#cause I remember at 11 I thought the world would end from using too much electricity before I realised my compulsion was irrational

[ctrlhope]

Bound By Blood (m)

synopsis: A servant to the state since birth, forced to work for the royal family until you die. These are the conditions that have granted you life, yet are they are the same ones that can take everything away. He can take everything away. But he would never, for you are his future, his eternity.

k.taehyung x f.reader

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: wc: 16.0k

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: genre: royalty au, soft yandere, fluff, smut, smidge of angst

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: content: soft yandere!prince!taehyung, maid!reader, power imbalance, talks about death/violence, blood, slight predator/prey dynamics, manipulation, misunderstandings, dom!tae, tae calls reader lamb, oral (f.receiving), marriage related dirty talk, virginity kink/loss of virginity, size kink, praise, reader is fucked dumb, implied kissing reader while she sleeps, implied offscreen somno, implied stalking, ownership, tae is rlly sweet and adorable

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: notes: hello!!! this was meant to be a drabble but as you can see it spiralled out of control lmao. i got a little hyper fixated (and grew a really bad crush on this taehyung) so it ended up being way longer than i initially thought! regardless, i hope you all enjoy it as much as i did writing it!!

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

The Kim Empire. 

Your home, your family, your livelihood all wrapped up in those three little words.

They practically brandish your mind, have been since you were no more than a babe. Stuck in the clutches of everything Kim since you were born. Your mother a maid, your father gone from the face of the earth. At least as far as you are concerned he is, anyway. 

He is better off dead. The alternative of him living scott free in some far off land, meanwhile you have to serve the hand and foot of the king sets no more than the bitter taste of coffee beans against your gums. 

Bedding your mother, no more than a fresh-faced maid at the time. Outcasting her the second after when he had to have known the rules of the palace. The demise it would cost both her and her future daughter. Perhaps every generation that followed as well– if there were to be any, that is. 

Housestaff are not meant to have relationships. They are meant to serve the king and his bountiful family. How are you meant to do anything else with a child bouncing at your hip, a husband grabbing at your ass. 

You’ve heard the speech plenty of times. The words ingrained in your skull just as the brand you received when you were far too young to remember the pain of it. Evidence that you are bound to the palace by blood until the very moment you take your last breath. 

The punishment for becoming pregnant within the walls of the palace are simple: your child belongs to them. For anything within the Kim Estate is their rightful property, given to them by the grace of god. 

You, a gift from god to serve the empire. You would snort at the notion if training from a young age prohibited it. You are just a result of your mothers kindness, her naivety. 

You could never find it within your heart to blame her. She was just a girl who thought she was in love. Fired for her love. Had her daughter taken from her to serve for her love.

Love is something you will never be granted the property of. 

You will be granted an allowance to send home to your mother to keep her afloat. You will be granted a room to sleep in, clothes to wear, food to eat. A secure job in which you can never be fired– well. That is a lie. Though, your termination would come at the end of an axe, rather than a piece of paper. 

You used to muse at the thought– when you were a young girl, no more than 11 or 12. Going through your melancholy years, hating the rest of the world for simply existing. For putting you in a position where you could not change your fate, instead had to endure your present. Feeling like a  girl trapped in a tower just like the bedtime stories had always prescribed. 

One time you had caused such a ruckus in front of the oldest Kim son you really did think you were going to get the axe. Hell, you were even prepared for it. Locked away in a cell for two nights, brought before the executor. 

Right before the swing was meant to be brought down against your neck the head maid ran into the room, gave some sort of letter to the man. She apologised profusely, gripping your ear and dragging you away from the scene. 

You hadn’t acted ary since then. It taught you your place. Made you realise the need to survive buried deep within your bones. In the innate way some sort of wildcat would lash out until it was bloodied and on its last breath. 

You would not die at the end of a knife. You’d live your life, acting a maid until you could die peacefully of old age. Even if it meant surrendering yourself to servitude for the most annoying brat you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

A quiet sigh slips past your lips at the mere thought of him. The sound would get you punished if anyone were to hear, especially in respect to the coveted crown prince of the kingdom. Few share the same opinion as you of him– but then again most that work here aren’t forced. 

It is only when the stars are strung high in the sky that you allow yourself to feel such things. When you stay awake past the beginning of rest hours, most of the staff (save for the night shift) falling to sleep hours prior. Only then when you’re out in the gardens do you allow indignation to satiate your brain. 

For the few hours of freedom you may hold dear until the next morning begins and you are forced to live the same day once more. Over and over again until the end of time. 

Your fingertips reach out as you walk, bruised from the scrubbing of floors, to find purchase against the walls of flowers rimming the maze. Rough fingertips dance against the gentle petals of roses, lulling in the feeling. Picking themselves against the thorns without much of a thought, not withdrawing. Only pausing feet to observe. 

How can something so delicate and beautiful wish to cause harm? It does not. It simply desires a way to survive. You could never fault it for that. 

“Pretty, are they not?” A dark, husky voice sends cold down your spine. Hairs become on edge, back straightens taught, ears perk just as if you are an obedient dog. Fear flashing through your entire being.

You do not wish to turn around. Do not have any want to face the man that has caught the air in your lungs. The one catching you in the garden without any proper attire in place. Though you must. You must bow, grovel at his feet for forgiveness for allowing him to see you in your nightgown. For not being in bed as you should. 

Prince Kim has never been known for being kind. 

Your body acts for you while your mind sets on pause– taking several steps forward, bending your body at the hips to give a proper 90 degree bow. Your hands clasp before you, hair coming down in front of your face. 

“Prince Kim–” You rush, suddenly out of breath, “Please forgive my insolence. I-I am not of right attire or mind to be standing in front of his excellency right now. Nor should I be excused for touching the property of the palace. I have no proper excuse and any punishment you decide will be deserving. Please forgive me.” The words recite from your lips like a bible– instruction of them being heard time and time again. 

Cold night air whips at your ankles, fluttering the gown around your ankles. The chill only adding to the cold sweat you’ve discovered has perspired. Making your hair dance around your shoulders.

You expect something, anything really. A slap, a single word. Though there is only silence in response. Silence that extends far too long and feels far too pungent for your taste. If he was going to do something, you rather he just get it over with. 

After what feels like an eternity, you finally hear the baritone of his voice once more.

“Pretty, are they not?” He asks again, repeating the same sentiments as before. Confusion bristles through as a kite in the summer air. Why is he asking you this? Is he not annoyed he caught a maid in such a level of disrobement? What is he trying to gain? What does he want? 

All the questions you do not have any hope to answer rush through you causing you to feel confused and incomposed. Every boring lesson you were forced to sit through never taught you how to deal with this exact situation. You aren’t sure what he wants, nor your place in the garden. The thought scares you. 

Against your better judgement, you allow your chin to tilt up only slightly. Only enough to look at the man– to try and read the expression on his face so you can better analyse your next action. 

The shock you feel when you find his face is only inches from your own, frame bent down to make his eyes level with yours is something you cannot explain in words alone. 

You would prefer to scream and run, however that is not an option at this moment, or so it appears. Instead, your eyes only widen in shock, in trepidation. Your mouth opens into a small ‘o’ as you stare.

Never before have you made eye contact with a member of the family. Never before have you had the luxury to view one so close. In any other circumstance, you suppose, you would surely be punished for such a thing. Someone lower should never view a future king in such a way.

You wish you could say he was a heinous, ugly beast for hatred of the palace alone. Yet you can’t, for he isn’t. He is beautiful. 

Sure, you knew that already. Paintings of him are plastered across the walls– his face is everywhere eyes are able to reach. Yet this close, at this angle, you can’t stop the way your heart skips a beat. Can’t help but admire every facet of his complexion before being thrown in front of the lion again. 

A gorgeous, blinding smile wipes across his face the moment you face him. Lips forming into an adorable box after he finally has your attention fully drawn on him. You’re startled back once again, sending your brain into a further whirlwind than before. 

He desires an answer.

“I um… Yes. I suppose they are.” You nod slowly in response, following in his footsteps as he returns to full height. 

You must follow his lead– it is how you will survive. 

You usher a stray lock of hair over your shoulder, trying to stop it from hitting your face. The air starts to become stale again, feeling empty in the lack of his reply. It is awkward, and the way he stares at you, eyes darting around your face– your figure, has you feeling in some sort of girlish, embarrassed way. 

You think you dislike the feeling. 

“Are you a fan of roses?” His arms are pulled behind him, wrapped together as he bounces on his toes in something that looks like… boyish delight? The muddle of your brain can't help to understand a single thing. He is making no sense, trying to make conversation with you. Trying to find a morsel of companionship in someone who is meant to bow to him like he is the true god of your mortal plain.

You will have to oblige until he allows you to depart. 

“I suppose so.” 

He frowns. Try again.

“I adore them, the palace always has the most gorgeous petals all year round.” You smile at him, hoping it masks any discomfort you feel. 

The smile returns to his own lips as he begins to walk. Tilting his head to you as a cue to join him. You try to keep your paces a few behind his own, a maid should never walk beside a member of the family. Though he only slows in response, matching your gate even though it is obvious he hates having to slow down. 

Why is he behaving in this manner? It makes no sense to you. 

“The flower of devotion.” He nods, breaking the silence once more and keeping his eyes straight ahead. 

You almost want to admire his profile– the gentle curve of his nose, yet you refrain. Training your eyes ahead, keeping your fingers laced in front of you. Trying to look as put together as possible at this moment. 

“Is it?” You quiz, unable to take the awkward silence anymore. He doesn’t seem to mind it. Unbothered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his loose, flowing sleep pants. 

“Of many other things, as well.” He nods, sending a slight smile at you. 

“I don’t know much about the language of flowers.” Though it feels wrong to be talking with Prince Kim so casually, you try your best. The more you give in, mayhaps the sooner he’ll bore and the faster you will be able to run from the cage. 

“Tell me your favourite, maybe I can tell you its meaning.” He pauses and you find yourself at the foot of the gazebo. He reaches out his hand, offering to help you up the small stairs of it. 

All over again you find yourself taken aback. The prince is requesting that you touch him, not for his service, but your own. He desires to help you. Is for some reason treating you like a lady. 

You don’t understand it, yet with great hesitation you oblige. You place your hand on his much larger one, allowing it to encase it. Help you up the stairs.

“I don’t know many…” You hope he cannot hear the hesitation in your tone, “Though I’ve always been fond of lilies.” You tell him, attempting to pull your hand away from his own as you reach the top. 

He doesn’t allow it, keeping your small palm tight in his own. Fear trickles in once more, circling around your heart, constricting it. 

You knew you shouldn’t have trusted him in the slightest. It is here where you shall face punishment for all the previous misdemeanours committed. White stone shall be painted with red and you will be left to your own devices to clean up the mess.

Your lungs start to take in more air, though of course you try to disguise it. Turning around to face him, to discover why he has kept you held firm, air is leaving your lungs for another reason entirely. 

He holds your hand close, examining your fingers. Tilting it back and forth, smoothing his thumb over the back of your skin. If he takes note of the little dots of red, he doesn’t make comment of it. He only curls his fingers upwards, hooking against your own. Bringing your hand up to his lips as if it was the most delicate thing on earth. Staring at them with a passion you doubt you’ve ever seen before.

“Rebirth.” His breath fans across your knuckles, slowly lowering to place a gentle kiss against the skin. His lips are soft, so gentle against your weary flesh. So full of safety, so full of song.

