#not bad things obviously but like little mistakes :) ! trying to be more positive

[spdrvyn]

tearful territory

miguel and a sensitive, tearful reader. you try to overcome the obstacle that is sobbing and crying whenever you're confronted by your ever stern and stoic boss, but your habit gets the best of you. no matter how hard you try to hide it.

hurt/comfort. miguel is bad with feelings. reader is bad with regulating their feelings. bad feeling and bad feeling regulation everywhere! thank you for this ask, anon <3

dividers by @/cafekitsune

You've been labeled as the family crybaby for as long as you could remember, so when you moved out, you'd figured that the habit of tearing up over even the tiniest of inconveniences would evade you. After all, you were now a hardened vigilante, beating up bad guys, saving a bunch of people should have gotten you tough skin. 

Wrong! While you have obviously improved and it hasn't been as bad as when you were still a kid, the tears that found themselves home in your eyes were now just protected by a mask, a symbol of your heroic deeds that hides the weak, meek, and fragile person beneath it. 

As you got recruited into Spider Society though, your mask was on more than half of the time. Even when eating, you only had it half-lifted just in case push came to shove.

Was it a little ridiculous? Yes. More than. But you'd rather bare the strange looks of people passing by you rather than have a full cafeteria of spiders witness you cry. You certainly didn't need to be labeled as Spider Society crybaby too, making work arounds for your habit was working for you now anyway.

Unfortunately, the universe is cruel. Oh-so cruel. 

You were a relatively new addition to the Spider Society which means that the head honcho had been doting on you for a while now, doting was a strong word, but he'd call you into his office to give you feedback on your performance in missions so far.

Completely fine, besides most of the reports had been positive. Though, the thing about Miguel is that he's actually an uplifting boss when he can be. Which means he always gave you advice, tips to help you get better next time, and pointed out your mistakes from each mission. 

Again, completely fine! You were okay with criticism, more than okay with it. But that lump that formed in your throat, the warmth that crept into your face, it functioned like clockwork. So you've just resorted to keeping your mask on whenever you had a meeting with him too, problem solved. 

Another thing you didn't know about Miguel though was despite his lack of a sixth, spider-like sense, he'd a habit of his own. To be an observer, to pick up on the small details of the people he worked with. Even if he only saw them by mere chance, only passing by some in the multiple hallways of headquarters on occasion. 

It wasn't rocket science, even if Miguel did know rocket science, to figure out that you had an... issue with dealing with the slightest forms of rejection. Aside from the obvious hint that you were always masked around him, he also noticed that you were radio silent for most of the meetings, only interjecting with quiet 'mhm's and 'okay's. 

You were so quiet around him that it almost made him seem chatty. Miguel. Chatty. Those two words could not be in the same sentence, yet you made it possible. 

He didn't want to force you to take your mask off, the end goal wasn't to see you cry, but after a few months of having literal one-on-one meetings with him, he hadn't really sparked any form of connection with you. 

This time when you were called in, you two went through the ropes per usual. It didn't seem like you noticed Miguel's (un)conscious efforts to soften his tone, to relax his shoulders, and to not look completely stone-faced when talking to you. 

Miguel wasn't particularly used to this, has he had people cry in front of him? More than too many times, but never had he seen your case before. It made him wonder what was going on in that head of yours, to care so much about his input that you'd hide shedding even a single tear in front of him. 

The approach to the end of the meeting was steadfast, but before he let himself dismiss you. He asked, "Why do you always keep your mask on?" 

He knew fully well the reason why, but to hear it come from your mouth, would make it even more worthy of an answer. 

But the thing is that you don't answer him. It's the awkwardest moment of his life, he thinks. Two of you just standing there, his brows knit together in confusion and he's about to repeat his question or ask if you heard him until the smallest of squeaks ring in his ears and now you're turning your head away and clasping a hand over your mouth to conceal your noises. 

He followed in your direction, but he can't even see your face. Your shoulders shook as your fingers sloppily pulled your mask up so that you could furiously swipe at the tears that streamed down from your eye. You bit at your lip so hard to silence yourself to the point where you could be crying about how you're about to draw blood simply from the force of it. 

Miguel hadn't said anything, you couldn't see him either. How could you? You literally just broke down crying in front of him, there's no way you could ever show your face again here. 

You want to say something, you tried to at least. But all you get out is a choked, "Sorry, I'm-- Sorry." To which you don't even get a response to, but you can feel it. That thousand yard, judgemental stare that you always get for reacting like this. 

Which only caused you to get more shaken up when Miguel places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, which he uses to manuever you closer to him and to let him see your tear-struck face. Your first instinct to cower, you want to bring your hands to your face and peel your skin off like a banana peel, but Miguel doesn't let you.

In his other hand is a tissue to when he tenderly presses just below your eyes to wipe at the wetness, that hand on your shoulder moves to your chin and he lifts your face upward to get a good look at you. He doesn't look angry, rather concentrated. Locked in. 

Your chest heaves with the effort to keep it together, the onslaught of a really bad headache is rising over the horizon like it always does. Once Miguel's done, he discards of the tissue before he takes off your mask completely and sets it aside on his desk. The hand on your chin remains, a thumb on one cheek and the rest of his fingers on the other so your face looks a little smushed right now. A sight he'd like to appreciate if not for the circumstances. 

"So is this a common thing or?" The question almost seems a little unserious in nature, but that is mainly just the product of Miguel's awkwardness. He doesn't particularly do feelings, and he can't ask if you're okay because that might just lead to even more crying. 

Your voice is too dead to properly reply, you move your face in a half nod considering the grip he has on you. "And you've been wearing your mask because you don't want me to see?" He asks again, you nod more bashedly. 

A thin hum of understanding is all you can hear for him and he lets go of your face, but you can't hide anymore. Your mask is somewhere on his desk, it's managed to disappear among the slight mess that there is. It's awkward again, no words coming from either of you until–

"You're dismissed. Come back tomorrow." What? That's it? You put on this embarrassing display, you bawled in front of him, and he's letting you go? No lecture about how you need to be stronger of anything? 

The thought chases you in your dreams later on in the night. You found it hard to fall asleep that you swore you saw the sun peeking through the blinds once you were mentally fatigued enough to succumb to your exhaustion, you groggily swung over to Miguel's lab, your grip on your webs were too loose for your own safety but you managed to get over to him without any incidents. 

However, once his platform comes to a clicking halt, Miguel's back is turned to you. You notice that he wears a long sleeved turtleneck over his spider suit, a combination of articles you haven't seen on him before. 

The screen he was paying attention to turns off as he picks up a coffee cup on his right hand side and he holds it up to you, "It's colder out today." 

Whether that's to answer for the coffee or the drip, you don't mind. Silently taking the beverage, it brings warmth to your hand and you assume that it's freshly brewed considering the steam that comforts your cold cheeks. Miguel's attempt at small talk, despite how awkward, makes you feel a bit better. 

Maybe you needed this. This kind of one-on-one meeting. It's clear that he came to that same conclusion too, but for now, you'll enjoy your coffee, sit in the decreasingly uncomfortable silence, and look forward to the days you won't cry as much anymore.

#spiderman: across the spiderverse #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv #spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #fluff #hurt/comfort #spiderman 2099 #x reader #x you #x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n

[akoyaxs]

Dangerous Games - III ✮ Pairing: Aonung x Tayrangi/Omotikaya fem reader (possible Neteyam x reader as well) ✮ Tags: Reader POV, friends with benefits, p in v, aftercare, fluffy fluff fluff, Aonung x Reader, slight Neteyam x reader, reader has intimacy issues (childhood traumaᵕ̈), jealous Aonung, jealous Neteyam <3 ✮ Word Count: 5.4 k PART 1 HERE | PART 2 HERE Note: this (backstory and character dynamic) is heavily based of my wattpad fanfiction "Dangerous Game", it's just a little more mature than I would post on my WP so I'm doing a Aonung x reader part now instead of the Aonung x OC in the fanfiction ˙ᵕ˙

You didn't exactly make a mistake, you know that, yet it's not the best position to be in. On one hand, there's a massive, obnoxiously hot skxawng that is obsessed with you, happy to do anything you like, but on the other, the principal for not giving in to his endless and amused attempts at seduction has dismally failed.

Yet every few days different encounter isn't exactly making you regret your acceptance of his "friends with benefits" offer.

You might get hot from training, or Aonung might be frustrated with his unsuccessful attempts at ikran taming, and suddenly you're finding his head buried hungrily between your legs, or bent over as he's balls deep and roughly thrusting, all the while smoothing your hair and whispering his moaned praise.

You're always careful to not get attached, to never pay too much attention to the sincerity of his words and his surprising gentleness with you when you aren't in the middle of one of your "benefits", but you can never miss it.

It's starting to worry you, the way you're now starting to like the tender touches, the way he brushes your hair out of your face and tells you how well you're doing.

No one has ever been this careful with you, bothered to try at look after you like this. You know it's your fault that you push everyone away, but Aonung is the first to refuse to be pushed away.

He cares, for some inexplicable reason that makes no sense to you. He's infuriatingly stubborn, just like you are.

So weeks after the arrangement began, you begin to notice the other things, things that only mean one thing.

"He really likes you, you know."

"What?" you say, snapping out of your daze and looking up at Kiri, who smiles, her eyes darting to where yours had just been watching Aonung with Rotxo in the river.

You, the three metkayina and the Sullys had taken the day to go to the river so Rotxo, Tsireya and Aonung could swim.

Neteyam looks up from besides you as you frown at Kiri.

"What are you talking about?" you clarify.

"Aonung is obviously down fucking bad for you," Kiri grins. "I mean, he can't ever pull his eyes away from you, and when you aren't around him, he's always looking around to see where you are."

"No he's not," you scoff. "He-"

"Loves you," Neteyam finishes, his face blank and bored, as though he's pointing out the fucking obvious.

"No," you shake your head. "He just had a little thing for me at the start that-"

"Has grown into an unbearable love?" Kiri suggests. "The only question is if that love is unrequited or reciprocated."

"No!" you exclaim, covering your face. "We're just... friends. ish. Friendish."

"Right..." Neteyam says, raising his brows at you. "So you don't fuck."

"That's - that's- no- well, yeah but- I mean NO-"

"Oh Eywa," Kiri says, her incredulous laugh interrupting your awkward, desperate stammers. "You totally do!"

"That's not a big deal," you snap. "He's attractive and it doesn't mean anything, we're just... helping each other out, I guess."

Kiri mouths the words helping each other out, before turning and shooting her brother a disbelieving look. Neteyam's gaze is still and expressionless, flicking between your flushed face and Aonung in the river. 

You follow his gaze to see Aonung staring at you, and you quickly turn away, grabbing Neteyam to do the same.

"It's just sex, nothing else," you say strictly.

"Yes," Kiri sighs. "But you're old enough to have more. You could find a mate. Besides, you deserve to be happy-"

"You don't have a mate," you say defensively.

"She has Rotxo," Neteyam points out. "Lo'ak and Tsireya have each other. You're the only one who-"

"You don't have a mate either," you protest.

"Well that's different," Neteyam sighs. "I'm the next Olo'eyktan, remember? I can't just pick anyone for my mate, and besides, who I want-"

"WHO?" you say excitedly. "Is there someone else?!"

Neteyam doesn't answer, and you tackle him to the floor excitedly, shaking his shoulders and demanding he tells you who. Neteyam reluctantly opens his mouth to speak, but then he looks over your shoulder and quickly closes it.

Aonung is standing there, so massive that you have to crane your neck to look up at him. You have to admit that it's hard to not stare too hard- his paler smooth teal skin is glittering with little gleaming droplets of river water, and when you're this low besides him, you're kneeling for a very different task.

You don't need him to speak to understand what he's thinking about, but it's a question of why. However you just slide off of Neteyam who was still pinned underneath you and stand up.

Neteyam's face hardens as he watches you face Aonung, brows raised and waiting for him to speak.

"Can I speak to you?" Aonung asks dully.

Kiri is gaping, Rotxo and Lo'ak are laughing to themselves whilst Tsireya is adorably oblivious, and Neteyam is watching silently and emotionlessly as you nod and follow Aonung through the trees. You can feel his cold golden gaze burning into your back until you slip between the trees, and even when you know he couldn't see you any longer, you can feel the ghost of his inexplicable gaze between your shoulder-blades.

"Yes?" you ask, once you pause a little while away.

"Is there something between you and Neteyam?" Aonung asks, frowning down at you.

You blink confusedly back. You weren't expecting him to speak- expecting more of the usual quick fuck so you could both release some tension then head back to the others.

"What do you mean, something between me and Tey?"

"You call him Tey, for one thing," Aonung points out. "And you're with him a lot-"

"Funny," you say, folding your arms. "Because he says the exact same thing about you."

"But we're actually fucking," Aonung says, without any pretence of a smile in his blunt, deep voice. 

"What are you trying to say," you ask with narrowed eyes.

"Do you- uh -have any other friends," he asks, arms folded and blue eyes fixed challengingly in your golden-amber ones.

"What does that matter?"

"Because I want to know what I have to share," Aonung growls.

There's a strange, almost possessive glint in those ocean eyes now. Share. He thinks that he needs to share you.

"Why would it matter," you whisper. "We're not anything, this is just an arrangement. You're free to do whatever you like too."

You think for a moment that you broke Aonung. He is completely still, glaring so irately down at you with those blazing, large blue eyes as you try to guess what he's going to do next. But he still manages to surprise you when he leans forward and crashes his lips onto yours.

Everything has always been tentative, frightened to cross the barrier that would be too much for the other, but Aonung just doesn't seem to give a damn right now.

His mouth is warm and hungry, fangs lightly nipping your soft lips, hands roaming and grabbing and caressing with careless oblivion in a way that makes your skin ache afterwards in a welcome sting and bruise.

Then suddenly you're lifted up and you're on your knees right there on the forest floor. You can feel Aonung's breath hot and heavy as he nips at your neck, folded over your much smaller, arched body and sliding your tewngs away with quick hands.

"Is this-"

"Yes it's fine," you say, gasping a little as you feel yourself being stretched open, small stings of pain shooting through you as you drop your forehead to the ground and grunt. This is different to before, bent completely over with your face pillowed against the ground.

When he starts to move, it completely knocks your breath out, so you're left gasping for air you never manage to catch as he thrusts again. His grip on your waist is bordering on strangling, yet you find yourself unconsciously following him, pulling yourself back to meet each one of your thrusts with a choked moan.

His sudden roughness and hunger and desire is startling yet undoubtedly welcome. So this is what it's like when he's unrestrained, hot and animalistic, rutting fast and hard, pushing you into a further arch while his sharp teeth nip at the back of your neck and shoulders.

It's starting to get too much, the coil in your stomach growing too close too soon, and your moans are starting to border on lewd whines and whimpers as you sink your teeth into the flesh of your arms.

You're clutching the ground for dear damn life, arms attempting to pillow your face as your whole body rocks forward with each rough, almost ruthless thrust.

"I'm going to-" You gasp, your thighs trembling as you sob against the floor. "Oh, god, oh fuck, oh shit, I'm going to-"

You can feel him twitch inside of you, and you moan at a particularly hard thrust. Each rock of his hips knocks every breath, every thought out of you until your heart is pounding in rhythm with each increasingly rough, deep, animalistic thrust of his cock rutting between your legs.

"Wa- wait," you gasp, as another thought occurs to you. "Aonung, the others."

"What about them," he grunts, not slowing down for a second, hand absent-mindedly moving to your shoulder-blades to push you into an even deeper arch.

Between choked whines, you manage to say, "They're right over there. They're going to hear!"

"Guess you're just going to have to be more quiet," he says carelessly, no doubt knowing that there wasn't a fucking chance of that happening.

You just bury your face deeper into your arms, hoping that they'll be enough to hide the moans knocked out of you with each of his deep thrusts.

He has you pinned firmly beneath him, yet it feels snug and comforting despite the pain of his grip. It feels like he's fucking everything into you, even his scent, so each thrust is enveloping you in his warm, tropical scent.

Then finally with a loud cry that you tried so hard to stifle and kill, your entire body pulses as your orgasm blazes through you like fire as Aonung continues to fuck you through the quivers of your release.

You yelp as he speeds up now, brutal and animalistic as the last tenterhooks of his strained restraint snaps and he buries himself deep inside you.

You just give out, going slightly limp so he's holding you up as he comes, hair spilling over you as you just rest against the floor, breathing heavily in an attempt to steady yourself as you choke at the sensation of impossible fullness.

Then when he finally stops, he seems to return to himself, realising that you're just lax on the floor, only held up by his rough grip on your slightly bruised hips, flushed and slightly tear-streaked face hidden shamefully in your arms and curtained away by your long dark hair.

"Shit, are you okay?" Aonung asks, pulling out and lightly tilts your chin so he can see your face.

You just groan weakly and attempt to swat his hand away, a mortified little smile on your face as he sighs in relief and flops to the ground beside you.

"Feeling better?" you croak, wrinkling your nose at him.

Aonung exhales shakily with a small laugh. He turns to look at you, and there's a note of something in his eyes that you just don't understand- like he's trying to see if he would be able to get away with something.

Then he tentatively reaches out and tucks your hair away. When you don't protest or pull away, he lightly pulls you closer, so your head is resting between his shoulder and his neck, your arm draped tiredly across his chest and your body nestled cozily against his larger one.

You're tense. You've never done this, never cuddled, never allowed someone to be this fucking close. But then again, you've never fucked the same guy twice, and you've been in this arrangement with Aonung for weeks.

But this time was different, aggressive and desperate and hot and messy and overwhelming, and you're completely fucked out.

"Are you alright?" you ask Aonung quietly.

That's weird too, that you're asking Aonung about how he is. That you care how he is.

"What do you mean?" he asks gently, nuzzling closer into your neck. You try to ignore how comfortable it is having his lips resting warmly against your collarbone.

"Well," you say, with a bitter, shaky laugh, "it looked like you were a little... pent up."

 Aonung groans and buries his face deeper into your hair.

"Aonung," you say gently, turning so you can see him.

You are inches apart, nearly nose to nose as you rake your eyes over his face. He looks torn between mortified and as though he's trying to hide from you. You wonder if it's this frustrating for him when you hide like this.

"I just forgot about the arrangement," Aonung mumbles, not meeting your eyes. "I just- I..." Surprising yourself, you tentatively reach up to brush your fingertips against the soft teal skin of his flushed face. His eyes instantly flick to yours, and his lips part just enough for you to lightly touch them too. "I just... I didn't like seeing you with Neteyam."

"Oh," you says softly. You have no idea what to say to that- especially when its something that you always kind of knew, but never expected to be told. Especially when it never processes in your mind that you could be loved. "Neteyam's just a friend," you laugh lightly.

There's a slight crackle behind you like twigs snapping, but when you look up, there's nothing and no one there. You frown, but Aonung lightly guides your face back to his before you can think more about it.

You sit like that in silence for a little bit, but it surprises you how it's not awkward at all. It's comfortable and warm and quiet, pillowed against his muscular body with his head tucked gently beside yours, hands absentmindedly playing with your hair.

Usually you would never allow this, but you're frankly fucked out, and you doubt you'd be able to push him away even if you wanted to. So you just close your eyes and rest for a moment, until he speaks.

"So when do I get an ikran?" Aonung asks, shifting slightly so you're facing each other now, yet you're still close enough for him to hold you.

"Soon," you shrug. "You can ask Neteyam to-"

"What if I don't want Neteyam to take me," Aonung asks.

"Lo'ak or Kiri might be free," you shrug. "If you manage to pull them away from Tsireya or Rotxo."

"What if I don't want the Sullys?" he asks, eyes glittering with amusement and slight incredulous annoyance as though you were being stupid.

"Then who-" you start to say, a confused look on your face before Aonung cuts you off, rolling his eyes with a fond little grin, his hand gently snaking to tilt your face as he kisses you.

You have half a mind to snap at him, to remind him that kissing was a little too personal, too intimate for the agreement when you weren't actually fucking, to shout at him for cutting you off, before you realise you don't actually mind the intimacy of the kiss when you're nestled in his arms, his hands gently caressing your cheeks and holding you close, his heart beating warmly and comfortably against you. 

In fact, the thought of him pulling away seems worse than the actual closeness, tenderness and suggestiveness of the kiss, then suddenly he is, and you're frowning at the sudden, tiny, yet extremely unwelcome distance between his lips and yours.

