#god i love nia so much

[amysterygirlwithabigheart]

SHE WANTS MC SO BADLY!!!!!!!!! At that point, she already wants them to be girlfriends😭 I love her so much!!!!

[milkbugae]

I feel so crazy when people say they switch from one li to another for blades cause what do you MEAN you don’t romance everyone

[malachitezmeyka]

I found my literature notebook from two years ago and as I was flipping through it, I found a creative writing assignment that was basically “Come up with characters that could plausibly exist in this universe and write a short snippet about them”

And I got this feeling that I knew exactly what 14yo me did with that assignment

So I quickly scanned through the text and yep, I put Suiren and Midori into it. Because of course I did. This was May 2021. Red Lotus week. Peak obsession hours. I was cringe but I was free.

[hheeluv]

the fact he started spamming on weverse while i was reading this is kinda funny

Needy Girl | Y.JW

「pairing」 : bf!jungwon x fem!reader 「word count」 : 1.4k

「synopsis」 : jungwon had invited you over just to spend his time studying while you sat on his bed, watching him. after growing bored, you came up with the perfect plan to distract him, and it worked, just not how you anticipated.

「genre」 : smut

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, oral (m. receiving), slight fingering, cum eating, face fucking, petnames (doll, babe...), slight choking, small amount of unprotected sex at the end, derogatory names (slut, whore...), degradation, lmk if I missed anything!!

「notes」 : this was originally supposed to be a hard thought because of this picture, but my inability to write anything small strikes once again... also this is for the lovely nia (@intromortal) as payback for those links you sent in the gc :>

You started to wonder why your boyfriend even invited you over to his dorm if all he was going to do was focus on his studies. Maybe it was because he just wanted your company, but you weren't sure. 

However, what you did know was that you were getting bored and needy, having been deprived of your boyfriend's touch all week due to finals. Just when you thought you would finally get your boyfriend's touch, kiss, dick. It was pulled out of your reach once more. 

"Wonnie..." you whined out once more, draping your arms over his shoulder, face buried in his neck. "When are you gonna be done? I'm bored." 

Jungwon sighed, dropping the pen that sat between his fingers to grab your wandering hands. His eyes closed, trying to keep his cool. In the span of just two hours, you had distracted him countless times.

"Doll, I told you that I'd be all yours as soon as I was done." He spoke with a tinge of annoyance in his tone. Pouting, you pulled your face out of his neck and rested your chin on his shoulder. 

"But you've been studying for the past two hours. Can't you take a break?" you grumbled, fingers toying with the fabric of his shirt.

Jungwon inhaled deeply, pulling your hands away from his body and pushing you back a bit. His actions caused you to glare at him, and you started to grow annoyed. 

"This exam is important, y/n. I can't waste any time lounging around." He didn't even spare you a glance as he picked his pen back up and returned to the textbook that lay before him. 

Biting your tongue, you stomped back over to the bed and flopped down with a huff. Staring at the ceiling, you thought about what you could do. Going home was always an option, but that seemed like the easy way out. 

No, you wanted to get your boyfriend's attention regardless of how you went about it. 

Turning your head, your eyes landed on your boyfriend's slouched form. The pen was hanging from his lips as he read something, and he looked lost in thought. Your eyes then trailed down to his bouncing thigh, the motion bringing back memories of when he would make you ride his thigh. The images make you squeeze your thighs together, your panties growing wet. 

Your eyes then go to the slight tent in his sweatpants, and your mouth wateres at the sight. Just then, an idea pops into your mind, causing you to sit up, a smirk tugging on the corner of your lips. 

Getting off of the bed, you slowly make your way over to Jungwon's desk, trying not to gain his attention. Which with some kind of miracle that you hadn't. 

Dropping to your knees, you crawled under the desk, making sure not to touch him just yet. Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you move between his spread legs, hands falling on his thighs. Jungwon let out a sharp gasp, his body jolting at your touch.

"What are you doing, babe?" his voice was strained. His eyes fell on you as he pushed his chair back slightly.

You just gave him an innocent smile, "Don't worry about me; go back to your studying since it's so important."

Jungwon bit his tongue as your hands wandered up his thighs, dangerously close to his clothed dick. He tried his best to ignore your antics while he went back to his papers. However, your fingers slipping past the waistband of his sweats was very, very distracting. 

Your fingertips were cold on his skin as you tugged the fabric down until his semi-hard dick was pulled from its confines. A choked groan was pulled from his lips as you wrapped your fingers around him, pumping languidly. His hips bucked into your hand as your thumb brushed over his tip, a deep groan falling from his lips. 

Then your movements stopped, causing him to look down at you with furrowed eyebrows and question why you had stopped. 

"Focus on your work won," your tone was flat as you brought your face closer to his hardening dick. 

"How am I supposed to focus when you're- fuck." his body shivered when you pressed your tongue against the underside of his cock, licking a long stripe up to his tip, "when you got your pretty mouth on my dick?"

Humming at the slight taste of his pre-cum, the vibrations making Jungwon's thighs tense, eyes rolling back slightly. 

You couldn't help but smirk internally, knowing you had him in the palm of your hand. Watching as his head falls back when you wrap your cherry red lips around his tip, sucking lightly. 

"F-Fuckkk!" Jungwon's fingers dropped the pen before threading through your hair, keeping your mouth on him. 

Your thighs squeezed together at the feeling of him growing harder in your mouth. Your panties were soaked through with arousal under your miniskirt, begging for attention. 

A muffled whine vibrated around Jungwon's cock as your fingers slipped under your skirt, toying with your clit. Tilting his head back up, jungwon's hooded eyes fell back on you, taking in your closed eyes and flushed face, but then he noticed where your other hand was.

"Are you touching yourself?" he growled, hand pushing your head down until his tip hit the back of your throat, making you gag, the construction of your throat making him groan. "such an impatient little slut."

Tears brimmed in your eyes as his hips bucked up into your mouth, his hands keeping your head in place. Your nails dug into his thighs as you pulled away from your pussy. 

"Shit..." jungwon breathed out, head falling back once more as he continued to fuck your throat, soaking in all of your incoherent noises and gargles as you choked on his dick.

Your eyes rolled back as you pressed your tongue to the underside of his throbbing dick, humming softly. The vibrations caused the dark-haired male's body to shiver, a deep, guttural groan falling from his parted lips. 

"Fuck 'm gonna cum, yeah," he thrusts his hips up further, making you choke even more on his dick, tears streaming down your face to mix with the spit and pre-cum that covered your chin. "Since you're such a needy whore, you better take it all." he hissed, bucking his hips one last time before he spilled his seed deep in your throat. 

You tried to swallow as much as you could, but his tip continuously hitting the back of your throat as he rolled his hips made it quite hard to do so. Resulting in some spilling past your lips and down your chin before dripping onto your chest. 

With a few more small thrusts, Jungwon finally pulled you off of his cock, allowing you to breathe. Pushing himself away from the desk, he took in your disheveled appearance. Your hair was messy while your face was covered in tears, spit, and cum. Your eyes, however, still looked at him with need, causing him to smirk. 

Spreading his legs, he took his semi-hard dick in his hand, pumping slowly, using your saliva and his cum as a lubricant. Titling his head slightly, he looked at you with a sinister gleam in his eye, motioning for you to come forward.

"Get up here and ride me like the desperate, needy slut that you are." His words stung in all the good ways, only leaving you dripping in your panties even more. Scrambling to your feet, you quickly straddle his lap, hands on his shoulders. 

Lifting your hips, you reach down to move your panties to the side, far too desperate to take them off. Jungwon then lined the tip of his dick with your dripping entrance, but his grip on your hip kept you from sinking down onto him. You started to let out a whine but were quickly silenced when his hand wrapped around your neck, pulling your face closer to his.

"And you better not cum until I tell you to, got that doll?" he growled, his warm breath fanning over your wet face. You were quick to nod, keeping your eyes on him, but they soon rolled to the back of your head as he pulled you down onto him in one fell swoop, a choked moan tearing from your lungs.

You didn't move for a moment, trying to adjust, but jungwon was far too impatient and rolled his hips into yours, pulling a high-pitched moan from your lips. His hands find your ass underneath your skirt, squeezing harshly.

"Better get to work, or you won't be cumming anytime soon," he smirked as he watched you struggle to ride him, already knowing it was going to be a long night.

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[braidwoods]

already dreading aerin and the elf lady being unnecessary lis rip what little screentime imtura had that wasnt a choice between all of them

[natalievoncatte]

“Today?” Kara said, “really?”

There was a silence in the house, as a pall had fallen over it. Everyone was gathered for the festivities and the turkey in the oven was filling the house with a delightful scent that made Lena’s mouth water. Thanksgiving was supposed to be the one day that Lena could forget about her waistline and just indulge herself. She’d been “helping” Eliza along with Alex and Kelly and Nia while the boys and Kara were out back tossing a football and pretending that she and J’onn didn’t have an outrageous advantage over Brainy and James.

Now Kara was standing in the living room as the news broke in over the football game and announced that a rampaging alien was tearing apart Rio de Janiero.

“Guys,” Kara said solemnly, “I have to go.”

Lena’s heart sank. She knew better than to protest. Kara had already glumly removed her glasses and was about to go grab her suit. Lena reached out and curled a hand around her bicep.