When he retracts, he pulls away no more than a millimeter, though his grip tightens. 

“Purity.”

Your first meeting with the prince had left you with a flurry of emotions, none of which you could hope to syphon through. For hours he kept you in the gazebo, sitting with you. Talking until it appeared the sun was cresting over the horizon. 

He refused to release your hand the entire time. His fingers playing with your own, perhaps obsessed with the feeling of your tiny hand laced with his own pristine skin. Did not pay any attention the several times you tried to excuse yourself, only changing the subject of conversation to try and keep you in place.

It was strange. Confusing. You did not understand the reasoning or cause behind any of his actions. 

Well, at least until the next morning while you were scrubbing the floors. Your friend Annabell cleaning right by your side. Catching up, gossiping about the new recruits found in the manner. It is only times like these when you actually get the chance to talk, to giggle with someone meant to be your equal in both age and house status. 

The only chance you’re truly able to forget about the fact she is able to leave once her contract expires. But it does not matter– any small amount of spite you hold is slashed away by her kind smile. The understanding in her eyes as she treats you like just another maid set to work for the king instead of a captive. 

It is only after the 7th yawn of the morning she asks about the poorly covered bags under your eyes. You had gone to bed with the rest of the girls, there is no reason you should be so tired. You never appear to be, at least it is not shown around others.

You struggle with yourself for a moment, trying to decide whether the night before was meant to be kept as a closely guarded secret to your chest. Yet one look at your closest confidant had you spilling everything. 

The entire night– the stars, the flowers, the way he prattled on. How tight he gripped your dirty, calloused hand against his pristine soft ones. 

You feel strange speaking of it, remembering it in any way. It causes your cheeks to heat and a fury to settle below your ribs. 

It is a strange feeling, yet not an entirely unwanted one. 

Your eyes train to the floor as you spill your soul, unable to keep it in once it starts pouring out. You try to keep your tone as neutral as possible– to tell her about the night as if it was a simple news story you heard from a guard. Though, you’re unsure of your success in the matter. 

A poised laugh leaves the lips of your counter, her eyes cresting into half-moons. 

“You cannot be serious right? You tell stories.” She giggles, shaking her head before continuing her assault on the floor. 

You simply shake your own. 

“It happened, I was as shocked in the moment as you seem to be now.” She lets out a small bellow of giggles once again. 

“No, no. I believe it happened entirely. I’m only talking about the fluster of your face.” She giggles, lifting her rag and shaking it for dramatic effect. You roll your eyes, cracking a small smile.

“There is no such thing.” You laugh knowing that there is. 

“Oh my heavens. Y/n, you cannot tell me you’ve grown fond of the Prince, have you?” Her words are hushed now, much more so than before. As if someone may be listening to the conversation. 

You tense in reply, unsure of the answer yourself. The closest you’ve ever felt to fondness of another man was a stable boy a few years back. Only 17 at the time, head wrapped in romance novels that you didn’t entirely understand. He was handsome and he was kind. However just as you were starting to become closer to him, he was sent away to work at another palace. 

You had not been optimistic since then.

She takes your silence as an answer in itself. Moving towards you, gripping your shoulders and hauling you to sit on your haunches. Forcing you to look at her face as she speaks. 

“You cannot be serious.” She repeats again, hoping for any sign of doubt. All she receives is bewilderment in reply, “Y/n. You can never trust Prince Kim.” 

You sigh, “I know, Anne, I–” You’re cut off with her own voice again.

“No, not in the way you’re imagining.” She sighs, letting her hands drop from your shoulders to continue scrubbing at the floor. Making work of herself as she speaks, “The other maids don’t tell you of much, do they?” 

You can’t deny it. Your seclusion within the castle walls is only partly of your own design. 

Other maids do not feel as though they can trust you, seeing as you are full property of the crown. In their eyes, you hold not a crumb of loyalty to your own kind. Few maids speak to you like Annabell does for fear the second they say anything wrong you are going to tell the world. 

You would never, though your word is worth its weight in feathers to them.

“They don’t care for me as you do… no…” You admit, continuing to clean as well. She already knew the answer, letting out an exhale before she speaks.

“Prince Kim has a pension for… debauchery… I shall say,” She flinches at her own words, yet doesn’t know a better way to put it, “The variety in which he uses pretty words to seduce young ladies to bed with him. Royalty from other lands, general’s daughters, maids. It matters not. He likes them for the night then pretends they shall never exist again.” 

Each word she speaks sends another stab into your gut. A dull pain blooming from the same places which a swirling was forming before. 

Ah. It all makes sense now. 

“Oh.”

“He has a particular fondness for the other maids, you know. Bedding them without a second thought.” A grimace forms on your friend's lips, scrubbing harder into the already shining floors, “There is no reason to form any sort of affection for that man. It will only end with his seed inside your core and a knife in your heart.” 

Yes, everything she is saying makes perfect sense. You feel almost stupid to not see it before. Maybe you just didn’t want to see it– want to think about it in any sort of fashion. But this makes much more sense than the crown prince wanting to speak to you for any other purpose. Explains why he was acting as a true gentleman to someone so much lower than him. 

However, you find that it does not take away the cavernous pit that has formed in your gut. 

“I see, I have no desire for either.” You nod your head in understanding, not sure of what else to say. “I don’t understand why he’s taken an interest in me, though.” 

She gawks, “I don’t understand why it has taken him so long to in the first place.” She shakes her head.

“Nevertheless, it doesn’t matter. Y/n, you must promise me. You will not fall for him, nor give any part of yourself to him. He is not someone that will care for you like you deserve.” She states, blue eyes piercing icicles into your own. She is determined and will not relent until you agree.

“I do not wish to. Not after hearing all of…” You make some sort of motion with your hand, “that. Anyone would be a fool to like him.” 

You nod your head while Annabell smiles in agreement. 

“Good.” 

Those are the last words you exchange with anyone for hours. The rest of the day passed by with lightning, an endless turnstile of things to take care of. A ball was to be held soon meaning the castle would be a wreck for the next few days. Too much planning, cleaning, sewing, coordination had to take place before anyone could rest. 

Honestly, you were grateful for it. A break from thinking was much needed. As is a good night’s rest. 

You sigh, already imagining how lovely it would feel to pull off your shoes for the day. Peel the cotton off your body and replace your dress with something more comfortable. 

Oo! Hopefully enough warm water will be left for a quick bath. That would be just wonderful, your muscles would be able to unfurl. The perfect thing to lull you into a glorious sleep.

Your arms stretch over your head as you finish descending the staircase into the maid hallways. Bones in your back pop from the pressure, causing a sigh to make its way from your lungs. Your nimble fingers make their way to the ribbon holding your hair in place, untying it and allowing the tresses to fall. 

Soon you would be in the maid resting quarters– your appearance would matter not there anyway. 

You send small smiles to other staff members passing you, those that have either just woken for the night or those who still have work to do. Yet in return, each one of them just stares at you with an incredulous look. Turning and whispering to their friends as if you were not still in front of them. 

You can’t help to understand why. Those around you may not have considered you a friend, but they were never rude. Always polite when need be. It has you feeling strange, some type of nervousness as you get closer and closer to the hallway extending to the maids personal rooms. 

Rounding the corner, you discover exactly why. 

His frame looks entirely out of place standing there. A perfect, pristine picture in a hallway of drab, illuminated only by the lanterns hanging on the wall. Royal blue tunic draped on his shoulders only emphasising his status. 

He looks as though he was never meant to be here. Like a mistake was made along the cobblestone walls. No, he looks as though he is meant to be among the living. Not in your dreary, windowless life. Nothing could change that. 

You stand there frozen, a deer caught in the lanturn of a hunting party. A pounding of your heart, as well as the dark swell of your gut coming back to life. Why is he here? Why the hell does he have a bouquet of flowers?!

You wish to scream, but you don’t. You have already been caught. 

His eyes look up from where he created a small pile of dirt on the floor. His face coming alight in an instant, pushing himself to full stature from where he once leaned against the wall. Long legs making their way towards you while he suddenly has the decency to hide the bouquet behind his back. 

Annabell certainly did not mention this method of Prince Kim’s seduction. You had never seen him down here before. 

“Hi.” Is all he says once he is finally face to face with you. His face bright and youthful. Excited.

It seems all formalities have been dropped in his mind, though you refuse the notion. 

“Prince Kim.” You simply reply, lowering yourself in a curtsy. 

He pays no mind, almost pretending you never did it in the first place. Instead, he simply rocks back and forth on his heels, bouncing slightly in delight. Wanting something, unable to voice it. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, hoping to end the encounter swiftly to stop all of the prying eyes leering into your being. 

“I brought you something.” His eyes do not break contact with yours once and you can see his hand twitch by his side as if it wants to reach out for something. You're glad he has the decency to hold back, so you shall do the same by pretending you never saw the flowers in the first place. 

You choose not to ask yourself why he brought you a present. It must just be a trick of seduction.

“I am honoured to accept such a thing.” You send a small smile his way, something between real and fake. It seems to make him beam. 

His arm comes out from behind, holding the flowers between both of your bodies. You look down at them, shock written across your features. 

Sure, you had noted them as flowers before. But you think these may be the prettiest ones you’ve seen in your whole life. Petals of orange, white, and purple cloud in your eyes. Stomatas filled with the sweet pollen.

Lilies. All different kinds– ones you’ve never seen before.

They’re out of season, at least you think they are. How did he get these? Why is he giving them to you? Why is he trying to get the butterflies to return? Why is he trying to make your heart explode?

“Prince Kim…” You’re not sure what to say– instead gently reaching out to feel the velvet of a petal. Staring intently at their colours, unable to pull your eyes away. 

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” His voice is a husk of a whisper, as if you’re the only two in the hallway. As if other maids are not passing, as if they are not staring at the two of you.

“Yes… I… I’m not sure what to say.” It is all so hypnotic. 

“Thank you would be a good beginning, no?” His smile is soft, a light chuckle present in the tone.

You pause, tilting your head to look up at him fully– a large, real smile donning your lips.

“Yes. Thank you.” 

You feel as if you are floating, just as you would when reading those romance books in your late teen years. Like the world has stopped moving save for the prince in front of you slowly passing the flowers into your arms. 

Your hands brush against each other and you feel his fingers twitch, tightening ever so slight. Wishing to grab onto your hand just as he had done the night before. Wishing to insect every line that traces over your fresh once more.

However, he refrains. Allowing his ringed fingers to sink themselves into his pockets.

“I was just going to have them delivered. I’m not really meant to be down here, you know,” His smile is shy, “But I didn’t know your room. That, and I wanted to see you again.” 

You look down, unable to keep the eye contact he presses you for. Prince Kim is too much for you. You don’t understand how he couldn’t be too much for anyone. 

“Oh…” You’re a flush, “Thank you for saying that.” 

“It is nothing to thank me for.” He chuckles, bangs dimming the hues of his eyes, “I’m sure I bored you with all of my ramblings.” 

He did, partly, but that was more discombobulation for the situation and a sense of tiredness creeping into your bones. You shake your head quickly.

“Of course not. I had.. Fun.” Mayhaps fun isn’t the right term, yet there is no word that exactly describes your emotions of last night, nor the ones of today.

“As did I.” His lips are tight in a smile again, feet bouncing on their heels once more. He’s nervous, wants to say something again but isn’t sure how.

