#if u really think about it this is her i don’t wanna be saved by sexxy red

[sojutrait]

SCREAMIN BUT DADDY I LOVE HIMMMM IM HAVING HIS BABYYY

[thessaralka]

Solas romance is basically:

Inquisitor: hey Solas:. …. Inky: I gotchu boo bear ❤️ Solas: choking th-thank you? Inky:… ;) you're not like other girls Solas: I - no I’m not. Thank u for noticing. Inky: ;;;) Solas: ur hot and I’m into u and I might plausibly want to test that theory Inky: choking Inky: so u have feelings for me? Solas: n-noo Inky: tests that theory Solas: fade tongue

Solas: moaning oh hehe this is a dream btw ~ Inky: wow. Hot. sooo. Wanna? Solas: there are....considerations. like mythal's geas over me which is heavily implied in the subcontext throughout my entire narrative arc. Inky:……. U don’t have to do this alone. I felt your tongue in my mouth. I said I gotchu.

Inky: I SAIDDDD I gotchu. Solas: choking vhenan ar lath ma I haven’t and will never forget that kiss smooching noises Inky: damn alright mf Solas: vhenan ❤️❤️❤️❤️ Solas: wow I love sex and parties reminds me of the good ol days let's dance babe Inky: ??? Solas: in the fade ofc. I don't party. Inky: o-okay Solas: mythal's temple…. It's all coming back…. Memories of my pa- the fade. you really cannot rely on friends at all. untrustworthy mfs Inky: ??? damn you're being negative as hell right now you tryina fuc Solas: no. Actually, Yes. Come with me vhenan. Solas: I have so much to tell you. Choking the truth. Your face. The Dalish are but simple fools - Inky: what the fuck Solas: kissing and grabbing ass, choking back tears we cannot. Your duty - I am but a distraction crying Vhenan: … I said whatever you're going thru you don't have to go thru alone. I meant that. Wyd? I love you. Don't leave me. Let's be worms together. Solas: choking and crying I'm such a piece of shit vhenan I can't Vhenan: 😭😭😭😭???????? Vhenan: 😡😡😡😡!!!!!!!!!!!

Solas: heartbroken and wracked with so much guilt on main Cole: all you have to do is tell her. she thinks it's her fault why don't you just tell her? Solas: I'm a piece of shit Cole please stop trying to help me I'm unlovable Vhenan: 💔💔💔???? Solas: harden your heart and use that pain against C-Corypheus. Solas: wh-what we had was real vhenan 😭😭💔💔😭 Solas: leaves Vhenan: 🚬😭 what the fuck even was that

Vhenan: Cullen wyd Vhenan: nevermind. Ew

Vhenan 2 years later: *putting on a clown nose* wdym Solas is an agent of Fen'Harel. Of course. He has been helping us all along ☝🏻😍 Everyone except Cole: you stupid bitch Cole: you see him ❤️ Vhenan: Solas idgaf that you're the dread wolf you should have trusted me. Solas: ….. I'm such a bastard. Solas: I'm going to tear down the veil and kill you and everyone you love. Vhenan: *in full clown makeup* let me help you Solas. You don't have to do his alone. I am literally just as crazy as you. Solas: choking I walk the din'anshiral vhenan I can't let you love me when I'm like this. Vhenan: you stupid mf. I will save you from yourself. Solas: choking and crying my love~ kissing sounds Solas: sobbing I will never forget you…. But you should forget me… I'm such a loser and horrible person. Bye Vhenan: this stupid mf. I will find his ass and make him see.

Solas for 8 years: writing vhenan unsent letters and reading smut and painting murals about it all emo Vhenan: wearing clown makeup this stupid mf. I love him still. Rook: damn okay. Vhenan: *putting on clown shoes* can we save him from himself at this point in time maybe? Morrigan: thinking with your pussy Inquisitor? Vhenan: I have literally never stopped thinking with my pussy from the moment I saw him

Vhenan: Solas, stop. Solas: choking vhenan what are you doing here? I am a peice of shit. Vhenan: Idgaf. You're my peice of shit. Solas: I cannot stop. I am under a geas by Mythal and the writers didn't want to extrapolate on that further even though it is the only thing that makes my character motivations make sense 💔 Mythal: I release you from my service btw. Solas: wow suddenly I am free to make descisions that align with my morals and values. Crazy. Rook: wack. I wanted to punch you. Solas: I will go and seek atonement. Vhenan: not alone you aren't. Solas: crying where I am going is terrible vhenan. Vhenan: I SAID I GOTCHU. WE GOING TO THE BLIGHTED ASS BLACK CITY TOGETHER TO BE WORMS ETERNAL. AND IT WILL BE FINE BECAUSE I SAID SO. Kissing noises Solas: 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 thanks for bringing my woman back to me Rook, serving your only narrative purpose ❤️. Rook: whatever. Vhenan: ;)))) ❤️

[angelfic]

Howdy! Could I request a Theodore Nott, secret relationship, “don’t leave me… please”. ❤️

here u go!! i actually really like this idea and kind of wanna recycle it for a longer fic maybe.. 🤔 thank u for the request! 💌

theodore nott x reader + secret relationship + “don’t leave me… please”

➺ part of my 2k milestone writing game

You’re stressfully stirring sugar into your tea in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld Place when Mattheo and Theodore turn up, bruised and bloody in the hands of Alastor Moody.

The Auror had sent a message in advance through his Patronus, alerting members of the Order that he was heading to headquarters with two death eater defectors. An hour of hoping it’s who you think, and three cups of tea later, you breathe a sigh of relief when you realise Mattheo and Theo are alive.

The way Theo is leaning his weight on Mattheo doesn’t slip past you, and as soon as he finds you among the others, you rush forward.

“Hi,” Theo whispers, the greeting reserved only for you despite the numerous others in the dining room. His eyes are drooping slightly as he sways on his feet. Nonetheless, he gives you a weak smile. “I’m okay. I promise.”

You nod slowly, brows furrowed in concern despite his reassurance. Ignoring Moody’s confused stares, along with the whispering happening behind you, you do a quick scan of Mattheo and find that he’s definitely had worse injuries from spontaneous fist fights during your years at Hogwarts.

“Are you okay?” you mouth at him, just in case. He winks at you in answer.

Moody, seemingly snapping out of his confusion, turns to you and raises a brow. “You know these two, then?” he asks gruffly, a hint of suspicion creeping into his voice.

“We all went to school together,” Dean Thomas pipes up, saving you from having to stumble over your words in an attempt to explain your relationship with Theo.

There’s no doubt in your mind that everyone in the room suspects you and Theo are more than just schoolmates, but you don’t move to address anything. The implications of you being in love with an ex-death eater aside, it’s none of their business. Moody doesn’t quite seem to accept this immediately.

”School,” he mutters, nodding begrudgingly. “And how well do you-”

“Alastor,” McGonagall cuts him off sharply. Peering at him over her spectacles, she purses her lips. “You can get to interrogating them about being Transfiguration partners after they’ve recovered. These boys need a healer. Now.”

“Yes, yes,” Moody replies grumpily, reluctantly letting them go to open the door to the hall. “We’ve got Poppy in the living room. She’ll fix them up, nice and quick.”

You step back to give the two boys space to make their way to the Healer, but Theo catches your hand and grips it tightly. “No. No, Y/N can do it. Just give her some of the medicine, I’m not seeing anyone else.”

You open your mouth to object, wanting Madame Pomfrey to assess him properly, but the pleading in his eyes has you hesitating.

“Don’t leave me…” Theo’s voice becomes lower, quieter and earnest. “Please.”

“Okay,” you exhale, cupping his face with your hand and stroking your thumb over his cheekbone. You look over at Professor McGonagall for confirmation and when she sighs and nods, you respond with a grateful smile before turning back to Theo. “I won’t leave you.”

Mattheo clears his throat, popping the little bubble you and Theo have found yourself in and making you look away, cheeks warm. Walking over to where Moody holds the door open, Mattheo gives you both a knowing look before speaking to the rest of the room. “I guess I‘ll be seeing dear, old Poppy alone then. Nothing she hasn’t fixed before.”

Taking this as your cue to leave, you wrap an arm around Theo’s waist to support him as you make your way out of the room and up the stairs to an empty room. You help him to sit on the bed and disentangle your hand from his, dropping a kiss to the inside of his palm. “I need to go get the stuff from Madame Promfrey, I won’t be a minute-”

“Not yet,” Theo pleads, hooking pinky finger around your own and tugging lightly. “I’m not that injured, just… come here for a second.”

Your resolve crumbles immediately due to not having seen Theo since school ended a month ago, during which he was trying to leave the other side of the war without getting himself killed. You sit next to him on the bed, but he immediately reaches over to manoeuvre you by the waist until your legs are wrapped around him in a straddling position. Theo presses a soft kiss to your lips and the pure love radiating from him makes your heart jump to your throat. When he pulls away, he looks more relaxed and content than he has in months.

“Hi,” he says, a gentle smile playing about his lips while he fingers the hem of your shirt where it sits at your back. Tingles run down your spine where his cold fingers brush against your skin and you end up leaning into his chest even more, causing his smile to deepen. “I missed you, darling.”

“What, Crabbe and Goyle weren’t good company?” you tease, tilting your head. Theo scoffs in disgust, lightly tugging on a lock of your hair and looking at you expectantly. “I missed you too, Theo. So, so much. I’m glad you got out.”

“Me too,” he sighs, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder. You both stay in silence for a few minutes and you bask in the warmth of Theo’s breaths fanning over your collarbone. He nestles his face into your neck and seems perfectly happy just to stay there when he speaks. “It was torture staying away, you know. I’m never leaving your side again.”

You run your fingers through Theo’s hair, lightly scratching at his scalp and biting back a smile when he lets out a sound halfway between a sigh and a groan. “You being glued to me is probably going to make it clear that we’re more than ex-Transfiguration partners, by the way.”

“I bet you anything they all already know,” Theo murmurs distractedly. You frown and sit up straighter to look at him, raising a curious brow in questioning. He looks at you like it’s obvious. “Mattheo is downstairs, unsupervised. If he hasn’t told everyone by now…”

You shake your head, shifting to move off Theo’s lap. A pout forms on his lips, but he reluctantly lets you stand. “I better go do some damage control while I go get the stuff from Pomfrey. Merlin knows what embarrassing things Mattheo is telling them right now.”

“I can think of a few things,” Theo says, his innocent voice contrasting with the devious smirk on his face. “Like the time we were in the Astronomy Tower and you were too loud, so-”

“Right, okay!” you interrupt loudly, screwing your eyes shut in embarrassment as you try your best not to relive that particular memory. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the way Theo is cracking up, you smile sweetly at him. “You haven’t had any injuries to the head, have you?”

“No, love,” he replies, grinning. “Why?”

You grab a pillow and swing it into Theo’s face, knocking him backwards on the bed. Crossing your arms in satisfaction, you falter when he stays laying down and moans in pain.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” you rush out, panicked as you move the pillow out of the way to climb onto the bed and hover over him. Theo cracks his eyes open slightly, his face scrunched up in discomfort and your stomach drops. “Theo, where does it hurt?”

“Here, come closer,” Theo winces, gesturing you forward, closer and closer and you furrow your brows in confusion. When you’re close enough, he snakes his hand around to the nape of your neck and pulls you into a deep kiss, burying his fingers in your hair. You don’t bother admonishing him, your head getting dizzy from the feel of his lips moving against your own. You only pull away when you hear sudden laughter coming from downstairs. Theo doesn’t look ashamed in the slightest when you do. “All better.”

“Not yet, you’re not,” you say, rolling your eyes and sitting up again. You make sure you put all of your weight on the mattress to do so, just in case you actually do end up hurting him. “I’m actually going downstairs now, okay? The idea of Mattheo talking to McGonagall is driving me crazier by the minute.”

“Come back quickly?” he asks lightly, but there’s a hint of pleading in the way his hand circles your wrist. You give him a reassuring smile and another quick peck on the lips.

“Always.”

[jestericulating]

i feel like its my curse to fall in love with side characters but i feel like we dont appreciate mithara’s brilliance enough

like ur gonna look me in my eyes and tell me u willingly miss out on an incredibly written character just bc she doesn’t have as much content and you gotta murk a few twerps to get her. knock her out like the rest of us

like she’s such a fascinating woman. for someone so vindictive and evil she’s so willing to be immediately vulnerable with you and voice her concerns just because you decided to save her and she recognises that most people in their right mind would leave her for dead but You Don’t and she literally doesn’t waste a second expressing her gratitude. who else willingly does that without me having to wrench it out of them huh

and i think it’s so fascinating because she’s literally a commander And Also a noble and yet you can ask her about anything to do with home and her life before and she’ll tell you it all so willingly just because you asked. she doesn’t hide anything from you; everything is out in the open and straightforward from the get go. she’s a no nonsense woman and i deeply respect that

it could also just be a me thing but there’s something i really appreciate about her not really having any specifically romantic greetings. she’s stalwart and alert and ready to run into battle for you until you ask her for a kiss and then her voice softens and she’s sweet and teasing you and it just feels So Much More Natural you know?? i find some of the other romances dialogue to be a little too mushy or on the nose for my liking so minthara is hard Not to romance every time. even on a redemption durge run she doesn’t chastise or get upset with you for not taking the netherbrain for yourselves Even Though it was what she had been dying to do since she joined your party. she doesn’t even really need your apology, she’s just happy to be by your side more than anything and i think thats what makes her so Ride or Die because all that matters to her is you!!!! even at the reunion party that she says she doesn’t particularly care to be at (i dont believe her for a second i KNOW she likes some of the companions deep down) she hangs around and waits just so that you can hang out with your friends because she wants you to be happy. she is a very ambitious and selfish woman and yet as soon as you get with her she pushes all of her selfishness aside Just to account for you. if you dont wanna do it then it won’t happen. end of story. she’s not gonna force you even if it’s literally all that she wants. yeah the compromise is that instead of doing the Massively Evil Thing you just do a Smaller Evil Thing but i dont ever play characters that Aren’t in some way morally dubious so whatever

i fear there is no one so fiercely loyal and supportive of any decision you make than minthara and i’ll die on that hill

[octoberautumnbox]

Orange-Tinted Sunset

Kiss of Life Belle & Male Reader

Categories/warnings: fluff, smut, angst, mentions of alcohol n bein drunk, technically not cheating but also sorta close enough idk u be the :jujj:

Word count: 2.6k

a/n: another prompt fic! based on kiof's Nothing i swear im on hiatus lmao but here it is! thanks to @mintwithchoco for prompt and hosting! as well as @sinswithpleasure for beta and @0cta9on for saying i was good at everything so i crode strove to prove em wrong lmao

~~~

The nightclub spun around you, the alcohol clouding your thinking and doubling your vision. A strange feeling set in–you really were a guppy in a small pond. Whatever roaring applause you got from the crowd after that impromptu karaoke bout was nothing compared to the girl that came next. You can’t even work up the energy to be mad; her voice is the single most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard, flowing through the air and filling up every silence in the world, and it doesn’t help one bit that everyone else thought so too.

Her name, just her name. You wouldn't mind going home with nothing to show for the whole weekend as long as you knew what she was called–you have to know. Against every single ounce of common sense you have left, you walk up to her, calling in every favor from the universe you’ve saved up until this point. “H-hey,” you stumble, clearly more nervous than you should be. 

She turns around, and as her hair settles onto her back, she replies, “Oh, hi. Can I help you?” Her smile lights up your world, and you gain confidence and lose it again just as quickly. She’s gorgeous too, and how could you live with yourself if you fucked up with a girl like this again? 

And you realize you’re staring. “Hi,” you start again, “sorry, I, uhh, you killed it up there. Best I've heard in a while.” Pardon yourself for the understatement; she was exceptional. Stop yourself from saying more; she’s probably already heard everything you want to tell her. 

All she does is giggle in response, and you swear you’re face-to-face with a goddess. You slip, so just fall deeper and remember to blame the alcohol later on, “I mean it. You’re like nothing I’ve heard before. Can I ask for your name?” 

Her face sours almost imperceptibly, but your nerves don’t let you miss it. She holds back a grimace, but ultimately, she replies, “It’s Belle. Sorry, is that all? I have to go soon.” She shifts in her chair, no doubt trying to escape the situation, and it dawns on you you might look worse than you feel. 

“Y-yeah, that’s all. I actually wanted to buy you a drink, maybe. One musician to another. You were amazing.” Your voice holds together for the most part, but it doesn’t change her demeanor. 

“Thank you, it’s just…” she hesitates, breathing deep, “whatever this is, I don’t want to get involved. You’re nice, but I just… I can’t handle anything else right now.” The discomfort leaves her features as a quiet sadness replaces it. You’re no expert, but even a dunce like you could tell she was tired more than anything else. 

“No worries, I respect it. I’ll leave you alone.” It’s strange how you feel the lightheadedness drifting away and your senses coming back, almost like you’ve saved up quite a bit of good karma to ground yourself like this. Debatable, but you still have enough sense in you to offer, “Here’s my number, no hard feelings if you throw it away. I at least wanna buy you some nachos tonight as thanks for that gorgeous song. Good night, Belle,” before paying for them and ultimately heading for the door, above all trying in vain to forget about her. 