"Can I kiss you," he asks, just a little late.

"Yes fine," you grumble impatiently, yet by his little, delighted smile, you know he took it for what it secretly meant, yeah you'd better kiss me skxawng.

"So you'll allow this?" he grins, inching closer. "It doesn't break the agreement?"

You have a strong temptation to smack that smug, delighted expression off his face, but you are just fucking exhausted, and his kisses are like coffee. But before he can lean back in and satiate you, there's stupidly familiar voices though the trees and you're panickingly staggering up to not get caught.

"Bro," Lo'ak says, looking you up and down before raising his weird hairy human eyebrows at Aonung. "Are you trying to mark her now?"

You flush deeply, only now noticing the little purple bruises his grip had roughly left, as well as the little nips and hickeys that now adorned your body. You feel even more aware of Aonung's marks when you look back up and meet Neteyam's gaze, his rich-golden eyes blazing bright as they trail over the bruises, hickeys and love bites before turning coldy on Aonung. 

Aonung returns Neteyam's golden gaze with his own icy blue one, and an unspoken challenge seems to be passed between the two boys. You expected Neteyam to react like the others, amused like Lo'ak or scandalised like Tsireya, but he remains cold and expressionless, not looking at you or returning your nervous smile. Instead of laughing off or denying Lo'ak's question, Aonung just smirks slightly and looks away, and Neteyam swallows hotly.

The walk back to the village is a strange one. There's some weird confusing tension between Neteyam and Aonung that you probably couldn't decipher in the best of times, let alone when you're so completely fucked dumb that you're putting all your best efforts into walking normally enough so the others don't know that you're whole body is turned to jelly.

Tsireya is laughing with Lo'ak at the front of the group, but Kiri and Rotxo seemed to have noticed your clumsy tiredness because Kiri links her arm with yours and gently leads you along and Rotxo distracts you with quiet, sweet conversation.

But you're hardly listening, because you can feel two gazes blazing straight into you from behind. Although no words are spoken between them, the weirdness between Aonung and Neteyam seems to radiate straight into you. 

Whatever, you'll figure it all out when you're back to normal, when you aren't so weak that you're susceptible to Aonung's tenderness and intimacy, when you aren't so fucked so dumb and stupid and reckless that you aren't wanting to kiss him again.

But there's no mistaking the intensity of the gazes on your back as you reenter the village. One blazing gold, the other icy blue.

In the next few days after that trip to the river, you're terrified. Terrified of what happened between you and Aonung.

Not of the sex, no that was doubtlessly the best you've ever had, but of what happened after. Of the cuddling and the kiss and the tenderness with which he cared for you and the fact that you let him be so tender and intimate.

So okay, maybe seeing your whole clan get murdered and destroyed by sky people at a young age could be traumatising, maybe even give you a few silly little intimacy issues, but your total aversion for intimate affection had always been uncomplicated.

No one could betray or hurt you if you never let anyone get close enough for you to care about them. No one could ever get hurt by you if they never cared for you in the first place. But Aonung has. Yes he's pussy-whipped, but he's liked you from the start and you knew that. No matter how hard you tried to discourage him or push him away, he's just as stubborn in liking you as you are in not liking him.

And now you don't know what you like. You think you know what it means that you trusted him to take care of you, that you let him get close in a way that wasn't just meaningless activity and was genuine care and intimacy. So you have to stay away from him.

Which is why for the past few days, you've only been in your kelku. You refuse to go out, knowing full well that no matter where you go, to the forest or around the village, Aonung will track you down and ask why you've been avoiding him, be all concerned and sweet and ARGH.

You groan and flop back down onto your woven bed. You're running out of things to do- stuck in your kelku. You've woven an obscene, unnecessary amount of jewellery, carved two new knives, beaded several new tops that you can only wear if you one day summon the courage to go outside and face the prospect to running into Aonung.

You're snarling with annoyance of being self-isolated in your kelku, hissing to yourself under your breath as you string together the beads of a new top when someone ducks into your kelku. Your body stiffens, but you quickly relax when you realise who it is.

"Hey Tey," you grin, as he smiles slightly back at you. "What are you doing here?"

"I haven't seen you in days," Neteyam says, frowning slightly at you. "I was getting worried- you seemed... off, that day by the river."

"I was tired," you say, brows furrowing at your friend. Usually Neteyam would be sitting with you talking about a guy, torn between slight protectiveness over you and slight amusement at your scornful attitude to intimacy. But now he's frowning, worried about you. "Aonung tired me out."

You expect him to grin, to joke, to maybe even make fun of you, but Neteyam isn't Lo'ak. Your close friendship with each of the Sullys is different, but you always considered yourself closest to the eldest, training with Neteyam, bonding over the struggles you both went to to prove yourselves.

Since you sought refuge with the Omotikaya at a young age, you and Neteyam had been the closest of friends. As you got older, he was busier with his various duties as not only a warrior, but the future Olo'eyktan of the clan. The two of you never really discussed it, but in the last few years, when you both started having 'experiences' with others, you grew apart slightly.

It's not like your relationship had ever been romantic, but there were certain elements of intimacy and jealousy you had always just assumed to be the closeness of your friendship. But now Aonung pointed it out, was even jealous of Neteyam himself, you have to wonder if there ever was more between you and the prince of the Omotikaya.

Then the Sully's had left for a bit to the reef, and when Neteyam came back, you had both grown. Even without any spoken elements of romance between the two of you, the obvious fact that both of you had had several if not many sexual and romantic experiences with others just seemed strange for a friendship forged in childhood.

You lower your beading and look up at him to find those golden eyes are fixed straight in your own, bright in the afternoon light filtering into your kelku from the gap in the weaving he left slightly ajar, his lips slightly parted as he tries to decide what to say. Fuck. No. Okay so maybe Aonung is getting in your head. Maybe Aonung is opening your eyes, because now Neteyam just looks... different.

Since the reef, Neteyam has gotten more muscular, more than the typical Omotikaya yet without the broad physique of Aonung. It's probably all the swimming or the diet of tropical fruits and fish or something, you suppose, but why did you never notice how he's just so... attractive, with his blazing golden eyes and smooth handsome features.

Sure, all you'd heard from other girls for years was how Neteyam was so handsome and hot and strong and a good lover, but that had all just been silliness because Neteyam was your friend nothing more, to either of you.

"Can I help you with something?" you ask, swallowing heavily, horribly aware that you had just spaced out and stared blankly at him for way too long.

"Are you okay?" he asks, frowning and moving closer to you, setting down a pile of stuff so he can get a better look at you. "You're acting weird."

"Am I?" you ask nervously, swallowing hard and blinking way too much. 

"Yes," Neteyam says slowly, crouching beside you and frowning deeper. "You've been in your kelku for days, you haven't seen anyone, talked to anyone, and everyone was starting to get worried. I was getting worried about you Rey."

His nickname for you, shortened from Reypaytun and meaning blood red, was one of the first things you ever shared with him as your first friend among the Omotikaya. It was a fond name he chose given the blood red war paint favoured by the Tayrangi that you never got the chance to wear, and ever since he called you Rey, the little warrior, the last Tayrangi.

He seems to notice the way you pause at the nickname Rey as a flood of memories from your childhood washes over you, and he places a comforting hand on your leg, saying, "It's me. You can tell me if something's going on. Is it Aonung?"

The sound of Aonung's name snaps you back. The one you've been having all these strange feelings for, the one that mentioned Neteyam having feelings for you. You swallow hotly again, and Neteyam frowns. Again.

"Yes," you say quietly. Instantly, he coldens, scowling and hissing protectively.

"Did he hurt you? You looked a little bruised but I didn't say anything because I thought maybe you-"

"No there's nothing wrong like that," you say quickly. "Aonung didn't hurt me, not at all. He's been... well I've been... um..."

Neteyam sighs, his ears drooping slightly as understanding dawns on his face, his hand sliding off your leg and dropping towards the ground. The absense of his touch feels like a sign, like your friend is slipping away just as his hand had. That the two of you are growing even further apart than ever.

"I know Rey," he says gently. "I mean, it was pretty fucking obvious from the start that he liked you. I tried to tell him that it wouldn't end well, that you never let anyone get close, but you proved me wrong like usual."

"What do you mean?" you ask quietly, your tail sweeping behind you. You miss your friend.

"For years I thought we were the only ones you'd let love you," he says, now looking slightly wistful. "I never thought it would be Aonung of all people that managed to get your heart, not when literally every guy ever is head over heels for you."

"You aren't," you point out, though even to yourself, your voice sounds unsure. "Right?" 

Neteyam doesn't reply, just smiling wistfully and sighing, his strong jaw clenching. You try to think of something to say, when the rest of his words clink into place in your brain, and you sit up quickly.

"What do you mean get my heart?" you ask sharply. "He hasn't- not-"

"Rey please," Neteyam says, not looking at you. "You literally let him cuddle you, take care of you, play with your hair. It goes beyond banter and pointless sex and you know it. You know it means more to him, and you know that it means more to you too."

You make to shake your head, but then you realise your body isn't moving, as though it refuses to say that Aonung means nothing. Fuck. 

"Fuck."

Neteyam laughs humourlessly as you sit up, face twisted in distress as the stupid damn truth of your friend's words sink in and you frown at him. Neteyam isn't looking at you, hiding his face from you, and your harboured suspicion that he's secretly laughing at you is immediately stomped out when you notice.

His ears are drooped all the way down, and his hands are lightly fiddling with his necklace. It's a small habit he only fell into when he was agitated or upset- you often found him fiddling with the beading of the traditional warrior necklace when he found expectations too much, when he got in trouble with his father, when he felt he wasn't enough.

"What's wrong Tey," you ask, lightly reaching out to touch your friend's head in a friendly pat. But it feels different now that you're both all grown up and grown apart- he feels too big, not like when you were inseparable children. 

Neteyam looks up, his face suddenly so large in your hand- no longer the adorably delighted childish face it once had been, now all chiselled and handsome and suddenly twisted with almost concealed, melancholy bitterness as he sighs and pulls away from you. It means something, that he pulled away.

"It's just weird," Neteyam says, with a poor attempt at a smile. "I always felt proud knowing that you let me close to you. That I could help you and protect you, that we would be so close forever. Then shit happened and I had to leave and we just grew apart slightly I guess. I just never thought that when we came back, Aonung would be the one to get you."

He swallows and looks away, obviously having said more than he meant to. You are about to reach out to your friend before remembering him pull away, his hand slipping away, his gaze somehow refusing to reach your own. But you're closer to understanding now more than ever, and being the ridiculously stubborn person you are, you can't just let it go now.

"What are you trying to say Tey?" you ask, frowning at him. "Aonung said... he said..."

"What?" Neteyam asks, now completely abandoning the pretence that he isn't annoyed and letting the confusing, uncalled for bitterness seep into his words. "What did your Aonung say about me?"

"That you..." you start to say, throat feeling dry under his suddenly blazing golden gaze. "He thought there was something going on between us."

With that, the last remaining light in Neteyam's face just snuffs itself out, and you feel your heart sink desperately. His tail stops flicking agitatedly behind him, thudding listless and dead on the floor behind him, his gaze dropping away somewhat as the fire in those blazing eyes dies, as though you put it out.

"I mean," you hastily say, trying to get him back to normal. It makes your heart ache in a terrible, painful sort of way to see Neteyam look so doleful and betrayed, makes your whole body shiver at the thought that you made the prince of the clan look so broken. "He thought you maybe liked me. But I told him- you only see me as a friend and I-"

"It's fine Rey," he says quietly, not meeting your gaze. "I get it."

"No!" you practically cry. "I don't even know what I'm trying to say- please stop! You don't need to get anything, Aonung was just being stupid and I don't even know what's going on."

"He wasn't stupid," Neteyam says quietly.

"What?"

"He wasn't stupid," Neteyam snaps, standing to leave. "He was right."

"About what?" you breathe, heart hammering uncomfortably in your chest. You know exactly what Neteyam is going to say next- but it just can't be true.

"That I liked you. Like you," he says angrily, taking a deep breath before rushing his next words. "But I know that you see me as a friend, and that you have your whole fucked up thing with Aonung going on."

You exhale shakily, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment and trying to think of what to say. When you open them again, Neteyam's blazing eyes are filled with fiery possessiveness again. It's everything you've always marked as friendship that is so clear in his gaze now, and you swallow heavily when he steps closer.

"But I know you Rey," he whispers, suddenly towering over you as he steps closer. "And I could be better than Aonung."

At that, you freeze. This is Neteyam, your friend Neteyam, the most desired man in the clan, the prince of the Omotikaya standing over you, blinking down at you with his large golden eyes and telling you he's better than the other boy you fuck, who's also his friend. What. The. Fuck. 

"What are you saying?" you whisper, hating how squeaky your voice sounds.

"Let me prove myself," Neteyam shrugs, now just a foot away.

You mouth wordlessly. On one hand, all you've heard for years is Neteyam's incredible talent with women, his amazing looks and bravery and size working wonders for every girl in the clan, but then again, Aonung was also completely and utterly satisfying and hot and muscular in himself. You aren't tied down though. Just because you had been having a good time with Aonung didn't mean you couldn't with anyone else.

But your friendship might not last with Neteyam if you took this step. Yet then again, it's already changed, even more so now he's told you he likes you, absolutely now he's offering what he's offering.

It seems a little as though he's stepping on Aonung's toes- along the same lines of impressing you, proving himself yadayadayada, but as you meet Neteyam's gaze, you can't seem to find a problem with anything.

He's staring down at you, inches away from your lips yet still a foot taller, blazing golden eyes staring straight into your own.

fuck.

#aonung x reader #aonung x female reader #aonung fic #avatar smut #aonung fanfiction #avatar fanfiction #avatar #avatar fandom #avatar the way of water #aonung #neteyam #neteyam smut #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #avatar neteyam #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x reader x aonung #threesome?

[the-avengers-ate-my-tongue]

Mrs. Fell (Smut)

Summary: you've been living with Hannibal in Florence under the identity of Mrs. Fell. Although you missed Will dearly, the energy between the psychiatrist and you begin to unfold in different — and intriguing — paths.

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x reader, Will Graham x reader (mentioned)

Warnings: Mentions of blood, violence and, obviously, sex. 

English is not my first language, if you see any mistake, let me know!

Word Count: 2280

You jolted upwards on your bed, sweat soaking the silk linens and the black nightgown you wore.

Another nightmare. They were becoming quite common these days. 

You sighed, allowing your body to lie back down, the mattress springs squeaking annoyingly. With unnecessary roughness, you covered your mouth with your hand, trying to suppress your hopeless cries so they wouldn't wake Hannibal up. Even though he was in another room, the walls had ears. You knew he would hear you somehow. He always did. 

You took a deep breath, trying to calm down. God, how you missed Will. His touch and soft voice would be exactly what you needed to soothe you, his words of assurance guaranteeing you everything was alright and nothing would harm you, for he wouldn't allow it. 

But things ended up slipping out of his control, didn't they? You weren't with him anymore, under his golden protection. You were with Hannibal Lecter in a fancy house in Florence, Italy. Being held hostage, as much as he would disagree. Kept as a pet, an amusement. A consolation prize. Spoils of war. 

Without your control, your mind spiralled to the night Hannibal took you as advantage in his escape, disembowelling Will cowardly and threatening to kill him if you wouldn't come with him. His last fraction of torture, you remember thinking to yourself while you both rode the motorcycle under those heavy drops of rain that washed all your tears away.

You also remembered how kindly he wiped your tears without saying a word, for he knew nothing he would say would be enough. You were in that position because of him, after all. You had begged him to let you stay, to talk to Will, but he wouldn't have none of it. The flight to Italy was bittersweet, since you had never flown before, the sky being ignorantly astonishing to your pain. 

You still felt the ghost of Will's bloodied kiss before you left him. His breathless sobs still echoed in your ears, clenching your heart painfully. You never were religious, but you remember praying he would survive the wound, so you could be reunited again and forget all about the goddamn FBI, Jack Crawford and Hannibal Lecter. 

You both could live in a small cottage by the sea, fish, swim and sail all day long, raise a few babies of your own. Little boys and girls with dark hair and y/e/c eyes running around the beach, laughing joyfully with nothing to worry about. 

That reality seemed distant, however, at least at the moment. You would linger in the shadows of Lydia Fell, your new identity, until it was safe enough to come to light again.

Time travelled fast while you pretended to be the wife of the renowned Dr. Fell. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and you could feel the energy between you and Hannibal shift mysteriously. It was surprisingly easy to be Mrs. Fell, attending to parties, little soirees vanity allowed Hannibal to arrange. He would pamper you with pretty dresses, fancy food and barbiturates, making days easier to endure, afternoons fun and evenings interesting, filled with culture and knowledge you never got tired of soaking like a sponge. Whenever the memory of Will became too unbearable, you would pop a pill and drink a glass of Bâtard-Montrachet, dancing to old elegant tunes; your head feeling hazy and heavy until you finally gave up and went to bed. 

His bed, after a while. It was more convenient to pretend integrally to be Mrs. Fell. It wasn't so bad, after all, you hated sleeping all alone. Hannibal's presence made you feel safer, and he was ever most respectful towards you. It didn't take long for you to realize the longing stare to his hands when he cooked, or the way his back flexed when he sliced something thick. Started as innocent glances; until you finally acknowledged the lust rising at the bottom of your abdomen with the silliest of things, like when he played the piano, or talked about the paintings and sculptures of the house you were both staying in. 

You couldn't deny how appealing the man was, with his charms, intelligence and sophistication. How easy it was for him to entangle Will and you into his web of lies and sadistic games. You were a mere fly, trapped, waiting — and sometimes even longing — to be devoured.

"Hair up or down?" You inquired with a sly smile, grabbing a fist of your hair and pulling it up while you looked at the mirror, watching Hannibal fix his cufflinks. He directed his attention to you and your exposed neck, and you noticed how his eyes darkened, making your insides twist. 

In silence, he walked towards you, lowering the straps of your red dress a little bit to expose your shoulders, pulling out of his pocket a beautiful golden necklace with rubies the size of berries. You choked a gasp, covering your mouth while he tied the astonishing piece around your neck, allowing his fingers to gently caress the skin.

"Up. It will bring out your eyes even more with the necklace. Allow me." He took a few bobby pins and started to work on your hair with surprising skill, letting a few strands loose to shape your face perfectly. 

"Is there anything you don't know how to do?" You teased, chuckling slightly while you stared at yourself in the mirror. You looked beautiful, and at the same time an entire different person. 

"Yes." His eyes lingered on you with a subtle glow that didn't last long. "You're wearing the perfume I gave you."

"I am."

"It suits you."

"In what way, Hannibal?" You turned to face him with a capricious move, eying him from below. 

"It's elegant and discreet, yes. However, it possesses a hidden flame that only the most skilled men are able to capture."

"And you're one of those men, I suppose."

"Would you say so, Y/n?" 

You hesitated, chewing your lip with anticipation. 

"That was very psychiatrist of you, Dr. Lecter. Directing the thought to me."

"Old habits never die, I suppose. You are avoiding the question, Y/n." He stepped closer, lifting your chin with his index, caressing it with his thumb. "Would you say so?"

You licked your lips and he followed the movement with his eyes.

"Hannibal… I'm Will's. My heart will always belong to him." You tried to push away his hand but he held your chin harder, keeping you in place.

"I've given you every single opportunity to flee over the past few months, Y/n. And yet, you remain here with me. You should face the inevitable" he knelt in front of you, his hands traveling through your thighs, lifting your dress. "You enjoy being Mrs. Lecter more than you would like to acknowledge."

You sighed, allowing your head to drop back, longing to be touched. 

"Mrs. Fell." You corrected, eyes closed. "I am Mrs. Fell."

He lifted one of your legs, placing it over his shoulder while lifting your dress up, a guttural moan escaping his throat once he realized you were bare under it. The soft touch of his tongue in your core was enough to drive you mad, grabbing his locks while he delighted himself with your taste. You whimpered, moaning his name under your breath, biting your lip so hard you felt your front teeth penetrate the flesh, the copper taste of blood invading your tongue. 

