#sass levels too high

[shortnspidey]

SILENT RIFT

jj maybank x fem!cameron!reader || WC: 4.5K

SUMMARY: The Pogues finally find the gold they've been searching for after countless obstacles. However, when it comes to actually succeeding, the universe has other plans. Held at gunpoint in the middle of nowhere, a spontaneous decision changes everything. In the heat of the moment, words are said that reveal hidden feelings. Emotions run high, leading them to confront not only their enemies, but also their own emotions.

WARNINGS: established relationship, cursing, mild angst, talks of drugs, typical OBX level violence, suggestive towards the end but no smut!

A/N: Happy OBX 4 release day! This one shot is one of my old Wattpad drafts from when I was writing a JJ story. Enjoy this drabble as I try to publish another chapter of broken record or collateral hearts soon! This ended up being a long one, enjoy! Divider by @marvelstoriesepic

➩ main masterlist

➩ obx masterlist

"Hell of a job melting it down, Dr. Frankenstein," JJ scoffed, narrowing his eyes at Kiara as he stepped out of the Twinkie. He clutched the melted piece of gold tightly in his hand, its weight a tangible reminder of what everyone was expecting him to do. As the group arrived outside a shabby pawn shop on the outskirts of the Outer Banks, the rundown aspect and the graffiti on the walls made your skin crawl. The shops window's were smeared with grime, making it impossible to see inside, and the peeling paint revealed patches of weathered wood.

Kiara shot JJ a glare, her frustration evident in the tight set of her jaw and the clenching of her fists. "Like you could have done any better." She retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. JJ stepped closer, standing toe to toe with her, not backing down from her challenging gaze. "I could have done much better. I took a welding class," He sassed, a smirk playing on his lips. "Woah, woah, hey!" John B chastised, stepping in between his two friends.

His presence seemed to diffuse some of the tension, his calm demeanor acting as a buffer between the two. You followed his lead, grabbing JJ by his arm and rubbing comforting circles with your thumb on his forearm knowing that he was anxious. You could feel the taut muscles in JJ's arm slowly beginning to relax under your touch, the rhythmic motion of your thumb providing a small measure of comfort.

"Chill out, okay?" John B coaxed, his voice gentle but firm. You watched as Kiara's eyes softened slightly, her earlier anger giving way to a mix of concern and frustration. She took a step back, her shoulders sagging as she exhaled deeply. "It's easy for you to say that," JJ scoffed, his voice tinged with bitterness. "You're not the one that has to pawn off this piece of shit." He emphasized his point by holding up the gold bars that were now melted in a unrecognizable shape, the once gleaming metal was now a twisted, misshapen lump.

"How did I get this job anyway?" JJ muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "Cause you're the best liar." Pope replied nonchalantly, his tone matter-of-fact. Letting out a sigh JJ turned to you, his cerulean blue eyes locking with yours. His eyes were a stormy sea, filled with a mix of frustration and determination. He turned his head, tapping his cheek. "Kiss, for you know, good luck." He grinned, his usual mischievous spark returning momentarily. You rolled your eyes at your boyfriends antics yet leaned in to kiss him nonetheless.

Just as your lips were about to collide with his cheek, he turned his head at the last second, smashing his lips with your in a kiss that was way too passionate for it to be in front of your friends. The warmth of his lips, the sudden intensity, made your heart race. You could have sworn you heard your sister mutter an "aww" while everyone else fake gagged, their exaggerated sounds filling the air. Pulling yourself away from the kiss, much to JJ's dismay, you smiled, leaning up and pressing one more chaste kiss to his pouting lips.

The brief contact left a lingering warmth, a promise of more to come. "You got this," You reassured him, squeezing his bicep in emphasis, feeling the tension in his muscles. "Showtime," He mumbled to himself, mentally preparing. Straightening his shoulders, he took a deep breath, and gave you one last look before stepping forward. Behind you, Sarah reached out and squeezed your hand, her grip offering a silent message of solidarity and support. The warmth of her touch was comforting, grounding you in the moment.

Everyone followed JJ into the empty shop, the jingle of the bell on the door announcing your arrival. The sound seemed to echo in the quiet space, a stark contrast to the tension that hung in the air. "Afternoon, ma'am." JJ greeted, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of anxiety. The shop was dimly lit, with dust particles dancing in the beams of barely there sunlight that filtered through the windows. Shelves lined the walls, filled with various trinkets and curiosities, each one telling its own story. “Afternoon.” The pawnbroker, an elderly woman with a stern face and piercing eyes, looked up from behind the counter.

Her gaze swept over your group as you spaced yourselves around the room, lingering on JJ for a moment longer. JJ stepped forward, trying to maintain his composure under her scrutinizing gaze. "I see you buy gold," He emphasized, his voice steady but with a hint of nervousness. "That's what the sign says, don't it?" She retorted, her lips curling into a sneer. She glanced at the sign hanging in the window, its letters faded and worn. "Well, I sure hope you buy a lot of it, because I am about to blow your mind." JJ carefully opened his bag, revealing the items inside. The pawnbroker's eyes never left his hands, watching his every move with a hawk-like intensity.

"I ain't got much mind left to blow, so have at it," She challenged, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Her eyes gleamed with a mix of defiance and curiosity. "How about them gold apples," JJ replied, his voice steady as he placed the melted gold onto the counter with a thump that echoed throughout the shop. The sound seemed to reverberate off the walls, adding a weighty finality to his action. The pawnbroker chuckled cynically, shaking her head. "That ain't real," She declared, her voice filled with disbelief and a hint of mockery. Her eyes flicked to the gold, then back to JJ, as if daring him to prove her wrong.

"That ain't real?" JJ scoffed, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. He leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper. "It can't be," The pawnbroker pressed, her voice faltering slightly as doubt began to creep in. She reached out a tentative hand, her fingers hovering just above the gold, as if afraid to touch it. "Feel how heavy it is," He countered, his voice firm and confident. He nudged the gold closer to her, the metal glinting under the dim light. The pawnbroker hesitated for a moment, her eyes locked on JJ's, searching for any sign of deceit. Finally, she picked up the gold, her fingers curling around it.

Her expression shifted from skepticism to surprise as she felt the weight of the metal in her hand. The shop fell silent, the only sound being the faint creak of the floorboards as she adjusted her stance, the gold weighing heavily in her grasp. "Mhm, here let's get some light on that." The group watched intently as she narrowed her eyes, but nevertheless picked up a nearby magnifying glass with a light, inspecting the chunk of gold closely. "Spray-painted tungsten." She concluded, her voice laced with doubt but still firm.

"Really, okay?" JJ rolled his eyes. "Why don't you see how soft it is." He suggested. "You mind?" The pawnbroker asked, holding up a small mallet, her eyes seeking permission. "No, go for it." JJ urged, his gaze unwavering as he watched her. She brought the mallet down gently, making a small dent in the gold, then pushed down on it for further inspection. "Wow. Would you look at that." JJ remarked sarcastically, a smirk playing on his lips. "Hold your horses, we ain't got the acid test yet." She shot back, her confidence wavering slightly. "Ooh, the acid test," He turned, his eyes locking onto yours, a mischievous glint in them.

"My favorite, baby." He added with a wink, grinning as he noticed how the simple action made you flush. You pretended to be distracted by a limited edition book on the shelf, your heart racing as you tried to avoid his piercing gaze. This was certainly not the place or time. Everyone held their breath as the woman dribbled a few drops of acid on top of the gold. The liquid sizzled slightly, emitting a faint, acrid smell that filled the small shop. "Well, it ain't plated, and it ain't painted," she assessed, her tone now more serious. "Ma'am, I'm telling ya, this is as real as the day is long," He insisted, growing tired of the back and forth, his patience wearing thin.

"It looks like someone tried to melt it down," she raised a brow, her eyes meeting JJ's in a challenging gaze. The air seemed to crackle with unspoken accusations. "My mom," You stepped in, linking your arm through JJ's as the pawnbroker eyed you both suspiciously. "She had all this jewelry laying around the house, and she thought it was best to melt it down to "consolidate" it." You tried to sound as convincing as possible, your voice steady despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. The lie felt heavy on your tongue, but you pushed through, hoping it would be enough to satisfy her.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sarah bite her lip to stop the laugh that she almost let out at your evident lie. The pawnbrokers gaze flickered between you and JJ, her skepticism evident. The silence stretched, each second feeling like an eternity. Turning around with a sigh, she placed the gold into a small scale behind the counter, the scale creaked under the weight. "Seven pounds," Her eyes widened. "That's a lot of earrings." Her voice had a hint of disbelief, and you could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she tried to piece together your story.

"Okay, to be honest, ma'am," JJ spoke, clearing his throat and adopting a more somber tone. "It's really hard to see my fiancé's mom fall apart with Alzheimer's. Breaks my heart, truly." His voice wavered slightly, adding an authentic touch to the fabricated story. "Give me a minute." She tsked, walking towards a secluded office. JJ nodded solemnly, playing into the act of the heartbroken fiancé. "Take your time, ma'am." As soon as she was out of earshot, you turned to give JJ a look of disbelief. "Alzheimer's really?" You whispered, trying to keep your voice low. The absurdity of the situation was almost too much to handle, and you could feel a nervous giggle bubbling up inside you.

"So I talked to my boss, and this is what I can do." The pawnbroker returned, holding a piece of paper with a price written on it. Inspecting it, JJ raised his brows. "Fifty thousand?" He repeated, his voice tinged with incredulity. The offer was far lower than what you had hoped for, and you could see the frustration building in JJ's eyes. "You think I walked in here not knowin' the spot price?" JJ retorted, his voice firm. "I know for a fact this is worth 140 at least." His confidence was unwavering, and you could see the pawnbroker's resolve starting to crack. "Well sweetie, you in a pawn shop. This ain't Zurich." Her voice was firm, but there was a hint of concession in her tone.

"Ninety, or I walk," He bargained, his voice steady. "Seventy, half price, and I don't ask questions about where you got this.” JJ clenched his jaw, looking over at John B, who nodded his head, giving him the green light. "I'm gonna need that in large denominations, please," JJ agreed, his voice calm but resolute. "Well, here's the snag, I don't have that much denominated. Not here anyway, but I can write you a cashier's check." JJ immediately shook his head. “No ma’am, I want the cold hard, that’s what that sign says. Cash for gold, and that’s what I expect.” He pointed to the sign on the wall as emphasis.

“Well, I have to send you to the warehouse. I have the money there. Is that alright?” Everyone in the room held their breath, watching as JJ mentally weighed his options over in his head. “Where’s this warehouse?” He finally asked, his voice steady but with a hint of skepticism. That is how the group found themselves further into the middle of nowhere following the pawnbroker's instructions to the supposed "warehouse". The road was rough and winding, lined with tall, ominous trees that seemed to close in on them as they drove deeper into the unknown.

To say you were on edge would have been a complete understatement. Every creak of the van and small jolt from where you were seated on JJ's lap made your heart race faster. "So, they keep money out here?" Pope voiced aloud the question everyone was probably thinking. His voice broke the silence, but instead of easing the tension, it only seemed to heighten it. The unease in his tone mirrored the anxiety that had settled in your chest. JJ shrugged, attempting to lighten the mood. "That's what she said," He chuckled at his own joke. "That's what she said." His snicker was met with silence, the gravity of their situation overshadowing any chance of humor.

"Stop," Pope warned, his expression hardening. The seriousness in his eyes was a stark contrast to JJ's attempt at levity. "That was cute, but definitely not the time, J," You exasperated, your voice barely above a whisper. The fear and uncertainty in your tone were unmistakable. The blonde boy nodded, his playful demeanor fading. He held onto the melted gold in one hand, the other resting reassuringly on your thigh. The warmth of his touch was a small comfort in the midst of the overwhelming tension. "I've never even heard of Resurrection Drive." Sarah inquired. "That's cause your rich." JJ mumbled under his breath.

"You've never heard of it either." Both you and Kiara retorted in unison. "Thank you." Sarah replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "There's nothing but weeds back here." Kiara informed the group, looking out the van's window and seeing nothing but shrubbery. JJ was about to retort with another sarcastic comment, yet he was interrupted by the sudden, piercing sound of a siren. The noise sliced through the tense silence like a knife. Sure enough, John B looked in the rearview mirror, his eyes widening as he saw the flashing lights of a car behind them, signaling for them to pull over.

"Cops? Out here?" Kiara questioned, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Are you kidding me!" JJ fumed, his grip tightening on the gold and your thigh, the panic in his eyes was evident. "What did we do?" Sarah questioned, her voice small and wavering, the fear clear in her tone. "Stash that," John B whispered urgently to JJ, who was still holding onto the gold in his hand. You quickly got off his lap and sat next to Kiara, your heart pounding in your chest. The van's interior felt even more confined as Pope and John B coaxed JJ to hurry up. The oppressive weight of the situation pressed down on you, making every second feel like an eternity as you waited for what would happen next.

Your heart sank in your chest upon hearing the cock of a gun and seeing a rifle a few inches away from John B's face. The metallic click echoed ominously in the confined space of the van. "Why don't I go ahead and see them hands in the air?" A gruff voice declared, belonging to a mystery assailant who wore a bandana on the lower half of his face. The fear that gripped your heart quickly morphed into a seething anger. You knew that voice. "All of y'alls hands up in the air right now." Oh hell no, you thought to yourself. This was going to end here and now. "No," You seethed, making direct eye contact with your assailant. You could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew you recognized him, and his cover slipped slightly.

The tension in the van was palpable, like a coiled spring ready to snap. Every muscle in your body was tense, ready to spring into action. The familiarity of the voice only fueled your anger, making it harder to think clearly. You could feel the eyes of your friends on you, their fear and confusion mirroring your own. "Just do as he says, Y/N," John B urged, his voice steady but his eyes betraying his fear. He slowly raised his hands, setting an example for the rest of you. "No," You shook your head, challenging him. The defiance in your voice was clear. The assailant's eyes narrowed behind the bandana.

"Alright, tough girl, come on out here then," He taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. "Y/N, what are you doing?" Sarah whimpered, her voice trembling as she watched you step out of the van, the barrel of the gun trained on you. "It's gonna be okay, Sarah," You reassured her, trying to keep your voice calm despite the fear gnawing at your insides. "Y/N!" This time it was JJ. His voice cracked with desperation. As your eyes met his, you could see he was barely holding it together, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. "JJ, trust me, stay here," You coaxed, trying to project as much confidence as you could muster. The last thing you needed was for him to do something reckless.

"I'd listen to the lady, unless you want your brain scattered here on the side of the road," The assailant threatened, his voice cold and unyielding. The weight of his words hung in the air, adding to the already suffocating tension. "I'll be okay, I'll be right back," You promised, hoping your words would be enough to keep your friends from doing anything rash. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever was to come, and stepped further away from the van, feeling the eyes of your friends burning into your back. Once you were a safe distance away from the van, Barry lowered his rifle, letting out a surprised chuckle. "Mighty brave of you, Cameron, especially 'cause I'm the one holdin' the gun." He mocked.

"Oh please," You rolled your eyes, your voice laced with disdain. "Drop the act, Barry," Addressing him by his name with a tone of authority, you crossed your arms over your chest, standing your ground. "We both know Rafe will kill you if you so much as lay a finger on me." You smirked confidently. "Now, why don't we cut to the chase, shall we?" You proposed, your eyes never leaving his as you reached for the shiny gold diamond ring that adorned your knuckle. Barry watched in disbelief as you slipped it off and held it out to him. "Here," You coaxed, handing him the ring. "This will get you a couple thousand dollars if you pawn it off right." Barry took the ring, studying it in the sunlight. "This covers what you and your friends got, but not what country club owes me, you feel me.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest once more, the frustration evident in your posture. "How much does he owe you?" You asked, your voice tinged with exasperation. "At least two hundred," Barry replied, a smirk playing on his lips. Sighing, you reached into your back pocket for your wallet, picking out two hundred dollar bills. "Are we free to go?" You huffed, knowing that if this deal took any longer, your boyfriend would most likely come and take matters into his own hands, whether Barry had a gun or not. "Tell your boy toy that his attitude's gonna get him in trouble," Barry sneered. "Don't," You spat, your eyes narrowing. "If you even think of touching him, we're going to have a problem. You feel me?" You threw back his previous words with a defiant glare.

Raising his hands in mock surrender "Damn, looks like I hit a nerve." Barry chuckled. "I mean it, Barry," You insisted, your voice steady and unwavering. With one final smirk in your direction, Barry pockets the cash and the ring and climbs into his car without a single look back in your direction. You let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding and turn back towards the van. As you approached, the tension was palpable, hanging thick in the air. "What the hell was that?" Sarah was the first to question you, her eyes wide with concern as you climbed into the backseat as if nothing had happened.