You’re not sure how to feel about learning what that habit means. Not sure how to feel about what any of this means. You have not had a moment alone to truly dissect what all of it is. 

“I would love to spend the night talking to you again, if you would allow me.” You don’t think you would love anything more, yet you know you would not be able to function. Would probably make a fool of yourself, too. 

“I-I think it would be best if I were to get some rest… I had not even an hour before I had to start working last night.” 

He frowns, “That’s not good for your health…” He pauses, searching your face for any signs of distress, “Then let's talk in your room. I will only stay until you sleep.” 

You pause, air drifting back into your lungs.

Ah. Right. 

The words of your friend sink in once again, breaking you out of whatever trance he had put you under. Whatever spell he laced through both of your ears to have you singing songs of praises for him and the crown. 

He wants you as a notch in a bedpost. Nothing more. It is clear as day and you are a fool to think anything other than that. This is all just a cleverly rehearsed show. You will not fall victim like your mother. 

All royalty is the same. Use use use. Beat a dead horse until it stops coughing up any sort of reprise. 

Your posture is suddenly tense, fist gripping the flowers so tight your knuckles appear white. 

How dare he think so low of you. How dare he think he might be able to fuck you for nothing. 

“Men are not allowed in the women's private quarters.” Your voice is staunch, though it is not as if he can tell nor cares. 

If he does, he doesn’t show it. 

“Ah,” The lilt is still evident in his tone, the cat playing with the mouse, “But I am not any man, am I?” His body leans a bit closer, pulling his face parallel to your own. Smirk playing on his lips. 

Beauty is a deceptive thing, isn’t it? “When I am king I’ll make it so I can see you whenever we both desire.” Something heats in your gut at those words, yet anger quells it just as fast. 

“It is a shame that you are not King yet, then.” You nod politely in his direction, trying to excuse yourself. Yet your words only seem to excite something in his eyes, lighting a fire behind them. 

“My, I didn’t know you felt that way.” He smiles coy. A flustered sensation overcomes you as you realise the double meaning behind your words. You had made it sound like you wanted him in that way when that could not be farther from the truth.

“I do not.” You state, your voice ice. Though once again, it seems that it does not pierce him. 

“There is no reason to be so cold, Y/n.” He sing songs, tapping one of his long fingers against the side of his head. 

“I am not being cold! You are just not listening.” You sigh in exasperation. Exhaustion and annoyance make you forget yourself, causing your volume to rise just as his own does. This only seems to excite him more. 

“I have heard enough.” He giggles, boyish and what others would describe as cute. Right before you’re able to argue back once again, he cuts in with his own voice once more.

“I will leave you for now. Find a pretty place for the flowers.” 

He smiles generously at you, beginning to walk away, “Have a good night. I’ll see you soon.” 

In your shamble of a disposition, you’re left stuck there. Staring at his back as he retreats down the hallway. 

The shock of everything that had just transpired coming over you all at once. How poorly you had behaved. How you spoke to him. He could have you killed for any one of those things however instead he left you with a bouquet of flowers and a promise for another night. 

You scramble to find yourself, to move yourself from out of the eyeline of every other maid. To make your way to your room, your one sanctuary as quickly as possible. 

It is only when you’re in those walls, hard oak door shut firmly beside you that you have to remind yourself of your promise to your best friend. Remember that the prince fights his battles with words and emotions. 

Your second meeting with the man had left you even more confused than the first. Thousands of questions and emotions real through your bones at a pace your brain can’t manage to understand. Leaves you fuming, trying to form a single coherent thought as you analyse the last two nights with a ferocity unimagined. 

In your state, however, you neglect to think of the one question that should be dancing before you, held on a string just out of reach. 

Why did he know your name? 

It is apparent that since that night, Prince Kim has located which room you find habitance in. 

This morning, another letter has found itself slipped under the base of your door. They have become commonplace now– letters detailing apologies for why he was unable to visit, what he had gone about on his day, his regrets that he has not heard back from you in what feels like ages. 

He’s tried to speak to you a few times in the palace when you work. His eyes always trained on you with something you’re unable to describe when you clean nearby. 

You wish you could say it was perverse in manner, but it was nothing of the sort. 

Every once and awhile you would catch a lily pinned to his breast pocket. He would send you a secret smile whenever it caught your attention. As if it was a tale meant for only the two of you to know. As if he wanted to carry a portion of you with him.

You may be naive in saying so, nor do you have much experience in the matter, but these do not feel like the actions of a man who simply wishes to find home under your dress. These feel more personal. More extravagant than anything else. 

Nevertheless, you ignore every single advance. Annabell made you promise, and it was a promise you were intent on keeping until your dying breath. 

Put the letters away in a box, never to be responded to. Avoided looking at him whenever he was near. Rushed out of rooms when it appeared he was intent on  making his war for you.

Icing out the prince is what is best. Whatever lilies he will wilt and die and you will be able to continue on with your hatred of the Kim family as well as your blood pact with the throne. 

You only wish it was that easy.

“Y/n!! Miss Y/n!!” There is a scramble outside of the door, voices hailing for your presence. You don’t know why– you’re on wash duty. Anyone, unless they’re extraordinarily new, would know that. 

The voice grows more erratic, more panicked. As if their life depends on finding you in that very moment. The other maids in the quarters send their glaces to you, urging you to go yet not one opens their mouths. 

At least one bonus of endenturing your entire life to the palace is that you have grown in rank. More than 10 years has granted you a decent position. 

A hushed sigh slips past your lips and your hands find themselves forcing the pile of sheets into the washing tub. Your hands quickly wipe away at your apron, ridding them of any moisture before pushing open the door. 

Stepping into the hallway lined with stone you notice only a single girl. Her entire form shaking as she paces the hall– panicked. Blonde curls bouncing with every step, cheeks a fluster. 

A new recruit, indeed. Celley is the name she wears. 

She had just entered with the last batch of new maids, starting at the palace no more than 2 months ago. She was a recruit you were unsure of– not having a lick of grace or balance, nor any experience with serving. But you suppose there are many reasons maids are chosen. 

You do not like to think of them.

Her feet are suddenly clamouring over to you, noticing your presence for the first time since you’ve stepped in the hallway. Her small, shaking hands grip your shoulders, holding you with all the will she seems to possess. 

“Excuse me have you seen–” She stops herself, tiny pants pausing as her eyes go wide, “Oh my days! Miss Y/n! You must hurry!” She rushes, hand gripping your wrist as she tries to pull you away. 

Though your face twists in confusion, your feet remain firm. 

“What’s the matter?” You ask, both sympathy and concern entering your frame. You can admonish her later for her lack of manners, however now, the girl seems truly frightened. Her large steel eyes looking back at you, pleading. 

“The crown prince! He’s!” She’s out of breath once again, continuing to try and urge you on.

This time, the second the word prince is muttered, you begin to follow her pace, “He’s lost his mind! He’s going on a firing spree! Locking up anyone who tries to calm him!” 

“What? Why is that? Did something happen?” You ask hushed, urging the girl to keep her voice down. Though you both are similar in age, it is apparent who has experienced this type of thing before. 

“He got into some kind of spat with his father. His instructor was fired when he tried to continue on with their lesson.” It seems she understood your message, continuing to hurry you down the halls. 

“And what am I meant to do?” 

“I-I don’t know!” She lets out a quiet yelp, pulling you closer as you exit the maid hallways and enter the palace ones, “His personal maid is away visiting family. She said to leave everything to you if something were to happen! I-I didn’t know what else to do!” 

Damn Eleanor and everything she stands for. Why the hell did she have to bring your name into this?! Shouldn’t the head maid be called in times like this?! Not you, someone who wants nothing to do with any member of the royal family. Especially the crown prince himself. Sure, there must be rumours spreading around but you had managed nearly three weeks without speaking to him!

You let out a sigh, squaring your shoulders in an attempt to appear more confident, more put together. You will do this, and you will come out victorious. Every battle before has left you victor. What is one more?

“I understand. It will be dealt with.”

The least you can gain is the idyllic picture of the prince to be shattered forever. That would be the most ideal outcome, something to truly force him out of your heart for good. You will not fall prey to him and his earthly desires. He will not win your heart. 

At least that is what you hope. 

The throne room's doors stand before you, delicate lacings of gold worth more than your entire being etched into its surface. A glittering picture for what is sure to be a bloodbath behind its contents. 

A deep inhale of warm air fills your lungs, hand pressing against the door as you force it open. Face someone you have not wanted to see nor extinguish the flames of in nearly a month. 

He stands before you, 20 paces ahead. A broken bottle in his hand as he heaves, shoulders rising and falling with the passion of ten thousand suns. The look of murder in his eyes as he stares down at a maid, her form on the ground. Bowing with as much might as she can possess, looking for any exit possible. Few other maids stand around the room, keeping their heads low, avoiding any eye contact possible. 

Though he looks like a mad man– mayhaps a god of war himself, not a single hair is out of place on his head. He is still the picture of sovereignty. And though your breath spikes, you find that you are not afraid. 

What a strange feeling it is.

The creak of the door sends single to him, has him whipping his head to face you. Anger etched into his features, a new target befalling his sight.

You stand tall, moving towards him. You will rise to the position given to you, even if it shall mean your inevitable downfall. As long as the new staff are safe.

Only, when he looks to you, no wrath is found. No anger or deceit. The second his eyes meet your own, his expression drops along with the bottle in his hands. More glass littering the floor in its wake. 

His eyes soften, his lips turning from a sneer into a gentle frown. His shoulders automatically lower, and suddenly it appears that there is no one else in the room. His legs move automatically, carrying themselves to you with such a hurried pace you would have thought he had seen a long lost friend. 

Oddly, this scares you more than when he was angered. 

You start into a bow, “Prince Kim, I’ve come in place of–” 

His arms wrap themselves around you before you can speak another word. Pulling you in, wrapping you into his scent as you're pressed against his sturdy chest. Strong arms keep you in place as he tries to make his body become one with your own. 

His face buries itself into the crook of your neck, one hand raising to tie itself in your hair. It forces you to stay in place, stay attached to him just the way he wants you to be. Allows him to inhale, breathing in all of you. Finally delving into the scent that he has been craving.

Your eyes only widen, hands staying firm at your side in shock. Heart beginning to race, head becoming lost in the soaps that only a member of a family could possibly own. 

You’re not sure what to do. How to behave. As far as you are concerned or aware, this is something that no other has had happen before. At least not so openly. Not so brazenly in front of a myriad of other people. 

But, it seems to calm him. To placate him in a way you’re not sure anyone could explain. 

You try to make a small twisting motion with your hand, try to urge everyone else to leave while they have the chance. 

They seem to take it, exiting the room as fast as possible. 

You’re sure word of this will spread throughout the castle quickly. You hope the consequences will not be dire. 

“Prince Kim–” You begin to speak after everyone has cleared out, after he holds you for what feels like a lifetime. You can’t find it in you to want him to pull away, no matter how embarrassing this seems. 

“Shh,” He quickly silences you with a gentle press of his lips to your pulse, “Let me stay like this for a moment.” 

You are unable to move. Unable to breathe after he kisses you. War could begin in that very moment and you’re not sure you would have noticed in the slightest. You are stunned into obeying his whim as he simply inhales and exhales. 

The umber in his voice only comes after a millennia, after his shoulders have completely sagged. After all the tension is removed from his body. 

“You didn’t respond to my letters.” He still doesn’t pull away, his grip on your hair tightening a fraction. 

You pause.

