of the biggest things i was looking forward to in d/p remakes in the idea of d/p characters getting to be as expressive as gen 7/8 characters. the lighting and shading looks pretty bad on a technical level. the h a n d s. god seriously. look at chibi dawn’s hands. cursed.

but it’s also early in development. so i’m just gonna hope that they clean up the graphics and give us cutscenes with the full models when Important Things Happen (game freak if you make me watch these plastic funko pop chibi models play out the events of spear pillar i will never forgive you), and hope that they meet my other wishlist criteria:

-The National Dex (given that the original game has the national dex featuring poke radar and swarm encounters, this feels essential to me in terms of faithfully recreating the postgame)

-Home connectivity (this feels almost certain to me in some form, given that it’s the same studio, but only time will tell what degree of connectivity it has)

-Compatibility with past-gen pokemon (one of the best things about oras was bringing my pokemon from emerald to new hoenn, and i’d really like to do the same for new sinnoh)

-Compatibility with Sw/Sh, including a patch for Sw/Sh that introduces the pokemon from BD/SP not in Sw/Sh now (this is the least seemingly likely but probably my most wanted feature)

All of which is to say, please just let me poke radar for a mareep and trade an ampharos into sw/sh. if that’s possible, i’ll be happy with these games.

anyway legends: arceus looks cool huh

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing vii.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 4, 627

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

Despite being friends with three (well, now four) people on the football team—you didn’t fancy attending football games at all. It was highly unlike the usual scene you were comfortable with. It was loud, rowdy and people didn’t understand the concept of personal space when they’d shove and push others aside just to get a better glimpse of the players on the field.

Yet, you attended every single one of the football games—and you were a familiar enough face that the coach smiles at you when you hover outside the changing rooms; a simple request from the captain himself.

You’re a little shocked at yourself at the fact that you had no idea who Namjoon was prior to his introduction. He was the captain of the current football team, which apparently, throughout your college’s history—brought the most wins ever. And, he was also well-known that lecturers applauded him for his impeccable work-to-life balance.

Somehow, the divulgence of your own thoughts makes you frown. Because perhaps you were truly anti-social. You weren’t even acquainted with common school affairs in spite of being apart of the student council.

Maybe Jungkook was right.

You don’t dwell too much on your thoughts because you’re unable to, not when the door slams open and bodies of college men pour out with large shouts and their padded shoulders—looking very much prepared for their game.

The anxiety settles into the pit of your stomach when you realise you stick out like a sore thumb. The jeans and white top you were wearing was quite a typical outfit to wear to a game, with the addition of ironically—a baseball jacket. But when you were definitely smaller than the footballers; it was hard not to feel out of place.

Especially when they look you over before continuing out to the field. While you attended games before, you were never asked to meet in the changing rooms. Jimin and Taehyung knew well enough not to ask you, and Jungkook … well. You were always his dirty little secret, weren’t you?

And you see Jungkook first, grinning like a madman when another footballer brings him into a headlock and hollers something you assume is their hype-cheer.

It isn’t supposed to feel like this. Things were meant to have been settled, but the tight feeling in your chest when you look at him only reminds you that some things were hard to erase.

Before you can look away, Jungkook spots you—and he pushes the arms of his teammate off ever so slightly before turning to him and muttering a few words before he’s stalking towards you.

Your eyes widen, definitely not expecting him to pay you any mind.

“You’re here?” He furrows his brows.

You clear your throat, and you realise navigating a conversation with him after what’s transpired is much harder than you expected it to be. The fact that he was so casual about it when he left you with a kiss on your forehead makes you even more conflicted.

“I am.” You mumble. “I told you, remember?”

Jungkook blinks as if he remembers something, and his expression hardens ever so slightly before he’s schooling his features.

“Yeah.” He breathes. “I knew that. Just didn’t know you’d be … here.”

Here was probably referring to standing outside the changing rooms, and you can’t help but flush at the declaration.

“Um, yeah. Namjoon—” Before you can finish your sentence, you see the captain heading towards you with a large grin; looking over Jungkook for a brief moment.

“You’re here!” His words are exactly the same as Jungkook’s, but it evokes a different set of emotions in your chest.

You smile as sincerely as you can, which is proven difficult when you can feel Jungkook’s gaze on you.

“I am.” And you repeat the same thing you said to Jungkook. It feels odd, but you push the feelings aside. “Good luck, you.”

You offer a small punch to his shoulder, an awkward attempt at supporting him and you almost apologise but Namjoon smiles even wider.

His hand reaches out to your hair, gently patting it as he looks at you fondly. You don’t think anyone’s ever treated you so … tenderly before, not upfront and after one meeting at least. And you’re definitely flustered.

“Thank you. It means a lot that you’re here.” His dimples are on full show when he looks down at you with a kind gaze.

You clear your throat and look away, hoping the dim lights didn’t amplify the blush on your cheeks.

“Of course. We have that exhibition next to look forward to if all else goes South.” You grin cheekily up at him, words still soft.

You hope that your joke doesn’t rub him the wrong way, and it doesn’t because he snorts in response. All while Jungkook is silent.

“That’s a win itself, isn’t it?” He says smoothly, and your eyes widen at his blatant—or at least you think—flirting.

And before you can splutter a response, Jungkook is nudging Namjoon’s arm with his shoulder, the movement slightly rougher with his shoulder pads in place.

“We gotta go, Cap,” Jungkook says stiffly.

Namjoon doesn’t realise the hostility in his tone, but you do. And you frown ever so slightly, but you cover it up when Namjoon looks over at you with an apologetic expression.

“I’ll see you after the game?” He asks, eyes lighting up.

Your lips tilt upwards and you nod your head.

“Yeah.”

Namjoon jogs off first, not before grabbing his protective gear as Jungkook lingers ever so slightly, stuttering in his feet as you have the vision of his back towards you.

You’re about to head towards the bleachers, a spot that Namjoon purposefully reserved for you with help of his coach; but Jungkook turns around and his face is hesitant.

“Will you …” He swallows as you raise an eyebrow at his uncertainty. “Will you cheer for me?”

The question is odd, especially when you know that he’s aware that you were here for Namjoon. Usually, that would imply that you were rooting for him. But, you’ve never been able to say no to Jungkook. Not even when you want him to feel the same hurt you’ve felt.

“What friends are for, right?” You mumble, eyes darting to the ground for a second until you look back up at him again.

What you don’t say is that friends don’t do the things we did, or that there was no manual to teach you how to navigate the throes of your relationship after everything that’s happened. Nor do you tell Jungkook that you’re always cheering him on, but you can’t do it outwardly. Not tonight. Not for a while, too.

Jungkook’s face falls obscurely, but he forces a tight smile before grabbing his protective gear too.

“I’ll look for you,” Jungkook says.

Then he’s off, with a squeeze to your shoulder that leaves your heart feeling a lot heavier.

You ended up sitting next to the school photographer, who you now know as Yena. Prior to this, you’ve heard the student reporter club have a few intense individuals apart of them—word you heard from Yoongi, the President himself—and he was already as intimidating as one could get. But there was Yena, who essentially made people cower in fear when they’d make eye contact with her.

“What are you doing here?” Is the first thing she asks when you slide into your seat. Her tone isn’t condescending, neither was it purposely made to make you feel uncomfortable. Rather, she asked it in a rather bored tone—as if there were better things she could be doing.

“Um.” You squeak.

Yena rolls her eyes, “Relax. I’m not going to bite your head off despite my grotesque appearance. Ever heard of a conversation starter?”

You blink.

“You’re very pretty.” You say softly.

Yena narrows her eyes at you for what seems like forever as you clear your throat. Then, she snorts before patting you on the shoulder.

“I didn’t mean objectively ugly, sweetheart.”

The tilt of her lips make your ears flush and you never found yourself downright intimidated by someone, but there was something about her that made you want to listen to her.

“O-Oh.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re too nice, _____. Has anyone ever told you that?” She emphasises her point with a tilt of her head.

“N-Not really …” You mumble.

She sighs as she kicks her feet on top of the railings in front of her while her eyes follow the line of footballers that pour onto the field, already moving towards a group huddle.

Her camera is already in her hands when she snaps the shot like second nature, before plopping back into her seat.

“Well, you are. People are gonna eat you alive, you know?” She says pointedly.

You fiddle with your fingers before you find the courage to look at her.

“How did you know who I was?” You wonder out loud with furrowed brows.

Yena scoffs before turning to look at you with a blank expression. And it’s the worst part in you that makes you think that you’ve said something wrong.

“You’re kidding, right?” She deadpans. “Girl who made honours three years in a row? First female student council president? Lecturers pet? Curve-setter? The list goes on, really.”

You flush as you turn your head away.

“I didn’t mean …” You mutter.

She waves you off. “You don’t have to sound so guilty about it. You’re smart and you’re capable. Own it.” She shrugs.

You blink up at her with wide eyes, and for the first time; she properly looks at you and your surprised expression.

“Thank you.” You say softly.

When a whistle blows, the game has somehow started and you have half the mind to begin cheering like the rest of the crowd. But the awkward part of you remains rooted in position.

“So.” Yena leans in with a grin on her face. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

It’s … odd. Purely because you’ve never spoken to her before and you’ve briefly heard about her in passing when you communicate with Yoongi on pastoral affairs. And for someone to speak to you so freely and casually, like you’ve been friends for years—feels nice.

And it’s probably also because you didn’t have any girl friends that you could really trust. People on campus were … they were mean and they usually wanted something from you, whether it was to get to one of your friends or get insights on events so they’d get a boost on their reputation.

“Earth to _____?” She drawls.

You snap your head towards her and your ears turn red once again.

“There’s isn’t … any guy.” You confess.

Yena snorts as if she doesn’t believe you.

“Really now?” Her grin approaches a smile when she rests her chin on her palm. “You know not just anyone sits here, right?”

You shrug. “What about you? Who’s the lucky guy?”

She blinks, then leans back before kicking one leg across her other.

“Photographer pros. Or cons. Especially if you consider watching disgusting men sweat and chase after balls is something to be grateful for.” She rolls her eyes.

You laugh when she complains, and it’s likely the first time you’ve relaxed your shoulders around her.

“That does sound kind of gross.”

She nods her head as if to say right, before offering you a cheeky grin.

Then, her eyes zero onto the field, then back to your face—and eventually back to the field before she hops off her seat once again; waving her camera to signal you that she was going to carry out her duties.

You think Yena’s cool. A little intense, and kind of scary—but a nice person nevertheless. Maybe you were a blind optimist that saw the good in everyone, but there was something about her that you really liked. The kind of person you wish you could become.

The cheers get immensely louder, especially when you note that Jungkook’s scored a goal—his beaming expression displayed on the big screen while you hear girls and guys alike cheering his name.

It’s times like this where you’re reminded of how different you were from him. While he received praise and approval from the masses and was born to be loved by them. You were quite the opposite; the cheerer and the supporter but never quite the one receiving it.

His eyes skim the crowd, and you can see from the screen that his brows furrow ever so slightly. But he’s quick to return to his groove, fist-bumping a teammate along the way.

You sigh because even when you weren’t intentionally looking for him it’s like your heart only wants you to see what’s familiar. And funnily enough, the hurt is familiar too.

In the middle of it all, you try your best to smile—and throw in a small whoop on your own, hoping to blend in but be present enough to be heard.

Yena returns only when it’s half-time, her own body covered in sweat while she huffs, slapping a stray strand of hair away from her face.

“God. You’d think they’d slow down after fifteen minutes but nooo. They have to go flex on their fragile masculinities because they think growling and ripping off their shirts is peak alpha male character.” Yena mutters and it’s the first thing you hear from her.

You offer her a sympathetic smile before digging into your bag and pulling out a handkerchief, one that you always carry around.

“Here.” You smile at her toothily.

Yena eyes the fabric sceptically before looking at your face and back to the handkerchief.

“You sure?”

You nod your head, jutting out your hand once more to emphasise your point.

“Ah. I can see why Namjoon nabbed you up.” Yena coos, ruffling your hair as your eyes widen.

“H-How—?”

“How did I know? Well besides the fact that my job is to literally stick with the team and capture moments and make them look pretty—I’m nosey.” Yena shrugs and your face pales. “Oh, and I saw you guys at the changing room too.”

If she saw … that meant—

“Thought you were with the meathead Jeon for a moment.” Yena snorts.

Your eyes dart down to your lap, and Yena picks up on your silence immediately. But unlike the conventional person; despite her curiousity, she respected your privacy more. So she doesn’t, she just offers you a smile and a nudge to your shoulder.

“Don’t worry,” Yena assures, sighing as the voices of the footballers fill your area as they come up for refreshment. “He’s nice.” You weren’t sure who she was referring to so you just nod.

“Yena—pass me a bottle!” A boy calls, and you half expect her to do so, but instead, she delivers him one better—a middle finger.

“Get it your self you dickwad!” Yena calls back.

Your eyes widen when you turn your head to look at her, completely unbothered when the footballer shoots daggers at her nonchalant figure.

“Men. Think you always owe them something.” She scoffs.

You find yourself unconsciously nodding your head, and once again Yena recognises the gesture but doesn’t mention anything.

Instead, she turns towards you and levels you with a wide grin of her own.

“You’re cool. We should hang out.”

The declaration makes your eyes widen even more and you realise how much you’ve fumbled and made yourself look … stiff the entire time you were attempting to converse with Yena. But she seemed to be unbothered, and the thought makes you excited.

