#bawling their eyes out for a role

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

the toxic masculine urge to be perfect and strong with no weaknesses

[dumpster-fire-sapphic-failgirl]

Crit Role really went “Hell yeah we also need a high production value anthology show where we can rotate in a bunch of super talented GMs and work with all the actors we’ve always wanted” and I love that for them

[meadowsofmay]

a mother.

a partner.

a goddess.

a peer.

a proud and merciful watcher.

a protector. an empress. an entity stretched too thin, reached so far and yet unable to find peace. doomed to stay, to be, to protect and guide and give and take from others and give and take from herself.

a character so strong and powerful yet so alone, so weak on the edge of century old insanity, not allowed to die or fall into an abyss.

i am so fond of iomene. she is such a humane entity, so different for each of the circle members and yet all those things are her. just like any human being is not just one thing, never one thing. and she is an entity centuries old, of an immense power and yet, so unabashedly human.

aabria iyengar, the woman — the creator — you are. i am taking my hat off and bowing my head, in a desire to express how impressed i am. jaw dropping, with each character resolution, impressed.

thank you.

[adventuretfox]

Oh boy do my insides feel trampled tonight

I'm so happy that Bells Hells have time to rebuild there bond again, more time to lay it all out and process shit, I can't believe Orym was doing his morning routine for the whole day

With time being an invisible count down to the end of the world, and every tit going up almost every minute since the beginning of the apogee solstice, the gang has had less and less time to breathe, its always been GO! GO! GO!

I was also caught up in the no time to process go go go

Ludinus is too powerful the team needs upgrades, go go go

Evil bitch that torments laudna is back, but she needs the power go go go

Ashton going nuclear with the shards because he needs to be strong and fixed, no time to rethink go go go

This episode was a slow down sign and everybody crashed nose first into it, and it feels so so so right

It feels right for Fearne to reject the shard because of her fear of her dark reflection, it feels right that the fire shard rejects Ashton and his selfishness turns the gang against him, it is so convenient for Delilah to manipulate and relapsed Laudna because of this event

It feels right that they can't pull it together for the moon mission and need time to address and hopefully heal this tear in there bonds as a team and as friends

What I'm trying to say is, I'm so excited for what Nana Mori and FCG are gonna plan for the scavenger hunt, cause I also really need that therapy episode too

[friend0fmara]

TALIESINNNNNNNNNNN

[happycattail]

So...based on everyone crying on my feed, there's more incentive than ever to catch up with CR huh?

[hollisofficial]

genuinely love general crozier of metalocalypse fame so much. hes such an interesting character who very obviously has a place in the plot but nobody seems to acknowledge him as a major character . i need to know more about him. frothing at the moutb

[deathdoesthings]

Im so behind on campaign 3 and i just watched part of episode 34 and im again reminded how Liam O'Brian will never fail at making me cry

[rightpastnowhere]

annnnnd finally, the last of the headcanons for @essayofthoughts !! sorry it’s taken five years lol

gwendolyn de rolo

sexuality headcanon: idk yet!! we only know her as a baby and i don’t really ever get vibes from kiddos. 

favorite ship(s): again!! idk!! we haven’t seen much of her other than that she’s precious, and idk who the kids her age are??? idk

brotp: i love the idea that she and vax ii are like,,, best friends. they seem to be the closest in age, so i imagine they’d grow up a bit closer than they are to the rest of the siblings. they seem to be the gentlest of the kiddos just from their demeanor in the portrait, so i imagine they’d just bond over being similar?? idk. i also think vesper is fiercely protective of gwen. she doesn’t face too much adversity - vex and percy and cass, too, make sure of that - but there’s a couple of assholes here and there, moreso when they travel. and vesper will just stick to gwen’s side - she’s got a lil bit of clout as the “angel-blessed de rolo”, and uses it to be more persuasive, or just as intimidation. no one gets to fuck with her baby siblings. 

notp: don’t ship her with her siblings?? i guess???? again, shipping opinions usually require more content for me to make

happy headcanon: she has a dream for a while as a kid of being a skyship pirate. this is after vex takes her up on the broom (it’s a tradition for the kids, they fly very slowly and very safely, percy designs a special seat for them), and takes gwen to see the skyship port that i think whitestone has idk (if not then they just see a skyship at some point. work with me here). and gwen, who’s already been on the cusp of a pirate phase, decides she wants to fly forever. and she wants to be a pirate because they sound so cool!!! but don’t worry, she’s gonna be a good pirate. the bestest pirate ever. she’s gonna go help people!! cause that’s what good pirates do!!! (leona tries to cut in that that’s not what pirates do but vesper elbows her in the ribs.) after that she forces her siblings to play sky pirates with her, all the time. no one can say no to her. trinket is the skyship.