Hannibal could smell it, lifting his eyes quickly like a predator, rising only to lick the small trickle that stained your chin. You were surprised with how much that aroused you; he hesitated, staring at your mouth with hungry eyes, and you wondered if he was asking for permission. You granted it with pulling him closer, kissing him with passion, tasting more parts of yourself on his tongue that you could fathom. He held you by your ass, lifting you up with ease while you wrapped your legs around his hips without breaking the kiss. You felt the soft touch of the mattress against your back and the silk linens, focusing on how good Hannibal's hands felt as they explored your body, rough and experienced touches that certainly would leave a few bruises tomorrow. 

He got slightly impatient, then, ripping your dress and exposing your breasts, your nipples hard with the stimulation. You gasped with the abrupt move, raising your arms to cover yourself instinctively, but he held your hands against the mattress with no avail. 

"I liked that dress!" You protested, trying to hide how nervous you were, the feeling of doing something wrong spreading adrenaline over your entire being. 

"Perhaps I should buy you another one, then" Hannibal said while starting to undress, throwing his vests on the ground. "I have the feeling you were never touched the way you truly desire, Y/n."

That single line caused you to paralyze like a doe on headlights, your wide eyes staring at him with disbelief. He was right; you hadn't been with many men in your life, and the longest relationship you had was with Will. He was never too much interested in sex, though, and on the times you actually did it, he touched you like one would handle a fine china. With care and tenderness, as if he feared to break you. It wasn't bad at all, he made love to you every single time, always so intense and intimate that you felt like you would break in tears sometimes. 

Hannibal was right. You were never fucked properly because you never had been with a man who cared about your true desires. Moreover, it wasn't Will's fault that you never showed him your dark inclinations, he had a twisted view of perfection when it came to you. The only light in his life, the only unchangeable good. Being held in that place was exhausting and you had never realized how full of it you were until Hannibal's statement. 

"Tell me what you want, Y/n." He commanded. You blinked away images of Will to the bottom of your conscience, embracing your desire and acting on it.

"I want you inside me," you pleaded, using your elbows to support you while you stared at his remarkable body. "Take me, Hannibal."

A convinced smirk illustrated his lips, his pupils so dilated his eyes were completely black. He crawled over you, nibbling on your neck and earlobe while his hips nested on yours, fitting in perfectly as if you both were built to the purpose by gods. He entered you without a warning, causing you to sink your nails into the skin of his back. He sighed, the feeling of your walls clenching to accommodate him being too good to be true. You spread your legs, allowing him to reach deeper, a state of bliss pouring over you. It was wrong, but it felt so right. You moved your hips in perfect synchrony, one of his hands grabbing your neck, keeping you in place without actually hurting. He used his thumb to caress your bottom lip and you took the opportunity to suck on his finger, the salty taste tickling the tip of your tongue. 

That caused him to fasten his movements without care, a light ache joining your pleasure. The wet sound of his thrusts, your moans and his groans echoed through the bedroom like an unholy symphony, the scent of sex and sweat starting to fill the air. The tip of his cock touched a critical point inside you repeatedly, and you could feel the tension start to build up at the bottom of your abdomen, arching your back while he grabbed your hair, pulling your head to the side to sink his teeth into the flesh of your shoulder, near your collarbone. That sent sparks along your spine, and you sucked the air through your teeth, your nails descending the skin of his back and drawing blood. 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head while you felt pleasure wash over you, release becoming almost unbearable. It was as if Hannibal knew all your buttons, where to touch you, exactly what to do to bring you to the edge of the abyss. And you jumped without hesitation, his breath fastening till a moan escaped his lips and he filled you with his cum, his body trembling in silent ecstasy. 

He didn't leave you right away, enjoying the warm and wet feeling of your cunt for a few more moments before he finally pulled out, trying to stabilize his breathing. You stared at the ceiling with glassy eyes and ajar lips, feeling his cum dripping out of you. Without a word, Hannibal picked you up in his arms with a surprising tenderness, taking you to the bathroom and preparing a hot bath. 

Ah, Will. Forgive me. What have I done? Was the thought that echoed in your mind repeatedly, realization towering over you with an iced shadow. You tried to catch a glimpse of the sun under months of a lonely dark night, but ended up being severely burned. As Icarus flew too close and had his wings melted, you fell to your doom, beyond salvation, beyond forgiveness. You were stained for life; Will would never look at you the same way. 

"Y/n." Hannibal stared at you with his chocolate irises, proceeding to wash your hair, removing the bobby pins himself had placed over your locks earlier. You felt weirdly numb, dissociative, like your body wasn't your own anymore. 

"Lydia" you corrected in a tired whisper, a demented little smile playing in your lips. "My name is Lydia Fell."

#hannibal #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter x you #nbc hannibal #hannibal imagine #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal lecter imagine #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter fanfiction #will graham x reader #will graham #mads mikkelsen #hannibal headcanon #hannibal fanfic #hannibal lecter headcanon

[maraudersmyloves]

Hi, I love your writing and I was wondering if you could maybe write about bada and reader being secretly married and reader is apart of Bebe and just how they would be on swf2? Maybe even if reader has a small injury while preparing for the K-pop mission?

Thank you in advance if you choose to write this 🩵

thank you for this lovely request i hope you like it<33

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆｡ﾟ. ───

pairing: Bada Lee x Reader

Warnings: my Bad English, twisted foot, unedited, a bit angsty

Word count: ca. 900

Disclaimer: Everything on this Blog is fiction!!!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆｡ﾟ. ───

PS: I changed some stuff: In this, you don't get to choose the song you have to freestyle too.

Being on Street Woman Fighter has proven to be more difficult than you thought and not for the reason you expected.

You were nervous about battling for the first time but Bada helped you train to freestylie a bit. And kissed you a lot trying to help you train to freestyle, but still, it helped you calm down.

Until now.

Bada is massaging your shoulders and shaking you around, “you’ve got this. You’re the most talented person here.” She gives you an encouraging smile, her eyes flicker down to your lips for just a second. You turn away quickly to make sure you don’t lean in to kiss her.

It feels unnatural to deny her a kiss in a non-joking manner. 

You’re facing Downy when Love Shot by Exo starts playing, it’s a fairly easy and slow song the problem is going to be changing up your moves enough and that on the spot. 

As soon as you start dancing you stop thinking, you’re just feeling.

When the music stops you have no idea if you did well the only thing you hear is Bada screaming and cheering making you smile incredibly hard.

All three judges vote for you.

Obviously battling isn’t what you should’ve been worrying about.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆｡ﾟ. ───

The problem is how little one-on-one time you get with Bada. On the breaks, the most you get is a quick kiss in the bathroom. No long talking or cuddling, mostly you’re not talking at all.

Before going on you two agreed to keep contact to a minimum since recently more people started believing you guys are more than just “Group Members and Roommates.” You are. Obviously. But they can’t know you two are happily married. No one can. 

When you get home you’re too tired and grumpy to even talk, just falling into bed while Bada is still thriving on the adrenaline, walking around and dancing at night. That however causes her to be grumpy in the morning after not getting enough sleep. The only time you are both feeling great cameras are on you. It’s truly tiring.

But you’re pushing through and it can be so much fun, hanging out with your friends all day every day is a good distraction but it can’t soothe the ache in your heart every time you have to deny yourself simple, domestic, affection with your wife.

You’re all tense as Bada gets more annoyed the more the group fucks up. Usually, you would easily go up to her and calm her down but you’re unsure of how much you can do on camera. You make a fist to stop yourself from reaching out every time she gets that one annoyed look in her eye. She does it again and you decide to speak up. “Bada?”

She only replied with a hum. You sigh stepping closer, “Maybe we should take a break after the next one, yeah?” Bada doesn’t look at you as she shakes her head slightly and whispers “Practice makes perfect,” before turning around smiling. She claps once. “Okay guys, let’s try this again!”

You smile back weakly and get into your position. Everything is going surprisingly well, you have some mistakes but all in all, it goes well.

Tatter has to do the stunt now, she trips up at the landing and bumps into you causing you to twist your foot weirdly when you’re catching yourself. You let out a cry at the sting of pain shooting through your foot. You hear gasps around you. Someone is wrapping their Arms around you to help you stand. You put your foot down out of reflex and wince.

Your eyes are closed and you yelp as you get picked up bridal style. You open your eyes to look at Bada who quickly goes to the couch in the back of the room and lays you down. She kneels next to you and gently takes your face in her hands, seemingly looking for injuries.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt a lot? Y/N?” She looks so worried, her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth turned down. You chuckle, “I'm fine Bada, don’t worry.” She sighs, letting her arms fall, and laying her head on your stomach. “No you’re not, I overworked everyone and ended up hurting you.”

You sit up and brush through Bada’s hair. “You didn’t hurt anybody, I slipped. It happens. It barely hurts anymore!”

Bada looks up, her chin still lying on your stomach, smiling slightly, her eyes a bit watery, “promise?”

You nod smiling back.

Bada stands up and turns to the group “How about we stop for today.”

The others exhale and some slightly laugh at their whipped leader. As Lusher and Tatter walk out of the room and pass Bada they coo at her and in the back Minah pretends to faint into Sowoen's arms, “Oh Y/N I would do anything for you!”

You giggle and Bada playfully glares at you, it’s so comfortable that all the stress of the past weeks flows right out of you. You stand up with very little pain and tug at Bada’s arm “Let’s get home.” She pulls you against her and kisses the top of your head, giggling without real reason.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆｡ﾟ. ───

#fluff #headcanon #bada lee #bada lee x y/n #bada lee x reader #dancer x reader #fanfic #request #writing #angst with a happy ending

[neoyongz]

cigarette 🚬 | alex turner x reader. (fem) / smut

from the first time you saw alex smoking, you knew exactly what you wanted him to do to with that cigarette.

warnings: soft dom alex, bdsm (burning kink), praise kink, fluff ending?

word count: 3.6k

disclaimer: english is not my first language so, in advantage, i apologize for grammar mistakes.

it's been a while since you saw him for the last time. almost a month, where u couldn't care less about him. last time you two found yourselves in a bed was... rough, but not in a sexy way. he was kinda high and wanted some quick sex, so he called you, knowing you would accept it.

it wasn't like you were his casual groupie, you two were friends but he was so busy that he couldn't even remember to call you or even send a message. you expected something like that, obviously, with such a busy and rushed life he had.

you heard some footsteps, which you easily recalled on who was with you. none other than him.

"you're late. it's 23.50pm"

"i know... the traffic was wild. sorry"

"never asked for an excuse, alexander"

he laughed and lit a cigarette he took from his pocket, not even looking at the "no smoking" sign. he went to the balcony and left his right hand on the railing.

"never asked you to clap back anyway" a cloud of smoke came out of his lips.

"yeah... i don't care. why did you call me?"

"'cause i wanted? i don't have a specific reason today. just wanted to see ya" he smiled as he heard your steps right behind his back. your arms found their way around his waist as you left your head fall to his right shoulder.

"that's what you always say..." you laughed.

"is that bad?"

"nah" you caressed his tummy as he let go another cloud of smoke.

"you like?" he offered you his cig.

you accepted easily. you never really liked to smoke regularly but if it was for alex, you'd do it everyday.

the smoke left your red painted lips making sure it didn't hit alex's hair.

you took his cigarette, making him turn around to look at him right in the eyes. his big brown eyes got you crazy, you die everytime he looks at you, questioning if you really deserved to be looked at by him.

"what are you doing?"

"trying to get your attention. is the view more interesting than me?"

"it isn't... i just didn't want to blow smoke on your face" he joked, taking a little strand of hair off of your face.

"that's... considerate" you stole a kiss from him, making the both of you smile. the taste of tobacco in your mouth never felt tastier, since it was from alex's lips.

another kiss came, and then another, until he took your chin and kissed you the right way. the way he knew you liked.

he tried getting his tounge on your mouth during the kiss to make it a bit some savage, first doing it slowly and then going all in. his hands went to your waist, which he loved.

suddenly, you felt the need to separate to search for some fresh air.

"do you remember what i told you the last time?"

"uhm... no?"

"of course you do" you laughed as you lifted the cigarette to your lips.

"oh... the cig thing" he smiled in a way only you could understand.

staying in the same position, he made you walk backwards until you felt the bed right behind you, and you sat there.

"are you sure, babe?" he asked politely. he was rough on sex but he always took care of you.

you smiled, and he took that as a "yes". you gave him the cigarette and closed your eyes, as you felt excited to finally meet your fantasy.

you always wanted him to do something "edgy" on you. some people may see it as crazy but, the thought of him leaving as much marks as he wanted from burning your precious skin with his cigarette was stablished on your mind since you first fucked him.

it was something you knew would hurt, and that was it's charm. it was risky, and the adrenaline of feeling that extreame heat from the cigarette in any part of your body, at any moment got you excited.

this fantasy started when you first ever saw him smoke. nothing surprising, but it was sexy for some reason. very sexy. obviously, you were afraid of telling him about your fantasy, not everyone likes hard kinks so you were happy that, not only he agreed to do it, but he also liked it.

you felt butterflies on your stomach as he started kissing your neck very, very slowly. so slowly it could kill you. he wanted you to melt into his kisses, to relax and make sure everything was going to be alright. and when you less expected it, he licked the other side of your neck, knowing damn well how much you liked being kissed and licked there. and just as he wanted, you slowly started melting into his lips, feeling his left arm go behind your back.

your eyes stayed closed and a smile started showing up on your lips, as you patiently waited for a kiss.

well, that never came. not yet.

another kiss was sent to your neck, but now with a burning feeling in your thigh; you smiled and whimpered, feeling finally satisfied with your fantasy. but you wanted more, so you asked for it.

your hands went to his chest, softly caressing it while unbuttoning his white shirt.

you stopped suddenly when you felt another burning spot on your knee, but this time it hurt more. you jumped a little by surprise and alex laughed.

"you weren't expecting that one, angel?"

he knew how much you liked to be called angel. as if he was the devil himself trying to crush your angelic inocence with his burning kisses.

the smile on your face made him know you liked it, so he countinued with a third shot. this time, right at where your shirt would allow him to see your chest.

his left index finger traced from your neck to your tits, right before taking your shirt off.

"keep your eyes closed" he threw the shirt god knows where and kissed you, taking his free hand to your waist and getting you to lay on your back in the bed.

the kiss was needy, full of heat from both bodies. he approached the cigarette to your neck and left a little burn mark there, rapidly taking it to your collarbones and leaving another one there. your soft moans were music to his ears, motivating him to keep doing his job. you would've never imagined he'd like doing these kind of things.

you whimpered his name softly when he burned your neck again, making him feel a fast electric shock running down to his dick. you knew he liked it because, unconsciously, he rubbed his pelvis into yours. it was something he would always do. not really trying to get youself into dominance, but watchin

still keeping your mouth busy, separated to let you get a breath of air and then kept going, making his right hand travel to your hips as he left there one of the last burning spots for now.

he lifted the cigarette to his lips and a had a puff from it, blowing the smoke on your neck and leaving a little burn mark right there. he left the cigarette on the ashtray and focused on taking your bra off, but not the regular way. he knew it would be too predictable for you.

he bit the lace and went south to reveal one of your breasts, and as it didn't feel like he was doing it with his hand, you opened your eyes, delighting yourself with the view of him biting your bra and taking it off with a promiscous smile. you couldn't have a better view.

"i don't recall asking you to open your eyes"

"shut up, turner" you laughed and placed your hand on his chin to lift him up. "i never asked you to take my clothes off either"

you both smiled and kissed, right before pushing him to the bed to sit on his lap. your hands went to his chest, travelling south all the way to his belt, playing with it trying to tease him. just by touching, you could sense that the pants became anoying for him and you wouldn't please him by taking them off.

the kiss became more desperate as his need for being touched started growing, whispering "take it off" on your lips. you loved seeing how desperate he was. he needed you.

"and what if i don't?" you separated only a few centimeters from his puffy lips to catch some air.

"aw, don't start now"

he moaned when you started softly massaging his bulge before unzipping the pant and taking the belt off. you sneaked your hand into his underwear and reached his cock, already full hard, thinking about what should your next move be.

"close your eyes" you whispered.

he obeyed you and did it. you took the cigarette and went down to his crotch, taking his dick and as you gave it the first lick, you pressed the cigarette on his thigh, making him gasp by surprise. his eyes were widely opened; he grabbed your hair and lifted an eyebrow.

"you're not the dominant one here" he slowly pressed your face into his dick, making you take it in your mouth before you even thought about doing so.

half enjoying it and half scared he didn't like it, you started licking his dick from the bottom to the top, sucking the tip and giving some kisses there. you took the first half in your mouth and jerked off the rest to give you some time for preparing before taking it all.

some minutes passed while you sucked his dick slowly, making him even more desperate: he was leaking pre-cum all over, and when he didn't expect it, you took his whole cock in your mouth, staying there for some seconds just to hear his moans. he thighted his grip on your hair and closed his eyes, moving his hips slowly to fuck your mouth.

after opening his eyes, he moved his sight down to see how he fucked your mouth, your eyes closed and some drawned moans and whimpers coming out of your puffy red lips. you didn't want to move, you wanted him to guide you into pleasure as his warm and hard cock filled your bucal cavity with his now faster movements. suddenly, you tapped his arm so you could catch some air, it wasn't like his dick was something easy to take.

"you ok?" he asked. it wasn't like he didn't care about you either.

"mhm" you smiled and gave his cock another lick, stealing a little moan from him. "al, please"

he knew exactly what you meant by that. he got his torso up and layed on the head of bed, making you sit on his lap. his left hand travelled to your waist as his right one went down to pull out your pants and underwear, all in one try. he came back to you by putting his index finger in the middle of your lips searching for your entrance. a minute after he softly massaged it enough to get you wet again, he pushed two fingers inside making sure it didn't hurt by looking closely at your facial expression, which showed nothing else than pleasure.

your moans filled the room, even if you were trying to drown them by pushing your face to his neck as he moved his fingers inside of you stroking your walls gently.

when he was sure that it wasn't going to hurt, he pushed even further trying to find your g-spot, which he knew he had found by your noisy and desperate whimpers. you approached his ear and gave some kisses on his lobe, moaning his name when he touched your spot again.

it felt like heaven, being touched by such a man. and he did it well too.

"alex... fuck, please" you begged him again, your need to ride him was growing nonstop.

"wait a little more, princess, please. otherwise it'll hurt" he kissed your cheek as he introduced a third finger, curling them to strech your walls a little more.

"but... al" you looked at him with big doe eyes, almost as if you were screaming please with your eyes.

"no, you have to wait. i don't want to hurt you, babe" he kissed you while moving his fingers slowly, and getting the palm of his hand to massage your clit. that made you feel on fucking paradise.

you reflected your desperation onto the kiss, playing with his tounge and putting your hands on his chest searching for his nipples, gently caressing them as he rubbed your clit slowly. even if he was kissing you, you couldn't stop your moans and whimpers, letting them go in his mouth.

he tried to reach your spot again by pushing your fingers further, and so he did. you scratched his chest with your nails as you let some gasps scape from your lips. alex noticed your reaction and separated himself from to kiss.

"did it hurt, babe?" he slowered the pace of his finger movements to let you catch your breath.

"no, it's just... fuck" you layed on his chest while hugging his neck. "i'm so close, please, just do it now, don't worry about the condom”

"your wishes are my orders, princess"

after saying that, you felt a little embarrased, how much did you wanted to get fucked to not want him to waste time in putting the condom? actually, he liked it. he liked how needy you were.

he took his fingers out gently, leaving you feeling helpless at your need to be fucked. you wanted him really bad, you simply couldn't wait to be filled by him.

he grabbed the lube bottle and spread some on his dick, massaging it up and down to get prepared. he aligned it to your entrance and slowly let it slip inside of you, stealing some whimpers from you.

"al, please" you cried a little, hugging him. he caressed your hair and gave you a kiss on the forehead as he felt fully inside of you.

"calm down cutie, it's okay, i'm here" alex loved to see you helpless and fully devoted to him as if your life depended on it. "does it feel good?"

"yeah, yeah" you smiled and gave him a kiss.

"make me proud now" he let his hands fall to your waist to grab it and start moving you up and down effortlesly.

you always obey alex and today wasn't the exception. you started doing little jumps, feeling full in all senses and enjoying being completely devoted to him. you wanted to be his, only his and no one else. not because of how good he fucked, but because of him as a whole. and if he wanted you to make him proud, you would do it.

you sped up the pace of your jumps and you tried to hide your face on his neck, but he stopped you from doing it. alex grabbed your chin and made you look up at him.

"don't hide, princess. let me see you enjoy it" he kissed you and thightened his grip when you closed your eyes.