“Please be careful, darling.”

Lena could feel eyes on her back, Eliza and Alex and Nia all watching, silently urging one of them to just finally make a damned move. Lena *lived with her*, for God’s sake, and had since she sold her penthouse. They shared breakfasts and Kara gave her foot rubs and still they were stuck in this maddening limbo without defining what and who they were and it seemed neither dared to ask.

Lena knew what she wanted the answer to be, and how it ached inside her.

Kara glumly trudged down the stairs in full Supergirl regalia, regal and imposing as ever and just as beautiful. Since she’d revealed her identity to the world she’d been freed from the constraints of having to disguise herself, and a few months ago had buzzed the left side of her head, having trimmed the rest to shoulder length, and Lena longed to run her fingers over the fuzz.

She’d also altered her suit again. It no longer had sleeves. Every time Lena saw her, it felt like her soul was going to escape her body.

Kara came over and put her hands on Lena’s arms.

“I’ll be fine,” she said.

Lena gulped down her anxiety.

“I can hear your heart, you know.”

“Just be careful. Please.”

Kara started to turn. Maybe it was the audience, maybe she was just tired of being mired in this thick tension between them. Maybe it was the wine. She grabbed Kara’s arm again and sprang forward to brush her lips against Kara’s cheek, dangerously close to Kara’s mouth.

“For luck.”

Kara’s eyes flew open wide and she gaped at Lena.

“I’ll be b-back,” she said, and swept out the door, cape billowing majestically.

God how Lena hated that cape, sometimes. It blocked the view.

What had been a festive gathering grew quiet. Everyone gathered around the television to see what was going on, save Eliza who politely excused herself to the kitchen, hiding tears that everyone politely ignored.

Lena joined her. She was making the gravy.

“A life of fighting isn’t what I wanted for her,” she said.

“Me either.”

They were alone in the kitchen and Eliza was whisking a roux as she waited for the raw flour smell to cook off.

“Lena, do you have feelings for my daughter?”

Lena swallowed hard, grabbing a knife to chop carrots for glazing so that she’d have something to occupy your hands.

Eliza’s voice was soft, something wistful in her eyes. “You must know how she feels about you.”

Lena had to stop to avoid slicing open her finger, almost feeling the touch of the blade. She cleared her throat.

“I do,” she admitted. “I very much do. If I’m going to be honest with myself, I’ve been in love with her for years.”

Eliza nodded, utterly unsurprised. “Kara is very hesitant about delicate things. When she first started living with us, she used to rip doorknobs off and break things at random while she learned to control her powers. She’s probably told you about Streaky.”

“She has.”

Eliza began pouring stock into the pot, her whisk making soft scraping sounds.

“She’s still that way about everything. Afraid if she pushes too hard, she’ll break something.”

Lena nodded. It was at that moment that Alex stormed into the kitchen. “She’s back.”

Immediately, Lena rushed out into the living room. Kara trudged through the door, and sighed.

“He got a few good hits in but he’s contained.”

Lena could only stare. Her suit was covered in scorch marks and even worse, Kara was bruised, her knuckles especially battered. She smiled weakly.

“I just need a minute to clean up.”

With a deep sigh, Kara turned and headed upstairs.

Lena could feel the eyes on her before she glanced back. Eliza motioned a silent “Go”, and Lena went.

She knocked at the bathroom door.

“Lena?” said Kara.

She always knew. Super-senses.

“It’s me. Can I come in?”

Brief hesitation, then, “yes.”

Lena stepped inside and closed the door. Kara was washing her hands, the injuries already vanishing. Lena didn’t care. She took Kara’s hands anyway, gently washing them under warm water.

She then fumbled at the clasps and unhooked Kara’s cape, and folded it. It was surprisingly heavy, made of a dense material from her long lost home. Setting it aside, she rested her hand against Kara’s deliciously broad back, silently waiting for permission.

“Go ahead,” Kara said in a shaky voice.

Lena freed the tab of the hidden zipper and pulled, baring Kara’s expansive muscular back, and peeled the suit away from her shoulders. Kara had nothing but a sports bra and boxer briefs on beneath. She finished shimmying out of the suit on her own.

Lena has seen Kara in bathing suits, or caught flashes of her changing, but this was different, somehow more intimate. There was a vulnerability, not just in the woman disrobing but in the goddess showing Lena her bruises. Lena gently touched a black and purple mark on Kara’s flank.

“This one hurt, didn’t it.”

“It always hurts. I can feel it, I just pretend I don’t.”

Lena looked up at her and met her gaze.

“Kara, may I kiss you?”

Kara blinked and Lena could actually feel her tremble.

“Yes,” she breathed.

Lena rose on her tiptoes and pressed their lips together very softly, with a deliberate slowness. When Kara kissed her back and pulled her into a delicate embrace, hands bracketed low on her hips, Lena felt like she could fly.

Kara was looking at her in wonder.

“Was that for more luck?”

Lena felt bold. She had seize the moment now, before she lost her nerve and they fell back into tense limbo.

“Kara Danvers, if you want to, you can get very lucky tonight.”

Her eyes were wide and Lena grinned.

“I umm, I…”

Lena trailed a finger down the center of Kara’s muscular chest.

“Dinner is almost ready, darling. Take your shower. Just remember to save room for dessert.”

Kara favored her with a delighted smile as Lena stepped out of the bathroom and padded down the stairs.

When she reached the ground floor, everyone was pointedly focused elsewhere, either on the football game or cooking, and Kelly and Nia were playing cards at the dining room table.

Alexa, though, handed her a beer. Lena took it with a shaking hand.

“Fucking finally,” Alex whispered. “Just don’t get too loud tonight, okay? Go down to the beach if you can’t control yourself.”

Lena’s eyes narrowed.

“I hate you.”

“Love ya too, sis-in-law,” said Alex.

“We’re not married yet.”

Alex tipped back her brew. “Six months, tops.”

Lena took a long pull on her beer and scowled.

(It ended up being four months)

[ccccatttta]

hello ladies and gentlemen, i am here to show my marauders fancasts. this post will be long as fuck im afraid, but i have stuff to say. cheers!

james potter as michael cimino

PAPIIIIIRRHAWWWRWWGRA i mean ha. he's cute. mi gente latino

regulus black as choi beomgyu (txt)

my baby star candy, my sunshine, my everything. also! his voice is one of the prettiest things on earth and i totally think regulus would sing like that

sirius black as hwang hyunjin (stray kids)

he's so androgynous,,,, like if a man and a woman had a baby.

remus lupin as esteban kukurickza (actor)

these low quality ahh photos, this man is hard to catch fr. he IS remus lupin you can't change my mind on this + the actor knows we see him as remus and embraces it, god bless you kuku esteban

peter pettigrew as cooper hoffman (actor)

you guys have no idea how much my peter fc changes, it used to be lewis capaldi but i think i have finally managed to find the one for me.

lily evans as chapell roan (soloist)

she's unreal, she's the moment, she's everything. nobody other than her could be the icon lily evans is

pandora lovegood/rosier as namephyra on ig (model)

i say lovegood/rosier bc i like the hc where she's evan's twin, but at the same time i also like when she's a lovegood or a lestrange. elle fanning used to be my fc for sooo long (and i still kinda see it) but she has all the vibes i picture in pandora, and she's honestly so pretty i wanna cry

dorcas meadowes as nia sondaya (actress)

LOOK AT HER OH MY GOD LOOK AT HER, it took me so long to find someone who gives me dorcas vibes, like my girl isn't easy to find, but nia has this aura about her and it was love at first sight

marlene mckinnon as beabadoobee (soloist)

this is one of the og's (or it was when i came to the fandom) and till this day i can't picture anyone else, she's put a spell on me or something

mary mcdonald as bcsais_ (ig)

i don't know much about her, but every time i see another mirror selfie my heart stops for a bit, and that's the only way mary mcdonald should be perceived

evan rosier as casper von bülow (actor)

i know a great chunk of the fandom hcs evan (and dora too) as poc, and i totally see it too, however this little german boy.... oh the grip he has on me is out of this world, it also has to do with the fact he's on germany's skam (druck) and that immediately means i'm emotionally attached

barty crouch jr. as hayden (ig) or marlon noah (ig)

this is a tricky one, they are both so different but they feel like barty to me. lately i've been using hayden more but i do think marlon can make a comeback any of these days.

[extra] the black sisters <333

andromeda black as hwang yeji (itzy)

it's not a coincidence i chose yeji for andromeda and hyunjin for sirius (if u don't know, these two are by no means related in real life but they look so much alike and they even share the same last name, so they could be lost siblings). i do think that andy and sirius looked alike and that's what made them even more fond of each other, the fcs were sent by the gods themselves

bellatrix black as kim hyeong seo (bibi ; soloist)

i support women's rights and i support women's wrongs. hate her or love her, bellatrix has always been THAT girl and bibi is also THAT girl

narcissa black as kim minjeong (winter ; aespa)

i do believe that winter looks a bit similar to beomgyu and i do believe that narcissa looked similar to regulus, it's the genes guys, they are strong. she's so gorgeous i wanna sob in my hands till i die

these are all my fcs!, i haven't really thought about any other characters for now, these are my main guys and pretty much the only ones i read about.

this was exhausting lord, imma go take a nap, toodles!!!