"I handled it, it's over." You shrugged nonchalantly, but the tightness in your chest betrayed your calm facade. Sarah scoffed, clearly unconvinced by your bravado. "That was pretty stupid, Y/N," Kiara scolded, her voice filled with frustration. Everyone nodded in agreement, their faces a mix of worry and disapproval. You shrugged them off, trying to meet JJ's eyes, who had yet to say anything. You could see the worry and anger battling for dominance in his eyes, the tension in his jaw making it clear just how much he was holding back. "Let's get out of here," John B broke the silence, his voice a calm command that cut through the tension. Everyone was unharmed, yet you somehow knew this was far from over.

Arriving back at the Château, you watched JJ throw open the door before John B even parked his van. The sound of the door slamming against the wall echoed through the air. You watched as JJ stormed inside, his movements quick and agitated. One hand was gripping his chest, his knuckles white from the pressure, while the other was balled into a tight fist, veins visible under his skin. He didn't look back, his anger propelling him forward. John B, Kiara, Sarah, and Pope turned to you, their faces a mix of concern and curiosity. It was as if they were silently asking if they should get involved, their eyes darting between you and the direction JJ had gone.

"I'll handle it," You sighed, feeling the weight of the situation settle on your shoulders. You stepped down from the van, the gravel crunching under your feet. "Good luck," John B sing-songed, a teasing lilt in his voice. You flipped him off with a smirk, hearing Sarah and Kiara scold him in unison. Their voices faded as you walked through the door, the familiar scent of the Château enveloping you. You found JJ in the spare bedroom, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. His footsteps were heavy, each step reverberating through the wooden floor. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, filled with a storm of emotions - anger, frustration, and a hint of vulnerability.

"JJ, talk to me," You urged softly, stepping closer. Your voice was calm, trying to soothe the tempest within him. He stopped pacing and turned to face you fully. His expression was a mix of anger and hurt, his jaw clenched tightly. "What the hell were you thinking, Y/N? You could've gotten yourself killed!" His voice cracked slightly, betraying the fear behind his anger. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, but you took a deep breath to steady yourself. "He's the scumbag who sells coke to my brother. I know him and what he's capable of. As much of a psychotic asshole as he is, he wouldn't hurt me. Not without facing Rafe's wrath." That only made JJ angrier. "How are you so sure?"

He shook his head, his eyes narrowing as he stepped closer, the space between you shrinking. "Maybe next time you won't be so lucky, or I won't be there to protect you." His voice was low, almost a growl, and you could see the worry etched into his features, mingling with the anger. His fists were clenched at his sides, and his breathing was ragged. "I'm fine," you replied, trying to sound reassuring. "It's over now." "Over?!" JJ's voice rose, and he ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Dammit Y/N, you don't get it!" He screamed, pulling his hair in frustration. "I was fucking terrified. Did you know how scared I felt, watching the woman I love being held at gunpoint?" His voice broke, and you could see the tears welling up in his eyes, though he tried to blink them away.

You opened your mouth, but nothing seemed to come out. The weight of his words hung in the air, heavy and significant. "What did you just say?" You finally managed to whisper, your heart pounding in your chest. JJ stayed quiet, almost as if processing the words himself. His breathing slowed, and he looked away, his shoulders slumping. The vulnerability in his stance was palpable, and it hit you just how deeply he cared. This was more than just anger; it was fear of losing someone he couldn't bear to lose. "JJ," You coaxed to stop him from overthinking, knowing that his flight or fight mode was kicking in.

JJ's confession hung in the air, the raw emotion in his voice making your heart ache. You could see the fear and love in his eyes, and it made everything else fade away. The room seemed to shrink, and all that mattered was the two of you, standing there, vulnerable and exposed. "I love you, Y/N," He repeated, his voice softer this time, filled with a desperate need for you to understand. He took a hesitant step closer, his eyes searching yours for any sign of rejection. Your breath hitched, the intensity of the moment overwhelming. Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your hands reaching up to cup his face. "I'm so sorry, JJ," You whispered, your voice trembling.

"I didn't mean to scare you, but I couldn't just stand there and do nothing either." His eyes softened, the anger melting away as he leaned into your touch. "Just promise me you'll be more careful," He murmured, his forehead resting against yours. "I can't lose you, Y/N." He whimpered leaning his forehead against yours. "You won’t lose me, ever, I promise," You replied, your voice barely above a whisper. Without another word, you both closed the distance between one another, your lips meeting in a kiss that was both tender and fervent. It was a kiss that spoke of all the fear, the love, and the relief you both felt. Bodies pressed together, seeking comfort and connection, hearts beating as one.

“And I love you too,” You grinned the second he pulled away giving you both a moment to catch your breaths. “In case that kiss didn’t make it clear enough.” JJ shook his head, only pulling you closer. "What do you say we seal the deal?" JJ grinned suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows. "You're lucky I love you." He didn't even give you a chance to finish his sentence before he kissed you again, wanting to show you just how much he meant it. His hands slid down your back, pulling you even closer, the heat between you growing more intense. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in a moment that promised so much more to come.

[solxamber]

Trash Novel Chronicles: I Want to Retire - Idia Shroud x reader

You write a novel that reads like a dumpster fire and while trying to delete the draft, you accidentally get isekai’d into it. Now, as the villainess you have to get Idia Shroud on your side as well as survive high society. You have your work cut out for you.

Series Masterlist

You’ve lived a life. A noble life, full of honor, glory, and caffeine-fueled late-night writing sessions.

You're an aspiring author.

An aspiring author who, unfortunately, just created the most stupid novel plot of all time.

At least, that’s how it feels. You sit back, staring at your screen, utterly defeated as your latest creation flickers mockingly before you.

You’ve named it: "The Battle for Genius Prince Idia’s Hand" (working title, don’t judge). And wow, it’s a mess.

Here’s the breakdown of your disaster:

You’ve got your heroine—a girl so sweet she’s practically made of sugar, like one of those cookies that look good but crumble the second you bite into them. Naturally, she’s fighting for the affection of your male lead, Prince Idia, who is a socially awkward, genius mechanic prince (because you thought it’d be fun to make him hot and bad with people).

Then there’s the villainess. Ah, the villainess. She’s smart, sharp-tongued, and has enough sass to level a small city. Her entire personality? Sabotage. And she’s also after Idia—because apparently, that’s the only thing women in this story care about. (You regret this immensely.)

But oh no! Plot twist! Idia gets kidnapped by some unnamed evil force (you’ll figure it out later). The heroine? Well, instead of rescuing him, she falls for some Bland Prince. You don’t even know why. You think his name might be Greg. Or Gerald. Honestly, he’s that unremarkable.

Meanwhile, the villainess doesn’t even care anymore about Idia. Instead, she’s full-on dedicated to ruining the heroine’s new, bland romance because… well, that’s her whole schtick.

It’s… awful.

You sit back, hands in your hair, groaning aloud. “What is this? Who would even read this?”

You glance at your notes. They’re a chaotic mess of random scribbles: “Idia = genius, but hates people,” “Villainess needs more fire,” and “Heroine? Too boring. Spice her up. Maybe dragons?”

Yeah. This isn’t working.

You slump in your chair, utterly defeated. The characters are good, great even! But the plot? Oh, the plot is a dumpster fire. No, worse. It’s a flaming dumpster floating down a river of bad decisions. You can’t believe you spent hours writing this.

That’s it. You’re scrapping the entire thing. You’ll keep the characters, sure. But the story? Gone. Deleted. No one needs to suffer through this mess.

Determined, you crack your knuckles and reach for the keyboard, ready to hit the big red “DELETE” button on your disasterpiece.

“Say goodbye to this trash heap,” you mutter, “and hello to some actual good writing.”

But, alas, the universe has other plans.

Just as your finger hovers over the delete key, the worst possible thing happens. Your elbow, as if possessed by the forces of chaos itself, nudges the precariously balanced coffee cup on your desk. The liquid inside, which you had so carefully placed right next to your laptop like a ticking time bomb, tips. In slow motion, you watch the dark, caffeinated doom spill over the edge and land directly onto your keyboard.

“No, no, no, no, NO!” you shout, lunging forward, but it’s too late.

The coffee floods your keys like a tidal wave of misfortune. Your laptop makes a sickening little noise, a soft bzzt, and the screen flickers ominously. You sit there, frozen in horror, watching your computer sizzle as if it’s been cursed by the gods of terrible life choices.

And then—just when you think it couldn’t get worse—it gets worse.

There’s a small, but very real, spark. You flinch back, because nothing good ever comes from sparks. The screen flickers violently, the keys start to buzz, and then—before you can even process what’s happening—you feel it.

ZAP!

Electricity courses through your body. Your vision flashes white, your muscles seize, and in one horrifyingly comedic moment, you realize you’re being electrocuted by your own laptop.

You’d scream if you could, but all you manage is a high-pitched whimper before everything goes black.

Dead. You’re dead. Killed by your own coffee and a poorly thought-out novel. Fantastic.

You blink your eyes open, your head pounding like you’ve been hit with a ton of bricks—or, more likely, an electrical charge. Slowly, your vision clears, and you find yourself… staring at an unfamiliar, ornately decorated ceiling.

Where the hell are you?

You sit up with a groan, and that’s when it hits you: the bed. It’s massive, plush, and absurdly luxurious—definitely not your usual ratty mattress. Panic sets in, and you scramble out of bed, only to catch your reflection in a nearby mirror.

It’s not your reflection.

Oh.

Oh, Shit.

Staring back at you is her. The villainess. The sharp-tongued, drama-fueled antagonist of your novel. The one with a penchant for ruining lives and stealing the spotlight. The one you made up.

You gasp, gripping the sides of the mirror. “No. NO.” You stare at the dark hair cascading over your shoulders, the perfectly arched brows, and the terrifyingly intense smirk that seems to have a life of its own. “Why am I her? Why this of all characters?”

You step back from the mirror and slap your cheeks, half hoping that’ll wake you up from this fever dream. It doesn’t. You’re still stuck in the body of the villainess, and with each passing second, reality—or whatever twisted version of it this is—sinks in deeper.

“Of course,” you mutter, throwing your hands up in frustration. “Of course this is my life now. I write the dumbest novel in existence, and this is what I get.” You pace in front of the mirror, ranting to no one in particular. “Who even thinks it’s a good idea to make me the villainess? Me?! I didn’t sign up for this!”

After a few minutes of thoroughly berating yourself—and by extension, the cosmic forces that brought you here—you finally stop, resting your hands on your hips.

“Okay. Fine. FINE. I’ll play your stupid game, universe.” You throw one last glare at your reflection. “But I’m not tormenting the heroine. Nope. She can have her stupid one-sided rivalry for all I care. I want nothing to do with this mess.”

The decision made, you shake your head and take a deep breath. “Alright, what’s next?” You glance around the villainess’s extravagant room, trying to figure out your next move. And then, a lightbulb goes off in your head.

Prince Idia.

In your novel, he’s socially awkward, reclusive, and definitely doesn’t deserve to get caught up in this disaster. He’s just collateral damage in your sorry excuse for a plot, and honestly? You feel kinda bad about it.

You snap your fingers. “That’s it. I’ll find Prince Idia. Save him or something. Maybe I can even get a reward for rescuing a royal!” You’re feeling pretty good about this plan—much better than sticking around and causing drama with the heroine, at least.

With a dramatic flourish (you are still the villainess, after all), you head for the door, ready to track down Idia and redeem yourself in whatever twisted way you can manage. Who knows, maybe this whole situation won’t be as bad as you thought.

Or… maybe it’ll be even worse. But you’ll cross that bridge when you get to it.

After what feels like hours of arguing with your stubborn, uptight butler—who is absolutely convinced that your decision to head straight for the abandoned palace at the edge of town is the worst idea you’ve ever had—you finally break free.

“If anyone was kidnapped, that’s where they’d be!” you shout over your shoulder as you march toward your carriage, ignoring his protests about "safety" and "reckless behavior."

Butler or not, you’re on a mission. And after a bumpy ride to the palace, here you are, standing at the entrance, waiting for the traps or menacing guards to pounce.

...Nothing.

It’s strangely anticlimactic, actually. You push open the door, expecting maybe a cackle or some ominous fog. But no, just dust and an eerie silence. You frown, stepping cautiously inside.

“What kind of royal abduction is this? Budget cuts?”

Just as you’re about to chalk this whole thing up to a monumental waste of time, you hear it—a low curse, followed by the distinct sound of tinkering. You freeze, listening closer.

Definitely someone messing with something.

Your hand instinctively reaches for your trusty gun (bless past-you for deciding guns belonged in this novel), and with practiced ease, you pull it out and slam open the nearest door.

"Hands up!" you yell, pointing the barrel directly at—

A very, very scared Prince Idia, crouching beside what looks like a half-assembled mechanical gadget. His wide, shocked eyes meet yours, and he lets out a startled yelp, nearly knocking over the tools scattered around him.

"Wh-What the hell?!" you blurt, lowering the gun slightly. This was not the daring rescue scene you imagined.

Idia flinches, awkwardly raising his hands. “I—uh, I don’t know who you are, but how did you even find me?!” he stammers, looking at you like you just kicked his favorite gaming console.

"How did I—? Are you kidding me?" You gesture dramatically with the gun, still in shock. "I’m one of the people you were supposed to choose from! Remember? The whole ‘Battle for the Hand of Prince Idia’ thing?”

He blinks at you, deadpan. “Oh… Oh, no,” he mutters, more to himself than you. “Absolutely not. I’m not going back. I staged this whole thing for a reason.” He crosses his arms, stubborn. “I’ll just stay here with my gadgets. You can go back to… whatever you do.”

You stare at him, flabbergasted. “What do you mean you staged this?” You glance around the dusty, decrepit palace. “This is your brilliant escape plan? Hiding out in the palace equivalent of a haunted IKEA?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, it’s quiet, it’s out of the way, and no one bothers me here. I didn’t get kidnapped, okay? I just—didn’t want to deal with all the royal court nonsense.” He shrugs, as if staging a fake kidnapping is the most logical thing in the world.

“You do realize that Ortho is still at the palace, right? Your little brother? Alone? Without you?” You raise an eyebrow, watching the slow dawning horror creep across Idia’s face.

“Yeah, so?” He huffs. “He’s the Crown Prince now. I’m sure he’s fine—"

“Bro,” you interrupt, “have you seen high society? Ortho’s gonna get eaten alive. Not to mention the other princes aren’t just gonna let him waltz around with a crown on his head without making his life miserable.”

Idia’s eyes go wide, his brain clearly working overtime as the realization hits him like a ton of bricks. “Oh… Oh no. I didn’t think of that.”

You nod sagely. “Yeah. Big oops.”

He stares at the ground, looking like he’s physically shrinking under the weight of his own bad decisions. And then—something unthinkable happens.

“Help me,” he says, his voice desperate. He looks up at you with pleading eyes. “Please. I’ll—I’ll make you anything you want, build you gadgets, whatever you need! Just help me navigate high society while I… hide in the shadows or whatever.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Are you… Are you asking me to pose as your fake fiancée?”

Idia flushes crimson, his hands flailing. “N-No! Well, maybe? Yes. I mean, yeah, but it’s not like I want to—" He groans, burying his face in his hands. “Just… ugh. Yes. Please.”

You cross your arms, tapping your chin. “Hmm. Fake engagement, huh? Alright, but only if you give me a beach house when this farce is over and Ortho officially takes the crown.”

Idia looks up at you, blinking in surprise. “A beach house? That’s your condition?”

You smirk. “Hey, I know what I want. So, do we have a deal?”

He hesitates for a moment, but then sighs, defeated. “Fine. You get the beach house. Just… make sure no one talks to me. Or atleast, you have to handle almost all the talking.”

With a satisfied nod, you extend your hand. “Deal.”

Idia, still red-faced and awkward, shakes your hand. You can’t help but wonder what sort of chaos you’ve just agreed to—but at least you’re getting a beach house out of it.

Sneaking Idia back to your manor wasn’t the most glamorous affair. He insisted on wearing a cloak, “for dramatic effect,” even though the streets were practically empty.

"You know, for a guy who's supposed to be a genius, you're real bad at blending in," you deadpan as he stumbles over his own cloak.

"It’s supposed to make me inconspicuous," Idia mutters, pulling the hood down further. "People see a cloak, they assume you’re some weirdo and leave you alone. It’s basic stealth mechanics."

“Uh-huh. And tripping on it helps too?”

“Shut up.”

Once inside the manor, you sit him down to discuss the details of how you’re going to spin this whole ‘rescue’ thing. Idia, now a little more at ease, starts fiddling with some gadget he pulled from one of his cloak’s hidden pockets. You can't tell if he's actually paying attention, but you figure you’d better get started.