“We should?” You parrot with a squeak.

She nods and you’re still finding it hard to process the fact that she’d brought that up out of the blue.

You weren’t bad company. But you were … you.

“You’re like Ms Bona Fide.” Yena tuts. “People these days are either out to please or to receive.”

You furrow your brows.

“And I’m … not?” You say softly.

“You’re present.” Yena shrugs and throws you an easy-going smile.

God. She was so cool.

Namjoon scores the final goal.

You expect him to call the hangout off because, well, he’d closed the game and he was the captain. It was only normal that he’d want to celebrate.

So when Yena nudges your shoulders while your head is bent and focused on your mobile device, you slowly looked up with furrowed brows to see her cocking her head to the side with a knowing grin on her face.

And you see Namjoon, out of his gear and in a plain t-shirt and sweats while he waves at you.

You can’t help but gape at him.

“I see you’ve surrendered to good company instead of a zoo.” Yena greets Namjoon first with a snort.

Namjoon rolls his eyes, and you gauge that they’re at least well-acquainted. Acquainted enough that Namjoon subtly tries to flick her off, but you catch the gesture as soon as it comes.

“Promises are promises.” Namjoon shrugs as if he wasn’t aware that you were still gaping at him. Mouth open like a fish out of the water.

“Well—be nice, captain.” Yena whistles, throwing her camera into her bag and slinging it over her shoulder before she turns to look at you, a gentle nudge with her shoulder to yours as she levels you with an intentional look in her eyes.

“Don’t start any fights, Yena.” Namjoon gently chides, but his tone is joking.

Yena waves him off, then waves at you one last time, leaning down to whisper something into your ear that has you flushing.

“Tell me how it goes when we hang out.”

And she leaves you with a keen sense of excitement on the prospect of a new friend like her to look forward to hanging out with.

Namjoon looks over at you, and gently reaches for the tote bag you’ve slung over your shoulder as he tugs it off you with a soft pull.

“Let me.” His smile is all teeth and dimpled grins when you reluctantly let him take your bag from you.

“Thank you.” You murmur, eyes attempting to look at him but his gaze is so focused on yours that you find it difficult to make eye contact.

“We’ve got an exhibition to go to, don’t we?”

You nod your head enthusiastically as he chuckles, allowing you to lead the way as you find a little prep in your steps. It was nice. Having a friend like Namjoon.

“Captain’s not coming?” Yugyeom groans, ruffling his hair with a towel as the rest of the footballers filter out of the changing room.

Jimin snorts in response. “No. He’s got a date.” The emphasis on the word date is obvious in the immature sense, evoking wide eyes as responses.

“He bailed on us for some pussy?!” Yugyeom cries.

Jungkook has to clench his fists by his side when he hears how his teammate casually referred to you as just some pussy. You weren’t just … that.

“Watch your tone,” Jimin growls, and Jungkook’s thankful that Jimin was more of the confrontational type and didn’t allow shit like this to slide easily. Especially when it came to you. “That’s my best friend you’re talking about.”

Yugyeom’s eyes widened before gawking at the blonde boy.

“You mean Namjoon is going on a date with _____?” The rest of the footballers murmur in response, possibly out of confusion. “How did they—doesn’t she not … date?”

Jimin sighs, already ready with a response on the tip of his tongue but Jeonghan, the keeper interjects.

“Wait, I was under the impression that she and Jeon were a thing?”

At the mention of his name tangled with yours, Jungkook, who has been relatively silent throughout, freezes as his hands stop rummaging through his duffel bag while he tries to ignore the inquisitive stares he’s receiving from his teammates.

“W-What?” Jungkook stutters caught off guard.

Yugyeom narrows his eyes at the boy, while Jimin silently observes with an unreadable expression.

“Now that you mention it …” He trails off, head tilting upwards as if he was deep in thought. “I did always see the two of them alone with each other.”

Jungkook clears his throat as he lets out a nervous chuckle, his hand reaching to scratch the back of his neck.

“We’re friends,” Jungkook says stiffly and he hopes it’s believable, despite his hoarse voice. “Friends hang out.”

Jeonghan snorts. “Or she’s a two-timer.”

This time, Jungkook can’t keep his face neutral.

“Talk about her like that one more time and I’ll make sure you never speak again.” He growls to the other boy, whose eyes widen in response.

“I was kidding—” He raises his hands in defense but Jungkook is shoving the remainder of his belongings into his duffel bag before hauling it over his shoulder and storming out of the room, ears burning in both frustration and anger.

“You don’t joke about this type of shit,” Jungkook mutters under his breath right as he leaves the rest of the members brewing with confused expressions as they look at one another with concerned expressions.

Namjoon, as expected, is a museum enthusiast. That much you could assess when he was excitedly chirping about how much he appreciated all types of art, abstract, modern and contemporary and vintage—you name it and he could likely give you a break down of the nuances behind styles and techniques.

He is also great company. Namjoon is a comfortable line between involved and chivalrous, never pushing farther than what you were able to offer but engaging you in insightful discussions that you found yourself being intrigued by.

While you expected more … forward gestures, Namjoon is respectful and you’re surprised but not really. He was mannered encompassed into human form.

So, when the security guard informs you that the exhibition was over and that the two were the last guests in the hall—the two of you reluctantly had to bring your night to an end.

“That was fun,” Namjoon says once the two of you exit the hall, just two figures in the night who have thousands of words to say about the masterpieces you’ve witnessed.

“Honestly, I was already looking forward to it but seeing the pieces the art students curated in person was just another type of euphoria.” You confess.

Namjoon nods in agreement. “I totally agree. You can just tell that they’ve really dedicated all their free time to the work they’ve displayed.”

“Art is beautiful, isn’t it?” You mumble, eyes looking back to the museum as you grin up at Namjoon who’s already looking at you.

“Yeah.” He breathes, and the way he’s looking at you under the dim moonlight makes you irrevocably flustered. “Beautiful.”

You clear your throat as you shift on your heels, hoping the blush on your cheeks isn’t too apparent. The night was still wondrous, and you feel a type of comfort in Namjoon that you haven’t felt in a very long time. But there’s still a lingering thought in the substandard part of your mind that reminds you of doe-eyes and a bunny smile.

“Thank you for your time, Namjoon.” You say shy, fiddling with your thumbs.

When you find the courage to look at his face, he’s already beaming at you.

“No. Thank you.” He reassures. “I know you’re super busy so for you to find time out of your schedule to hang with a virtual stranger really means a lot to me.”

Your eyes widen, but then your face neutralises as you flush.

“I’m not that busy …” You mumble.

Namjoon chuckles. He doesn’t even snort or offer a sarcastic remark in response. He just acknowledges it with a kind smile and doesn’t comment further.

He’s different from what you’re used to. A challenge. A burst of rebellion that loved to roll remarks off his tongue.

You don’t want to think of him just yet.

“Regardless. You’re here. And I’m grateful.”

You nod your head lamely, clutching your bag into your chest (after relentlessly whining to Namjoon to allow you to hold it yourself when you felt a little useless).

“I should—I should head back.” You cock your thumb towards the direction of your apartment.

Immediately, Namjoon steps forward and is ready to head the same way you are.

“Let me walk you back.”

“I can’t possibly—”

“I’m not asking this time, ______.” He frowns.

You snap your lips shut. Though you did feel a little bad, it was late and the rational part of you knew that it was best if Namjoon walked you home.

“Okay.” You say softly.

Before you can begin walking, he tugs you by the elbow so gently, but firm enough for you to nearly stumble into his chest.

And he’s so tall, so you’re peering up at him with wide eyes as you gauge his nervous expression.

“I-I’m sorry if this is a little forward but—” Namjoon clears his throat. “W-Well I think—I really think you’re nice. And great. Like—good company, you know? So I’d r-really—I’d enjoy—”

You blink at him as he attempts to find his words.

“Namjoon.” You whisper gently, tugging the hem of his shirt.

At your gesture, his mind blanks but he remembers that you’re still looking up at him with a confused gaze.

“Okay. Fuck.” He whines as a giggle escapes your throat when he peers at you with an exasperated expression. “I’m not usually this much of a mess. You just make me nervous.”

“O-Oh.” You breathe, “I do?”

Namjoon sighs, rubbing his hands over his face.

“I don’t know if it was obvious but I’m kind of into you.” He says softly, rubbing his hand over his neck.

You don’t expect it, not at all. So you can only muster gawking at him at his sudden confession.

“And you don’t need to—you don’t need to say anything about it. We can pretend like I didn’t just confess to you. We can just be friends.” He rambles, eyes wide. “I just wanted to let you know … yeah. So I really hope we can still continue to hang out even though you might think I’m a creep and I really didn’t offer to walk you home because I had intentions. Really just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

You continue looking at Namjoon with wide eyes. Because you’ve never been on this end before. The one receiving the confession. You’ve never really given a confession either, and you try to suppress the bitter memories of the confession you tried to give Jungkook that wasn’t verbal but with your presence.

With you giving up certain parts of yourself for him so he could see you.

“Please say something.” Namjoon chuckles nervously.

“I—…” You choke. “I don’t know what to say.”

“We can pretend like I didn’t just say that.” He winces.

You shake your head. “No. No. It’s fine, Namjoon. Really.” You reassure him gently. “I really appreciate it … I just didn’t … expect it.” You finish lamely.

“You’re a very interesting person,” Namjoon tells you, lips twitching in an attempt to lighten the awkward atmosphere.

Interesting? You don’t think you’ve ever heard anyone call you interesting before. Not outright, at least.

“I’m really not.” You say sadly.

Namjoon furrows his brows but doesn’t reach out to you further, his hands still remaining limp by his sides.

“Hey.” His voice calls out. “You are. You’re definitely one of the most interesting people I’ve met in my life.”

You blink.

“T-Thank you.”

He waves you off, gesturing towards where you gestured towards earlier.

“Shall we?”

And somehow, Namjoon has a way of making everything feel easy. Like a temporary space for you to feel safe, to feel wanted.

So why doesn’t your heart flutter?

[shini--chan]

Sorry if I disturbed you but what about a reader who discovers she is pregnant and tries to run away? From the allies, nordics, axis+Prussia? She tries to hide from them and runaway. What would they do? Sorry again if this is too much!

Well, I did mention a few times that I have a character limit of 6, so I’ll be taking a pick.

Yandere Allies – Runaway Mother-to-be

America

Alfred would be shocked. If anything, he would have thought that you gestating would prevent such a thing from occurring. On a part it would enrage him that you would be so keen on endangering yourself. Didn’t you know about your vulnerable state? Being on the run isn’t healthy for a pregnant woman, and fleeing from him would be generally ill advised.

He would call you, give you a chance to return on your own terms. During his calls, he would bait you, sweet-taking to you to come back to him, and would point out that he could provide for you while nobody else could. You’d be a pampered princess if only you would open your heart for him. Things could be so idyllic between the both of you if only you wouldn’t be so uncontrollable.

If you wouldn’t cave in, then he would proceed to hunt you down. Of course, he could swoop in and be done with it, yet he would draw the whole affair out. Not necessarily because he would like elaborate and convoluted games, rather to induce fear in you and prevent you from doing something as foolhardy again.

Canada

Matthew would be worried. Certainly, your decision to scram would be one of those hormone induced whims and therefore, he would be a bit considerate with you should he catch you. More so, while he would be very upset about your behaviour, he would put effort in ensuring he wouldn’t harm you physically or mentally. Despite being unable to relate, he would understand how distressing pregnancy can be.

He’d let you believe you would out of the woods and use the opportunity to study you in order to fine-tune his treatment of you once you’re under his custody again. Yes, he would be insulted when he would hear you talking ill of him to other people, and depending on what you would say along with the emotions you would experience, he maybe would even reconsider his behaviour. In the more extreme cases he would let you slip through his fingers, remorse eating away at him.

Yet, in most scenarios he would capture you again, and boy, don’t expect a shaking boy to knock on your door to nervously put your head in a bag and lead you away. Once the chase is on, any and all signs of nervousness vanish as the experienced hunter comes forth. Really, all those jokes about being invisible cease to be funny when he is after you.

China

Yao would feel humiliated and irritated in equal measures. Since you would be a family unit, and his culture places a heavy emphasize on collectivism, your actions would reflect on him just like his actions would reflect on you. Having you run away from him would surely put him in a bad light, maybe even be enough to disgrace him in some social circles.

That’s why he would sweep the whole matter under the rug and set out to track you down. Remember, while he would be opposed to using violence because he would find it uncivilised in many a context, he wouldn’t hesitated to use any other drink in the book to get you back. If he would overly desperate, he would call your friends and family and give his own little twist to the entire story. That way, he would have a group of people that would willingly return you to him. Should strangers become privy to the situation, Yao would know they would return you to him before slandering him name. He’d just like to avoid the latter part.

Once you would be reunited, he would give you a stern talking to about responsibility and the importance of family. He wouldn’t tolerate any back talk and would impose stricter rules as well as security measures in order to protect you and the baby from yourself.

England

Arthur would be aggravated. Just what were you even thinking? Through the action of running away, you would have degraded yourself in his eyes. You would have reduced yourself to an irresponsible, impulsive, spoilt brat. He would have given you the world and this would be how you would repay him? By scampering with his child inside you? How ungrateful!