angsty headcanon: she’s a good kid by nature, but as she grows older she gets this... pressure to be good, to stay good. never from her parents, not directly, although their offhanded comments on her being such an angel compared to their siblings factor in a little, so unintentionally. but after being the “sweet” one for so long, after hearing compliments and praise from tutors and workers in the castle and family friends, it sort of becomes... ingrained in her that she’s “the good kid”. she’s afraid to get into trouble or mischief, not only because of consequences, but this fear that she’ll be acting out of place. and as her siblings grow up and start having their own issues - vesper with some separation anxiety (born in the midst of all of that trauma, and then dalen’s closet), the twins’ self esteem issues, vax’s anxieties (these are all headcanons btw), she feels pressured to not bring up her own issues. after all, she’s the good kid. she’s the easy kid. she’s supposed to balance out her siblings, right? so she stays out of trouble while her siblings cause her parents stress. she keeps quiet about her own issues so she’s not adding to their burdens. they’re not that bad, anyway. they’re not as bad. right?

random headcanon: her tail!! is incredibly expressive!!! much more so than typical tieflings. because her family is the Fucking Best and whitestone doesn’t tolerate intolerance, she’s never felt pressured to repress the tiefling aspects of herself. so her tail waves back and forth when she’s happy, thrashes low to the ground when she’s angry, and the tip will kind of twitch back and forth like a little pendulum when she’s antsy or excited but trying not to be too expressive about it, kind of like bouncing on your toes. she ALSO incorporates it into hugs all the time, but especially when someone is feeling extra sad or insecure. it’s a little lifeline of support!! and love!!! and when she’s feeling anxious herself, she’ll wrap it around arms or legs, or around her own wrists, and people always use it as a sign to give her big hugs or ask what’s wrong.

general opinion: WHEN I SAW HER IN THE DE ROLO PORTRAIT MY FATE WAS SEALED. I LOVE HER SO MUCH AND I WILL LOVE HER UNTIL THE END OF DAYS

i can’t believe it. everyone who wrote a tiefling baby rolo wins, actually, congrats to all of you. AND SHE’S THE SWEETEST!! SHE’S THE BABY!! she gets everything she wants. her hand might be wrapped around her dad’s finger, but it’s percy who’s wrapped around her finger. he couldn’t be happier. i also think it’s good that she’s the baby - percy is probably far enough removed from All That Shit that he can only see gwen as a blessing. he probably actually laughs about, because when vox machina comes to see her, they all just turn to slowly look at percy. and he fucking loses it. but regardless, gwen is just a sign that, despite all of his past mistakes, he’s alive. he’s alive and he has a family, and those past mistakes very well may be the reason he’s gotten to this point in his life. and he wouldn’t trade his life, or any of his children, for the world.

to summarize: holy shit i love gwendolyn de rolo

[douwatahima]

christian CAN'T keep doing this i CAN'T love frida any more or else it's gonna be HELL when they have to leave 😭

[kathrynmjaneway]

yeah no im gonna need like,,,,,, a year,,,,,,, at least to recover from this

[mabsart]

In Loving Memory

Thank you for teaching me so much, but especially for reminding me to keep my eyes open and cherish the world around me. You will be missed.

[valverii]

wait i jsut realized something. did atsushi try to rob chuuya?? or did chuuya jus happen to stumble into this starving child?

IM SO GLAD YOU ASKED

it was a little bit of both i guess. chuuya was so dumbfounded at the kid who just conducted an attempted attack on him while bawling his eyes out and, feeling bad, he took him to eat chazuke and scolded him on the right way to rob people (he’s not a good role model)

[fanfic-wonderland]

Not Just Friends {Coriolanus Snow}

Synopsis: After your breakup with Felix Ravinstill, you go to Coriolanus Snow for help and comfort. When you ask him to go to the Winter's Ball with you so you can make your ex-boyfriend jealous, he's hesitant. He has his reasons...

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2.6k

Read part two here.

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When you arrive at the Snow residence one chilly afternoon, bawling your eyes out, nearly everyone is immediately worried. Coryo’s grandmother does not stick around for long to listen to your problems, claiming that she’s tired and will lie in bed for a while. However, Coryo, who looks the most concerned, guides you to their dining table, sitting beside you while Tigris heads directly to the kitchen to make you a cup of tea. “What happened?” He asks immediately.

You try to quiet down your sobs, taking a few deep breaths before answering him. “You were right. Felix is a no-good jerk. I should’ve listened to you.”

Coryo’s eyes darken at the mention of Felix’s name. He’s never been fond of him, much less when you started dating him a few months ago. You thought that he was just playing the role of the overprotective best friend when you first told him that you and Felix started seeing each other, and that he was being ridiculous when he had said that Felix was “the worst option for a boyfriend”. If only you had listened to him back then, you wouldn’t be crying over a broken heart right now. “What did he do?” Coryo asks in a low dangerous tone.

“He—” You shake your head as more tears fall down your cheeks. Coryo takes out a handkerchief from his pocket and grabs your chin softly, wiping them away. “I found him making out with Arachne in one of the classrooms.”

Coryo stops his movements, a hard look on his face. You try not to lose it again after the words leave your mouth but the image is freshly imprinted in your mind. The way his hands were all over her, while she grabbed at his hair… and how their mouths devoured each other…

You snap out of your thoughts when Coryo suddenly stands up and begins heading to the door. “Where are you going?” you ask frantically, following him.