"Okay," you say, leaning in like you’re about to hatch the greatest scheme of your life. "We need a story. Something grand. Heroic. Full of intrigue, mystery—"

“Or we could just say I, uh, got lost?” Idia offers halfheartedly. “And you happened to find me by accident. That sounds more plausible.”

You shoot him a look. "Idia, this is high society. No one ‘just gets lost for 3 months.’ We need something more exciting. Like, I fought off a band of rogue kidnappers—"

“Did you now?”

“And there was this epic battle—"

“With what? Your sense of direction?”

You glare. “Focus. We need an alibi."

Idia sighs. “Fine, whatever. Make it sound cool, but not too cool. If it’s too impressive, people will start thinking I owe you something.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I already have an idea of what you owe me,” you say, smirking.

His eyes narrow in suspicion, but you move on.

"Alright, so I 'bravely' tracked you down to the abandoned palace—"

"Because obviously that's where I'd be hiding," Idia interrupts sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"—and I singlehandedly defeated a gang of ruthless kidnappers, saving you from a life of captivity. You, overwhelmed by my gallantry, are forever in my debt—"

Idia snorts. "Forever in your debt? Yeah, right. You're more likely to find me dead than in your debt."

“Just go with it. It’s a good story.”

Eventually, you both settle on a suitably ridiculous tale where you, after days of tireless investigation, heroically rescued him from an evil plot to overthrow the royal family. It's unnecessarily elaborate, full of conveniently absent witnesses and a dramatic escape from a non-existent dungeon. The whole thing’s so ridiculous, you almost feel bad for making anyone listen to it.

“Right,” you say, standing up. “Now we just need to sell this at court.”

When you arrive at the palace, Idia hangs back while you step forward, playing your part as the "heroic rescuer." Ortho’s the first one to spot you, and when his eyes land on Idia, they widen with shock and excitement.

“Brother!” Ortho shouts, practically flying over to tackle Idia in a hug. “I knew you’d come back!”

Idia, not really one for public displays of affection, awkwardly pats Ortho’s head. “Yeah, yeah, don’t make a big deal out of it,” he grumbles, though you can see the tiny smile tugging at his lips. “I was, uh, working on some top-secret stuff. Y’know, important genius-level projects.”

Ortho beams. “That sounds just like you!”

You have to hold back a snicker. Yeah, real “top-secret.” Like avoiding social interaction at all costs.

Soon, you’re ushered into the royal court. The king—who clearly knows something is up—doesn't look remotely surprised by the "revelation" that Idia was never actually kidnapped. But, because royal politics are weird, he plays along.

“So, Prince Idia,” the king says, raising an eyebrow, “I suppose you’ll want the Crown Prince title back now that you’ve returned?”

Idia freezes, panic flashing in his eyes. "Uh, absolutely not. Hard pass. Nope. Ortho’s got it handled, right? He can keep the whole… crown… thing.”

Ortho nods eagerly from behind him. “I’ve got it covered!”

The king sighs but nods. “Very well. And what about you?” He turns to you. “Surely, a brave soul such as yourself deserves a reward.”

Here it comes. You’ve rehearsed this with Idia, but now that you’re on the spot, you can’t help the dramatic flair in your voice as you clasp your hands together and say, “All I ask… is for Prince Idia’s hand.”

The king looks thoroughly amused, while Idia, beside you, is turning a very interesting shade of red.

“What?” Idia hisses under his breath. “That was not the line.”

You grin, leaning closer. “Yeah, but you have to admit, it’s funnier this way.”

To his credit, Idia doesn’t collapse on the spot, though he does look like he’s reconsidering his life choices.

Meanwhile, from across the room, you catch the third prince—your so-called "male lead"—glaring daggers at you. He looks like he's about to burst a blood vessel, while the heroine next to him is scandalized beyond belief.

“B-but Idia’s hand was supposed to be won!” she protests, clearly flustered.

You tilt your head innocently. “Oh? Not satisfied with the third Prince?” you ask, batting your lashes at her.

Her face goes red, and the Bland Prince—whoever he is—looks equally scandalized.

Next to you, Idia quietly high-fives you behind his back.

“Nice one,” he whispers.

As you both walk away from the court, Idia glances over at you, his usual sarcasm softened by relief. “You know, I really thought I’d end up hating this whole scheme, but you’re not bad at playing the part.”

You chuckle, nudging him. “Told you it’d be fun. And now I get a beach house, so it’s a win-win.”

Idia sighs but can’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make me go to any more parties, okay?”

“Deal.”

You’re sitting across from Idia in the study, supposedly "spending time together" to prove to the world how deeply smitten you both are. In reality, though, you’re plotting out your beach house retirement plan, while Idia is hunched over his latest gadget, muttering like a mad scientist.

"Okay, so if I tweak this—boom, self-repairing AI drone. Easy. The idiots at court would never get it," he whispers to himself, eyes glued to the wires and gears he's fiddling with.

You’re busy doodling floor plans of your dream beach house, adding an extra pool for fun. “Yeah, totally, sweetheart,” you mumble, pretending to listen. This fake relationship thing is going swimmingly.

That’s when the door flies open, and in waltzes the male lead—of course he doesn't knock. The guy practically drips entitlement as he saunters in, admiring himself in the reflection of a spoon he’s for some reason carrying.

Without missing a beat, you and Idia scramble to look like actual lovers. You slide closer to him, casually tossing an arm over his shoulders, and he—already flustered—just stiffens like he’s been caught in a trap.

“I see you two are enjoying each other’s company,” the male lead says, not even looking up from his spoon reflection. “I came to invite you to the tea party. You know, with all the nobles. The whole ‘Idia’s too traumatized to socialize’ excuse isn’t gonna fly anymore. It’s been three months.”

Idia’s eyes widen, and you can practically hear his soul leave his body. You give him a reassuring nudge.

“Don’t worry,” you whisper. “I’ll do all the talking. You just have to sit there, sip tea, maybe nibble on a pastry, and nod at Ortho. I’ve got the rest covered.”

Idia doesn’t look convinced, but he nods anyway. “Sure, sure, as long as I don’t have to, like, interact.”

The two of you arrive at the tea party, and the moment you step into the garden, you realize you're absolutely screwed. It’s not a tea party at all—it’s some weird medieval Olympics with archery targets set up, and a bunch of nobles are taking turns shooting arrows while their wives cheer them on.

“What… is this?” you whisper, horrified. “Why are there archery targets at a tea party? Is this... a misogyny power trip?”

Idia looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. He’s already backing away slowly, trying to make his great escape, but you grab him by the back of his cloak before he can bolt.

He shoots you a look like you’ve just committed the ultimate betrayal. “This... is not a tea party. You said tea and pastries. Where are the pastries?!”

“I didn’t know!” you hiss back. “I thought we’d just sip tea and gossip about whose cousin married whose horse!”

Before either of you can make another move, the heroine spots you and immediately latches onto your arm, dragging you to the tea table. At the same time, the male lead grabs Idia and hauls him over to the archery side.

"Wait—no—uh—" Idia stammers, but he’s already been thrown into the testosterone-fueled chaos of nobles trying to outdo each other.

Thinking fast, you impulsively declare, “I’ll be the one doing the archery! For my fiancé, of course. You know, because those thugs that kidnapped him? They had bows too!”

Idia, catching on, immediately puts on his best terrified expression. “Y-Yeah! Bows! I’m… I’m still traumatized! Please don’t make me relive it.”

The crowd collectively gasps, and you inwardly pat yourself on the back. Nailed it.

Somehow, despite knowing absolutely nothing about archery, you end up winning the whole thing. Turns out, none of the nobles have actually seen a bow before. You didn’t even hit the bullseye—you just got the arrow near the target, which was apparently enough to impress them.

The prize? A complex-looking mechanical device, something straight out of Idia’s dream workshop. You look at it, completely clueless, before handing it over to him.

“Uh, here. I have no idea what to do with this.”

Idia stares at the device, his eyes wide in disbelief. “You’re… giving it to me?” He looks touched but also suspicious. “You’re not gonna ask for some crazy favor in return?”

You shake your head. “Nah. It’s all yours. Consider it a thank-you for not leaving me to deal with this disaster alone.”

He blinks, clearly not used to receiving gifts without strings attached. “Well… uh, thanks. And… good job on the archery. You, uh, really sold the ‘traumatized fiancé’ bit.”

Before you can respond, the rest of the nobles start talking about "true love," and you can practically feel the heroine’s eyes boring holes into you. She’s fuming, glaring at the male lead—who, by the way, didn’t win—and looks like she’s about five seconds away from tearing out her hair.

You shoot her a smug grin, thoroughly enjoying her frustration. Idia, who’s been watching the whole thing with mild amusement, lightly bumps you with his elbow.

“Thanks for… you know, saving me from whatever that was. And for giving me this… thing,” he says, holding up the device.

“No problem,” you reply, smirking. “I think we’re pulling off this whole ‘smitten lovers’ thing pretty well.”

Idia snorts, trying to suppress a smile. “Yeah, well, if you keep dragging me to ‘tea parties’ like this, we’re gonna need to come up with a better plan. Preferably one where I don’t have to socialize with archery-obsessed nobles.”

“Deal,” you laugh. "Next time, I'll find a real tea party."

"Please don't."

You’re lounging on a comfy chair, lazily chatting with Ortho, who’s happily explaining some new contraption he and Idia worked on. You’re half-listening, more focused on sipping tea and enjoying the rare moment of peace in this chaotic castle.

That is, until Idia suddenly appears in front of you, looking unusually determined. He stands there, awkwardly shifting his weight, before thrusting his hand out in front of you.

Without thinking, you blink up at him and, in your confusion, place your chin on his outstretched palm. You give him a questioning look, waiting for further instruction.

Idia’s face immediately flushes a deep red. “W-What are you doing?! That’s not—I didn’t—gah!”

Ortho’s trying not to laugh, but it’s clear he’s barely holding it together.

“What?” you ask innocently. “You held out your hand, so I thought…”

Idia runs a hand through his hair, clearly flustered, before spluttering, “I—no, I was asking for your gun!”

“Oh. Right.” Without hesitation, you hand him the trusty weapon you always keep on hand, because at this point, you’ve learned to never question what Idia needs. It’s always better that way.

“Thanks,” he mutters, grabbing it like he’s on a mission and rushing off to whatever secret lair he retreats to.

You glance at Ortho, who’s giggling to himself. “Do you think I should be worried about that?”

“Nah,” Ortho says with a cheerful shrug. “He’s probably just making modifications. He’ll be fine!”

The next day, your luck runs out. Just when you were hoping for another peaceful afternoon, the heroine arrives for a surprise visit, dragging along her little posse of noble followers. You’re seated in a stiff parlor chair, forced to endure the barrage of small talk and fake smiles, feeling as if the universe is punishing you for all the nonsense you wrote in that novel.

One of the heroine’s cronies leans in with a sickeningly sweet voice, “Oh my, Lady Heroine, I just love your new gown. You look positively radiant. Unlike some people who seem to… dress for comfort, I suppose.”

You shoot her a withering glare, but it’s hard to focus when the heroine herself joins in, adding with a falsely sympathetic tone, “It must be so difficult for you, pretending to fit into high society. I can’t imagine how exhausting it must be, keeping up appearances.”

You’re just about to snap back when, suddenly, the door bursts open. In comes Idia, holding your gun, looking both determined and completely out of his element. For a brief, terrifying moment, you wonder what kind of chaos he’s about to unleash.

Before you can ask, he walks straight over to you and hands it to you, his expression serious. “Here. I finished the modifications.”

Your jaw drops as Idia starts rattling off a list of improvements. “So, I increased the firepower by 30%, added a cooling mechanism so it doesn’t overheat, and now it’s got an auto-targeting system that can scan multiple threats at once. Oh, and I swapped the trigger to be more responsive, so you won’t have any lag—”

You can’t help but notice how animated he looks. His usual deadpan expression is replaced by a lively spark in his eyes as he talks about all the intricate details. He’s completely in his element, and you find yourself enchanted by the way he speaks. It’s rare to see him so passionate, so alive.

The moment is shattered when he finally notices the others in the room. His face drains of color, and he gives a forced smile that screams I don't want to be here. Without another word, he turns on his heel and flees the room. But you notice something strange—he had been holding your hand the entire time. His grip, tight and warm, leaves a lingering sensation even after he’s gone.

You’re left holding your newly modified gun, your face heating up as you process what just happened. The heroine's entourage are all staring at you with wide eyes, as if they’ve just witnessed the most romantic moment of the century. Even the butler, who’s usually the epitome of professionalism, is grinning like he’s just uncovered the secret to eternal happiness. The maids nearby are giggling behind their hands, clearly entertained.

You glance down at the gun, then back to where Idia disappeared. Great, you think to yourself. How am I supposed to survive this?

As if reading your mind, the heroine gives you a smug smile. “It seems your fiancé is quite… attached. How charming.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the sudden rush of blood to your cheeks. “Yeah, he’s a real romantic,” you mutter sarcastically.

But even as you try to brush it off, your thoughts keep returning to that sparkle in Idia’s eyes, the way he had held your hand, and the way his enthusiasm had made your heart skip a beat. Maybe this royal con is going to be more complicated than you expected… but also, maybe not as bad as you feared.

Dragging Idia to get fitted for the imperial ball is like trying to drag a cat into a bathtub. He’s actively resisting, feet planted as you haul him toward the tailor with all the enthusiasm of a man being led to the gallows.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” he groans, leaning back so far you think he might just throw himself on the floor in protest. “An angel loses its wings every time you make me do this. Do you want heaven to be wingless? Is that what you want? To singlehandedly destroy heaven?”

“I’m aiming to open a black market for wings, yes,” you say, deadpan, yanking him forward. “The profits will be incredible.”

“You’re a menace,” he mutters, shuffling along behind you, still resisting like a particularly stubborn mule. “Just put me in a broom closet with a bag of chips and leave me there. I don’t need to go to this ball. No one wants to see me.”

“I do,” you quip. “I’m dragging you into society, one unwilling step at a time.”

By the time you actually manage to get him dressed, you feel like you’ve aged five years. But when you take a step back to admire the result, it’s worth it. Idia looks stunning, even if he’s fidgeting like his clothes are secretly made of fire ants. He’s basically the human version of a rare collectible: usually hidden away, but absolutely jaw-dropping when you finally get to see him.

“Alright, Prince Drama,” you say, exhaling, “I’m going to get dressed. Try not to set anything on fire while I’m gone.”

When you return, you immediately notice something’s up. Ortho’s whispering something to Idia, and whatever it is, it’s causing a nuclear-level blush to spread across his face. He’s stiff as a board, and when he turns around and sees you in your ball attire, he goes straight from “mildly panicked” to “catastrophic system error.”

Without warning, he chucks a flower at you. Just full-on throws it like it’s a projectile weapon.

“Here,” he croaks out, his voice cracking halfway through.

You blink, catching the flower mid-air with one hand. “Uh, thanks? Were you... trying to plant this on me?”

Idia’s face somehow manages to get even redder. “No—I mean yes—I mean—” He looks around for help, but Ortho just gives him an unhelpful thumbs up from the corner.

You grin, deciding to help the poor guy out. “Why don’t you pin it in my hair instead?”

His hands shake as he fumbles with the pin, and you’re pretty sure he’s using every ounce of self-control not to stab you in the scalp. You bite your lip, trying not to laugh, but the whole situation is just too funny. Especially when Ortho gives you a conspiratorial wink from behind Idia’s back like he’s this close to winning a bet.

The ball itself is, as expected, a social hellscape. You and Idia survive by sticking together like conjoined twins, fending off the waves of nosy nobles and fake smiles. You can practically see the stress radiating off of Idia, his expression one of pure misery.

And then, the king makes his grand address, signaling the start of the first dance. You feel Idia stiffen beside you.

“Oh no,” he mutters, “Oh no. This is where it all goes downhill. I’ll trip, I’ll break my leg, and then they’ll throw me in the royal dungeon for embarrassing the family.”

“Relax,” you say, squeezing his hand. “It’s just one dance. I’ll lead, you follow. Easy.”

“I hate this,” he mumbles as you drag him onto the floor. “I hate everything about this. I should have just set myself on fire and gotten out of it that way.”

But despite his protests, you manage to lead him through the first few steps of the waltz. To your surprise, he’s not completely hopeless. He stumbles a little at first, but with you guiding him, he starts to get the hang of it.

“You’re doing great,” you say encouragingly.

“Stop lying,” he grumbles. “I’m one misstep away from taking us both out like a bowling ball hitting pins.”

The music continues, and with every turn and spin, you notice the room around you fading into the background. For a moment, it’s just you and Idia, navigating the intricate steps of the dance together. He’s still anxious, but he’s keeping up, and more importantly, you can tell he’s starting to trust you. He’s letting you take the lead, and for someone like Idia, that’s huge.