While he would entertain the thought of going after you personally and experiencing the thrill of the hunt, of having to adjust to a relatively intelligent quarry, he would let those thought just be thoughts. Instead, he would send some agents to fetch you for him. That way, he could demonstrate his power, deliver the underlying message that you ever try to paint him in a bad light in public that he would have justice on his side and to invoke fear in you.

While patiently waiting for your arrival, he would be completely maudlin and rather freely talk about the whole matter. Of course, to people he would trust. He would muse on how foolish you were to leave his gracious care, deliver flattering descriptions of you decorated with his worry. Seriously, if any other personification were to hear him or just hear of him in this state, they would be reminded of how Arthur handled the American Revolution.

He would be this way to you as well, in order to guilt-trip you. On the flip side, he would give you a few harsh dressing downs for you behaviour.

France

Francis would be sick with worry. The both of you would have already established a life together, and the two of you would have had long conversations on baby names, on which colour to paint the nursery and on which toys and furniture to buy. You running would have bursted all those rosy fantasies. At first, the truth of the situation wouldn’t sink in, and he would have difficulties coming to terms with the fact that there were signs that he had missed.

He’d allow you a small window of mercy before searching for you. If he would find you – if because in his mental state he might overlook clues – he would spill tears and proclaim his love for you over and over again. He’d give you expensive gifts, cook for you and tend to your needs. After fleeing with very little to your name, this tactic of love bombing would be all the more effective. It would be strongest before and immediately after returning to your shared home and would gradually be whittled down. He wouldn’t bare having a lazy partner.

Russia

Ivan would swing between being mildly annoyed and have a minor mental breakdown. On one hand, he would have heard so many stories of pregnant women running away that it would be a cliché to him. A cliché that he very expected to experience first-hand.

Generally, he would have the problem of either manhandling you or treating you like a china doll. This would stem from the fact of being largely desensitised to all forms of abuse while having moments of consciousness where he would acknowledge that his standards wouldn’t fit everybody, and that the average person would be very breakable compared to him. In that sense he would be very aware that you could get yourself killed. This would be amplified by the knowledge that he has many enemies that would either mutilate or murder you or do both just to hurt him.

The moment he would notice he you had vanished; he would go after you and maybe enlist an agent or two to help him.

[revengeisourlullaby]

If I Never Knew You Pt.2

Pt. 1   Pt. 2    Pt.3   Pt.4   Pt.5   Pt.6

Warnings: 18+, eventual smut, arranged marriage plot, kinda royal au, some fighting, secret relationship, angst.

a/n: Here is part 2! I might upload part three tonight. I’m so excited to see where this goes. It seems that the first part is doing pretty good so I might upload them faster. As always requests/asks are open! Just give me little time to get to them. Enjoy! 

Word count: 1.8K

Walking through the town, you felt an inordinate wave of liberation flow through not only you but also through Loki. It felt as if the weight of the world released itself from your shoulders. Confidence and strength soaring through the air. Loki lost his stiffness, his typical carefree nature restored once you became more grounded. 

“See, not so bad, right?”

Shaking your head, a cynical chuckle escaped your throat

“For you maybe. All these eyes on us is kinda gross.”

“It’s only because the most attractive prince has finally decided to show his face.”

You looked at Loki, amusement absent from your face. He laughed, a belly laugh almost. It was a free sound you had yet to hear from him and when you did your face painted your emotions before you had the chance to process them yourself. 

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yes, but you, my dear, tolerate it. So who's really at a loss in this situation?”  

“Well, it’s not me.”

“It couldn’t be me Y/N.”

“Looks like we’re both losers then Loki.”

You were approaching the main entrance of the palace and began to wonder if Loki was considering bringing you inside.

“We lost when we fell in love with each other Y/N. Listening to the heart is the most foolish thing one can do and yet here we are. Charging full speed with our eyes closed hoping we don’t trip over anything.”

Guiding you up the steps of the massive golden structure Loki called ‘home’ your nerves struck up again. 

“Seems to make sense that if we’re going full speed, might as well exploit our courtship in the place where you will eventually be spending all your time in. And with all things considered, sneaking you in is...counterproductive, to say the least.”

Exhaling, you brought yourself together and walked in front of Loki. His hand rested on your lower back escorting you inside. Grabbing fabric in your fists, you hiked your dress up a bit making sure you didn’t step on it. Walking through the main threshold, you realized you were worrying for nothing. The halls were massive, the ceiling stretching higher than you ever imagined.

 It would be a miracle if you were to run across someone you knew in a place so vast.

 You looked around in shock at everything you were being hidden from. The thought of it hopefully being yours to share with Loki in freedom and not in constraint was illuminating. One day to not only be openly in love with him but to call him your husband. Your partner for life was the solace you needed. Everything looked new to you because you had only ever seen the hallways in the dead of night to share evening visits with Loki, being as slick as one could, and it always working in your favor.

“Wow, it looks so different here with the sun shining through. Always felt like a runaway sneaking through the backways and balconies to get to your quarters.”

“And now you get to walk there like every other person in this place. Quite fancy isn’t it.”

“Okay, I didn’t ask for the smart mouth, you ass.” 

“Comfortable, are we?” 

“With you? Always.”

Finally, you two had walked up to Loki’s quarters. Opening the doors he welcomed you in and you welcomed yourself to his bed. Flopping down on the edge of it, the edge of your dress flying up and you went down. Hearing the door shut, you lifted your head up to face Loki at the door, only thing was he wasn’t there. Furrowing your brow you sat up on your elbows and by the time you looked behind you, it was too late. 

“Boo.”

Your body reacted before you could control your response. Your stomach fell to your ass, eyes widening and a sharp inhale all followed one another before you finally shook off the anxiety and realized that Loki had popped up behind you. 

“You asshole! What if I screamed, huh?”

Loki laughed falling over on the bed, your reaction to him obviously something of hilarity to him. You rolled your eyes and pushed his shoulder in and began to pout. He caught his breath and calmed down enough so he could respond back to you. 

“You’re only screaming for one thing and unfortunately, darling, the sun’s still out. So, someone will have to wait, considering they’re so concerned about being caught.”

Loki raised his eyebrow and your mouth was agape. You squinted your eyes and an idea popped in your head. Rolling over on your knee you placed yourself on top of Loki's lap, resting your hands on his chest stealing his smirk for this moment in time.

“I can control myself...you on the other hand, once you start you can't stop.”

To emphasize your point, you rolled your hips into his and brought your body down to level his. Reaching his ear you whispered

“If you can find containment within yourself, a prize will await you this evening.”

You moved from his ear and hovered in front of his face, your lips ghosting one another. You pulled back a little bit to stare into his eyes. They were hypnotic no matter how many times you saw them. Loki’s hand trailed up your backside squeezing the mound of your ass before continuing up your back. His hand finding refuge at the nape of your neck. He pulled you back to his face, a gentleness about the entire interaction, and kissed you. 

There was a different kind of spark in this kiss, it felt electric, coursing through your veins and settling in your brain as a memory you’d never forget. Losing yourself in the thrill of it all, your hips began moving against his. Your building arousal creating a fog between you. The more you ground into the god below you, the more apparent his bulge was. Flipping you on your back Loki now held the reins of the situation. 

“Now, don’t tempt me Y/N. You have a habit of teasing and where does it always leave you?”

“At your mercy.”

“Clever girl. So if you like to save this accolade you mentioned for later, mind your manners, my love.”

He leaned down to kiss you as to punctuate his words, ending the discussion with the pull of your lips between his teeth. Hissing through the pleasure you couldn’t help but roll your hips up towards him, now being the one desperately craving friction. Testing the waters, you wanted to see how far you could push Loki to his limits. Your hand found the scruff of his neck and scrunched his hair. Sucking a breath in between his teeth, he pulled back a light laugh following. 

“I’m aware of what you’re attempting to do Y/N, and I think it would be fair for you to know that it’s a feeble attempt. Reason being, now you’re the one left in ardor.”

Loki pulled off of you but made sure to drive his point home by sliding down your body and resting between your thighs before fully standing up. You lied on the bed in slight agony of your current predicament. You sighed and brought yourself up on your elbows. Looking ahead of you, you saw Loki sitting in the massive throne chair that was in his room. It was gothic in nature yet still regal with the back of the chair rising well up behind him and the arms of it embellished with Asgardian design. 

His position in the chair was more than purposeful. His legs were spread wide, his arm resting on the arm of the throne and his hand propping up his head to look not only at you but out on the balcony. The late evening sun illuminating his eyes, bringing a whole new meaning to golden hour. He looked breathtaking and it was as if you were falling in love with him all over again.

The lust you were previously feeling was now amplified but also accompanied with adoration for your lover. You raised yourself from up off the bed and waltzed over to him. A fire behind your eyes and in your presence but you had yet to act on it. Coming in front of him, you kneeled in front of him and looked up. Two could play at this game. Your hands slid up his legs, paying special attention to his thighs and feather lightly rubbed on this. His eyes were boring through yours and you felt small under his gaze. 

The silence between you was telling, that if you were to continue with your actions there would be no waiting until later. You wanted to enjoy the silence between the two of you, so you turned your back to him now sitting on your behind, and crossed your legs. You leaned your head back so it fell in between his legs, but before fully getting settled you reached for the two books resting on the side table in front of the chair and placed them in your lap. You wiggled your hips and settled into a comfortable position. 

Resting your head back, you craned it further attempting to look at Loki. He rolled his eyes knowing exactly what you were asking for. 

“You know, if I knew how often you’d beg for these I would have never indulged in your initial request.”

“You and I both know this is enjoyable for both parties.”

Loki huffed, a silent agreement without saying explicitly that you were right. Loki began to rub your temples. You closed your eyes enjoying the sensation and the loving intent of his actions. You finally felt calm and safe compared to the rest of the day which was riddled with anxiety and panic and the nagging fear of all the ‘what ifs’ you came up with. You had exhausted yourself and this simple action put you at ease. You opened your eyes for a moment and glanced down at the books in your lap trying to decipher which one was Loki’s. 

Catching a glimpse on the side you realized the one on the bottom was Loki’s current project at hand. Grabbing it, you twisted your arm behind you and slid the book into Loki’s lap knowing that sooner or later you would end up dozing off and you figured that getting this out the way would make it easier for both of you. 

“You are truly something else.”

“And you love me for it Loki.” 

“Can’t argue that one.”

A small smile painted your face before it fell back into its relaxed state and you began to drift off. Every little thing that had happened today made you feel that you were a few steps closer to getting what you so desired with Loki.

[dxmmymxmmywrites]

What You Do to Me

Kakashi Hatake x F!reader Smut

Warnings: oral sex, suggestive themes, lots of swearing, mention of violence/death

Cheers to the first story for the horny blog. Let’s see how this goes. Plot here follows an ANBU reader that is returning home. They are referenced as female, but could be any gender in a dress. Hope you enjoy 🖤

————————————

The leadership position was an honor— one you had fought tooth and nail for, even. You stood apart in how willing you were to climb to the top, to become the best of the best. However, it had its downsides.

You struggled making genuine friendships. You could be polite, sure, but so many people didn’t seem worth the effort anymore. It was easier to catapult all of your efforts into your training and work life.

It did make the good friends you had all the more special to you, though. You loved them dearly, and time and time again they proved their loyalty to you. Thankfully it didn’t waver whenever you were away for extended timeframes.

You had been sent away for an assassination. Somewhere nearly across the map, in a remote scavenger village where trouble had been brewing for the Hidden Leaf Village politically. It had done a number on you. You could recall the screams of the warlord’s wife when she found him in his bed with his throat cut.

As you settled into the routine of being home again, you found solace in Kurenai Yuhi. She was the friend that had been with you the longest, since the academy. You witnessed each other’s growth throughout your short lives and had been there to celebrate with and uplift the other whenever needed. That being said, she had also been quick to notice the subsequent depression that fell over you after your latest mission.

“When was the last time you went out?” She asked you flippantly.

You had come over to her home for tea the moment you had turned in the paperwork to the Hokage’s office. You shook your head.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?”

She flicked your shoulder. “That’s not what I meant. Honestly! For fun. Something that doesn’t keep you holed up in your apartment. You know, with people.”

You gave half a laugh. “You’re scheming.”

“And if I am?”

You sighed. “You’ll rope me into it somehow. Just nothing too wild, please.”

She says it’s for your own good, and she’s probably right. Kurenai arranges dinner at a local bar with your peers, and the other jonin accept their invitations quickly.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. These are people you really loved and appreciated. It would be good to let loose for a bit. And then Kurenai comes to your door to get ready with you as promised, and she throws black fabric in your face immediately.

“WHAt the fuck—?” Scrambling, you take it off your head and your eyes bulge.

It’s a beautiful black dress. Nothing outrageously fancy, but simple and refined without looking like you were trying too hard. You snorted, and Kurenai called out to you from the bathroom.

“Kakashi’s coming, too!”

“Goddamnit... Kuri—“

“Just try it on! I promise it’s not itchy. And you look good in black.”

And as it turns out, you did. The dress hugged you in all the right places without suffocating you, and fell loosely just above your knees.

You and Kurenai looked at your body in the mirror almost surprised.

“Okay, I really like it a lot.” You admitted with a small smile, and she gave a playful smack to your ass.

“I told you!”

...

Everything falls into place accordingly, and as you both approach the bar, you can feel a familiar fire burning in your chest.