~~~

It’s familiar in two ways, being hungover at noon, sitting in a restaurant too fancy for what you’d ever typically be found dead in. On one hand, it reminds you of one of the best days of your life–your beloved sat across from you in a simple floral sundress while you shared a brunch of French toast and orange juice. 

“Thanks for coming out,” Belle said in a tiny voice, “I'm sorry about last night. I want to get to know you better.” She offers you a pancake, and once you accept she deposits it onto your plate, followed by a just-right helping of maple syrup. 

You try to avoid sounding humble, but there’s no other way to put it. “There's not much to know, really. I just came here on a whim. Needed to get away from it all, broaden my horizons. Us singers just gotta, you know? If I didn't, I'd never have found you.” 

“I hear you. I'm here to take a step back too. Things became too much to handle recently,” she relates as she takes careful bites of her cereal. For the first time since last night, you see each other's eyes, and a kindred spirit in you pulls on your heartstrings. It's an unspoken pain that's anything but obvious, and yet you see it in each other as clear as day. 

“Fucking exes, right?” the pair of you say in unison. A hearty laugh escapes both of you, and afterwards the pancakes slide down a bit easier. 

Belle calms herself first, “So you get how I was last night. I'm sorry, none of it was your fault.” You offer her a napkin and pour her another cup of ginseng tea, which she sips with an ethereal sort of grace once she finishes talking.

“Of course. I'm sorry too,” you sigh, picking at your scrambled eggs, “but at least we're recovering. I'm actually itching to write a new song once my hangover clears.”

“Me too, it’s just so freeing to let my feelings out onto songs. Plus all it costs is a pen and paper–much cheaper than therapy,” she agrees.

On the other hand…

~~~

“Blue palm trees?” she giggles. “What does that mean?”

The waves lap idly at your feet, scattering sand over your toes and hers. The calming ocean breeze washes over the both of you and weakly ruffles the paper she easily holds.

“It's called a hook, Belle. It captures the audience's attention, you should know this shit” you jab, drawing out more of her laughter. “Just let me be, okay? I'm the one with the pencil.”

She settles again, “Okay, okay, fine,” and sits back up straight. Another wave washes the sand away from the tops of your feet, dragging them back to the depths of the sea. In a split-second of feeling the grains slide off your skin and away with the water, you feel deep inside that maybe it'll be easier to walk again. 

“You know,” she starts gently, “this isn't too bad. I came here determined to grow stronger, but I don't feel any different–just more of what I was before. And weirdly…” Belle pauses, taking a short glance at you, meeting your eyes.

You can't help it; she's just that beautiful. The orange-tinted sunset behind her offers her a halo of warmth and sincerity, and it captivates your whole being to be able to spend a moment like this again, when the world is just right, especially with her. The waterline reaches up to your soles once more, tickling the both of you and sprinkling new grains between your toes before drawing back and taking the old away. 

���... Weirdly,” you continue for her, “I'm okay with that.” Your eyes never leave hers, and she stays, too. It takes a moment of serenity for you to finally let yourself think that this might be something more, that maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world to stay with a girl like her. 

It takes a moment of serenity for you, but it seems like forever in an instant. Memories rush back like the ocean soaks the shoreline, swapping old sand with new, but you could never, can never, tell the difference. It's the same grains washing your feet, slipping between your toes, embedding themselves in your life so well that random moments like this bring you to the past when you least expect it. It reminds you of a history you'd give anything to forget: walking on a beach like this with a girl you thought you'd spend the rest of your life with–to an extent, you still do. How could you fuck up with a girl like that?

~~~

It's the worst gamble the both of you could take, and deep inside you knew there was no winning this. You felt it in your bones, from the beach to the elevator up until before you burst through her door with her, but the feeling is gone now, and for sure it’s gone for her too.  

“Mmm, just like that,” she whispers straight into your ear. You swear you’ve never tasted anything as sweet as the sweat on her neck, so much so that you never want your lips to leave her. She pulls you closer as if she could, maybe only decreasingly aware that her back was up against the wall and that even grains of sand couldn’t breathe in the space between you two. 

It takes no time at all, and you find yourself laid back and vulnerable on her mattress. Belle towers over you, straddling to keep you in place, as if you’d go anywhere. In a flash her shirt leaves her, then her shorts, and finally her underwear haphazardly thrown to the floor. Your own clothes follow even less ceremoniously, letting nothing get in the way of the woman of your dreams. 

“Fuck, that’s good…” she says as she lowers herself onto your length. You relish in the feeling of sliding into her, pushing her walls apart all the while lewd confessions spill from her lips. Your hands find her hips and you grip her tight, guiding her up and down as she bounces on your cock, “You’re so fucking tight, Belle…” while she places her hands on your chest to support herself as she takes you inside her over and over again, “I can’t get enough of you… I need you so bad…” losing yourself in her love. 

It’s the simplest thing to grab her wrists like this, to throw her onto the bed and fuck her yourself. She hits the mattress with a quiet thud, and without even a moment of respite you force everything into her again. 

“Gnnhhh, shit, it’s so good, you’re so good…” she gasps and grunts with every thrust like it knocks the air out of her each time. The bed creaks under the two of you: she tries to pull you close again, so you indulge her and meet her where she is to kiss. Amidst your tongues dancing in each other’s mouths, she moans like her life depends on it, “Yes, yes, oh my god, yes–” 

It’s the easiest thing to get lost in a girl like her. She’s perfect in every way you can think of–a smile to die for, a heart to protect, a body to worship. Each moment you bottom out in her, a spark goes off between your lips and hers, and it only pulls you in deeper, pulls you away farther from where you are. There’s nothing else to think about when you’re with a girl like this except her name and the way her body feels on yours. It’s so dreadfully incessant, unceasing in your head, that you thank your lucky stars you’re able to hold back most of your moans: Yuna, Yuna, Yuna, “Yuna…”

~~~

The sun blazes through the window and straight onto your eyelids, jolting you awake. The bed creaks as you bounce slightly on the mattress, your mind rushing to find your bearings, when right beside you, Belle stirs but then promptly falls back asleep. 

A grave sense of guilt overtakes you, clawing from the pit of your stomach all the way up to the back of your throat. There's nothing to say to her, nothing to do, and you know it. How could you fuck up with a girl like this? 

Your phone's alarm rings on a far-off table. Rush over to it, careful but quick so Belle doesn't wake. You knock over an ottoman in the process, but you're able to turn it off in time. Then it hits you: your flight leaves in a couple hours. There's no more time to think–gather your clothes and rush back to your own hotel. 

“Hour and a half,” you think, “more than enough time to repack and go.” Your door crashes open and you heave your suitcase onto the bed, haphazardly throwing everything you own back into it. The zipper disagrees with you for a moment until you finally bend it to your will, albeit threatening its life in the process.

The cabbie drives as fast as he can legally go for you, apparently already knowing the protocol, and people and buildings whizz past in a giant blur. He drops you off soon enough, and with only minutes to spare and the gate calling you over the intercom, you board your plane. The cold of the seat comforts you and calms your nerves, and once the hurried energy leaves your body, all that's left is fatigue that demands to be addressed. 

You scarcely notice the window beside you beyond pulling it shut. The cushions aren't as comfy as your bedding from the night before, but you can't attempt to complain in a state like this. You don't even feel your train of thought slipping away…

~~~

You’ve put it off long enough, the anxiety rending the lining of your stomach. In between your own calls and texts to Yuna you find yourself on the receiving end of the restlessness of your endlessly repeating ringtone and text notifications. You wait another few seconds to make sure she’s done, even tossing your phone onto your old bed to fetch a glass of water, before picking it back up and seeing the same number of messages. It's time. 

hey, where'd you go? Belle, 8:46 AM

it's a nice song, I'll send it over in a bit. call me? Belle, 8:50 AM

I'm at the restaurant again lol come on over Belle, 9:02 AM

you're really gonna make me miss you huh? hahaha Belle, 9:33 AM

*2 missed calls*

this isn't funny. pick up Belle, 10:14 AM

*2 missed calls*

you're serious? so last night was nothing to you? Belle, 11:15 AM

*1 missed call*

wow, what a fucking piece of shit you are Belle, 11:17 AM

*4 missed calls*

is it something i said?  Belle, 2:46 PM

let's just talk Belle, 3:30 PM

*2 missed calls*

just tell me what I did wrong please, I told you I can't handle this Belle, 3:37 PM

*8 missed calls*

don't do this to me Belle, 5:47 PM

*1 missed call*

fine asshole i don’t need you and fuck your song. Belle, 7:15 PM

don’t ever call me. Belle, 8:40 PM

The screen dims under your command. Your phone flies off into the folds of your bed once more, granting you your last moment of control. Belle finally stopped, and Yuna never made herself heard. At least one of you moved on.

You stand in your cold, empty bedroom, in the same dingy apartment you tried leaving behind. The same torn-up pages are scattered across the floor, the same stains on the carpet are there to step around, the same picture framed flipped down to hide the old photograph inside like grains of sand getting swept back up to you no matter how hard you try washing them away.

“It's another bottle tonight,” you decide in no time at all. Pull a cold one from the fridge, ignore the other bottles strewn across the room, take a seat at your desk. The lamp buzzes to life, and another sheet finds itself under your pen. 