“I…I didn’t know where to send them.” You lie and his hand loosens. The correct answer. 

“My study. Put them under the door to my study.” He instructs like a king would. 

You’re not sure why the tone of his voice sends shocks to your gut. Pooling into something you only find in your dreams.

“But if someone were to see them–” 

“Let them.” Mumbles in your ear to you and you alone, a growl practically spiking through his voice, “I want them to know.” 

Oh. This is new. This is definitely new. This is not the same way you felt with the stable boy years ago. This has become something entirely alienating. A completely different beast. You know that now as his baritone voice sends waves straight through your gut. 

You simply nod in reply, your mouth unwilling to say anything back. The arm around your lower back grows more firm.

“Tell me where you will put your replies.” He commands into your ear. 

“Under the door to your study.” Your reply is automatic, years of answering to the kingdom evident in your tone. 

He sighs, unfurling his fingers from your locks to gently pet the top of your head, “Good girl.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, soft as he touches you.

“Good lamb.”

You sigh, fingers deftly searching through your wardrobe for just a single pair of underwear. But once again, you turn up empty. It seems like every day that passes, another pair disappears without your knowledge. 

Perhaps one of the new girls is causing a fuss, messing up the laundry for everyone else. 

That is the only logical solution, at least. 

But logic doesn’t seem to make much sense at all anymore. You couldn’t hope to understand why few of your other belongings have come up indignant as well. 

Your favourite perfume, one of your stuffed animals, even your toothbrush! All have magically vanished from thin air over the course of the last week. 

It is too bad that you haven’t had the time to think about it, either. Preparations for the ball have been raging throughout the palace. Everyone has been on their toes, unwilling to face the wrath of the planners as they try to make everything perfect. 

You have had not one moment alone to think, either swept up in cleaning, decorating, or well… recently you and the prince have been going on walks through the garden at night. Though that doesn’t matter much. It doesn’t mean anything– just another thing he made you promise to. Claiming he wishes to spend as much time with you as he can. 

His recent fixation is trying to get you to call him by his true name. 

You would never dare, nothing is more inappropriate than such a title. It is something only his most beloved is meant to call him, and that person is certainly not you.

You try to force any thoughts of him out of your head, though it is clearly a fruitless endeavour. Especially with the dream you had the night prior. 

His hands finding themselves between your legs, touching you in a way no other has. 

You flush, quickly shaking all thoughts of the night away. 

The tea! Your tea, yes. A prescription from the doctor for this very thing.

More often than not, you wake to find a mess between your thighs. Sticky arousal between them in a perverse fashion. The region sensitive and overstimulated combined with a mess of dreams. More sexual in nature than ever before.

Embarrassed, you had turned to the only person you could trust. The palace staff’s doctor. 

She had told you it was normal– that you were simply having what she described as ‘wet-dreams’. The title alone made you feel embarrassed.

Nevertheless, she prescribed you a tea to help calm your nerves. It was meant to be passifying in nature, calming any lush desires you may have beginning to form. 

You were not sure how it functioned, however you trusted her. Found that it quelled whatever fire burned inside of your heart for the time being. 

Perhaps just a new oddity to add to your reality, you suppose. 

Finally, you find a proper set of undergarments to pull over your legs. Letting out a breath in relief now that you finally have them. 

Today is going to be busier than the last month combined– the ball is tonight. You know for a fact you will be rushed around the palace all day, fixing everything into an acute sense of perfection that only the Kim family is known for. 

You reach to spray your second favourite  perfume across your skin, only to find that the bottle has gone missing as well.

Your hairs stand on edge, a dark pit forming in your stomach.

It is all too strange for you to want to understand. 

Okay, now you’re sure Annabell must be wrong. She has to be, right? There is no other conclusion possible. 

The thoughts run through your head as you pace the small confines of your room. Thumb between your lips, biting the skin feverishly. Contemplating what it is exactly that you should do. A heavy box sitting on your bed, a letter laying next to it along with a single lily.

A month ago, you met Prince Kim in the gardens. A month ago you spoke to him all night long. A month ago he brought you flowers. He has been leaving you letters ever since. Three weeks ago he held you in his arms, made you promise to write him back. Made you promise to meet him in the gardens as many nights as you can. 

But this, you could not accept. You could not possibly think this is real. Why has he gifted you something like this?

A dress lays on your bed. The most gorgeous dress you have ever seen, in fact. Lined with crystals and gems, many layers of tulle poof from the underskirt. It must’ve cost a fortune, but it was not meant for you.  It is a dress meant for a princess, not a simple maid of the palace. Not… Not someone the prince simply wanted to bed. 

So why did it lie here, along with a lace mask and a pair of shoes. Why did it come with a note from the Prince, telling you to put it on for tonight's events? Is this why the head maid dismissed you so early?

No. You could not. You will not make a fool of yourself. You do not belong up there, dressed as a princess when you are far from the thing. That is your decision. It will be the one you stick to.

Even as hours tick past on the clock, even as you can hear the night in full swing, you stay locked in your room. Feeling the same as you did when you were a girl locked in the dungeon all those years ago. Helpless, indignant, stubborn. 

Lost in your thoughts as you try to piece together a puzzle that has several spaces missing. Feelings for the stable boy– life with him, it would have been easier than this. You’re sure of it. 

You allow yourself to imagine what life could have been like if he stayed. It would have been a cosy, peaceful. A straightforward one that didn’t leave so many questions in your head. Jungkook was always like that, spoke his mind without leaving anything to be guessed. You adored it, wished you could revel in it now. Wish you could kiss him under the cherry tree once more.

A pounding wakes you from the dream you were just beginning to weave. Loud, angry knuckles against the firm oak of your door startling you to your feet in an instant. Chills running down your spine as if your body already knew who was behind it. 

You wait too long to reply, another series of rapts following in quick succession. You’re in trouble. You’ve angered the prince in a way you’re not sure you’ll be able to find your way out of, but you have no choice. He knows your inside. You know you must face him. You must be brave.

Right before another series of knocks can echo against the walls, you finally pull the door open. 

There stands the man you knew would be there all along, sculpted like the lord had made him himself. You wish you could behold him properly, to stare at his beauty in the suit specially prepared for this night. One he asked your opinion of several times during its construction.

But you are unable to, not when his shoulders heave like a bull planning its charge. Not when his eyes are narrowed into a glare that enters your soul without consequence. Never before had you felt his anger directed at you. 

The future king would be a fearsome thing. 

“It appears you are not dead.” He states, cold and detached in a way you have never heard before. It makes you feel small, feel weak. Though by now, you know he wants an answer. He will not accept the lack of one from you anymore. 

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, “I suppose not…” 

“Then what do you suppose.” You flinch. You’re not sure.

“I– Prince Kim…” 

“Taehyung.” He interjects, though you ignore him. Only his future wife is meant to call him by that name.

“Prince Kim, I could not possibly accept this gift. You have to understand.” The way he looks at you makes you want to shrink. To appear as small as possible to placate the lion you’ve wondered into the den of. 

“I do not. You are to accept any gift I am to give you.” He is stern as if lecturing the ground beneath him. He looks massive in your tiny room, taking up much more space than you wish to grant him.

You begin to grow frustrated, annoyed. Does he have no sanity? Does he really think it is okay to play with the hearts of women so carelessly? It is disgusting. Repulsive even! You do not deserve anything like this. You begin to grow tense, grow firm like a wolf cornered. Ready to lash out with no remorse. 

That is what you are, anyway. A cornered animal with no hope to escape. 

“I won’t.” You raise your shoulders, stand taller and stare him straight in the eyes. If this will have you sent to the axe then so be it. 

He grows just as tense in reply, his lips forming a sneer as he takes a step closer towards you. 

Never before has Prince Kim been opposed like this before, you’re sure of it. The way his irises become darker is proof. 

“And why is that, lamb?” He mocks, and the fire inside of you only begins to glow brighter Of course, you’re just the lamb that's wandered into the lion's den. The lamb being prepared for meal. 

Steam clouds around your head, jaw becoming tense as you try to hold back your rage. Rage for your mother, rage for the life she was taunted into the same way the prince is trying to do to you now.

“I will not become another woman you bed and then lay waste to!” You practically shout, unable to hold back your emotions anymore. 

His nostrils flare, “Excuse me?” 

“You heard my words.” You state back, indignant, “I will not be an idiot. I will not become another woman who you use for your own pleasures!”

You hear him scoff, head turning away from you for the first time as he looks around your room. 

“You think that little of me?” His eyes make their way back to you, his face having the expression of somewhat… hurt? 

Suddenly, you’re unsure. You feel stupid all over again though you’re not entirely conscious as to why. You hurt him? How could you possibly hurt the most powerful person in the country? 

You falter in your stance, and it is obvious that he takes notice. Uses it to his advantage as he takes another step closer, makes his hand find your own. His thumb brushing soothingly over the knuckle. His hands are always so soft. 

“What else am I meant to think? I’ve heard the stories, Prince Kim.” Where once was fire lays blistering coals. Hot to the touch yet unyielding in their passion. The air in the room has changed in much the same way.

“Tell me of them.” He asks you, his voice now gentle, soft. 

It is strange, the complete change he’s had since first entering your room. Has your brain going a little haywire. Especially with the way he stares at your hands. Like they could be locked forever. 

“I…” You feel flush, embarrassed to mutter the words in front of the prince, “I’ve heard you seduce women… princesses, noblemen’s daughters, maids… the lot. Then you abandon them the next morning with your seed in their core and a knife in their heart.” 

You keep your eyes to your feet, face feeling hot by repeating the words of your friend. You refuse to look at him, you cannot take the embarrassment. 

A light chuckle leaves his lips, a hand coming up to attempt to muffle them, “Sorry, sorry.” He shakes his head, a playful glint in his eyes. You’re baring your soul to him! How dare he laugh! 

He coughs to muffle the rest of the sound, returning to the moment, “I apologise. I just had the realisation. You’re jealous of them, aren’t you lamb?” 

A mess of flutters takes up your stomach, your shoulders raising in alarm. Your lips open to try and form words, to try and deny the allegations made your way, yet you are entirely unable. 

Especially with the way he moves closer, crowds your space with such ease. Leads close to you, whispers words in your ear, voice lower than before. 

“You wish it to just be you I lay with, is that so?” You can practically hear the smile in his voice as another, more erotic chill finds its way down your spine. 

“Th-That isn’t–” You try to speak, but your voice sounds as light as air. He moves closer, arm carrying itself around your back, pulling you flush against him as he speaks sinful words. Words only for you. 

“Ah…” He sighs in relief, lips practically touching your ear once you’re finally connected to him, “You don’t like it when I go fuck your friends then come to spend my nights talking to you… writing to you… touching myself to the thought of you.” 

You cannot take it. You cannot take this, take him. Your head is spinning, clouding with the drug known as Prince Kim. Your knees feel weak, your limbs feel all too heavy. How can someone so pretty say such sinful words without a second thought. It’s too much. Far more than your poor little heart can take.

Your arms come up, press as firm as they can against his chest despite how weak they feel.

“Mmm…?” He asks in response, pulling back to look down on your face. Mock confusion spread across his features. He takes a step back, pretending to look you up and down. Like he is just playing a game of poker while all of your tells are as clear as day. 

“Or is that not what you wish?” He asks, head tilted to the side like a confused puppy, “You would like things to remain the same?” He smiles, drawing conclusions all on his own. 