You were happy to have time with your friends, but you were itching to see one in particular. You hadn’t seen Kakashi since weeks before you left to execute the assassination.

God, how to describe how you felt for this man and where to begin? He was within your circle of true companions, many of whom you’d known since childhood. But Kakashi— he was different.

You’d admired him from afar as children, intrigued by his protege-level talent, until you had been roped into Gai’s shenanigans along the way. In truth, you think you shocked him by not being so intimidated by his prowess.

Ultimately, you could see he was lonely. You’d had your own losses yourself, but it was hard to imagine everything he had endured. You gained an honest respect for him, and you’d protected him beyond your time together in ANBU. But nothing could deny the pull you felt to him, or how much you wanted to be the person to put a smile on his face.

...Even if you couldn’t see it.

As you wait with your posse, your eyes find him first when he is (of course) the last to show up. You can’t help but observe him greedily when no one else notices, and you can’t help but stand a little taller when you notice his brows rise when he takes in your dress.

And from there, the night is history. You all pile into a cramped booth and order several rounds of drinks and food to last the night. Everyone has something to contribute, laughing, teasing, and bickering the night away. It warms your heart; finally,

you feel like you’re back home.

Your mentality becomes stronger too as you feel the warmth from the sake hit you. With precise aim you manage to toss a piece of sushi into Gai’s mouth from across the table and your audience applauds.

Yet despite your sport, you can’t ignore the looks Kakashi has been giving you even before you laughed in triumph. He’s been particularly quiet for some time, but you can’t tell if it’s the booze or the atmosphere getting to him.

When the waitress comes to gather your third round of empty drinks you can feel your mood shift. She’s a lovely girl,

thin and with pretty doe eyes. You can’t pick it up through the noise, but she makes a comment to Kakashi and you can make out a smug smile through his mask. He holds out cash between two pointed fingers to her, and she happily takes it and bats her eyelashes at him.

Something begins to boil in your blood. It wasn’t like you to get jealous— that couldn’t be it. But you swear you see his eyes dart to follow her hips as she leaves. And it irritates the living shit out of you.

You’d yearned after this man for what? Your entire adult life? How dare he. Disregard the fact you had never had the guts to confess to him.

Fuck him. Fuck him and his pretty eyes, and his stupid soft hair, and his feathery laugh—

God, you were in so deep. Your seething turns into pouting in your head. Sitting on the sidelines sucked.

And even still... something in your resolve is building. It could be impatience, or the fear you were nowhere near drunk enough to pull this off and forget about it if it went sour. But as the waitress eyes him from the bar, you excuse yourself to the restroom while the attention is on Asuma at the other side of the table.

With Kakashi on the outer seat, it’s easy to carefully but firmly hoist his vest into your hand so you can easily whisper in his ear.

“Outside in five, Hatake.”

...

He could easily find you when he got outside to see you weren’t directly by the entrance. You had snuck into the side alley to patiently wait, like a cat waiting for a mouse to show itself from the underbrush.

Your nerves are broiling over while you idle, and the heat in your gut is burning you alive. But just as you’re ready to talk yourself out of it, he sneaks around the corner.

“This is some rendezvous, don’t you—“

He can’t even finish before you’ve swiftly backed him against the wall. You hold his wrists firmly in place by his shoulders, though you’re aware he could quickly break your hold if he tried.

“What the hell’s wrong with you Kakashi?” You pitifully laugh. “Do you think I’m not paying attention to you?”

Your words are more vicious than the defeated sound of your voice.

He playfully arches an eyebrow. “So, you have been watching me?”

“Of course I’ve been watching you, jackass! How could you even— but I know we’re not— but still—!”

Your resolve is quickly dissipating while his expression becomes more amused. Damn him.

“I think that was a confession if I’ve ever heard one,” he calmly adds. You glare at him.

He thinks he’s won, and gets ready to leave, but you press your knee between his legs. He can’t move, and there’s not enough pressure beneath his crotch to hurt, but he then has your attention.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me, Hatake?” You dangerously whisper to him.

Now, you see him sweat. His eyes look away, and that won’t do. Not anymore.

“Every night I was away, all I could think about was you.” You breathe into his collarbone, kissing over his clothed neck until you reach his flushed ear.

“Y/N—“

“I’m tired of playing games. You know how much I want you. Only you.” You suck on the lobe of his ear and grin when you feel him inhale sharply.

Your hands fall down to his hips and grip them harshly to ground yourself. With closed eyes, you have to steady your breathing to calm yourself. “If you don’t want this, tell me. You don’t have to.”

He’s ripped out of his haze by the sincerity of your tone. In the dim light, you can see him pull his mask down with a finger to take you in fully. His smile is so breathtakingly, beautifully raw.

“I do want you, and all of this. Now kiss me already.“

And like that, your heads are tilted and your lips are locked. The fire in your belly explodes to the rest of your body and you feel it amplified every time you touch him.

He moans deeply when you begin to push against him, reveling in how this wasn’t a dream. One of his hands cradles the back of your head through your hair, and you grin when the other trails down to grope your ass.

You gently rub your knee into his crotch, and he keens while you run your hands up his toned stomach and over his tight chest. When you’re to his face, you lower your knee to push your hips together and pull his hair as you slip your tongue into his mouth.

He submits to you willingly, openly, and freely. And it drives you wild.

Your kisses become more desperate as your tongues interlock, and he feels up from your thigh to your ass when you wrap a leg around him for balance.

His grip tightens around the back of your legs. “Jump,” he says, breathlessly.

You smile. “No.”

The wild look in your eyes sends a shiver down his spine.

He goes to ask you why, but then you’re on your knees in front of him and he swears he double-takes. You pause when your hand is at his zipper and he swears he’ll scream.

“You can stop me at anytime.”

“I don’t want to! Please,” he rasps, fingers trying to find purchase at the top of your head.

His begging sends the heat within you straight to your core. So you indulge, and pull down his pants and underwear enough to let his cock bob out into the night air.

He hisses at the cold initially, but almost chokes when he feels the flat of your tongue press against his cockhead. Your eyes are dark with a sinister lust when you stare up at him, and it takes his breath away.

“Fuck, Y/N, please,” he whines, his voice catching.

You flick your pointer finger up and trail it from between his balls up his entire length, not removing it from his now fully erect shaft.

“Please what? Use your words baby.”

He bucks his hips forward trying to get close to your mouth again.

“Please Y/N, blow me,” he pants. “Fuck me with that pretty mouth of yours.”

Did you wickedly grin once more? Probably. But you close your eyes and take his entire cock down your throat at once and he nearly seizes.

You start at an agonizing pace, making him wanton and needy for you. But just as he’s tiring, you speedily lick your tongue around his shaft and deeply suck him, making him yelp in the process.

“AH!— Holy shit!” He gasps and tightens his grip on your hair.

You hum around his cock, happy with his response, and he gives you a low, drawn out groan to follow. It’s enough to distract him while your hands hook around the back of his thighs to hold him in place.

You run your nails down his thighs just as you begin to swirl your tongue over his sensitive head, and then you take him as far back into your throat as you can once more.

Kakashi’s eyes are rolling into the back of his head, completely at your mercy and enjoying every minute of it. His silver hair frames his pearlescent skin so well in the darkness, which must contrast well with the weeping cock in your mouth.

You come up for air, and give him fast, sticky pumps as you look up at him cheekily.

“How are you feeling handsome?”

“S-So good, holy fuck.” He tries to catch his air as well, but he shakes his head. “Please, let me fuck your mouth. You feel so fucking good, please let me.”

Who were you to refuse?

[lyracasstuff]

!!!! could i please get hcs for naib and demi (separately) with a princess s/o (fem)? like her role is a princess and all that jazz :D (i recently made a main which is this one, im an idv blog myself i just like requesting things for other blogs :D)

I really really like this request..（・∀・）

Although, please excuse me if these headcannons are shorter for your taste,, I had been busy for quite a while,, and so my brain juices are a little drained...(⌒_⌒;)

Also,, hello fellow idv blogger!!（〜^∇^)〜

Naib and Demi x Fem! Princess! S/o👑✨

Naib Subedar🌛🌌

He would really be shocked and confused as to 1) HOW you got here? And 2) WHY are you here?

You, a ROYAL? Someone who's been sheltered and pampered ALL her LIFE, would PARTICIPATE in a gruesome game like THIS???

He really couldn't understand it..

Although he was very curious about you,, he *did* hold himself back from walking up to you and just bombard you with ALL sorts of questions..

So, it took the both of you some time to be acquainted with each other.. Naib started out small,, like greeting you with a rather stiff and rusty bow in an attempt to "match" with your own elegant courtesy whenever you two crossed paths..( ´ ▽ ` )

Or pulling your seat for you whenever you would sit down and prepare for a match..

To even lending you a hand in carrying your stuff when they were too heavy such as books, clothes, personal hygeine items, hair care, skin care, etc...

(Naib really wonders if you REALLY needed all of your 50 ballgowns and dresses...)

He just really wants you to feel at home despite being trapped in a manor..

On the topic of making you feel at home...

There's another thing aside from doing acts of service: protectiveness

He understands that you were most likely protected and guarded by knights before you went into the manor,, so you *probably* didn't know much about self defense...

So if anyone EVER tries to touch you, be it your hair, your face, your arm..

You can *BET* that Naib is going to be slapping said person's hand away while ushering you to get behind him..

He WILL do this to BOTH survivor OR hunter by the way...(｡･ω･｡)

You were very much pleased by Naib's protection and support,, he was just like your own personal butler and knight back home!!

Over time,, Naib's gestures had gotten bolder and bolder...

He went from doing acts of service, to teaching you how to kite, how to heal, how to rescue, how to vault windows, etc...

However,, you may or may not have teared up from the fact that you accidentally snagged a piece of your favorite dress from trying to put down a pallet...(^_^;)

Naib really panicked at that time.. He knows how to sew open wounds, not dresses and ballgowns!! (◎_◎;)

Nevertheless,, the both of you would still have fun by the end of the day..

Naib really couldn't help but be in love with you... How could he not though?? You were so sweet and elegant in everything that you do..

Even during the moments where you weren't the most elegant,, he still cherished it all the same..( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

Which is why he REALLY couldn't deny his jealousy and saltiness towards Wu chang, Joseph, heck,, even Mary sometimes.. Joseph and Mary are both nobles so OF COURSE you would relate to the aristocratic life,, and Wu chang were GUARDS before they got into the manor,, so OF COURSE they would serve as better protectors than he is..

Then, look at him,, he's nothing more than a man whose ENTIRE job revolves around killing targets that his clients propose.. Well,, at least that's what he thinks anyways..

Be that as it may,, Naib's mind would still be plagued by this thought.. So much so that He doesn't even notice that he's been distancing himself from you...

You aren't the same however... You KNOW that something's been disturbing him, you KNOW that something's upsetting him.. You can literally FEEL it..

And so,, in these times, you would decide to come visit him in his designated room,, all the while comforting him and telling him that while he may not be a noble or a guard,, you still love him regardless of his status and that you are grateful for everything that he's done for you..❤

Naib says nothing,, however, his body language and look of pure love and adoration on his face tells you everything you need to know..❤❤❤

That day has now marked an important event of your lives: the start of a new, blooming relationship..（⌒▽⌒）

First of all,, remember how I talked about his jealousy and protectiveness?? Well,, those just got amplified when you two are confirmed to be in a relationship now..

He sometimes does this thing where if someone wants to speak with you,, Naib would do either of these 2 things: either he asks you if you want to speak to them OR if he's feeling a little selfish with your time,, he just tells them to go "set up an appointment" with you...

He is really astonished at all the different kinds of spoons and forks, all the different etiquettes you follow, the amount of tiaras that you have...

And *especially* at how many relatives that you have.. Which was MUCH larger than the average family size...

((Fun fact: During the Victorian Era, the average family size was actually 6 children.. It had gone down by half by the end of said Era..))

I can't tell why,, but I have this headcannon in my mind that Naib actually prefers more simpler clothing on you.. He just doesn't like too much "eye clutter" per say...

That,, and there's just something so mesmerizing about your regal beauty meshing into the very simple clothing that Naib just finds so.. Heavenly..

All in all,, Naib is just dumbfounded and amazed as to how you had fallen in love with him and just how lucky he is at being with someone like you..

🌛💚🌛💚🌛💚🌛💚🌛💚🌛💚🌛💚🌛💚

Demi Bourbon🍺🍷

Much like Naib,, Demi over here is confused as to what a royal is doing here...

Unlike Naib, however, Demi is more upfront and straightforward and would just walk up to you and ask you directly..

"Woah!! Hey there!! What's a cute lil blueblood doin here??"

You get this question a LOT.. It stuck around for so long that it became an inside joke whenever Demi sees you in the same room as her...╮(─▽─)╭

Now,, she may be a girl,, but don't be fooled... She's surprisingly strong for her physique... So she'll DEFINITELY help you carry your stuff...

Just be prepared to be bombarded with ALL SORTS OF QUESTIONS about your stuff..

"Daaammnnn~ You royals really love your fancy schmancy stuff,, do you??"

"Ooooohhhh~~ A diamond encrusted necklace?? Hey, you wouldn't mind me borrowing it right??"

"This ball gown matches well with one of my costumes! Hey, how about we both dress up? We would REALLY look great together~❤"

You're going to have to get used to these questions someday...（・∀・）

She DOES teach you the basics,, but in all honesty, she never really lets you apply the things that you learned when you're actually in matches...