“I’m going to kill him,” He answers but does not stop walking. “And her. I’ll kill them both.”

“No, Coryo, wait!” You grab him by the arm and pull him back. He finally turns back to you; his eyes are practically flames at this point. “They’re not worth it. Just… stay here with me, please,” You practically beg him. You feel your voice on the verge of breaking, again. “Please. I need you here with me.”

Coryo’s expression softens at your words and your glossy eyes make him silently give in. His arms wrap protectively around your figure and your cheek is pressed against his chest. You cry some more while he holds you, and it makes you feel a tad bit better.

A few moments later, the three of you are back at the table while you’re sipping from the tea that Tigris had brewed for you. The crying has finally stopped; the tea and the company were a big comfort. “I do want to ask you a favor that doesn't require killing anyone,” I direct my words to Coryo, who is already looking at me.

“Anything,” he says.

You sigh. “I want you to come with me to the Winter’s Ball.”

Coryo groans. “Anything but that,”

“Oh, please, Coryo,” You plead, clasping your hands together. “Both of them will be there and I just know that they'll be fuming if they see us together. Felix always hated the idea of us together and I just want him to see that I—”

“(Y/N), I already told you that I'm not going—”

“I know what you said,” you cut him off. Coryo typically does not mind going to social gatherings but the Winter’s Ball is different. He’s not fond of attending a dance filled with students who love to flaunt their wealth through over-the-top gowns and suits he cannot afford. At least not for now. “But if you could just do this one thing for me I will be forever grateful. I'll even pay for your suit, I have no problem doing—”

“Don’t,” He warns you. “Do not try to bribe me with that.”

You lower your head when you realize that you've made him angry. “Sorry.”

Silence follows and it feels like it goes on for too long. “Coryo,” Tigris chimes in. “Maybe it could be a good thing that you go with (Y/N). Aside from helping her out, it could also be a nice way to get your mind off things. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard lately.”

He narrows his eyes at her but before he can say something else, you beat him to it. “No, It’s okay. It was a dumb and petty idea anyway. Maybe I should just endure it as it is,” I stand up. “I should get going now. Thanks for the tea, and for listening. I'll see you guys later.”

Tigris walks you to the door while Coryo stays seated, keeping his eyes away from you. Moments later, Tigris comes back with a frown on her face. “Would it be so bad for you to go to the Ball?” She asks him softly.

Coryo closes his eyes and sighs. “You know how I feel about these things, Tigris.”

“I know. But you'd be helping (Y/N) out,” She points out. “Coryo, she's your best friend. How many times has she helped you without asking for anything in return?”

Countless times. And Coryo is sure that you'll keep helping him for as long as you can. It's only one of the many things he loves about you. “Tigris, you don't understand,” Coryo takes a moment before he confesses. “It’s not just about the Winter’s Ball. The mere thought of helping (Y/N) to make that good-for-nothing Felix Ravinstill jealous is…”

Tigris observes her cousin, the pained look on his face as he talks about you and your ex-boyfriend, and her eyes widen in realization. “Oh,” Coryo looks down at his hands, unable to say much. He’s already said enough. “Were you planning on telling her?”

He shakes his head. “It’s not worth it. She clearly doesn’t feel the same way.”

She places her hand on top of his. “I know it looks that way now, but there’s no telling what she truly feels unless you talk to her. You guys have known each other for so long that there may be something unspoken on her part, as well.”

Coryo doesn’t know what to say to that but the thought of you reciprocating his feelings stirs something inside him. He shouldn’t give in to them —he needs all his focus shifted to his studies to stay top of his class— but Tigris’ words make him reconsider his priorities, whether that’s a good thing or not.

***

You regret coming to the Winter’s Ball by yourself.

Everyone you see in the room is either coupled up or chatting away with other people. The people from the Academy who you once considered your ‘friends’ have taken Felix’s side after you guys broke up— all except one, but he's not here, so you're left sitting at an empty table on your own.

You've spotted Felix and Arachne a few times already, dancing together, and you try to distract yourself with a plate of food and a few drinks, but It's hard to look away when he's kissing her as if you aren't there. As if you guys hadn't dated at all.

You really shouldn't have come.

The plate is not even halfway empty but you've already lost your appetite. Your head is spinning and your chest feels heavy; the best thing you can do is leave. No one will notice anyway. 

So you quickly stand up from your seat but when you turn to leave you almost run into someone had you not realized sooner. “Sorry,” you say before looking up at their face. You nearly stumble backward when you take in those familiar blue eyes. “Coryo! You’re here.”

“Where you just leaving?” Coryo asks.

You shrug. “I didn’t feel like being here by myself.”

“Well, you’re not anymore,” He offers you his hand. There’s a hint of a smile as he says, “Would you like to dance?”