[wwwj1ncom]

OH MY GAWDDDDDDD 😭😭🕺🕺💖💖🕺🤗💖💖💖

hi nia! if you're still taking requests, could i ask for something dreamnap?

dreamnap default pose

[lovezbrownies]

Valentine's with your Queen.

General Masterlist - Queen Nia's Masterlist

Synopsis: You've been married to the Queen for a year, in a relationship 3 years. Yet, no Valentine's will ever be like this one. Because for this Valentine's, you actually started to love her.

PAIRING: Yandere!Queen Nia Bloodwen x GN!Reader.

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, possessiveness, obvious control of reader, reader is resentful, reader is lowkey mean, reader is seen as strong and tall. Also 6.3k words long.

“In honor of the Queen’s first year anniversary of her marriage to our Sovereign Consort, I propose a Valentine’s themed ball, a ball for all, but specifically to celebrate the queendom’s most perfect couple!”

That bastard. Gleaming and joyful, as if he hadn’t just dug your grave. This was supposed to be a political meeting to begin with! This meeting room is supposed to speak only of diplomacy and wars, so what the fuck is that idiot Marquis going on about, and who told him to speak of your ‘Relationship’ with the queen? God, if you could you would definitely grab at his neck.

The sharp chill of fingers, cold as winter frost, wrapped around your hand beneath the heavy oak table. You stiffened at the touch, barely suppressing a flinch, before dragging your gaze downward to where your wife’s hand now lay atop yours. Her hold was light yet firm, an anchor pulling you back from your brewing storm of rage. A silent warning. A reminder.

When Nia inhaled, it was slow, measured, a performance of thoughtful contemplation, “I think that is a wonderful idea,” The Marquis began grinning upon hearing his queen praise his idiotic idea but of course, “But I am fairly disappointed that I must repeat myself, this council room is for diplomatic meetings and affairs only, Marquis, so please settle down, try to respect the importance of this room and refrain from mentioning your queen’s private relationship.”

With the matter promptly silenced, the rest of the meeting proceeded smoothly. Yet even as discussions moved on to real matters of state, you could feel the lingering heat of Nia’s palm against yours. She did not let go. Not until the final council member had left the chamber, their backs turned, the last of their footsteps fading into the distance. Only then did she release you, though the absence of her touch did little to shake the weight of her presence.

You knew better than to trust her silence.

And your instincts were proven right the moment you both returned to your private chambers.

The doors shut. The guards stationed outside. And the moment you turned to gauge her expression, you saw it—that look. The same one she had given you the night she proposed. That quiet, knowing hunger. The kind that set your nerves alight with the knowledge that no matter how much you resisted, you would always lose.

“What do you think of this Valentine’s ball in honor of our fruitful marriage? I think it’s grand, in fact,” Nia grinned, her smile as sly as a fox’s,”I rather enjoy the idea, of a night where the entire court will shower us with admiration. Where they will look upon us and wish they were in your place.” She took a step forward, then another, closing in as her lips curled into something deceptively warm. “We are the perfect couple, after all.”

She moved with the slow, deliberate grace of a predator, circling you like a lioness sizing up her prey. And you, in turn, felt your spine stiffen, your muscles locked as she wove around you before pressing herself against your back, her arms curling around your midsection. Her warmth seeped through the layers of your clothing, the weight of her presence impossible to ignore as she leaned into you, resting her chin on your shoulders, looking deeply into your face.

You sigh, and look off to the side, the side where her almost perfect face wasn’t staring into your soul, “I think… It’s… It’s too much, while you may revel in the attention, I will be uncomfortable the entire time, I hate every noble of Xelera with a burning passion. Must I remind you.” And remind her you did, almost everyday. You were a knight before, and the irony doesn’t pass you at all because, how could one of the finest Knights of your generation hate the very people they swore to protect?

You brush off the thought, no need to remember the past anymore, ever since Nia had imprisoned you within Khas, as her ‘personal knight’ —more like a personal pet— You hadn’t been a knight or touched a real sword in so long. You crave the long nights spent training, the comforting feeling of your sword by your hip. It was all gone now, Nia swearing up and down that nothing would hurt you now, you have no need for your equipment or your training.

But that never mattered to you, you kept training, making makeshift swords with big logs from the big tree in the garden, carving out the shape with a butcher’s knife from the kitchen, long dull now, but you had your wooden sword and that’s all that mattered. You had it hidden, and only ever use it within the confines of your room while Nia was away. No one would bother you, seeing how Nia had possessively told off all the servants to not come near you unless she was there. A blessing really, half of them were ladies in waiting, noble women.

The same icy fingers that grabbed your hand in the council room now grab your cheek, softly turning you to Nia, “What’s going on in there? That little brain of yours thinks too much, you should focus on reality,” Her thumb ghosted over your cheekbone, her grip gentle yet unyielding. “On me.” Again, that possessive side of Nia comes out, her need to control you, down to every thought you have, “How about this, we go, have fun for say half an hour, maybe an hour. And leave, have our own special, private, Valentine’s celebrations.”

The Queen of Xelera sighed, her breath smelled of decaying butterflies as it flew past your cheek, you could barely hold yourself together and not grimace. And then finally she looked away from your eyes, before releasing you from her grip, she passed by you and sat down on one of the lush loung chairs of the room, suddenly looking like her whole spirit had been sucked out of her when she sighed.

Once again Nia encapsulated you with her red eyes, staring deep deep into you, “You… I… The church has been pressing on and on… About offspring, for the royal line…” Her attempt at tugging at your heart strings is good, very good in fact you almost fell for it, but you knew better than that. You knew her far too well to fall for the classic ‘Poor me, no parents, a monarch at 16, oh someone pity me!’ routine.

Seeing that your face was as stoic as it usually was, not a single hint of you giving in, finally letting her have you, she let it go. Scoffing, Nia pushed herself up, “This is going to be great. For both of us, trust me. I will win this, and you will love me.” Nia approached you, before stepping up to give you a soft kiss on the lips, one you didn’t reject. 

“Ah, I love you. So much. I can’t wait for the ball, to show you off one more time, like our wedding day.”

And then she left you alone, to go plan the ball no doubt.

Weeks pass by, no sign of pink and red decorations, not even talk of the anticipated Love Day Ball– having been renamed to be more elegant. Even Nia seemed like her usual self, not overly excited about the upcoming holiday or the ball she wanted to throw in its celebration. Maybe she let it go? Maybe, just maybe, she had taken account of your feelings and won’t do it?

Ah, but then again, this is the ever so spoiled Queen Nia, no one tells her what to do unless its her own brain and heart.

That much you realized as you stand, several servants bustling around you in a hurry to get you dressed up and done up for the Love Day Ball, Nia herself also being pampered in the other room. She wanted the two of you to get ready in two separate rooms and meet at the ball, in reminiscence of your wedding day, which Nia looks at with fondness and you look at with resentment.

Whatever, hopefully, it won’t take too long, as she promised. Half an hour, an hour tops. Gods this is going to be miserable, that much you knew. But it isn’t only the party itself you’re dreading, but what’s after. You’ve… You and Nia are already consummated, and it was okay. But it wasn’t like you looked forward for the nights where your wife gets clingy and needy, you do what you must and… though it is embarrassing you have needs of your own. Surprisingly the only aspect of your marriage you tolerate truly.

But all those other times, it was just a means to an end, just to get rid of the hot feeling in your gut. This one? It’s more. Nia already suggested procreating numerous times before, but you always rejected it, truly against the idea of bringing a child into the world only for it to suffer by having Nia as a mother.

But tonight felt different, pressure was building, not only from Nia but from the Church as well. The Church was a power not to be trifled with, the second ruling power of Xelera, and also filled with very old noble houses, the same noble houses that built Old Xelera brick by brick.

So in a small way, you were fucked. Literally.

It doesn’t matter, you’ve given up. You will give them the heir they were desperate for, and raise them to be the best heir there is. Not only how to rule, but also how to feel for your people, for everyone who works for you, and even for those against you. You will not allow a duplicate of Nia. Not ever.

"—Your Highness? We have finished. Queen Nia is waiting for you."

The voice snaps you from your thoughts, grounding you in the present just as your fingers twitch, brushing instinctively against your hip. Muscle memory, long-ingrained, moves your hand before your mind even catches up—only this time, it doesn’t meet empty space. Instead, your fingertips press against something solid. Cold. Unfamiliar.

A sword.

Your breath stalls as you glance down, dread pooling thick in your stomach at the sight of the weapon strapped to your hip. At first, the realization alone is enough to unsettle you, but then—then—your eyes properly take in the details, and the discomfort turns into something heavier, something more suffocating. The blade is wrong. Not in its craftsmanship, no—the craftsmanship is impeccable, almost too perfect, each detail meticulously designed. But that’s precisely the problem.

It gleams under the candlelight, its scabbard a garish display of deep crimson and gold, the colors so rich and indulgent that they seem to belong more to a piece of jewelry than a weapon. The hilt, wrapped in the same shade of red that Nia favors so dearly, is inlaid with gilded filigree, swirling delicate patterns forming the crest of Xelera, the royal insignia carved with absolute precision. The entire thing is ornate, lavish, the kind of sword meant to be paraded around at ceremonies, not wielded in a fight.

You feel exposed wearing it.