"open. i wanna see those big eyes" alex loved when you looked at him with doe eyes, begging him to fuck you.

it made you embarrased when you noticed that you were already looking at him like that even if you didn't wanted to. you kept moving, now faster than before, switching from jumping to rubbing your clit on his pelvis by going back and forth.

obviously you're not the only one enjoying this, alex was clearly enjoying every second of it too. he loved to make you feel good, to fill you up and being the only thought on your mind. he'll never forget the time he found you touching yourself while blatantly moaning his name out loud. god only knows how good he fucked you that night.

but today he was being soft, he wanted to take care of you. you two fucked roughly too many times to do it again, and none of you felt like doing it either. you two wanted to feel every inch of each other, every breath, every kiss, every touch, everything. you wanted to feel him and he wanted to feel you. he loved feeling you. he loved touching you. you were his muse.

"if you only ever saw how pretty you look" he smiled and grabbed your waist strongly enough to stop your jumps. "stay just like that please"

alex lifted his knees and got in a comfortable position to start pushing his cock inside of you, never taking his eyes off of yours. your expression reflected everything he wanted to seem pleasure, excitement and the rush of tears he loved to see running down your cheeks as he fucked you. he dried your tears with his thumb and whispered something you couldn't hear because of your own moans right before he gave you the most passionate kiss you've ever recieved.

his movements started becoming faster as he felt he was close: he grabbed your cheek and made the kiss feel needy by letting go some moans on your lips, even cursing. with his other hand, alex hugged you by the waist and got you even closer to his body so he could fuck you faster, finally hitting your spot multiple times. you hugged him and buried your face in his chest trying to drown a scream.

"are you close?" you asked him with your eyes full of pleasure tears.

alex gave you a "yes" by shaking his head and stopped moving, took his dick out and started jerking off by looking at you right in the eye with a smile. he kissed you softly and licked your bottom lip, went down to your neck and left a little hickey on there.

he took one of your hands and placed it on his cock, putting his on top of yours to make you jerk him off.

not much time passed before alex came on your hand while letting go a moan from his puffy pink lips and smiled again as you didn't stop jerking him off.

you whispered his name and took his hand to your inner thigh, giving him the signal that you were close too and wanted him to touch you.

"al, please" you smiled and kissed his cheek, all blushed and breathing fast.

alex took two of his fingers to your clit, massaging it and trying to search your entrance with a third finger. once he found it, he massaged it without introducing his finger, only to tease you a bit. your moans could be the death of him; he would always speed up his movements just to hear you moan louder.

he kept teasing you by introducing his finger just a little while massaging your clit, enough to make you melt into his arms and close your eyes as you felt closer and closer to your orgasm.

your last words were nothing else than his name before cumming in his hand, unleashing every groan or scream you could have been retaining.

alex took his hand off and placed it on one of your ass cheeks to give it a slap and smiled all blushed.

"babe" alex whispered and played with your hair.

"mhm?"

"i love you"

you inmmediately felt a bunch of butterflies in your stomach, because, even if you didn't wanted to admit it, you loved him too. who wouldn't?

"i love you too, al. you're amazing" you buried your face into his chest and took the cigarette to have a puff.

"did you like it? did it hurt?"

"nah, it didn't. i really loved it" you gave him the cigarette and hugged him again. "by the way... uhm, was i wrong for doing it on your thigh?"

"no, you weren't. i liked it too" he laughed and blowed a cloud of smoke into the air, making sure it didn't hit your hair. he gave you the cigarette again before saying "do it".

"are you sure?"

"yeah, i want both of us to have marks from the other" alex closed his eyes to leave the placement choice up to you. you pressed the cigarette into his collarbone, making him gasp.

"did it hurt?" you said, worrying about the pain level. you weren't sure if al really liked pain on him, so you kissed the mark.

"just a little, but it's okay" he left a kiss on your forehead and took the cigarette, leaving it on the ashtray. "you know what? i missed you"

"i did too, babe. i thought you were not going to call me ever again..." you really did thought about that. even if you two were... friends? you still mised him. a lot.

"how could i? you know i always miss your kisses. i'm just too busy... and i hate it. i wanna be with you. can we stay here?" he took a blanket and placed it on top of both bodies.

"sure" you smiled and layed on his side, still holding the hug.

you closed your eyes and smelt the fragance on his neck, which was almost undetectable from the cigarette smell. well, what they said about him was partially right: "he was shy and smelt like cigarettes". and how could you not fall in love with someone like that?

hugging him, with your eyes closed, half asleep and half awake, that's when you noticed how madly in love you were with alex. and lucky you, because he was too.

#alex turner #alex turner smut #arctic monkeys #alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #alex turner x y/n #alex turner imagine #alex turner fanfic

[shroomi1e]

realistic reasons why genshin men are undatable

pt. 2 ft: ayato, scaramouche, dottore, pantalone, heizou, venti (part 1)

cw: light cursing, mild violence

a/n: WOO IM BACK FROM HIATUS🥳 im treating this as a warm up and just kinda throwing it out there, ill start working on more content so stick around for that :)

· · ───────────── ·𖥸· ───────────── · ·

ayato

well....

he's incredibly overworked, constantly running around trying to carry his clan and the yashiro commission on his shoulders

and him being a powerful person, it's likely that you'd be put in constant danger from those who want his position

he might be overprotective because of that, and would very much like to stick to your side 24/7 but obviously he can't

so try to get used to having bodyguards and the shuumatsuban tailing your ass all the time

but on a lighter(?) note: he probably plays really dumb pranks on you☠️

we already know that he's into seeing people struggle and squirm

so i can imagine he purposely sets things up to make you uncomfy or make it easy for him to tease you

he's still very much a gentleman so he won't push it too far but... that doesn't change the fact that he's a sadist

he's not as bad as diluc or childe, but he definitely needs some getting used to

scaramouche

well for starters, he greatly lacks in emotional capacity, he might not even tell you he has feelings for you

he's definitely bossy, does NOT want to be told what to do, even if it's "kind suggestions", he will not be tolerating anything

because of this, it might be difficult when trying to teach him about romantic relationships, he just kinda does whatever he wants to protect his pride

i feel like he'd also be rly pissy, he probably throws tantrums over the littlest mistakes or inconveniences

not to mention he's possessive, i can definitely see him as a more yandere-ey type

so say your final goodbyes to your friends and family because it's likely you're not ever seeing them again☠️

but before you lose hope! if you manage to get on dottore's good side, he might just help you do a factory reset on him

but then it wouldn't be the little electro gremlin we know and love, so you're better off just trying to change him by yourself (you can't)

dottore

i feel like he's similar to albedo, except he's sociopathic and a little more cynical

it's pretty obvious, he's experimented and hurt countless numbers of children and god knows what else

his experiments are on par if not worse than alice's experiments

dottore is most likely desensitized from this and rarely worries about your safety, brushing it off by saying, "I can fix it later"

but if we get past all the dark stuff, he's probably a nerd. a huge nerd.

since he was always an outcast and has been lonely for a while, I can imagine him rambling about his project for hours and hours on end

gets really really excited and happily tells you about how he's successfully chopped someone's limbs off☺️🥰

(I mean it's lowkey cute but like...)

he's always been shamed for what he does, so when you finally accept him he is determined to never let you go. ever.

keeps you around at all times, you're almost like a doll to him

he has some redeemable parts, idek at this point to be honest

pantalone

as of now, the only information we have on him is the harbinger trailer so this one is a little difficult

since he essentially manages the finances of the fatui, he's rich, even more so than childe

holds money to a very high regard, thinking it can solve and fix any problem

of course money can work in many situations, but rarely does it ever solve relationship issues

will give you gifts and money and other luxuries, but never sacrificing anything else for you

if you complain about him not giving enough affection or time to you, he'll simply state that he is indeed giving his love to you, just in a different form

has a hard time understanding that not everyone thinks about money like he does

he has good intentions and genuinely believes that throwing luxury items at you will convince you that he loves you

but unfortunately he's very set in his ways, i believe it will take some time for him to understand and relate to you

i think he is definitely better than childe, scara, and dottore

as of now it is assumed that he hasn't committed any violent or heinous crimes other than corrupting other nation's economics

heizou

he's perfect.

venti

he's the type to just sing anywhere and everywhere, it's tolerable since he's a great singer but itd be lowkey embarrassing

drunk 24/7

an extremely heavy drinker, always reeks of wine/alcohol whenever he walks by

requires assistance for when he blacks out while drinking, sobering him up will be a routine

but on a more serious note, he is an archon, an immortal being, while you're a human

much like zhongli, he might not even consider staying with you

he is the god of freedom, and the last thing he'd want is for you to be chained down to a relationship with someone like him

will respect your wishes if you insist on staying by his side, it just hurts knowing that you'll age and grow while venti never looks any different from the day before

even as an archon, he has his own issues to, such as his trauma from losing his friend

you could work him through it, though it might be difficult since he's lived with it for thousands of years

you might also fix his drinking problem if you work out his dead-friend trauma, you'd have to have his trust though

he is most definitely messier than zhongli, but i can see him being a genuinely kind person minus his chronic alcoholism and messy trauma

#genshin fanfic #genshin fic #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact headcanons #genshin x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact x reader #dottore #pantalone x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #dottore x reader #heizou #heizou x reader #genshin hc #genshin hcs #ayato #ayato x reader #ayato x you #genshin impact imagines #genshin drabbles #genshin fluff #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact fluff #fanfic #barbatos x reader #venti #venti x reader #venti headcanons

[1moremilgram-enjoyer]

MeMe and Control over One's Own Destiny

Alright I've been holding off on talking about Mikoto until Double releases, but I saw he was on a train and my brain went Silly. Don't you understand how crazy the symbolism is?! (<- Mentally unwell)

So now I have to talk about how MeMe handles the concept of destiny and the control the alters have on the system's future, because it's honestly so interesting to me.

CW Murder

Disclaimer: I'm not an expert on DID, feel free to correct me if I get anything wrong

The first big connection between MeMe and the idea of destiny is obviously the recurring theme of tarot cards. These are used for divination, meaning the practice of trying to learn about the future through supernatural means. In other words, they're deeply tied to the concept of destiny, of future events that will come to affect us, and the ways we may influence it. What's important to take away here is that, regardless of whether or not you believe in it, reading tarot cards is a way for people to try to understand their future so they can take try to take control of it.

Once you make this little connection, a lot of the imagery in MeMe starts to get interesting. To give you an example, one of the opening shots is of a bunch of tarot cards all scattered in water.

So, their future is scattered, it's uncertain, it's messy, etc. You get the idea, I don't think I need to elaborate on why Mikoto's life is a bit of a mess.

However, I think there are two scenes which are particularly interesting in this regard. When Aokoto (host) draws a blank card in the first chorus, and when he gathers the cards in the deck at the start of the third chorus.

So first, we can be sure this is Aokoto because the lyrics not only use 'boku', but also express confusion at the situation, which only really fits the host.

Why am I [boku] here? It must be a mistake? Take a good look at me [boku], until you find me The truth will come to reveal itself I won't forgive you if this is happening to me even though I'm right

Why am I [boku] here? It must be a mistake? Take a good look at me [boku], until you find me

(Note: If there is no clarification on which pronoun is used when I put lyrics here, it's because the Japanese doesn't actually use any pronouns)

What's happening here? As stated, the tarot cards are a representation of destiny and their future. By drawing a tarot card, Aokoto is trying to understand his situation and destiny better. And by stacking the deck up neatly, he's trying to take control of his destiny, of his future. The desire to be free and be able to control his life is a very important part of Aokoto's character:

(T1) Q14: What will you be doing in 10 years? M (Ao): I'd like to work independently and make my own design company. That way I'm free to do what I want.

(T1) Q8: What are your reasons for wanting to work for your current job? M (Ao): I work at an advertising company that's at the top of the business world, you know? Just being able to get to that position is something to be proud of. I worked really hard to get hired there, too.

Aokoto places high value on the work he's done, because that shows how committed he is to having control over his life and his job.

(T1) Q12: How do you get to work? M (Ao): I ride a road bike. It's a hobby of mine, and it's good to exercise too. I don't need to worry about missing the train, but that can either be a good or bad thing.

I've seen this answer interpreted a few different ways, but personally I believe what Aokoto's implying is that the freedom of not having to rely on the train is both good and bad. Essentially, he doesn't have to stress about missing it, but there's also no guarantee that he'll get to work in time without the reliability of the train. However, he still prefers the bike, because it gives him more freedom.

... Foreshadowing is a narrative device-

There's also the matter of the tarot spreads which appear in that "blank card" scene. There are two distinct ones:

Now, the whole mess is too complicated to get into here (and I actually am holding off from analysis until we get extra context from Double for that reason), but I believe one of these spreads belongs to Aokoto, and the other belongs to Midokoto (Secret Third gatekeeper alter). Which is which doesn't matter, because the card I want to focus on is the card in the "Hopes and Fears" position (EXTREMELY long story), which is I - The Magician (upright) in both of them. The Magician represents (among a fuckton of other things because tarot cards are frustratingly ambiguous by design) power, potential, basically the ability to achieve your goals. Thus, in the "Hopes and Fears" position, it would mean Aokoto wants to be able to control his life and fulfill his potential, and is afraid he might not be able to.

There is also the "Present" or "Self" card being the reversed XII - The Hanged Man. The Hanged Man upright represents (among other things) patience, the hope that as long as everything continues the same, things will turn out okay. Thus, reversed, it could be read as implying the querent is trying their best to change their situation, but are failing at it.

And this is where we get to the second part of the scenes I pointed out before. Because when Aokoto draws a card by itself, it's a blank card. In other words, no matter how much he wants to, Aokoto doesn't have full control of his future. I mean, obviously, right? He himself can't control his destiny when the other alters are also doing pretty impactful stuff. Depending on what theories you subscribe to, he may have ended up in Milgram without even murdering anyone, which is what I believe.

The same can be seen when he tries to put the deck back together. You might notice the deck there is actually thinner than the other time we see it.

He tries to "fix" or "arrange" his future, but he's "playing with half a deck", he's only half in control of his future. In this metaphor, the other alter(s) would have the rest of the deck, would control the rest of the system's destiny. Does that make sense?

Which gets us to the other alter who does tarot reading.

Notice the red mannequin there? The way 0 - The Fool's pouch of food is now a skull? And you can see this alter, heavily implied to be Orekoto, reads a Celtic cross spread with the Fool in the "querent" or "present" position.

Thus, The Fool represents Orekoto, and he too desires control over their future. That's why he's reading the spread, the same way Aokoto previously tried to draw a card to check his future. And I think it's pretty safe to say Orekoto must have killed or attacked at least one person, which is his way of trying to secure a better future for the system. Protector alter and all that.

[Timelines] Mikoto (Ao): Can you hear me talking like this? If you can hear me, then answer me. Why are you doing such horrible things? Hey. It's your fault things have become like this. ……Answer me!! Mikoto (Ore): Ah, ahhh!! Because, I did it for my/your (Boku's) sake…! Because I/you (Boku-ga) would break apart!!

(Translation by Maristelina)

Plus all the other reasons to believe that.

That spread is a bit odd for many reasons, but one thing we can pretty much be sure of is Orekoto's "Hopes and Fears" are represented by VII - The Chariot.

The Chariot (among other things) represents strength of will and control, basically think of it as a more forceful version of The Magician. Thus, Orekoto also hopes he can take control of their life, though he does it through force, and he fears he might be getting too forceful.

If I could laugh, if I could go back I'd play dead even though I'm alive right? If I could end, if I could stop How long would this dream go on?

Assuming it is Orekoto singing here (no pronouns so), it seems he doesn't want to kill, but sees himself cornered, like he has to kill. If he could stop, he'd "go back and play dead even while alive", he wouldn't kill anymore. But when he feels "boku will fall apart", he tries to save him through any means he can, which is likely murder. The exact reasons are as of yet unknown (someone stalking them, stress, could be a lot of things), but that's the idea.

However, you tarot enthusiast might notice a few interesting differences between this Chariot card and the actual Chariot card. This is important, because the meaning of these cards comes from the images, so when the image differs (apart from stylistic choices obvs), the meaning differs with it.

First important difference: the real Chariot has lions, MeMe's Chariot has bikes. This again relates bikes to the idea of freedom and one's own will.

Foreshadowing is-

Second; MeMe's Chariot has the protagonist swinging around a mace, which the real Chariot just has a wand. I frankly don't think this means anything other than MeMe's Chariot explicitly references murder rather than other, non-physical forms of strength and force.

Third, an important part of the real Chariot is that the man doesn't hold a leash on the lions, he controls them through force of will, apparently. Meanwhile, the mannequin in MeMe's version does hold chains to control the bikes, which again I believe simply implies a more forceful and direct version of the meaning. Orekoto doesn't trust his destiny to guide the system in the right direction as long as they're strong enough, he feels he needs to have more direct control.

And finally, the lions in the real Chariot are fine, but in MeMe's version, one of the bikes is fucking exploding.

So what the hell is up with that? Well, let's keep in mind what I said before. Aokoto also wants control of his life. So I believe in a way these bikes represent Aokoto and Orekoto's actions. One of them Orekoto has direct control over (he controls his own actions, after all), while the other is getting hurt by Orekoto's control. Orekoto may want nothing more than to protect the system, but the way he does it is harmful to Aokoto and destroys the control he wants to have over their life. I mean, it landed them in Milgram (according to some interpretations), and it's not like Aokoto likes the murder.

(T1) Q6: Tell us what you hate. M (Ao): Staying up all night working / reptiles / violence

[Double Preview] Hey now, I [ore] saved you right? So why in the hell are you crying?

(I will use the preview as evidence, watch me)

Temporary CW for abusive relationships and rape (Mono Poisoner)

This idea of "love" that hurts the other is also implied by Mono Poisoner, their Trial 1 cover. Though to be clear, Orekoto is not anywhere near as awful as the protagonist of Mono Poisoner, since he isn't intentionally hurting the rest of the system, and obviously isn't actually abusing the other alter(s).

“She belongs completely, entirely to me!” Kissing, sleeping together, everything beyond that too No one can hope to cut this connection between us

After brandishing that poisonous desire to monopolize and having erased YOU completely, It seems like it can be easily embraced, the entirety of that heart “YOU best not get carried away!”

Taking out the really violent and abusive elements out, this does vaguely fit the idea I'm trying to get across.

Temporary CW over

Anyways, the point is that Orekoto wants control over their life, but is accidentally harming Aokoto by taking away his agency.

There is more symbolism of this ‘drive to control destiny’ in the moon which consistently appears throughout MeMe.

As you can see, it’s in the first quarter phase. This is halfway between the New Moon which represents the beginning of a journey and the Full Moon which represents the end or rebirth, and because of that, it can represent a difficult time where decisions must be made, a point where strength of will is necessary. This again fits both of Aokoto and Orekoto, since they’re both making important decisions for their future. Hence also why the moon is half and half, the future is being decided half by Aokoto, half by Orekoto.

Alternatively, you could read it as only Orekoto making decisions, with the other 'half' being "left in the dark" because Aokoto doesn't know what Ore's doing. That would explain why the moon only shows up in relation to Orekoto in the internal world and the murder scenes.

Heavy speculation incoming (more than before anyways)

But hold on a second. I said before the upright Hanged Man, the card on Mikoto's shirt through most of MeMe, is about patience and not doing anything to change their situation. This is somewhat contradictory to The Fool, which is all about new opportunities and taking new risks (long story), and is obviously contradictory to the reversed Hanged Man because that's how tarot cards work. Because of that, and everything else I've been saying, it feels like the upright Hanged Man doesn't really fit either Aokoto or Orekoto.

Which is why it's so convenient we have a third (plot-relevant, there may be more) alter who does want their life to continue as is, isn't it?

The minus energy that I swallowed Hugged me [boku] Maybe it's okay to try to keep on living Split in half, Make that heart beat

This scene is very clearly connected to the aftermath of a murder, and shows an alter that has accepted the "negative (minus) energy" of violence. However, the use of 'boku' rules out Orekoto as the singer. Thus, we have ourselves our favorite Secret Third Alter, Midokoto. And Midokoto says, filling in the blanks, that ‘maybe it’s okay to keep living [like this]’, as long as they ‘split in half’ to ‘make that heart beat.’