A hunter is right behind you?? You can bet that Demi will chug down her D.U.P.H.R.I.N, run as fast as she could and sweep you off your feet in a bridal carry..（＾ｖ＾）

"It is I, Your Knight in shining armor!!"

This happens all the time in matches

A hunter is preparing to take a swing on you?? Well,, not on Demi's watch!! Before the hunter can swing their weapon at you, Demi takes one of her bottles and smashes it onto their head...

She DID lose some morality points for that though....

Eventually,, you had to tell Demi that as much as you appreciate her "support", you still have to stand on your own,, ESPECIALLY when Demi is not in the same match as you are..

Demi would *reluctantly* agree and say that she just can't stand the thought of you being hurt, she doesn't want you to be in harm's way because she knows that some survivors *probably* just see you as dead weight,, considering you've been pampered your whole entire life..

Demi would then go on and tell you that she had been taking a liking towards you, and is interested in being in a relationship with you..

"Listen, your highness, I may not be an ACTUAL knight in shining armor, or a prince from some far away land.. But, I'd still want to take a chance at persuing you.. So, what do you say? Will you allow me to take a chance at wooing your heart??"

You of course say yes,, besides, you don't really care if she is of noble blood or not.. Her bold and daring personality is what made you like her..

And thus,, your relationship has started!!

Demi gets a *little* protective over you,, ESPECIALLY when someone's trying to flirt with you..

"Ah, ah, ah, she's mine~~"

"Oi, she's already taken, you idiot! How about go flirtin with someone who's NOT TAKEN???"

Demi over here doesn't really have any problem regarding jealousy,, if anything,, YOU might be the one having some jealousy problems here and there..

Because Demi practically flirts with anything and everything..

Never fear!! Demi would ALWAYS be there to give you reassurance that you're her one and only..( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

After that,, she'll tone down her flirty nature by a couple of notches so as to not worry you too much...

Demi would also serve you drinks!! For FREE!!(ノ^o^)ノ

The best part about this is that,, not only are you getting it for free, but you're also getting the FINEST quality...

And she serves your drink in the most dramatic way possible,, all accompanied by a cheeky wink at the end..😉

"Only the FINEST for your highness~❤"

Overall,, your relationship with Demi is surely an exciting and playful one! But don't let that make you think that Demi doesn't take you seriously..

Because she does!! And she will ALWAYS take your relationship seriously!!❤❤❤

🍺🍷🍺🍷🍺🍷🍺🍷🍺🍷🍺🍷🍺🍷🍺🍷

Author's note: I apologize if these headcannons are shorter and a bit "lackluster" for everyone's taste.. As stated before,, I had been busy as of late, so I wasn't able to regain much of my brain juices to write properly like usual..

Nevertheless,, I still hope that you enjoyed reading these headcannons!! (⌒_⌒;)(*´∀`*)

Until next time!! See you all in my next post!!ヾ(＠^∇^＠)ノ💚

[youarejesting]

Wash out.19

[Master List]

Banners: @purpleskies1999​ Pairings: Dolphintrainer!Taehyung x SharkDiver!Jin,  Mer!Jimin x Reader, Scientist!Namjoon x MerKing!Jungkook, Mer!Yoongi x Mer!Hoseok. Rating: 16+ Genre: Mystery, Romance, Comedy, Drama, Fantasy, little bit of Action, Slice of life, Enemies2Lovers, Friends2lovers, Social media au, Fake Texts, Fake Subs.

Summary: Taehyung and his best friend Y/N are Dolphin trainers at Wash Out; Marine Wildlife and Theme Park. When the nerdy marine biologist and resident veterinarian Doctor Kim Namjoon goes missing; the two friends form a ragtag team with Taehyung’s rival Seokjin and a…. Fish?

[Prev] [Next]

The group got ready to move, shoes secured tightly and plans painstakingly drilled into their heads. “Okay, once you're in the drain the hard work is done.” Seokjin grunted, helping load Jimin into the back of his car. He didn’t want to admit it but he was nervous, scared for their lives. One wrong move and they were all going to prison, he had too pretty of a face to waste in a prison. It was raining quite heavily and the group was unsure if the weather would help or hinder their plan.

There was a nervous air surrounding all of them and Seokjin felt odd, normally he would feel nothing if he saw the dolphin trainers suffering. Normally he would gloat, but it was as if their suffering amplified his. When had he gotten attached.

The front seat felt cold and his body was tense making the ride a little rougher than usual. He heard a small sniff and looked into the rearview mirror meeting your eyes.

“Y/n, why are you leaking?” Jimin asked, his face and tone expressing his concern and curiosity, “Are you hurt?”

“It’s called crying,” Seokjin said, taking pity on the boy's unanswered questions. You were clearly unfit to answer without bursting into tears. He hadn’t realized the two of you had grown so close. It was obvious now, how could Seokjin have been so blind to your growing feelings for the young man. Just like Romeo and Juliet your love was doomed as you were a human and he was part fish.

“Human’s cry when they are sad,” Seokjin’s voice softened his eyes, blinking away the mist in his own eyes. It wasn’t good for a driver's vision to be impaired. 

“Why are you sad? I am going home,” Jimin smiled, touching your shoulder, Seokjin saw you turn away, squeezing your eyes shut as if to expel all your tears at once.

“You are going home, we are happy but it means we will never see you again, we will never be able to laugh, talk, play and eat food together,” Seokjin sighed, he glanced in the rearview mirror at the young man seeing him swallow and his smile fall. It seemed he didn’t realize what going home meant, “On top of that, I think You and Y/n have gotten quite close and losing someone you are close to hurts.”

“It’s okay, I am happy too,” You laughed wiping your eyes forcing a water smile, “I want you to be happy and being stuck in a bathtub or tank won’t do that for you.”

The group were getting closer, you had taken a range of side roads in hope of avoiding the check points. Seokjin saw the police and froze up, they asked him to pull over and he took a few panicked breaths. 

“Play it cool Jin,” Taehyung squeezed the older man's hand but it wasn’t registering. They had to get to that drain pipe and they had to get there now. With shaking hands Jin turned up the radio Loner by Outsider played the soft melody through the cabin of the car and Seokjin took off past the police rapping at top speed.

He took turns left and right through the suburban area and looked in the rearview nothing yet but he could hear the sirens, screeching the lyrics, his face red. He pulled up and the three of you scrambled out of his car as Seokjin took off down the road.

The group slipped into the drain quickly, the police hot on Seokjin’s tail. 

The water splashing up to their knees and clutching Jimin as best they could as they ran. The group kept moving as quickly and quietly as they could, the water was up to your hips, meaning you would need a way out and quickly. The rain was heavier and would fill up the drain quickly, so time was of the essence. 

Taehyung was running as fast as he could through the water. Emerging out the other side of the private beach by Namjoon’s home. Up by the house were the police and the men from the amusement park. Swearing the two of you ran straight for the beach, shouts echoing from behind. 

“Take him, I am slowing you down, I will hold them off.” You shouted at Taehyung, grabbing Jimin’s face and kissing him. Tears were falling softly down Jimin’s cheeks and he touched them confused, you pulled back running at the police trying to block them off. 

Taehyung dragged Jimin across the sand into the water, the two of them watching as you were tackled to the ground. Taehyung had gotten Jimin out far enough, CEO Schmidt had caught up not stopping for Y/n but heading straight for his prized possession. Jimin lashed out clawing the old man until he fell limp in the water.

“Get out of here and stay safe,” Taehyung smiled

“What about you guys?” Jimin said the tears were unable to stop, his face contorted in pain as he heard you crying in fear. The roar of an engine could be heard along with police sirens filling the air.

“We will be fine, we will-” Taehyung’s face froze in horror, Jimin took off not letting Taehyung finish, shocked by the sight unfolding before him like it was in slow motion.

Seokjin knew there was no way this would end well, he was running out of road so he headed for Namjoon’s holiday home, driving at top speed he tore across the grassy lawn mud flying everywhere in the rain and pressed the accelerator to the floor aiming for the cliff.

Eyes squeezed shut he hit the water with a jolt hard like an aggressive game of bumper cars, he didn’t know when it happened but the water filled the cabin, he undid his belt calmly and pushed open the door. He was a professional diver, he had his experiences with controlling and slowing his breathing.

He felt a hand on his and he was dragged across the ocean, Jimin encouraged him to take a breath, his voice muffled but just as sweet and melodic underwater. Following his instructions Seokjin felt himself able to breathe, taking shallow breaths and letting Jimin pull him along.

The police were shocked they had seen the two carrying a mermaid back to the water, they watched it kill the CEO and swim away. The whole situation was insane. 

“Excuse me, I think there has been a mistake, my name is Rory Davidson the leader of Management for Wash Out theme park. If you would like to listen to the full story I am happy to explain and show you evidence but these two have done nothing wrong.” Rory explained, Taehyung knew he was a good guy after he let them take Jimin in the first place. “They were falsely accused of stealing from the park when really they were returning the young Merman to the ocean. We are happy to answer all your questions, provide you with evidence and revoke any charges set on these two.”

The police were provided with all the evidence they needed and even though they were still confused they had to admit, there was no evidence they had done anything wrong. 

“I would like to give you back your jobs, we will release a public statement that it was a false accusation. I know this is hard right now with the loss of your friend but take your time, you will have paid leave and can come back when you are ready.” Rory explained, “I have been working my way up the chain of command in the park hoping one day to be able to become a more human place. Animals and people shouldn’t be locked up. I am sure you know that by now.”

With those last words the two of you were dropped out the front of Taehyung’s apartment where the two of you spent the night curled up crying in each other's arms.

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Tags: @backinblack1967​ @miriamxsworld​ @moccahobi​ @simplymemyself​ @a-gayish-unicorn​

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[dreamywriterinthedark]

Museum Dates: part 2

Part one

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (no specific pronouns used, Reader wears a dress)

Resume: Reader surprises Spencer for their first year anniversary, the same way he did with Reader, at an art gallery at night. They dance and it’s just too romantic (dream with me💕).

Category: so fluffy!

Trigger warnings: mention of alcohol (please let me know if i forgot something)

It has been one year since you and Spencer have been together. You have been together ever since you went on a date at that nocturne exhibition. To honour your love, he gifted you a bracelet with the time of when you first kissed engraved on it with a heart. This time you were the one who decided to surprise him. Your friend has this art gallery in the historic center; therefore, close to the historical museum where you originally went on your first date. You made her an offer to rent the gallery for the night, an offer she gladly accepted excited to hear your updates the next morning. 

It took weeks of preparation since you wanted it to be perfect. It was highly challenging for you to keep this surprise a surprise; you were dating a profiler! He asked you to move in with him which you half declined. It would have been impossible to plan your surprise and move in with him at the same time especially if he gave you a hand, which he most definitely would’ve. He would’ve noticed all of the evidence therefore it would’ve been ruined! No body, no crime… Plus him feeling disappointed or left out was perfect to amplify the joy overcoming him when he discovers your entire mascarade just like in movies when the characters would pretend to forget someone’s birthday to surprise them later on. You told him you simply weren’t ready to move in with him which he completely understood. 

However, since you were scared of getting profiled by him at work, you would make excuses to decline plans, you would panic and avoid to answer questions. It most definitely did not go unnoticed by him who took it as a clue you didn’t trust him or worse. Each time you lied to him a little piece of his heart broke. So he sat there at the edge of his desk hands in his pocket staring blankly at the ground, the last one in the bureau illuminated by the static flickering light above him. Those lights reminded him of hospitals, specifically the one where he stayed after getting shot, you would bring him jello and would read to him his favorite books. 

He sat there, deep in thoughts, swallowing the lump in his throat. His eyes slightly open as if the truth was right in front of his eyes but he just couldn’t see it clearly and it was. His phone buzzed, it was you; “John Keats, p113.” He rose to his feet to grab the copy of poetry collection on his desk. The title of the poem was “An ode to autumn” and that’s when it hit him. In between the pages was a raven wax sealed envelope. He opened it full of apprehension, it read in your beautiful italic handwriting; “Meet me at the Melrose art gallery at 10PM sharp.” He grabbed his coat hurrying out of the office, a small smile displayed on his face as the elevator door slowly shut.

Once Spencer arrived he texted you because there was no way in, the doors were locked (safety measures). You started panicking adjusting the lights so they were dimmed. You checked your reflection, you were stunning. You wore a black dress with some sultry perfume that could be smelled from across the room. He waited in front of the door hearing your Mary Jane clicks progressively louder as you made your way to the door opening it up for him. 

He walked in his eyes fixated on you, his cheeks flushed, you flet the tip of his nose cold on your cheek when he leaned in to kiss you. You turned your head grabbing his hand to lead him toward the biggest room in the entire gallery. There were peonies in white and blue vases along with many vanilla candles. The record player played soft muffled sounds, the song it was on was “Old enough to love” by Ricky Nelson. It matched you well, being the babies of the BAU.

“Will you dance with me ?” he responded by nodding because he was smiling too hard to be able to form any word. There you were slow dancing in the dimly lit room. He held your hand squeezing it from time to time, you felt his warm breathe fan over your neck. He pulled you in closer thanks to his arm being snaked around your waist. The next song to play was “Say Yes To Heaven” by Lana Del Rey. It reminded you of him, you found the lyrics quite touching; if you fight, I’ll fight//Give peace a chance, let the fear you have fall away. Spencer made you twirl watching your dress move gracefully in sink with your body. You almost fell from tripping on your shoes but he reaffirmed his gentle grip on you. You both chuckled. 