You’re speechless for a moment, not truly believing that Coriolanus Snow, one of the most persistent people you’ve ever met, is attending the Winter’s Ball with you. You almost pinch yourself to make sure that you’re not dreaming. The only thing you can do is nod and place your hand in his, and then he guides you to where everyone else is already dancing. People begin to turn their heads in your direction; some smile (at Coryo), some glare (at you), and some whisper to the person next to them, but you find that you don’t care. 

That is until you reach the center of the dancefloor and catch Felix and Arachne watching the both of you closely. His blazing stare almost succeeds in making you crumble, but you're brought back to reality when you feel Coryo’s thumb softly grazing the back of your hand. “Don’t pay attention to them,” He says close to your ear. You notice that he's smirking proudly at them and maybe that's the reason why Felix looks like he wants to kill someone. He's always had this crazy idea that you and Coryo were going behind his back, so this must feel like a slap in the face to him. You try to brush those thoughts aside and focus on the feeling of Coryo’s hand holding yours, how it makes you feel so warm inside.

The both of you turn to each other. You wrap your arms around his neck and he pulls you close by the waist. Your bodies begin to sway to the music naturally; it feels like you guys aren’t just pretending. The other students certainly seem to believe so, seeing how, unlike when you first arrived, everyone’s attention is fully on both of you. After a few moments of dancing, you start to forget where you are, and it feels like It’s just you and him in the room. He makes you feel that way effortlessly just by the way he’s looking at you, and only you. It’s like nothing else matters to him in this one moment.

You only break eye contact with him when you’re suddenly spun around by someone behind you. “I knew it,” Felix spits his words out like they're venomous. “How convenient that right after we break up you’re here with none other than the guy you’ve always denied being involved with.”

You fold your arms across your chest, scowling up at him. At that moment, you beat yourself up for crying over a guy like him. “I've always been truthful. I never went behind your back. Unfortunately, I can't say the same for you.”

“You act like you're so innocent, right?” Felix scoffs. “You always said nothing was going on between you and Snow but here you are throwing yourself at him in front of everyone.”

Your blood begins to boil. Before you can say anything else, Coryo steps in front of you. “Watch your mouth, Ravinstill,” He warns. “I’d think carefully about what to say if I were you.”

Felix laughs dryly. “This doesn't concern you, Snow.”

“It does because she's with me tonight and I won't tolerate you addressing her like that.” 

Coryo steps closer to Felix, practically hovering above him. Although Felix is slightly shorter, he doesn't seem the least bit intimidated. “Right. Figured you would play hero and jump right into defending your little whore from—”

Coryo’s fist meets Felix’s face before he can finish talking, sending him straight to the ground. Everyone who is watching the scene gasps in horror. Once he recovers, Felix manages to connect a punch to Coryo’s jaw, but it will take more than that to take him down. Coryo’s much stronger than him— and much angrier.

You call out Coryo’s name in panic, trying to get him to stop, but he keeps grabbing at Felix and punching him numerous times until his knuckles are stained with Felix’s blood. You begin to think that he might kill him. “Coryo, stop!” You cry out again, trying to hold him back by the arm.

He finally listens but his attention is still on Felix, who is lying on the floor and whose face is more than messed up now. A few students try to help him out and you take that opportunity to drag Coryo outside.

You figure he needs some fresh air. You know you certainly do. So both of you walk around the Academy grounds for a bit, arms linked with each other and neither of you saying anything until you find a bench right across from the fountain and you sit down. By the time you do, Coryo has calmed down a bit, although he still looks shaken up. You notice the bruise starting to form across his jaw, and you have a sudden urge to run your fingers through it, to do everything you can to make it go away. 

Coryo catches you looking. “It doesn't hurt much,” He reassures you. “You probably hit harder than him.”

You chuckle, too exhausted to pretend to be offended. “Are you alright, though?”

“Yeah. Are you?”

“I think so,” You nod, fiddling with your fingers.

You break away from his gaze but you can still feel him staring. “Hey,” he places a hand on your cheek to get you to look back at him. “Nothing that he said is true, and I hope you know that.”

A fluttering feeling forms in your stomach. His eyes have always been your weakness.

“I know that, It’s just…” You shake your head. “I feel like all of this is my fault. I shouldn't have asked you to come with me, because clearly, it was a horrible plan. And now I probably fucked things up for you— your reputation might be deeply affected now that you beat up the president’s son.”

Coryo doesn't say anything. His lips remain a thin line on his gorgeous face. “I should really start listening to you from now on, huh?” You try to joke.

You guess it works as Coryo smiles faintly. “I think that's the best idea you’ve had so far,” he agrees. “But I could care less about my image right now. He deserved that—no, worse. No one talks about you like that and gets away with it. Not if I can help it.”

His words make your insides jump. You try to control it because since when does Coryo have such an effect on you? Your relationship has always been nothing but platonic. “The thought of you hurting over a guy like him pains me so much because he doesn't deserve you. Fuck, even I don't deserve you, but I would never, ever do something to hurt you like that,” You swear he’s leaning his face closer to yours. “You're the most important thing to me, (Y/N). You’re so precious and I don’t think you see just how much. But I do. I’ve always seen it.”