He pauses, waits for you to say something, anything before continuing. But you do not, so he will keep playing this game by himself. 

“Then I shall go find someone to keep me company for the night. Mmm..” He taps his chin in contemplation, turning on his heels, meanwhile panic and dread fills every facet of your being, “What were those ones you’re friends with again? Celley? That pretty blonde? Oh, or maybe Annabell. I’m sure she would be prepared to go for a second round.” 

What? What? No, No! What is he talking about? Why is he starting to walk away?! Wait, Annabell, second time?! She has before?! 

Oh heavens, oh gods. 

“Anyway, I'll be sure to write to you after. Have a good night, dream of me.” You begin to hyperventilate as he takes one step out the door. No, he can’t leave. You don’t want him to. You don’t want him to be with anybody else. You can’t let it happen. You can’t afford such a thing! Ever! That is not where he is meant to be! 

Your body carries you before your mind does. Hand slipping out, gripping onto the back of his coat with all of the strength you can muster. Feet planted firm in your room, doing everything in your power to not let him leave.  

It is really too bad you do not see the sick smile that forms on his lips. Maybe then the pieces of the puzzle would have finally clicked in place. 

Instead he only tilts his head backwards, painting a complexion of boredom.

“N-No! I don’t want that!” You finally manage to stutter out, knuckles turning white with the strength you hold onto him. Afraid if you let go in the slightest he will pull away and disappear forever. “I don’t want you to be with other women!”

The silence that follows your confession feels a mile long. 

“Then go put on the dress.” Out of any response there could be, that certainly was not the one you were anticipating. 

“What…?” 

His chin tilts in the direction of it, urging you on, “If that is the truth, then go put on the dress.” 

“I…” You hesitate for only a moment, but scramble to motion once the prince turns to leave once again. 

You make quick paces to your bed, keeping your back to him. You feel his eyes on your back, intent on giving you no privacy to ensure you follow through on his order. 

In fact, all he does is close the door behind you. Making sure no one will be able to see in. No one will be able to watch you save for him. 

You slowly peel off the cotton of your nightgown, trying to appear brave even though his eyes are trained on your form. Even if your slip still remains on, you have never been this uncovered in front of a man before. You feel entirely bare. 

You do not look at him as you finally find your way through the tool, slipping the garment over your head with struggle, yet his face is practically predatory. 

You don’t know his plans, or what he wishes to gain. You never do. 

As the fabric settles over your hips, half of you wants to question how the size is perfect, but you refrain. Too embarrassed by everything else to even consider it an option. Your hands reach behind you to attempt to lace up the back on your own, yet another pair are already present in their place.

When did he get so close? How did he get so close without you hearing a thing? Your heartbeat must be the only sound in your ears, that must be it. 

His fingers work down your spine, tightening the dress so it fits you perfectly. Tying it off with skill you did not know he had. You feel his breath on the back of your neck. A fire begins to grow in your core. 

“I was going to present you to my father tonight.” He admits, placing a gentle kiss to the base of your neck, “The ball was meant to find my bride.” 

“Oh.” Those are the only words you can say when he is so close, arms enclosing around your waist. Pulling your back flush with his chest. 

Only words you can manage at the revelation.

“Imagine his disappointment, more so my own when the girl I had been speaking to him about did not show.” He grunts, almost as if it hurt him. Guiding your body to stand in front of the full mirror in your room. Asking– telling you to look at yourself. 

The sight is strange, yet incredible. The crown prince of the entire nation standing in your bedroom, in the maids quarters. Surrounded by squalor and chaos. Arms wrapped around a maid dressed as if she could be a queen. 

You look up at him to the best of your ability, regret plastered across your features, “Prince Kim–” 

“Taehyung.” 

“--I’m so sorry.” He does not look you in the eyes. They stay trained ahead, not straying once from the mirror. One hand rubbing small circles into the fabric covering your stomach, the other sliding to your waist.

He touches you without care, without reason. Feeling you against him for all that it is worth. 

“Actions have consequences, that is all. They can come later.” He states plainly, “For now I just wish to indulge in you.”

He brings his face down, placing it right next to yours. His hand rises, making your chin face the mirror as well. 

He forces you to make eye contact with him through it, forces you to understand each of his words clearly. 

“You’ll let me do that, won’t you?” 

You take a deep breath, gulping down all the air you can manage. You don’t think you’ve wanted anything more. 

With no more than a nod, his lips are on yours. 

Spinning you around, pressing your back against the mirror. His hands cupping your cheeks with such intensity you fear they may become etched into your skin forever. Keeping your lips closed against his own. 

His body cages you in, pressing entirely against you. Forming against you in perfect harmony, feeling two souls become one. Feeling each other fully for the first time– no pretence or public eye in the way to stop it. 

His teeth nip at your lower lip, biting in a way that has you opening them in pain. He takes the opportunity to lick his way inside, somehow pushing even closer to your body. 

Something hard presses against you and the discovery has your knees wishing to collapse. 

The prince can’t possibly be this big. He simply can’t.

The kiss has you reeling, unsure of anything. Unsure of what to do at all. It is nothing like your first kiss under the cherry tree with Jungkook. That was soft and sweet, docile as two people discover something new.

This, this is nothing of the sort. It is hungry. It is a beast that has been starved, finally getting its first meal. It is intoxicating. It is needy and desperate in a way that has your fingers trying to press themselves even deeper into the glass. It has your breath being robbed. Your lifeforce wilts away to satisfy only the prince. 

The groan he lets out as you finally give into him, finally allow him to take control of the kiss as arousal pools in your gut. It is one of the most deadly siren’s calls you think you’ve ever heard. One that would have any woman throwing themselves overboard for just a taste. 

“Finally,” He grunts, pulling no more than a millilitre away from your lips, wetness still connecting them, “My whole life I’ve been waiting for you.” He mumbles, hungrily connecting his mouth back to your own. 

Before you know it, you’re lost in the man once again. Allowing him to move you, to guide you to your bed without withdrawing from you once. Tangling your fingers into his hair, trying to make sure he doesn’t pull away. Making you drunk off of his taste, off of him. 

When he kisses you like this, you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to live without him. 

Your knees hit the frame of your bed and all of a sudden you're falling backwards onto its plush lining. Panting, trying to regain some of the air he stole from you.

For the first time you’re able to look up at him, to discover the mess that he has become. Cheeks red, lips swollen. Eyes dark and twisted with lust. Hair ruffled messily from where your fingers laid. Shoulders rising and falling with effort as he catches his breath as well. 

He looks gorgeous and you can’t help yourself hoping this will be only a sight for you forever. 

He leans down, pecking your lips once more, “I couldn’t stop myself from imagining this. Since the moment I placed an order for your dress.” 

He huffs, dropping to his knees in front of you. You sit up on your elbows, face twisted into confusion as you look down at him. 

God. It is too dangerous to look at him right now. You know that as another wave of heat runs straight to your core.

“Pushing up the future queen's skirt.” He groans, hands gaining purchase on your hips, pulling you down so your waist sits at the edge of the bed, “Letting myself have a taste of her while everyone else at the party danced.” 

O-Oh. Oh. He sees you as, oh god. 

His fingers bunch in the material of your skirt, drawing in a shaky inhale as he holds onto any drop of sanity left. 

When he sees no hesitation from you, he slowly begins to push the material up your legs. Eyes trained on your own, looking to you for any sign of discomfort. 

“Have her come undone on my tongue while no else was the wiser.” He groans as he finally comes face to face with your panty covered core. 

Your brain moves at a snail's pace, trying to keep up with every tiny movement the prince makes. Trying to process his words while your head becomes fuzzy with your own arousal. 

You feel like mush, so pliable in his grip.

His large hands slowly begin to part your thighs, to look at what he has been craving for so long when your brain catches up with you, embarrassment overcoming your being. 

“Y-You can’t! I-it is dirty to do such a thing.” At least, that is what you had been taught. Though, the look in his eyes and the growl from his throat tells you the opposite.

“You could never be dirty. No part of you could ever be.” The sound he lets out is more akin to an animal than anything else, and suddenly you feel like a schoolgirl. Flustered and embarrassed beyond anything else. 

The muscles of your thighs untense, the look on your face blushed and biting. 

“You will let me?” He asks again, and despite your embarrassment, you nod. He is going to be king… his word is rule afterall. He wishes it, so it will happen. You could not be more pleased to oblige. 

His grip on your thighs is more firm than before, blunt nails digging into soft flesh as he pries your legs apart. He lets a groan resonate from the back of his throat at the sight. Panties sticking to your center, wetness pooling just behind causing the material to almost become transparent before him. 

You did not know it was possible for a man to have such an effect on you. 

Without a second thought, he pushes the material down your thighs. His tongue licking a long stripe up your cunt, savouring the flavour for every cent it is worth. 

He moans at the taste, not wasting a second before he dives back in. Lapping against you like it is his last meal. 

A mewl leaves your lips, too many feelings crossing you at once for any of them to be worth anything. 

Embarrassment, shame, fear all vanish the moment his lips wrap around your clit, sucking against the small bundle of nerves in a manner that has your back arching against the bed. Fingertips digging into the sheets to find a second lease on life. 

You try to look down at him, to find him between all of your small pants of pleasure, however he is gone. Disappearing until the layers of fabric while he brings you sensations you never thought were possible. 

His tongue moves like it is made to pleasure only you. Taking turns flicking your clit to lowering into your center. Licking up any bit of arousal he can make out. Trailing up once again to press flat against the bundle of nerves.

All of it has your legs kicking, your breath melting. 

He is not quiet either, letting you know exactly how much he adores this. Adores the feeling of your thighs wrapped tight around his head. Adores every little sound and reaction you have to give him. Adores the taste of you on his tongue. It was only meant for him.

It feels like he has been wishing to do this far longer than you would ever know. Consuming you whole from the inside out. Causing you to become addicted, to desire him just as much as he carnally craves you.

His nails dig into the flesh of your thighs as your hips begin to rock against his face, seeking out every ounce of pleasure that he is willing to give you. Your adorable mewls and whines grow louder, peaking every time he sucks on your clit. 

A coil has begun to form in your gut, feeling as though it could snap at any second. You wish you could see him, to look at his face and see the crazed gleam in his eyes. Observe the exact look on his face as he licks your cunt. 

You try to picture it. Try to imagine the way he would look up at you from between your legs. The dark umber his eyes would become, the gentle circles he would rub into your thigh as you finally make eye contact. 

Your walls clench around his tongue, sending a new waves of whines out of your mouth. He somehow moves faster, more precisely with every movement. Like he is able to hone in on the exact things that have your thighs quivering. 

His tongue moves up, takes your small, worn clit into his mouth. Alternating between sucking against it, flicking at it, and pressing against it firm with the flat of his tongue. 

Without warning, nor any reprise, one of his thick fingers is thrust into your wet heat. Filling you in a way you have never been able to do to yourself. Stretching you. And all of a sudden, you’re flying off the edge of a precipice.

“Prince Kim!” Your back arches off of the bed, head thrown back against the mattress as you let out a moan. Your hips jolt, cunt squeezing around his fingers, heels digging into the floor as you come undone before him. 

He works you through it with ease and grace, finger slowly thrusting in and out. Tongue firmly planted against your clit to ride you through your high. 

It would not be your last of the night. He must be gentle. 

Slowly, you relax against the bed, chest heaving from exertion. He pulls away from you, standing to full height before leaning over your shaking form. 