Before we continue, I have to address that yes, I believe Midokoto is represented by the upright Hanged Man, even though he’s the only alter who’s never seen wearing the shirt. Either his back is turned, he’s shirtless, or straight up has a completely different shirt. However, I actually think this makes perfect sense.

It’s widely accepted that if Midokoto exists, he’s likely a gatekeeper alter who co-fronts most of the time, meaning he’s still aware of everything that’s happening even while he isn’t controlling the body (<- simplified version, read more if you’re interested [alter roles] [co-fronting]). Therefore, he’s a constant in Mikoto’s life, and it makes sense for him to always be present in some way as long as any alter is on screen. He’s on the shirt when the other two are there, so when the shirt isn’t there, it’s because the ‘upright Hanged Man’ is the one controlling the body. Does that make sense?

I should note, Mikoto’s version of The Hanged Man includes a bunch of eyes on the background.

Which fits the idea of Midokoto overseeing everything in the others’ lives, and for the inverse in Aokoto’s case could also be interpreted as societal pressure, long story.

Yes, Midokoto's celtic cross spread has the reversed Hanged Man in the middle of The Wheel, but let’s just say that means ‘present’ rather than ‘querent.’ Yes, there’s a Fool portrait in the background of that one scene, I swear there’s an explanation but it’s too long to get into here.

Point is, he’s the one who wants their life to continue as is, and thus the one who fits the idea of ‘patience’ that The Hanged Man (upright) embodies.

But make no mistake. He still has The Magician as his “Hopes and Fears” in the spread which represents him, meaning he does yearn for some control and fears not having the means to achieve it.

However, I believe the type of control he’s looking for is different from the other two. See, while Aokoto wants freedom and control over his life in a more conventional way (good job, free movement, independence), and Orekoto wants control in a ‘no one will stop “I/you” from achieving what “I/you” want’ kinda way (aka safety), Midokoto wants control over the system, not the rest of their life. He wants to keep Aokoto and Orekoto ‘split in half’ because that’s how they can both live as they please, it ‘makes their heart beat.’

That’s why the moon that represents decision-making is split in half. That’s why there’s only two bikes in The Chariot card. That’s why Midokoto never bothers to read a single tarot card. Because the ones deciding where their life moves are Aokoto and Orekoto, all Midokoto does is keep things running smoothly. Though of course, this is all just my interpretation.

In fact, you can even tell based on what we believe each alter to do. Aokoto does the day-to-day work, making sure he has the opportunity to achieve his dream of working independently in the future. Orekoto deals with threats until the system as a whole is safe, which includes throwing away evidence so they don't get arrested. He does a dogshit job at it, yeah, but he's trying.

However, once they get into the apartment, when the external threats have been dealt with, the one who bathes to make sure Aokoto doesn't learn of Orekoto's actions, the one who keeps their lives metaphorically 'split in half', is Midokoto.

Heavy speculation kinda over

So, where were we? I said this was inspired by the Double thumbnail, didn’t I? Well, yes, even if I have very little to say about it in relation to this post. You could say I kinda, uh, went off the rails a bit (<- I am immensely unfunny)

As I said, he’s on a train. And with all the stuff I mentioned before about how bikes are associated with freedom for him and stuff, it makes the imagery of being stuck on a train with the victims (I assume that’s what the mannequins represent, I’ve seen other interpretations) a lot more interesting.

Think about it. When you get on a train, you made the decision to enter it, but you don’t have control over where it goes. And that’s what’s happening here: the alter on screen is in for the ride, and he feels there’s nothing he can do to alter the course. It’s like a railroad.

Aokoto didn’t get on this train. Obviously the scene is metaphorical (otherwise who left their mannequins in the goddamn public train), but we know Aokoto doesn’t use the train. However, he’s on it now, alongside Orekoto who is probably the one fronting here? I assume, given the red light in the background. In my mind it would make sense for the thumbnails to be Aokoto T1 -> Orekoto T2 -> Midokoto T3, but that doesn’t have to be the case.

What I’m trying to convey is the symbolism of the system being stuck in a set path, a set destiny, caused by a decision not made by Aokoto. And if Orekoto is really the one fronting or being represented here, he’s miserable because of the path his actions have landed him on.

If I could break it, if I could change Can I do it, I wonder from when I started to give up

He’s ‘given up’ because he’s accepted he’s ‘on the train’, his path is already set and he can’t change it (“if I could change”). Yes, give me that Orekoto angst!

Anyways, please keep in mind this is all my interpretation of the symbolism and all of this is extremely subjective, especially with how confusing Mikoto's entire story is. I hope you forgive my brainrot at seeing a guy take a train. Take care!

#milgram #milgram theory #mikoto kayano #meme mv #do i tag the alters? #why not #aokoto #orekoto #midokoto

[jokingmisfit]

For Love

Yandere Jeremiah x Reader

Prompt- “This IV itches.”

Prompt- “This medicine makes me feel so out of it.”

Warnings- Kidnapping, Drugging, Mentions of needles (IV), Cuddling, Implied Isolation

After a few weeks you were calmer, or maybe it was the medicine in your system. So much time left with your thoughts and not much else has left you lonely and tired. Despite having nothing to do you were exhausted. Propped up in a padded rocking chair, with a book, attached to an IV. Too bad your brain can’t keep up with the lines in the book because of the drugs.

You wish you could take the needle out, but the last time you made that mistake you were tied to a chair for several days. At this point you don’t want to fight anymore. You just want a bit more. More to do, more stimulation. You chastise yourself for those thoughts; giving in just because you're bored. An under simplification sure, but you were angry. The thought of giving him what he wants was upsetting. 

But, things were getting harder. Whatever he was doing he was doing it right because you wouldn’t be able to ��fight’ back much longer.

You only realize you were staring at the wall when the door opens.

“Hello, Darling. How are you feeling?” Jeremiah asks calmly. Eyes calculating; evaluating everything you are.

You glare at him lightly. “I feel like I’ve been kidnapped and drugged.” You say bitterly.

He glares back at your words. You knew he hated when you answered like that. You always give that answer and it never ends well. His glare made you feel uneasy because you knew what could follow.

You sigh again, looking down to avoid his gaze. “This IV itches.” You start. “This medicine makes me feel so out of it. And there's absolutely nothing in this room that’s actually interesting. I’m really tired and there is no reason to be because I’ve done nothing. I feel useless. Like I’m rotting…” You quickly explain your thoughts.

“I see.” He responds, simply, stepping closer. 

Jeremiah reaches for your hand. He places his thumb over the spot the IV enters your veins. The light pressure relieves some of the discomfort you’ve been feeling. You kept your eyes on your hand as he watched you. He rose from his position, bent in front of you and looked at the bag over head.

“I’m trying to… understand… how I’m supposed to make you more… comfortable.” He states slowly.

“More comfortable or more willing.” You ask looking up at him.

Jeremiah's lips curled up. You had no idea whether it was to smile or snarl.

“Always so quick.” He said. “Give me a list of things you’d like. I’ll get them for you.” He offers.

“Can you stop whatever,” You pull loosely at the IV. “this is? Please.” You plead.

“No.” He replies. “Not yet.”

“When?” you question.

He laughs. “When you can be trusted, obviously.”

He cups your face with his hand. His thumb rubs your cheek. You watch him carefully. He may act kinder to you, but you’ve seen what he can do. You’ve witnessed his violence; his psychopathy. 

Jeremiah stood abruptly. He offered his hand out to you, and you, hesitantly, took it. He helped you stand on your unstable legs. The both of you moved towards the bed.

The bed was cool and comfortable. Different from the padded chair. After so many hours in one spot changing your position felt nice. You still wanted to argue for more freedom, more movement, but you knew it would only cause you pain. 

His cologne was surprisingly calming. His suit jacket abandoned earlier when he entered making it easier for him to wrap his arms around you. Jeremiah picked up a book of his own and began to read.

You laid in his arms silently for a few minutes. As tired as you were, your boredom held on tighter. As stubborn as you were, your boredom was louder.

You sighed a little before asking. “Can you read it to me?” You felt embarrassed, but you needed more than this.

A smile grows on Jeremiah's face at your question. “Of course, dear.” He responds.

As he reads you feel your eyelids droop. You feel disappointed in yourself, but he’s becoming one of the few things that can hold your interest. One of the few things to bring you comfort. It was twisted, but you were beginning to need him. A terrible fate but one you weren’t going to fight against much longer.

#jeremiah valeska x reader #jeremiah valeska #gotham #gotham x reader #valeska x reader #yandere jeremiah valeska #yandere jeremiah valeska x reader

[aurumacadicus]

For the blurb thing maybe Coulson and Tony plus pumpkin carving?

Tony is so skilled with his hands and Coulson is so stupidly in love with him.

--

Phil was on gutting duty. He found, surprisingly, that he quite liked it. There was something soothing about sawing around the stem, angled just right so the top wouldn't fall back in; scooping the insides clean and smooth; dumping the strings and seeds into their designated buckets at his feet; and then carefully placing the lid back on top and pushing it further down the table. He was quick. Efficient. Considering what spices to use on the pumpkin seeds after roasting them later.

It kept him from the awkward position of having to make small-talk with children. Tony was good at it--he could chat with a child for hours despite understanding nothing of the subject. As easily as he could make people rich people feel small, he could make small children feel larger than life. It was part of the reason he loved Tony, after all: Tony could wither him with one look if he was focused on the wrong thing, and Tony could build him up with just a few words after a long day of losses when he felt like a failure.

"What do you think, Phil?" Tony asked, turning his immaculately sculpted pumpkin toward him. It was quite obviously Hulk's fist. "You think people will be able to tell what this is?"

"Of course," Phil agreed, because one time he'd joked about it and the child receiving the pumpkin hadn't understood, and Tony had had to soothe several ruffled feathers.

Tony turned the pumpkin toward the little girl who had asked for it theatrically. "Well! And what do you think, little lady?"

"I'm not a lady, I'm a dinosaur," the little girl said, and then let out a roar to prove it.

"My mistake. Obviously you are a dinosaur," Tony agreed without missing a beat. He motioned at the pumpkin with a flourish. "Does this pumpkin meet with your reptilian satisfaction?"

The girl pursed her lips, skeptical, then nodded firmly. "Yes, it's very good."

"And what do we say?" her father asked kindly.

"Thank you Mr. Iron Man sir," she said, with more gravity than it probably deserved, before her dad scooped the pumpkin up to take on to the next booth with them.

"You're welcome!" Tony called after them, then sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Ouch."

Phil turned, reaching out to take one hand between both his own and massage it. "How are you doing? Need a break?"

Tony opened his mouth, then closed it again, considering. Finally, he decided, "I'm fine. Most kids are clearing out, so we've probably only got a couple more pumpkins to do, if that much." He flexed his other hand, then pulled his hand from Phil's. "That one doesn't hurt as much. Do this one."

"Okay," Phil replied, gamely turning his attention to rubbing his other hand. "Are you going to stay to hand out candy?"

"My arms are going to fall off," Tony complained. "And if I see one more popcorn ball I'm gonna hurl."

"Okay," Phil said again, unable to keep the fondness out of his voice. "Well, I think your Halloween Carnival is once again a great success."

Tony hummed, a pleased smile crossing his face. "I'm glad. You weren't too bored, were you?"

"When I can listen to you have an extended conversation with a tiny vampire about the ethics of drinking from animals versus humans? Of course not," Phil scoffed. He lifted Tony's hand to press a kiss to the back of it. "Lucky you've already got calluses on your hands, or you'd be worse off."

"I suppose there is an upside to being in the workshop all day," Tony mused, brushing the backs of his fingers over Phil's lips. "How are your hands, paper-pusher?"

"Sore," Phil admitted. "But I could take more breaks than you, so probably not as bad as yours. No blisters," he added when he noticed Tony trying to peek. "I'm fine."

"Okay," Tony said, clearly reluctant, but Phil wasn't in the habit of lying to him. "Well. I have one more pumpkin I want to carve."

Phil released his hands. "If you have to."

"I do," Tony decided, turning to the pumpkin Phil had just emptied.

Phil focused on cleaning up, because it looked like they truly weren't going to get anymore kids coming up. Tony had people to do the really dirty work, but he busied himself with tidying the carving implements and checking the buckets to make sure that there was no trash in them. He checked their phones for any announcements from event organizers and found nothing but 'great job, everyone!' from them.

"Ta-da!" Tony exclaimed, turning the pumpkin toward him with a smug grin. It had Captain America's shield carved into it. "For you!"

"What if I would have preferred the arc reactor?" Phil asked.

Tony scowled at him. "You get that whether you like it or not. Just for that, I'm sleeping in the guest room."

"No you're not," Phil said, taking the pumpkin from him. "I'm putting this in the living room for the party tomorrow so I can see how many times people harass Steve with it."

Tony beamed at him, affront forgotten as quickly as it had come. "I'll make sure to put an electric candle in so Steve can't just blow it out."

"Thank you," Phil said, leaning in to kiss his cheek, and then chucked a handful of pumpkin string at Clint when he heard him yell 'gross!'

#aurumacadicus answers #irontaser #autumn meme

[meraxesmoon]

Ok, but... What exactly did alicent do wrong tho... Why do people hate her (in the show ppl calm down)

Her being married to viserys was ottos doing ... She didnt have a choice she was a girl who was manipulated by her own father...

Her attacking luke was because he maimed aemond... If my son lost an eye i wouldnt stop until the person who maimed him was dead

"but lucerys was a child" SO WAS AEMOND, and he has to live with the loss of an eye

And lucerys didnt even feel bad... He was laughing when the pig was served at the table at the feast years later

The only thing that you can get her with is not being a very good mother, that i accept but blaming her for defending HER SON... girl...

Now in the book...

I do think shes mother... She such a complex character shes flawed but understands her mistakes... Dont get me wrong she is still mean and vengefull to people she deems as enemies but she has more of a heart than cersei lannister (despite some people trying to say that she is the version of cersei in hotd)

Idk... Some people just see the targaryens as superior beings and skip over their faults because they have dragons and are cooler to watch

I do think rhaenyra is the heir to the throne... But that doesnt mean that she has to be likeable to someone... Or that team black is better because she has dragons... If they werent evenly matched the war wouldnt be one of the most memorable in weteros for years to come

Im sorry for the rant... But im just tired of every team black member calling her alicunt...like... Are you twelve?

Yeah, people like to call Rhaenyra this feminist in Westerosi history, but it's just not true (at least if you believe some of the accounts in the book). Rhaenyra stans are like very extreme about her, and as a joke, that's fine, but most of them are dead serious.

I recently saw a post on TikTok that said the Driftmark scene was just Rhaenyra being a victim, and that's the most chronically online thing I've seen in a while. If you really sit down and think about it, Alicent had every reason to snap. Like, I love Rhaenyra, but she really was getting away with murder. Like, she had three illegitimate children, obviously, and just expected everyone to act like they weren't bastards.

People also say that it doesn't matter that Rhaenyra's children are illegitimate because she's heir to the throne. That makes ZERO sense, especially if you think about how that's treason and against the laws of Westeros. Alicent has every reason to feel bitter and upset about Rhaenyra pulling wool over everyone's eyes.

As for Alicent in the book, I really like her as well. Unlike Alicent in the show, she is in a huge position of power. A lot of people don't realize that she ruled ten times longer than Rhaenyra and Aegon combined. She wasn't this small little pawn being used like she is in the show. I adore both versions, but book Alicent is such a boss ass bitch! Despite her coldness and brutal behavior towards the Blacks, Alicent loves her kids so much in the books. Like, she places her own crown on Helaena's head after Aegon is crowned, she has a lot of faith in her sons, and the fact that Helaena and her children visit Alicent visit her every night before bed definitely says something about how Alicent was with her children.

Alicent in the book is pretty young when she marries Viserys, not as young as in the show. I feel like she was still sort of a victim of Otto, even in the book, but she ends up taking power into her hands because she wants to protect her children.

Notice how the people who hate Alicent would like her a lot if she was in any other type of series. They just don't like her because she's going against Rhaenyra.

Targaryen supremacists are so fucking annoying! If Alicent were a Targaryen woman they wouldn't have a problem with her, and Visenya Targaryen is a prime example of their hypocrisy (she literally usurped Aegon's son lol).

I'm Alicent's biggest defender, and I'll stay that way <3

LIKE LOOK

SHE JUST WANTS TO PROTECT HER CHILDREN

#alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #otto hightower #hotd 2 #hotd #house of the dragon

[twoksoo]

Secret Ending || 01

→ Pairing: Jungkook x reader

→ Genre: videogame!au, fluff, smut (in the future tho), slow burn, historical if you squint your eyes.

→ Rating and warnings: +18, brief depictions of vomit, drinking alcohol, death but not really, everyone is kinda cringe, reader is self-aware and likes to swear a lot

→ Word count: 10,581

→ Summary: After a shady accident in the back of an alley, you wake up reincarnated as the villainess of a mediocre romance video game you've been hooked up with. As you try to avoid triggering the flags that lead to impending death with the power of knowledge, you'll notice that maybe not all paths have been cleared yet.

→ Author’s note: first part of three (hopefully) Totally based on that manwha called “beware the villainess”, it’s so good you should read it. english is not my first language so you should expect mistakes here and there 👁️ also, I've already posted this on ao3

It was in an alley, at the youthful age of twenty-five, that you died.

You thought your life wasn't remarkable at all. And let's not get this the wrong way. Your life wasn't bad per se. You didn't have any sorrowful regret or a groundbreaking backstory that made you somehow special or unique. But you have a loving family, loving friends. A cute, little dog named Diego and an okay apartment in the suburbs of the city. Even a good desk job! After years of sweat and tears in college, all the pain paid off when you managed to get a position at your dream job. Which was your main goal in life. That's it, you accomplished the thing you wanted the most, your family was thriving in your success… and then you didn't know what else to do with yourself after that.

So yeah, pretty boring.

The routine and being an adult, in general, was lackluster to you. Sometimes you even hated your coworkers a little bit. It's not like they were bad, but on certain days, their teasing was too much. You know how older people love to make fun of the younger generations and their not-so-mature hobbies? Like when Tina from human resources noticed you playing a shitty mobile game in the break room and decided to tell everyone in the damn office that you were an “otaku” and that “my thirteen-year-old son plays the same things as her”. Gritting your teeth and fake smiling at the new nicknames those bastards threw at you at every chance was becoming more and more of a burden each day.

You could talk about it for days, always choosing to complain to your best friend on the phone or to the guys in the chatroom of whatever videogame you were playing that afternoon. Just because your hobbies didn't relate to them, they felt entitled to make fun of you, laughing and giggling as if you weren't there.

But it wasn't bullying. You weren't an otaku. You just loved video games, and that was different.

Back in the days, in the old high school days, liking video games and anime and all that stuff was frowned upon. Surely, you went through a lot of trauma because kids would be not so nice to you. So that remained. Just the trauma. You knew your coworkers weren't being bad, just—old habits die hard. You wouldn't let those comments get to you, because liking those kinds of things was not a bad thing. Now it was even cool! A part of “pop culture”, and everyone liked the popular culture. It was called popular for a reason, right?

Well, not if you were a functional adult, obviously.

Even your parents had some opinions about it. You lived two hours away from them, away from your hometown, so you couldn't see them very often, but still tried to call your mother a couple of times a week, and then out of nowhere she would start bugging you about spending all of your money on “Nintendos”, like if that was a thing. Even if you wanted to do it and spend everything you had on cartridges, you had sold out your old console to eat instant noodles for a couple of weeks during the pandemic, and the only thing you used to play with was your work computer. So you didn't need to buy cartridges anymore when you could just download anything for free on the internet, but your mom didn't understand this, and you didn't have the patience to explain it to her. So she keeps teasing.

Being in a new city without friends, you were a little salty that you didn't have the best relationship with the people who worked around you. Even if they were boomers, you felt lonely. Because meeting new people when you were an introvert was a pain in the ass, but you also wanted to fit in, so in the last few weeks, you pretended to be a full-fledged member of society by older people's standards, even if the only thing you wanted to do was to lose yourself in a fictional, pixel world, like Minecraft. But then, being an adult happened, and you didn't have time to play because you felt so tired after work, and now you had to engage in social things and—

And so, when the cute accountant from your office told you that they—he and the other irrelevant people of the office— were going out for drinks after work, you immediately said yes.

Finally, you were going to be a part of the boomer gang! Yay!