They never meet. 

~~~

[luveline]

jade my heart I’m really feeling Peter parker tonight in this chilis. maybe just Pete listening to r go on about something she likes? Like a book or a tv show and he’s just listening but also so obsessed with her and thinks she’s adorable? I love u! 🫶🏻

ily ty for requesting <3 fem

“It’s a prequel, you know?” 

Peter feels fondness for you pretty much every second of the day, but the way you’re asking without looking at him, and the way you���re laying across his lap so unbothered, he finds himself grinning like a mad man. “I did not know that,” he says. 

You nod up and down with a severe sort of look about you, as though this is of the utmost importance. If Peter doesn’t get on the same page as you soon, he’s not gonna make it. “I can’t believe you’ve never seen the first trilogy. Like, I like you so much, but where the hell have you been?” 

“Where have I been?” he wonders. 

“Anyways, that’s not the point, sorry. They’re complicated movies. You’d like them, though. Next time I’ll bring my DVD’s and we can watch them, if you want to, you’ll really like them, or you’ll really like Natalie Portman, at least. She’s beautiful. And her character is so… complicated, I guess, she’s doomed from the beginning of the narrative and she’s the catalyst for so much but she’s also just… sorry, I’m being totally boring.” 

“Says who?” 

Doesn’t take much more than that to get you rolling again, you want to tell him that badly, “I don’t wanna spoil it anymore because I really think you’ll love them if you watch them, but you’re gonna need to watch the first trilogy to get the emotional impact, and you’ll love them, don’t worry.” 

“I’ll love them,” he agrees, attempting to lean down for a kiss. 

“Wait, is this a shut me up kiss?” you whisper. 

Peter shakes his head as he kisses you, serving for a wobbly but soft press of your lips to his. “Never. Tell me everything about it.” 

You talk until you’re hoarse, literally hoarse, and Peter has to make you a cup of water. His cheeks are hurting from smiling at you. You’ve never looked this cute, not once, not even when he took you to Coney Island and you screamed the house down on all the rides. 

“I think we better go and get those DVDs,” he says. 

“It’s dark out,” you say. 

“We’ll swing.” 

“Isn’t that against your code of ethics?” You sip your drink, pointing at him. “We’ll hear someone who needs help on the way and you’ll drop my extended editions to save them.” 

“I won’t drop anything,” he says. “Come on! Come on, if you’re this excited just talking about it I wanna see how pretty you are when we’re actually watching the movies.” 

You press your smile into a line. “You’re not just humouring me?” 

“I could listen to you talk for hours, baby, but you sound like you did the second time we got off of The Cyclone.” 

You do a spinning, meandering dance into his arms. “If you insist.” 

Your feigned reluctance is adorable. He grabs you in both hands for another misaligned kiss.

[the-californicationist]

The Window (5 of 7)

Ch 01 // Ch 02 // Ch 03 // Ch 04 // Ch 05 // Ch 06--- AO3 Link

You couldn’t see anything. You knew you were in the backseat, but you didn’t even know what kind of car you were in. They’d stolen you from your bed. As the road rushed by you, jostling you around, you had no idea where you were headed. The two men on either side of you hadn’t said a word, but when you tried to peek, they reinforced your blindfold, keeping you in the dark. 

“Alright, bonnie,” Soap’s voice was in your left ear, “Ready for your surprise?”

You turned to him, hoping he could see the glare through the cloth, 

“Are we there yet? ‘Cause blindfolding a pregnant woman in a car while she has morning sickness is like a new level of cruelty.”

“Sorry, love,” Gaz took your hand and you felt his lips on your fingers, “Almost there.”

Price was in the driver’s seat, and you felt him pull the car to a long, braking stop.

Gaz took your hand, helping you out of the car, walking you up past the hood, one foot in front of the other. 

“Can I look?”

“Alright, pretty girl. You can look,” John’s voice washed over you, and you took off your mask. 

You were facing a modern-style home. It was the only house around, surrounded by trees, illuminated by bright sunshafts glittering through the leaves of the canopy. 

“Bought it for you, love. Wha’d’ya think?” Simon’s comment barely registered. 

When John had told you things would be different, he hadn’t really been clear. He’d promised to do everything he could to take care of you and the baby, and that he would somehow prove it to you. You had no idea that promise would include a whole damn house.

“Your name’s on the deed, and it’s paid in full. But,” John shifted his weight, treading lightly, “We were hopin’ you’d let us move in with you. We just… we don’t wanna miss a moment, love.”

“What?” Your voice sounded so small, “You… you bought me a house?”

“Aye, with a wee pool and everything! Come see it, bonnie,” Soap grabbed your hand and rushed you in. 

The house was unfurnished except for the appliances, but there were boxes in every room. You opened one to find a bedframe, and one in the kitchen had pots and pans. Had they bought everything new? How did they get the money?

“John,” you found him as Soap was taking you around for the tour, “How did you afford this?”

He smiled, 

“Four single men, all with over ten years of service… let’s just say we had some savings.”

“I can’t afford to pay you back,” you admitted. 

“Don’t need you to. It’s yours. I told you, love,” he pet your cheek, kissing you chastely once, twice, until you relaxed into his touch, “We’re here to stay, but it’ll be on your terms.”

“I don’t know what to say,” you were in shock as you stood in the big, empty living room, gaping up at the high ceilings and black, wooden beams. It was a gorgeous home, and you were speechless. 

“Do you like it, love?” Simon put his arms around your waist and held you, looking down into your face for your appraisal.

You nodded,

“I do. It’s perfect. Thank you for everything. I wasn’t —”

He bent down to kiss you, interrupting you, and he was anything but gentle. Something about seeing you in his home had Simon all worked up, and you were being subjected to its effects. 

His hands lifted you onto the kitchen island with incredible ease, and you spread your legs to accommodate his huge frame as he settled himself against your hips. He wouldn’t stop kissing you, forcing his tongue into your mouth, sucking on your lips, and fondling your tender breasts through your thin tee shirt. 

“You two are gonna start a fire you can’t put out,” Gaz chastised Ghost, sidling up to you and kissing your neck. 

“Join in or fuck off, mate,” Simon’s voice was like a growl, snarling at his sergeant before returning his mouth to your body, sucking on your soft nipple through the fabric of your tee, making the cloth cling to you as he licked and nipped at your peak.

“Easy, Si. We’re gonna unload the bags, and we’ll be back. Get her all warmed up for us,” Gaz’s sinister chuckle hung in the air as he left you at his lieutenant’s mercy, of which there seemed to be very little. 

Ghost was usually so careful with you, but today, in the echoing expanse of the kitchen he’d bought for you, he was messy and needy. You could feel his cock straining against his pants as he rubbed it against you. Wearing nothing more than a pair of bike shorts and a tee shirt, you were able to feel every touch, every warm inch of his dick through your thin clothing, and his repeated thrusting told you exactly how hard he was.

He whined as he kissed you, teasing his head against your covered hole, but sensing where the warm entrance was, prodding it as if he might break through. You comforted him, placing your hand on his cheek as he kissed you. It seemed to bring him back to earth, if just for a moment. 

“You alright, Si?” You asked in a low whisper, watching over Ghost’s enormous shoulder as the other three men brought in bag after bag of supplies and belongings, preparing to move in. They kept stealing hungry glances over at you and your tall blond lover, not jealous per se but feeling ready to be included. 

Simon nodded,

“Yeah, love. ‘M fine.” 

He pulled back a bit to look down at your body. He lifted your tee shirt to stare at your belly. You weren’t showing yet, but he didn’t care. He placed an enormous, tattooed hand over your womb protectively, whispering,

“Can’t believe you’re havin’ my baby. Doesn’t seem real yet.”

“How do you know they’re yours?” You asked him gently, putting your hand over his and tracing comforting circles across his skin.

“Don’t know,” he kissed you again, “Don’t care.”

Simon pulled off your bike shorts, forcing you to lift your hips off the counter, and ripped them off of your feet in one quick swoop. Your shirt disappeared just as fast, and the cool air in the empty kitchen rushed across your body, making your flesh pebble from the shock. But, you melted as soon as you felt Simon’s thick fingers spread your pussy lips apart, reaching for your tight, wet hole. When he found your warmth, you both sighed into each other, relieved and yet ablaze. 

His other hand was still pressed to your belly as if he was keeping you and your baby hidden from the world, holding you both in his palm possessively. The contrast was mesmerizing. His fingers pounded into you, sheathing themselves down to the knuckle, wet and sticky, while his other was gentle and soft, caressing you as sweetly as he could. You felt a strong, rushing orgasm build within you, and as soon as you began to clench around him, he took his fingers away, leaving you teetering on the edge with nothing to grab onto. 

“Ungh! What… Si? Please,” you whined, looking up to him with wide glassy eyes.

His expression was serious, and he leaned in close to taunt you,

“Whose baby are you havin’?”

“I don’t know. We said we would —”

His fingers were back, pressing down cruelly into your walls, making it feel like his fat dick was prodding through your entrance,

“Whose…” His fingers sank into you, making a popping wet noise. “Fuckin’...” He pulled them out of you, painting your wetness on your lips, “Baby…” Back in. “Is…” Back out. “It?” Back in, and this time, a third finger joined them.

“Simon!” You cried out, but you were alone in the room. The others must have been outside dealing with the moving boxes. 

“That’s right,” he brought your face up to his, tangling a fist into your hair, “Tell me it’s mine.”

“It’s too much, Si…” You were shocked by how stretched you felt, and your pussy was soaked, trying to accommodate its intruder, your muscles shaking from being spread apart. 

“Whose —”

“Yours… fuck! Si, you’re gonna make me come!” You felt it break inside of you, bursting through like a firework, crackling through your belly and making you squirt on his hands… and your brand new kitchen tile. 

“Oh, bloody hell. That’s a good girl.”

Just when you thought he would give you his cock, he began to slowly press his hand into you again, fucking you with his three wide fingers still inside of you, stretching you all the way down to his knuckles. 

“Si?” You whimpered, confused, starving for the comforting feeling of his heavy rod. 

“Wha’ is it, love?” He didn’t even look up at you. He was transfixed, focused on your swollen hole. 

“Fuck me… please?” You reached out for him, grasping at his wide forearm, trying to coax him to take the next step. 

In an almost dismissive way, he caught Price before he walked back outside and nodded at him, 

“Oy, mate. Hold her for me, yeah?”

To your shock, John walked over, studied you for a second as you writhed in your predicament, and stood on the other side of the island countertop, behind your head. He chuckled, 

“What have you gotten yourself into, pretty girl?” 

The captain took both of your arms and locked them in his, sticking them up behind your head, watching your tits hang freely, bouncing up and down as Ghost pounded his hand into your sopping pussy. 

You gritted your teeth, feeling your body respond to your capture, ready and eager to come again so soon after its last onslaught. 

“I can’t… I’m…” 

“Gonna come again,” Simon grinned, “Yeah, I can feel it. Needy thing, innit she?”

“She is,” John agreed, pinning your arms just a little tighter, ready for you to try and wriggle away. 

You were breathing heavy, and your muscles kept tightening up on you, freezing you in place as you tried to squirm free. If only you could pull your arms around you, maybe you could hold off the brutal fire building in your chest, burning down your ribs and spinning like a spiral in that impossibly tight coil that he was working with his fingers. 

It was when he bent to suck on your clit that you lost it. You felt the knot that was tangled up inside of you slip, the long rope sliding against its own bite, loose and unwieldy, letting you freefall through the sparkling, black abyss of your impossibly deep pleasure. 

“That’s what I wanna see, love,” your blond beast growled up at you, showing you his white fangs, “Give me that come. Give it to me! Yes! Fuck!”

You heard the wet noises that were coming from you, not understanding where they were coming from or how, but also not caring one bit. All you cared about was riding the relentless wave of pleasure. The more he fucked you on his hand, the more you rolled through the tumbling ebb and flow of your bliss. 

Hot tears cut across your temples, and it was John’s soft mouth that kissed them away, shushing you,

“It’s okay, love. Be good for Simon, yeah? Be our good girl. You can do that, right?”

You nodded weakly, leaning your cheek into his scruffy kisses, letting him nuzzle you, comforting you as Ghost pulled you apart.

John used his warm hands to pet your breasts, plucking gently at your nipples, lingering on their silky skin, 

“Such a pretty little thing, lettin’ Si use that pussy. You look bloody beautiful like this, love.”

His praise made you feel drunk. Now, all you wanted was to be good for them. You wanted more of that lovesick approval. What more could you give them? How could you appease the gods of your pleasure?

You canted your hips, humping Simon’s hand, letting him reach deeper and deeper on each thrust, rocking your body against the hard countertop. 

Ghost made a painful groan inside his throat, obviously pleased with your performance, and he leaned forward to suck on your breasts, biting and licking more than he was kissing, but it was enough to make you keen in high-pitched whines, catching Soap and Gaz’s attention in the other room. 

You didn’t halt your shameless undulation for their benefit. You were far beyond the point of shame. You were only focused on coming again and again and again — as many times as your commander needed you to — built to serve him. Them…

Gaz’s bright smile widened as he came up beside Ghost,

“My, my, my. Makin’ quite a mess, hm, babes?”

“A right gorgeous mess,” Soap added, licking his lips, obviously eager to taste the honey Simon had harvested from you. 

Now that he had his team with him, Simon pulled you off the counter top and put your feet on the ground. He positioned you so that he could fuck you from behind, but he was too tall. So, he simply held you up, easily supporting your weight, his heavy arm underneath your hips. Price, Gaz, and Soap all stood in front of you, their belt buckles in your line of sight, and watched as Ghost fed his solid cock into your wet hole. The captain grabbed you by the hair, forcing your chin up, and with each thrust from Simon, your mouth crashed right into Price’s zipper. 

“Mm,” he sighed, “Perfect height, innit?”

With his free hand, he unbuckled the belt, pulled down his zipper, and let the button free from his pants. Then, you were face to face with his fat dick, as hard as steel and ready to be buried in your throat. 

You opened your mouth, trying to look up at your captain, but it was no use, you couldn’t see him, all you could see was the head of his cock being pressed into your lips, inch after inch of him disappearing into your mouth, making you gag. 

As Simon thrust forward, Price pulled out, and then the reverse. As you felt your pussy empty from its delightful stretch, your throat was invaded by Price’s uncut, drooling monster. You were always full, no matter what, and your brain had no idea how to prioritize your efforts. So, for the most part, you were helpless, hanging limp between the two huge men, being used by them in a cyclic, tantric rhythm, ceaselessly and towards a blinding, white-hot joy. 

Suddenly, you felt two mouths on your hanging breasts, suckling from each nipple as if you would feed them, laving at your skin relentlessly. You knew it was Gaz and Soap from the feeling of their kisses, but you couldn’t see them, so every movement was a surprise. Someone’s hand began to play in your folds, discovering the hard round body of your clit and teasing it as SImon slammed himself into you. 

You came, but it was silent. Price’s cock wouldn’t let any noise escape, but he could feel you screaming. He took a step forward, fully sheathed inside of you now, cutting off your air, making you choke roughly. Your whole body clenched down before you told it to relax, and the sound that came from Simon was a singular delight. It seemed like he was in some kind of heaven. 

“Oh, fuckin’ hell. Tha’s damn good,” Ghost hissed, “Do it again, Cap.”

Price obliged, choking you down on his cock, making your jaw stretch to its limit, burying your nose in his soft curls. You lapped at his base with your tongue, participating in the small way that you could, balancing yourself on his hips. 

“Ungh!” Price groaned, emptying his load into you. 

Simon was coming too, and you could feel the heat from both of them pooling inside of you. 

You weren’t sure whose arms you were in, but someone held you tightly, helping you stand on shaking legs, petting your face, telling you not to swallow. 

“Hm?” You tried to catch your bearings, and Soap held your face in his hands, his thumbs trying to pull your mouth open. 

“C’mon, bonnie. Open up. Show me his come, yeah? Lemme taste it.”

You were out of your mind, but you were pliant and fully drowning in your subspace, eager to obey. You opened your mouth to him, feeling him lick Price’s come out of you, sucking it off of your tongue. Then, he dropped to his knees, licking it back into your cunt, mixing it with Simon’s, eating you out and filling you up at the same time. 

Gaz was still on his knees as well, and you could feel his huge hands pull your ass cheeks apart, the tip of his strong tongue prodding at your asshole, trying to squeeze itself through the tight muscle. 

He found a way in, and you were being eaten from both sides, held upright by Soap’s strong arms. You held onto his mohawk for help, trying to steady yourself. Their mouths were so warm, and yet you shivered, the pleasure overwhelming you.��

A big thumb came and wiped more tears from your cheek, 

“Shh, pretty girl. You can take it, yeah?” 

It was John. He was comforting you, his softening cock still hanging heavy and low outside of his pants, shining from your mouth. He coached you,

“Breathe for me. Gonna come for them, aren’t you? Yeah, tha’s a good girl. Just let it happen. Shh, shh. Pretty little thing…”

“Ahhhngh!” You screamed from deep within your chest, and you knew you had squirted again, all over Soap’s face. You felt it happen. Now that Simon had primed you for it, you nearly had control, but not quite. It was like a button that was too high to press. 

“Fuck, yes, lass. You taste so fuckin’ sweet. Holy shite,” Johnny came up off the ground and held you up so that your legs were straddling him. It didn’t take much for him to stuff himself into your pussy after Simon’s work, and yet he filled you in an entirely different way. At the same time, you felt Gaz behind you, his fingers playing in your asshole, and then, his soft cockhead. 