Your arousal coats his face, a sheen from his lips and chin evident against the soft yellow glow of the room. He looks down at you, concern and adoration written across his features. Though in his eyes, it appears that the beast has yet to be quelled. 

He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. You taste yourself against them. 

“You are delicious. I wish to eat you every night until I die.” He mumbles against your lips, his knee sliding between your legs. Muscle pressing against your swollen cunt. 

You try to flinch away, yet the hand on your hip keeps you in place. 

He will not have you running away. 

Not now. 

Your cheeks flush at his words, wide eyes looking up at him like he is all that matters. 

He is. 

He presses his knee further against your pussy while his lips trail down the column of your neck. Urging you towards the headboard with no words spoken until your head is against the pillows. 

Your arms wind their way around his neck, keeping him in place, “I-if we were married, I would let you.” You manage to speak, your voice shaky.

He only smiles in reply. Fingers digging deeper into your waist as if he is holding himself back.

“Then we shall call this practice for our wedding night.” He smiles, sitting back on his heels. 

Marriage, wedding night. You allow the thought to ghost through your mind, willing it to be reality. 

He smiles down at you, taking note in the way you seem to gleam at the idea. A small chuckle leaves his lips, you really are too cute for your own good. 

His voice is no more than a whisper, forcing you to stay enrapt, “You will let me, right?” He asks, eyes glancing down to where his pants strain against his hips, “I wish to make love to my future wife.”

Your mouth practically waters at the sight, his hard cock pressed taught against the expensive material. You swear there may even be a wet spot where his cum has leaked through. 

Your pussy clenches, wanting nothing more for him to find his way inside. For him to claim you for himself. Destroy you so no other man can have you in the same way.

You struggle against yourself for no more than a moment, but the way his hand reaches down, grips at his cock. Brushes his thumb over the surface has you moaning in want. 

“Please.” 

He smiles, the motion following swift. All at once his hands unbutton his pants, pushing the material down his thighs just enough for his cock to spring free. He groans at the feeling, thick length hitting his stomach. Pretty pre-cum dripping down the side.

Your eyes go wide. If you imagined him to be large before, seeing it now looked impossible. He is thick, long. Far too big to ever hope to fit inside of you. 

But the desperate groan in his voice, the hungry look in his eyes only has you spreading your legs. Wishing nothing more than for him to destroy you.

One hand wraps around the base as he moves closer, the other forcing the skirt of your dress as high as it will allow. He makes space for himself in between your thighs, slotting himself in. Ready to do what he has been waiting years for. 

Not yet.

He sees the hesitation in your eyes, the worry. So he leans down, planting a gentle, soothing kiss to your lips. One filled with years of time behind it. 

He knows he must be careful with you. Knows all of his patience will have been worth it when he is finally able to take your virginity. 

“Will it hurt?” You as quietly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep him close. You find comfort in him. Find a sense of safety within his eyes. 

He nods in response, “Only for a little while, I promise.” He mumbles against your lips, placing a soft kiss against them once more. 

He slowly rubs the fat head between your folds, coating himself in your arousal. Your hips buck slightly in response, and he can’t help but smirk. 

So sensitive. So ready for him. 

As much as he wants to be rough, he can’t. He can’t scare you away just yet. 

He looks into your eyes once more, “Ready?” He asks, giving you one final chance to back out. You only nod your head, pulling him close, hiding your face in his neck. 

His head catches on your opening with the final drag of his length through your lips. His hands practically shake in excitement, as he guides himself inside. Letting go only once the tip is buried within your walls. 

He feels your teeth sink into his coat, your body burning with the stretch of him. He only has the first inch inside, yet you think it is more than you could possibly take. 

A choked cry leaves your lips as he continues to slowly thrust inside. Your arms cling to him as tight as possible. Tears prick in the corner of your eyes as he fills you, forming your entire body just around him. Just around his cock. 

He pauses only once half of his cock is buried in your needy cunt. You feel his hand come up to caress your cheek, to bring you back down to reality from the pain you feel digging at your core. Trying to bring you some sense of comfort. 

You pull back from his shoulder to look him in the eyes, expecting to see them soft. Filled with concern. Though there is nothing of the sort there. 

Behind his bangs is only the look of pure insanity. 

Though he tries to be compassionate, he really does.

“Are you doing okay?” His voice is strangled, coming out in only desperate cracks. He shakes, wanting nothing more than to fuck himself inside. Fuck himself deeper and deeper, until your cunt is shaped for his cock alone.

But he holds restraint. Just enough.

The way he looks at you, the way he speaks has a wave of pleasure rushing through your  skin. Your walls clamp around him, tightening even more. 

He is falling apart before you, because of you. 

He has gone mad because of you.

The feeling only makes you want to urge him on. See just how far the prince can fall.

You nod your head, looking at him with all the affections in the world, “Don’t stop.” 

He groans at your words, mind losing itself as he snaps his hips forward, forcing his cock inside until his hips are firm against your own. Teeth digging into the fragile skin of your neck.

You cry out in pain, your walls squeezing around him in shock. Pain coursing through your entire system as you are filled to the brim. Walls stretched as wide as humanly possible. The head of cock so deep inside you swear you can feel it in your lungs. 

“Shit.” He groans, mouth falling open, “This pretty thing is wrapped around me so tight, lamb. So fucking tight I can’t think.” 

He slowly tries to move his hips, though you only shout in response. Your legs wrap around his back, doing their utmost to keep him in place.

“Hurts!” You whine, shaking your head quickly. 

Fucking hell. What is the point of a pussy as sweet as your own if he can’t use it properly?

His hand moves between your legs, growl of impatience slipping past his lips as his fingers find your clit. They work with urgency, with need. Rubbing tight circles into it, trying to get you to feel the same pleasure he does.

You whine, overstimulated. Shots fired in all directions leaving you messy and confused. 

With every circle, a mewl sounds from your throat. Slowly your legs behind him loosen, the pain from before mixing with pleasure to become something wonderful. Something that has you whimpering for him to not stop. 

“See?” He grunts, slowly slipping out of your heat until only the tip remains, “We were made for each other.” 

He forces his cock back inside, fucking you open just for him. Only ever for him. 

Your nails dig into his back, heels digging into the mattress as you moan for him. As your cunt becomes addicted to the feeling of him filling you so perfectly. Addicted to everything he has to offer.

He moves too fast, too hard for you to even hope to keep up with. Hips pistoning into you, forcing you to take everything he has to give and more. Forcing you to be the perfect little doll for him, give him all the pleasure he can want and more. White mixing with red around the base of his cock.

Your back arches off the mattress to try and get closer to him, to try and keep up with him in any hope of the sentiment. Hips trying their best to keep him as close and as deep as possible, knowing they crave one thing and one thing alone.

“Prince Kim!” You moan, yet he growls in response. A sharp slap to your thigh sounds throughout the room as his hips pause, fingers removing themselves from your clit. 

“That isn’t my name to you anymore.” His voice is low, menacing in your ear. One more poke of the bear and you will be punished. “Tae–Hyung.” 

He emphasises the words with a sharp thrust of his hips, one that brushes against the bundle inside of you. One that leaves you crying out for him. Clinging on to him. 

“Say it.” He grunts, animalistic and desperate. Yet you’re too lost in yourself to realise how debauched he’s become. Looking less and less like a man, more like a demon come to lay waste to your soul. 

That is close enough to the truth, anyway.

“Say it until it becomes the only word you know. Every question I ask, every time I fuck myself into this sweet little cunt. Your only reply should be my name.” He grabs your chin, forcing you to stare at him. 

Your fucked out little features as you bob your head in compliance.

“I-I” You swallow, trying to understand his words as he pounds away at your core, “I understand!” 

He smiles, almost proud of the work he has done today.

His hips only move impossibly faster, impossibly harder in a way that has that knot in your gut tightening once more. 

“We’ll start simple then. What is my name?” He asks, angling his hips to press against your sweet spot with ever slight movement. Breathe panting, his mind falling deeper and deeper into the thralls of your body. 

“P-Prin–” You stop yourself, a pinch coming down on your skin, “Taehyung!” 

He groans, almost coming undone as he hears your name fall from your  lips for the very first time. The pretty sound your voice makes with every letter. 

It could be the only thing he hears for the rest of his life.

“Who are you going to marry?” 

You whine, your head thrashing around slightly. He smiles. You must really enjoy the idea of that, huh?

“T-Taehyung!” You manage to stutter out again, feeling your release coming closer and closer as the seconds pass by. 

“Who is the man you have fallen for?” The answer to the question is easy, especially when he is fucking into you like you’re the only woman that matters. Nothing matters except for him. 

“Taehyung!” Your brain is too fuzzy to process anything else. Anything other than the way his cock fills you. Anything other than the one word he told you is your gospel. 

“Who is the boy that kissed you under the cherry tree?” You don’t even know anymore. 

Does any man exist beside Taehyung anyway? You doubt it.

“Taehyung!” He smiles into your neck. 

“Who was the boy that was going to have you killed? That saved your life?” His words don’t process through your ears, yet you know what you are meant to say anyway.

“Taehyung!” He groans, his hips stuttering, losing their pace ever so slightly. 

“Who do you belong to?” 

“Taehyung!” You whine, your thighs shaking. The coil so tight you think you may just die if it doesn’t come undone in this very moment. 

His breath is quiet, only a rough whisper in your ear, “Cum.” 

Just as your king commands, you fall apart around him. White dots in the corner of your eyes as you clamp down around him, your legs pulling him close. A cry of his name leaving your lungs as if it is the very air you breathe. 

You feel him paint the inside of your walls white, his hips stuttering– fucking himself as deep into you as he could possibly manage. If you had any sense left in your little head you would have told him to pull out, yet your brain is so high. Filled with pleasure that only Taehyung can provide. 

Waves of arousal crash around you as he slows his hips, ensuring that you ride out your orgasm to its fullest before pulling away. You wish he could stay buried inside of you, just like that. Yet you doubt that would be very wise. 

“Was that good for you, little lamb?” He asks, slowly helping you into a sit. You’re not sure how to properly answer– mouth feeling dry. Your head has not yet come crashing back down, though that is probably a good thing. 

Facing reality is too scary right now. Especially when Taehyung is so warm. So caring as he removes your dress. Slips your nightgown back over your soiled body. 

“Very…” You nod, unable to take your eyes off of him as he moves around the bed. Tucking himself back into his pants, removing his shirt and dress-coat. Placing them over the back of a chair. Neatly hanging the dress on a hook, taking care that it is not damaged in any way.

Your arms find themselves reaching out to him, trying to pull him closer to you. He smiles once he takes notice.

“Would you like me to stay the night?” It is clear he was already planning on it, but hearing the words make you smile oh-so bright. 

“Yes, please.” You nod quickly, eyes already feeling tired. You did not know how he had so much energy, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Right now he is meant to be in your bed, arms around you. In fact, you become annoyed that he isn’t already. 

“Alright.” He smiles, slipping next to your form. Wrapping his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible.

You feel so safe. So warm with him. So protected that you can’t stop yourself from falling asleep.

“Goodnight my lamb.”

The Kim Empire. 

His home, his family, his livelihood all wrapped up in those three little words.

Yet, the only thoughts that seem to brandish his mind since the young age of 15 are about you. 

When you first stumbled in front of him, carrying a tray of tea. Spilling it all over his shoes. That quick curse that left your lips before looking up at him. The wide, doelike vision you had once recognition had set in. One the realisation of error set into your bones.