Your eyes snap back to the servant, suspicion seeping into your voice as you demand, "What is this? Why am I wearing a sword?"

They do not flinch. They do not hesitate. Their response is smooth, practiced, devoid of anything resembling genuine emotion. "Her Royal Highness, Queen Nia, ordered for you to be dressed like this." Their gaze remains eerily neutral, the barest flicker of a polite, distant smile forming on their lips as they continue, "This sword was hand-tailored for you, Your Majesty."

For you.

You nearly scoff.

This is not for you. This is for her. A statement piece meant to reinforce the image she’s crafted, a mockery of what you once were, draped in her colors, her desires, as though she could shape you into something of her own design.

 You already know that whatever Nia has planned for tonight, you are exactly where she wants you to be.

Your fingers twitch, itching to rip the thing off, to cast it away like the gilded shackle it is, but you resist. This is no simple gift. It is a declaration, a masterstroke of control wrapped in the illusion of generosity. A collar disguised as a blade, crafted with precision, tailored to fit you in ways that feel suffocating rather than honoring.

The weight of it is wrong—too extravagant, too gaudy, the sheath an ostentatious blend of Nia’s beloved crimson and gold, the filigree curling into intricate designs as if to ensnare you further. Even the hilt, polished and pristine, gleams under the candlelight like a trophy meant to be displayed rather than wielded. 

She wanted you to be seen. Wanted every noble in Xelera to look upon you and know exactly whose possession you were. And worse still, she knew you would never refuse a blade, no matter how heavily it reeked of her mark.

You exhale, dragging your hands down your vest as if to steady yourself, though the weight of the medals jingling against the fabric does the opposite. Each one a gleaming remnant of the life you had before. Some earned through grueling years of service, through blood and sweat and battlefields long left behind.

Others… gifts. Trifles from Nia, pinned to your chest not out of merit but out of her desire to claim you. To drape you in accolades she decided you should have. A warrior draped in ribbons, a knight decorated as a doll. The thought churns in your gut like spoiled wine, but you force it down, muttering your thanks to the servants still bustling about the dressing room before making your way to meet your wife.

Or at least, that was the plan—until Alan, the ever-nervous Royal Advisor, nearly stumbles into your path.

“Y-Your Everlasting R-Royal Highness!” he stammers, his thin frame nearly vibrating with anxiety. “Q-Queen Nia has instructed me to—to escort you to the other entrance of the ballroom. She wishes for you to—uh—unite with her in the center of the floor for the first dance, and th-then, um, socialize afterward.”

You sigh through your nose. Of course, she does.

Alan is a jittery mess as always, hands twisting at his sleeves, his voice nearly tripping over itself in his eagerness to fulfill Nia’s orders. But despite his nerves, his heart is a good one. And unlike the others in this castle, he has no reason to manipulate you, no ulterior motive beyond doing his duty. That, at least, is something.

You nod, wordless, unwilling to expend energy on speaking when your mind is already drowning in thoughts. There is too much happening, too many strings wrapped around you like a marionette being led onto a stage. Your steps are measured as Alan guides you through the halls, the rhythmic clinking of the medals on your chest the only sound accompanying the silence. For a brief moment, you savor it—this small sliver of peace before you are thrown into the ravenous jaws of nobility. But peace never lasts long in Xelera.

Before you realize it, you are standing before the grand doors, flanked by two guards ready to haul them open at a moment’s notice. Beyond the heavy wood, the noise is already bleeding through—the sharp chatter of nobles, the clack of jeweled heels against marble, the musical lilt of artificial laughter laced with venomous gossip. The clinking of glasses and the murmur of masked pleasantries, all of it weaving into a cacophony of suffocating indulgence.

And you, draped in red and gold, adorned with medals and bound in a blade not of your choosing, are expected to wade into it like a spectacle meant to be marveled at.

How utterly miserable.

Alan quickly shuffles to the side, slipping into the shadows just beyond the doorframe, his fingers twitching as he murmurs into the walkie-talkie pinned to his belt. A few heartbeats later, a triumphant blast of horns cuts through the air, signaling the arrival of the evening’s second most important figure—you. The towering doors groan as they swing open, revealing the ballroom in all its excessive splendor. A rush of pink light spills out, momentarily blinding you, but you hold steady, your expression cool and composed.

You step forward, crossing the threshold as the weight of hundreds of gazes settles onto your shoulders. The guards bow their heads as you pass, their armor gleaming beneath the glow of the enchanted chandeliers overhead. But your focus is already set elsewhere—across the vast, opulent ballroom, at the top of a grand staircase mirroring your own, she stands. Queen Nia Bloodwen.

Draped in deep red satin that clings to her form like liquid fire, she is the centerpiece of this overindulgent affair. The golden embroidery of her gown glistens, swirling around the fabric like molten metal, a pattern of hearts and delicate filigree that should look elegant—but on her, it looks like a deliberate mockery of sentimentality. You glance down at your own attire, the same gaudy hearts stitched onto the chest and cuffs of your uniform, their metallic sheen clashing against the more dignified reds and blacks of your ensemble. The sight of them almost makes you recoil. Tacky. Overdone. Absolutely Nia.

As per the Royal Rules, you bow first—low and practiced, every movement a reminder of your rank beneath hers. When you rise, Nia mirrors your bow, though hers is slow, indulgent, as if savoring the moment rather than obeying protocol. The grin on her lips is warm, dazzling even, but you recognize the underlying mischief in her eyes.

You return her smile—a carefully crafted thing, a perfect mask of charm meant for the onlookers. The gathered nobles erupt into hushed murmurs, some gushing about how breathtaking the two of you look together, others bemoaning their missed chances to claim your affections before the Queen had ensnared you. And, of course, there are the whispers of contempt, the bitter voices that will never accept your place by Nia’s side. You tune them all out. They are as insignificant as the glittering decorations strung across the room, background noise to the real performance about to begin.

Descending the staircase with long, measured strides, you move like the knight you once were—powerful, poised, and untouchable. The distance between you and Nia shrinks with each step until you come to a stop at the base of her stairs, raising your hand toward her, the unspoken command clear.

Come to me.

Nia’s eyes gleam, her expression unreadable for the briefest of moments. And then, ever the performer, she takes her first step down, reaching for you.

Nia descends upon seeing your arrival, slow and seductive, her long dress trailing after her, dramatic. Finally, her gloved fingers meet yours, and you gently clasp her hand, as her other hand moves to rest ontop of your shoulder. You move her hand toward your face, placing a soft kiss against her knuckles. Nia blushes and smiles. She’s enjoying this. I am not.

You are painfully aware of the nobles around you, their delighted murmurs and sighs blending with the melody of the orchestra. How easily they are fooled. The kingdom’s best musicians play their strings and ivory keys with perfection, the grand hall filled with soft, sweeping harmonies, yet the only sound you care for is the one inside your head—the quiet, gnawing scream of your own restraint.

With a steady hand, you pull Nia closer, fingers splayed against the curve of her waist. The motion earns a delighted chuckle from her, but worse—it thrills the watching crowd. Their coos of admiration, their whispered praises of how deeply in love the two of you must be, make your skin crawl.

And then, as if to drive the dagger deeper, Nia leans in, pressing her cheek to your chest, softly nuzzling herself closer, deeper into you. The scent of her—roses and something sharper, something distinctly her—wraps around you like an iron noose. The dance is slow, agonizingly so. Romantic.

Romantic. God, how funny. The word alone makes bile rise in your throat. You want to rip yourself free, to wipe the pleased smirk off every noble’s face, to carve through this room until no one dares utter another lie about the beautiful, tragic love between their queen and her beloved spouse. 

But of course, you have a reputation, and a collar tied to your neck. If you disobeyed Nia would only tighten the collar, taking away the mercy she’s bestowed upon you before, taking away your privileges, your freedom. As if that weren’t already stolen from you.

The velvet voice of the seductress pressed against your chest speaks up, her voice low, low enough for only you to hear.

“So, what do you think of my gift?”

Gift? Ah, the sword. Right. “Wonderful, my Queen, I… am forever indebted to you for this mercy. I cannot begin to tell you how much I’ve yearned for the feeling of a sword at my side.” A chuckle rumbles through her chest, the warmth of it seeping into your skin as if you are standing too close to a fire. Nia always laughs when she thinks you’re joking over how you need that sword. But you truly do.

Spin. Her dress spreads, beautifully tailored and silky, it gleams under the strong lights of the room. Entrancing all those who watch into a deeper state of appreciation, of want–need to have a relationship similar to that of the Queen and her Royal Consort, such a beautiful relationship, emotional, strong. Is how they’d describe it.

You only see it as a prison, the weak prisoner controlled by the tyrant of the realm. 

You can also feel that foxy smile spread through Nia’s face, “Well, just try not to swing it at anybody. Are you aware that you think with your sword, rather than with your brain?” You smile, chuckle, so damn ironic. Making fun of the decorated knight for the instincts that had been beaten into them, as if it isn’t her that made the entire regime up. She insisted on it, when she was 18, she wanted more power and control and made up a horribly abusive routine, that barely anyone could make it through. 

That’s how you find the best, only those who go through torture are worthy! You can still remember her squeaky young voice trying to justify her new decree, you were a little older, 20 years of age. Just a year before you enlisted. You hated her for it. But look at you now, married to the very monster you swore at.