It took Gaz much longer to get fully settled, but as Johnny fucked his dick up into you, he found a way. You felt Gaz’s wide palm wrap itself around your throat from behind, not to choke you but to hold you upright, keeping you straight even though everything in you wanted to collapse. 

“That’s it, babes. This tight little arse belongs to me, yeah? Tell us who you fuckin’ belong to.”

“You… ungh, I’m… ahhh!” You tried to speak, but it was so much easier to whimper. 

“C’mon, pretty girl,” John was back, fondling your breasts as his men fucked you in both of your holes, “You can do far better than that.”

You met his eyes, and behind the icy blue, there roared a blazing fire. Simon had come to join you on the other side of Johnny, and the same flames lay within him as well. 

“I’m yours,” you promised all four of them at once, “This baby is yours,” you heard them collectively groan at varying levels of excitement and possession, “All yours. Always.”

“Good girl,” Simon praised you before Price could, parting your lips with his fingers, the same ones he had tortured you with, and stuck them in your mouth, “Now, suck.”

You did, keeping your eyes on him as you licked your own come off of his skin, feeling Price’s beard brush against your chest, latching onto the nipple he loved to abuse, biting at it to make it stiffen. 

“Mmff-fuck,” the captain mumbled as he sucked on your skin, “I can’t wait for your milk to come in.”

“Dinnae even start. Gonnae make me come just thinkin’ about it, Cap’n,” Johnny agreed, bending his neck to suck from your other breast, imagining drinking from you. 

Simon pressed his fingers deeper down your throat, and because of Price’s earlier invasion, you took him easily, proud of yourself for not gagging, using your mouth and tongue to take Ghost’s hand as far as he wanted it to go. You could see what your performance was doing to him. His chest was rising and falling, breathing hard from the excitement. 

Gaz’s cock was now pounding into your ass with as much power as you could take, and as he increased his speed, you started to feel yourself come in a new way. The sparks were still there, but they were coming from somewhere dark and mysterious, flowing over you softly, like frothy waves of foam, ethereal and light. 

You reached back and grabbed his neck at the nape, digging your nails into his flesh, spurring him on. 

“Ungh, goddamnit,” he cried out, kissing your throat that he still held in his hand, biting you none too gently. 

“Kyle… please, I need… I need you,” you pulled your mouth away from Ghost and whispered to him, and with whatever strength he had left, he fucked his long shaft into your ass, feeling your beating pulse deep within your body. 

His mouth was right on your ear, and he whispered, 

“I’m coming, baby. I’m coming… I’m — ahngh!”

“Oh, fuck!” Soap lay his forehead on your other shoulder, and began to rut into you without any mercy, the idea of Gaz’s throbbing cock filling you up too much for him to bear. 

They held you between them, frozen in time, letting their cocks erupt inside of your warm belly, filling you with their load. As they pulled away, you heard the wet noise of their spend hitting the tile, pouring out of you in a lurid stream. You hissed from the empty feeling you were left with, and the only thing you could hold onto was the memory of the feeling. 

“You alright, love?” John asked you, petting your cheek. 

“It’s alright, I’ve got her. You lot can finish settin’ up. C’mon, love,” Ghost told them, swinging your limp body up into his arms and carrying you to the bathroom. 

Inside the large bathroom, you saw that they had packed all of your toiletry effects, and they were strewn about, tossed in bags, waiting to be organized. Simon sat you down on the edge of the tub and began to fill it, checking the temperature with his hand before helping you sit inside. 

The water was warm as it began to pool around you, and you had the pleasure of watching Ghost undress, preparing to join you. He was a tall man, but the tub was large, and you were eager to feel his body against yours again. 

In the bright light of the bathroom, his scars were on full display. They didn’t bother you, but they made you feel very protective. As if you had a time machine and could go back and slaughter the bastards who had made them. He caught you staring and teased you for it,

“You lookin’ for round two already, missus?”

You blushed, looking away shyly. 

“Nuh uh,” he chided, sinking into the tub behind you, “Where’s my nasty little slag who squirted for me in my kitchen, hm?”

“Si…” You played coy, snuggling back against him in the water, feeling his flesh slip against yours, just as warm. His furry belly jerked from his silent laughter against your back, and he used his huge hands to rub soap down your arms as he began to clean you. 

“Pretend all you want, love. I know the truth. You love being our filthy girl, innit that right?”

“You got me,” you sighed, letting him clean your body, feeling his hands rub you up and down, lingering on your breasts a little too long. He pulled at your nipples, soft at first and then cruelly, until you made a noise of protest. 

He teased you again, rubbing them in slow, agonizing circles, 

“You gonna let me have a taste, hm?”

“Huh?” You looked up at him over your shoulder, not understanding what he wanted at first. 

“When your milk comes in,” he used both hands to squeeze your tits, making them rise out of the water, pressing them up until they looked huge on your chest, “Bet they’re gonna be so full, so big. I read that book Johnny bought. Says your nipples might get darker. I’m ready to see that.”

“Are you sure? You might not like the way I look,” you said, testing his desire. 

“Bollocks. Dark nipples, huge tits, drippin’ milk, big swollen belly with my fuckin’ baby in it? You’re proper mad if you think that’s not what I want. Fuck, it’s all any of us can think about.”

“What else do you think about?” You asked dreamily, closing your eyes and letting him massage the soap into your breasts, squeezing them in a steady, slow pattern, comforting himself with their heavy softness.

“Think about hearin’ their laugh. About what color eyes they’ll have. Think about comin’ home to you and the lads. Christmas morning. All the wrapping paper torn up all over the floor. Think about crawlin’ into bed with you every damn night. Thinkin’ about holding them for the first time. About how much I love you.”

You opened your eyes then, looking up at him to see the truth, and when you saw how earnest he was, no longer hiding behind his snarky jokes, something in you opened. A door. Some new beginning. 

“I love you, too, Si.”

Idk how many more of these chapters I've got in me. Just submitting to the process, I guess. Do y'all still even want to read these? Who knows.

While you wait for the next installment, please consider checking out my other work. Thank you!

[themeaningthemeaningthe]

can’t sleep for other reasons and my brain can’t stop thinking about a post i saw and initially ignored but keep having thoughts about. i didn’t comment on it or anything and now it’s lost to the ether and i don’t wanna go looking for it but these thoughts gotta go somewhere.

this will be long and rambling and probably a little incoherent cuz it’s 3am.

the post was someone saying that they finally picked up gideon the ninth after years of seeing locked tomb posts and griddlehark, then dropped it after like 2 chapters bcuz they think the dynamic between gideon and harrow is abusive (which is fair when u first start it) and they can’t believe people are into it as enemies to lovers. on the one hand, people are totally cool to just not like something for whatever reason, i myself just have thoughts about the Nuance that i didn’t express on the post that i now must here.

lots of important spoilers for GtN!! (and maybe accidentally ones to HtN)

ok here’s the rant.

that’s the point!!!!! that’s the point.

they are terrible to each other and they have always been. the growth and the development of their character dynamics together explores how this thing between them that has always been sharp and seething and spiky must buckle under the weight of outside pressure beyond anything they could have imagined.

in a very important pool scene (one that is ubiquitous in fanart and i have to believe this poster saw at least a few times) we get an explanation from harrow! and not only does this give us a more full look into the context of drearbruh outside of gideons narrow point of view, but it also makes more clear why they were like That.

i’m sorry but literally harrow is 200 dead kids that her parents killed to make her, and gideon is the one kid they couldn’t kill. and gideon realizes once told this, she is the living reminder of the war crime committed to save the house, and no one who knows can forget it.

and harrow has known the truth of her origin since she was old enough to comprehend anything!! so yeah, a traumatized child who knows she’s the entirety of a generation of her house is gonna lash out at literally the only other child on the planet who she happens to also have power over.

and i feel like the book makes this pretty clear!! this was bad!! but also, these are two traumatized kids growing up in a dying, creepy, planet that is lowkey hell.

the other key thing about the pool scene, is that it is a Confession. these books are sooo steeped in catholicism. harrow isn’t just explaining the true history of her life, she is Confessing all of the sins that make her up and all of the sins she has committed. bearing the entirety of the wretchedness of her soul for gideon judge. expecting her only friend whom she has made miserable for years to kill her.

and i know we joke about gideon being lesbian jesus, but there’s a reason for that (besides the obvious). bcuz after hearing her Confession, gideon baptized harrow in that pool.

one flesh one end, bitch.

and also like yeah griddlehark is an enemies to lovers in some ways, but i feel like also not in the typical way you would think about that trope?? bcuz correct me if im wrong but they never really become lovers (and i personally am not sure they ever will). yes they love each other and make the grandest gestures of love imaginable. but that love is inevitably fucked up in some ways and it’s impossible for it to not be.

god that was way too long. anyway. some Nuance is necessary.

[tiki-was-here]

Billy Butcher x GN Reader Part One

Word count: 1.1k

Uuuh reader has luck powers like domino from Deadpool. They’re a retired supe who became disgusted by the culture and their inability to save the people they really cared about. The boys lowkey kidnapped you because they wanted to use your powers for their own benefit and now you’re kinda just a part of the group. 

Takes place after a mission gone wrong where Hughie gets badly hurt and butcher starts tweaking like he always does. This was lowkey hard to write and i had to split it because butcher speaks like hes in a cartoon + school is kicking my ass

[Part Two]

The warehouse was dark, the air thick with the smell of damp concrete and blood. MM had already gone to lie down whilst Frenchie and Kimiko went to scrounge medical supplies. You were still catching your breath, leaning against the wall, watching Starlight pace like she was looking for a way to explain herself. The mission had gone wrong- horribly wrong.

Billy wasn’t letting it go.

“You just couldn’t fucking help yourself, could you?” he growled, rushing at her like a wild animal. His hands were clenched into fists, jaw tight. “We had one job. One. Fucking. Job. Get the bastard with the intel. But no, you had to go and play bloody hero.”

“Billy,” Starlight said, her voice trembling. “That girl—she was going to die.”

“And what’s that to you, eh?!” he snapped. “We needed the prick alive to tell us where Vought’s next lab is, and instead of doing your job, you decided to swoop in and save the day. You love it, don’t you? Being the fucking golden girl.”

“You think I wanted Hughie to get hurt? You think I wanted him to get away? We all make mistakes Butcher… blaming everything on me just isn’t fair. ” she shot back, her voice breaking.

“Fair?” he barked, laughing bitterly. “Life ain’t fair, sweetheart. You think I give a fuck about fair? People are gonna die because you couldn’t keep your shiny little nose out of it!”

“Enough. We’re all still alive and that’s all that matters.” you said, stepping between them. “You’ve made your point, Billy.”

His gaze shifted to you, dark and piercing. “Oh, don’t you fucking start. You wanna defend her, do you? Might I remind you that the only reason your sorry ass is even here is to make things easier on us? So far you’ve been fucking useless.”

You clenched your jaw, your heart pounding. “This isn’t about me.” (u lowkey kinda did insert yourself into the conversation tho dude) 

“The hell it isn’t!” he snapped. “You’re all the same. You think the rules don’t apply to you. Think your powers give you the right to do whatever you want. To make every decision for everyone else. And whenever you fuck it up -which you always do- someone else pays the price because god forbid you ever face some consequences. Luck my ass…You know what you really are? A walking disaster.”

“Drop it, Billy,” you said, your voice dangerously low.

“Oh, what’re you gonna do? Get mad? Use your little powers to make everything go your way, like you always do?” He stepped closer, towering over you now. “Here’s the truth, love: you’re no better than her. You’re no better than any of ‘em. Supes are all bloody the same. Arrogant, reckless, and absolutely fucking useless when it really matters.”

His words cut deep, sharper than you thought they could. Your hands trembled at your sides, and you could feel the heat rising in your chest.

“You don’t know a damn thing about me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, don’t I?” he said, sneering. “I know enough. I know you’ve got no bloody clue what it’s like to live without some fucking crutch to lean on. You think you’re clever, think you’re helping. But you’re just another liability. Just another Supe.”

That was it. The line snapped.

“Fuck you, Billy!” you shouted, shoving him back. “I’m not one of them, and you know it. You’re just too much of an asshole to admit it!”

For a moment, he looked genuinely stunned. Then his expression hardened again. “Oh, what’s the matter? Did I hurt your feelings? Poor thing.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. With a growl of frustration, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the warehouse, the door slamming behind you. As much as you wanted to punch the shit out of him (and as much as you knew he deserved it), both your injuries were too severe to risk it. Your chest heaved with anger, tears stinging your eyes as you stalked down the dark alleyway.

He’d gone too far this time. You’d shared those things- your feelings, your failures- in confidence, making yourself vulnerable for the first time in years. 

Just for him to use it against you when things didn’t go his way. 

You’d make him apologize later, but for now you needed to clear your head

-----------------

Hours later, you found yourself wandering the streets, letting your luck guide you. You didn’t know why you were doing this—why you couldn’t just let it go. Maybe it was because you couldn’t stand the idea of letting him think he’d won.

Your feet led you to a cheap motel on the edge of town. Room 312. It just felt right

You knocked on the door, your heart pounding.

The door opened, and there he was, standing in the dim light of the hallway. His hair was a mess, his shirt rumpled, expression unreadable.

“You’ve got some nerve,” he said, his voice low.

“So do you,” you shot back, roughly pushing past him into the room.

He closed the door and turned to face you, his arms crossed over his chest. “What the fuck do you want?”

“I want you to shut the fuck up and listen for once,” you said, your voice shaking with barely contained fury. “You don’t get to talk to me like that. Not after everything I’ve done for you.”

“Oh, here we go,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “Go on, then. Give me the sob story.”

“I’m serious, Billy. You think you’re the only one who’s been through shit? Newsflash: you’re not special. And just because you’re hurt doesn’t mean you get to hurt everyone else.”

His jaw tightened, but he stayed silent. 

“You want to call me a liability?” you continued, voice rising. “Fine. But you and I both know you wouldn’t have gotten half this far without me. So maybe, just maybe, you should start showing a little fucking gratitude.”

Billy’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought he might start shouting again. But instead, he just stood there, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

“You done?” he asked finally, his voice quieter now but no less tense.

“No,” you said, stepping right up to him, your nose inches from his. “You don’t get to keep doing this. You don’t get to push me away just because you’re scared. You want to keep this thing between us? Then you’d better apologize . Because I’m not sticking around to be your punching bag.”

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. The air between you crackled with tension, the silence heavy and suffocating.

Then, finally, he spoke

“Make me.”

[4unnyr0se]

Hi love your writing!! I havent touched HQ in 3 years but Im starting to love old characters I use to fall in love with like Asahi, Oikawa, Bokuto etc,,, so as my first req, could you pls write fem! Reader x Bokuto fluff in HS?

Like Bokuto trying to court the reader. How would that go? And how did he finally ask us out?

Feel free to ignore this if you dont like the idea! Ty for ur time 🤍❤️🤍

❥ young love at fukurodani | kotaro bokuto

warnings: none that i can think of. this is pure fluff

MDNI | No 18+ content, I just don't want minors interacting with my blog

word count -> 1.6k

okay so aaaa this didn't rlly follow the ask bc all he does is ask reader to tutor him and then cute stuff happens but i can make a hc of it probably tonight or tomorrow?? also i wrote this when i was having tummy issues so im very sorry if its horrible. i love u!

got a request? my asks are open!

Bokuto wasn’t one to get embarrassed that easily. Sure, he did embarrassing things but didn’t know they were embarrassing. They were part of his boyish charm, which people loved about him…right? Of course, they did. He was Kotaro Bokuto. He was Fukurodani’s ace, and the people loved him for it. So why, if he was so confident, did he get awkward and embarrassed around you, his pretty classmate?

Saying you were gorgeous was an understatement. He couldn’t find the right words to describe you to his friends, mainly Akaashi. “She’s just like, y’know? And I’m like, oh damn! She’s cute as fuck!” Boktuo would make various gestures with his hands as he and Akaashi sat on the steps leading to the gym, sipping cola from the vending machine. “What do I do, Akaashi? She’s so pretty, and I’m pretty too! The only problem is that everyone else in our year thinks so, too…do I even have a shot?”

Akaashi would offer him a pitiful smile, rubbing his back in assurance. “Well, isn’t she one of the smartest in our year?”

“Yeah, smart and pretty. She’s so fucking perfect, I wish you could see her.” he pouted.

“Well, the answer is simple,” Akaashi said, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. Ask her for help with homework; god knows you need it.”

“Hey! I got a 41 on my chemistry test!” Bokuto yelled at Akaashi as the setter entered the gym. But he did have a point, like always. Bokuto decided then and there that he would ask you to tutor him tomorrow, no matter how anxious he was. Anxiety was for suckers anyway.

“Hey, wait up!” Bokuto ran after you as you exited your classroom, papers flying out of his messy bookbag that was riddled with stains from only God knows what. “I gotta ask you a question!”

You stopped walking and turned your heel, raising an eyebrow as the Fukurodani captain barreled towards you. “Hey, what’s up, Bokuto? How’s volleyball going? Are we headed to nationals?” you asked, placing a hand on your hip. God, even the way you held yourself was perfect. Were you an actual goddess, or was Bokuto just lovestruck?