Once the music stopped, the one you carefully chose since each part of your romantic evening was planned. You sat down on a pile of pillows while sipping on peach white wine. You handed him a heart shaped box that recollected all your favorite memories, from the museum tickets, to pressed flowers you made with the bouquets he would gift you (you made a journal of them where you would analyse them: the etymology behind their names, what they meant, for example lilies were symbolised death), to pictures, to love letters. Until he found a remote, you asked him to click on it, nothing happened. 

You got up helping him up as well. You hand turned the lights off. The room didn’t have a ceiling but tinted windows in a sphere shape which was perfect for what he turned on; a projection of the sky on the night you first kissed. He looked up at the stars in awe of the beauty right in front of his eyes. You explained to him where this sky was from and why you were projecting it.

“Spencer, what time is it ?” You asked.

“11:29PM” he shut his eyes a second too long; again, it hit him, you first kissed at 11:31PM. He made his way toward you cupping your cheeks in hands while your hands rested on his waist. The kiss was passionate, slow, harmonious; everything you wanted it to be. You smiled out of it pointing at a constellation; “Look, it’s Cygnus!” Purposely expecting him to start his rambling.

“Cygnus is a northern constellation lying on the plane of the Milky Way, deriving its name from the Latinized Greek word for swan. Cygnus is one of the most recognizable constellations of the northern summer and autumn. It is symbolises weddings, romance, love, anniversaries…” his gaze drifted back to you. You were already staring at him an eyebrow cocked smirking at him. Again, it hit him. This date night was a game of chess which you were many moves ahead of him.

“I have to say, I’m impressed.”

“Oh but I’m not done yet!”

“What? Seriously?!”

You nodded leaving, he froze for a second before trotting to you like a lost puppy. He followed you to a staircase which led to the roof. There was not much space on the roof since it was mostly occupied by the sphere like windows but the edges were big enough to let you walk through them, sit and even for a telescope…

“See the sparkly dot right next to Scorpio ?”

“I guess…”

“Here take a look” you said to him gesturing toward the telescope.

“It is beautiful, Y/n, it truly is but what about it ?” He knew you weren’t the one that was going to give him a class on the universe. Spencer was one of kind, the most brilliant scientist you’ve ever met, he gave you the scientific facts about the stars and constellations, you would give him the spiritual meanings behind them. You would complete each other in knowledge just like that. You fished out a tube of paper with a bow tied around it. He took it and after a split second of shock which showed on his face started freaking out. He squeezed you so tight.

“Oh my god, Y/n, I can’t believe you got me a star! This is the best gift I’ve ever received!” His voice was so high from the excitement he almost squealed.

“The brightest star for the brightest mind.”

To top it off, you saw a shooting star and you could swear in this instance you both made the same wish.

[ibijau]

I blame @nillegible who dropped this amazing concept on the xisang discord,  then wrote a wonderful take on it and said it was fine if I played with it as well

Nie Huaisang wasn’t supposed to be in that part of Carp Tower, which was precisely why he was there. Nobody ever came around there anymore, not since Jin Guangyao had so virtuously turned his back on the demonic cultivation his father had encouraged and allowed to fester inside his sect.  Nie Huaisang had come there a few times during his days of investigation, never finding much of interest. He had figured out that it was the quietest place in all of Carp Tower, though, and he had often escaped there when forced to be in Lanling yet needing a moment to compose himself… and even now, with Jin Guangyao dead months ago, it was hard to keep his cool in enemy territory.

It did not help that Jin Rulan, after inviting him to Carp Tower to discuss new terms on a number of old treaties between their sects, had suddenly been taken by an emergency he could not explain. He had asked Nie Huaisang to stay as his guest until the matter was settled, promising it would be quick.

That had been over a week ago.

Nie Huaisang, this whole time, had done his best not to snoop around. It was no concern of his if Jin Rulan had to deal with emergencies, he refused to get involved unless he was invited to do so. The temptation was there to find out, certainly, but… Nie Huaisang was tired of other people’s secrets. So to avoid finding out anything, he mostly spent his days wandering in the gardens, or seeking peace in this abandoned part of Carp Tower. It was so quiet here, he could almost pretend that everything was fine.

The quiet was broken after he passed the door of a little building, and heard a shout.

“Uncle Nie!”

Nie Huaisang startled, and turned in the direction of the voice. He saw a child running his way from inside the building, the sight pulling at a heart he thought he no longer had. Without thinking, Nie Huaisang fell to his knees and opened his arms wide, letting the child throw himself at his neck before pulling him into a tight hug.

“Uncle Nie, you’re here!”

“SongSong?” Nie Huaisang gasped.

Before he could even fully process how impossible it was for that child to be here, more voices rushed their way. Still acting on instinct alone, Nie Huaisang stood up again, keeping the little boy in his arms. It was a relief when he saw Jin Rulan and Wei Wuxian rush out of that same building, meaning he probably wouldn’t have to fight after all. 

Wei Wuxian seemed to have less amicable thoughts about him. He frowned deeply when he saw that Nie Huaisang was holding the little boy so closely, and pulled out his flute as a quiet threat.

“Nie zongzhu, put down that child,” he ordered.

“Wei gongzi, I don’t think I could even if I tried,” Nie Huaisang retorted, feeling Jin Rusong’s grasp on him tighten, the little boy curling up against his chest in terror. “SongSong, have they scared you very much?”

“He says he’s LingLing,” the child muttered, pointing an accusatory finger at poor Jin Rulan who looked quite in shock over whatever was going on. “He’s not, LingLing is little like SongSong.”

“And you don’t know the other man either, so you became scared?” Nie Huaisang asked, smiling when Jin Rusong nodded and hid his face against his neck. “So my clever little SongSong decided to run for it. What a clever boy! Well, it’s lucky you found me. You know me well, right SongSong?”

The little boy relaxed a little, clearly happy to be receiving praise. He was always such a sweet child who soaked up affection like a sponge. Nie Huaisang used to adore him and to spoil him rotten whenever he could, even after having realised he would need to orphan him someday. He had cried for days after Jin Rusong had died, and again when he had understood why the child had died.

Or appeared to die, as seemed to be the case. The little boy in his arms was warm and very much alive.

“Put him down,” Wei Wuxian ordered again, glaring at Nie Huaisang.

“No, I won’t. Not right away. Hey, SongSong, it’s fine, these two are not bad people. They are my… they are uncle Lan’s friends. And we both know uncle Lan would never be friends with bad people, right?”

If the other two startled at those words, Jin Rusong eagerly nodded, and dared to glance in their direction with less fear.

“He’s not LingLing,” he insisted, pointing again at his cousin.

Jin Rulan, usually never showing any emotion but haughtiness or anger, made a grimace of anguish at the accusation. As was to be expected. He’d been young when Jin Rusong had died, but the two cousins had been raised like brothers, they had been so close before tragedy struck.

“I’ve told you, you’ve been very sick, A-Song,” Jin Rulan explained, taking a step toward his cousin and the man holding him. “I’m Jin Ling, I’m just… I’ve grown up a bit.”

“I don’t like it,” Jin Rusong retorted, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. “I don’t like you. I want my mommy and daddy. Uncle Nie, take me to mommy!”

Nie Huaisang froze, that simple demand knocking the breath out of him.

It had been natural to pick up Jin Rusong and to comfort him, like something out of a memory, but suddenly reality caught up to him. He noticed the way Wei Wuxian looked at him with suspicion, with hatred almost, his posture ready for a fight. He saw the fear in Jin Rulan’s eyes, how he was clearly desperate to come steal back his cousin from the man who had…

Ah.

Nie Huaisang smiled as he knelt down again, trying to push the child away from him.

“SongSong, I think you should go with your cousin, actually. Look how strong he has become, don’t you think he’ll take good care of you?”

The more Nie Huaisang tried to free himself, the harder Jin Rusong clung to his neck, desperately clawing at him so he wouldn’t have to let go, leaving red lines on his skin.

“I don’t know them, I don’t know them!” he wailed, spilling heavy tears. “Uncle Nie, I don’t know them, stay with me! Take me to mommy!”

With a sigh, Nie Huaisang gave up for a moment and allowed the little boy to curl up again against him, his tears calming quickly. Earlier it had made him feel warm and happy to have this child in his arms. Now, it only amplified the hollowness in his chest, reminding him of things he used to have.

Watching them intently, Jin Rulan tilted his head before looking at Wei Wuxian.

“Maybe… if A-Song trusts him… You said it’s best if he stays calm for a while, right?”

Wei Wuxian’s frown deepened. His posture remained tense, but he nodded slowly.

“If Nie zongzhu is willing to help. Though I wonder how much of a surprise this situation is to him?”

It was Nie Huaisang’s turn to frown, though he made efforts to keep his body relaxed so he wouldn’t stress out poor Jin Rusong.

“If I had known that SongSong was alive, I would have made different choices on certain matters,” he stated in as pleasant a voice as he could manage. Jin Guangyao would still have needed to die, that had never been negotiable. But if he had known that Jin Rusong had survived the attack on his life somehow, then he would have been more careful of Qin Su’s well-being. In fact, Nie Huaisang would have kept certain things secret, so his nephew wouldn’t have to live with the infamy of his father’s sin. “I am willing to help though, if I’m allowed.”

Jin Ling and Wei Wuxian exchanged another look, before the young sect leader took another step toward Nie Huaisang and his cousin.

“A-Song, if Nie zongzhu comes with us, will you listen and be good?”

“I want mommy,” the little boy replied.

“Mommy can’t be with SongSong at the moment,” Nie Huaisang explained, glad for once that lying had become so easy to him. “Neither can daddy. But I think LingLing has important things to say, so why don’t we go back inside and listen to what he has to say?” Jin Rusong shook his head, looking ready to cry again. This called for desperate measures. “I’ll let SongSong play with my fan,” he offered. “Today, it’s one that has birds on it.”

Jin Rusong considered it for a moment. It used to be a game between them, Jin Rusong so fascinated by the pretty fans, Nie Huaisang desperate to protect them from clumsy and occasionally sticky hands. It used to make Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao laugh to see the two of them play fighting over fans.

It was odd to think of Jing Guangyo and Lan Xichen laughing, after everything.

But for Jin Rusong, those memories hadn’t been tainted. So he did not hesitate very long before nodding eagerly. It took a bit of a balancing act, but Nie Huaisang managed to pull out his fan of the way without having to put down the child. It made his heart clench to see with what care Jin Rusong slowly opened that fan, the shining smile on his face as he discovered the painted birds. It really was more than Nie Huaisang could handle so he turned to look at Jin Rulan and Wei Wuxian, fearful he would start crying in nostalgia otherwise.

“How is this possible anyway?” he asked. “I was there when… I was there. I saw it happen.”

“We’re not sure how exactly he did it,” Jin Rulan explained, motioning for Nie Huaisang to follow them back inside. “But A-Song has been kept in stasis all this time while uncle tried to find ways to heal him. He… there was something wrong with A-Song’s heart, so it was the only way uncle could keep him alive until he found a cure.”

Once they were inside, Jin Rusong’s attention drifted away from the fan for a moment, the child shivering in fear in Nie Huaisang’s arms. Not without reason. Not only was that building a medical practice of some sort, but in a corner stood the terrifying Ghost General himself. Well, he scared Nie Huaisang and Jin Rusong anyway, the child because he could probably tell this person wasn’t quite alive, the adult because he knew what that man was capable of, even if at that moment he looked all sorry and pitiful. 

It puzzled Nie Huaisang at first that this fierce corpse should be there, until he remembered who his sister had been. Medical miracles might have run in the family.

“Well, SongSong and I are listening,” Nie Huaisang said with a polite smile. “Why don’t the three of you explain this situation to us?”

Jin Rulan nodded, and took a deep breath.

“So, I was going through my uncle’s belongings a few months ago when I found this journal he kept. I couldn’t quite believe it at first, but I found another secret room and inside…”

[heyyy-hey-babyyy]

When We Were Young (part VII)

Dean x Fem!Reader; Sam x Fem!Reader (platonic)

Read part I here ; Read part II here ; Read part III here ;

Read part IV here ; Read part V here ; Read part VI here

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of trauma/abuse, brief moments of self-harm, mentions of anxiety attack, *moments of assault*

**This chapter contains images of assault. Please be aware if this is trigging for you!

B/N: I’m getting a little lost in my own timeline, so apologies for any inaccuracies... All mistakes I claim as my own. 

2164 words

Summary: Dean, Sam, and Y/N grew up together, but when she’s taken away for over 10 years, the boys have no idea what she’s been through. Will asking her to move into the bunker with them reveal more than she’s ready for?

You could feel Dean crouched in front of you, and could see his lips moving as he spoke, but everything was moving in slow motion and the words weren’t reaching your ears. Standing quickly, Dean didn’t have time to reach for you as you excited the house as fast as you could. You needed air.  

Dean stood again, wearing the same shocked look as Sam and Bobby. But he didn’t follow you, giving you space for a moment. 

“Did she just say that was Greg?” Sam asked quietly, moving to stand next to his brother. You had just exited the house, the screen door slamming shut behind you. “The same Greg she emptied a gun into almost fifteen years ago?” 