Soon enough the dance concludes, and the royal couple has finished the first dance, now allowing the rest of the ball’s guests to dance to their heart's content, as if anyone could ever compare to the two of you. Your Queen leads the both of you to the section reserved for the monarchy, a loveseat, a table with all kinds of sweets and drinks. And two servants and multiple guards surrounding the area.

It was always there, for whenever a royal decides they’d like to enjoy a ball within their palace grounds they can sit there, invite whomever they want and gossip to their heart’s desire. However many Love Day themed decorations were now strewn about the area, and the tackiest sight of it all. It was enveloped with pink vibrant mesh curtains, and pink beams stood supporting the tacky curtains.

Your lips press into a firm line as your eyes scan the unnecessary embellishments, the saccharine theme clashing horribly with the natural elegance of the palace. How could anyone think this was tasteful? It is gaudy, it is excessive, and it is so thoroughly Nia.

The servants move quickly, pulling the curtains apart with a careful flourish, granting you both an unobstructed entrance. Nia, of course, steps in first, entirely unbothered by the display of pink and gold surrounding her. She sits gracefully, crossing one leg over the other as she makes herself comfortable, exuding the air of a queen who knows she belongs in luxury, even when draped in sheer tackiness.

You hesitate for just a moment—a brief flicker of distaste flashing through you—but you school your features before it can be caught. With measured steps, you follow, lowering yourself into the seat beside her, your movements fluid, controlled. The weight of the crown is not always in its gold, but in the performance you must uphold.

Nia hums in satisfaction as she leans back into the loveseat, her fingers idly trailing along the rim of a crystal glass placed before her. The candlelight flickers against the golden rings on her hands, reflecting a soft glow over her skin. You know she’s watching you, waiting—because she enjoys this. The dance may have ended, but the game has not.

She speaks up, her lips against her glass, her voice echoing against the fine wine glass, “Well? Pick to whichever you desire, my love, everything here is for you, and of course, me.” Her sly jab at your lower rank doesn’t fly past you, but you brush it off, and go ahead to grab a drink out of the assortment, thankfully both alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks were served.

And you’d rather keep your mind awake as you play this game of cat and mouse. So you grabbed the grape juice, slowly savoring it’s taste. Though you hated being married to Nia, you couldn’t deny enjoying the high quality of everything. From food to clothes to the very bed you lay on nightly. It was all a dream. Well, except for the nightmare that is Nia.

Nia grabs your other hand, playing with it softly. A soft, enjoyable silence falls over the both of you. Calming you down, making you feel light and airy. A very rare occurrence, you haven’t felt calm and at peace in ages, and with that realization you tensed up at the dark thought that crossed your mind.

This isn’t grape juice, I’ve been drug–

Nia’s soft voice cut through your panic, “Calm down, the grape juice is not drugging you, and yes it is grape juice, the letter G is on the front of the glass, dear.” She reached up, taking the glass from your hand and twirling it, so the letter G would welcome you into a soft embrace with it’s reassurance, as if to say, ‘I am Grape Juice.’ 

You sigh, leaning back against the seat, your appetite gone you put the juice back down, letting your arm rest on the back of the love chair, the other still in Nia’s strangely warm hands. “Goodness, you really won’t forget your training, hm? Anything makes you clench up like an octopus about to spray ink.” She laughs to herself, and you grimace, looking away slightly embarrassed.

"You're awfully quiet tonight," she muses, moving a hand away from yours to lift a glass to her lips. The red wine inside mirrors the shade of her dress, dark and rich, yet there’s an unmistakable playfulness in her tone. "Did the ball steal your breath away? Or is it the decor?"

You let out a slow, measured breath. "I fear I may go blind from all the pink, my Queen." Your eyes do hurt, it’s all a bit much to go from the nice and calm yellow lights of nature and the palace to blinding pink everywhere you look.

She laughs, a genuine, amused sound that ripples through the air like silk. "Ah, but isn't it lovely?" She gestures to the decorations, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Love Day should be celebrated properly. Besides, I thought you'd appreciate the effort—" she pauses, a smirk curling at the edge of her lips, "—considering how sentimental you are."

Sentimental. You nearly scoff. Nia enjoys her little jokes, her carefully placed barbs wrapped in silk, knowing you cannot return them without consequence. She expects you to bite back, to play along, to make the night more entertaining for her.

Instead, you reach for your glass of hopefully grape juice once more, rolling the stem between your fingers. "Your generosity astounds me, truly. A sword at my hip, medals upon my chest, and now, the honor of drowning in pink curtains." You take a slow sip, savoring the way her eyes narrow ever so slightly. "I don’t know how I will ever repay such kindness."

Nia tilts her head, studying you, her amusement never fully fading but shifting into something more thoughtful. She does this often—watching, waiting, as if peeling back layers you wish to keep untouched. And yet, she already knows what lies beneath.

"Perhaps," she murmurs, setting her glass down with deliberate grace, "you could start by enjoying yourself."

Her hand moves, barely a shift of fingers, and yet within seconds, a servant steps forward, offering a delicate plate of sweets. Nia picks up a small, heart-shaped confection, bringing it close—not to her lips, but to yours.

Pink sprinkles, Red frosting, and even the cookie itself had been dyed a light pink color. I have to hunt the pastry chef that made these and slit their hands off. You look up at her, eyes locking with her own half-lidded ones, hers filled with love– no, obsession, possession. While yours, you’re sure, only have suspicion drowning in them.

A test. A demand.

The ballroom still bustles with chatter, music filling the space, but in this moment, there is only Nia, her expectant gaze locked onto yours. The ball, the decorations, the guests—they are nothing but background noise to this quiet power play between you. You consider refusing. You consider reminding her that you are not a pet to be fed by her hand.

But the collar is still there. Invisible, but unyielding.

So, with the same careful grace you have mastered in her presence, you pull your hand away from her lap, gently grasp her wrist, lean forward—slowly, deliberately—and take a bite. Eyes still locked, a flurry of sweetness envelopes your mouth, a sharp contrast to the bitter grape juice you were ingesting just earlier.

Nia, caught off guard by your unexpected indulgence, flushes a deep shade of red. She pulls back slightly, the half-bitten cookie still held between her fingers, before hastily placing both hands in her lap, as if to steady herself. “I don’t know why you’re being so… indulgent of me tonight,” she murmurs, her usual confidence faltering, her voice softer, more uncertain than usual. Her red eyes flicker with something unspoken—hope, perhaps, or something dangerously close to vulnerability. “But… I can’t say I’m not enjoying it.”

She hesitates, as if weighing the risk of her next words, then presses on, her tone delicate, but firm. “Even if you never return my feelings, even if you refuse to see what I see, I… will always adore you. You’re perfect for me.” The admission hangs between you, heavier than the perfumed air, thicker than the suffocating opulence surrounding you. She exhales sharply, like she’s said too much, then suddenly thrusts the cookie into her mouth, as if stuffing the words back down before they betray her any further. “Gosh… Just eat!”

A small breath of amusement escapes you before you can stop it. You hadn’t expected this. You hadn’t expected to enjoy this. But now, as you sit in this ridiculous pink-curtained alcove, the garish colors an assault on your senses, realization dawns upon you. It was all for you. The privacy, the carefully arranged setting, the extra effort to make you comfortable in an environment you despised—Nia had done this for you. And that realization alone makes something deep within you soften, if only a fraction.

You decide not to linger too long in your thoughts. Instead, you turn your attention back to the untouched sweets and the half-filled goblet of juice before you, indulging in the silent entertainment of people-watching. It’s always the same: hushed whispers exchanged behind lace fans, sharp smiles that don’t reach the eyes, lovers sneaking off into shadowed corridors while their spouses remain none the wiser. High society at its finest—ugly in all the ways you’ve come to expect.

Minutes pass, and the weight of the evening begins pressing against you. The noise, the spectacle, the careful balancing act of decorum—it’s all growing tiresome. Nia notices, of course. She always does. She must see it in the subtle tension creeping into your shoulders, in the way your fingers drum idly against the table, as if itching for escape.

She reaches for your hand without hesitation, fingers warm as they slip over yours, coaxing your attention back to her. “Come,” she murmurs, voice dipped in something softer than usual, something almost affectionate. “I’m growing tired. Let’s retire for the evening. I’d much rather enjoy some peace and quiet with you.” Nia whispered to your ear, and you nodded, looking back at her with relief.

And for the first time that night, perhaps even longer, your lips curve into a genuine smile. Small, fleeting, but unmistakably real.

Nia shivers. Not from the cold, not from exhaustion, but from the way that single expression sinks deep into her bones. She tucks it away like a secret, something to turn over in her mind later, to relive in the privacy of her own thoughts.

Nia wraps arm around your own, beckoning you to take the lead, and whisk her back to your shared room. And whisk her away you did, of course not without many whiny nobles begging the both of you to dance once more, to stay a while longer, oh poor us how could we ever possibly live without our rulers! Whoa is us!

Nevertheless, you lead your queen through the gilded halls, away from the grandeur of the ballroom, past lingering guests and tired servants who bow as you pass. The deeper you go into the palace, the quieter it becomes—the music fading into distant echoes, the scent of perfume and champagne left behind.