You gape at him. “Coryo…”

You were not expecting him to say something like that. Coriolanus Snow has always been far from the romantic type. Charming, absolutely, but you have never heard him express any desire to be romantically involved with someone, let alone yourself. You don’t know how to answer to him. “You don’t have to say anything right now,” He tells you. “I just needed you to know how much you truly mean to me.”

And then he stands up and walks away, leaving you cold, confused, and alone with your thoughts.

[bowieandqueen11]

Buggy Falling In Love With You Would Include...

Request: hi there~ would it be possible to get buggy x reader headcanons of their time growing from friends to lovers? buggy is completely thrown for a loop when it comes to reader because they're polar opposites, but he grows to love how genuinely nice she is. she's able to bring out a more softer side of himself, which terrifies and frustrates him, but eventually buggy learns to accept it.

P.S. good luck on your surgery! i'll be wishing you a speedy recovery!

I genuinely love this clown way too much like Jeff Ward had no right to look as good in this role for real - also thank you so much sweetie!! I'm very nervous right now but getting back into writing such sweet requests is helping :3

Warning: slightly NSFW although nothing explicit, mentions of knives and cannons and slightly strong language!

(I do not own One Piece or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @goodsirs.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Look, I love this man, but he is a full on idiot. He would not deal with these emotions well. Perhaps it was because of the thorn Shanks had left in his side that he refused to allow his heart to entrust itself into someone else's hands again: to be left disappointed once again. Perhaps, it was even the deep rooted, long-suffering repressed fear that he would lose you; the life of a pirate was an ugly one, full of bloodshed and tenuous treaties. Of a life lived from moment to moment, of foiled plans and devastating lows. There was no place for kindness, or selflessness, or care. Tenderness. The last time he had left himself concern for another flood his brain, he had been left bawling in front of Gol D. Roger's execution tower. He vowed then, he vowed that he would never allow himself to feel that weakness for another person again.

Tenderness. Yuck. Even the word still made him shiver in his boots.

And then you had to come along, and ruin every. single. one. of his incredibly well thought out plans. He was going to be King of the Pirates. He was going to kill that little Strawhat brat and take back his map to the Grand Line. And he wasn't, most definitely not, going to fall head over heels in love with you.

Speaking of, your entire relationship didn't exactly get off to a great start; during the practice for the Grand Entry of performers into the ring, Buggy was far too busy glancing his eyes sideways to notice where he was walking. He was far, far too busy trying to swipe the dopey look of his usually stony face, replacing it with a melodramatic frown as he tried to figure out, why oh why, his heart was striking his chest in tune to the marching band every time he dared steal a look in your direction. Far, far too busy growing more and more petrified about how stifling a presence you had on the tent as a whole, that this man dead-ass hit the toe of his boot off the striped edge of the ring and fell arse over teakettle into the sand. It would have maybe... *maybe* been a little less mortifying for Buggy if you hadn't rushed over to help him while he was trying to spit out grains of sand and smudged lipstick from his tongue with a disgusted splutter. The absolute derision in his curled fist as he swung his head away from your offering hand was the final blow to his already delicate pride.

You were getting in the way, and it was starting to infuriate the clamorous clown.

As soon as you would enter the tent, every crew member's head would swivel round towards you like five seesawing spotlights. Being so kind and attentive to the different members of the crew and their varying personalities: dreams, fears and wants, it seemed only natural that each member would gravitate towards you. Plus, it was an added bonus dumping their ropes and wonkily written cue cards to instead lumber over to your corner and escape Buggy's rant about the 'brightness of the spotlight being so dark it would make the sun look black!'

Since this man is genuinely such an attention hoe (mood), seeing everyone completely turn their asses to him and ignore every stamp of his foot and seething word from his curled lips would immediately set him firmly on edge. Queue the theatrical man folding his arms and huffing like a steam boat when he watches Cabaji offer you his hand to stop you from falling over some scattered wrist chains still left on the floor after the Buggy Pirates' last village destruction.

Buggy snaps everyone back to work with a brusk yell, the sound of your giggle as another member of the crew shows you how to use the red flares tipping his anger straight over into the abyss. His teeth grind harshly enough to leave a trail of dust behind his feet as he slaps the tent flaps open; he immediately flops down on one of the stacked crates by the entrance, thumping his head onto his folded arms as he tries to calm himself down. He swats everyone that comes his way away, pretending he's busy counting how many knives he has left stored away so he could bury his head into the wood and hope that no one would notice how devastated he looked.

The worst part of it all? Buggy, if he was being truly honest with himself, was unsure if he was so jealous over you stealing the spotlight, or by the way his whole body had bristled seeing you place your fingers so delicately against a palm that wasn't his.