From Idia’s perspective, this entire ball is a waking nightmare. He’s completely out of his element, surrounded by people he’d normally go to great lengths to avoid. But then there’s you. You’re handling everything with this... ease, this grace that he can’t even begin to comprehend. You’re not just dancing with him, you’re actively navigating the minefield of court politics like it’s no big deal.

And you don’t need to do this. This isn’t your problem—it’s Ortho’s succession, not yours. But you’re here, by his side, going all out to make sure Ortho’s future is secure. Idia’s heart twists in his chest. He doesn’t get it. You’re way too cool for this. Too cool for him. You wink at him mid-spin, and he feels like his brain’s short-circuiting.

"Oh no. I like them. Like, really like them. And soon, they’ll be gone. This whole engagement is just for show. After Ortho’s investiture, we’ll go back to our separate lives, right?"

He swallows hard, trying not to freak out, but it’s too late. He’s in way too deep.

After the dance, you lead him off the floor and start mingling with the other nobles, making alliances and doing your whole “political mastermind” thing. Idia stands awkwardly to the side, trying to blend into the wallpaper, but his eyes keep following you. You don’t have to do all this for Ortho, but you are. And that’s... that’s really cool. He admires you, he can’t help it.

And then—oh no. The lower nobles. They spot him and beeline toward him like sharks smelling blood. Before he can make a break for it, they swarm around him, throwing party invitations at him like confetti.

“Prince Idia, you simply must attend our garden soirée next week,” one of them gushes, eyes sparkling.

“And our evening gala!” another pipes up. “You’ll be the guest of honor, of course!”

Idia’s face goes pale, and he shoots you a look that screams, HELP ME.

You swoop in like a knight in shining armor. “Ah, yes, well, unfortunately, Idia can’t attend. He’s... uh... allergic to sunlight.”

The nobles stare at you, blinking in confusion. Idia stares at you too, his expression a mix of disbelief and amusement.

“Allergic to... sunlight?” one noble repeats, frowning.

You facepalm. Smooth. “I mean... it’s a joke! Ha! Obviously! What I meant to say is... uh...” You scramble for an excuse. “I need a nap.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“I—uh—can’t sleep without him,” you blurt out. “It’s, uh, a couple thing.”

The nobles blink at you again, thoroughly bewildered.

You grab Idia’s arm, muttering, “We’re leaving,” and make a quick exit, practically dragging him behind you.

As soon as you’re out of earshot, you let out a groan. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I said that. ‘Allergic to sunlight’? Really?”

Idia is doubled over laughing, completely losing it. “You what?!” he howls. “You need a nap? And you can’t sleep without me?!”

“Shut up!” you say, cheeks burning. “I was trying to save you!”

“You saved me? More like doomed me!” He wheezes between laughs, clutching his stomach. “Oh man, you are terrible at this. You make me look good, and that’s saying something.”

You glare at him, but his laughter is so infectious that you can’t stay mad. And honestly? He looks free. Unbridled, even. It’s the first time you’ve seen him laugh so openly, so without reservation, that it almost makes you forget how embarrassing the situation was.

Almost.

It's finally time for Ortho's investiture, and to say you feel unprepared would be an understatement. Not for any political reason—you've long since mastered the art of navigating court intrigue. No, the issue is far more personal, far more heart-wrenching. After today, once Ortho is declared Crown Prince, Idia will no longer have any excuse to stay in the spotlight. He'll retreat, back into the shadows, probably even fake his own kidnapping to get out of any future public events. And you?

You'll finally get that peaceful beach house you’ve been dreaming about.

But the thought doesn’t feel like a reward. It feels bitter. You don’t want that beach house—not if it means losing Idia. The man who’s wormed his way into your heart with his sarcasm, awkwardness, and hidden kindness.

But you know he’s not someone you can tie down. Idia doesn’t do well with permanence. And as much as your heart begged to hold on to him, you also know he’d likely slip through your fingers if you tried.

So you do what any self-respecting person would in this situation: put on a brave face, slip into your formal attire, and prepare to smile your way through heartbreak.

When you walk out to greet Idia, he’s already dressed in his formal robes, looking every bit the reluctant royal. His eyes widen slightly when he sees you, but he says nothing, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.

You muster up the strength to smile and reach for his hand. “Ready?”

He nods, but neither of you can meet the other’s eyes.

From Idia’s perspective, today should feel like a victory. He’s been planning for Ortho’s investiture for months, and now that the day is finally here, he should be feeling nothing but relief. But no—he’s filled with an overwhelming sense of dread. It’s not about Ortho. His little brother is brilliant, and Idia knows the kingdom is in good hands.

No, what he’s not ready for is letting you go.

If someone had told him a year ago that he would care about someone—want someone—so desperately, he would’ve locked them up in a mental facility. But here he is, standing on the precipice of his worst nightmare.

You, who shine in every public setting, who effortlessly charm everyone around you, are going to move on. He knows he can’t tie you down with his reclusive lifestyle, his constant desire to escape from the world. How could he? You’re everything he’s not—bright, resplendent, beloved. He can’t ask you to give up your life for him.

But when you come out and take his hand, his heart skips a beat. Neither of you are able to look each other in the eye, but the gesture says more than any words could.

The investiture itself goes off without a hitch. Ortho’s speech is flawless, full of the hope and wisdom of a ruler who will no doubt lead the kingdom into a golden age. You’re so proud of him—of the boy who’s become like a little brother to you.

But even as you smile and clap with the rest of the court, you feel a heaviness in your chest that has nothing to do with the political spectacle unfolding before you.

A few tears slip down your cheeks, and you don’t even know if they’re from the overwhelming pride you feel for Ortho or the quiet heartbreak you’ve been trying to suppress all day.

Before you can wipe them away, Idia silently hands you his handkerchief. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at you, and that just makes the ache in your heart a little worse.

You take it with a quiet, “Thanks,” dabbing at your eyes, and you both stand there in tense silence, watching as the formalities continue around you.

Once the investiture concludes and the guests filter out, you and Idia retreat to a balcony to catch your breath. The sky is darkening, and the cool evening breeze does little to soothe the heaviness you feel in the pit of your stomach.

Idia breaks the silence first. "I've, uh... already arranged the beach house. It’s in your name now."

You blink, looking over at him. His voice cracks slightly, and when you finally turn to face him fully, you realize that he looks like the very picture of heartbreak. He’s not meeting your eyes, staring out into the distance as if it’ll keep him from falling apart.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Idia... do you want me to leave?”

He freezes, still not looking at you. "I... I want you to be happy. I mean, that's the whole point, right? The beach house, everything—you’ve been wanting that for ages."

“I didn’t ask if you wanted me to be happy,” you say quietly. “I asked if you want me to stay or go.”

The silence between you stretches, heavy and suffocating. You hold your breath, waiting for him to answer. When he finally speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“I... I don’t know what I’m gonna do if you’re not here anymore.”

That’s all the confirmation you need. Before he can say anything else, you step forward, cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss. For a split second, he stiffens, shocked, but then he melts into it, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

It’s everything you needed and more—sweet, desperate, and filled with all the words neither of you have been able to say. When you finally pull away, you rest your forehead against his, both of you breathing heavily.

“Come with me,” you whisper. “To the beach house. We can... we can figure everything out from there.”

Idia lets out a watery laugh, one that’s half-disbelief, half-relief. “You really want a shut-in like me hanging around your dream house? You’re gonna get sick of me in a week.”

You smile, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “I don’t think I could ever get sick of you. So... what do you say?”

He hesitates for a moment, then gives a small nod, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Yeah... okay. I’ll come with you.”

And just like that, the weight that’s been pressing down on your chest all day lifts. It’s not the end—it’s a new beginning. One where you and Idia don’t have to part ways, where you can move forward together.

As you both stand there on the balcony, holding each other close, the world feels a little less daunting, and the future a little brighter.

The grand hall is slowly emptying out, nobles drifting away after offering their congratulations to Ortho. You and Idia maneuver through the lingering crowd, dodging overly-friendly dukes and avoiding eye contact with barons hoping to extend the festivities.

Idia clings to your arm like a cat being dragged to the vet, mumbling, “Please tell me we’re not about to be emotionally ambushed again.”

You smirk. “Relax. It’s just Ortho.”

“Yeah, that’s what you always say before things get sentimental and I have to deal with ‘feelings.’”

You spot Ortho standing near the dais, still wearing the ceremonial robes from his investiture. Despite the long night, he looks bright-eyed, waving cheerfully at some departing courtiers. When he catches sight of you two, his face breaks into the biggest grin, and he hurries over like an eager puppy.

“There you are!” Ortho beams, practically glowing with excitement. “I was worried you left without saying goodbye.”

“Us? Leave without saying goodbye?” you tease. “What kind of villains do you think we are?”

“Exactly the kind who would sneak away in the middle of a banquet,” Idia mutters under his breath. “And you know what? That plan still sounds great.”

Ortho rolls his eyes fondly. “You’re impossible, brother.”

“Only when I’m awake.”

“Anyway,” you cut in, shooting Idia a playful glare before turning back to Ortho, “we wanted to talk to you before we go.”

Ortho’s smile falters, just a bit. “You’re leaving already?”

You nod, squeezing Idia’s arm. “Yeah. We’re heading to the beach house.”

Ortho tilts his head, curious but not upset. “You’re moving there?”

“For a while, yeah,” you explain gently. “Idia and I need a break from all the court politics. But don’t worry. We’ll visit you. Often.”

Idia shifts beside you, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh... It’s not like I’m leaving forever or anything. Just... you know, temporarily escaping society.”

Ortho laughs, but there’s a softness in his gaze now. “I get it. I don’t blame you for wanting to leave all this behind for a bit.”

You take a step closer, voice lowering. “And hey... I know you’ve got a lot on your plate now. But we’re still family. If you need anything—anything—we’ll be here for you.”

Ortho’s grin returns, full force. “I know. I’m really glad you two have each other. Honestly, I was worried for a long time that Idia might never find someone willing to put up with him.”

“Gee, thanks,” Idia deadpans. “Glad my personal development arc has been so inspiring for you.”

“But seriously,” Ortho says, his expression softening again. “Thank you. You’ve done more for us than you had to. I know you could have just... gone back to your world or left things as they were. But you stayed. And you helped him.”

Oh no. Not this again. That suspicious prickle starts in your eyes, and you blink rapidly to fend off the tears. Not now. Not in public.

“You’re not... making me cry,” you insist, even as your voice wobbles. “This is just... allergy season.”

“Oh no, it’s happening,” Idia groans dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t cry. If you cry, Ortho’s gonna cry, and if Ortho cries, the nobles will definitely blame me.”

“Shut up, you big baby,” you sniffle, swatting his arm before pulling Ortho into a hug. “Come here, you. Group hug, now.”

Ortho barely has time to react before you’ve wrapped him up in your arms. He laughs, squeezing you back. You reach out blindly and grab Idia’s sleeve, yanking him into the fray.

“Wait—wait, what—!” Idia stumbles forward, sandwiched awkwardly between you and Ortho. “This is... I don’t...”

“Shhh,” you whisper, patting his back. “Feel the love.”

“This is emotional ambush!” Idia protests, voice muffled against your shoulder. “I want it on record that I was forced into this.”

“Noted,” Ortho says with a laugh, hugging both of you tighter. “But you’re not getting out of it.”

For a moment, the three of you just stand there, huddled together in a ridiculous knot of limbs, nobles glancing your way but tactfully avoiding comment.

Idia mutters into your ear, “This... this is basically treason against introverts.”

You grin. “Consider it penance for being emotionally stunted.”

“You’re both the worst,” he grumbles, but his arms stay wrapped around you.

Eventually, you pull back, wiping your eyes with the heel of your hand. “We’ll be back soon, Ortho. I promise.”

“I know.” Ortho smiles warmly, giving you one last squeeze. “And when you do, I’ll make sure you never have to attend another dull court event again.”

Idia perks up at that. “Oh. Now that’s what I call incentive.”

With one last shared laugh, the three of you break apart. Ortho steps back, standing tall and proud in his new role, though his smile still holds all the warmth of a little brother seeing his family off.

“Take care of him,” Ortho says quietly, glancing meaningfully at you.

“I plan to,” you reply, meeting his gaze with a small, reassuring smile.

“And you,” Ortho adds, looking at Idia. “Don’t screw this up.”

Idia gapes, indignant. “I—why does everyone assume I’m the one who’s going to screw it up?!”

You and Ortho exchange amused glances before both of you answer in perfect unison:

“Because you will.”

Idia groans. “Yeah, okay. Fair.”

With that, you bid Ortho one final goodbye, tugging Idia along before anyone else can rope you into small talk. As you leave the grand hall and step out into the cool night air, the weight on your shoulders feels a little lighter.

Idia sighs in relief. “Well, that’s over. Time to hibernate for the next decade.”

You chuckle, lacing your fingers through his. “Hibernation in the beach house?”

“Hell yeah.”

And with that, the two of you set off into the night, leaving the court behind—for now.

Oh, what happened to the heroine and the male lead, you ask? Let’s rewind a few months before Ortho’s investiture—back when they were still blissfully unaware of the elaborate downfall that awaited them.

You knew that the heroine and the male lead would try to make a spectacle of themselves during Ortho’s rise to power. The way they pranced around, flaunting their superficial charm and good looks like they owned the place—it was insufferable. And, of course, they were always scheming in the background, hoping to secure power and glory for themselves. You couldn’t stand it.

So, you set up the perfect trap.

It began at a lavish gala, one of those unnecessarily extravagant events where nobles gathered to network, gossip, and throw subtle insults at each other. You arrived fashionably late, as any proper duchess would, with Idia reluctantly in tow, mumbling under his breath about how every social event felt like “one of those long quests with zero rewards.”

“The rewards are emotional, Idia,” you whisper, linking arms with him.

“Yeah, emotional damage,” he mutters.

You suppress a smile, but your mind is elsewhere. Tonight is the night. You had planted the seeds weeks ago, a few well-placed rumors, some whispered insinuations, and a letter you’d accidentally left behind in a well-trafficked corridor. It was all coming together like a beautifully chaotic symphony, and now, the climax.

You spot the heroine first, her radiant smile masking the venom beneath. She’s making a grand entrance, arm-in-arm with the male lead, who, as always, looks like he’s stepped straight out of a romance novel. His hair is perfect, his jawline sharp enough to cut through glass. But you know better. They’re both so predictable.

“They’ve arrived,” you murmur to Idia.

He gives you a blank stare. “Yeah, cool, I’m just here to not die of social exhaustion. Whatever you’re planning... don’t tell me. I don’t wanna be involved.”

“Suit yourself,” you reply with a grin.

You watch them mingle, waiting for the right moment. And there it is—the heroine, attempting to cozy up to the king, laughing a little too loudly at one of his mediocre jokes. You slip through the crowd, making your way to where a certain nosy noblewoman is holding court. A noblewoman known for her love of gossip and her even greater love of ruining people’s lives with it.

Perfect.

You lean in, feigning concern. “Oh, My Lady... I probably shouldn’t say this, but I heard the strangest thing about the heroine. You won’t believe it.”

Her eyes gleam with curiosity. “Do tell, my dear.”

“Well,” you drop your voice to a whisper, “there’s talk that the heroine and the male lead are involved in some... unsavory business dealings. Something about embezzling funds from the royal coffers for their own gain? I don’t know how true it is, of course... but it would explain some things, wouldn’t it?”

You leave the rest unsaid, letting her imagination do the rest. The best part? It’s all technically true. You had orchestrated it so well, the heroine and the male lead had no idea that their “private” meetings and “innocent” financial maneuvers were anything but secret.

She gasps, her fan snapping shut. “I knew there was something off about them! Oh, the gall! I must inform the king immediately!”

And just like that, the gossip spreads like wildfire. Within minutes, the entire room is buzzing with scandalous whispers. The heroine and the male lead notice the shift, the way people start looking at them, and for the first time, they’re on the back foot. They try to smile, but their unease is palpable.

You sit back, watching the chaos unfold, sipping your wine as nobles begin to distance themselves from the pair, shooting them suspicious glances.

Idia sidles up next to you, looking around at the suddenly tense atmosphere. “What... what did you do?”

“Who, me?” You bat your eyelashes innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He gives you a side-eye. “You’re terrifying.”

“You knew that when you asked me to be your fake fiancée.”

The next day, official inquiries are launched into the heroine and the male lead’s finances, and though they try to clear their names, it’s no use. The damage is done. Their reputations are ruined beyond repair, and they’re forced to withdraw from court life entirely. A fitting end for their ambitions.

Which brings you to the present...

It’s a peaceful morning in your beach house, and you’re sitting on the veranda, enjoying your coffee while the sun rises over the horizon. The sound of waves crashing against the shore is your only company, and for once, there’s no looming political intrigue or royal drama to worry about.