Bokuto finally caught up to you, leaning against the hallway walls in an attempt to appear suave and put-together. His messy uniform didn’t help his cause, but he forgot to look neat today. And every day after that. “Uh, I was wondering if you understood what we were assigned in English yesterday? I don’t understand any of it to save my skin, hah,” He rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at his shoes. “Did you get what our teacher was saying?”

“Yeah, it was really simple. Just basic grammar and syntax structures. Was it complicated for you?” you tilted your head to the side.

“I don’t really get it. Wanna tutor me at my house today? I can get you snacks!” he offered you a crooked smile, leaning forward so his golden eyes peered into yours. “C’mon, please? The coach will kick my ass if I don’t get my grades up, and I have a game next week! Pretty please?” he folded his hands in prayer, his bottom lip in a childish pout.

You smiled and nodded, grabbing him off the wall. Bokuto blushed at the sudden contact, noticing how neat you kept your fingernails compared to his own. Yours were neatly polished to perfection while he bit his nails almost constantly, and being a wing spiker didn’t come with having good-looking nails. 

“Where’s your house? Is it walking distance?” you let go of his hand, much to Bokuto’s dismay. 

“Yeah, it’s about five minutes from here. Wanna stop at a convenience store on the way? I’m really hungry.” he rubbed his stomach as you two walked out the nearest exit, your messenger bag dangling over your shoulder. 

“Only if you’re paying,” you joked, rubbing his shoulder. Bokuto could have sworn his heart stopped right then and there. Were you actually flirting with him, or were you just really touchy? Either way, it was a win in his book. 

“Sure, I don’t mind. Anything for a pretty girl like yo-” Bokuto stopped his sentence, smacking his hand over his mouth. “I-I mean, why wouldn’t I mind? I’m a captain, after all. It’s my job to provide for my teammates!”

“But I’m not on any sports teams. I’m not your teammate.” you deadpanned, 

“You know what I mean!” Bokuto whined, wiping his forehead of the sweat that was slowly starting to gather. “Damn, it’s a hot one today. Why won’t they let the guys wear shorts? Do they want us to die of heat stroke or something?”

“I honestly have no idea,” you sighed, walking under the shade of the convenience store roof. “Wait a minute,” you instructed, placing your messenger bag on the hot pavement. You shrugged off your school blazer and wrapped it around your waist tightly in an attempt to cool you off. You also rolled up the sleeves of your white blouse, loosening your collar. “Sorry, I’m just really warm. At least we get to wear skirts, right?” you offered him a lopsided smile.

Bokuto’s heart pounded in his chest. “Uh, yeah, you girls are so lucky. Wearing skirts must feel awesome.”

“It’s awesome until you catch someone trying to look it up,” you mumbled in annoyance, hoisting your bag over your shoulders. 

“What the actual fuck? Who was it? I’ll murder them! I'll text Konoha too; he’ll definitely want in on it,” Bokuto clenched his fists together, walking into the store with you. “I’m sorry that happened to you, honestly.

You shrugged your shoulder and rummaged through the ice cream pin, choosing a passionfruit-flavored ice bar. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. I barely know you, anyways.”

“That doesn’t mean that I can’t protect you from jerks like that guy,” Bokuto angrily shoved his hands in his pockets, tapping his foot on the tile. He fished about 400 yen out of his pocket and handed it to the cashier, ushering you out of the shop as quickly as possible. 

“What was that for?” you asked, unwrapping the popsicle. 

“I didn’t like how he looked at you, that’s all.” Bokuto huffed. He made grabby motions for your bookbag, which you handed to him with a confused look on your features. “Let me carry that, please. You’re too pretty to carry heavy stuff around like that all day.”

You paused your walk and stared at Bokuto, blushing softly. “You think I’m pretty?” 

Bokuto slowly nodded and gave you a crooked smile, blushing in turn. “Yeah, I really do. I was afraid to tell you before, but now I’m all fired up. I wanna protect you from creeps, y’know?”

You popped the ice treat out of your mouth and stepped forward, smiling softly. “We barely know each other, and you want to keep me safe? We haven’t even hung out once.”

“We’re heading to my house right now, aren’t we?” Bokuto shrugged, his blush not fading. 

You chuckled and took another step forward, the tips of your noses brushing against each other. “Yeah, I guess we are,” you whispered, your lips dangerously close to his own. “You know, I always thought you were kind of cute. In the athletic kind of way, I suppose.”

Bokuto dropped the bags he held onto the hot concrete beneath you, praying they wouldn’t roll down the hill you were standing on. You two were in a remote location, and the tension was thick. “You think I’m cute?” he tilted his head to the side, his eyelids dropping halfway. 

“Mhm,” you purred, your popsicle dripping from the intense heat. “Super cute.”

“Fuck,” Bokuto’s hands hovered above your waist, unsure of what you wanted him to do. “Uh, is it okay if I kiss you? Please, cutie?” he quietly pleaded, your lips basically touching at this point. 

You smiled and nodded, holding your melting popsicle behind your back. “Mhm, it’s okay.”

Bokuto smiled as his lips interlocked with yours for a minute, savoring the sweet passionfruit flavor that coated them. His hands squeezed your waist childishly, never wanting this moment between the two of you to end. This kiss was exactly how he dreamed it would be, soft and perfect. Just like you.

You pulled away after a bit and giggled, your popsicle having since fallen onto the heated pavement. Your sticky hands cupped his face, the pads of your thumbs running over his defined cheekbones. “You’re a good kisser,” you pecked his forehead bravely. “Like, a really good kisser.”

“Same to you, cutie,” his hands left your waist, choosing to instead secure your wrists. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that. So. Fucking. Long.”

 A chuckle escaped your lips as your hands fell to your waist again, intertwining your fingers with Bokuto’s. You had never notified it before, but he was much bigger than you. It made you feel safe and secure. Protected. “We should probably get to your house to study, shouldn’t we?” 

“Aw, I was having so much fun kissing you on the sidewalk!” Bokuto pretended to whine, kicking a loose pebble that was in his way. He easily picked up the bags with his spare hand and tossed them over his broad shoulder. 

“Tell you what,” you squeezed his hand. “For every question you get right, I’ll give you a kiss. Does that sound like a fair deal?”

“Hell yeah, it does!” Bokuto kissed you on the cheek in excitement. He practically skipped to his house with you in tow, excited for what the rest of the day would have in store.

[sanjisleggy]

in the eye of the beholder (portgas d. ace x reader)

req: How about Ace with a zoan mythical devil fruit reader that never really changes into their devil fruit form or variables of it because she felt like it would scare them or something, but when Ace is near death, the reader comes in full force and saves him [...]

a/n: omg i love that trope too ;;0;; i love any trope that involves one person losing control in order to protect someone else dat shit Hits also oops i think i got a bit overenthusiastic with the descriptions of reader’s body changing so i hope it’s not too much for anyone :0 !

ALSO MORE ACE REQUESTS PLS AND THANK U MUAH

contents: somewhat gory descriptions of bodily harm(? but nothing too gross i don’t think), mild body horror, some angst, fluff, hurt/comfort!!

wc. 1.8k

wanna be on my taglist?

despite being your boyfriend for nearly two years now, Ace still doesn’t know what your full Zoan form looks like. he knows you have the Dragon variant of Devil Fruit but that’s pretty much the full extent of his knowledge, aside from the rare occasion you use your hybrid form to fly but even during those moments you move so fast his eyes can barely keep up

Ace would be lying if he said he wasn’t a tiny bit upset he’s never seen your full form–back when he was a fresh member of the crew he’d even pestered you quite a bit in hopes you’ll cave in and show him–but he understands why you’re hesitant to use it

“you do know it hurts her, right?” Thatch said out of the blue one day when Ace had nothing better to do and decided to watch him cook to kill time. 

“what does?” the second division commander replied through a mouthful of bread.

“transforming into her Zoan form,” the head chef continued. “i’ve seen it myself only twice but both times it was kind of hard to watch.” 

the more Ace listened to Thatch’s descriptions of the sounds of your bones cracking and flesh tearing as your human screams gradually turned into monsterish roars that shook the very earth, the more guilty he felt for all the times he’d asked you to show him. he’d seen Marco transform so many times, he ignorantly assumed the process was just as easy and painless for you. 

“the last time she did it,” Thatch added, “she scared some civilians by accident and they got hurt trying to run away. i think that fucked her up a bit for quite a while.”

it’s safe to say, he stopped asking you to transform after that. though the suddenness of it all surprised you, it was nice being able to hang out with him without worrying about being asked to show your Zoan form. a few months afterwards, you even end up dating him–something your past self never would have considered

Ace still is very interested in what your full form looks like but he can see himself spending the rest of his life with you so he’s sure he’ll see it one day–and soon he learns he’s right, he just never thought it would be under such dire circumstances

for the first time in a long time, Ace finds himself panicking on the battlefield. his heart pounds painfully against his ribcage and no matter how much air he tries to inhale, his lungs are constantly begging for more air. Ace’s vision blurs but he refuses to lose consciousness, blinking rapidly to clear his sight as he stares down at his blood soaked hands.

he’s not wounded, though. you are.

lying on the dirt in front of him as the two of you take cover behind an abandoned cottage, you gasp for air as fresh blood slowly pools beneath you; the red, hot substance pouring out from the bullet wounds in your torso and legs.

what was supposed to be a simple recon mission turned out to be an ambush by the marines. 

“stay awake, you hear me?” Ace shouts as he tilts your head to look at him, staining your cheek with your own blood from his hands. “give me one minute and i’ll be back. i just need a minute and we’ll be safe, okay?” his words are confident and firm, in stark contrast to his teary eyes and trembling hands; but you trust him with your life so you simply nod.

from where you lay, you can see most of the battlefield. you watch as he burns down the endless waves of marines almost effortlessly, like he always does, and you nearly break your promise as you’re nearly lulled to sleep by the familiar sense of security he brings you. in fact, you’re on the brink of dozing off when you’re startled awake by the sound of Ace screaming.

your eyes snap open as you frantically scan the area, bile rising up your throat as you struggle to find Ace. when you do finally see him, it takes all of your willpower not to puke out of fear.

at the feet of what looks like a Vice Admiral, he lies near-motionless, the only sign of life being the faint rise and fall of his chest and the hacking cough that tears its way out of his blood-filled mouth. the Marine orders his remaining soldiers to fall back and to “leave them to me.” with a sadistic smile painted on his face. he speaks to Ace briefly though you’re unable to catch what he’s saying and then, with a haki-imbued kick, he sends your lover flying across the battlefield in your direction.

wheezing and coughing as tears drip down his grimacing face, Ace reaches out to you with a trembling, blood-covered hand. his fingers brush against your own tear-stained face and with all the remaining strength left within him, he smiles at you.

“i… i’ll protect you… no matter what.” he mutters as you watch the Vice Admiral close the distance, taking step after step towards the back of your lover.

it’s in the moments that follow does Ace learn that Thatch’s description of your Zoan transformation did little justice to the real thing.

he watches helplessly as you begin to scream while you lift your upper body off the ground and at first he thinks it’s from the pain from your wounds but once your skin starts to turn into scales, he realises it’s so much worse. as your body grows in size, your limbs crack and shift and massive wings sprout out of your spine. your head’s tossed back as you shriek to the heavens while your eyes turn a golden yellow and your pupil transforms into a slit.

the ground trembles as your voice transforms into a deep roar that shakes even the faraway trees of the surrounding forest. too wounded to turn himself around, Ace can only guess the looks of terror on the marines’ faces from the sound of their panicked shouting and uncoordinated gunfire. he watches in awe as the bullets that reach your body fall uselessly to the ground.

Ace feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as his instincts scream at him to get away from the looming threat still approaching him from the back. under normal circumstances, he’s sure he’ll be able to get away from the Vice Admiral through sheer willpower alone, escaping death is nothing new to the young man–right now, though, he knows he’s safe when you lower one of your massive wings to shield him from the rest of the world.

he listens as the cries for mercy gradually die down into a peaceful silence composed of the evening wind, insects chirping and the crackling of small fires that are soon to fizzle out. although Ace can tell he’s not fatally wounded, his body hurts to the point where it feels hard to move–arrogance always was the achilles heel of logia users. 

the setting sun shines on him once more as your wing retracts while you slowly transform back to normal. he calls out your name but you don’t respond and for a moment, he feels the same sense of panic from before rising up in his chest. his poor heart only settles once he has your unconscious body cradled in his tired arms. you’re still badly wounded but your chest rises and falls steadily as you rest in his embrace.

Marco finds the second division commander and the Whitebeard Dragon asleep in each other's arms surrounded by nearly hundreds of dead marines, all burnt to a crisp. though most would naturally assume Firefist Ace was the main culprit, Marco suspects–just by looking at the faint scaly pattern still lingering on your skin–that you might have done all the work this time

Ace wakes up first, not in an infirmary bed like he thought he would but still on the battlefield, face-to-face with his close friend who’s leaning over to pull you out of Ace’s arms. it takes both men a second to realise the true extent of his protectiveness over you; and it takes another second before Marco starts making fun of the younger man for being so whipped

it takes a long time for you to wake up even after Marco uses his Devil Fruit abilities to help heal most of your wounds. “it takes a bigger toll on her than normal Zoan Devil Fruit transformations would,” the doctor had explained to a distraught Ace, “her body goes through a lot to become something so massive, y’know?”

being patient was never Ace’s strong suit but he has zero complaints while waiting for you to wake up. for weeks he stays by your bedside, talking to you about his day, playing with your hands, and taking naps whilst curled up by your feet. the other crew members who come in to check on you daily constantly poke fun at him and yet it’s these same people who leave snacks, drinks and comics for him to use while waiting by your side.

almost a full month passes by before you wake up to the feeling of something warm and heavy resting on your chest; and moments later, Ace is roused from his nap when he feels your fingers brushing through his hair.

“hey,” he whispers, head still resting in the valley of your breasts, tilted up just enough for his eyes to meet yours. his legs are tangled with yours as the infirmary bed blanket lays uselessly on the floor.

“hey,” you reply, voice hoarse from the dryness of your throat.

“you’re really cool,” Ace says, eyelids forming into crescents as he smiles–the simple expression almost infectious in the way you feel the corners of your own lips tugging upwards in spite of being reminded about the sheer agony of your Zoan transformation.

“it must’ve been shocking, huh?” you ask, “watching me transform? i’ve heard some people say it’s gross and scary–”

“no!” he cuts you off, eyebrows furrowing, “it was amazing.” Ace runs his warm fingers up and down your bare arms before trailing downward to meet your hands, all the while staying laid on top of you with his eyes locked onto your own. “you were amazing. i’d never felt safer in my life.”

you can’t help but sniffle as you feel your eyes begin to burn with tears. “it wasn’t disgusting? i… wasn’t disgusting?” shaking his head, Ace inches forward until the tip of his nose brushes against yours.

“you were beautiful,” he murmurs, “you are so beautiful.” 

gen taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots @appalost @hyper-fic-ation @dressycobra7 @38lyra38 @chaseyui @paraparakiss @krooschl @teewon @olliesoxenfree @misstraffy @riftmage27 @aletch

[shuastar]

Between Softened Silks and Gilded Thrones (KMG) - pt.1

pairing: mingyu x reader warnings: KIM MINGYU HIMSELF IS A WARNING; none for this chapter except for sexual jokes (only one!), death threats (um two?), childhood memories </3 a/n: FINNALY OMG when i tell you im so excited for this, i'm SO excited for this. if you think wonwoo's was hot...mingyu .... he's just so hot i can't. i'm like creaming (hahaha lol /jk!!) just kidding!!! anyways, have fun reading, and always, lmk if u wanna be on the taglist for this whoresssss (very kindly)!

y/n

“Students, please rise for the walking of our flags.” 

The dining hall, previously messily noisy with chatter and laughter, diluted to a quiet hush, a thick blanket that fell over the students, dressed sharply in their uniform. The back-most doors – double and oak – slammed open on its golden hinges, revealing five boys, the first and last holding the school’s standards and the middle three bearing the flags of Obella, Xiawei, and Estoran, arms straining under the weight of the heavy flags. 

From some corner of the dining hall, the music restarted in a mellow sort of canon that echoed through the ears of everyone sitting on the hard wooden chairs, pushed close to both the tables and each other. 

The Dean of Schools smiled, proudly watching as the three flag-bearers turned to their respective flag slots, letting the pole drop down into its holding. The BANG!s rang out in the quiet hall, effectively stopping the music. 

The five boys turned towards the rest of the students, the five now raised higher on the steps to the speaking platform. 

The Dean opened his arms. “Greetings! And welcome to another semester in the National Academy!” his voice boomed through. 

There was a slight beat of silence before students – after glancing around at others – broke out into hesitant applause that slowly built itself into a roaring ovation, including whoops and cheers. 

The Dean nodded approvingly. “Allow me the pleasure of introducing to you, your five Academy Standards of this semester,” he continued, “Please save applause till the end.” 