The moment you step into your chambers, the tension in your shoulders eases. The warmth of flickering candlelight greets you, and the heavy doors shut behind you with a soft thud, sealing the two of you away from the exhausting spectacle of court.

Nia exhales, releasing a breath that seems to carry the weight of the night—of her title, her responsibilities—until, in the quiet of the moment, she is left as only herself. She doesn’t move to undress right away, doesn’t immediately shed the fine jewelry or untangle herself from the corset that has likely been a torment for hours. Instead, her gaze lingers on you, those red eyes piercing through the air between you, searching and weighing. There’s a calm but undeniable intensity there, as if she’s watching a piece of art being carefully, hesitantly, unraveled.

You’re fumbling with the buttons of your clothes, fingers slipping, growing increasingly frustrated. You just want them off—need to feel the cool air against your skin, to release the pressure of the evening’s obligations, but every movement seems to turn into a struggle. Nia’s smile deepens, a slow, amused curl of her lips as she watches your desperate attempts. You manage to pop a button loose after what feels like an eternity, letting out a breath of relief, only to hear her voice.

“You enjoyed yourself,” she murmurs, her words light but dripping with the weight of certainty. It’s not a question—it’s an observation.

You scoff, frustration still lingering in your voice as your eyes narrow, an annoyed expression crossing your face. “Did I?” Your fingers continue their battle with your attire, now moving on to the stiff medals and ribbons, each one resisting you as though it had a life of its own.

Nia steps forward, her movements as fluid as water, graceful and knowing. Her eyes half-lidded, a simmering need behind them, but she doesn’t rush. She stays there, watching you like a predator assessing its prey. "You did," she insists with quiet confidence, her smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I could see it. The way you laughed with me, how you smiled at me, how you let me hold your hands, even when you could’ve pulled away... You even defended me when that imbecile lord got too close."

You flick your gaze up to meet hers, the weight of her words hitting you as you struggle to keep your composure. The scowl that once creased your face melts into a more neutral expression, and your lips part slightly, caught in a moment of confusion and unexpected warmth. You hadn’t realized just how much you had let slip in the heat of the moment.

Nia’s gaze softens, but there’s still that underlying intensity, the edge that always lingers with her. She moves forward, her steps swift and predatory. “Let me,” she purrs, her voice a mix of gentleness and desire. For a fleeting moment, you want to push her away, to insist that there’s no point in removing your clothes, that the weight of them is a prison you’re stuck in—one you’ll have to sleep in, bathe in, live in.

But before you can voice that thought, a soft, silken finger pinches your cheek. The sharpness of the gesture makes you yelp, stepping back instinctively, but her grip tightens, holding you in place. Without even needing to look, she murmurs, “Stop thinking.” Her eyes, steady and commanding, meet yours. “Focus on the present. Focus… on me.”

Her arms slip around you, pulling you flush against her, the intensity of her touch almost overwhelming. She presses herself to you, her height allowing her to stand on tiptoe, her lips brushing just shy of your ear as she whispers, "Do you really want to spend the rest of the night overthinking everything? Because I can think of far more interesting ways to spend it."

And then, that grin. That knowing, cunning grin, one that promises something more, something irresistible, as if she knows, without question, that you’ll take the bait.

[sleep-drunk-kitten]

pairing: Husband!Jake x gn!reader

genre: sickening fluff, drabble

content warnings: could give u toothache idk

summary: some fluffy thoughts about husband Jake, that is all

notes: just a lil sumin inspired by yet another delulu conversation with the one and only @nar-nia

Everything below the cut is NOT proofread

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

♡ I am fully convinced that Jake would be the type of lover who doesn't compute what shyness is when it comes to expressing how much he loves you

♡ and that would be fine, welcomed even

♡ except he's so corny about it 😭

♡ even when you're married and living together, he'll continue to use the most clichéd pickup lines on you, at the most random times

♡ "hey, my name’s Microsoft. Can I crash at your place tonight?"

♡ "we live together Jake"

♡ "if I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put ‘U’ and ‘I’ together."

♡ "it's a whole bowl of alphabet pasta, good luck"

♡ "I'd say God bless you, but it seems like he already did!"

♡ you don't respond, you have a cold and it's difficult to not smile and continue pretending to be grumpy after he made you take that god awful medicine

♡ your snarky replies and feigned annoyance never does much tho, he thinks it's cute when you scrunch up your nose in mock disgust, you're incredibly sexy when you remind him how smart and quick witted you are, and he loves to hear you laugh knowing he's the reason behind it

♡ there's no winning, but you wouldn't trade what you have with him for anything

♡ you'll be standing in the kitchen late one night, tiredly waiting for the light on the kettle to indicate that your water's ready and you can make yourself that cup of coffee you so desperately need

♡ when a pair of arms wrap round your middle, a warm body resting against your back

♡ Jake doesn't need to say anything for you to know it's him

♡ after all, nobody else fits against you so perfectly, no one could possibly know how to hold you in a way that makes you feel so safe and secure

♡ naturally, your frame melts into his

♡ you can feel Jake smiling into your neck as he presses soft kisses against your skin, knowing you're very ticklish

♡ you try to shove him off, but to no avail. It just makes him more determined. He'd dig his fingers into your sides, relishing your yelp of surprise and the high pitched giggles that follow

♡ he doesn't let up till you manage to twist yourself round, grabbing his wrists and resting your forehead against his

♡ you're both out of breath, grinning like idiots as you lightly kick his shin, informing him that he's absolutely evil

♡ he just snickers, kissing your nose and telling you he loves you too

♡ "life without you would be like a broken pencil... totally pointless"

♡ you groan, kicking him again, resting your head on his shoulder now, and whining about how he ruined the moment

♡ Jake just laughs softly, wriggling his wrists out of your slackened hold to weave his fingers through your own

♡ pressing a kiss to the side of your head, he says nothing, just starts humming a song you recognise as the one you both listened to together on your first date, when the movie you'd wanted to see was suddenly cancelled and Jake had dragged you to a park in all your sulky disappointment

♡ pulling you down to snuggle against his chest while you both sat on the edge of a slide, he'd passed you his phone and an earbud so you could both trade songs back and forth while telling each other what you loved about each one

♡ with his arms around your waist, your back tucked into his warm chest, his voice filling the quiet space, you were suddenly grateful for the "failed" movie date

♡ and you were grateful for Jake now, as he slow danced with you to music only the two of you could hear in your dimly lit kitchen

♡ with your cheek pressed into his shoulder, you tell him that you love him, and that

♡ "if I were a cat... I'd spend all nine of my lives with you..."

♡ Jake didn't know his heart could feel any bigger in his chest, but he swears it's almost suffocating, how much he loves you too

[amysterygirlwithabigheart]

this scene😭😭😭 it goes to show how alone Nia was while dealing with her problems, unable to share it with the others when the only person she could share it with was "gone". this scene really shows how much MC cares for Nia, whether it's as a friend or as a lover. MC is letting Nia know that she will never have to go through this alone anymore, it's so sweet and heartwarming to see.

[malachitezmeyka]

Decided to dig this up from the depths of my art blog as a sort of “Look at where we are, look at where we started” moment

Date of origin: January 12th 2021

Do y’all remember that one scene in Studio Ghibli’s Princess Mononoke-

This one?

I was watching the movie on Saturday while writing chapter 6 of Seeds of the Red Lotus when an idea struck my brain and refused to leave

May I present to you-

The Suiren/Kuvira crack-ship that @felicity-kitten and I came up with once in the middle of the night

Again, this started out as a crack-ship (it’s literally Suiren’s job to take Kuvira down come on-) but ngl, I’m lowkey interested in what their dynamic would be like. They are similar in a lot of ways, when you think about it.

[mamisfavmosher]

hear me out rhea x southern!reader. like reader is from DEEP in the south and rhea can’t understand her sometimes

hehehe i have some deep tennessee roots in me so i absolutely love this!

i just did some bullet points of certain sayings and scenarios i think would happen :))

sweetie from the south // rhea ripley x fem!reader

"you done started pissin' me off, Rhea. i swear we can't have anything nice in this house." you huffed as rhea broke yet another object, determined to prove her ultimate strength to you.

"lord help me"

"Rhea, god willing and the creek don't rise, I think you're gonna be WWE's biggest star yet!" you exclaimed, kissing her cheek. "What creek?" She asked, confused.

"there really ain't nothing to it, Rhea. I know you drank the last of my Kool-Aid!" "i needed something sweet and you put loads of sugar in there!" She defended herself.

"hurry up! I swear you're movin' slower than molasses over there!" you hollered at Rhea as she took her sweet time fixing her hair.

"babydoll, how much hairspray do you need?" rhea asked, walking up behind you. "you know what Dolly always says, the higher the hair the closer to God!" you smiled at her through the mirror and continued your never ending spritz of hairspray.

"oh my sweet heavens! Rhea!!" you clutched a hand over your chest as Rhea stumbled backstage with bruised ribs after Nia Jax's attack.

"well, butter me up and call me a biscuit, it is hot out here." you huffed, hands on your hips. Rhea admired you from behind, taking in the view of you in your bikini at the beach. "I'll butter you up, don't have to tell me twice. C'mere, baby." She said and pulled you to her, a cheeky grin on her face as she held up the sunscreen.