Bless your heart, you make it a point to try and cheer him up the next chance you get, feeling so guilty about the fact that his whole face was nearly as red as his nose for the entire day, and he refused to enter the tent again. Once you're all safely back on the Big Top, you try your damn hardest to try and soften the captain to you a bit: or even better, to try and figure out why he seemed so antagonised by you. It was exceptionally hard: when you waved to him on the deck, Buggy's eyes fell as wide as saucers as he nearly fell to the ground trying to duck down behind Mohji, waddling away behind him like a duck. Or you would try and knock on his quarters' door, only to see an arm... and then a leg... and then the stupid man's grimacing head fly past the port windows and out of his room. One time, as you were heading down to the galley, you swore you heard a gaudy exhale and a sigh of relief come from one of the shaking barrels up by the railings.

This man was a tough shell to crack, but you were determined to finally win the great Pirate Buggy over.

After about three days of constantly trying, you managed to make him yell and nearly jump out of his coat up on the deck; he swivelled round when he felt a soft triple tap on his shoulder, and there you stood: hands tucked nervously behind your back, a kind smile brightening your face as you noticed him gaping at you.

'Good morning, Captain Buggy!', you swing a little from side to side, noticing the thick swallow he gave at the sound of your voice. Did he really despise you so much, that just four simple words could make the bile rise in his throat?

Inside, Buggy was burning. By all the seas, did the sound of your wind-rushing voice make him want to do nothing more than grab onto your face with an clad-iron grip and do nothing but kiss you silly until the saccharine saffron sun dawned. His gloves clenched at his sides, will-power winning out as he threw you a shit-eating grin and raised one leg comically, as if he were about to run over the edge of the ship.

'I'm a little busy right now Y/n. See?' He pointed a finger towards the ocean, and then held them up by his shoulders and shrugged.

'But-', you started, grabbing onto his collar and nearly toppling the man over with how shocked he was. 'I just wanted to ask you about your battle with the Golden Lion Pirates!'

His eyebrows raised, and his head tilted slowly to the side. 'You... you know about that?'

'Of course! That's why I joined your crew! Only a talented and clever pirate could have sailed with Gol D. Roger - that's why I respected you and your crew so much! And don't forget devilishly handsome!'

You... you respected him? Oh no. Oh no no no. This was worse than kindness. Far worse than tenderness. The words fall on short-circuiting ears: the branding pain of your fingers brushing over the bare skin on his wrist as you held tightly onto his sleeve forgotten as his brain worked overtime trying to figure out what you had just said. ...Handsome?

He cocks his head back to you, blinking rhythmically, as if he were a wound up spring toy rather than a man. But he looking at you: really looking at you for the first time. His face softened a little - the cracks finally beginning to show through his gaudy façade. As you reached up on your tippy toes to press a chaste kiss against the skull-and-crossbones lying over his left eyebrow, little could you know that no one had shown Buggy that much care since he was thirteen years old.

Oh noooo. He was falling in love with you, and it terrified him. But damn it all if he doesn't want to feel this flash of lightening strike through every nerve ending in his body every chance he got: if he didn't want to feel his breath stick in the back of his throat at the slightly sticky feel of your lips pulling away from his forehead. If he didn't want to be greedy, and steal away the flushed smile you gave him before scurrying off, hoarding it all for himself.

Buggy comes to practice his new jokes on you every chance he gets after that encounter, the feeling of being near you so addictive it almost swings round from love and back to annoyance again. He stands awkwardly at the swing door of the galley: a nervous shadow creeping around the fringes of your scintillating smile. Everyone on the crew just pretends they can't see him lmao, even when they can hear his impatient 'oh, come onnn' and 'how long does it take to eat a bologna sandwich?', moaning and muttering and spluttering from the corridor. Was it so hard for the poor man to get a minute *coincidentally* alone with you? Considering he had done nothing the last week but try and do the exact opposite oops Buggy I love you but you're a straight up histrionic dumbass-

He literally grabs people by the collar and hurls them out the door like a cannonball if they walk past him too slowly.

When he comes sliding up on the bench beside you, elbow on the table and head resting nonchalantly on his fist like a slipping squid nearly knocking itself into your torso head-first, you can't say you're too surprised by his antics. Bless, he looks so proud of himself for fooling you into thinking he was here so candidly that you can't help but giggle, which turns into rip-roaring laughs once he starts up his routine. Truth is, as he spends hours and hours telling you terrible, cheesy ass jokes, he just wants to hear your laughter. Wants to feel your knee knock against with each shake of your belly his until his whole body jolts. Wants to admire you up close, to mark down in the depths of his mind the way the corners of your eyes crinkle when you're especially happy.

He wants to outline it all in his head: memorise it, lay it out so it covered every inch and crevice and recesses of his vindictive brain. All he wanted in that moment, as you tried to choke back your laughter with a spluttering cough, was to frame the most important map he would ever find: the intricacies of you.

When he slaps his hand down on the table at a particularly rib-tickling crack, and you accidentally bring yours down to settle on top of his glove, he starts so suddenly you're worried he's going to start avoiding you again. And although he stops giggling, and although his face falls to gravely stare at your skin resting on top of the white leather, he surprises you both by twisting his hand so he could grip loosely onto the tips of your fingers. He's so embarrassed when you start knitting your pinky finger between his larger, slender one that he tucks his left hand between his knee and has to turn his head to face the wall, still trying to swallow down his pride and allow himself to indulge in that disgusting word... tenderness again.