He was handed a tightly-bound scroll from another student, standing just off at the edge of the speaking platform. He cleared his throat before starting. 

“With the Academy’s golden standards, Jeong Jaehyun of Obella and Lee Seokmin of Obella!” The Dean let the scatterings of whoops and yells from the Obellan boys table die down before continuing. “With the National colors, Kim Mingyu for Obella,” here, the Dean was required to pause his announcement of the boys because the most ear-splitting, gut-wrenching screams and applause erupted from almost every corner of the dining hall, threatening to split the Dean’s smile wider, “Xu Minghao for Xiawei, and Kunpimook BamBam for Estoran!”

This time, there was no pause before the volcanic standing ovation the five boys received, all five of them almost keening at the attention (some more than others). 

You had the utter displeasure of selecting a seat too close to the manic Obellan girls who seemed to just about scream their lungs out when Mingyu turned to give them a fleeting glance. You grimaced as the screams felt ear-splitting. 

“He’s been a standard for the past two semesters. You would think they would get tired of screaming,” you sigh, slumping in your seat, dipping your spoon in and out of your congee that lay slowly turning colder by the minute. 

“Well, he is a prince,” Yuqi states, looking possibly even more bored than you as she slowly brought a leaf of bok choy up to her lips to nibble on discreetly as the Dean tried to hush the (manic) student body.  

“Still doesn’t make sense why they treat him like some world famous star,” you huffed. “He’s not even that cute.” 

Yuqi laughed at that, brushing her hair out of her face to look at you properly. Dimly, you heard the Dean announce for everyone to start eating. 

“You really don’t think he’s that cute?” Yuqi asked. 

“Of course not. Why? You think he’s cute? What strange taste in men you have, Qiqi.” 

Yuqi rolled her eyes, moving back to her plate of food, only to stifle a loud laugh when Mingyu pulled out a chair right behind you, sitting down in between his group of rowdy friends, slinging an arm around his new girl blessed enough to be able to run her hands down his chest for this week. 

You couldn’t help but let out a fake gag, face twisting into an expression your mother would kill you for. 

“Absolutely disgusting. And he still calls himself a prince,” you muttered, shaking your head, opting instead to turn back to a less grotesque image: your cold mushroom congee, char siu, and steamed bok choy. 

From next to you, you heard Yuqi laugh, choking slightly on her water. 

“Stop laughing! You know I’m right. He never takes anything seriously and just goes off flirting with half of the Academy–” 

You never got the opportunity to finish your sentence because at that moment, someone tapped your shoulder from the back, making you turn away from your untouched plate of food. 

“Wha-”

“-Is your default being miserable and hard to deal with?” 

You blinked, staring dead straight at Kim Mingyu who ever-so-slightly loomed over you even when sitting. When you realized what he had said, your lips curled up into the faintest mocking smile. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, did what I said hurt your little royal pride?” You taunt, huffing before turning back to your table. 

Mingyu grabbed your shoulder, forcefully turning you back to face him. You shoved his hand off of your blazer, eyes narrowing as he stared at you, now with the company of his friends. 

“What is your problem,” you snapped. 

“Y/n–” Yuqi started, only to be interrupted by Mingyu’s huff of taunting laughter. 

“What is my problem? What the hell is your problem? It’s the first day of the semester and–”

“-And you’re already out here pretending to be better than us–”

“-I can’t ever recall what I did for you to–”

“-What you did? How about what your country did? Can you recall that, your highness?” 

There was a hush that fell over your vicinity as you stood up, chair streaking across the floor. Mingyu looked like he wanted to stay something, except at Yuqi’s sharp look, you saw him slowly close his mouth and turn back to his table. As you walked out of the dining hall, back to its lively atmosphere, you glanced back, unexpectedly meeting Mingyu’s eyes as Seokmin, from his seat next to the flag bearer, whispered something in his ear that made him frown, muttering something back. 

“He’s just immature,” Yuqi mumbled as she turned to make you face forward, pushing you out of the dining hall and into the cold hallway.

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

The library was usually not this loud at five in the afternoon. 

Which is why you prided yourself when you arduously climbed the winding staircase in the law corner of the Greane Library to haul you and your miserably weighted bag up to the third floor study corners overlooking the Field. The third floor was notoriously known for being completely empty, save for the time when students on the War and Diplomatics track would come up to skim through the Diplomatic textbooks shoved to a corner of the bookshelves separating the study corners. 

You passed three study corners, all empty, to reach yours (well, not technically), the sunlight streaming through the stained glass windows, illuminating every ridge of the antique oak desk. Except-

“-Jihoon?” Your surprised voice echoed through the empty third floor, bouncing off of the old, dusty, cloth-backed books that were falling apart at the spines. Your bag thudded heavily on one of the chairs. 

A mop of black hair looked up, strands sticking up in the air. Dark circles crowned under tired eyes, drooping already as the warmth of the spring afternoon sun shone in, refracting colors. A hand rose in a bleak and heavy greeting before his forehead met the opened pages of his textbook with a loud THUMP, followed by a muffled groan. 

“I hate this place,” Jihoon complained, head rising. You had to force yourself to not laugh when he rose with a big red mark on the middle of his forehead. 

You pulled out a chair, soft against the carpeted floors, sitting down in front of him. “Finals? I thought Strategy and Politics only had an open discussion?” You opened your bag, taking out an ink well, fountain pen, textbook, and notebook. Your lamp clicked on automatically when you waved your hand in front of it. 

Jihoon nodded, closing his textbook with a massive sigh, sliding down his chair. “A three hour open discussion and a war strategy simulation on the Great War.”

“What Great War? Isn't there like five?”

“Exactly.”

Your hand stilled as you dipped your pen inside the ink pot. “So you don’t know what you’re going to get?” 

“It seems so.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh at how Jihoon’s face fell at every word he uttered, frown lines wrinkling his forehead and the space between his eyebrows. Although he was your year, you couldn’t help but feel bad for him as he picked up his carved-down pencil again, scribbling tired words onto his fat notebook. 

“You’re the smartest person I know. You’ll do amazing. I know it,” you consoled, capping your pen to instead dig through your bag. Your eyes brightened when your fingers brushed a cardboard box, decorated with a ribbon. With a flourish, you pulled the box out onto the table. Hesitant hands slowly pushed the box towards Jihoon’s drooping head. 

He looked up, a questioning sort of sound escaping his lips. 

You smiled, your hair tumbling over your shoulders. “A present.”

“For?”

“You. Consider it an effort of my toils.”

“Toils? You?” Jihoon let out a small laugh, but he pulled the box towards him when you teasingly reached for it back. He shook his head with a rare grin. “No need to get defensive. I’m just saying. A princess? Toiling?”

“Hey!” You huff, “I bought this out of the kindness of my heart when I went home yesterday.” 

Jihoon visibly perked up at those words, unwrapping the box with great care. The smile on his face grew when he lifted a box, opening it to find a pair of topaz cufflinks, delicate and studded with the small gem in a small circle around the main design. He gently placed the velvet box back inside the wrapping with a small sigh. 

“You didn’t have to, y/n,” he mumbled and you couldn’t help but giggle when he tried to cover his blushing ears. 

“It was nothing. Plus, don’t you remember when you brought me those candies from Obella? I think those were one of the best things I’ve ever eaten,” you laughed, returning to your schoolwork. 

Jihoon nodded pensively, tucking the present into his backpack. “Those are really good,” he hummed, then almost as an afterthought, he added, “They’re Mingyu’s favorites actu–” and then he suddenly stopped, lips pursed when he realized how your expression had suddenly fallen. He cleared his throat with a sheepish look. “Sorry.” 

You waved him away with a huff, dipping your pen back into the ink pot. “Don’t be like that. I’m not going to combust if I hear his name.”

Jihoon let out a snort of laughter. “Why do you hate him anyways? He’s a year younger than us.” 

“I don’t hate him,” was your automatic response. 

“Liar.” 

“I’m serious.”

“Okay fine. Why do you severely dislike him?”

You gave Jihoon a deadpan look. “He’s annoying.”

“That’s all?”

“And excessively flirty, seriously stupid, loud, obnoxious, happy-go-lucky, and the prince.” You said everything so matter-of-factly that Jihoon seemed to just stare at you, processing your words. 

After a beat of silence, “Isn’t happy-go-lucky something that’s good?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up. You know what I mean.”

Jihoon shrugged, closing his notebooks and sliding them into his bag. “Why does him being the prince have to do with anything?” 

You clicked your tongue. “We’ve been over this. He’s the prince of Obella. I’m the princess of Xiawei.”

“I’m Obellan.” Jihoon gave you an eyebrow raise that you refused to acknowledge. 

“You’re different. You’re not annoying like everyone else,” you huffed, crossing your arms. 

Jihoon laughed, poking your puffed cheek with a quick finger, dancing out of your reach when you went to slap his hand away. “Whatever you say.” He stood up, slinging his bag over his shoulder and snatching his blazer from the seat next to him. “I’ll catch you later, yeah?” 

You smiled as you nodded. “See you later!” 

You returned Jihoon’s quick wave as he disappeared through the tombs of the Greane Library, messy black hair waving gently with every step. 

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

“I never imagined our first visit to be under these…” your brother trails off as the carriage wheels rumble over the cobblestone road of the Capital, “conditions.” 

You scoff at his words, fingers brushing away the strands of hair that had fallen into your paled face. You pluck off a stray hair from your red ruqun – a delicate silk hand-woven from the imperial tailor shop of Xiawei. “Neither did I.” 

When the carriage slows, the hushed chatter of voices leaking into the curtained windows of your gilded cage, your brows furrow, taking a gloved hand to gently peel away the velvet curtains. Your eyes squint as the blazing Obella sun, so different in its intensity than the warm comforting rays of the gardens of Xiawei. Even from within the guarded carriage, you can hear the whispers and the sharp glares of the crowd that is gathering around your slowing carriage. The horses whine as the driver clicks his tongue, trying to calm them as he waits for the palace guards to open the blasted iron gates.

Perhaps your face was slowly turning sour by the passing minute or perhaps you looked too ill-disposed because in the next second, Minghao pulls the curtain from your tight fingers, a loud scratch as he pulled the curtain shut and all evidence of Obella’s harsh rays disappeared with the crowded whispers and looks. 

You blink. “That was unnecessary,” you state, leaning back into your seat as the carriage lurches again, starting forward slower than before but still moving into what you and your younger brother presume is the castle – no, palace. 

Minghao just shrugs from his seat across you, face arranged into an expression, you guess, is in between grudging obedience and lamentable loathing. His posture is impossibly straight – almost rigid – against the cushioned seats of the carriage as you roll across the raised platform and into the grounds of the royal palace. 

You rattle along with the carriage as it makes its way around the loop of the palace courtyard, stopping haltingly with a neigh of the horses. 

“Are we–”

Minghao is effectively cut off by a sharp rap, followed by three more, against the doors of the carriage. 

You suck in a breath as you peek out the window, only to see the magnificent towering Obellan palace, gilded in gold and spires decorated with amethysts so big you could use them as formidable paper weights.

“We have arrived,” comes the muffled voice of the driver, drawling and so obviously bored with his decided task. 

When your younger brother raises his brow in question, you nod, letting him stand up, hunched, as he opens the door. 

The first sight you’re blinded with is people. Just row after row of people, all dressed in what Obella supposedly thinks is a great display of their wealth (or power, who knows). And in the very middle, three people – lined in a small triangle and glinting with what seems to be gold-hinted armor. 

Minghao steps off of the carriage, offering his hand up to you with a smile. You feel your expression soften at the sight of your brother, so starkly different amongst these Obellan nobles, forced to accompany you in this diplomatic envoy to the very country that had left yours in tatters. 

The only tell – rare, usually, to see from him – of his anxiety in this foreign place is his outstretched hand, pale at the fingertips and shaking as he awaits yours.

Your golden fengguan, chosen by Yuqi to accompany your gold-embroidered ruqun, feels so much heavier at that moment. 

Your fingertips meet the palm of Minghao’s hand and you duck, stepping out of the carriage and down the steps until your hanfu touches the cobblestone ground. Immediately, the whispers start again and Minghao visibly stiffens next to you, his arm robotically lowering when you tap his hand. 

The two of you stand, side by side, shoulder to shoulder, as the carriage whisks away behind you, leaving you bare to the nobles standing before you. A quick glance to your brother threatens to pull a laugh from your lips. 

His brows are furrowed in the same way as they would be if he was studying for his finals in the Academy and his bottom lip is pulled between his teeth. 

“Nervous?” you tease, mouth barely moving when you see the three-person welcome group start walking towards you when they realize you have no intention of moving. 

Minghao imperceptibly shakes his head. “No,” then, after a pause in a much more worried voice, “Should I be?” 

You smile, but you know it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Depends. Do you think we’ll be paraded around like war spoils or treated like delegated guests?” The question is infinitely rhetorical and it stills Minghao into a silence that is tenser than his usual presence.

The jarring footsteps grow louder against the cobblestones and you watch as the three stop in front of you and your brother. 

Closer now, you can see all three of their faces, glowing, almost, in the afternoon sun. And if this was any other time, you would have laughed, maybe run into two of their arms with the brightest smile on your face. But this situation seems too tilted to their side for you to feel any other emotion but betrayal. Pure flaming betrayal that simmers deep in your stomach. 

“Prince Minghao.” Kim Mingyu’s voice is echo-y across the courtyard and hushes any other voice down to silence. Then, he turns his heavy gaze to you, pinning you down where you stood. 

Mingyu seems to be, in every way, shape, and form, the same from his days in the Academy. Perhaps taller, more muscular, more handsome in the regal (disgusting) way (though you refuse to admit that fact). His gold-plated armor decorating his well-built figure glitters like a second sun, refracting and reflecting the golden rays. His shoulders are wide-set and he stands tall, proud, with his dark hair falling gently in his face, swaying with the currents of the light breeze that carries the scent of Obella’s spring flowers into your nose. 

“Princess Y/n.” His smirk is as sharp as the blade at his side, your name rolling off his tongue in a teasing jab. His voice is smooth, polished, and entirely too smug for your taste – like violently rubbing salt into a throbbing wound that has yet to scab over. 

Bitterly, you reply, “Prince,” and that one word alone leaves a sour aftertaste in your mouth. If your mother could see you right now, she would be rolling in her grave. The princess of Xiawei, greeting someone else in the place as an envoy-hostage. 

Minghao stutters in his bow when you don’t make any move to bend. 

Mingyu gives you the faintest tilt of the head, brows rising. 

“A little late, aren’t we?” Mingyu hums, arms crossing and causing the sunlight to bounce off of his royal crest and directly into your face. He grins at your misfortune and you’re almost one hundred percent sure he did that on purpose. 

“Yes, well,” your lips turn down, matching his head tilt, “even a princess can’t control carriage traffic, it seems.” 

Your words are clipped and cold. From behind Mingyu, Jihoon and Jeonghan, both classmates of yours at the Academy, stand awkwardly as Mingyu looks you up and down in what you assume is ill-fated interests. Both of them refuse to meet your eyes as if they know the real reason why you and your brother have been dragged here. 

“Your highness,” Minghao suddenly interrupts, extending an arm towards the glittering palace. His face is arranged into a haunting expression. “Shall we go inside? My sister doesn’t fare well after long carriage rides.” 

Almost as if his words are magic, you suddenly feel lightheaded, eyelids fluttering as you try to steady yourself. If anyone notices, they don’t comment. 

Mingyu gives a sideways glance at Jihoon, who nods curtly, before grinning, turning on his heels. “To the palace, then. I wouldn’t want our precious princess to go on bed rest her first day in Obella!” He gives you a cheeky little wink that makes you want to poke his eyeball out of its socket. But you refrain. If not for political decency and societal manners, then for your brother’s reputation. 

With gritted teeth, you reply with a curt, “Lead the way.” 

The walk to the entrance is deathly silent, save for Mingyu’s occasional hums of a random song. Somehow, the two of you ended up walking side by side, making you sandwiched between Minghao on the right and Mingyu on the left, with Jihoon and Jeonghan trailing behind, furiously whispering with each other (you pretend you don’t hear them). 

When you reach the giant double oak doors, the numerous guards littering the entranceway suddenly all let out a war-cry-esque yell of some kind before they salute Mingyu in what you assume is Obella’s salute. You can’t help but let your face wrinkle in displeasure. 

Mingyu salutes back and in that moment, a small part of you wonders how the prince – who used to be the lollygagging, effortlessly smart, playboy extraordinaire of the Academy – had transformed into the Crown Prince (apparently, you weren’t too sure), that you see in front of you, smiling warmly and bowing to the palace workers who line the entrance room of the palace. 

But that thought quickly vanishes when Mingyu leads you into the entrance hall because gilded statues, so great in size you know the workers had to haul them up from the antique dusty storage room, line the path into what you assume is the actual royal palace. 

When you sneak a glance to Minghao, he is already in awe, glancing around the chandelier-bejeweled ceilings and carpeted path, eyes wide and mouth just slightly open. 

He leans into you before whispering, “Do they always try this hard?”