"It's just so frustrating, you know?" rhea ended her angry rant about some annoying person at work. "you're preachin to the choir, baby." you agreed with her rant casually.

"how long is the party gonna take?" Rhea asked, smugly observing your outfit as you fixed your makeup in the mirror. "Till the cows come home, probably." You shrugged, spritzing perfume on your neck. "Cows? You're bringing cows home?! Babe, maybe you shouldn't go-" Rhea looked alarmed as she quickly blocked the doorway. "I am not bringin' cows home, rhea! It's just an expression." you giggled.

"you're glowin', sugar! look at you! grinnin' like a possum eating' a sweet tater!" you hugged rhea as she came out of the bathroom in a pretty black dress. A strong look of confusion crossed her face, "a possum? i hope that's a compliment." She shrugged. "Well, you missed the rest of it! A possum eatin' a sweet tater! Means you look happy." you gave her a sweet smile and pecked her lips. "I'm always happy around you, babe."

"pretty as a peach, mami!" you commented on her appearance when she came out of the bedroom one day. "Pretty as a peach? What's that supposed to mean?" She chuckled. "Ya' know... you're lookin' prettier than a glob of butter meltin' on a stack of wheat cakes!" you exclaimed. "Babe... what?" Her face said it all. She was so confused. "It means you look dazzlin', sugar. Now, c'mon, let's go!"

i loved this, i could definitely do more at some point if anyone wanted it

[rubywonu]

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 - 𝘅𝘂 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗮𝗼

summary: in which minghao flirted with a woman at an art exhibition without realizing that she was the artist.

pairing: xu minghao x fem!reader

genre: meet cute, museum au!.

warnings: talks about struggles people face in life, kinds sad?

w/c: 0.9k

nia’s notes: i do not know where i was going with this, it may be rushed, idek anymore. but enjoy!!

this is part of cutetober!

if anyone knew minghao it was because of his crazy love for paintings and art museums. so it didn't come as a surprise when minghao decided to spend an entire day at the 'everything falls' art exhibition by yn.

even if someone was slightly interested in art, they knew of yn. so when the opportunity to visit one of your exhibitions minghao rushed to the museum. it always amused him how everyone knew of your name but not your face.

minghao walked inside the museum and just by seeing the hue of orange and brown in his peripheral view, he was sure that today was going to be amazing.

minghao slowly walked over to the first painting, basking in all the emotions. the first painting showed leaves falling from the sky, each of them more dry than the previous one. minghao took a look at the name of the painting, 'as time flies'. it was obvious what the painting was conveying but the way it portrayed the message intrigued minghao.

minghao walked to the next painting and his mouth was wide open. painted on the canvas, was a woman, her back bare as she stared at multiple mirrors, each being broken in different ways and the women in the mirrors being older or younger than another.

now minghao had gone to his share of muesems and exhibitions but they never had such a mind-blowing way to convey one's emotions.

"failed and flawed." minghao turned his head to the woman walking towards him. "it's my favorite painting." it was an understatement to say that the woman walking towards minghao was pretty, in his eyes that woman was drop-dead gorgeous.

"i haven't seen any more of them but this has to be the best one so far." minghao turned back to the canvas and each time he looked at it, a new meaning behind it evoked in him. "what's your interpretation?"

"my interpretation is that this young woman looks at herself through different eras of her life and she remembers all her failed attempts in life and how her life was flawed but they calm down after she realizes the beauty of the falls in her life." you finished still looking at the painting in front of you, minghao's eyes never left you though.

he never thought about it like that and it made so much more sense now that he understood yet another version of it. "it makes so much more sense after having a beautiful woman explain it to me."

if minghao could, he wanted to slap his face. he didn't know why he said that and more importantly he was worried how you would take the spontaneous flirting. to his surprise, you laughed and played along. "i hope so, i don't explain my thoughts about my paintings to anyone, you know."

just as minghao was going to continue, he stopped right in his tracks. "my paintings? what does that mean."

you smiled and turned towards minghao, putting your hand out for him to shake. "im yn, the artist of the 'everything fall' collection."

minghao's mouth for the second time that day was wide open. "oh my god." he rushed to shake your hand.

"you're yn? that's amazing. i love your work. and about the flirting im so sorry. minghao what were you thinking?" minghao started to ramble and it added to your entertainment as you laughed.

"it's alright. i actually enjoyed it, to be honest." you smiled at him, and minghao felt like the world was going to end. you looked like you deserved your own painting, you were stunning.

"if it's alright to ask you, what was your inspiration for such an intriguing collection." minghao asked you the question you tried to avoid for the evening but you wanted to spill it all out to him, he felt comfortable.

"it's ok, just don't sell it to a publisher." you joked around and minghao cracked a smile at your answer. "last year, i took a trip around the country and visited a bunch of villages. during my stay, i met a group of women from different places who told me about their lives and the lessons they learned during their time on this planet. they told me about incidents that changed the trajectory of their lives either for the better or worse. that's why i chose to paint this, i chose to express their grief in brush strokes and paint, i guess while listening to them, i found out about the struggles in my life as well, either i didn't want to confront them or i never knew they existed."

"if you look at all the paintings you can see how mellow the messages behind the paintings get. it starts off rough and dark but as you walk by the pictures you can the gradual calm settling in, it shows the emotions that people feel when negativity strikes their lives. it shows the way people deal with those emotions." you finished your little speech and minghao was awestruck.

you talked about your paintings and minghao felt like he could listen to them forever. although it was your first meeting, minghao felt like the two of you met a long time back, it felt like the two of you shared the same soul.

you didn't realize then but for the rest of your life, you and minghao would go on for hours about your interpretation of paintings. the only thing that changed was that instead of being strangers, the both of you would be soulmates, and the both of you would fall deep in love all because of some paintings.

taglist: @caratlibrary . @caratsland . @kflixnet . @jyiiscool . @readingaddict420 . @pixieskie . @@anemoiant . @horanghae8 . @boooooseun . @wonwooz1 . @xomingyu . @bangchansbae .@weird-bookworm .

[elliesflower]

what's love? [ellie williams]

pairing; ellie x gn!reader

cw; angst, ellie and reader in a situationship(kinda), post-golf incident (joel mentioned), slightly au (still set in jackson, ellie never went to seattle), ellie doesn't open up ab her feelings :(

an; hello! first off, rest easy to one of the greatest to ever do it, miss tina herself. while listening to her today i felt like this song was very ellie-coded tbh nd i haven't been great lately nd just wanted to throw something angsty together for my baby girl :( (i know the song's vibe doesn't necessarily match the story's vibe but i'm meaning more the lyrics). also this is more from ellie's pov so reader is gn and has absolutely no physical descriptors!!

no smut, but like all my content please 18+ only, mdni!!!

Three little words. 

One big problem. 

What is it?

“Is this the end?” 

No, not those ones. It was something else, painful, and always dancing at the tip of her tongue, making tiny beads of sweat prick at her palms and a ball of trepidation sink to the pit of her stomach. They were cursed words, seldom given thought, and never spoken aloud. The underlying topic of ninety percent of all songs ever written, and movies produced—it was cruel, really, how there was no escaping it. 

“This can’t be the end…” 

Vision blurred by the thoughts of a thousand demons, Ellie muttered back into the void. 

“It’s not,” and her voice was so quiet, it very well could have been the wind pestering the trees outside her window. 

“It’s not…?”

Oh. Right. 

Movie. 

Your legs shifted under the shared blanket, and Ellie’s eyes refocused onto your folded hands in your lap. 

“Is there a second movie, or something?” Your voice was trembling only slightly, the emotional turmoil of the last twenty minutes of the movie lacing your words. 

Ellie shook her head again, as if it would shake her brain right out. She couldn’t help but to feel bad, having practically abandoned the movie as she stewed in her own emotions. There were so many of them, fighting to get out, clawing her insides every time she looked at your face for too long.

“Sorry,” she could blame her watery eyes on the movie. Push aside her feelings. Again. “No, there’s no second one. I wish there was, though.”

Ellie wasn’t much like an open book. Or, I guess she was a very specific kind of book. That one you fell in love with based on the dust jacket description, with her complex words and inexplicit detail, but every time you’d pull it down to read, something stopped you. Life gets in the way. You’d tried and tried, oh god have you tried, to open her up; to wear her down, pressing on her spine and dog-earing her pages, keeping her infrequent tipsy confessions and three-am sleep deprived rants in the back of your mind like a filing cabinet. Pushing, but never pressuring. Ellie didn’t like pressure. 

“S’okay,” your voice was always soft with her. Couldn’t be loud, couldn’t scare her away, because Ellie Williams could fucking run. Away from her problems, as fast as her legs could carry her and as far as her heart would let her. Despite her alienation, the empty bed permanently rooted in the hardwood of Joel’s house kept her coming back. “Did y’wanna watch anything else? I’m kinda tired.” 

Even the softness of your voice couldn’t conceal your hurt, that she was shutting down. Closing you off. Keeping you at a distance. Her heart twinged, but she couldn’t look at you. She looked down at her outstretched legs, the off-white blanket cascading over them, the piece of dust she could see out of the corner of her eye. Anything. Except you. She felt cold, but your body was warm, radiating and making her shift toward you subconsciously. She hated it. 

Why is hate so much easier to express?