“Yeah,” Dean grunted out, weighing his options. He knew you were upset with him for his outburst back at the bunker and he didn’t want to push you away further, so instead he turned toward Bobby trying to figure out their next move. 

“One of you boys gonna fill me in on what all that was?” Sam scrubbed a hand down his face, knowing this wasn’t his or Dean’s story to tell, but he definitely was not about to dive into the specifics of Y/N’s life in foster care. Especially not when Bobby was glaring at both him and Dean like he was. Like a protective father.

Dean cleared his throat loudly, before speaking. “Something bad happened to her, Bobby, when she was in foster care...” Dean trailed off, measuring his words. “And the guy that did it is supposed to be dead. I guess he isn’t as human as she initially thought...” He trailed off again, glancing toward the front of the house. He squeezed Sam’s arm once, knowing he would speak more with Bobby, before heading outside with a quick, “she shouldn’t be alone.” The two men nodded in agreement and Dean headed toward the front door, intent on keeping you close to him from here on out. 

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You weren’t planning on going anywhere after rushing out of the house. You just needed some quick air, and plopped yourself down on the hood of the Impala once you were out the door. Dean would be pissed that you were scuffing up baby’s hood, but you didn’t care at the moment, and he’d forgive you. 

You laid back against the cool hood, losing yourself in your thoughts. How could he possibly be alive? And why come after you now? 

You didn’t want to think too far into the situation, afraid you would have to live through those long nights shaking in your bed again, so you tried your best to separate that life from the one you were trying to lead now, the biggest different of course being Dean. It didn’t seem to be a huge coincidence that the darkest moments of your life were when you were miles away from Dean and Sam Winchester. The thought made you smile to yourself despite what was going on. 

You were so caught in your own head that you didn’t feel the hand grasp tightly around your ankle and drag you from the Impala’s smooth hood, slamming your head on the bumper on the way down, making your world go black. 

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“Y/N, listen,” Dean started walking across the patio toward the Impala figuring you would be close by. He glanced around quickly when he didn’t see you leaning up against the car’s smooth hood like he expected. 

“Y/N” He called loudly, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice. Maybe you had walked down the aisle of cars. You couldn’t have gone too far, he thought to himself, it had only been minutes since you walked through the front door. 

Dean walked swiftly down the first row of immovable cars, turning the corner to glance down the next, and the next, and the next, not seeing any sign of you. 

“Y/N!” Dean shouted again, running down the last few rows and back up toward the house, beginning to panic. 

Sam and Bobby heard his last shout and were clamoring out the door toward him, fear written across their faces. 

“What’s going on?” Sam asked anxiously. Dean shook his head, running his fingers through his short hair in frustration. 

“She’s not out here!” He finally called out at the two men, who swiftly turned and rushed back into the office, preparing to pull up the security footage again. Dean followed, pacing the floor anxiously while Bobby slowly pulled up the salvage yard’s security tapes.

Sam was trying to calm his brother with constant mantra’s of ‘it’s gonna be okay’ and ‘we’ll find her,’ but Dean wasn’t having any of it, swiping Sam’s hand away when he placed it on his shoulder.

“Come on, Bobby, we don’t have all day!”

Bobby glared at Dean again, hard, reminding the older Winchester of his place. Dean shut his mouth but continued pacing, avoiding his brother’s gaze.

“Alright,” Bobby started, snapping Dean to attention. “it’s starting. Looks like Y/N was just sitting on the hood of the Impala after she walked out.” Dean rushed to Bobby’s side and glanced down at the security footage, hiding a small smile when he saw you sprawled out on the hood, exactly like he knew you would be. He kept watching when suddenly the footage went all garbled and they couldn’t make any sense of what was happening. The tape fixed itself and Y/N was gone, the Impala’s hood barren.

“Dammit!” Dean roared, knowing that Greg must have messed with the security tapes. Bobby slammed the laptop closed, muttering to himself, while Sam went back to mother-hening Dean.

“Sam!” Dean shouted, warning his brother. “Get. away. from me.” Sam huffed out a sigh in response, knowing nothing was going to get through to his brother until Y/N was back by his side safe. The three men did nothing for a few seconds but stare blankly around the room, desperate for any answer to appear out of thin air. Dean startled them all when he screamed out, “where is she!?”

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When you woke you, the lingering smell of rain and dead bodies hit you like a freight train, and you decided to try to trigger your hunter senses before you opened your eyes and gave away your present status. You hadn’t hunted in over a year, promising Sam and Dean that you were more comfortable with research, when in reality you didn’t trust your own abilities anymore. You didn’t trust yourself with many things lately.

You started your investigation with your own body. You didn’t feel drugged or anything, just tired from the fall, and your back ached a little. Attempting to move your arms you realized they were chained above your head and you were on your knees, jeans soaking up the horrible smelling water beneath you. Wincing you decided to open your eyes, hoping that whoever this was wasn’t around at the present moment. You weren’t delusional enough to think that this could be anything other than Greg, but you hoped that perhaps some sort of monster followed you and the Winchesters to Bobby’s. But your hoping was in vain, as you slowly opened your eyes and came face to face with a larger and older version of the kid who ruined your life. 

When he saw you open your eyes and look into his, he offered you his wolf grin, before you avoided his gaze quickly. 

“Y/N.” His tone was even and you could tell he was still smiling. Though his voice had dropped an octave or so, it sent a chill through your body. You weren’t the most skilled hunter, but in your current predicament, even the newest hunters would be jumping into some kind of game plan and playing off of their adrenaline and anger. You felt yourself shrinking into yourself, hoping you could simply disappear. As always, Greg never sensed any discomfort from you, and continued talking like nothing was wrong. 

“It’s so good to see you!” He didn’t touch you, but the way he was coming toward you had you cowering back into the corner as far away from him as the chains would allow. 

He clicked his tongue at your movement, “Ah. I see.” You glanced up at him as he spoke, following his movements. He knelt down in front of you, and you couldn’t lower your head any further to get away from him. “I’m not mad, Y/N.” He said simply, using a gentle tone, one that you recognized. Long ago you stopped falling for the gentleness knowing that what was to follow wasn’t going to be nice and gentle. 

He stood suddenly making you jump, walking slowly around the room as he thought. “I know you did what you needed to do, and I’m not mad... I just wish you would have stuck around a bit for the real fun.” The wolf smile was back and you shuddered, imagining his bloody body rising before your eyes after you thought you had killed him.

He was turned toward you, and clicked his tongue again when you refused to look at him. Kneeling down he snaked a finger toward you, smiling when he reached your chin and was able to tilt your head back so that you were forced to look into his eyes. 

“It’s okay, hunny...” You shuddered when he used the nickname he used to use for you, often referring to you as his little ‘hunny-bear.’ The foster agency and your foster parents thought it was so cute.

“We have plenty of time for you to make it up to me.” 

Quickly the single finger under your chin, became his entire hand gripping the back of your neck, and he pulled your forward, the chains attached to your arms clinking behind you. He held you steady in front of him, while he roughly pushed his lips to yours. You kept your face stoic, refusing to react to his assault of your lips, and you felt a growl building deep in his chest. When your lips didn’t react against his, he pressed his hand against your cheek, pressing down on the sensitive skin and forcing your mouth to open. He took your bottom lip between his teeth biting hard enough to draw blood. You tasted the salt on your tongue, wincing as the blood seeped into your mouth. 

Greg pulled back, releasing your face, his wolf smile revealing dark crimson teeth, your own blood staining his lips. He stood to his full height and raked his eyes up and down your body. 

“Oh hunny-bear, you have definitely filled out. Damn!” You flinched at the volume of his words, but he ignored you. “You turned into quite a looker.” He tsked his tongue continuing to look you up and down. “But why do you hide behind all of these baggy clothes!?” He suddenly sounded angry, and you realized you were wearing one of Dean’s flannels, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and buttoned all the way to the top. 

“That definitely won’t do.” He spit out, walking toward you again, and beginning to undo the buttons, slowly, as if he were trying to ‘set the mood.’ As each button brought him closer to your chest and stomach, you felt your abs clenching, feeling like you might vomit on him at any moment. 

Once he finished the buttons, you heard him wolf-whistle realizing you were only wearing a plain black bralette underneath the heavy material, the lace and fabric not leaving much to the imagination. You felt tears sting your eyes, imagining happier times on your way to South Dakota when you simply threw on one of Dean’s flannels to be more comfortable on the drive, while the boys were inside at the gas station. The fabric was soft and long and smelled like Dean, so you didn’t bother putting anything under it. You never imagined you’d be in this situation. 

Greg continued to look you up and down and you let the tears fall freely. Someone please save me! 

----------

The Winchesters and Bobby had been sitting at their individual laptops looking for any clues of where you might be. They figured the shifter was probably moving on foot, so he couldn’t have gone too far in the time that Y/N went outside and they tore apart the salvage yard looking for you. Dean jumped into the Impala after the security footage turned out to be a bust, and drove damn near across South Dakota looking for any sign of you. 

Sam sighed loudly, taking a huge drink from the crappy gas station coffee, Dean grabbed before heading back to the house, knowing they needed be alert.

“Dean, I think it’s time you called Cas...” Dean nodded once. It had been almost 6 hours since you were taken and every minute that passed had Dean screaming on the inside, desperate to find you. 

Taking a deep breath, he put his hands together in prayer, muttering for Castiel, angel of the Lord, to get his feathery ass down here. That they needed him. Throwing in a ‘please’ for good measure. 

Dean opened his eyes when he heard the rustling that could only be the blue-eyed, trenchcoat clad Angel. 

“Hello, Dean.” 

When We Were Young Tag List: @vicmc624 @woundedxsmile @akshi8278

Read part VIII here

[reddeadbread]

Fortunate Ones

Javier Escuella x Reader

Part 1

Summary/notes: Javier Escuella x reader slow burn, I really wanted a fic that could be really long running and I have endless ideas for this already. Part 1 is a long one folks…

fluff and maybe angst but I never write NSFW

word count: 1867

You heard someone trudging through the snow towards you. It was starting to get darker out there and his figure was back lit by the setting sun when you dared to peer out of the crack in the cabin door to see him.

Well this is it now, that’s what you get for travelling alone like that. You cursed yourself in your mind. The figure was getting closer and closer and you didn’t even have a gun, just a pathetic little hunting knife. So this was it after a day of false ends. Bad luck after bad luck. The man pushed open the door and you leapt to your feet, lunging forwards and holding the hunting knife to him anxiously. You weren’t sure if you could go through with such a thing. “stop right there!” you said this in a way you hoped was threatening enough to at least startle him but the mans reflexes were cat-like as he pointed his silver revolver at you instantly. You froze, eyes wide. You were getting pretty sick and tired of having guns pointed at you today, it did seem like lady luck had truly turned her back on you since the moment you opened your eyes that morning.

“I said hand over all your fucking money!” the O’Driscoll had repeated himself after you had failed to hand over enough cash, he spoke with a lilting Irish accent that would probably be pleasant to the ears if he wasn’t threatening to splatter your brains into the pristine white snow on the ground.

“that’s all I have.” You responded, you were nearly penniless, so the men had only gotten a couple of dollars from you. They clearly were not happy about this as they looked at each other and then at the pathetic handful of dollars in their hands.

Maybe you can still survive this yet, “Just take the money and go. Hell, you can take the wagon too.” You didn’t know what you’d do out in the snow without that wagon, but you didn’t like your chances if you didn’t give it to them, so your mind was made up. Besides, technically it wasn’t even your wagon, rather you’d liberated it from a homestead while on your travels. You prayed this would be enough but the twisted smile on the man’s face was telling enough to worry you. The moment you saw it you felt your heart sink.

“Hey fellas, there’s an idea. Let’s take everything!” he lunged forward and grabbed you. You’d already been forced to drop your weapons, but you scrambled for them where they lay in the snow only to be hit in the face by the butt of a rifle. You were knocked down, consciousness fading as you heard the manic giggles of the men as if you were nothing but a toy in their sick game. You felt rope binding your wrists together as they heaved you into the back of the wagon, joking amongst themselves. “You’ll like it with us O’Driscoll boys!” one jeered. You felt blood on your face, your lip cut open although you couldn’t really feel the pain. One grabbed your face to get a better look at you but you managed to regain your senses enough to feel anger and spat blood at him. He had no right to touch you, but he only laughed “a feisty one ay?” he taunted. You had robbed people yourself to survive out here on your own, but this was different. They weren’t just surviving; they were delighting in tormenting innocents. At least you wouldn’t go quietly, whatever they wanted to do to you wasn’t going to be nice and the least you could do was fight.