A puff of laughter escapes your lips that has Mingyu’s head careening towards you and your brother in apt curiosity. 

“Do you remember the Obellan kids from the Academy? Of course, always.” 

You laugh again at Minghao’s awe-stricken nod, craning his head to try to see over the top of the winding staircases. 

Mingyu clears his throat but makes no move to stop your conversation, instead leading the way further into the palace. You chew on your bottom lip as you walk through the halls, paraded down another set of gilded statues. You can’t help but notice how Mingyu’s shoulders shift determinedly under his armor, broad and strong even under the dim chandelier lighting of the palace. That thought returns to you again, instead now you wonder how his presence changed into such a commanding aura suited for such a powerful Crown Prince. 

Though you would never admit out loud, of course. 

“Are you impressed?” comes Mingyu’s sudden voice. He glances down at you with a grin dancing on his lips. For a split second, you think he’s asking about himself.

You tilt your head. “Are you fishing for compliments?” 

Mingyu laughs. “So harsh.” 

“Someone needs to tone you down,” you mutter, not even missing a beat. From beside you, Minghao gives you a warning look that you refuse to acknowledge. 

Mingyu sighs, as if he’s content with your answer. “I missed you,” he hums. Your brows draw together and Minghao’s head snaps towards him. Then, almost as if Mingyu finally realized what he said, his eyes blow wide open, an awkward laugh escaping his lips. 

“God, not like that!” he defends, hands rising as he suddenly completely stops in the middle of a hallway. Behind the three of you, Jihoon and Jeonghan also slow, blinking confusedly at the two of you. Mingyu runs a hand through his hair while his head shakes furiously from side to side. “No, don’t ever take it like that! I just meant that I missed the Academy days! You know? When we used to– god, not like that – when we would fight and stuff! But not in like a–” 

You have to basically hold your breath to prevent your laughs from spilling out of your mouth, shoulders shaking as you try to remain composed. You hold your hand out, fingers splayed. “--I never took you for such an experimental person, your highness,” you say, managing the sentence without any laughter leaking out of your traitorous mouth.  

You hear Jihoon and Jeonghan (as well as Minghao) stifle their laughter at your words. 

Mingyu’s face is now aghast, his ears a blushing red as he goes to defend himself again. 

But you cleanly cut him off, “If you liked me when we were in the Academy, you could’ve just said.” You offer a mocking little smirk that sets Mingyu’s jaw out of its socket and Jeonghan almost dying in laughter. And you swear that if it weren’t for the situation, it would have felt like you were back in the Academy, glorifying yourself in the midst of Mingyu’s embarrassment. 

“It’s not like that!” Mingyu stutters, almost stumbling over his own feet when you turn away from him and walk down the hall. He grabs your upper arm – which earns him a well-timed glare from both you and your brother – before he walks in stride with you again, trying to rearrange his hair so that it lays neat. “I swear, Y/n,” he starts, and you try to ignore how easily your name flows from his tongue, as his eyes widen almost puppy-like and he shakes his head again, walking sideways, “it’s not like that! I just– it just came out wrong! Completely wrong! I’ve never liked you – not in the Academy, not after we graduated, and definitely not now. And I’ll–”

As he continues with his monologue of how much he apparently doesn’t like you, you can feel your irritation bubble in your stomach. 

“--Never! Never ever! Okay?” 

“I’m so glad you think of me as so unattractive you’ve never ever liked me,” you snap, jaw clenched as you try to walk faster down the hall. 

Mingyu just stupidly nods, sighing in what you think is relief, almost. If he hears your scoff of disbelief, he makes no note of it. 

Beside you, Minghao gapes at the two of you, eyes wide. 

“What?” you snap. 

He shakes his head. “No, no. I just–” he clears his throat, “Never knew you guys were this … close?” 

You make a face, disgust clearly, or you hope, written all over it. “Close? Us? If anything, the only thing being here reminds me of is how much I detested that man when I was younger.” 

Mingyu scoffs from next to you, but still opens the door into the private royal wing, letting you enter first (which you do, with the slightest upwards tilt of your chin). 

“I was so likeable in the Academy!” 

You roll your eyes, mouth curving into a displeasured frown. “Get over yourself. God, how is it that you haven’t changed at all?”

“I can say the same thing to you.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Is that all you have?”

“What, you want me to insult you?” 

“Well, I don’t know, can you? Because all I know is that the only insult you can come up with is–”

“--Can we please save this bitch fight for later?” 

You find yourself on the other side of Jihoon’s outstretched arm, with Mingyu across from you. Jihoon looks at you pleadingly in what you assume is code for back off please! So, you grudgingly step away, fixing your curled hair, huffing. 

Jihoon gives a pointed look to Mingyu who pouts in response, before turning back to you. 

“Your highnesses,” he starts, bowing curtly to both you and Minghao. “His majesty originally wanted to dine with the two of you, but due to some other matters, this plan has changed. He requests for His Highness to accompany me and Mage Yoon to the strategy room where his majesty will meet us. He has also told me to convey his wishes that your highness, Princess Y/n, be accompanied to her room by Prince Mingyu. There is a welcoming ball tomorrow night and his majesty has also requested your presence there, your highness.” 

Jihoon finishes with a deep-set bow. From over his lowered shoulder, you see, with something between elation and horrification, Mingyu’s thunder-shaken face, such sharp handsome features stuck in a weird expression. 

Minghao suddenly steps up, touch light on your arm. “Sir, I would prefer it if my sister and I didn't separate.” 

Jihoon glances at Jeonghan, who shrugs, before turning back to the two of you. “I apologize, your highness,” he murmurs, eyes flitting over to you. “I have been ordered by the King.” 

Minghao looks like he’s going to argue back so you intervene, patting your younger brother’s back. You gently shake your head. 

“No, it’s fine. I’ll do as the King wants,” you oblige, earning a worn, but thankful, smile from Jihoon. 

“Thank you, your highness.” Jihoon gives you one more bow before ushering Minghao (who looks completely unaccustomed to people ordering him around) towards the strategy room with Jeonghan, who gives you one last look before following. 

It leaves you, awkwardly standing, with Mingyu, who had, throughout the conversation, busied himself with gazing out the window like some love-stricken fool. He makes no move to turn back to you, which leaves you standing in the middle of the hall with aching legs because your hanfu is not meant for long-distance travel on foot. 

As you stare at his back and he stares out the window, oblivious (or you hope) to the three who had left, you can’t help but feel relieved that you are placed under Mingyu’s care. At least he was a recognizable face, even if the only memories of him you can think to recall involve you yelling at him or vice versa. 

Finally, Mingyu turns back to you, clearing his throat. His hands are clasped behind his back, trying to appear composed though the faint blush decorating the tips of his ears gives him away. “Well, Princess,” he says with exaggerated formality as he steps up to you. 

It’s unfair, really, how the sun perfectly halos around his form so that it forces you to think that you’re laying eyes upon one of heaven’s very own angels. His tan skin – so much more golden than your days in the Academy – glows, perfectly supplementing his golden armor (or perhaps his armor was supplementing his skin?), and his eyes are warm and teasing. When he stops right in front of you, it forces you to tilt your head up to look him in the eyes. 

When had he gotten this tall?

“Shall we? It seems fate has deemed us a perfect match for tonight.” His voice is light and teasing, almost purposefully airy so that it can slither through your cracks and make you laugh. 

You raise a brow, discreetly shuffling backwards to give yourself more space between his Mingyu-ness and your personal bubble. “More like the king has,” you mutter, trying to maintain your distaste. 

Mingyu just grins, offering his arm to you that you refuse. He shakes his head in faux disappointment, instead gesturing to you to follow. “Either way. I’m honored to be finally of service,” he hums. “Shall I carry you to your room or sing you a lullaby?” 

Your face drops into a look of utter disdain as you scoff. Sadly, your reaction seems to only fuel his amusement. “You and I both know you can’t sing for shit.” 

Mingyu gasps in horror. “I can sing!” He then slows his steps until he’s walking side by side to you. He leans down, face in yours. You will yourself to not pull back and instead keep walking (even though you can feel yourself heat up). 

“You’ve just never heard me actually sing,” Mingyu argues. 

You shrug. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.” 

Mingyu mutters something unintelligible and you’re not too interested in what he has to say, so you let him be, rolling your eyes when you see him pout. 

“You’re such a child,” you sigh, turning the corner with him. 

Glancing out the nearest window, you realize the sun has already half-set, basking your part of the palace in the prettiest shade of colors you’ve seen in the last couple months. 

It seems that Mingyu has seen your staring because he clears his throat, pulling you out of your thoughts. When you turn to look at him with a sheepish look, he’s much closer than you thought he would be, causing you to almost crash into his chest, limbs stiff and pulled towards your own chest. Mingyu’s large hands – warm – steady you, firm around your shoulders. 

“Woah,” he mumbles, “you okay?” 

His words act as cold water sprayed over you and you blink, jolting, almost as you scramble back, dusting off your ruqun and straightening your fengguan from where it sits on the top of your head. 

“Let’s go,” you sniff, turning towards a random end of a hallway. 

Mingyu stops you, hand around your arm. “Dumbass, it’s the other way.” 

You’re too busy trying to compose yourself that you just turn with his order, the insult not even registering properly. 

You follow Mingyu down the hall, cheeks dusted with a light pink, and you try not to be too embarrassed as you hold your head up. As the two of you continue down the hall, the silence that follows is weirdly comfortable and comforting. You can feel yourself relaxing as Mingyu hums a soft melody, glancing back every so often at you. You take the intervals of a forward-facing Mingyu to study him. It’s been at least ten years (maybe less) since the Academy. You graduated before he did and then right away entered Xiawei’s Courts, ultimately pulling you away from any Academy holdings or other events. If you are honest with yourself, you thought seeing Mingyu again wouldn’t be as conflicting as it seems to be right now. And as you stare at his broad shoulders and thick arms, you feel that there is an odd familiarity in the Crown Prince’s presence that you convince yourself you are better off not acknowledging. 

As you near what you presume is your chambers, there are guards loitering around the hallway, trying to play off what is so obviously an Obellan envoy-hostage game as some kind of “guards on break inside the palace.” This time, when the soldiers salute Mingyu, he looks a smidge uncomfortable, saluting back with less enthusiasm. 

“Knights?” you ask, voice light but you know it has an edge of bitterness to it. “Just for a helpless princess like me? If I knew better, I’d think you were holding me hostage or something,” you hum. You keep on walking, trying to gauge Mingyu’s reaction from your peripheral vision as you continue down the hall. 

Mingyu clears his throat, glancing towards one of the knights leaning against the wall. “It doesn’t hurt to have precautions,” he mumbles, and it surprises you to realize how little argument he has with your claims. And then you realize what he means. 

Of course they were holding you hostage. It’s not like you had expected anything other than this treatment when you were coming from Xiawei. But still, hearing it from the very person who had called upon you under the guise of diplomacy bubbled a pot of frustration, bitterness, and betrayal in your stomach. 

He stops in front of a set of double oak doors, handles a gleaming golden and manned by two guards who seem like they want to be doing anything but guard a foreign princess overnight. 

“Yuqi arrived before you did. She’s in her quarters next door,” Mingyu suddenly states, turning on his heels to face you. 

You raise a brow. “That’s,” you pause, eyes darting to the door just a few steps down the hall, “good to hear. She came fast,” you mumble, and your expression softens into one of tiniest gratitude towards Mingyu. 

Then, he snickers behind his hand covering his mouth. “That’s what I always say,” he chortles, laughing at his own joke like he just said the funniest thing to exist. 

And immediately, whatever gratitude or relief you had from his words disappears like it wasn’t there to begin with. You scoff, loud, pushing him to the side to wrench the door open, your eyes rolling. 

Mingyu stumbles to the side, laughter dying to be replaced with a mocking smirk. “What? Oh, right,” he clicks his tongue, “You wouldn’t know what that means. Princess Prim and Proper.” 

Halfway into your room, you glance over your shoulder at him and you hope your glare is heavy enough to pierce through his horribly thick skull (though quite handsome now). “Oh,” you sigh, “go fuck yourself, Crown Prince,” you snap. Your words echo in the hallway and it seems as though Mingyu hadn’t been expecting those words because the last thing you see when you slam your door shut behind you is Mingyu’s shocked face, the smirk diluted down to a surprised twitch of his lips, as if he didn’t know you could curse. 

You shake your head as you look around the room. 

“Fucking asshole,” you mutter to yourself as your eyes adjust to the darkness of the room, the only light being the roaring fireplace on the other end of the room. Just because you hadn’t been with anyone like he had, all prancing around in his half-buttoned Academy uniform with his arm draped over a new girl every week like he needed a new prey to satiate his ever-growing hunger. The audacity still embedded into the stupid stupid Crown Prince almost makes you gag at the prospect of being stuck under his care for the god-knows-how-long period of time you’re caged in Obella as a hostage (oops, envoy!). For all you know, he might just leave you out to die – starve and dehydrate in the royal gardens or something. And when Jun visits you and Minghao like he said he would, your older brother is going to find you dead in some random side-alley of the palace. 

God, the things you go through to–

Knock, knock. 

You exhale sharply, dragging a tied hand over your face before turning towards the door. The last thing you want to see, or deal with, is him. Again! So soon! But when you heave open the heavy oak door, the figure standing in front of you makes you just about cry in joy.

All you’re awarded with is a familiar scent of vanilla, a wave of curly light brown, and a blur of dark silk  before the door slams shut again. 

“I hate you,” Yuqi hisses, gripping your arms as she stares into you. “Do you know what I had to endure in this ghastly place?” 

Despite your exhaustion, you can’t help but bite back a loud laugh. “You already knew we were going to be sent up here.” 

“Yes,” Yuqi groans, throwing her head back, “but while you rode in with Minghao, that doesn’t mean I was prepared to sit in a carriage with Zhong Chenle of all people, while he waxed poetic about the ‘delicate political and economic balance of this arrangement’ and gawked at all the passing noblewomen.” Yuqi throws her hands up, shaking her head in disgust that looked a little too real to be fake. “I thought about throwing myself out thrice.” 

She has you almost choking in laughter, stepping aside to let her roam your room in relative peace. Yuqi gracefully takes on the silent offer, striding past you and frowning at the lavish Obellan style room before flopping dramatically onto the velvet divan, an arm draped over her eyes. 

“Hey,” you hum, hands slapping down onto her shoulders, “you think you have it bad? Now I’m here and he’s here and I’m forced to breathe the same air as the Crown Prince of–”

“--Your nightmares? Horrors? Terrors?” Yuqi groans, hands going to rest on yours, shaking your arms as she turns around, facing you properly. Her eyes are wide and she lets out a laugh of disbelief. “It’s actually tragic!” 

You roll your eyes, moving to pour yourself a cup of tea from the tray by the fireplace. “I wouldn’t go that far. He’s not horrible.” 

Yuqi gasps, hands flying to cover her mouth. “This wretched place has already tainted you so,” she cries, hands slapping her knees. 

You shoot her a dry look, sipping your tea. “I’ve been here for five hours, Qi.” 

“Exactly! Long enough, apparently, to lose your sense of reason!” She shudders dramatically. “What’s going to be next? You’ll start saying he smells nice?” 

Your face wrinkles into displeasure. “Ew no. He smells like sweat.” 

Yuqi blanches, “You smelled him?” 

“No!” You huff, “Of course that’s what he’s going to smell like, god, I don’t know! Stop asking questions!” 

“You hate him!”

You blink. “I never said that.”

Yuqi stands up abruptly, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “You just defended him! You–”

“--I never defended him!” you argue. 

“Well, you did subconsciously! What happened to Qiqi, I’d rather drink poison than be stuck in the same room as him?” Yuqi narrows her eyes, stalking over to where you were standing. She is quiet before she scoffs at your aghast, blinking face. “Stockholm syndrome,” she states, hands flying up, almost hitting your teacup out of your hands. “It’s happening. Already.”

You sigh, gently setting the delicate porcelain down before she actually hits it out of your hands, and pinch the bridge of your nose. “Yuqi, you’re being dramatic-”

“-No!” She collapses onto another sofa, fanning herself with a fan you didn’t even know she was holding. “I know you. I know how much you loathe him. How much you think he’s a horrible, wretched, useless little-”

“-Yuqi.” 

“Fine, fine. Either way, you’re telling me that you think he’s not horrible? God, please,” Yuqi scoffs, arms crossing over her chest, rustling the delicate navy blue silk of her robes, “you’re either lying to yourself or his princely Obellan cooties have already wormed their way inside your brain like a goddamn parasite.” 

You want to laugh, really, but the stringent way Yuqi stares you down has you weakly forcing out a snort. “Fine. I hate him. I think he’s horrible. Good?” 

Yuqi stares. “And smelly.” 

Now you really laugh. “Fine, yes. And smelly.” 

“Say it again.” 

“I hate him…” You trail off when the moon, shining so bright outside like a glittering silver platter catches your eyes. You don’t think you’ve seen it so big and round when you were back in Xiawei. Or maybe you didn’t have time to gaze out windows back home. Either way. When you take a step closer to the large french windows, suddenly, a scene, from just minutes ago, rapidly rewinds through your head. 

His chest, large warm hands firm around your shoulders, and the ever-so-slightly present glint of worry (disgusting) that shone in his eyes for a split second.

“Are you okay, y/n?” 