Sadly for you, you couldn't handle alcohol very well. After the fourth beer, the room started to spin and then you wanted to puke, but you didn't want to do it in front of everyone, and that was becoming a certain possibility after the shots of tequila keep going down your throat. So instead of going to the bathroom like a normal person would do, you decided to just go home instead, be responsible, and maybe throw up in some dark and totally not questionable alley at the back of the bar.

That was what led you to your early death.

You don’t remember much. You don’t even know what happened. At least you don’t remember pain— which was a good thing. There was only a brief period of darkness and then self-awareness of being fucking dead, followed by a throbbing that started at the back of your skull.

You awoke to so much light, groaning without opening your eyelids and sinking your head into the comfort of the thin mattress beneath you. There’s a weird taste in the back of your throat and you don’t dare to move until your vision stops spinning. Blinking, you push yourself upright, grimacing at the sudden nausea that washes over you.

You don’t believe in an afterlife, but you don’t question yourself when you notice that you are in a very beautiful room. Exposed wooden beams and large paper windows that open to a narrow veranda and a set of stairs that lead to a massive pond in the middle of a garden, you wonder if this is what heaven should look like.

After all, you should be dead.

How cliché is that? You die stupidly and the next thing you know, you are waking up in a strange but lavish place full of incense and some paper lanterns, wearing robes that feel way too expensive for someone like you, as if you were the protagonist of a mediocre webtoon. Yeah, they were all the same. You knew that because you loved to read them over and over, rooting for the main yet weak character that came with a whole harem of gorgeous people behind them. You even went as far as playing games based on that premise.

You shuddered, cringing at the thought. Now that you were dead—or maybe just in a coma, because you don't think what you're experiencing right now is real—, you felt kind of ashamed. Yeah. It was time to stop once you recovered from whatever this was.

Trying to put two and two together, the main song of “Dumb Ways To Die” keeps replaying over and over in your head. You are pretty sure you are not dead because the floor beneath your bare feet feels way too cold and if you died, you know you would be burning in the depths of hell, and not in some fancy but old-looking room.

As you are pondering your whereabouts, the door suddenly slid open, interrupting your thoughts, and a young girl wearing long robes comes into the room, carrying a tray full of things. You halt in your steps and she does the same, eyes widening in a state of astonishment. In a clumsy movement, she sinks to her knees and bows, letting the tray and all its contents roll to the floor. She squeaks as you hurriedly approach her to help her gather the things, keeping her gaze on the floor.

“My lady, please forgive me” she pleads in a breathy voice, bowing even further, her forehead touching the wood underneath her. “I thought you were still bedridden…”

You stare perplexed for a long second at her tiny form crouching in front of you and you take a step back, your hand reaching to scratch at the back of your neck in a nervous tick. The end of your robe is getting wet with whatever was spilled on the flooring and you groan, frightening the girl once more.

“Please have mercy on me!” she yelps.

Wow, how exaggerated.

“Hey, uh… It’s fine.” You croak, your voice is hoarse. Clearing your throat, you crouch down to her level, placing one hand on top of hers. You try to overlook the way she cowers from your touch, but at the same time, you can not ignore how puzzled you are by her behavior, as if she were afraid of you. “It was an accident. Don’t worry about it.” You assert with your gentlest voice and the cute girl takes a short intake of breath. She gazes up, blinking slowly at the expression on your face. You are pretty sure there's a grimace on it, and when you lock eyes with each other, you notice the tears in her eyes, moisture spilling down her gaunt cheeks. She hesitates and you stutter. “Just... Just get up.”

The girl nods slowly, not breaking eye contact. She wipes her eyes with the back of her robe and in utter silence starts picking up the teacup and a single chipped cup that broke when it toppled down to the floor. She hisses quietly when her fingers start bleeding from the broken glass but work quickly before you could intervene. Throwing reserved glances at you from time to time, she finishes putting everything on top of the forgotten tray and takes a step back when you clear your throat for the second time.

“What's your name?” you ask, turning your back to her and focusing hard on the paper windows.

“Yun Cheorin, of the Yun Clan, my lady”

You turn around. She is pretty, with pale skin and bright eyes, long black hair in a traditional updo you've seen in some historical dramas. Wearing robes similar you yours, you keep wondering what the hell is going on. She keeps babbling about something in a shy voice, but you can't pretend to follow whatever she is talking about, because you're being weirded out by her mannerisms and thick accent. And the whole setting around you.

“Okay? Uh, so… Cheorin! I don't want to be rude, but, uh… could you please tell me where we at?”

Her mouth snaps shut. The look she throws at you is the same one your best friend gave to you when she noticed you liked to eat tacos with a chocolate milkshake, a mix between uneasiness and being concerned for your stomach. You are probably reflecting the same look on your face, both of you being so confused by the current exchange.

Cheorin keeps quiet for a second, before answering deliberately. “I'm afraid I don't understand your question, my lady.”

Now you were getting annoyed. And scared.

“Where am I?” you stare hard at her shaking hands, then at her face. She pales at your visible rage and you try to calm down. “Don't get me wrong, this place is beautiful, but… Look, last time I was puking my guts out in a dirty alley. This—” you gesture at the room frantically—, “is not a dirty alley. So, what is this building? Where are we?”

“…You are at the inner court of the Royal Palace”

You blink twice. “…the what?”

“The royal palace of the southern capital. Home of your Highness, King Kim and his family,” she hurriedly turns around to open a window at the other side of the room, showing a grandiose structure made of stone and golden roofs far away, gleaming brilliantly against the sky. “That’s the royal palace and this is your chamber, my lady. You took a hit on the back of your head, maybe that's why—”

You ran off the room before she could finish her sentence. Tripping at the bottom of the stairs, you hear Cheorin’s distressed yell behind you, people in the garden being startled by the commotion. You ignore their whispers and the sting from rocks digging painfully into the palm of your hands. You keep running, yanking, and tossing at the fabric until you feel you can breathe again. Coming to a halt before the shallow pond in the middle of the garden, your knees bend from the shock, ogling at your reflection.

That’s not you. The face reflected on the ripples of water is definitely not your face, neither the sharp eyes nor the high cheekbones, framed by a fresh river of panicked tears.

The girl in the reflection is beautiful, so beautiful it hurts. But it’s not you.

A pair of hands grab your shoulders from behind, trying to shake you out of your stupor. Someone is calling a name, and you think they're referring to you. The words are a mumbled mess in your head, and the world turns dark for a second time that evening.

 —

After three days and two nights of bawling your eyes out, throwing up, and screaming every fifteen minutes, you've come to the realization that you're not dreaming. It's a living nightmare.

Not a single soul has dared to disturb you, until the third day, when Kim Taehyung came to your chambers to pay you a visit. Cheorin announced his impromptu stay over the course of the morning, this time sounding much more self-confident that the first time you met her. And even though you didn’t know who he was at the time—well, you didn’t know anyone—, his name was familiar to you, making you feel anxious about his arrival and its motives behind it. Yet, you didn’t want to ask anyone who he was to you, you were getting tired of the pity they couldn’t hide etched on their faces when you asked something that you supposedly already know.

You came to the conclusion Taehyung was somehow a very important person. The servants looked frantic cleaning, hurriedly walking from here to there, trying to make everything look perfect on such short notice. You wanted to help, feeling bad for not doing anything but drowning in your sorrows the entire day, but they were still afraid of you, you could hear their whispers from behind the walls, so you just stayed away from them and everyone in general.

Someone came to fetch you in the middle of the chaos. Two young girls who you’ve never seen before. They took you to an adjacent bath where they took off your clothes and rubbed you raw until your skin was red and shiny, then they proceeded to dress you with the finest fabrics you've ever felt on your skin. You were all dolled up, feeling so out of place in the middle of an ornamented room, looking at Cheorin and the handsome stranger behind her, flanked by two tall men wearing dark clothes.

“My Lady. Kim Taehyung is here to see you.” Cheorin bows, but not before throwing a reserved glance at the man in front of you. You couldn't judge her. He was really, really handsome.

You nod to her, eager to talk to someone who knows you and doesn't seem afraid of your new bitch face. He smiles softly at her, eyes crinkling at the corners and Cheorin flushes red. She bows one more time before slipping off the room quickly, leaving the door open, and for a second you are not sure if you should follow her to get away from this stranger, who keeps smiling until she disappears from out of sight. Then, he turns to face you, the smile disappearing abruptly from his tanned face.

“Please leave us. And close the door”

His deep voice gave you whiplash. His stone-cold eyes are solely focused on your shocked expression, yet, the instruction is not for you. The two taller men follow his commands without hesitation, retiring silently from the room and closing the door behind them. Taehyung waits a for few seconds before speaking once again, this time much more gravelly.

“It's so much worse than the rumors say.” He sighs, rubbing the palms of his hands across his face. Taehyung looks exasperated with you already, but you haven't said anything yet. “They told me you tripped on the king's chamber and knocked your head against a table. How stupid could you be?”

Your mind went blank and you gaped like a fish before answering, “I'm sorry, I'm not following.”

“Do you know how ashamed I felt when I heard about your little show from the other day? Is this a joke to you? You're tarnishing our family reputation.” Taehyung sauntered slowly over to you, gaze glued on your agitated state. His calm demeanor not doing anything to help you calm down yourself. “You think because of a concussion I'm going to believe you are now like this? Like a meek, little mouse? It doesn't suit you, at all. So drop the act and get yourself together” he whispers and you remain silent.

You had a vague idea of what he was talking about. You heard some rumors from inside the paper walls of your room, the servants in the corridors not doing a good job of being subtle. They whispered about an accident, something that happened to you while you were... Attending some matters in the king’s chamber. It was really embarrassing. Some said you tripped and hit your head. Others said the king slapped you so hard you fainted for two days. You’ve heard other interesting theories being whispered among the girls who catered to you, but you weren’t angry about the gossip, after all, you know how bored people can become when they don’t have internet.

Taehyung keeps staring at you. A soft touch from his finger on your cheek was enough to anchor you back to reality. “Kim Taehee, at least you remember your name, right?” the warmth from his touch was distracting, but not enough to stop the nervousness running through your veins. “The servants did say you hit your head pretty hard. They also said someone saw you with Jeon Jungkook. What were you thinking? Running around with that lowly guard when you are the favorite concubine of the king.” His hand keeps wandering, softly touching your mouth, then the tip of your nose. It was unnerving, his whispered words hard, yet his touch so gentle. “You are not going to throw away all the hard work our parents put into raising you, little one. What would you have done if Seokjin knew about your escapades? He would behead the entire family!”

You stammered, grabbing his hand and pushing it away, disturbed by how openly he was touching you. You said the first thing that came to your mouth. “You are pretty rude.”

Kim Taehyung scoffs, “don't talk to me like that. I am your eldest brother” he replies, not moving an inch.

Brother? But you didn't have any brother…

You take a step back, looking straight into his eyes and replying with the strongest voice you can muster, “but I can't even remember you. I don't think I like you…”

“I don't do it either. No one does, actually.” Taehyung grabs you by the face, his strong fingers sinking painfully into your cheeks. He leans forward until both of your foreheads are touching and his warm breath grazes your skin. “If you weren't so pretty not even the king would like you” he hisses and the corners of his mouth quirk up. Pushing you aside, he plasters the fakest smile you've ever seen, and you rub the red mark of his fingers on your face. “I'm doing you a favor telling you this, sister. Stay away from Jeon Jungkook. Don't ruin our plans because you want to fool around with some scumbag.”

Patting the imaginary dust from his clothes, he slid the door open, a ray of sunshine illuminating his head like a halo. Like an angel, how ironic.

“Remember I have eyes everywhere”

 

—

 

You couldn’t sleep that night.

Tossing and turning in the mattress, you keep thinking about Taehyung’s words—Taehyung’s threat. Something he said was nagging at the back of your mind, something familiar. The names he spit around, your name in this new universe you lived in were oddly natural to your ears. Kim Taehee. Kim Taehyung. Kim Seokjin—the more you tried to think about it, the stronger your migraine gets. Repeating those names over and over in your brain was exhausting, it sounds like a fan chant for a K-pop group. A K-pop group you were part of.

You were the royal concubine of your Highness, King Seokjin. Seemingly, you were also his favorite consort woman. So you were pretty much a part of his harem. And the first in line to the throne.

But there was something else you were trying hard to understand.

Yun Cheorin… Jeon Jungkook…

“Holy fuck”

A lightbulb went on inside your brain. Leaping out of the mattress, you start to undress, pulling away the thick fabric from your long legs. Heart beating erratically in your chest, your eyes found a heart-shaped birthmark on the inside of your thighs, a cute little mole that was somehow the only blemish in the soft expanse of skin.

“No. This can't be real”. You gasp and as if your hands were burned, you let the garb drop in its place. Letting your mind wander is harder than you thought when there are so many bits of information coming to you at the same time, an unnerved feeling dropping over you.

A couple of months ago, maybe at the lowest point of your entire life, the lack of social interactions made you delirious, almost losing your sanity in the process. None of the dating apps worked for you, and you felt so lonely, you were desperate. So you did what you knew best.

Videogames.

One day, a random video on YouTube recommended you a new type of game, some kind of interactive visual novel. Otome games. You just had to click on some text and your decisions lead you to a different path every single time. When you realized what was going on, you’d already played like ten different ones. There was something about all the beautiful people pining for the noble, yet stupid and overpowered protagonist in every single route. Sure, It wasn’t the best thing you’ve played, but if you tried hard enough, you could pretend it was you living those fantastic stories and not a depressed human just clicking random words on a computer at three in the morning.

There was one that caught you the most. “Secret Ending: All Paths Lead To Glory!” was only two dollars on the steam shop when you first saw it. It took three weeks on your shopping cart before you were bored enough to actually buy it. The name was stupid, the main protagonist was stupid and you felt stupid, but you couldn’t stop playing. Eight hours and a familiar-sized bag of Cheetos later and you already cleared all the paths. The main plot of the story was about a meek girl from the countryside whose parents had used their meager influence to get her a job in the king’s palace and ended up being the new queen of the country. Spoilers! Not all of the endings were bad. As its title says, all paths did lead to glory, so if the main protagonist didn’t get the love of the king, she would end up with another hunk of a guy. Maybe the heartless general of the imperial army, or a shy knight from another kingdom. You could even date the damn gardener, for fuck sake. And the only thing they all have in common is that they’re super hot and were madly in love with the protagonist.

Also, in all of the paths, the villainess dies.

It was so predictable, in every darn story you’ve ever read, in every shitty romance book you obsessed with, the bitchy villainess or main antagonist of whatever was in the middle of the protagonist's epic adventure had to suffer a horrible ending. Take for account Loki. He deserved so much more and you got so angry with what they’ve done to him at the beginning of one of the final parts of The Avengers, that you canceled your subscription to Disney plus. Couldn’t they see he was suffering? Thor was an awful brother, you resented him and the rest of the heroes for a solid two days before forgetting and moving on with your life.

In “Secret Ending: All Paths Lead To Glory!”™ this was not the exception. The main antagonist was either beheaded by the king in a public execution or impaled by the sword of a guard. Or killed by falling off a cliff. Or exiled from the country. None of the mentioned before were a decent way to get rid of the bad guy of the story. They were kinda cliché. But you didn’t pay any attention to undeveloped and boring characters. And that was exactly what the villainess of that main otome game was. Pretty, but bad to the core. And boring. So boring.

She also had a tiny mole on one of her legs. A heart-shaped birthmark, which, to you, was such an irrelevant fact to know. But you've seen some x-rated unofficial drawings on some blog and it stuck to your brain ever since.

Her name was Kim Taehee. The youngest daughter of a wealthy family from the capital, who robbed the heart of the king and became his favorite concubine, the first candidate to become queen of the country and who also was annoying and bitchy towards the heroine, the cute Yun Cheorin, from the Yun Clan. In the main path, she tries to kill the king in a jealousy attack—failing miserably, because bad guys never get away unscathed—, and gets killed by one of his most loyal guards when trying to flee from the city.

Your knees are too weak to carry you to the mirror in the corner of the room, so you crawl until you are in front of it, taking a look at your stupefied face. The light coming from the paper lantern in the corner was enough for you to see the resemblance, it's barely there, but it's there. And then everything clicks.

Maybe you are in hell.

You don't scream. You don't cry. You've done that a lot in the past few days, and honestly? You've become so tired.

That doesn't mean you can accept this new alternative reality you suddenly lived in. It was shocking, but hey! It could be worse, right?

You drop on the thin mattress once again, wishing you could discover the secrets of the universe by boring holes with your eyes on the ceiling. But life doesn't work like that, and you were going to do something about it very soon.

Because if this… crazy, absurd theory of yours is real, and you are indeed inside of a fictional otome videogame, that means you were the villainess of the story.

And you were going to die again.

 

—

After two weeks, you still had a difficult time trying not to get lost in the palace; the craving for exploring and discovering new places was more powerful than the fear of imminent death. The palace was like a miniature city in itself, a labyrinth made of wood, stone, and paper walls. Dark-roofed buildings that looked all the same, pristine gardens raked with white sand, and growing bamboo that was far too flawless to be real. Nobles, draped in opulent hanboks embroidered with threads of gold and silver, moved with graceful precision, their every action a careful dance of social etiquette. Stoic guards doing surveillance or walking the halls, and servants scurrying from one place to another, none of them paying attention to their surroundings, always hurrying to reach their destinations. Their eyes rarely met yours, their gazes darting away like startled deer at the sight of a predator. You were an enigma, an outsider, and the weight of their wariness pressed upon you.

Everything seemed perfectly unrealistic, like a utopian maze, a fortress designed to baffle the adversaries and threats from the king and his relatives. Narrow halls that led to nowhere, pebble-covered walls blocking the paths, the scrutiny of someone's gaze on the back of your head, frenzied whispers, and furtive glances. The fragility of the situation, the knowledge that every step you took was being scrutinized by watchful eyes, threatened to consume your sanity.

But amidst the chaos of your thoughts, there was a flicker of defiance. You would not succumb to the suffocating expectations of your role as a concubine. No, you would carve your own path, even if it meant venturing into the unknown.

But hey, at least some of the people attending directly to you were getting warmer and less afraid of your presence each day, which to you was an absolute win. Still, loneliness was slowly eating you, and with loneliness and so much time to kill, think and daydream were your new favorite hobbies.

You were terrified of forgetting. As the days passed, you often wondered if there would be a time when you wouldn't recall your old life. You often daydreamed about your family and your friends. About the music you would be listening to at the moment, or the foods you would be eating. About the life you've never got to have. No lover, no children, no nothing. You were dead.

Had people even mourned you? Or did they just go on with their lives as if nothing happened?

Thinking about it was painful enough to not want to dwell on it. Perhaps it would be better if those thoughts could just fade away; To be happy and blissfully ignorant of what was going on at the moment in real life. It didn't matter anyway. This was your new reality.

The only thing you could not forget, even if you wanted to, was the plot of the damn game. Your life depended on it. The first night of realization was spent on writing and analyzing every single detail of the plot —Or at least, the things you could remember. The lore, everything about the fake history of a fake country, which was loosely based on Korea during the Joseon dynasty. Which, of course, you didn’t know much at all. Only what was shown on television, and that was not a relief. You also tried to remember all the routes but failed miserably because you didn’t finish them all… You were pretty sure there was a hidden one you failed to find. You also thought about what and whom to avoid. And after a long time pondering your options, a new plan started to develop...

How could you survive and evade death in this unfamiliar world?

Step number one: discard any weaknesses.

It was challenging to be anything other than polite in this alternative reality where everyone feared you. It might have been considered mean-spirited, but you found joy in the bewildered expressions on the girls' faces whenever you responded with a sincere "thank you" as they brought you meals or brushed your long hair. After all, Kim Taehee's in-game personality was predictably obnoxious, inflicting pain and psychological abuse on others because she could get away with it, thanks to her favored position as King Kim Seokjin's concubine. But in the game, all that changed when the main protagonist, Yun Cheorin, arrived at the palace.

And now, that moment had arrived.

During the first few days, you anticipated that Cheorin would be a problem. She was your sworn enemy, at least in the game, and the sole reason for your demise in each route. You attempted to avoid any encounters with her whenever possible, but it proved challenging since she was one of the servants. Even if you ceased your bullying behavior towards her, misunderstandings were still likely to occur, and that was a risk you were unwilling to take. Consequently, you learned to scurry away from her and the guards who patrolled the corridors, protecting you from... whatever threats may come. For now, nobody sought to end your life, so you were considered safe.