He will never forget the way his heart began to race in that very moment. The way he felt a cloth of sickness overcome his whole body at the mere sight of you. Looking so serendipitous below him.

At first he thought it was hate, how silly he had been back then. Ah, the way he sent you to be killed was just funny to him now. He is grateful he talked to his mother before your execution date. Spilling his soul to her, detailing how he could not seem to remove you from his brain.

Ah, he was lucky he managed to get the letter to the executioner in time. What a pity that would be if he couldn’t. Then he wouldn’t have been able to lay next to you now. Wouldn’t be able to play with your hair, caress you like he pleases. 

It is truly too bad that was not his only trial on the road towards you. It was really a pity he had to send Jungkook away. Taehyung quite liked the kid. He was fun to play with and wouldn’t shy away from his games. 

But he just had to try and seduce you. Poor thing. You really were too innocent at the time. More than eager to kiss him for no reason. To give him even a peace of your heart that was meant for Taehyung alone.

He remembers as clear as day, the rage he felt as he watched your soft lips press against another mans. How terribly he wanted to go out and strike Jungkook with a sword. Of course he didn’t though, that would have scared you away. He would have hated that.

He thanks god every day he was really your first kiss, even if you didn’t know it. 

Patiences was the hardest battle of all, and he will admit, he has faltered a few times over the years. Kisses stolen while you sleep, a few of your belongings robbed to keep him satiated. Mayhaps a few trips to your room in the night. 

But who could blame him? He was a man in love. There was nothing that could stop him when he was so hungry for you. 

Ah, and then of course his father. He wanted to separate your love as well. A maid could never possibly be suited to be queen, blah blah. He doesn’t care. And at least that fight allowed him to hug you for the first time. 

God. You felt so perfect in his arms, then and now. You have always been meant for this. Meant for him.

If his father plans to keep standing in the way, he will simply have to remove him from the equation. His bonds to the man are as thick as water. He cares more for you than he possibly could anyone else.

You’ve belonged to him since you were born, anyway. If a maid becomes pregnant while working for the castle, her child becomes property of the state. Of the crown. Of him. 

It only makes sense that you are meant to be with him until death. It is the path lined for you. Your fate since birth. 

He knows it as his delicate fingers trace over the small patches of blood dirtying the sheets. Evidence of the hours before, of your virginity robbed. Of your promises to him.

You are bound to him by blood after all.

© all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.

#taehyung x reader #taehyung smut #bts x reader #bts smut #bts #taehyung #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung x y/n #bts reactions #bts drabble #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts oneshot #taehyung fic #kim taehyung #bangtan #bangtan x reader #bangtan smut #yandere taehyung #yandere bts

[lovifie]

Lift Me Off My Feet

Chapter 7: Price’s Date

Masterlist

Original Thought - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

W: Price x Reader, inaccuracies around gun-related stuff, use of Sir (like a brat), something with cameras.

Not too far away, at the base, a phone rings inside Price's office. His eyebrow furrows for a second at the unknown ringtone, until he remembers is the burner phone he has with only your number on it, the same case for all the 141 task force. An extra security step he is more than willing to take. 

“What’s wrong, love?” He asks, once he picks up the phone, worry clear in his voice. 

“Nothing!” You quickly reassure him. “I was just wondering… are you busy tomorrow?”

Price looks at his agenda, it is filled to the brim with meetings and things to do. “I could move some things, why?”

“I thought you would like to go on a date… with me?”

“Are you… are you asking me out on a date, doll?”

You remain silent for a second. “Maybe… Only if you want…”

“I do!” He quickly says before you can step back. “I just thought it would be me asking you out.”

“So do it.”

Price chuckles, the sound travelling through to your ears making you smile. “Do you wanna go on a date with me tomorrow, sweetheart?”

“Yes.” You quickly answer. “I would like it very much, John.” 

The sound of his name leaving your mouth travelling straight to his dick. “Sounds like a date then, love. I’ll drop by the house tomorrow morning, I’ll tell you then the time, sounds good?”

“Sounds perfect.” You mutter back. “See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow, love.”

After another beat of silence, the beep beep beep indicates one of you hung up. 

Price claps his hands as if his football team just scored a goal before quickly collecting himself and getting back to work wanting to get done as much as possible. 

On the other side of the line, Johnny keeps teasing you about how you looked like a teenager asking his crush out while Simon laughs at the both of you.

“You are just teasing me ‘cause you are jealous you were not the first one.” You say sticking your tongue to him as you sit on Simon’s lap like a kid hiding behind his parent.

Johnny looks at you offended while Simon laughs at him before adding. “She got you there, mate”

“Good morning, lovie.” Price says smiling when you open the door for him in the morning, stepping aside to let him in. “Good morning, John. I’m still having breakfast, want to join me?” You ask smiling.

“I’ll join you to the end of the world, love. Breakfast is just a plus.” He says dropping a kiss to your forehead as he walks in. “I brought you this.” He adds, raising his hand and letting you see the bag he is holding.

“And what is that?” You ask taking the bag from his hand when he lends it to you. You leave it on the table as you fill a second cup with coffee for him, both of you sitting down before you take the bag again to check what's inside. “Oh! This is mine!” You say surprised.

Price smiles back at your surprised expression and says: “We went back to your apartment, picked up everything that we left the last time. It is mostly bathroom stuff, and some clothes we were able to find.” 

“Aw, John… Thank you, really.” You say looking through your stuff, until you come across an unfamiliar red colour. “John?”

“Yes, doll?”

“How many women being followed by terrorists do you know?

“Hm, a couple actually. You are the only one I'm hiding, though.”

“Johnathan!” You exclaim slapping his arms when he laughs. He grabs your hands, kissing your knuckles and keeps your hand on his.

“Keep saying my name and we will not be leaving the house today, love.” He says looking at your eyes with a smirk on his face.

“Another chance, John. How many?” You ask, raising a finger keeping the rest interlocked with his, raising an eyebrow. 

“Only you, love. I promise.” He says smiling softly, no teasing left in his voice. “I bought you that dress, for tonight, you silly girl. You could get me on my knees in your pyjama, but I assumed you would rather wear something fancier.”

“Oh.” You say a little bit embarrassed, but accepting the compliment. “Okay.” 

He chuckles softly at you, drinking his coffee and standing up, he cups your face with both his hands before kissing your lips harshly before pulling away. “I'll pick you up at seven, love. Be ready by then.” 

You nod quickly, he gives you one more kiss and he says goodbye before heading out to work.

You basically start getting ready after lunch, you don't have much to do anyway. So you run yourself a bath, taking your time, not a rush in you. 

It makes you think about how your life was just a couple of days ago, you didn't even have a bathtub and now? Two baths in two days! 

The dress Price brought you fits you like a glove, and you make a mental note to ask about it. Almost your whole back is exposed, the dress almost reaching the floor with the heels on. You choose a red lipstick that luckily matches the red colour of the dress and decide to do your hair up so it doesn't cover your back. 

You look at yourself in the mirror of the bathroom, happy with the result. And if there was any bit of self-doubt left in you, it quickly dissipates the moment you walk into the living room where the other three men are currently at. Laughing when their mouth falls open like in the cartoons.

“Fuckin' hell, bonnie.” Johnny groans looking at you.

“Alright, is she ready?” Price asks entering the flat, a small bouquet of roses in his hand and a suit that could be tailored by how well it fits him. You walk up to him smiling, bending down a bit to smell the flower. “For me?” You ask softly.

He nods, unable to find words to answer and helps you take the bouquet taking care that you won't touch any thorn. Once on your hands, you walk to the kitchen to put them in water. Price looks at you up and down when he sees the dress flow with every movement of your hips. He definitely needs to send a good bottle of wine to Laswell for her help choosing the dress. 

“Ready?” You ask looking at him once you are back and you find him with his eyes still staring at where they were before you entered the kitchen. He quickly looks up at your face and smiles. “And waiting, love. Let's go.” He finally says, lending you his arm which you gladly grab. He turns back to the three massive scary military men in your living room who look like kids who have gotten their desert stolen. “Good night, boys. Be nice, we'll see you tomorrow.” You chuckle blowing them a kiss and getting out first, what you don't see behind your back is the way Price raises his hand with his middle finger out and a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Fuckin' bastard” Soap chuckles once the door closes.

Once on the street, you take a deep breath, savouring finally being out of the house. And Price must take notice because when both of you are sitting in the car (he opened the door for you, of course), he pulls your window down slightly letting the night air hit you. 

“I’m definitely making all of you take me out more often.” You say looking out the window.

“And we will do it gladly, love.” He says resting a hand on your thigh. “You just gotta ask.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” You say smiling resting your hand on top of his. 

The street air flows through the open window taking with it the last worries on your mind, it is easy being with him. With the four of them to be honest.

“Are you hungry, love?” He asks, moving his hand from your thigh to the gearstick to switch gears as he gets closer to the restaurant. 

“I'm starving, Captain.” You say smiling when he side eyes after you talk. Chuckling softly at the double meaning of your words. Once the car is parked, he exits the car to open your door, holding his hand out for you. 

The restaurant must be the fanciest you have ever set foot inside of, as soon as you enter a waiter comes to walk the both of you to your table. The other guests are calmly eating at their table, the decorations of the plans and folding screens making it feel like a separate room for each couple. 

Price pulls your chair back to allow you to sit and then push you closer to the table. A waiter comes after a while to take note, and not much later comes back with a bottle of wine. He pours the glasses and Price and you are left alone.

“Can I ask you something, John?” You ask, resting your hand on top of his, caressing it with your fingertips. He quickly nods, and you add: “How… how did the relationship between the four of you work?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “It's a bit blurry how it started to be completely honest… As a team we expend so much time together, we must trust each other with our lives, and sometimes these things just… happen?” He ask, just to check if you understand. He continues when you nod. “It was not the four of us at first, Soap and Simon were the closest and as far as I know, the ones who did it first. Then Gaz and I were sent on a mission together for a couple of months and it simply happened. Then Gaz and Soap talked about it, they got drunk and did it too. After that, we realised we were not hurting anybody so… we continued.”

“And now there is me…” You add, looking down at his hand. There is an underlying question, about how exactly do you fit in a relationship that seems to have been built around a web of trust and years of knowing each other. And now you appear, and in 48 hours, you are in the centre of it all. 

“And now there is you.” Price answers, interlacing his fingers with yours. “And we are really happy you are, you know that right?” He asks, and he squeezes your hand when you don't answer him. “Look at me, birdie.”

“I'm sorry.” You mutter looking up at him. “I'm sorry, I know we talked about it, but I can't help it, I'm sorry.”

“Hey, hey, hey, easy now, love. Don't apologise.” He says, extending his arm easily reaching the other side of the table to cup your face. “What is it, love?”

“It's just… you are like… bigger than the CIA.” You whisper, unsure of how much you can say. “And it's not only like, the name. The four of you are just… so big, and cool, and handsome, and nice, and kind, and strong, and you can fight, and people respect all of you… and me… I'm a fucking loser.” 

“Now, that's where I'm going to stop you. Because I'm not letting you shit talk about my girl, birdie.” He says, bopping your nose with his finger as he does. “You are not a loser. You are breathtaking, you have a job, you have a house, you have a car, you are smart, you are kind and for god's sake, birdie, you have an entire SAS task force begging you to even look at them. Take pride in that, love.”