That is, until Idia stumbles out of the bedroom, his hair a messy blue cloud, his eyes half-closed with sleep. He groans as he sees you, one hand on the wall to steady himself. “Why are you up so early? It’s like... the middle of the night.”

“It’s 10 AM,” you reply with a laugh.

“Exactly,” he grumbles, shuffling over to you. Without another word, he flops down beside you, his head immediately finding its way to your neck. He nuzzles into you, muttering something unintelligible, and you chuckle softly, patting him on the cheek.

“You’re such a big baby in the morning,” you tease, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

Despite being married for the past two years, Idia’s face turns tomato-red every time you do something affectionate. He blushes furiously now, burying his face in the crook of your neck to hide it.

“Y-You’re unfair,” he mumbles, voice muffled. “Saying stuff like that... it’s embarrassing.”

You grin. “But you’re so cute.”

“I’m not cute. I’m a grown man. And you’re a villain for making me get up before noon.”

You laugh, running your fingers through his messy hair. “Maybe, but I’m your villain. So deal with it.”

Idia groans dramatically but makes no effort to move away, too comfortable where he is. You continue sipping your coffee, enjoying the moment of peace, when he finally speaks again, a little softer this time.

“Y’know... you really did a number on the heroine and the male lead. They’re still laying low, huh?”

“Maybe the rumor I spread was truly a masterpiece,” you say with a smirk, remembering how perfectly everything had gone according to plan.

Idia snorts. “A masterpiece of destruction, maybe.”

You chuckle, pressing another kiss to his forehead. He sighs contentedly, the two of you basking in the quiet comfort of your shared life. It’s moments like this that remind you just how far you’ve come together, from court intrigue and scandal to peaceful mornings at your beach house.

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

For the next part,

[moronkombat]

HELLO.

I was just wondering if you could do some hcs of what the mk1 men's ideal types would be.

Reiko is interested in a partner who is strong and capable. Someone who can handle themselves and continue to grow in personal and physical strength

He wants someone who knows their way around the battlefield and loyal to their personal goals

Kenshi is attracted to his partner's wit and intelligence. He wants someone who he can have long and deep conversations with

Prefers someone who can be playful but not overly so. He needs a calming influence but not one so compliant. He is a man who carries a lot of weight so someone to take that weigh off with small jokes can make a big difference for him

Syzoth is drawn towards someone who is patient, calm and understanding. Someone who can not just hear him but truly listen to him

He a man full of emotion so someone who tends to have a calmer demeanor helps soothe him when he becomes anxious. Of course, he also loves a partner who enjoys frequent physical contact

Prefers someone wild and brazen. Someone who cannot be completely contained even though he so desperately wants to

Enjoys a partner that seeks thrills and chills. Don't worry though, he will mold his partner into the perfect chaos if they seem restrained

Rain needs someone who acknowledges his ambitions and desires. A partner that encourages him and supports his efforts goes a long way for him

Though he does find himself seeking competition so, naturally, he seeks out a partner who can handle and enjoy these rivalries

Shang Tsung is drawn to people who interest him. Someone that catches his eye because of their abilities, wit and/or appearance

Prefers a partner who can be clever but also softer than the average person. He will enjoy matching their wit while also taking comfort in their kindness

Quan Chi appreciates loyalty and acknowledgment. He wants a partner to stay by his side while also seeing all the wonders he can do

Prefers someone who can handle themselves and not completely rely on him. Not to say he isn't a comforting partner, he is, but he values mental fortitude as well

Tomas prefers someone he can have fun with. He wants to go out with his partner, take them places and have adventures with him

His partner needn't be shy nor outgoing, just someone who is open to his ideas and plans. Over everything, he needs someone who is unconditionally supportive but not blindly so

Raiden enjoys a partner who values kindness and the treatment of others. He himself a very caring individual so he is drawn to those who show similar characteristics

Also enjoys someone with a sense of humor. Raiden wants to laugh with his partner, truly and loudly laugh to the silly things they talk about

Kung Lao really likes when his partner can match his sass and swagger. He likes the little playful rivalry that he and his partner create

While he has fun with his partner's attitude, he does need a partner that knows when to humble him

Bi-Han has an intense temper so a partner who is calm, collected and sweet really helps level him out. Someone who is kind yet witty to bring him down from those raging highs

He needs a partner who completes him and compliments him. Too be too brash around him will frustrate him and isolate him. A partner to love him completely and truly, to hold him and tell him it will be alright, means the world to him

Johnny craves someone who loves to live life and live it fast. He is exceptionally extraverted and wants to go out and see the world with his partner

Someone who believes in his ambitions is a big deal for him. Johnny may appear exceptionally confident but he is deeply insecure. He needs a partner that can recognize that and provide him comfort

General Shao prefers a partner who is smaller than he is. He wants to impress his partner and show them his prowess

It is not that he wants someone weak, Shao enjoys a partner that welcomes him when he returns from battle with excitement and pride. He wants to scoop his partner up and parade them on his shoulder as he marches through the city

Geras is a simple man but incredibly busy and needs a partner who understands this. There will be much time spent apart from each other so he requires a partner with great patience

He prefers someone who is level-headed and logical, someone who can analyze a situation with him and offer a new perspective

Liu Kang fancies someone who can be witty and playful just as he is. A partner who can make him smile and laugh will capture his heart quickly

He does not have preferences in terms of their physical strength but their mental fortitude. Not to say he will not comfort his partner, he will, but Liu Kang needs that comfort too.

Kaui Liang has no preference for appearances. His desire in a partner is all related to who they are. He prefers a partner who shows kindness and restraint in moments of frustrations

Additionally, he wants a partner who is family oriented. Family is huge for him and so he seeks out a partner who also values the concept of family and loyalty to them

Baraka needs a partner who is understanding of his worries and someone willing to listen to him. He's lost everything and someone to validate that will help soothe him

He is touch starved, desperately so. Baraka would love a partner who can touch him softly, unafraid of his deformed skin and bones

[pha55ed]

Fine Line | F2 (kimi bday celly!)

type :: fluff tw/cw :: none contains :: kimi, pepe, ollie request :: hiii could you pls do ─ ⟡ fine line by harry styles : getting to know the true him (h/c) with ollie and pepe? ❤️ (yesss ofc! im so happy for all the pepe request lol he mighttt be my new second fav f2 driver, first is always gonna be paul) link to the kimi bday celly!

Kimi Antonelli | 04

PDA is a big no-no for Kimi. The most he's willing to do is hold your hand in public, maybe a small kiss on the cheek. But for the most part, he doesn't want others to watch him kiss you or put his hands on you. He always felt it was weird to let others see that part of his relationship. He especially hated when he saw couples did too much PDA, so he didn't want to make others uncomfortable either.

But once you two are alone, it's as if he's glued onto you. You will never get a moment alone once you're at his apartment. Constantly he's around you and touching you in some way. Like a magnet of some kind.

Like when you brush your teeth, he uses his free hand to hold your waist while he uses the other hand to brush his own teeth. While you're scrolling mindless on TikTok in bed, he'll shove his face into your shoulder so he can see the TikTok's too. If you're in a Zoom meeting and unable to allow Kimi to touch you, don't worry - he's laying on the floor and holding onto your foot...

He's unable to get his hands off you in some way. It's funny since it's so obvious his love language is touch, and yet he refuses to do it for 80% of the day but once you're home, he does a complete 180. But you love it, you love having him come up to you randomly and press a kiss on your cheek or having him rest his head on your lap whilst you watch TV.

Ollie Bearman | 87

The usual way people see Ollie is that he's a sweet innocent guy, a gentlemen who wouldn't dare to hurt a fly. But as you two began to get comfortable as your relationship, you saw a side of him that people would rarely ever see.

That side being: his mean older sibling side. The side of him that destroys his little brother in Mario Kart and laughs in his face. The side of him that messes up his little sister hair and then takes photos of her from atrocious angles. Even worse: the side that accidentally dares his little brother to do something stupid, only for him to get hurt and begin to cry - making Ollie have to shush him with the promises of a free meal.

It was funny seeing it. To everyone else, he's the upmost respectful since he's the youngest in most areas, especially since he's joining Formula 1 soon. It's almost as if he's been holding back all of his sass and rudeness till he gets home to annoy the shit out of his family.

Although it's funny to see him annoy them, what's not funny is how he starts to do the same thing to you... He also annoys the shit out of you, driving you insane.

He ruffles your hair, despite just brushing it to go to bed. He takes your phone and waves it above your head, teasing you for your short height. He taps the sides of your big headphones, causing you to wince at the loud sound of the taps. Overall: you want to kill him.

But at the same time, you find it endearing to see how annoying he can be. It's nice to see him be a little shit-head with you, and then the sweetest boy possible in the public.

Pepe Marti | 21

Although Pepe is a boy, he never really showed it. Instead, he acted more as a man, taking responsibility for lots of things, taking charge to educate himself on different topics, and always training to make himself stronger. Not only that, he's one of the very few boys on the F2 Grid who actually finished high school. You loved that about him, he's always been a bit more level headed than his peers in certain situations.

But with you, for some reason it's as if his brain shuts down. As if the entire brain goes from wrinkly and healthy to smooth and rotten. He asks you the stupidest questions that you didn't even know were possible.

For example, when you both were watching a new show together. The character was Asian and yet she had a thick Scottish accent, which shocked and confused Pepe, he couldn't wrap his head around it. So he asked, "I thought she was Asian..." He failed to remember you can be a different ethnicity and nationality....

Or when you were both cooking some pancakes together. You poured the batter into the pan, some of it accidentally getting on the spatula. Pepe decided to take action himself, since he was pretty useless in the kitchen, he grabbed the spatula and put it in the sink and touched the metal head of the spatula... Burning his fingers slightly from the heat...

Despite his goofy mistakes, mostly ending in him seeming like an idiot, you loved it. It was a sign of his comfortableness with you. He fully trusted you to not judge him and help him with his stupid questions, which you always did.

[st0rmyskies]

What Your Favorite Link Says About You

A.k.a. The Links as tarot cards/your rising sign/your blood type.

Time

You're likely an older Zelda fan. Ibuprofen has become a food group for you. Anyone who thinks OoT isn't the greatest Zelda game has you clutching your pearls and tutting. Kids these days don't know how good they have it.

You are a person to whom young people come for advice, either in your career or in life in general. You're happy to give it, especially because you love to help, but on the inside you're silently screaming, What?? Why me???

You may have trouble sleeping through the night. Even if it's not every night, there are some where you just can't turn your brain off and worries or worst-case scenarios just keep playing and replaying ad nauseaum.

You enjoy time in solitude to appreciate the beauty of nature. I bet you know how to braid a mean daisy crown.

“The flow of time is always cruel...” - Some event in your life took your innocence from you, perhaps much too early. You grew up quickly because of it.

Legend

Either you had a crush on the emo kid in high school or you were the emo kid in high school.

You might be jaded by the world, but you still have a solid work ethic and a soft heart despite it all. Even if you hide it all beneath a healthy layer of sass.

You possess a multitude of skills, not all of which are related. Anytime a friend needs a piece of clothing mended or a picture frame hung on the wall or a leak in a faucet addressed, you have the tools and the willingness to help.

Either you have a history of moving frequently when you were young, or you have a restless spirit. You may never quite feel 'at home' in any given place.

"But, verily, it be the nature of dreams to end." - You’ve suffered a meaningful loss in your life and you have a hard time opening up again because of it. 

Hyrule

You root for the underdog, or perhaps you are the underdog. Any of those "against all odds" stories just hit you square in the chest.

Somewhat quiet by nature, you do vital work behind the scenes but you aren't the type to seek out a leadership position. Leave the limelight to somebody else, please.

You might sell yourself short when it comes to your skills and abilities, but you should believe in yourself, man! You can do it!!

You have a capricious streak in you that rears its head now and again. That smile can look sharp and devilish in the right light.

"It's dangerous to go alone!" - You either already have or are destined to find 'that one person' with whom you can open up and truly be yourself. 

Twilight

I'm willing to put money on the fact that Twilight Princess was your first Zelda game.

You have a strong sense of justice and get really bent out of shape when you encounter unfairness or flaw in the system, whatever that may be. You might be considered an outsider in some way because of this.

You're the friend who scoops spiders up in a cup and sets them outside. Live and let live.

You were the 'wolf kid' in middle school. Come on, those amazing tie dye shirts? Wolf Woman? Julie of the Wolves?? Even if you kept it inside, it was there in some way.

"Your current power would disgrace the proud green of the hero's tunic you wear." - You put a lot of stock in the opinions of others and hold yourself to a higher standard because of it. Sometimes that standard isn't achievable, though, so try to be kind to yourself. 

Sky

You, my friend, have a soft heart. You're generally a happy-go-lucky sort of person. You're likely to make excuses for those who've been mean to you in the past and come out as friends on the other side.

You're crafty, or at the very least good with your hands. You're the type to give someone a handmade gift rather than go buy something for them for their birthday, a holiday, etc.

You have a strong affinity for your friends. If anything bad were to happen to them, you'd turn violent at the drop of a hat.

You may have some level of chronic illness that affects you. Although you might do things in a different way or at your own pace, though, you still come out on top.

"You fight like no man or demon I have ever known." - You have the capability for great things. World-changing sorts of things. Don't give up!

Wild

You're some flavor of neurodivergent, if I had to guess I'd say ADHD. You have 42 tabs open in your brain at any given time and you have no idea which one the music is coming from.

You're an incredibly creative person, although you might have trouble finishing tasks/works-in-progress. Doesn't mean you didn't learn something along the way!

Rigid guidelines or deadlines stress you out. You'd rather be given a goal and decide for yourself when and how to get there. When you do have a deadline, you're a bit of a procrastinator.

Sometimes you don’t get the 'right' way to do things, but you carve your own path--although sometimes it's unorthodox--and get there in your own time.

"Courage need not be remembered, for it is never forgotten." - In spite of how your life changes you, for better or for worse, you have a driving inspiration or ethic or vocation that moves you forward at all costs.

Warriors

Those who don't know you well tend to boil you down to one or two trite traits. In reality, you contain multitudes. Most people couldn't handle all of you, not that they deserve to know even part of you.

You tend to lay it on thick--be that your charm, attitude, or whatever else your social shield might be--because you're hiding some deeper secret or insecurity at your core.

You're the mom friend or the planner in your group, or perhaps you're the oldest child. You’ll pass on an authority role if and when you can, but likely you’re still involved in some supervisory capacity in a given situation. 

You kill spiders with fire. Show NO mercy.

"You dare raise the blade of evil's bane to me? So be it. Hyrule's blood will be on your hands." - You have strong convictions and you aren't afraid to take risks, major risks, to do what you know to be right.

Four

Babe, if you ain't short, you've got short person energy. You scare me a little bit tbh.

You were praised for not being a problem child growing up, or for being very responsible at a young age.

You have a vivid imagination! You may have had an imaginary friend as a child or lived in your own little world altogether. I bet your notebook pages were strewn with little doodles in school.

You're a lover of information. If you could choose between an afternoon at the library or a movie matinee, it would be the former.

"Hanging around with you fools is dangerous for my health." - You're the snark friend, aren't you.  

Wind

You are extroverted to a fault. You need the company of others to recharge that social battery. The quintessential golden retriever friend.

You had active involvement in the music and theatre department. I'd be surprised if you weren't in at least one show in high school.

Having adventures is where it's at! You're a big fan of travel, either cross-country road trips or international flights. You could happily live out of a suitcase.

You tend to make friends easily wherever you go. If everyone in this classroom/workplace/bar doesn't know your name already, they will pretty quick.

"I have been waiting for you, boy... Do not betray my expectations.” - Against all odds, you've proven yourself to be worthy of great things. Screw what fate has in store! You're the type to take your own destiny by the 'nads.

[junibgoode]

Bowie and Noah are both gay stereotypes, just of different times

Ok hear me out. I very much agree that Noah was written as "the gay kid" archetype bc that was the gimmick for gen 1. this is ESPECIALLY apperant in s1. like 90% of his line delivery had some amount of sass to it, as apposed to a straight up a deadpan(obviously that's present but rewatch it and tell me there's not an amount of flare to the delivery). some rapid fire queercoding. 1. the way he runs and his high pitched scream 2. his aversion to physical activity to a degree that distinguishes him from the rest of the cast 3. the ear kiss/cuddle. obviously a gay joke. that only scrapes the surface too(not even getting into s2/3 where the queercoding was him just having chemistry with various male characters). so obvious stereotype that was covered up by fresh TV with emma(JUSTICE FOR EMMA TOO I LOVE HER). personally I think he's gay but I can see him as bi too. just compare him to other 2000s gay characters. very clear similarity.

bowie IS canonically gay. and while I don't think he's the "this is my only personality trait" level of gay stereotype, I think it's clear there's aspects of his writing that are that. I'd complain more but Raj kind of displays existing as a gay character without stereotypes and most TD info we talk about is fanon anyway bc ultimately this is us giving way to much depth to a fake reality TV show(/pos). anyway he is but in a very different way. the way he dresses is the modern stereotype just like how noahs(button ups and sweater vests) is for his time. his attitude has a lighter air. more fun. he's built less skinny and more lean with sports abilities.

they're both very clearly gay characters but it's so interesting how they're very clear examples of the era. which ngl all of TD is. it's like watching the passage of time at certain points.