That brings us to step number two. Develop several abilities to ensure your survival.

Fortunately, King Kim Seokjin and a portion of his army were absent. Rumor had it that he had journeyed to another city to attend to some matters, and his return date remained uncertain. Thus, Cheorin had not yet encountered the king, providing you with a window of opportunity, which you intended to exploit.

Your main plan was to run away at the first opportunity. Maybe since the king was away, this could be the perfect time to escape, but because you were so bad at surviving—I mean… you died while throwing up, you've decided to learn how to make the most of your advantage, which was knowing the damn plot.

So, you would take a horse and go far, far away, to a land where people couldn’t recognize you and start all over. But Kim Taehee was no better than you at survival skills. You didn’t know how to plow the land to harvest food so that you wouldn’t starve. You didn’t know how to use a bow to hunt animals and eat their meat. You wouldn’t even talk about your fighting skills—completely null. And lastly, you couldn't even ride a horse. Basically, you were doomed. But at least you had a little bit of time.

Learning how to ride a horse was supposedly the easiest step, yet you couldn't get the hang of it. In your previous life, you've only seen horses from afar, and the thought of riding one terrified you. Hoseok, the stable boy, was nice enough to teach you the basics of it, but that was it. So, every day, at dawn, you would go wandering through the halls, playing hide and seek with the guards and maids trying to find you in the ornate maze. Then, you would go to pester Hoseok during the rest of the day before a guard would come to take you back to your chambers. At first, it felt monotonous, solely preparing for an escape from impending death. However, as the days passed, a peculiar camaraderie blossomed between you and him. You would bring him sweets from your food, and he would make small talk with you.

It became a routine between both of you. You would attack his weak point, which was feeding him with food, and he would entertain you the whole day. Such interactions were clearly frowned upon in this fabricated society, where unmarried men and women were discouraged from speaking with each other, especially when involving a royal concubine. Consequently, Hoseok maintained a serious facade while sharing tales of his family and anecdotes from the town where he grew up—a territory located a week's ride away, all this while eating sugary treats that were previously hidden in your robes.

Befriending him was no coincidence. You deliberately sought him, seeking his company and winning him over with sweets, mainly because it was part of the plot in one of the alternative routes. Cheorin would make friends with him and in return, he would show her a hidden gap to come and go from the palace grounds whenever she wanted. You were pretty sure you could find it on your own, but having Hoseok as an ally and as a friend was a plus; he was charming and entertaining.

Currently, as the midday sun cast its warm golden glow upon the palace, inside a small chamber adjacent to the stables, Hoseok sat on a worn wooden stool, crumbs from the cake he was munching littering the ground around him, both of you watching a couple of birds digging the soil with their beaks, enjoying a momentary respite from the bustling palace. The room exuded an earthy scent, a mixture of hay and the faint aroma of horses. Sparse beams of sunlight pierced through the cracks in the wooden walls, creating dancing patterns on the dirt floor.

As he took another bite of the cake, savoring its sweetness, you watched in fascination as his eyes closed momentarily, relishing the flavors that danced on his tongue. Hoseok was very diligent with his work, waking up at dawn and tending to the animals with such care that you somehow envied his life. He even made such an ordinary life look so appealing. It seemed… so simple. That was a faraway dream of yours.

A gentle breeze rustled through the bamboo grove nearby, causing the slender stalks to sway gracefully, their leaves whispering in harmony. The rhythmic sound provided a soothing backdrop to your conversation.

"So, Hoseok," you began, your voice carrying a note of curiosity, "tell me more about your family. How did they end up in the capital city?"

He leaned back, brushing his fingers off, his touch leaving behind a faint residue of sugar on his pants. His gaze turned distant as he reminisced. "My father was a skilled healer, sought after by many in our hometown. When news reached the king's ears of his abilities, he was summoned to the capital to serve the royal family. My mother and siblings accompanied him, eager for a better life and the opportunities the city promised."

"They say the king spares no expense when it comes to the well-being of his family and those in his service," you remarked, a hint of fake admiration lacing your words.

Hoseok nodded, his expression reflecting both gratitude and exhaustion. "Indeed, the king is generous. He has provided us with a comfortable home and ensured that we lack nothing. But the demands of the palace are rigorous, and the work can be taxing."

As you took a moment to observe Hoseok's weary countenance, a newfound appreciation for him emerged. The lustrous sheen of sweat on Hoseok's forehead mirrored the dedication and labor required to maintain the horses and care for the palace's stable. You almost felt bad for what you were about to ask him.

"You work tirelessly," you continued, a touch of empathy coloring your words. "The horses must be well-cared for, as they are integral to the smooth functioning of the palace. It's no small responsibility."

Silence settled between you, punctuated only by the distant chirping of birds and the steady rhythm of the horses' hooves nearby. Hoseok's eyes met yours, his gaze unwavering. "I feel deeply honored by your compliments; however, it is uncommon for you to engage in such dialogue... Might there be something that requires my attention?"

As you contemplated your next question, the air grew cooler, carrying a refreshing breeze that offered respite from the day's heat. The sounds of distant laughter and muffled conversations drifted towards you, reminding you of the palace's constant hum of activity.

"Hoseok," you finally spoke, breaking the silence, "what do you dream of beyond these walls?"

"I beg your pardon, but I’m afraid I do not understand."

"Be honest with me. When your duties are done and the sun sets, what do you yearn for?"

"…Freedom," he said cautiously, his voice carrying a hint of longing. "To explore the vast lands beyond the palace, to witness the beauty of nature untouched by the hands of man. I dream of a life where I can ride through open fields, unburdened by the weight of responsibility. Don’t get me wrong, I’m deeply thankful to His Majesty and all that he’s done for my family and me… But being here was not a dream of mine."

Your heart swelled with empathy, realizing that beneath different circumstances, your desires aligned. Clad in a vibrant hanbok that accentuated your delicate features, you leaned against a wooden pillar. Your eyes, a mixture of curiosity and concern, never wavered from Hoseok's face. You could feel the weight of your request pressing upon you, a mixture of desperation and determination driving your desire to step beyond the palace walls. Your palms, slightly moist from a combination of nerves and the humid summer air, rested gently against the silk fabric of your hanbok.

A moment of contemplation passed before you spoke, your voice carrying a hint of vulnerability laced with resolve. "You are being very honest, and I respect that. So, I think it would be fair if I spoke with the same honesty as you."

Summoning your strength, you looked into Hoseok's eyes, your voice quivering with a blend of desperation and sincerity. "I need your help," you began, the words hanging delicately in the air. "You are the only one on this grounds that I can trust... And I'm really sorry for asking this. I want to— No, I need you to help me go outside the palace."

Hoseok's expression transformed, a myriad of emotions flickering across his face. Concern etched deep lines upon his forehead, while empathy softened the corners of his eyes. His hands clenched the wooden stool, his grip tightening as he absorbed the weight of your words.

Silence settled between you, pregnant with unspoken thoughts and uncharted possibilities.

Finally, Hoseok exhaled, the breath escaping his lips carrying with it a mixture of understanding and resolve. He met your gaze, his eyes reflecting a newfound determination. "You speak of trust, and I understand the weight of such words," he replied, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of trepidation. "In this world of secrets and hidden agendas, finding someone to confide in is a rare gift. Your sincerity does not go unnoticed, and I appreciate your honesty."

A surge of relief washed over you, a glimmer of hope rekindling within your heart.

"My Lady... I understand your longing for freedom, but you must know the risks we face. The palace guards and watchmen are ever vigilant, their eyes trained to detect any suspicious activity. Should they discover our secret, the consequences could be dire."

You nodded, a knot forming in your stomach as the gravity of your request settled upon you once again. "Hoseok, I know this is a lot to ask," you began, your voice laced with genuine remorse. "But I have no other choice. I cannot bear the confines of this palace any longer. There is a world waiting for me, waiting for us. I’m… I’m not going forever. I just want to see the outside for a little while. Being here it’s boring me to death. Without Seokjin… I think I might lose my head.”

Hoseok's expression grew pensive, his eyes searching yours for any trace of doubt or hidden motives. The summer breeze carried with it the scent of blooming flowers, mingling with the anticipation and uncertainty that hung in the air.

He sighed, a mixture of understanding and concern etched across his face. "I sense the desperation in your words, the yearning for something more. But stepping beyond these palace walls is not a decision to be taken lightly. There are dangers, both seen and unseen, that could threaten your life. Are you truly prepared for it?"

Your heart tightened with a mixture of gratitude and urgency, knowing that Hoseok's honesty held the key to your shared destiny. You straightened your posture, a determined resolve shining through your eyes as you met his gaze, unyielding. "Yes, I understand the risks," you replied, your voice steady despite the swirl of emotions within. "But remaining within this palace, confined to a fate chosen for me, is a fate worse than any threat that may lie beyond."

You could see the struggle within Hoseok's expression, torn between duty and the allure of liberation. Your request was no small matter, and his involvement would undoubtedly jeopardize his own safety. The weight of the decision hung in the air, the silence stretching between you like a tangible force.

As the seconds ticked by, you silently implored the universe for a sign—a glimmer of affirmation that would solidify your bond and sway Hoseok's heart.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Hoseok's face softened, his guarded expression giving way to a flicker of determination. His voice, though still tinged with caution, held a newfound resolve. "This wall is not impenetrable," he speaks in a hushed tone, his eyes scanning the area for any prying eyes. "The hidden hollow you seek lies within the palace grounds, concealed by overgrown vines and bushes. It is a place forgotten by time, where whispers of the past echo amidst the shadows."

You had to admit, the way everyone spoke so... eloquently was kinda annoying. Very annoying. Instead of going straight to the point, everyone spoke in riddles. Luckily, for you, you already had an idea of where that damn hollow was located, but still. You absorbed every word, committing the description to memory. It was just the beginning of your plan after all, the key to unlocking a world where you could be more than just a pawn in a game.

Hoseok, his voice filled with a mixture of resolve and trepidation, continued, "Remember, Taehee, time is our ally, and impatience can be our downfall. You must find the opportune moment to carry out this clandestine venture when the palace guards are distracted and the gaze of suspicion averted."

Clasping your hands together, you took a step closer to Hoseok, the gap between you narrowing.

"Don't worry about it. I just know the perfect time."

 

—

 

As you cautiously made your way through the palace grounds, the moon cast a soft glow upon the intricate architecture that surrounded you. The palace walls stood tall and imposing, your footsteps echoing on the wooden pathway, reverberating through the quiet night. With each step, you could feel the weight of your decision pressing upon you. The palace, with its grandeur and opulence, seemed to hold secrets within its very stones, secrets that whispered tales of power, intrigue, and untold stories.

Taking a deep breath to steady your racing heart, you squeezed through the unguarded opening, the rough stone grazing against your skin. The overgrown vines and thorny bushes seemed to guard the secret passage, as if warning you of the risks that lay beyond. The world outside awaited you, its vastness and possibilities calling to your adventurous spirit. You emerged into a realm untouched by the rigid rules of palace life, where freedom danced on the whispering breeze.

Stepping into the wilderness beyond the palace walls, you found yourself enveloped by a symphony of nature's sounds. The first steps beyond the palace walls were hesitant yet filled with a newfound exhilaration. The forest was alive with nocturnal creatures, their rustlings and calls forming an orchestra of life. Moonlight filtered through the dense foliage, casting ethereal patterns on the forest floor, illuminating your path as you ventured further into the unknown.

The air was thick with the scent of damp earth, moss, and decaying leaves, and the soft rustling of wildlife echoed through the trees. Your senses heightened, and you became acutely aware of the soft caress of a gentle breeze against your skin, carrying with it a sense of liberation and the promise of a new beginning

Lost in the wilderness, your excitement soon gave way to a flicker of apprehension. You realized the enormity of your decision, the uncertainty that lay ahead. Doubt gnawed at you, threatening to dim your resolve.

“It’s just the first step, just the first”, you whispered to yourself, paranoid from the lack of light, and even more afraid that someone could spot you in the middle of the night, which would crumble all your machiavellian plans. So, without thinking twice, you started to wander deeper into the forest, the path becoming increasingly obscured. The pale moonlight filtered through the canopy, casting intricate patterns on the forest floor. Shadows danced and swayed, giving life to the stillness of the night. The occasional hoot of an owl echoed through the trees, as if guiding you further into the heart of the mysterious wilderness.

You continued your solitary journey, following the winding path that disappeared and reappeared like a mystical thread woven by nature itself. The forest seemed to hold its breath, as if keeping its secrets close to its chest. The occasional gentle breeze whispered through the leaves, caressing your face and bringing with it a hint of earthy fragrance.

The forest swallowed you whole, and the familiar landmarks of the palace were left far behind. The path, now barely discernible, meandered aimlessly through the undergrowth, leading you deeper into its embrace.

As the forest grew denser, your progress slowed. Thorny bushes and tangled roots obstructed your way, requiring careful navigation to avoid their grasp. Each step became a deliberate choice, as you weaved your way through the natural obstacles. A sense of vulnerability mingled with a sense of awe, reminding you of the insignificance of your presence in this vast wilderness.

As time passed by, fatigue began to take its toll, and your legs grew heavy. The only thing you wanted to do by going outside, was to become familiar with the nearby grounds, so it would make it easier to escape once the time arrived. Your job here was done, but just as you contemplated turning back, the faint sound of trickling water reached your ears. A renewed sense of purpose surged within you, and you followed the sound, eager to discover the source of the hidden creek.

With each step, the sound grew louder, resonating through the trees like a soothing lullaby. The undergrowth cleared, revealing a picturesque scene that seemed plucked from a fairy tale. The creek, adorned with sparkling ripples, flowed gently between moss-covered rocks. Moonlight bathed the scene in a mystical glow, casting shimmering reflections upon the water's surface.

You approached the creek cautiously, drawn to its serene beauty. The water, crystal clear and inviting, beckoned you to its embrace. You knelt down at its edge, dipping your hand into the coolness. The sensation sent a refreshing wave through your weary body, invigorating your spirit.

You stood immobile for a second, thinking about the absurdity of everything. "God, this is really cliché. And now what?"

As the midnight hour enveloped the forest in an air of mystery, a shiver of fear coursed through your veins. Each rustle of leaves, each hoot of an owl, felt like a piercing reminder of the danger that lurked in the shadows. You moved cautiously, acutely aware of the consequences of being caught wandering beyond the palace grounds.

Suddenly, through the dense foliage, a figure emerged, silhouetted against the moonlit backdrop. It was not a bandit that stood before you, but a royal guard, clad in a resplendent uniform that spoke of duty and authority. His regal presence commanded attention, every inch of him radiating discipline and vigilance. The polished armor clung to his form, glinting dully in the faint moonlight, a shield against any threat that dared to challenge the palace. His eyes, sharp and watchful, locked onto you, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. There was a flicker of surprise in his gaze, quickly masked by a stern expression. The muscles in his jaw tightened as he assessed the situation, his grip on the hilt of his sword betraying his readiness to defend.

He assesses you carefully, his voice carrying a subtle undertone of threat as he inquires, "Your Majesty?"

Oh shit.

"S-Sir, uh, you have mistaken my identity. I am merely an ordinary peasant," you wince, regretting the immediate response that left a bitter taste in your mouth. His eyes become fixated on your hanbok, the opulent fabric reserved for noble individuals. You force a smile, delicately brushing off imaginary dust from your robes. "I should not be present here. I sincerely apologize," you offer, hoping to alleviate the escalating tension.

He pauses, his gaze lingering upon you intently. "Wait," he interjects, a tinge of curiosity resonating in his voice. "Shouldn't there be someone guarding you? It seems unlikely that you are a mere peasant. Your appearance suggests a more distinguished position, possibly that of a concubine."

Your eyes narrow slightly in surprise at his perceptive remark. "And what if I was?" you challenged, a hint of defiance lacing your voice.

He chuckles softly, a mocking undertone underscoring his words. "With your audacious tongue? If you were truly insignificant, you would have met your demise already. Rumors suggest the emperor possesses ruthless tendencies. He would not hesitate to make an example of you if you dared to address him in such a manner. However, your striking beauty might be the reason you remain unscathed," he muses, his gaze scanning your face. "He did this to your pretty face?" he asks, his fingers twitching as if tempted to reach out, gesturing towards the fading mark of violence on your face—a testament to your beloved brother's actions.

A surge of anger pulsed through you, and you instinctively took a step back, asserting your boundaries. "Do not dare lay a hand on me. He would never inflict such harm," you emphasize, your voice resonating with a blend of defiance and conviction. Yet, a sliver of doubt manages to creep into your words.

"Hmm. Your certainty seems wavering," he retorts, a hint of skepticism tainting his tone. There is an undeniable air of unpredictability surrounding him, a constant reminder of the peril he represents.

Aware of the precariousness of your situation, you urged him to step aside. "Please, allow me to pass. I am certain that there are those who seek my presence at this very moment."

"As you wish," he replies, stepping back slightly but still blocking your path.

Just as you're about to push past him, tension heavy in the air, another figure materialized, seemingly from out of nowhere. A young man stepped into the clearing, his presence commanding attention despite his modest attire. The simplicity of his cotton garb and unadorned appearance marked him as a commoner, a world away from the opulence of the palace. Yet, there was an undeniable aura of strength about him, as if his soul carried the weight of untold stories. His gaze met yours, wariness flickering in his dark eyes. His broad shoulders and powerful thighs hinted at physical prowess honed through labor and discipline. In the depths of his inky hair and the warmth of his tanned skin, there was a raw magnetism that defied societal boundaries. There was a wariness in his gaze, as if he had stumbled upon a scene he hadn't anticipated. He calls out, interrupting the tense standoff. "Taehee?"

Quickly, an idea flickered in your mind, an impulsive gamble to diffuse the tension that crackled in the air. His presence brought a flicker of hope. With a mixture of relief and apprehension, you seized upon the opportunity to redirect the situation.

"Oh, there you are. My escort guard," you spoke with a tinge of relief, the words dripping with false reassurance.

He bowed respectfully, acknowledging your supposed status. "My Lady." The moonlight played upon the slope of his nose, highlighting the handsome features that seemed to belong to another time. At that moment, you couldn't help but feel a strange connection to him, a bond forged in the midst of uncertainty.

With an unwavering gaze, you address the guard in a tone that conveys both authority and a touch of impatience. "I appreciate your concern, but I assure you, I am perfectly capable of finding my way back to where I belong. Now, kindly step aside and allow me to continue on my path."

The guard hesitates, his eyes narrowing as he evaluates your words and demeanor. After a tense moment, he relents slightly, stepping aside to grant you a narrow passage. "Very well," he concedes, a glimmer of respect underlying his tone. "But do not think for a moment that my watchful eyes won't be upon you. Should any irregularities arise, the consequences shall fall upon your shoulders."

Acknowledging his warning with a nod, you gracefully move past him, striding purposefully toward your intended destination. The guard's gaze follows you, still filled with a measure of skepticism and curiosity, leaving the air tinged with a sense of lingering intrigue.

"It was a pleasure meeting you," you add, talking to the flabbergasted guard, masking your rage with a veil of sarcasm. Grasping the stranger elbow’s, you pulled him closer, silently urging him to play along. The stranger seemed momentarily taken aback, his eyes widening with surprise, but he quickly regained his composure and fell into step beside you. Together, you navigated the treacherous terrain, the dense thicket obscuring your path. The forest seemed to conspire against you, intertwining branches and casting long shadows that danced in the moonlight. The urgency in your steps grew, fueled by the fear of being discovered, your pulse pounding in your ears like a war drum.

"I'm sorry. I got nervous, and this was the first thing that came into my mind," you confessed after a few minutes of silence to your unexpected companion, stealing a glance at him. You studied his face, your gaze filled with a mix of curiosity and concern. He was really handsome. "You know my name, and yet you seem surprised that I led you here. Do I know you?" You inquired, a hint of curiosity and confusion creeping into your voice.

He stops abruptly, his gaze searching yours, a puzzled look that quickly gets masked under stoicism, “Jeon Jungkook. Do you… you don't remember me?”

Your heart skips a beat. Of course you remember Jeon Jungkook. Well, not really. Not you, right now, as Kim Taehee. But you remember him from the game. After all, he is the one who ultimately kills you on the main route.