“You have patrol tomorrow?” It was easier to just get technical, sometimes. You nodded, before stretching your arms over your head, a yawn escaping you. “Gotta be up at four. Wesley and Nia have the flu or something, so we have to head out early to swing by their posts, too.” Ellie nodded, absentmindedly picking at her cuticles. Ignoring the sweet smell of vanilla that emanated from your body as your arms went over your head. 

She was so proud of herself when she found you that bar soap out on patrol, neatly tucked away in a dusty white vanity. You were so happy, so grateful, always so grateful that she was thinking of you. That she perceived you in such a way.

And she almost fucking said it, that night. Almost ruined everything. Those three little words. She was high, probably on some weed, but also on how your eyes sparkled when you were happy, the way your eyes crinkled slightly at the corners and you shifted your body weight side-to-side excitedly. Your emotions were quite obvious, most of the time. It made Ellie want to cry. 

“That sucks,” she mumbled, and she couldn’t help it now. You were like a magnet, she was sliding down against the pillows, watching the credits roll on the small screen past the end of her bed. She could hear you breathing, deep and careful. On edge. Why were you so on edge?

“It does,” you agreed. Ellie didn’t look away from the screen. Sinking, slowly, slowly, slower...her head was resting near your rib cage, now. She could feel you breathing. And she felt you slide down to match her position, turning your body to face her, silently and without explanation. It was better that way. 

“You’ll sleep here tonight?” And it felt strangled, coming out of her throat. She didn’t need to say anything, though. Of course you were sleeping in her bed. Tonight, and the night before that, and before that…but she felt you nod against her side, and her arm slid up to allow you access to her chest. No explanation. Ellie was really bad at explaining. 

“You’re cold,” your voice was muffled against the fabric of her gray hoodie. Ellie almost smiled. Almost. 

“You’re warm,” she retorted, and she feels your heart pulse faster against the skin of your back. The movie’s end credits became the soundtrack to the night. Soft and pensive. Like you. 

Ellie watched as your breathing eventually slowed, your shoulders rising and falling rhythmically as you drifted away into sleep. She was always jealous of that, though of course, like everything else, she’d never admit it—how your tiredness always let you drift into a blissful dreamland, your right hand twitching where it usually sat curled loosely atop her chest as you slept. You moved a lot, she noticed, and talked sometimes, too. Sleep didn’t come easy to people like Ellie. 

And so, she was absolutely, positively, awake and conscious when you let out a breathy sigh in your sleep, legs twitching slightly against her bottom half before settling back into her chest. A whisper escaped your lips, so sweet it may have been laced with vanilla, too. 

“I love you…” 

But this time, Ellie couldn’t stop her tears.

[eqt-95]

💛 for the love of god

it took a minute to think of a concept for this one, but just know your 'ask' timing was perfect.

💛 reunion kiss / relief

- - - - - - - -

On rare occasions, Lena would default to her most recent takeout order and find ten pizzas delivered with no Kryptonian stomach to eat them. This was how a new tradition started whenever Kara was off-planet. Instead of sister night, Lena had Alex, Kelly, and Esme over to binge on too much pizza and ice cream while playing round after round of Candyland and UNO. 

As Esme got older, the games got more complicated. Kelly politely bowed out, choosing instead to tuck into the couch with a good book while the other three hashed out whether Alex was allowed to build a settlement one road segment away from Lena’s. 

She was not.

Slowly but surely, the competition grew so fierce that they elected to find activities no one was any good at. First it was bowling, then miniature golf, then a pasta-making class. She learned to fill her time; to keep busy; to reinforce existing friendships.

Sometimes Kara’s trips would last weeks. Sometimes longer. On those occasions, Lena would find herself going out with Nia and brainstorming new ideas with Brainy. When those weren’t enough, she spent her evening checking through the calculations on the latest upgrades to Kara’s suit.

Just to be sure.

Just in case.

Just so Lena could sleep through the night.

This was the life of being married to an intergalactic-traveling superhero.

Which was why it came as a bit of a shock when Brainy was contacted by a twelfth level intellect from the future with a problem. A problem that Brainy couldn’t fix alone. A problem that required the help of Lena.

“How long?” Kara asked, her pacing taking a toll on the stone flooring.

“Brainy thinks just shy of a month,” Lena said. She was neck deep in research, having spent the last twelve hours sifting through the transmission sent through time and space to them. “But neither of us will know until we get there.”

“A month?” Kara gawked. “An entire month?”

“Darling, we’ve been apart for longer,” Lena said with the distracted focus that meant she was not seeing the look of distraught despair on Kara’s face. Nor did she see the pout slowly forming on Kara’s lower lip. 

And so Lena left for charts untraveled and paths unseen. Her and Brainy arrived and time ceased to exist: meals and sleep were foregone while they dove into the problem (a minor issue with the space and time continuum brought on by a narcissistic giant of a prince from the Promethean Galaxy with a knack for tinkering with the past) alongside the tentacled-inhabits of the plant. Days passed, then weeks. Only one minor setback left them scrambling, but the tiny light at the end of their intergalactic-ending dilemma was glowing bright and strong and-

An explosion shook the building. Tables were rattled, lab equipment crashed to the floor, and it was all Lena could do to stay standing. Clinging to the table, she glanced toward Brainy who was struggling to keep a pile of samples from tumbling into disarray.

“What was that?” 

“It would seem the south wall has been penetrated.”

“The what-?” Lena asked, racing toward the window overlooking the base camp. And sure enough, a stream of smoke was rising from the tiny outpost. “Are we under attack?”

“I would put those odds at 74%.”

“But what would-”

“Code Meteor!” 

Brainy and Lena both turned to find an armed guard burst through the door, panic-stricken and out of breath. “ I repeat, Code Meteor,” he huffed, his tentacles gripping the doorway for support. 

“Code ‘what’?” Lena asked. 

The answer came as “Shelter in place!”

And then he was gone.

“Well, that has certainly put, as you say ‘a wrench in our plans’,” Brainy noted. “Shall we?”

Three more crashes could be heard, each one closer than the last. Brainy has broken into the surveillance system, but it seemed the initial attack had severed whatever streaming connection existed.

“It is quite surprising they still haven’t integrated a second line of defense for this. Especially after the attack of Cyborgs in-”

“Brainy,” Lena interrupted. Fear dripped into her voice, her knees were held tight to her chest, and the table they were taking cover under did nothing to provide any sense of relief. “I don’t need a history lesson. I need to know if we’re about to die.”

“That is quite the hyperbole,” Brainy assured. “By my calculations, there is only a 38%-”

Another crash, now even closer, rippled through the structure.

“Hmm, make that 54% chance of dying.”

“Attack at will!” came a shout from the hallway, and Lena’s heart jumped to her throat. 

The ensuing sounds did nothing to help: A grunt of impatience was followed by the rattle of gunfire and the scattering of footsteps drawing nearer and nearer. Lena swallowed against the knot in her throat, feeling a wave of dread overcome her. She looked for a weapon - any weapon, and found a screwdriver.

After everything, this was how she would die - by a random attack on some random planet in a galaxy that wasn’t even her own. Worse was that Kara wasn’t here.

“Brainy, Brainy,” she stammered. “I need that.”

She ripped the computer away from him and started typing madly, hoping there was enough time to connect; to see Kara’s face; to say goodbye.

The door burst open and smoke infiltrated the space. It was too late; her fingers weren’t fast enough; the connection was too slow; it was too late-

“Guys, this is really - ooph - eelly unnessessry.”

Lena froze.

“Flank her from the left!” came a commanding cry. More gunshot. More grunts. More body parts hitting body parts.

“Mm oht - ere - oo hur yoo,” the voice came again. The muffled but all too familiar voice that drew Lena out from under the table and toward the cloud of smoke. “I yust - wan oo see - my wie!”

Only then did the silhouette appear. It was a silhouette Lena would recognize anywhere, even if it was being attacked by no less than ten leg-sized tentacles. 

“Kara?” Lena asked.

“-Ena?” came a voice from beneath the coils of appendages.

“What… what are you doing here?”

“I issed yoo.”

“Darling,” Lena sighed, a smile spreading where fear had stood moments earlier.

“Ma’am, do you know her?”

She could only nod and close the distance between them. The guards seemed to understand and withdrew their tentacles of rope, and slowly but surely, Supergirl was unraveled from the slimy layers of them.

“I missed you too,” she continued, then wrapped her arms around Kara’s shoulders and drew her into a hug. 

“You were just gone for so long and I don’t know how you do it. How do you do it?” Kara rambled into the crook of Lena’s neck. 

Lena could only chuckle and pulled Kara tighter against her. “A lot of practice. And a lot of leftovers.”

“Does this mean you’ll forgive me?” Kara sighed.

“Well first, could have just called,” Lena huffed, pulling back to see the expected pout and look of apology. “And second, you’ll need a shower, because this won’t do.”

“Fair.”

“And you’ll need to stick around and help fix everything you damaged-”

“But I was being really careful!” Kara huffed. “It’s not my fault they started with the guns and slime!”

“Then, after all of that,” Lena said with an arched brow that left no room for debate, “Yes, I suppose I can forgive you.”

And the pout became a grin, and Lena couldn’t resist leaning in to capture her wife into a ‘premature’ reunion kiss.

- - - -

ask game