He was looking at you. You noticed a scar on his neck, it seemed he had a habit of being threatened with knives the same way you had a habit of being threatened with guns. You stepped back a little but kept a hold of the knife pathetically, looking back at him. He was perhaps 5’8 with shoulder length black hair pulled into a ponytail. He was well dressed which immediately struck you as being a little odd in this desolate place. He had taken deadly aim but he didn’t shoot. First he looked at you, standing there, shaking from cold and fear. He looked at the bruises, the blood on your face and the panic in your eyes and holstered his gun, raising his hands as a sign he wouldn’t reach for it again, He felt a little guilty for scaring you like that when it was abundantly clear you had already faced an excruciatingly long day. He certainly knew what those days felt like. “we aren’t here to hurt you.” When he spoke it was with a slight accent, Mexican maybe? You couldn’t be quite sure and now wasn’t the time to make small talk about the man’s heritage. All you knew was his voice was like warm honey and it put you at ease. You clutched the knife still, in shock and unable to believe you’d really got so lucky as to find a little kindness in this world. “Dutch, there’s a girl here.” He called over his shoulder, lowering his hands once he felt sure you wouldn’t try and attack like a cornered animal. His boss could handle this better than he could, he didn’t have the same silver tongue and way with people that always worked so well for Dutch. He stepped closer and gently took the knife from you. As soon as you felt the heat of his hands on yours you released the weapon, the soft touch pulling you into reality again. “see? You’re okay.” Maybe he wasn’t the best at being so gentle, but he had a good heart and he could see you were shaken up.

You looked at him like a deer in headlights for a moment or two more, not letting go of his hands until you finally spoke “sorry…I…they robbed me but I didn’t have anything so they…I’m y/n. It’s been a bad day..” you stammered out, stepping back from him as his boss pushed in.

When you had arrived at the small camp where the O’driscolls were hiding out like cockroaches, the cursing and struggling from you gained the attention of some of the other men at camp, they laughed too. “You got a live one there?” another Irish drawl spoke as you were dragged off of the wagon, a little bruised and worse for wear.

Before the man who had mocked you just a few minutes ago had a chance to speak another word a gunshot cut through the air and split his skull.

In these endless vacant mountains sounds like that always seemed amplified. You stared at the corpse for a split second and felt your stomach turn but your first instinct was to take advantage of the distraction and throw yourself down behind the wagon to shield yourself from the bullets which were now raining down in full force. The second man tried to grab hold of you again, but you kicked him back, out into the open and away from this scrap of safe cover. He was promptly shot in the head.

“Kill every last one of these bastards!” you heard a booming voice that carried even over the sound of gunfire. He must be the leader since you could hear him barking out orders just moments later “push up!”. They were getting closer. You didn’t know who these men were but they didn’t seem awfully friendly. Grabbing a knife off of the first body, you turned it in to cut the rope around your wrists clumsily, trying to crawl your way into the cover of a now empty cabin now the newcomers were approaching, doing your very best not to be spotted as you did.

Once you were inside you didn’t know what to do next. Behind you were the remaining O’Driscolls, although they were quickly thinning out, and in front of you was the gang of strangers. You searched around for a gun you could use to better defend yourself as you heard the hail of bullets finally cease and more voices filled the sudden quiet “Good work boys! We’ll get what we need then clear out!” you heard the leader speak again and for one shining moment felt a glimmer of hope, the tiniest little thread of hope that you’d manage to get out of another near fatal scrape with a little luck. That is until he continued “don’t forget to search the cabins!”.

You’d never considered yourself to be terribly lucky, to be alone in this world was an unlucky thing but maybe your luck was changing. Now you had managed to find perhaps the only outlaws across this land with a shred of morals. For the most part at least. They would help you and it wasn’t as if you had anything to give them.

It was the man who had found you in that cabin who you rode with. In too much of a daze to say much of anything, you were quiet most of the way and he didn’t try to make small talk. You held onto him in silence, he was warm to the touch and you weren’t terribly upset to be close to him after freezing up in these mountains alone for days.

“what’s your name? you never said…” You finally spoke once he helped you down off his horse. You didn’t know any of their names but you felt most interested in his. He looked a little surprised that you would put your attention on him before anyone else.

“oh look, the new girl is already sweet on that little Greaser” The blonde man who had already managed to come across as a human parasite spoke with a mocking air and a smug smile.

“Javier Escuella. Don’t bother learning his name, one of these days someone is going to slit his throat.” He looked at the man threateningly but with complete calm, he definitely wasn’t joking but Micah still chuckled as he slinked away.

Perhaps you should be more alarmed by a man who would threaten a member of his own gang like that, be it indirectly or not, but you weren’t. Maybe you were just biased since he had been good to you despite the fact you were ready to sink a knife into his throat. You weren’t the first to try and maybe he was used to it because he was already a little fond of you despite that. There was something admirable about your tenacity.

“thank you,” you gave him an uneasy smile and pressed a grateful kiss to his cheek.

“Miss! Come in and get warm, I need to speak to everyone and introduce you.” You heard Dutch call to you from the rundown cabin. It was warm and full of mostly friendly people, a welcome sight to you.

You glanced back at Javier again and swore you saw a faint blush on his cheeks and a small smile on his lips until he cleared his throat and gestured for you to go in “Go ahead, I need to deal with the horses.” How embarrassing for him to be flustered over such a thing but the gentleness of it had caught him by surprise. It was very fortunate indeed that they had found you.

[shini--chan]

Allies with an s/o with separation anxiety?

Before I start, one thing – separation anxiety is a big burden for those who have it. So, if you’re reading this and have it, I recommend you seek out treatment.

Warning: abuse of a mental condition

Yandere Allies – Discidium

America

Alfred gleaned at your medical certificate on his computer screen. From experience he knew that the medical history of a person could be very telling, and a lot could be deduced from it. Allergies could be used as torture; medication could be withheld until a trade was offered. But the really interesting part was the psychological section of such reports. They weren’t always filled out, since people didn’t always have noteworthy defects or maladies in that directed. Therefore, when they were, they were all the more insightful.

Keenly, he scrolled down to the sought after part – and wasn’t reported. There, clearly visible, stood a very particular remark:

…patient shows signs of separation anxiety…

It was rather recent too, he realized when he traced the digital footprint. And idea began to form in his mind. As he steeped his fingers together and rested his head on them, a most devious plan of action came one step closer to being realised.

Since Alfred would really turn up the charm when it would come to wooing you, you would quickly become attached to him, a fatal mistake on your behalf. For even if he wouldn’t find out about your metal state from a series of documents, he’d quickly derive the truth from your actions or make you spill the beans. He would portray himself as considerate, only concerned for your wellbeing – which would be why you’d promptly move together.

As cruel as it would be, it would be a boon for him. America wouldn’t have to be concerned about you running away. Out of that reason he wouldn’t install any elaborate locks or security measures – your chains would be intangible. However, he might use your anxiety against you as a form of punishment. Alfred would tie you up in a dark room and leave the house for some time, or threaten to do so.

Canada

Matthew didn’t have to sharpen his ears or turn around to know he was being followed. Who ever it was, was being very obnoxious and clumsy, the snow crunching with every other step. At least they were putting some effort in matching their steps with his. Yet that wasn’t enough to throw him off – it never was.

Without any forewarning, he whirled around and caught sight of the flaps of your dark coat as you leapt behind the thick truck of a fir tree. Not fast enough – Matthew had always been something of a hunter, reflexes sharp as well as his intuition. You’d never be able to beat him in a game of hide-and-seek, or successfully run away from him, not without a giant handicap.

So, you had gotten out. But why hadn’t you used the chance to at least attempt an escape and had rather chosen to tail him?

“Why are you following me? I told you to stay in the house.”

You emerged from your cover, a sheepish look on your fine face. Tangling your fingers together, you approached him, lips twisted as you pressed out.

“I simply didn’t want to be alone.”

An understatement, as he was later to find out.

Matthew would probably find out relatively fast that you’d have separation anxiety. Not because he would obsessively stalk you (he would rather gradually get to know you), but through the obvious behaviours. Whether or not you’d attempt to hide it, he would eventually catch on. And he would be delighted and worried in equal measures.

Delighted, because then he wouldn’t have to worry about you running away. Canada wouldn’t be an extrovert, having a rather reclusive nature for a New World country and a small circle of friends – so he would spend most of his time with you.

Worried, because somewhere in the back of his mind he would know that his feelings for you wouldn’t be right and that you don’t lock people away. Your behaviour would only endorse his in a twisted way.

China

Yao had never been a long sleeper. Maybe it was the centuries that he had already lived or the result of all his lifestyle choices. Nevertheless, his sleep was always brief, 3 hours usually being enough rest. That why when you started twisting and turning in a dreamy haze.

He was just starting a new chapter in his current novel when you started groaning in your sleep, uncoordinatedly swinging your arms around with increasing panic. Upon realising what was going on, he quietly laid his book away and dimmed his reading lamp a bit. Then he turned around to you and waited for you to awaken from your nightmare.

It took a few minutes, worry building in his chest in a poisonous knot as time trickled by. This was why you were always meant to be with him. You were one of the finer things in life for him – in no way tawdry, rather with a splendour and depth. A sort of medication to distract him from the atrocities of the past, present and future. He was the same to you, he was sure of that.

So when you eventually shot up, perspiration on your forehead and tears in your eyes, he felt a sick joy. One that was only amplified when you gasped: “Please don’t ever leave me!”

Family is important to him; marriage is important to you. So you having a mental condition that would cause you to have anxiety attacks at the notion of him leaving you wouldn’t be all that unappealing to him. It would just strengthen your bond, and cause you to be more drawn to him, ignoring all the red flags. Yao would just have to play all his cards right in the beginning.

However, there would also be the issue with the other people in your life – your family and friends. While he wouldn’t mind you staying in touch with your family (with certain limits) your friends would have to leave your life. Something that would be all the more difficult in your case. Still, he would set to the gruelling task of cutting people out of your life and dealing with the fall-out.

England

“You know you would be all alone if you use that knife”, he casually commented, not even turning around to regard you. To you, it seemed as if he hadn’t even lifted his eyes from the newspaper he was so avidly reading, creating the illusion of having eyes in the back of his head. Actually, he had seen your reflection in the window pane when you had started to approach him, the steel glinting marvellously in the sun-light.

It surprised you that he took such a treat so nonchalantly, him as well to an extent. Arthur guessed he wasn’t as shocked he had expected himself to be, because he had intrinsically suspected that such a scene would play out.

“Are you sure, I’d either end up in police custody or…”, you tried to reason before trailing off. You had realised that something was amiss here, and it unsettled you.

Coolly, he set away “The Times” and turned to you, watching you as your resolve crumbled and fear welled up. “Do you really think that?”, he asked.

You trembled, your convictions crumbling. Through hard lessons you had come to learn that he was far more powerful and cunning than he seemed at first glance. At the moment, you didn’t know if he was just bluffing or telling the truth. Probably a mixture of both, and that was bad enough.

Arthur would mercilessly use it against you. You being scared of being separated from him would mean he wouldn’t have to regulate his sharp tongue or his more volatile tendencies. You being scared of being separated from him could be used as a threat, actually separation as a punishment. It would be something he would constantly hold over your head as a means of making you behave and as an insurance on his behalf.

On the other hand, it would also immensely frustrate him. England would be very attached to you, possessive of you, but he would also want to have some quality time with himself. That wouldn’t really be accomplishable with you clinging to him.

France

“Please, don’t leave”, you murmured.

At first, Francis thought he had somehow misheard you, but then, when he glanced up from where he was tying his shoelaces, he saw that he hadn’t. Your eyes were glassy, the skin around your cheeks and collar bone blotchy with the beginnings of a rash and your breathing was shallow.

It puzzled him and delighted him simultaneously. He didn’t know what had provoked such a reaction – it was late at night and he was leaving. Customary at this stage in the relationship since you didn’t live together … yet. To see you already be so attached to him delighted him in a sick way. It also concerned him since he didn’t like seeing you in anguish.

“What is wrong, ma cheri?”, he inquired carefully, standing up and gently cupping your cheeks. He watched with piqued interest as you leaned into his touch, the hypertension leaving your body for a few seconds.

“I get anxious just at the thought of you leaving. Please, at least stay the night.”

Besides being delight about you being drawn to him, like all the other on this list, he would also be very concerned. You having anxiety attacks just at the notion of you leaving would immensely worry him. He would encourage you to seek out treatment, even treat you himself, just to erase the worst parts of your condition.

Apart from actually caring a lot about you, his motivation would be partially selfish. Aiding you in such a manner would convince him that he would be a good person, and in a series of complicated mental gymnastics he would overexaggerate it, and thus convince himself that his obsession with you and all the actions that would spring thereof would be good and virtuous.

Russia

A knock sounded on his door, causing him to look up from the paperwork he had been pouring over for the past two hours. Internally, he snarled. He had said he was only to be disturbed in an emergency, something he had explicitly told the guards.

Nevertheless, he sighed and called out: “State your name and business.”

The answer came immediately, dull from the monotony of the man’s voice and muffled from the wood of the door: “There is somebody here that wants to see you. Had a nervous breakdown in the entrance hall and claimed it was urgent.”

Ivan rolled his eyes at the explanation. He really wasn’t in the mood for dealing with people that had nervous breakdowns anywhere on that matter, thank you very much. He’d really have to have a word or two with the personal here.

“Send them away.”

Instead of an answer, he heard some commotion and swears from beyond the door. Frowning, he stood up, half wanting to go to the door and give the group in front of it a piece of his mind. Yet before he could take a single step or even decide what he wanted to do; the door was slammed open. You stormed in and took a running jump at him.

Ivan would be a lot like Arthur in this scenario. You having separation anxiety would be one of the few things that would completely convince him that you would never leave him or betray him. So, there would be no therapy for you – indeed, he would even take steps to worsen it.

Yet he would also want to have his privacy. Russia would have been alone for a long time, so demanding he go from solitude to constant company would be too much. You following him wherever he would go, even to work and other shady places, would make him feel guilty and remorseful.