How convenient is it to cross paths with the person you should be avoiding at any cost? Jeon Jungkook is not a merely guard in service of the king, he is basically his right hand, his best friend, and the most fucking skilled swordsman in the entire fake country. He was not appointed as the general of the imperial army just because Seokjin used him as a… you know, someone who does illegal things in the name of the royal crown. A savage, merciless man, blood thirst for revenge and whatever Seokjin tells him to do. At the end of the main route, he ends up killing Kim Taehee, beheading her in front of everybody, and then they all cheer and celebrate and everybody gets their happily ever after. You should be running away from him, and put as much space as you could between the two of you, but how could you do it? If the devil himself seems to be on a first-name basis with you and also has the eyes of a baby deer.

It’s not fair at all.

Torn between the desire to reveal your true connection and the weight of secrecy that still bounds you, you try to collect yourself.

"Jungkook," you whisper softly, savoring the sound of his name. "That name doesn't ring a bell, sorry. But we must be very close if you call me by my given name. I have to apologize, ever since the accident, it's like… like if I was a different person. I can't remember much," you confessed, your voice tinged with a mixture of fear and frustration.

His expression reflected a blend of disappointment and understanding, a delicate dance between the familiarity of the past and the uncertainty of the present. "Uh, yes... I understand," he replied, his voice filled with a mix of empathy and a longing to bridge the gaps of your fragmented memory. “I am nothing more than a guard in service to the king,” he lies, his eyes searching yours for a hint of recognition. A bittersweet pang tugged at your heart as you met his gaze. Memories threatened to surface, but they remained just beyond your grasp, lost in the fog of forgotten moments.

You remain silent, the path before you growing narrower, the overgrown vegetation threatening to impede your progress. You reached out a hand to steady yourself against a sturdy tree trunk, feeling the rough bark beneath your fingertips. "We must tread carefully," you cautioned, your eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger.

Jungkook's gaze remained fixed on you, his expression a mix of concern and admiration. "My Lady, if I may ask... what led you to venture into the forest alone?" he inquired, his voice filled with genuine curiosity.

A flicker of vulnerability passed across your features, momentarily breaking the façade of regality. There was no point in telling a lie. "I needed a respite from the suffocating constraints of palace life," you confessed, your voice tinged with a hint of longing. "To experience the freedom that lies beyond those gilded walls. And I can't do that in daylight."

Understanding filled Jungkook's eyes as he nodded in empathy. "I can only imagine the weight of your responsibilities," he murmured, his voice gentle. "But please know that you are not alone in this. I am here by your side, ready to face whatever challenges may come."

After a while, curiosity got the better of you, and you couldn't help but inquire about Jungkook's sudden appearance earlier. "How did you find me, Jungkook?" you ask, your tone gentle yet filled with intrigue.

He paused for a moment, his steps slowing as he collected his thoughts. "I happened to be passing through these woods on an errand when I heard voices," he began, his eyes never leaving the path ahead. "I couldn't ignore the possibility that someone might be in danger, so I followed the sound. Little did I expect to stumble upon Your Highness in such a precarious situation."

A mixture of awe and gratitude filled your heart as you regarded Jungkook. "It seems the heavens themselves conspired to bring us together," you mused sarcastically, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook's gaze met yours, a flicker of warmth and understanding shining in his eyes. "There is an undeniable bond between us, My Lady," he admitted, his voice filled with a rare vulnerability. "In this uncertain world, I promise to protect you with my life and stand by your side, should you wish it."

"Okay, so, Jungkook," you continue, redirecting the conversation to the urgency of your situation. It was getting really awkward. "Could you please take me back to the palace grounds? I got lost," you implored, hoping that his presence would guide you safely through the labyrinth of uncertainty.

Jungkook nodded, a determined look crossing his face. "I will do whatever it takes to ensure your safety, My Lady," he vows, his voice filled with unwavering resolve. "Even if it means stepping into unfamiliar territory and facing the unknown."

You glance at him, a glimmer of amusement dancing in your eyes. "Indeed, fate has a way of surprising us," you replied, your voice tinged with a hint of mischief. "But I have faith in my ability to adapt and play the role."

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #bts fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #fanfic #jk

[csuitebitches]

On Being Resilient

It’s very important that you know and understand the importance of being resilient. It’s easy to say you’re strong when you’re obviously not.

I feel that sometimes the whole “fake it till you make it” culture has some clear problems with it.

The problem with culture like that is that your external doesn’t match the internal. So even if you look confident, you won’t feel it, and you won’t exude real confidence. While such a tactic is a great short term method, it’s not healthy for the long term - you are going to have to address those issues.

When you look up online on how to build resilience, you’ll see a flux of similar things. Positive thinking. Positive friends. Relax. Breathe.

I’m sorry if I disrespect any of those authors - but quite frankly, I find it a little bullshit-y.

So let me share with you things I’ve actually learned, tried and tested on my path to being resilient. That doesn’t mean that I’m 100% resilient.

But bear in mind that I was an overly sensitive child, very emotional teenager - and now in my 20s, I don’t get affected by situations to that extent. And I’ve stopped victimising myself, another plus.

As usual. If this doesn’t work for you, I’m sorry. This is not a cookie-cut template. It’s better for you to be inspired by this and recreate your own rather than follow it exactly so. But do what you feel is best.

•••

1. I started by creating a SWOT analysis of myself.

- S- Strengths: skills, values you have, good habits, what you can offer to people in terms of skills (both corporate life and personal life). Examples: honesty, problem solver, marketing, drawing, Excel, etc.

- W- weaknesses: things you know you’re not good at, both private life and corporate life. Examples: impatient, temper issues, programming (I hate it lol), paying attention for a long time, bad relationships etc.

- O- opportunities: what are incoming opportunities? Club memberships, conferences, job offers, career changes, online courses, etc. if you don’t have any, CREATE them. Go online and look for networking events. Go on coursera/ EdX and find a course you want to actually do.

- T- Threats: What obstacles are coming your way? For instance, your plate may be full. Or you have to compete for a job. Examples : being obtrusive, having competition, being a perfectionist, etc.

•••

2. Next, I took a couple of days to really go over the SWOT. You have to be honest with yourself. Fully. No one else will see it but you. You could even go around and ask your closest friends and family what they think are your best and worst qualities.

•••

3. Next, I took a mental resilience test online, because I realised that I wanted to quantify my data. It’s easier to improve when there’s a number visible to you. I used this: click here.

They score you on four factors:

* Motivation

* Concentration

* Coping With Pressure

* Confidence

•••

4. After seeing my score and analysing it properly, I decided to etch out a game plan for each factor. Here’s a sample:

- Motivation:

* setting smaller goals in order to succeed

* Accepting failure and moving on fast

* Asking for feedback on performance (work, school, organisations)

* Working on things that give me satisfaction

- concentration:

* using brain games such as Elevate and Mental Math to improve focus

* Reading more

* Trying different things at work/ school to remain focused (some people work best around other people. Some people work best alone. Some prefer noise, white noise or silence. Figuring this out really helps).

- Coping with pressure

* making quicker decisions (I used to take forever to make decisions because my emotions would come in the way. Now I stick to a simple pros and cons list and it helps me a lot).

* Being able to deal with adversity. Two things come in play here - a) learning from other people’s mistakes (ted talks, videos, your boss, parents, friends etc) b) learning from your own mistakes. Put yourself in micro situations - such as choosing where to eat with your friends or partner (not always, mind you - but stop being indecisive when they are too!), take on responsibility at work, etc.

- Confidence

* You need to believe that you will succeed.

* For me, setting mini goals a week is the most effective. Areas: Home (laundry, cleaning, etc), Self (homework, exercise, meditation, habits, learning new things), Environment (social life, work life, friends, family).

* I use a free habit tracker “Habit” (pink icon in the App Store) to track my 6 daily habits.

•••

4. Resilience comes with progress. It comes slowly. There will be setbacks. There will be issues. There are often times when, in a fit of emotion, we forget about resilience and get carried away in our situation. You need to realise this. You need to remind yourself to be resilient every single day. Say it out loud or write it down or set a reminder, I don’t care. But you need it at the back of your brain.

You’ll face all sorts of situations to show your resilience. Maybe a team member isn’t doing their part in a project. Maybe a friend of yours is adamant in you doing a certain thing with them. Maybe your family has some expectation of you that you’re not interested in achieving.

Resilience doesn’t mean aggression. It doesn’t mean anger. It means being tactful, calm, level headed but firm. It means that you don’t fake-compliment to make someone feel nice (occasionally it’s necessary if a friend or something is really down). It means you convey your genuine opinions about something and not necessarily agree with the majority.

#c suite #powerful woman #ceo aesthetic #personal growth #that girl #productivity #strong women #getting your life together #feminine energy #balance #resilience #staying strong #boundaries #saying no #fake it till you make it #fake it til ya make it #being strong #self aware #growth #self growth #routines #growing up #adulting #being more mature #mature #that girl aesthetic #boss girl #boss lady #boss babe #mental health

[lakesbian]

what do u think of rose sr's childhood/backstory. any ideas on how or why she became such a cunt

most obviously there's the fact that she made a minor severe mistake when she was like 16 and locked herself into being unable to let her children become practitioners without demons and beasts and so on immediately kersploding her. which means she, y'know, can't train them to be ready to deal with The Horrors of the debt, which means she has to spend her entire life dealing with The Horrors by herself + trying to set things up so that the family can catch up on the training they would've otherwise gotten after she dies with as few casualties as possible. which means she had to spend her entire life being a miserable (literally speaking regarding her emotional state) cunt who couldn't be honest about why she was a miserable cunt but couldn't be dishonest about it either. you too would be a cunt if you couldn't white lie. devastating: local woman legally bound into being a cunt lest The Horrors happen to her and her fambily. something fun thematically speaking about. like.

blake and his grandma are both naively insistent and furious about Not Participating In The Cycle--rose via insistence on not dragging her family into the cycle, blake via insistence on not being dragged into it

similar traits & mistakes (impulsivity, quick to anger and make Magic Mistakes when angry (her oath, his insulting padraic & co), the tendency to lash out towards family over The Cycle...there's probably more but i'm tired)

rose (mirror) being named after rose (cunt) and blake literally being rose, the similar traits, rose (cunt) going I hate The Cycle I won't let The Cycle happen & then being screwed six ways from sunday over her attempt to lash out in anger against said cycle, blake also lashing out in anger against The Cycle...he is intent on Doing This Thing for a variety of reasons, but i think the pieces are still in place 4 a little parallel where he's faaar more like his grandma than he thinks and he's also going to be screwed six ways from sunday for it ♥ you've heard of boys who desperately don't want to turn into their fathers but wear their shoes at times anyways (brian, alec) get ready for boy (adult man) who desperately doesn't want to turn into his Grandmother (but probably will)

anyway. i am sooo tired this post is losing steam but i think beyond the most surface layer of "she's a cunt because she's legally fucking bound to be lmao" there's the whole childhood trauma that the inherited Literal horrors serve as blatant metaphor for. being an old ass woman born in the early 1900s when violent physical abuse is the normal response to your child fucking up will in fact turn you into sort of a cunt. i think her character is in a way very reminiscent of that one type of old person that's intent on being better than their family before them but can't--literally, in her case--honestly/accurately communicate their experiences or emotions to their family and just sort of stumbles around brusquely trying to do their best for them without explanation. like she's very used to the parents being de facto the bad guys that know what's best 2 protect their children from the external horrors whose decisions (which are often internal horrors seen as better than the external horrors) just have 2 be suffered thru by the kids 4 their supposed ultimate wellbeing. so she does that. cycle still has a hold on her despite her attempts to save her family from some of it because no one person can shake the family legacy. books that are about the horrors of family legacy Grabbing You and not letting go no matter what you do. and she cannot articulate any of this because no one in her position knows how to articulate it, because she Literally Due To Magic Metaphor can't articulate it. am i explaining this coherently at all. i dunno i'm just endeared to her character writing so far i think she serves rlly well as a poster child 4 the way cycles of trauma glom onto you & subsequently as smth for blake to be compared to as he becomes the new poster child. it's a good book!

#ask #pact time #pactblr #hipactblr i finished arc 1 o fmy liveblog. hi come here

[lake-archive]

Chapter 9 - Irritation

AO3 Link

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Characters (main): Eula Lawrence, Ann von Lupus (OC) (mentioned), Amber (mentioned)

Series: They Say I Shouldn't, But...

Pairing: Eulann (Eula/Ann)

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

One dinner later, days passed and things became… Not better. Not at all. Far from it. One would think that it would be easier to be honest but Eula could not say that at all. In fact, the thoughts had only gotten worse. 

The conversation at good Hunter had not been that bad. Ann, was it? The only daughter of the Von Lupus family. Never had she expected to run into the young woman in the first place. And Eula had no idea either. But it was what it was in the end. And the two had been talking for a good while, maybe a little too long. They had even forgotten about Amber, only realizing at the end of this dinner that she had been present to begin with. She told both of them to not worry about it of course with her usual smile yet that didn’t exactly help the guilt… As short lived as it was to be honest.

Because things only became more and more irritating since and Eula just couldn’t wrap her head around it. She had a hard time concentrating and the training dummies had to be the sacrifice, being sliced into pieces one by one each day. She claimed to ‘blow off some steam’ and it wasn’t exactly wrong. It was that and her trying to sort out her own thoughts. But nothing was working. Brute force was obviously not the answer but it was frustrating the knight beyond belief. She was even more of a mess by the day, some of her men had taken note and called her out on it. But she said the same thing to them everytime. “ I’m fine! ”

The same response over and over, that she was fine. Just fine. Even if she wasn’t, her mind wandered around all day long. And it all went back to the same girl, to Ann. Why her? What was this nonsense? Eula didn’t get it! She was about to have a headache the more she was thinking about it. It made her all dizzy. Maybe she was wasting too much thought into something which didn’t matter in the end. Yeah, it was probably just that. It didn’t matter, at all. And yet… Yet…

All she did was let out a sudden scream, followed up by: “I have to make her pay! Pay pay pay! This isn’t funny anymore!” And before knowing it several training dummies were sent flying, one after the other, landing as they were being torn into pieces. It was a sight to behold, to say the least, and even Eula may have been impressed that she was able to pull off something like this. Even if it was honestly expected of her at this rate, given her position within the knights themselves. This dinner was a mistake! A big mistake! Not because it went horribly, far from it…

Why can’t she just forget? Actually, why was this even happening to begin with? It didn’t make any sense and was just driving her insane, right against a wa— Wait, no. She shouldn’t even make that comparison, given that she had literally driven Ann against a wall that one time. But what else was Eula supposed to think? If she was a mess like this… She had to sort this out as quickly as possible or it might affect her performance.

As for the reasoning… It was embarrassing to admit but she had asked Amber for that one time. Mainly because the fellow knight had been around at the time of dinner and seen it all. And Eula had no one else to turn to to begin with. Who’d listen to her of all people anyway!? And even then, Amber’s suggestion was something outlandish for the woman’s very own ears. It was something she couldn’t believe in all honesty. 

“Maybe you really like her.” Was the suggestion of the Outrider, saying this with no hesitation. And at that time Eula had just looked at Amber in utter shock, as if she just had been hit with the most outrageous claim there ever had been. And yet, it hit, but she wasn’t exactly sure why.

“Have I ever said that I actually dislike her?” She had asked, just to make sure. No, like can mean many things. Like is like. Just like. Nothing more. Yeah, maybe that was just that. Just like. Like. Like. Like like like. Li–

“Haha, of course not. But think about it. You say you think about Ann a lot ever since, right?”

“What’s your point?”

“Hmm… You’re like one of the protagonists in a romance novel!”

“Romance wha—”

“Ah, I just mean it as a maybe! I mean think about how Ann makes you feel, alright?”

That was the advice Eula had gotten. How this woman made her feel… How she felt? Well, the knight couldn’t think straight for one. Literally. And it was confusing. One headache after the other and yet, she didn’t dislike the girl. In fact, maybe—

Ah no! No no no! What was Eula even entertaining here!? What type of thought was this!? Was she taking Amber seriously here!? Because there is just no way at all! Eula being in love with someone like Ann!? That’s just nonsense!

Right, not in love… And she made sure to hold onto that stubborn belief for as long as possible. There was just no way after all… Right?

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

#Nimue's Lake #They say I shouldn't but... #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #self ship fanfic #selfship fic #self ship #self shipping #self ship community #selfship community #f/o x s/i #genshin fic #genshin fanfic #genshin oc #genshin impact oc #genshin impact #eula lawrence #genshin eula #genshin amber #amber genshin impact #Vengeance Seeking Love #Eulann

[mcl38]

How will chokedo fuck it this weekend?

get outwualified and outperformed by a rookie?

get track limits penalty?

get involved in a first lap incident?

all of the above?

obsessed w this poem actually

1. the composite word neologism of 'chokedo' places us firmly in the tradition of tongue-in-cheek, provocative poetry, typical of the 21st century

2. 'fuck it' instead of fuck it up is brilliantly ambiguous in its succintness. it's almost like the speaker is reaching towards the platonic ideal of 'fuck it up' but cant reach it, hand perpetually outstretched as they seek solidity in the epistemologic uncertainty of the future. theres also the implication of sexuality in it but so subtle its almost freudian

3. outwualified im not sure if its a typo or an ingenious way to bring back the bwoken meme but either way its SO fascinatingly tought-provoking. it hints at age regression, going backwards in time (reinforced by the mention of the 'rookie'), but is also more literally a tiny mistake in an otherwise correctly spelled word, possibly a physical representation of the image the author is trying to paint: a single mistake rendering a qualifying lap worthy of ridicule

4. we all know track limits result in your lap being deleted rather than a penalty, but i think so does the author - they just choose to lump them all in at once, foregoing the indefinite article 'a' on purpose, to express the desperation of the speaker in their ill-will wishing. they won't be satisfied with one misfortune, they want track limits - penalty - it all. the factual error also invites the reader to question the soundness of their argument more generally, implying that perhaps the speaker themselves is subconsciously aware of the unlikely nature of their wish

5. the fourth line is where the repetition of the word 'get' starts to become especially poignant. the rule of 3 has a long history of association with magic and curses, not least of all referencing macbeth's three witches. the wishes written out as questions, all employing the same repeated formula, start to almost feel like a chant, a spellcasting. the 'get' is also ambiguous in its grammatical displacement. not attached to a verb construction like 'will get' or a subject like 'will lando / he get', the word exists basically in semantic homelessness. it floats at the beginning of the lines in a tantalisingly incomplete lowercase, hinting at whatever is supposed to come before it but ultimately cannot come before it, because of the speakers underlying uncertainty that these things will even happen. or, read differently, the 'get' almost transforms into a vocative command, asking me, the reader, to 'get' it - to understand, to show compassion, empathy

6. 'first lap incident' is a wonderful little bit of intertextuality - it shows the speaker's awareness of past correspondence between myself and (i assume) them, where i pointed out that lando has never had any dnfs out of his own driver error. the remarkably neutral and blameless 'incident' reinforces the poem's tendency to contradict itself, portraying the speaker's conscious hate and subconscious admiration of the muse (lando) for his driver skill. the balance is so impressively delicate its almost seamless

7. all of the above is such a powerful ending to the poem - due to its strong association with exams and multiple choice forms, it seems to place the burden of proof and expectation of knowledge on the reader, absolving the speaker themselves of any responsibility. although the poem obviously uses the interrogative mode as its main medium, the 'all of the above?' at the end is pushes past the rhetorical and challenges the reader directly, seemingly the last and most important attempt to get the confrontational tone across

all in all i would say this poem is very reminiscent of chelsey minnis's brilliant 2007 collection of poetry 'bad bad', in which the speaker's disillusionment with the practice of poetry is positioned as an aggressive front to mask what is really unprocessed grief and love for her late mentor. there is definitely an undercurrent of that 2000s in-your-face defiant poetry in this text, which i think plays beautifully with the characteristically 2010s broken up loose lines. fortunately, despite the author being anonymous, we can date the poem pretty exactly to anywhere after the 2023 qatar gp and before the 2023 cota gp, and i would be quite comfortable to even make the conjunction that it was typed directly into my askbox. lastly, i would ask the anonymous poet to keep applying themselves to the craft, because they have a marvellously promising future in front of them

#lando #anon #ask #turns out eng lit degrees arent useless after all #this is time well spent i suppose #my magnum opus #lando norris #f1 #everyone witness my creation #mine #the lando hater