[crazylittlejester]

Listen I think it’s highly unlikely, but I hope that if the chain is split up into three groups of three, these are the groups:

1. Wars, Twi, and Time “The Drama Queens”: There will be screaming, there will be yelling, there will be crying. ‘The adults’ my ass, the maturity was left behind in the last era and the pettiness and sass levels are through the roof. Emotions are high, the girls are fighting. The monsters in the dungeon are just standing there watching the show because this is the most entertaining thing they’ve seen their whole lives, and the way the three are eventually able to get their shit together and move forward together was kinda wholesome to watch. But then they kick ass after their impromptu group therapy session and the monsters are kinda screwed

2. Wild, Legend, and Hyrule “Oh no…”: Those explosions in the distance? Yeah these guys caused it. Don’t worry about it too much though, they’re probably fine, and they’re definitely not suspiciously covered in ash when the groups all meet up again. They had fun and didn’t die, and that’s what’s important, plus they got a few goodies, good for them

3. Sky, Four, and Wind “The Ones Getting Shit Done”: Not only do they get significantly richer and find cool little treasures, they advance the plot by actually accomplishing shit. They still get up to mischief and silliness, but they still get things done, and they listen to each other and work very well as a team. They’re very concerned when the ‘adults’ come in with red eyes from crying and the other three show up with Hyrule’s hair smoking a little. Clearly not everyone’s dungeon experience was as productive as theirs

[fandomnsfw]

Because He Listens - Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x Reader

Prompt: I tried my best with this one. It isn't as long as some of my others but I wrote what felt right at the time. love triangles are hard enough pentagons much harder.

Warnings: None just swearing really.

Beta'd by my lovely long time friend, beta and fellow writer @lets-imagine-fanfics

ENJOY!!

*********

You started your day like every other day.  

Wake up brush your teeth, take a shower, get dressed, makeup, hair, then out the door. However, this morning you were bombarded with Damon Salvatore laying on your bed causally when you came out with a towel on your body, and one wrapped around your hair. You gave him a silent glare as you picked out your clothes in silence.  

Once you’d gotten what you needed out of your closet, you spun around to face him when it became obvious that he wasn’t going away, no matter how much you ignored his presence. You gave him a fake sweet smile that did nothing but amuse the older man. 

“How can I help you, Damon?” You asked with a sickeningly sweet tone. 

“Have you thought about what I said last night?” He responded, his tone turning serious.  

“Why are you doing this Damon? You’ve never cared if I was at the centre of danger before!” You shouted as you walked through your front door after fighting against some witch who came for a doppelganger or more specifically doppelganger blood. 

“Because I care okay! Oh yes, I know that’s a shocking concept but I. CARE.” He punctuated with his usual level of sarcasm and sass.  

“About Elena yes. Me? Never.” You snarked back with an eye roll.  

“Well, I care about you, okay?” He sighed seriously, his usually sarcastic demeanour dropping.   

“Why?” You snapped making him close his eyes as if exasperated by this entire situation. 

“Because-” He seemed to stop, wondering whether his reason was worth stating but you crossed your arms in a way that said you wouldn’t drop this, so he stared down at you as he walked closer.  

“Because...I love you.” He muttered quietly.  

“Tell me your joking?” You whispered with wide eyes.  

“Oh yeah, this seems like the type of prank I’m fond of, doesn’t it?” He growled in annoyance.  

“What is it with you brothers!?” You screamed as you lightly pushed Damon away.  

“So, I guess Stefan got here first.” He grumbled like a pouting child.  

“What is there to think about, Damon?” You sighed as you stepped away from him, your eyes dropping to the floor as you contemplated how to handle this.  

You’d never really been told ‘I love you’ by anyone who seriously meant it and now you had Stefan, who had told you before the fight; and Damon, who had told you after the fight. Oh, and let's not forget the good Mikaelson brothers who seemed to have taken an interest too. How the hell were you supposed to deal with this?  

“Well, do you like either of us?” Damon tried with an eye roll to show his frustration.  

“Between the Salvatore brothers, the Mikaelson brothers and a witch trying to kill me I haven’t exactly thought about it!” You shouted as you disappeared into the bathroom to change.  

You slid on your undies, bra and jeans before realising you hadn’t grabbed your top as you were too busy thinking about how your life was turning out. You knew Klaus had a thing for Caroline as well, so you never really took him seriously until last night while fighting this witch, he jumped in front of a giant flaming ball to save you all the while Elijah hid you behind him.  

“I’m not doing this. I’m not Elena and I don’t enjoy being stuck in a love triangle...or a pentagon in this case.” You snapped through the door before wrapping the towel around your bra-covered torso and making your way out of the bathroom to grab your top.  

You grabbed the article of clothing ignoring Damon’s eyes on you before rushing back to the bathroom. Once you’d tucked your plain black V-neck t-shirt into your high waisted jeans you exited the bathroom to Damon who was sitting on the end of your bed staring at the floor.  

“If you can’t decide then I guess we’ll do it for you.” Damon hissed before speeding out of your room and your apartment before you could even ask what he meant. 

You stood there with a frown on your face as you pulled out a pair of socks and started putting them on but once again you were interrupted by a knock on your door. You finished putting your socks on and walked out of your bedroom to answer the apartment door.  

You stared at the British vampire with narrowed eyes as she looked at you in confusion, her eyebrow raised as if silently asking what was wrong.  

“You’re not here to profess your undying love for me too, are you Bex?” You whispered suspiciously.  

“No, definitely not love.” Rebekah snorted as she pushed her way into the apartment without another word. 

“So Damon told you?” Rebekah chuckled as she flopped down onto your couch.  

“Yeah, and Stefan. All the while your biggest brother protected me from a witch and your other brother took a fireball for me. I feel like I’m in the cheesiest rom-com ever to exist. I have my own Harem.” You sighed dramatically as you flopped down next to her, sinking into the couch as if that would protect you from this entire situation.  

“Did you get Bonnie to cast a spell?” She whispered jokingly.  

“In what world is this something I would want?” You asked seriously making Rebekah shrug in response. 

“To break 4 people's hearts all in one go!” You huffed angrily making her smile sympathetically.  

“So...you don’t like any of them?” Rebekah asked with a raised brow.  

“I didn’t say that! But I’m not gonna choose one so the others can watch as I have a happy ending with the one I do like!” You snapped as you jumped up from the couch.  

“Well, it's better than letting yourself be unhappy just to save these idiots. They all chose to pursue you, that was their choice. Forget about them and do what makes you happy.” She responded with a kind smile on her face.  

“Everyone is gonna be unhappy with my choice.” You muttered sadly, your eyes casting down to the floor the fear of your friends hating you was eating away at you.  

“So? Why does it matter? Do something for you.” She stated calmly as she stood from the couch.  

“Is it really that simple though?” You asked uneasily, your heart pounding a little at the thought of finally pursuing the one person you’d been head over heels for, for months.  

“Yeah, it’s really that simple.” She stated as she pulled you into a hug.  

You spend the rest of the day with Rebekah, eating waffles and drinking coffee while you watch bad tv. You didn’t know what you’d do without her in your corner to back you up. At least if your friends abandoned you, you’d always have Rebekah.  

It was now 4pm and Rebekah was about to leave but before she was out of the door one of her brothers texted her. The text had Rebekah staring at her phone with wide eyes before glancing up at you with a pained look on her face. You frowned as she passed you the phone but once you looked at the words you couldn’t help the scream of frustration that came out of your mouth. 

Kol - Why are our dear brothers having dinner with the Salvatores’? 

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” You screamed making Rebekah wince at the volume. 

“I’ll drive you.” was all Rebekah said as she took out her car keys and started to head out of the apartment. 

You slid your boots on, running after her with an angry frown on your face. You couldn’t believe these idiots! What were you, some prize to be won! You glanced at Rebekah who looked rather angry herself, but you knew it was because she, as a woman who fought for woman’s rights back in the twenties, thought this whole thing was barbaric. 

She sped to her house which wasn’t far her fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly as she pulled up to the Mikaelson mansion. She got out of the car, followed by you as you both stormed into the house.  

You’re glad you had backup because this wasn’t something you wanted to deal with at all, let alone by yourself. 

She flung the door open to the dining room rather dramatically. If it was any other day, you’d probably have laughed at her antics but right now all you could see was red. You stared at the four men who were casually eating dinner and sipping glasses of blood. 

“What the hell do you wankers think you’re doing!?” Rebekah screeched, her arms crossing over her chest. 

“That is not your concern, Rebekah. If you could please leave that would be much appreciated.” Elijah stated politely, making you raise a brow at him. 

“It’s definitely my business don’t you think, oh noble one.” You snapped sarcastically as you mirrored Rebekah’s stance. 

“I would like to point out I didn’t put this dinner together.” Klaus chuckled as he glanced at Damon and his own brother, snitching on them quite happily.  

“Seriously, Elijah? What happened to be a feminist? I guess we can’t just forget you were from a Viking era! Fucking caveman.” You snarled making Elijah look down at the floor, shame taking over his expression.  

“What did you think was going to come from this?” You asked seriously.  

“We were trying to find a fair way we could all throw our hat in the ring,” Stefan muttered quietly his face covered in shame just like Elijah’s. 

“THERE IS NO FUCKING RING! KEEP YOUR FUCKING HATS ASSHOLES!” You snapped.  

“That’s exactly what Klaus said you’d say.” Damon scoffed as he glanced over at the hybrid.  

“That’s because he listens to me!” You snapped angrily making everyone's eyes snap to Klaus who looked rather proud of himself.  

“Him? Seriously!” Damon shouted as he jumped up from his seat at the table. 

“I am so not getting into this right now.” You sighed as your caught Klaus’s eyes staring at you curiously, but he kept quiet. 

“He’s a fucking monster!” Damon growled angrily. 

“She only said he listened Damon. Calm down.” Stefan sighed softly. 

“She’s obviously not going to pick one of you nutters. What do ya say, darling?” You heard a mischievous voice chuckled behind you and Rebekah.  

“You’re so not funny Kol.” You huffed as you pushed him away from you with a small laugh.  

“Well, it’s obviously going to be one of the noble ones.” Kol snorted as he pointed to Stefan and Elijah. 

“Ya know what! I’m sick of you ancient bastards assuming you have all the answers, okay, so here we have it!” You shouted as you stormed over to Klaus’s chair and stood behind it.  

“SEE!” Damon screamed as he got into a position like he was about to fight anyone who disagreed. 

“SHUT UP! Do you even know why I’m picking him? Hmm or do you only care if I picked you? Hmm.” You snarled as you started towards Damon.  

“That man over there was abused and betrayed his entire life! Yes, he did some shit but so have ALL of you, so have I. He gifted me things-”  

“I gifted you things!” Damon shouted, interrupting you.  

“Yes, because I seem like a diamond and Prada kind of girl, don’t I!?” You snapped making his eyes widen. 

“What did he gift you? Princess dresses and horses?” Damon snapped right back at you.  

“No! He bought me a stuffed wolf, drew a picture of me, he gave me a hand-carved figurine of my favourite tv character and last, but definitely not least, he took my dead mother’s coat to be mended by the best he could find so it would look brand new! But gifts aren't everything Damon! He also listened to me talk for hours about things I like, even though he has no idea what I’m talking about half the time. He drops off coffee and food for me when I’m so busy with college work, I don’t eat or drink. He even brought me a full 2 weeks' worth of grocery shopping with all the things I would usually get. He never once touched me or came into my house without me saying so. The way he looks at me as he draws me doing mundane things, makes me feel so seen and cared for. I am very much in love with him and if you don’t fucking like it, there's the door!” You screamed as Klaus glanced at you in absolute disbelief.  

“You see that look right there?” You exclaimed as you looked at him from where you were originally screaming at Damon.  

“He’s shocked I chose him. You lot think you have the right to put your hat in the ring but he’s just happy to be around me and before anyone says anything else. It’s been him long before you lot made your feelings for me known.” You chuckled softly as you gave Klaus the sweetest smile you could muster which he returned rather shyly.  

“I think it’s time we leave, brother,” Stefan stated as Elijah stared between you and his brother.  

“I did not realise you cared for her so much Niklaus. I am sorry to have gotten in the way of that dear brother.” Elijah stated seriously his tone apologetic.  

“Congrats on doing what you wanted, Y/N. Can’t wait to be sister in laws!” Rebekah chuckled as she ran out of the room dragging Kol with her.  

Once you were alone with Klaus you stared at him from the other side of the dining room table with a soft nervous smile. Your heart was pounding in your chest as he stood up and stride over to you. You barely had a chance to know what was happening but when he took you into his arms holding you like this wasn’t real and it would vanish if he blinked too hard.  

“I love you, Niklaus Mikaelson.” You whispered into his ear softly. 

He pulled away to look down at you as he cupped the back of your head. His ocean blue eyes staring down at you in amazement. He opened his mouth a few times but for the first time in 1000 years, his words seemed to be failing him.  

“I love you too, Y/N Y/L/N.” He whispered as his eyes flickered to your lips.  

“Kiss me, Niklaus.” You whispered, clutching his Henley like it was the only thing grounding you.  

He leant down, his plush lips pressing against yours so carefully it made your heart pound against your chest as if looking for an escape. His lips were soft and gentle as he kissed you, holding onto you as if you’d disappear at any second.  

Once he pulled away you wrapped your arms around him and buried your head in your chest which he returned by holding you as close as he could.  

“T-Thank you for loving me.” He whispered into your hair before placing a kiss there.  

“I always will. Speaking of we should probably talk about me changing.” You stated softly making him frown.  

“I don’t see why you need to change. You look fine the way you are now.” He stated in confusion which had you giggling.  

“I meant into a vampire. I don’t wanna be old and wrinkly while you still look hotter than hell itself.” You chuckled and he pulled away from you his eyes widening.  

“You’d become a vampire for me?” He asked as if he couldn’t believe it.  

“Of course, I would. I’m waiting till I turn 21 though.” You chuckled making him smile down at you with a loving smile.  

“Yes, love.” He laughed as you pulled him back in for another hug.  

This was the man you loved, no matter what. 

[nthspecialll]

Red dead characters as horses, based not on vibes but personality.

Firstly, I am an equestrian of twelve years I know that a horse's breed doesn't fully determine it's personality and you can find any horse of any breed with any personality, but this is based on stereotypes, my own personal experience and well... Google. Again, this is not by vibes, but personality so reflect a little from horse to person.

Arthur Morgan - American Quarter Horse

No matter if it is a show pony or a workhorse you are looking for, the American Quarter Horse got you. It is known for being easy to handle but reliable no matter the job given. It is a good all-around horse and can handle anything from beginner lessons to high-level competitions.

Hosea Matthews - Norwegian Fjord Horse

Very sweet and docile-looking horse but make no mistake, this beast has more opinion, sass and stubbornness than you would ever imagine. Intelligent in the way that it is fully aware of the people around it and knows when it is time to play tricks and run corners and when it is time to play it sweet. The second you dare underestimate it it will remind you that it is in fact stronger than what you might expect.

Dutch Van Der Linde - The Andalusian

A horse breed known widely for being elegant and fancy but unlike many other hot blooded (reactive) horses, tends not to get hurt as easily, coming out fine from situations where the other hot blooded might have gotten wounded in. Although known for being smart, attentive and sensible, they can easily become too much to handle if handled wrongly.

John Marston - The Arabian

Now I know some people are gonna be like "no that doesn't fit at all!" but hold on, just listen, hear me out. Although generally known for being hot-headed, hard to control and stupid, they are actually quite intelligent, have a high endurance and are well aware of their surroundings. With dense and strong bone structure they are quite resilient to much, however they do tend to get wounded in their own hot-headedness... (John I am looking at you strolling up to Fort Mercer and getting fkn shot on sight, tf you thought was gonna happen?)

Javier Escuella - American Mustang

A wild horse known for its stubborn spirit and the lengths it will go to for freedom. It takes a long time trusting, however once having earned its heart it is the most loyal you can find. It is also a highly adaptable horse.

Bill Williamson - Irish Cob/Gypsy Vanner (Same breed, different name)

Lazy, hard to get moving and often seen as bad, the last choice or a breed that wouldn't hold up in bigger competitions, however is actually quite good and does any job well. They are eager to please (Bill to Dutch) and can also grow a beard!