One time, while you were pouring over some old maps the crew had stolen from a Marine base a couple of weeks ago, you absentmindedly reached over to where Buggy was sewing up his coat on the sand and began twirling the surprisingly soft strands of his hair between your fingers. Thank goodness the two of you were alone, because the uncomfortable tent that grew between his shuffling thighs, and the gasping splutters that blew out of his mouth mortified the clown to his core.

He was still getting used to all this. Just give him some time. And a whole lot of reassurance.

You're the only other person that Buggy will allow to sit on his make-shift throne. When your Captain had asked you to come help chart out a path to whichever small village you thought was best to steal restock supplies from, you imagined you'd be standing by his armrest like his right hand man does. Surprise surprise to the both of you when you end up nearly glowing, puffs of steam escaping both your ears by how maroon you both turned.

When he had faux-confidently clapped his knees and beckoned you over to him with a wave of his hand, he was only, like, 30% certain you would take him up on his offer. When you slid onto his lap, he was nearly as gobsmacked as you were. He tried, he really did - he tried to hide his curling smile and wonderstruck widening eyes behind your neck, but his warm breath grazing over your collar bone kept making you squirm. Which, of course, with each shove backwards of your hips, and well... your buttocks against his pelvis, he kept having to moan internally and grit his teeth to stop himself ripping off your clothes right there and then.

It really doesn't help that he starts tapping the heel of his boot against the floor as if to expel all of his nervous energy, making his knee bop up constantly against your inseam, making it hard for you to concentrate on anything but holding onto his forearm for dear life to try and settle yourself.

Buggy's own grip on the chair was tight enough to chip off wood when you shakily pulled the crumpled map out of your back pocket, the feeling of the back of your hand brushing innocently against his inner thigh making Buggy throw his head back and close his eye in intense concentration.

Oops, too bad you had to go back since you'd forgotten your compass; wrestling deeper into the pocket, your hand accidentally brushed over the most sensitive Buggy's crotch, making him buck his hips up and nearly sending you flying across the room.

It's when he gently places the side of his head against your cheek and reads almost absentmindedly over your shoulder, despite how hard he was pretending not to be breathlessly glancing at you through his thick lashes intently enough to burn a hole through the hull of the ship that you finally realise.

Oh. He doesn't hate me. He likes me.

His nose bumps against the edge of your Cupid's Bow, and you take a chance. You lean forward, both your breaths frozen as Buggy follows the trail of your lips until he goes almost cross-eyed, finally computing that you had just pressed a sweet kiss on his nose.

For a moment, he's stock still. He just gawks harshly at the inner seam of your bottom lip, as if lost adrift a tumultuous sea of thought. And then when I say this man pounces, I mean he pounces.

All the rest of the crew are too afraid to come in and disturb Buggy about the small three-manned boat encroaching on the horizon, though, because of the absolutely ringing, frantic noises coming out of Buggy's throne room.

Let's just say, although they were incredibly glad you brought out a softer, mushier side of their Captain, they all now had another problem on their hands: his raging protectiveness. Now, not only were they getting yelled at for messing up his entrances, they were getting honked at and prodded with his dismembered hand anytime someone dared to even look at you for a second too long.

[seattlesellie]

knight!ellie x princess!reader drabble. ♡🗡️🕯️

an: since i’m thinking of writing a full fic of knight ellie x princess reader i wanted to know what you guys think ! let me know if i should turn this into something way longer. just a lil peak of the themes of a longer fic 💗

cw: mature themes, reader is a little lonely, tension.

the moon is so bright, so big, so white, luminous, it reflects in her emerald eyes and renders them almost mystical, bordering on the verge of the unreal. one couldn't help but wonder if she herself was not entirely real, a specter of dreams made flesh. do you recall those distant days of childhood? just eight years old, insisting that your imaginary friend — aurora, was right by your side? you clung to her like a lifeline. you'd shed tears as your mother, the reigning queen, denied the request for an extra place setting, an empty plate reserved for aurora alone. how you fell asleep bawling, tasting salt on your tongue, bitter and sickening, feeling as if you were drowning in your sleep, the specter of aurora growing gaunt and wretched, as though starved for existence.

how you woke up plagued by guilt, tormented by a high fever and a stubborn eye infection, crying and screaming for your imaginary best friend. and how from that day on, the castle fell empty. you wandered around, through those regal halls like a specter, floating like a brittle ghost, nodding politely when a maid curtsied in reverence, offering a feeble smile to the steward as he addressed you as his cherished princess.

you filled your duties, all your royal obligations, attended to your classes, spoke only when spoken to by your parents, ignored when another royal called you a “loony” when catching you in the midst of a conversation with several alabaster rabbits.

you formed a connection with the world around you, a bond that ran far deeper than what met the eye, and now one knew.

you rub on your eyelids with the back of your hand, and blink in dismay — oh, you’ve been mistaken, she is real, and her abdomen rises and falls with each breath, the clang of her armor a testament to her existence, to your sanity. her eyelids flutter, and her throat subtly moves as she swallows. a strand of her auburn hair sways in the wind too, but sweet aurora’s hair also danced in the breeze, so who knows.

sometimes it all is simply too blurry.

for now, you choose to believe.

the grass tickles your bare toes, you don’t laugh.