And you must be actually going insane because you feel heat creep up your neck and blush your cheeks and your lips finds themselves whispering a soft “...most of the time,” towards the window. 

It makes Yuqi gasp so loudly you jolt, almost jumping in the air. 

“Oh my god.” She clutches your wrist so quickly it almost gives you a whiplash. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft. Not for him.”

You scoff, backing away. “As if.” Your eyes, however, search for something else to look at.

“Come on, y/n, I know it’s been years but he’s still the same old mindless prince.” 

“I know, Yuqi.” 

“What did he say to you to deserve even a moment of hesitation?” 

“Yuqi, come on.”

“I’ll stab him. Actually. What did he say?”

“Yuqi.”

“This is a national crisis, y/n! If you’re wavering, then we’re all forever doomed to be chained to this wretched, wretched land with no silk!”

You shake your head, pushing her back onto the couch with a shove. “I hate him,” you insist. “Okay? He’s insufferable, arrogant, and the only thing I’ve realized today was that I’d rather bite my own tongue off than listen to him speak again.” 

Yuqi is quiet while she studies you meticulously, brown eyes tracing over your form as if she could read your aura or something. She finally sighs, slumping back onto the couch. “That’s better. You scared me for a second.” 

You don’t dignify her dramatics with a response, shaking your head as you turn towards a countertop to set your jewels on. 

“...But mark my words. If you ever hesitate again, know that I’m poisoning his wine.” 

taglist...

[heavenlyraindrops]

character writing tips

if y’all don’t agree w some of the stuff on this then pls. Be respectful and scroll

ok let’s go! 😭😭

give a character likeable traits but also give them flaws

if the character is meant to be a protagonist then give them more likeable traits than flaws

if they’re an antagonist then give them more flaws than likeable traits

note that that’s not really necessary. And you CAN make ur antagonists nicer and cooler than ur protags but tbh ion think anyone would read that story 😭😭😭

UNLESS the characters change over time 😃 (+ points for character development yay!!!)

Speaking of character development…. Make there be sum. Ion care if there are fifteen plot holes in the fanfic im reading but if Y/N is STILL self destructive by the end of the 70th chapter then blud what was I even reading for (I do actually care about the plot holes but whatever that’s for another day)

p.s., character development is not always the IMPROVEMENT of a characters personality… maybe Ellie grew into a vindictive revenge seeker after the villain murdered her entire family idk who knows

give them strengths and weaknesses

are they super strong? Well maybe they’re super slow too. Are they really smart? Well maybe they’re really physically weak. Balance it out peoples

plsplsplspls don’t make them cringe “u don’t wanna see my dark side 👿👿” sis no

don’t make them hypocrites… the biggest example of this is prolly Zade Meadows when he has sum big ass organisation who saves girls from getting trafficked and rape but then LITERALLY RAPES ADELINE MULTIPLE TIMES … like dude no that’s not kewl ! 😐

“Alastor Evan Thorne” is an acceptable name but “Violet Misty Ebonia Raven Syringe Cornelia von Darke” is not and for the love of god please don’t say that this needs further explanation

this was kinda shit but some of it was useful so yah I guess have fun guys

edit: this is old as hell and ive improved as a writer, i know know a lot of this is iffy or incorrect so lay off 😭

[svt-kiki]

( 🧺 ) 𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 ⌅ .

EP 109 : MT SVT REALITY 2024

2024.　pairing.　kiki ( fem!oc ) × svt

cw.　eng is not my first language, rough writing, no proofread, mentions of alcohol ( i mean it’s ttt so )

kiki was attacked hugged by mingyu as soon as she entered the lesson room after jeonghan

“what? ...oh, yes,” she said to herself with a chuckle, remembering mingyu was elected as the gose class president in previous episodes ( and carats didn’t miss that he seized the chance to hold her )

then she greeted with the staffs politely as always, wearing a black clop cardigan and a matching color camisole, dark gray pants in a relaxing silhouette, both were soft materials, matching the mt concepts for the day

also wearing glasses ( important )

she just tittered while hoshi, cheol and jeonghan kept adding mingyu’s tasks as the class president

“you guys living to give him a headache for real, arent you.”

she sat on the place nearby the door, then the next thing carats realized was wonwoo silently sitting next to her ( seized the chance guy #2 )

after most of them gathered, she popped up with a question, “isn’t it been a while? doing ttt?”

kiki: i love this content so much :)

wonwoo silently pulled her sleeve and got her closely so that she could join the same car with him

jun: but seriously, do you guys think it is okay? leave the grocery shopping task to us!?

kiki: *stepped ahead, tried to volunteer that she can do instead*

jeonghan, held her from behind and covered her mouth: DON’T

seungkwan: hey! someone is trying to smother the applicant! ㅋㅋ

dino: no, no, hadn’t we strongly agree not to let noona do those things in ttt before?

that’s true, in almost every ttt episodes, she is always willing to do shopping, cook, wash dishes, and clean places aftermath

so boys decided “no more tasks” rules for her, bcs she always doing these tasks not only in the content but on a daily basis

jeonghan: ah i should let her sit in the passenger seat, joshua ain’t do a thing

kiki: well it’s too late for that *comfortable in the backseat*

she just couldn’t stop laughing at how jeonghan introduced the product for ads

kiki: why are u so bad at this

jeonghan: shut up i’m no actor okay

kiki: wait this actually tastes good???

joshua: ahdfsjak

not wonwoo slowly lying down to her lap

they went to the PA for a casual meal

jeonghan: can i have a drink?

kiki: go ahead i’ll drive

[ pretend like the rule never existed ]

jeonghan: *attacked her cutely*

kiki: ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

kiki: i want to eat a popsicle so bad, should i text mingyu?

joshua: if u want i’ll text him instead

kiki: really? like aren't your text piling up?

then every person in the car died

joshua: did u just backstabbed me like that!?

kiki: i'm sorry i didn't intended to ㅋㅋ

she was surprised at how big today’s accommodations were

kiki: staff-nim must struggling to find the places for us every time

[ yes we are ]

jeonghan asked her to play the pool together so she said yes

he laughed about how sometimes he got pissed at how she’s good at everything from the beginning

kiki responded with a serious face, “no, the reason it looks like i’m good at those things is any other pfu boys basically suck at every ball game,” and both burst into laughter

after a while, jun shouted to her from outside, “kiki~! i’ll sing your fav jp song, u wanna join?” so she immediately got outside

[ never miss the opportunity to duet ]

singing i love you by ozaki yutaka with jun, kiki said to him, “we should do the cover of this yk, like officially,” and carats started manifesting in a sec

mingyu: thank god she’s finally here

while naturally helping to prepare the BBQ, kiki looked around and said, “everyone just singing karaoke… i guess we are already at the age now where we need to save our energy for the night…” then died inside

[ blew herself up ]

she’s an honorary member of the low-energy club in the group so

after everyone got at the table and cheered, joshua finally asked her help for his kimchi fried rice which took one eternity

kiki: okay lemme add this- and this- and this spice- yeah now it’s good

[ finally served ]

after playing the games ( she kept losing and got a lil tipsy already ), they cleaned the place for once and shifted to the next game

minghao claimed from the distance that since kiki’s good at playing basketball she should be given a handicap

so she gave a shot from across the pool while everyone watched in silence expecting the miracle but she failed the first attempt

[ miracle is a miracle because it won’t happen easily ]

kiki: what did u expected i'm half drunk

in the ep.3 part, she chilling and half asleep while her roommates mingyu and dokyeom are both hyperactive from early morning

kiki isn’t the type of not good in the morning usually, but this is the day she didn’t need to wake up before 10 am for a long while so she just kept sleeping peacefully, it might be the first time in ttt that she hadn’t get up early than most of them

kiki: wow you actually look like your dad

jeonghan: all of the sudden-?

while seungkwan trying to get on the unicorn float, she was still sleepy but automatily turned on the camera and started recording ( lately posted on weverse ofc )

an.　this is really rough sorry ( almost sucks at this point?¿ ) but it is like a test drive for me before i lost my motivation to write it so here we go. tag list is open, reblog / comments / ask box messages are always appreciated <3

(    📁    )   :   NAVI   :  MASTER LIST     

(    tag list    )   :   @smh-anon @jennwonwoo

[elsweetheart]

okay, so. the jail au.

everybody knows that i’m a good girl, officer!

of course, me and @seattlesellie were rambling abt this for like an hour straight and i just had to share some of the little thoughts we came up with because it makes my brain go brrrr ok !!

going back to my roots with girly fem reader !! reader is a lil strap tease, ellie is a loser, and abby is big and scary 🎀

♡ so you find yourself in jail. the reason behind your imprisonment is up to u ok idk !!!

♡ ellie being the corrupt officer who sneaks you in contraband bc poor girly you can’t seem to last without your ‘stupid MAC lipliner’ or rose quartz or whatever it is you have ellie sneaking in.

♡ meeting her in the storage closet for your usual rendezvous, giggling and tugging at her uniform as she swats your hands away, huffing.

♡ “seriously? do you know how hard it is to sneak this shit in? you better hide that good, ‘cus if you get caught m’not saving your ass from Abby.”

♡ abby, of course is the no nonsense prison warden.

♡ the thing about ellie, is she hardly lays down the law. she’s a fucking loser, infact the only reason she lets you get away with so much and got herself caught up in this whole contraband situation is because she quite literally couldn’t resist a pretty girl batting her lashes up at her and caved. it’s pathetic really, but you think she looks super cute under the dim lights of the storage closet, hoping the lack of lighting is enough to hide the blush across her freckled cheeks (it’s not.)

♡ with ellie being a loser, comes ellie being a perv. “gonna have to hide that real good, okay? can’t get caught.” she’s muttering, stuffing the things you’d requested from her down your bra, really getting in there to make sure it’s hidden, of course.

♡ meanwhile, you can’t seem to keep your hands off her — absolutely adoring the thrill of your dirty little secret, feeling special knowing she doesn’t do this for anyone else. she clears her throat when you kiss her on the cheek and grab at her handcuffs. “ooh, can you use these on me?” you flutter making her tsk, flustered and shooing you away despite the burning in her cunt. “those—those are for making arrests okay, shit— y’so handsy.”

♡ maybe if she’s feeling brave enough one day she’ll put you on your knees as payback and hurriedly use your face to get off. maybe. she daydreams about that a lot.

♡ anyway, she’s forever complaining about your ridiculous requests for her to sneak in— and then fulfilling your request within the next few days.

♡ “ellie, i need buttons.” she sighs. “why.” “i’m making a plushie.” the next day she has buttons in her hand.

♡ again, she’d hate for you to get caught — so she’s stuffing the plastic bag of buttons down your prison pants into your underwear before retying the string on your pants and patting over your pussy where she stuffed the bag. “keep that safe. got it? ‘told you, you don’t wanna be on the other end of abby.”

♡ but oh, you did.

♡ how you adored seeing how far you could push it with the big blonde buff prison warden. it started off as you relentlessly asking her dumb flirty questions until she was grabbing you by the cheeks, towering over you and telling you to “get back to your cell.”

♡ but you were unstoppable, always making sure to give her a show in the shower room when she’d be in there on her watch shift. you were starting to think she was trading shifts just to be in there when you were. she’d always stand by the sinks with her arms crossed and eyes narrowed, walkie-talkie on her hip only accenting her toned body. you’d be across from her, shower cubicle door open, hands sliding up and down your body — seeing how long she’d let you slide your hand between your legs and rub your clit until she’d tell you to “cut it out, you’re wasting hot water.” though, you could see the way she shifted her thighs, and her cheeks would go the cutest shade of dusty pink.

♡ abby doing your cell checks was always scary, always just narrowly missing your hiding spots where you’d shove all the things ellie brought you. “you hiding anything in here ma’am?” she’d eye you as you shake your head innocently, watching her pull your blankets up and shake them. “why do i not believe you? little minx like you, always up to something.”

♡ you nearly let a smirk slip, nearly — but instead widen your eyes until they were doe like, looking up at her as she closes in on you, trying to figure you out. “me? no, i’m a good girl. i’d never do that, abby.”

♡ you’d continue to stare up at her as she takes a long look, raking her eyes down your body before back up to your gaze. “thats officer anderson to you.” before departing, never quite giving you what you want.

♡ until, she keeps catching you with officer williams. and it makes her jealous. because obviously, you’re her little prison slut. only hers.

♡ you stand by ellie in the cafeteria for a little too long, talking to eachother under your breath and sparing side glances. abby watches, before deciding to make an example out of you and grabbing you by the scruff of the neck and dragging you back to your cell where you’re out of everyone’s vision, growling something about “stop fraternising with the officers.”

♡ she nudges you back into your cell and is in disbelief at you holding back a mischievous smile when you turn around to face her where she stands in the doorway. “you’re an officer…?” you challenge, batting your lashes. she eyes you hungrily, breathing heavily for a moment before lowly muttering an “other officers.” leaving you with a victorious smile when she storms off.

♡ and then one day she catches you, really catches you. you’re waiting for ellie in the storage closet for an exchange of goods, and when the door opens and closes, you turn around with a smile — only to come face to face with abby. poor ellie was off on prison bus duty, assigned conveniently by none other than officer anderson.

♡ “what’s going on in here, hm? what have you been up to?” her finger stroking the walkie talkie on her leg. your smile fades, caught and your brows furrow — blinking up at her waiting for some kind of punishment. “a little birdie told me you had a thing for officers sneaking in things they shouldn’t, that true?” she knocks your chin up when you look down, attempting to evade her dark gaze.

♡ “i don’t know what you’re—” “you know, everyone breaks the rules sometimes. even a warden like me.” she steps closer, backing you against the wall making you gasp lightly as something light falls off the shelf behind you. she grabs your wrist, bringing your fingers to her crotch, a hard plastic cock bulged beneath her pants. you whimper, because it feels huge. “yeah, see. i can be sneaky too. maybe you can continue keeping that slutty mouth closed, and i’ll keep my mouth shut about your little meet ups with officer williams. we got a deal?” she pushes into you more, a shelf digging into your back and covered cock pushing up against your crotch making you let out a shaky breath.

♡ “i can — i can keep a secret.” “yeah? huh. maybe i misjudged you. maybe you are a good girl.”

♡ and when you show up all weak legged, bruised and hot faced to meet with ellie the next day for your rescheduled pick up — she has a million questions, brows frowning in not so subtle jealousy and pouting.

♡ “so what, i bring you your shit for months and you just let the first warden who comes in here fuck? that shit is so unfair.” she complains, barely trying to shrug you off when you run your hands up her toned arms and rest them on her shoulders.

♡ “lemme make it up to you, show you how grateful i am, els.” she let’s you kiss her for a minute, melting a little at the way you suck on her bottom lip before pulling away and fixing her uniform after your grabby hands had skewed it. “just— take your shit and get lost. i’ll see you in the cafeteria.”

♡ but she can’t stay mad at your cute little face. especially when you’re sooo sweet to her, and let her take her anger out on you in the next closet meet up with her fingers.

[bambiesfics]

ngl I love bimbo but i'm scared for Ellie 😭😭 if she got poor for spoiling her??

Ellie is poor from spoiling her. Ellie’s like a broke working class gay. She’s the more masculine version of the stereotypical queer Starbucks barista, she’s like the Butch waiter at some random mom and pop restaurant. (This is just my silly headcanon u can choose to pretend Butch!Ellies a professional soccer player or something if u would like tehehe). But I head canon Ellie as like a “pull yourself by the bootstraps” gruff character. Which makes me think that she works hard so she can spend harder, I definitely think her accounts always nearing empty and she just barely manages to save money each paycheck. Which isn’t even because readers selfish or a gold digger, Ellie’s just a huge liar about how much she gets paid, and a liar about all aspect of her financials. She withholds so much that reader just knows not to press, that it’ll get her irate. So reader just respects that and buys the things Ellie encourages her to buy.

Ellie wants to be readers little sugar daddy, she encourages reader to drain her pockets subtly. She says stuff like “hmmm I think this skirt would look nice on you” and readers like “you think? It’s a bit flashy, and I don’t have enough on me at all for it.” And Ellie rolls her eyes “You know I’ll take care of it.” Ellie’s acts like she hates it, but she loves handing her babygirl her credit card just to watch reader bounce up to the cashier with a big dolly smile. She loves the little hesitant glances you throw her over your shoulder as you silently ask for permission to buy the clothes, always checking in with her cause you feel a little bad and just wanna be sure. She loves giving you a relaxed nod, but deep down inside, Ellie just shudders at the way you’re going to model that skirt for her at home. Nothing else on but the skirt too. Ellies a sugar daddy, the ‘sugar’ is just silent. Ellie loves seeing reader walk around in skimpy shit under her watchful gaze. She loves seeing reader bounce up to her with stupid things like “can we get matching bracelets?”

I headcanon that Butch!Ellie literally thrives off being a caregiver. I think on one hand she does so for horn dog reasons, but I think the a larger part of it, that’s more emotional, is that Ellie wants to take care of reader to make up for the caregiver relationship she used to have with Joel and no longer has now that he’s dead. Taking care of you, of bimbo!reader, is Ellie’s way of assuming his fatherly role but for herself, a way to feel connected to him once more, see the world partially through his eyes. Well that is until reader carries Ellie’s baby or something, which would then be like the ultimate “I’m just like you dad” moment for Ellie. The day she’s bouncing her own daughter in her arms for the first time. When she really sees, just how Joel saw her.