Till Jackson - The Shetland Pony

Small and very adorable looking to a point one thinks they are harmless, and while they can be very sweet, they are going to throw you the second you least expect it. They will not let their short stature and cute appearance be a disadvantage to them but instead use it against others. (Knew one that bit the taller horse's stomach and became the damn leader of that herd)

Charles Smith - The Friesian

Often seen as scary and frightening looking due to their tough exterior, however they are very kind-hearted and highly intelligent. They are loyal and well-mannered, very reliable and makes a good companion.

Kieran Duffy - The Haflinger

A very gentle and generally curious fella. Known for being very friendly and people-oriented. If you spend any time around them you will also often find out that they are quite silly, however make no mistake, they are still horses and thus will always be dangerous.

Josiah Trelawny - Pryor Mountain Mustang

An endangered form of Mustang that are known for elegance and athleticism and while could easily make for a great show pony there is a few problems. They are not very reliable as they are quite skittish and tend to flee as well as be quite hard to tame and tie down.

[asdfghjklmals]

THE SWEETEST SIGHT✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff. suggestive jokes. WORD COUNT: 2.1k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc, dad!gojo, mom!oc, established couple.

SYNOPSIS: oc gojo girlfriend and satoru take their child to get donuts after an unfair game of hide and seek. AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is the first fic i've ever written with sayuri being a little older. it's so cute and fun to imagine how oc gojo girlfriend and satoru would be as parents. after what happened with jjk 236, i thought we could use some lightheartedness. 💚 artwork is from ‘who made me a princess’. REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

“satoru gojo! how many times do i have to tell you to stop leaving your socks around the apartment?!” you screeched out to the white haired sorcerer. "we have a laundry hamper for this exact reason!"

this over-a-decade long battle with satoru’s socks terrorizing the apartment floor would never end.

two little feet came quickly shuffling towards you in the living room where you were standing.

“mommy!” your white haired child yelled at you while wiggling her index finger with the sass she inherited from you, “no no yell daddy!” (translation: “don’t yell at daddy!”)

this child not only has you, but satoru gojo wrapped around her finger. sayuri gojo would do anything for her daddy, even if that meant defending him from mommy. you kissed the front of your teeth and crouched down to your baby girl’s level to calmly say to her, “mommy’s not yelling at daddy, yurs.”

that satoru gojo. ever since sayuri was born, satoru always used her to double team you. and now that she could walk (very wobbly) on her own and speak a few words for her young age, she always came running to his defense with her two little feet. it was like he trained her just to spite you for all the arguments throughout the years you've been together.

“mommy yell.” sayuri reported back to you innocently, holding your cheeks in her two tiny plump hands. (translation: “daddy said mommy is yelling at him.”)

you grabbed her hands from your face and kissed each of her palms before picking her up and perching her on the side of your hip. you asked her cunningly, “now, where is your daddy?”

she replied with a giggle, “daddy pee-ah-boo!” (translation: “daddy is playing hide and go seek!”)

peek-a-boo was another name for hide and go seek in your household according to sayuri. you sighed and made your way to your master bedroom to find your childish baby daddy. his go-to hiding spot whenever he was playing with sayuri was the master bedroom closet.

“satoru,” you called out to him in a threat-laced tone, “don’t make me come find you—or else.”

sayuri started to giggle again. it was obvious she knew where satoru was hiding. you looked down at your baby girl in your arm and whispered to her, “where is daddy hiding?”

she shrieked with laughter and nuzzled her face in your chest, pointing at the closed closet door. she thought this game of hide and go seek was hilarious because mommy was playing this time.

you walked towards the closet and attempted to turn the doorknob. it was locked. you closed your eyes and sighed again. time for plan b.

“i guess mommy and sayuri should just go to the bakery down the street to get donuts since we can’t find daddy.” you feigned out loud, turning on your heels to make your way towards the living room with sayuri. you noticed she was still looking over your shoulder at the closet door, probably wondering why her father hasn’t shown himself yet.

you heard the doorknob rattle quickly, “wait!” satoru called out to you, “—daddy wants to come too!”

hook. reel. and sink em’.

you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist as sayuri started laughing again. your child’s laughter was the best sound in the world. satoru always said he loved your laugh, and you never understood why until you heard sayuri’s laugh for the first time. her laugh always started out with a cackle—then a high pitch squeal type of giggle.

“gotcha.” you turned to face satoru and teased him, “you are so bad at hide and seek, babe.”

satoru grinned at you before he bent down to kiss the top of sayuri’s head. “so, are we going to get donuts or not?”

“your treat?” you asked innocently with the puppy dog eyes you knew he couldn’t resist, “—since you made me pick up your socks… again.”

“daddy,” sayuri also looked at him with the same green puppy dog eyes as you, “yuwi donuh?” (translation: “can sayuri have a donut too?”)

with no hesitation at all, satoru caved, “well, when my two girls double team me with such cute eyes like that, how can i say no?”

******************************

you and satoru watched as your daughter sat across from the both of you in a high chair. she was eating her double chocolate donut, sweet milk chocolate all over her face and hands. donut crumbles scattered around her and her plate. it was a sweet (literal), but messy sight. you were so grateful for whoever created silicone bibs for children.

“how did our baby girl get such a sweet tooth?” satoru smiled while admiring sayuri, watching her stuff her face. his elbow resting on the table, cheek resting in his palm.

you face palmed yourself before taking a bite of your glazed donut, “don’t you know who her father is?”

“some handsome guy named satoru gojo.” satoru sat back in his chair with his arms folded. he thought he was so funny with that statement.

you rolled your eyes at him and turned back to face your daughter. she was licking her chocolate covered fingers. she stopped when she made eye contact with you and satoru.

“daddy,” she started to say, “no donuh?” (translation: “why aren’t you eating your donut?”)

you looked at satoru’s untouched double chocolate donut sitting in front of him. her question was very valid.

“i’m just watching ya’ first, sweetheart.” satoru replied calmly, he winked at her from under his sunglasses. “i’ll take a bite, just for you, yurs.”

satoru picked up his donut and broke it in half before he bit into it. it was a tiny habit he had whenever he got a donut because he didn’t want to get chocolate glaze all over his mouth.

sayuri started giggling and clapping, her sparkly green eyes gleaming, “yay!” she was happy to see her daddy enjoying his donut too.

it was the simple moments like walking down the street to get donuts with your little family that made life worth it for you and satoru. your heart swelled at the sight of your white haired baby girl and your white haired lover sitting across from each other, both enjoying their double chocolate donut. they were the spitting images of each other… with the same exact sweet tooth. like father, like daughter.

you happily put your arm around satoru’s broad shoulder and pulled him closer to you, planting multiple kisses on his cheek as he continued to chew on his sweet treat. you could tell by the way his lips curved, he was loving the attention he was receiving from you.

“me!” sayuri called out, hands reaching out for you.

you asked your baby girl, “you want a kiss from mommy too?”

“no! yuwi kiss daddy!” (translation: “no, i want to give daddy a kiss too!”)

you laughed and reached into your diaper bag to take out baby wipes to wipe your daughter’s chocolate covered fingers, purposely skipping her face and mouth for now. you picked her up from the high chair and held her as she leaned her face towards satoru’s cheek.

sayuri held her father’s face with her chubby hands, pecking satoru with her tiny lips. the sweet chocolate-covered kiss decorated satoru’s cheek as you giggled. you and satoru were never shy when it came to spoiling your daughter with affection, it was a no brainer she would want to give love to her mom and dad too.

“thanks, sweetheart.” satoru said with a toothy smile.

he wiped his mouth with a napkin while you returned to your seat next to him, this time with sayuri in your arms. you wiped off the remaining chocolate from sayuri’s face and satoru’s cheek with another baby wipe.

“ready to go?” you asked satoru as he finished eating. he took one last sip of his coffee and nodded. you got up from your seat.

“hold on,” satoru grabbed your arm, “you got something on your face, sweetheart.”

“i do?” you turned to grab a pocket mirror from sayuri’s diaper bag to inspect your face.

you felt satoru pull you towards him. you looked back at him. his lips found yours as he gently peppered kisses along your bottom lip. he pulled away from you to lick his lips, “just a piece of glaze from your donut. i got it.”

“satoru—” you whispered with a warning, “no funny business in front of our daughter or the bakery employees.”

sayuri’s curious green eyes looked over at you two, “kiss!”

“again?” you asked her with a soft chuckle, eyes disappearing behind your smile.

you may have not understood sayuri, but satoru did. the doting father laughed out loud before leaning over to give his daughter a kiss on the cheek too. how could he resist her cute little comments? and not to mention she embodied half of the best parts of you and him. he couldn’t love anything in the world more than sayuri and you.

sayuri giggled and squealed loudly as satoru snuck a few more kisses to her cheek and forehead. she attempted to hide from him by shoving her face into your arms and chest. it was the sweetest sight you ever saw.

EXTRA:

a pair of socks sitting in the middle of the floor of your bedroom taunted you this morning as you were making the bed.

satoru, who was playing with your daughter in the living room earlier, walked into the bedroom. he made eye contact with the socks and his eyes widened. "wait. babe, before you yell at me... watch this." satoru raised his hands up in defense and called out for your daughter, "yurs!"

you glared at him, "are you calling the president of the satoru gojo protection squad so she can just defend you again?"

sayuri's two little feet came running into the room, she looked at satoru with eager eyes. he pointed to his socks on the floor, "socks."

two bright green eyes shared a cheeky smile with him. she picked up the socks and walked to the laundry hamper to place them next to it. she wasn't tall enough to put them directly into the hamper, but right next to it would do according to her father.

"so you're training our daughter to be your maid?" you threw an ice shard at satoru as he laughed. he walked over to the hamper where your daughter was standing and picked her up. putting her up on his shoulders as she held his head, nuzzling hers with his.

"come to mommy, yurs. daddy is being ridiculous." you held your arms out for sayuri, but satoru backed away from you playfully, refusing to give you his baby girl. you scolded satoru, "—be careful, satoru. don't drop her."

"would i ever drop her?" satoru asked incredulously, offended that you would even think he would drop the most precious thing in the world to him. he always had a secure grip on sayuri, and his infinity would never let her hit the ground if she ever fell from his arms or shoulders.

"i mean... you've dropped me before, so there's no reassurance there." you retorted, remembering the very brazen shower memory where satoru dropped you. you may have slipped out of his grasp, but you weren’t going to admit that. you had a bruise on your butt cheek for weeks because of it.

satoru smirked and approached you with a sultry voice. he whispered in your ear, "i said i was sorry. if we try it again, i promise i won't drop you this time."

you giggled at the tempting offer but refused, "no, i swore off of showers with you after that."

satoru kissed your earlobe as you shivered. your returned the favor and kissed him on the corner of his lips before reaching up for your baby girl, swiping her from his shoulders.

"should we have breakfast, my baby?" you asked sayuri. she held your face in her tiny little palms and smiled at you. she had the same exact smirk as satoru. the same one you fell in love with so long ago.

“pancake?” sayuri asked.

you laughed, “yes, baby—with bananas too.”

you started to walk out of the bedroom to make your way to the kitchen with your daughter attached to your hip.

satoru smiled at the sight of you and sayuri. he called out to the both of you, "wait for daddy you two!"

you and sayuri were the sweetest things in satoru gojo's life. satoru thought that he could stay on this specific type of sugar rush forever.

© 2023 ASDFGHJKLMALS — ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK.

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

[glassrowboat]

🎲 I am always one for enabling

4. A kiss atop the head.

One Kiss, Blue Fish. Furina.

Word count: 900+

One kiss for her, one kiss for the little gold colored statuette. A habit now so ingrained into your routine as keys pressed into your palm on your way out the door that it was simply instinct to lean down for both of them. Even after the first layer of golden plating started to wear down and revealed a greenish hue beneath.

Oxidation. Something you have had the chance to grow familiar with as the old statues of dogs in the park tucked away between the building of the capital, all beared proof of their noses being scratched and petted. The sight of it alone had you shaking your head, a smile always fighting to turn your lips up ever so slightly.

This habit had all started from a single joke. One comment, that's all it took after Furina had brought home the mini version of her (err- or the Hydro Archon that she was) that now turned to being part of your daily life.

Your fingers had been gliding over the reward as you heard her debating over what to do with it after coming home. Her gloved fingers clutched onto it in a way that failed to hide how they shook just from the sight of the thing alone.

To place it proud and center on the mantle, she pondered. Maybe even bury it away in the guestroom that you only ever used once. Long forgotten after Furina had grown accustomed to sharing a bed with you. Or, simply, toss it out like it was trash?

To that, a startled and over dramatized gasp left you. Hand to your chest to truly sell that bit of how hurt you were at such an appalling suggestion. “You would dare toss the image of my lover in the garbage?”

So, after your ploy of pretending it mattered more to you that it truly did and a spat that was more playful than anything, you placed the mini Furina on the mantle. Tall and proud. Placing a kiss to its little head, you had turned back to her, a cheeky smile on your lips.

A habit set in stone from there on.

One a certain someone clearly wasn't a fan of as her cheeks were puffed out, and a pout graced her features just like that day.

“If you're just going to give out two kisses, you might as well give the second one to me too.” She insisted, head turned away from you as she held up her nose.

It spoke levels about how comfortable she was with you. Willing to give attitude and sass she would normally be afraid anyone else would look at and think of the Hydro Archon she once represented. But there was no need for that here. Not with you.

“That so?”

Taking a strand of hair, that same one that stuck up in the air no matter how much she tried to tame it in the mornings, you twirled it around your finger. The shades of blue and white were almost hypnotizing to watch even when her head bounced up and down to nod.

“Yes! It only makes sense you would give me, your lover, your affection instead of that thing.”

“Now, now, my little mermaid.” You teased as her gaze fell on the golden trophy, eyes surely puncturing the cheap plating covering it. “I can give you two kisses from here on out if you really want.”

Her small little giggle filled the air, seeming appeased with this outcome. For now.

“And I'll give the little replica two on the way out, too.”

She called your name, a high-pitched whine that accompanied her tugging ever so slightly on your sleeve. The way she always said that truly did capture your attention, more so than anyone else who's ever used it before as you bent down to her height.

Eye to eye as you asked “yes?”

“If that's what you're so intent on doing, then you'll have to give me three.”

“You drive a hard bargain.” Wrapping your arms around her waist, the frills of her outfit tickled your arms as she moved in a little closer. The shuffle of her heels heard on the hardwood floor as Furina moved into your hold. “But of course, three kisses.”

If it makes her happy, then it's more than worth it.

“Then take this from the top."

Furina grabbed your keys off the mantle, pulling them away from the statuette you placed them next to when she had first called for your attention. Rattling in her hand as she placed them in yours.

“All the way from the top? Next thing you know, there will be a clapperboard telling me when I can and can't start helping you bathe.”

“T-that’s not important right now.”

Before she could pull away, to hide her blushing cheeks behind a false attitude and layers of hair she hoped would block her face away, you pressed your lips to her hairline. The perfume Neuvillette gifted her after her departure from the Palais Mermonia, only welcoming your touch even more.

Drawing your in closer as you muttered “one kiss, two kiss, three kiss,” with every peck to her forehead. Only a small part of you is resisting the urge to continue teasing her and say ‘red fish, blue fish’ to finish your little poem.

Alas, that can wait another day.

Just like how tomorrow you plan to give three kisses to the statuette just to see Furina pitch another fit.

[opal-owl-flight]

Quick lore question, did marie considering the idea of replacing 4 play into the insecurities she has later?

Absolutely.

I wanna preface this by saying one thing: Young 4 was a COMPLETELY different person before she got recruited by Marie. And Marie...responds to her accordingly.

Long read abt Hero2 events below!! Its. A lil messy sorry qisjke these are my notes

Young 4? A bitch.

Everything she ever wanted was given to her. Moved out of the highlands with an ego the size of a planet (and also bc she felt suffocated there), thinking she can make it in the big city.

...she struggled to make it alone. She had moved out bc her family was suffocating her with love, but now theyre not here, so now she feels homesick and underappreciated.

All that is expressed by her harsh, bitchy attitude. Shes gonna be mean bc no one has seen her for who she is. She'll show them!!

She finds her way around like this, and discovers that shes just as good at turf war here and at home. In fact, shes *so* good that she got the status of a rising star!

It aaalll just gets into her head. Shes "proven everyone wrong" now. Shes got the superiority complex and can back it up.

Marie...

...saw this. She was looking for a new agent to help find the missing zapfish. The second 4 heard this from her, she flexed her arms and...

"Look no further, your hero is RIGHT HERE!"

Marie at first adored the spunkiness of this new agent. Uuuntil 4 started thinking that shes better than her.

"Watch out, Agent Four!"

"You watch YOURSELF, grandma! Think Im a damn idiot to not see that coming? WAHA!"