“hate being a princess” you mutter with a sigh, tilting your head to the side — her side, to see if perhaps she vanished like the rest of them, yet finding her there.

her role as a knight is dictated with silence in your presence, a mere executor of commands from your father with a duty to bow in submission, so she doesn’t respond. all she has to do is be your protector, keep you safe and guarded, make sure you won’t try and run once more.

she’s also not supposed to help you with your clandestine escapades from the castle, she’s not supposed to lay in the tall royal gardens ridiculously green grass with the princess, to allow the opulent and delicate fabric of her dress to gently brush against the barest portion of her knee. yet — she allows it.

she’s not supposed to help you pick flowers and greet you good morning, she was supposed to be unyielding as stone, almost ephemeral yet ever-present.

and now your ankle shifted to rest gently against hers, and she didn’t even nudge you.

“i despise it” you repeat. you try and voice your frustration but it comes off as too soft. ellie typically abhorred anything soft. she’d rather sleep on a hard mattress than a plush one, favored stomping over floating.

and yet you seem to be an exception.

you seem to be an exception for lots of things.

and ellie doesn’t respond. she blinks at the full moon and it blinks back at her.

“do you like being a knight?”

you think you may have heard a breathy chuckle. you’re unsure, you sigh.

“ellie?”

and she never told you her name. you figured it out by yourself.

then she begins, pink tongue folding and moistening her lower lip. “i like being your knight”, she blinks thrice, in a hurry — like she said something wrong, as though she feared she might have offended anyone else whose knight she was not. she takes a deep breath, for some reason it's shaky.

“i like, i- need, to protect the kingdom. it’s my duty. for the sake of your father, the people, you — you know that, my princess”

and usually you’d cringe when addressed with that title. you voiced it already — that title isn’t you, you don’t want it, it felt like a burdensome label imposed or cursed upon your birth, but for some reason, when she says it ; “my princess” it feels like her “my”, is the one that holds the power to cloud your mind. and that’s why you don’t argue that it isn’t your name, because she calls you as hers, and oh how bad you want to be hers.

you overheard the conversations among the other young royals, who spoke in hushed tones about "crushes." you eves dropped and furrowed your brows intently when they talked about the charming sable boy, a dark haired prince from a faraway land, an adviser. they described the feeling of having a crush as if they were “falling”, “giddy”, “thrilled”, “like riding a horse, really really fast”

and it never really happened to you, albeit you really did try. you just accepted it, you’d be crush-less forever, forced to marry a crush-less prince, forced to live a crush-less life.

then you met knight ellie.

it happened when she removed her bascinet, when she casually tossed her tousled auburn locks from side to side, when she smiled that sly smirk then immediately wiped it off and glued her gaze to the stone wall. it was in the way her eyes met yours, her all but graceful bow, and the sound of her armored knee meeting the ground, when she chuckled after winning the battle of who would be the princesses knight. how cocky she looked as her arm was raised in triumph, only to transform into humble grace when officially declared the winner.

but it wasn't a feeling akin to falling; it was more like crashing down. you also didn’t feel giddy, you felt nauseous and tight everywhere, you weren’t thrilled you were petrified, and you didn’t ride a horse really fast — it was more like being thrown off the horse and crashing onto the ground, nose-first.

so it didn’t feel like crushing, it felt like something else. and you really had to go to the washroom.

“you don’t… owe anything to the kingdom, or to my father” you murmur.

she really doesn’t. it got her family starved, killed. “i do” she lies, swallowing thickly. “also, i really don’t need protection” then you lie, rolling your eyes with a huff.

she'd call you a brat if she wasn't your knight, and if she knew for certain that you wouldn't go running to your father after being offended.

“i should run away” you muse, idly toying with the hem of your dress. ellie sees the bare flesh of your thigh and she feels like maybe she shall run away as well. then her breath hitches down her throat, and she really hates it because this isn't the first time. perhaps she's sick, a throat infection. it's getting very hard to breathe.

t'must be the armor, the decides.

then she decided it's not.

it's simply the cold night air. definitely not your naked thigh, or your hunger to be free, or the way your dress flows with the wind, or the way your eyelashes flutter and your fingertips tap tap tap on your plushy lips.

“should i fetch the horse then, my princess? which one d'ya want, charlie... or buster, maybe. he's a strong one” ellie croons then swallows a chuckle.

she’s also not supposed to joke with you. or to stare at your thigh, or to let you place your head on her armored chest.

“yes” you reply like she’s serious.

then a cloud veils the once-bright moon, and your knight clears her throat.

“i should take you to your room, freedom warrior, s’getting late”

“you shall take me to the forest to pick some blackberries, knight”

ellie chuckles and argues back. “i shall not”

“disobeying a royal?” you say with a wink.

you might actually be the death of her.