Marie rolled up her sleeves after several stages full of her ignoring orders or sassing her out of nowhere.

Is that how shes gonna be? Fine.

When 4 finally trips and falls, hard, on a particularly difficult level, Marie pulls her to the side to fix her up and give her a lecture that tore her fucking ego to shreds.

She says something so fucking harsh like "That attitude will make SURE that you die sad and alone. I wonder how anyone puts up with you."

4s too hurt by her own failure to say anything back.

The reality of war finally gives her a reality check. Each victory is earned. its her life on the line. And the world.

She regains her spunk after saving the world.

------

Silly 4. She gets the job done but it takes a LOT of pushing in the mid-stages. Its like she got legitimately bored after the initial super easy ones, and thought the entire campaign a joke.

She went back to her turfing life topside between stages. And she takes a WHILE to come back to her missions -- usually late!! And then before she even goes in she just HAS to yak Marie's face off with what she was doing up there.

"Youre late."

"You shouldve SEEN ME, Marie!! I was carrying that Rainmaker round! I was-"

"Pray tell, Agent Four. How will you keep participating in turf with the Zapfish gone?"

"Whaat? Cmon. Nothing seems to be changing! Theres still power through the city!"

"The backup supply wont last forever, you know."

"Yeah yeah. Okay. Im here now. Wheres the next kettle?"

This attitude is from her high school days, clearly. She breezes by everything so fast that she can afford to do things last minute. It affects even this.

That, alongside her talking smack back to Marie, is what makes her snap at 4. Its what makes 4 stick to the mission fully starting late area 4 and area 5. (This is also around the time 4s life was threatened. God help me in those stupid platforming stages)

Post Hero2, 4 more or less does what 3 does. Shes the "replacement" til 3 comes back. (That cant be good for her confidence.)

At the same time, she has to deal with Callie and Marie talking out what the fuck Callie did with Octaria. "THEY SQUIDNAPPED GRAMPS!!!" and all. Why help them??? They get into squabbles where 4 was the unfortunate witness to. And peacemaker. It does NOT help that Callie for a while kept putting the glasses back on!!!

4 wishes so bad she had help of any sort. She feels 3 might be able to do something but what does she know?? Shes never met em!! She just imagines what the missing agent would do in that situation.

Callie...was also the person she got close to. Shes fun (unlike the stuck up Marie), shes empathic, she opened 4s eyes to the Octarian plight. It made her acceptance of 8 later much smoother.

Im not saying shes not close to Marie either, I bet they healed their relationship around this year too. Marie's sorry she tore 4s ego the way she did (even if deserved...). Marie's much more supportive of what 4s doing topside. Shes expressing her pride in the agent she found much more openly. (She brags abt her to Callie at times.)

The three of them heal together in that time. 4 sees them as older sisters Im p sure. Theyre both giving her tips for turfing and -- Marie even helps her with homework, HAH

And...while I say that 4 and Marie are in better terms, there are still days where Marie blows up on her. Lesser extent than before, but shes *worried* for her agent! (Its a similar plight 3 has.) In those times, its Callie who has her back. ("Hey! Its not like shes not trying!!" Callie understands how it is, and she also knows Marie best -- shes the one who makes 4 understand where Marie is coming from.)

[sunkeji]

Heyyy can i ask for tsukishima and sakasu were them and the reader try those periods simulation things! The reader is all fine and chill while the boys are screaming bloody murder and asking how the reader deals with these on a monthly basis! Separately please! Thank you!!!!

Period simulator ft. Tsukishima & Sakusa

a/n: I'm sorry I got to this late!! I didn't like how I wrote it originally so I scrapped the whole thing and redid it. Hopefully you like this (⁠^⁠^⁠)

Warnings: curse word used in sakusa's part, not proofread, if taken out of context it sounds pretty weird,it feels like i wrote a descriptive essay.

Imagine you make a bet against your boyfriend that if he was a girl, he wouldn't be able to bear the pain of period cramps but he says otherwise. So after that conversation with him, you purchase a period simulator to try during the weekend with him. Sitting on the couch side by side with the period simulator between you two, he steels himself for what's about to come while you are brimming with anticipation.

Tsukishima Kei

He was super confident at first that he would be able to withstand the pain. Not because he undermines the pain of period cramps but because he thinks he has a high pain tolerance. But little does he know...

At the first setting, it was still alright. It was uncomfortable, but still bearable. He brushed off your teasing comments, telling him that it's okay to back out now if it was too painful. He merely rolled his eyes and quipped back, saying he could go to sleep at this setting.

You crank the pain to level 3 and you see Tsukishima jolt. You give him a teasing smile and he quickly says that it was just very sudden and how he didn't expect it and blah blah blah.

You don't even give him a minute to get use to it when a mischievous smile makes its way to your face and you switch it to the highest setting.

Just as quickly as you switched its setting to the highest, you hear a quiet whimper come out of him. The both of you freeze and time seems to have stopped save for the ticking of the clock in the living room.

You hit him with the:

You open your mouth and are about to say something but he quickly interjects in a quiet voice; "no, keep it to yourself, I don't want to hear it" all while avoiding eye contact. You know he's not being mean, just a bit embarrassed or sulky maybe 🤔 so you don't take it to heart.

After that whole fiasco, he made you promise to not utter a single word to anyone about this. And one more time you bring up the fact that the great Tsukishima Kei had actually whimpered, he might actually strangle you for real this time.

Jokes aside, He's left speechless that you actually have to deal with this each time you get your period. He's much nicer to you now when you're on your period, You get less sass from him when on your period and he's more understanding of your situation now.

Sakusa Kiyoomi

Can’t believe you actually bought it. Scolds you for wasting your money but since you’ve already bought it, might as well try it. He pretends like this whole thing is a nuisance but he is actually very curious.

He’s kinda nervous because from what he’s seen with you on days where your period cramps are really bad, it looks like you’re suffering from an unknown stomach disease that’s plagued the entire female population in the world and you are just another one of its victims.

Some very tiny part of him wants to be tough and show you that he’s strong but in actuality, he’s in for a rude awakening. He takes level 1 and 2 like a breeze but when you turn it up to level 3, beads of sweat are rolling down his forehead and he’s gripping the armrest of the couch and the veins in his arm are visible.

You glance at him, waiting for another reaction but when nothing else happens, you feel a tad bit disappointed and tell him you’ll put it to the highest setting now. He’s about to protest and reaches out to grab your arm but the intensity of the period simulator takes him by surprise and instead he ends up grabbing your thigh and squeezes it hard.

Now the both of you are screaming profanities and are thrashing around. If he doesn’t let go, you can’t adjust the setting of the period simulator. And if you don’t adjust the settings of the period simulator, he can’t let go because it hurts like a bitch. It’s a whole never ending cycle.

So its a few seconds of the two of you thrashing around before you reach under his shirt and yank the wires and simulator off of him. Then, it’s just the sounds of the two of you heavily breathing and trying to catch your breaths. You turn to him and your eyes go wide when you see he actually has a few tears rolling down his cheeks as he stares at you blankly.

Now you’re left wondering what’s the appropriate course of action. Do you start cackling like a maniac because you never thought he’d start crying then console your boyfriend or do it the other way around? Well you didn’t have to think about it for long because a few seconds later, his head fell ontop of your lap with his arm covering his eyes.

You ask him if he’s feeling okay with a goofy smile plastered on your face from the event that had previously unfolded. You hoped your boyfriend wouldn’t move his arm now otherwise he’d pinch you for smiling at his misery. He mumbles softly about how he just needs a few minutes to recollect himself and then he’ll be good to go. So in the meantime, you brush your fingers through his hair. After a few minutes or so he asks you with a sigh; “You’ll never let this go will you?”. You laugh and plant a kiss on his head “Nope!”

You remind him how it feels even worse by adding the nausea, dizziness and low blood pressure you may get. So now he takes extra good care of you 🫶 he feeds you lots of red meat, refills your water bottle and even gives you massages anywhere you're feeling sore.

[bimobuddy]

Storms

Hazbin TK fic

Writing this because there's currently a storm going on that's not supposed to end until 7 pm, and I'm not doing well :)

Lee!Alastor, Ler!Lucifer

Alastor might be ooc

CW: Fear of storms?? Anxiety

Summary: Hell gets a really bad storm, and Alastor isn't as composed as he normally is. When Lucifer finds out the reason why, he decides to put their rivalry aside and help him out.

BOOM

Alastor gripped his cane tightly in his hands, his permanent grin slightly more strained than usual. Wordlessly, he stood up from his seat and made an excuse to Charlie about needing to finish up some scripting for his next broadcast.

He turned and left the lobby, his shoes clicking as he walked down the hall.

CRAAACK!!

His breath caught in his throat as he picked up the pace a little, his ears starting to fold back.

"Heeey, Bambi!" Lucifer called, appearing in front of him. Oblivious to the Radio Demon's distress, he grinned, ready to harass him. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

Alastor gripped his cane so hard he thought he was about to snap it. "Not that it's any of your business, your highness, but I'm heading back to my room." He replied, trying to mask his fear behind his usual smile and sass.

As thunder sounded again, softer this time, more of a rolling sound, Lucifer picked up on Alastor's anxious demeanor. His tail flicked, and his ears were pinned back a little.

The king chuckled, "Oh come on, don't tell me you of all demons are scared of a little-"

BOOOM!!

Lucifer blinked and looked around. Had Alastor disappeared? The light sound of microphone feedback caught his attention, and he turned to see that Alastor hadn't disappeared into shadow, but instead dropped to the floor and hidden under a table in the hall.

Alastor's ears were fully pinned back as he shook and pressed himself back against the wall.

Sensing this was something deeper, Lucifer kneeled down to be eye level with him. "Hey," he started, speaking softly, the same way he had to Charlie when she was a child and scared of the dark, "You're okay, Al. This hotel was built with angelic power, the storm isn't going to break in."

Alastor, eyes wide still, looked up at the king. When Lucifer took a chance and reached a hand out, he was surprised when Alastor took it.

"When I was a child," the demon started, his voice losing its radio filter, "a really bad tornado hit Louisiana. It devastated our town and nearly destroyed my home. I was in the cellar with my mother for hours until we were found."

Lucifer's eyes widened a little bit, as he felt his heart break for the demon. He gave Alastor's hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "You know, Charlie used to be afraid of storms too-"

Alastor forced a short laugh. "Wonderful, I'm behaving like a child." He pulled his hand away, and climbed out from under the table, feeling embarrassed for having acted like that in front of his rival. As another boom of thunder sounded, Alastor froze and gripped the table so hard, the wood started to crack and splinter.

Lucifer summoned his wings and wrapped one side around Alastor. "Let me walk you to your room-" Alastor shook his head. "My room is modeled to look like the swamps of Louisiana, I can't-... I can't stay in there during a storm."

"Alright then... My room, come on." He turned and started to guide Alastor in the opposite direction. He folded his wings in and de-summoned them, as to let Alastor retain his dignity when they passed by the lobby again.

As he was being guided, Alastor didn't once argue or complain, much to the surprise of Lucifer. He actually stayed rather close to the king, ears down, forcing himself to take deep breaths.

When they reached Lucifer's room, there was a flash of lightning, causing Alastor to rush in quickly. Seeing Alastor break character so much was very odd and concerning to the king. For as long as he had known the demon, Alastor had the attitude of someone who was untouchable. And now here he was, shaking, and bleating like a scared fawn.

He sighed, feeling bad for him. He remembered when Charlie would come running into his room scared, during a storm. Back then, he would have scooped her up into his lap, and they would have counted the seconds between the flashes of lightning and the cracking of thunder. And when that didn't work, he'd- Oh there's an idea.

"Alastor?" He started, taking his hat off and setting aside. "You wanna know what I used to do with Charlie when she was scared of storms?" He asked with a smile.

The Radio Demon turned to face him. He was still holding onto that smile, but his eyes showed just how distressed he was. He tilted his head.

Lucifer waved him over, sitting down. "I'll show you, sit down." Alastor approached and sat next to him, willing to try anything at this point to calm his nerves. He set his cane aside and let out a surprised fawn squeak when the king just opened his coat. He was obviously wearing a shirt underneath, but he hadn't expected for Lucifer to touch him.

"It was a little game we'd play. You ready?" Before Alastor could question it, he saw another flash of lighting that made him jump. That was Lucifer's cue to start.

He reached forward and started to scritch his claws against Alastor's sides, up and down. The demon let out a startled yelp, and at first Lucifer thought maybe this was a bad idea. But when the host started to chuckle and lean into it, he smiled and continued.

As thunder rolled and boomed overhead, Lucifer slid his hands upward and spidered over his ribs. Alastor doubled over, laughing harder, yet he barely even noticed the loud noise, only able to focus on the tickling.

Playful claws zipped down and vibrated into his hips, and the radio host couldn't help but curl up and fall onto his side, tail wagging. He squeezed his eyes shut and laughed louder, his own hands shooting down to grab Lucifer's, yet he didn't push him away, seeming to be more than okay with this distraction.

The king gave his hips a break and reached up to gently scritch behind his ears. He couldn't stop the fond smile that painted itself across his face once Alastor's loud laughter melted away into staticky giggles.

Lucifer summoned his wings back and again, and wrapped them around Alastor, pressing them against his back. Alastor normally hated touch, but he welcomed this. It was warm, and the gentle, constant pressure against his back was helping with his anxiety, a lot actually.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Lucifer plucking one of his own feathers. His cheeks warmed and his ears folded back, but he didn't attempt to escape. He just squeezed his eyes shut again, and allowed the angel to flutter it under his chin.

Alastor burst into surprised giggles, shocked at just how ticklish it was. It definitely didn't feel like a normal feather, it was worse.

Lucifer chuckled, "Yeah, angels feathers, they're much more intense than birds." He saw the window flash, and brought the feather down to Alastor's tummy, pushing his shirt up. Right when the thunder started, he started to flick and flutter the feather against his skin, grinning to himself when Alastor jumped and curled up, laughing, gently batting at the king.

Yet he didn't even notice the storm outside.

[tht0nesimp]

Entitled Daring

thinking about hazbin hotel with such a level of sass. Thinking they deserve respect or otherwise from their unfair yan! Partners, this is inspired by a JJK post so if this doesn’t make sense…go figure

tw: noncon(mentioned), abuse, kidnapping, infantilization, teasing, crying

•I think he enjoys a little spitfire, someone entitled to believe their High-Class, someone who feels they have a better sense of…Well, that’s not all too important down where they are

•So when you scream that you’re too good for this, those sweet cheeks red and covered in tears from your initial capture? It’s enough to make him laugh, he’s not a cruel Yandere, but something just makes him want to nuzzle you up and never let go when your in an episode of rich-bitch vibe

• He’s close to a real smile when his darling talks about Justice as he makes deals, especially if he’s already trapped you in one. Since he’s been in hell, he hasn’t seen all too much kindness or understanding from anyone who lived more than a day or two in hell

• And he’s ready to fully enjoy your weak point, he’s determined to trick you into a deal whether you know it or not; Nothing will be as satisfying as teaching you true fairness, he takes count of casual sins you commit around the hotel

•One he has you under contract, it’s only fair he punishes you for your sin! Don’t forget, Justice is best served cold

•The Vees all have a relatively similar idea, they like when you feign innocence

• Because there is nothing more satisfying than taking it away, if they find you and that sweet look of fear on your face then don’t expect to remain without kiss marks and love bites littering you afterwards

• Once they take you away, the look remains and they all enjoy seeing you struggle on the fluffy canopy bed they provided your room with

• Keep struggling like that, and maybe those binds will come off… or so they say~

• He feeds into some poor demons obsession with Beauty (or handsomeness for my dudes🫶)

•I’m not a huge fan of him, but something about him worshipping some demon who believe their a hotshot now that they have his undivided attention

•But…even Lucifer has his limits, and if you manage to get to the end of that rope? Being a pretty face really ain’t much when your at the mercy of the literal king of hell…

[randoimago]

Hi! Could a I request Gale from Bg3 with a playful and affectionate reader? Like they are always calling him silly names or sassing him, but also love to kiss his face and hug him? You can make it more chaotic if you want, do whatever you want! Thanks so much!

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Character(s): Gale

Note(s): I love how sassy Gale can be, so a sassy partner sounds great for him

Gale

The thing with Gale is that he is more than glad to sass you back. He's got plenty of knowledge and has been through a lot. The level of sass and "done with this shit™️" he has is a lot, and he can dish it back out to you.

Calling him by your silly, little nicknames makes him roll his eyes and shake his head. He doesn't hate the nicknames and doesn't find them genuinely annoying, but it's fun to pout and pretend to be upset because you give him more affection.

And Gale loves his affection. Time and place, of course, but with his high-level magic coming back, even those things won't matter soon enough. Gale is happy to hold you back and give your own face plenty of kisses, too.