“But that's not the same, Price. What if… what if my apartment didn't have the hiding spot on top of the closet?” You ask, and you can see his expression change, disliking to even think of the possibilities. “I would have been at their mercy so fucking easy, you remember how easy it was for Soap and Ghost to pick me up and handcuff me to Gaz. They'll raise their voice at me a bit too much and they'll have me at my knees begging for forgiveness because that's the only thing I know how to do. Fucking useless…”

“And if you knew how to fight back?” He asks, looking directly at your eyes. “Would it help you feel better?”

“I don't want to be even a bigger burden, Price.” You sigh, unconsciously pouting slightly.

“That's not what I asked, birdie. Would it help if you knew how to fight back? How to defend yourself?” He asks, and when you nod, he nods back, thinking to himself. “All right, luckily for you, I know just the Captain to teach you a couple of tricks.” He says, making you smile. At that moment, the food arrives at the table and when the waiter walks back, he says; “So eat up, we have things to do tonight, love.

Dinner turns out to be delicious, nothing that you didn't expect. And after enjoying each other company through it, he pays for the food and walks along you back to the car.

You still don't know what's his plan, and he won't tell you any more information than what he has already. It's not until later, when he is already driving that you start to recognise the road and you ask: “Are we going to the base?”

He nods. “I'm gonna train you. Is as good as any time to start doing it, right?” He asks, smiling at you.

“Is it?” You ask, looking at the clothes the both of you are wearing. “Aren't we dressed a little bit too fancy?”

“Well, you never know when you are going to be attacked, it'll add to the realism.” He answers chuckling, and you look at him with a raised eyebrow before shaking your head and smiling as well. 

Once he parks in the base, he opens your door again and the both of you walk hand in hand to the shooting range. He turns on the lights to illuminate the empty room and walks to one of the cupboards on the side. He opens it, taking a gun, some bullets and a pair of glasses for eye protection from the inside. He puts the glasses on you, smiling for himself and hands you the gun.

You pick it up, a bit surprised by the weight and look up at him. “Straight to shooting? I was expecting maybe some sparring for my first class, John.” 

He chuckles nodding before saying: “I know, but it's really weird to find the shooting range empty. So let's take advantage of it, shall we? First lesson, how to reload the gun.”

He explains to you how to do it, stirring something in you as he uses a different from what you are used to. You assume that's how he talks to his soldier when instructing them, and even though a part of you is curious about what he must sound like when he is pissed at them, you follow the instructions earning yourself a “Good girl” that has you smiling and blushing like an idiot.

He steps behind you, separating your feet with his foot and telling you what's the best position. His chest is pressed to your back and his hands are around your hands. He points to a little relief on the end of the barrel and says: “This is the front sight, and this is the rear sight.” He says pointing to a second one on the back. “Align them, and then you'll know where you are aiming. Once you have done that, take the safety back and pull the trigger. Careful with the recoil, I'll help you with this one.”

You follow his instructions, grabbing the gun with steady hands so it doesn't fly away once you press the trigger and when you can see the target through the align sight, you shoot. Price's hands over yours keep the gun in place, and he looks up to the screen on top of you to see where the bullet hit and he whistles looking back at you. “You hit the target, birdie. Quite impressive, love.”

“Thank you, Sir.” You say and chuckle when he looks at you with a face. “What? You don't like it when I call you sir?”

“You have a gun on your hands, birdie. Behave.” He says sternly but still gently. “Shoot again.”

“Yes, Sir.” You say smiling and going back to aiming the gun. Just when you are about to shoot, Price presses his growing boner against your arse, completely distracting you and sending the bullet out or the target.

“Birdie! That was worse.” Price says behind you, with a fake worrying tone.

“What did you expect?” You exclaim, looking back at him offended.

“Now, now. It's part of the training, love. You need to work through the distractions.” He says chuckling.

“Yeah, I'm sure all of the boys went through it.” You reply.

“Gaz did.” He says simply. “And he didn't complain, so back to work.”

You groan, clearly knowing what he planning on doing and getting ready for the teasing he is about to put you through. You close one eye to be able to focus more clearly, and position the gun to shoot and again, just before you pull the trigger, he rubs against you making you miss the target. He laughs softly behind you and you groan pulling your head back “John!” you whine

“What is it, love?” He asks nonchalantly. “I am not going to learn like this.” You answer looking back at him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He says peppering your exposed shoulder with kisses. “You are right, I’m sorry, birdie, you just make me lose my mind so easily. Get back at it, I’ll try my best to not eat you up for now.”

You shake your head at his dramatism and raise the gun again. Once Price is back in Captain's mood it is fairly easy to get the hang of it, after a while letting you hold the gun on your own, the recoil shaking your whole body the first couple of shots. Not that Price shamelessly ogles your whole body when it jiggled because of the shoot. At the end, and actually fairly soon you get more and more clean shots, getting closer and closer to the bullseye earning yourself a pat on the back by Price. “You’re a natural, birdie. I’ll keep you in mind if we get an opening.” He jokes making you laugh.

“Sure, I’m sure I’ll be at you guys level in a week.” You joke back and then look at him. “You can go back now.”

“Sorry?” He asks raising an eyebrow.

“You know, back to that… distraction training thing.” You say, struggling to keep the eye contact and when he gets what you are talking about he laughs loudly before going back to hugging you from behind. “Does my sweet girl want a bit more extra training?” He says grinding against your arse, his boner more prominent now than on his last try. You nod breathless, unable to speak. “Words, birdie.”

“Yes, Sir”

A groan is everything you hear before he grabs your hips pushing you flush against him. He kisses your neck leaving a wet trail as he goes up to your ear. “Shoot the gun, birdie. Don’t miss.”

You try to focus as hard as you can with his warm mouth against the skin of your neck and his hard dick in between your ass cheeks; when you shoot it goes terribly out of the target and when he realizes a slap lands on your clothed cunt making you shake a whine escaping your mouth. “Again, birdie.”

As you adjust the gun, you feel his hand find its way under your dress beginning to rub your cunt over your underwear. When you are about to shoot, he presses his index finger against your clit making you miss again and another slap land on you, harder with the loss of the dress in the way. “You are getting these underwear ruined, birdie. Such a nasty girl. Try again, and I'll give you something.”

Once again, you raise the gun, closing your eyes for a second when he circles your clit with his fingertips. He gets his hand under your underwear, slipping his finger back and forth from your hole to your clit. You can feel your whole body shake, but somehow your hand remain steady and when you shoot this time you feel his finger enter your cunt forcing you to close your eyes. You leave the gun on the table, not trusting yourself with your eyes closes and whole body shaking again once Price begins to piston his finger in and out of your cunt making you moan his name. 

His other arm finds his way around your neck, pushing you up and keeping you in a headlock only able to moan his name and take his finger in your cunt. “Look at the screen, birdie.” He whispers in your ear, and when you look up you notice the bullet hit straight into the bullseye, a weak smile appearing on your face. 

“Such a good fucking girl, birdie. Shooting so good so soon.” He whispers against your skin as he enters a second finger into you making you whine at the stretch. “Now I need to give you something, right?” He asks and you quickly nod moaning. “How about I give you a good fuck, birdie? Hm? Almost my whole team has already got a taste of fucking your sweet little cunt, and here I am, waiting for you to let me get inside, love. You want that, birdie? Are you gonna let the Captain fuck you stupid, hm?”

You eagerly nod earning a chuckle from him, but his fingers don't stop fucking your cunt the ball of his hand hitting your clit with every thrust sending a shock up your spine. You can only whine and moan at his mercy as you feel your orgasm approach, for a second you fear he might leave you wanting but you quickly realize that he much rather have you crying from overstimulation. You come with a loud moan of his name as you whip your head back on his shoulder unable to stay still as he keeps going not slowing down making your juices lazily drip down his hand.

“Ask for it, birdie. Please, I want to hear you ask for it.” He says, moving the arm from your neck letting you hold yourself up holding onto the table, slowing his fingers but still slowly fucking you.

“Please… Fuck me, please, John.” You half moan, looking back at him from over your shoulder. Price groans letting his forehead rest on your back, laughing to himself. “Birdie, you are going to kill me one of these days.” He says before dropping a kiss to where your exposed back begins and dragging his tongue up to your nape making you whine and arc your back onto him. 

You hear the unmistakable sound of his belt getting undone, and you feel his fingers slip from your cunt only to appear right on your lips. “Taste yourself, birdie. Taste how fucking delicious you are.” You take his finger on your mouth, making him groan as you hear him fist himself; his tip grazing your wet cunt once he moves your underwear to the side. He pushes his finger down on your tongue, forcing you to open your mouth and a loud moan leaves your mouth as his dick enters your pussy stretching you out. 

And then, a series of praises and compliments begin to fall from Price’s mouth as he fucks you that takes your mind to a blissful state where the only thing you can do is moan and take in the love Price is pouring onto you. “My sweet fucking girl… taking my dick so fucking good, the best fucking pussy I have ever had, love. You just fucking ruined me for everyone else, gonna keep you with me forever, hm? You’ll like that, birdie? Keeping you with me forever, and with the boys. Oh, birdie, if you have heard them… fuck… fucking obsessed with you, birdie. Stay with us, birdie. We’ll be good, I promised. We’ll take care of you, of everything you want, everything you need.”

To hear the respectable Captain Price practically whine in your ear, begging you to stay with him has you weak on your knees and you fear you may collapse when the hand on your hips disappear for a moment. It quickly comes back, and the hand inside your mouth goes out grabbing your jaw instead and forcing you to look at the screen, and the sight makes your eyes widen. 

On the screen is the clear image of you getting your gut rearranged by the 141 Captain, being livestream by the security camera of the shooting range. Price goes back to whispering filth in your ear when he feels you clench. “Look how good you fucking look, birdie. Going to fucking steal the footage, watch it every night. How about we let the boys see it, hm? How good you take my cock on this tight fucking pussy, hm? Like a fucking champ.”

You whine clenching again earning a groan from him, unable to peel your eyes away both by his hand and by the hypnotic image on the screen. The mental image of Price or any of the boys pleasuring themselves with the ongoing images has you getting closer and closer to the edge, and Price must be able to tell because he gets a hand down to your clit rubbing quick circles in it making you cum with a loud moan as you clench on him like a vice. He groans behind you, your hands find their way back to the edge of the table when he takes back the hand from your jaw, just to slap your ass making you whine and grabs your hips fucking you hard, the sound of his hips hitting the meat of your ass filling the room. You wouldn't be surprised if you woke up to bruises on your body, Price chasing his own release like a madman moaning your name when he finally reaches it releasing his hot cum inside of you. 

Still buried inside of you, he hugs you from behind his forehead resting on your shoulder, groaning when he feels you clench around him from the aftershock of your orgasm. He raises, grabbing your leg in the process and raising it, leaving you spread-legged directly to the camera. “Show the boys, doll. Did I fuck you nice, birdie?” He asks, and when you nod without talking he gives you a quick thrust with his softening dick making you moan of overstimulation. “Words, birdie.”

“Yes, Sir.” You moan softly, and whine when Price bends down biting the joint of your shoulder and neck hard, possessiveness taking over him and urging him to leave a mark on you as if his cum leaking from your cunt around his dick wasn't enough. “Good fucking girl, birdie. So fucking good.” He says licking the mark of his teeth he just left. He leaves your leg down, dropping kisses around your shoulder before asking: “Can you hold still for a minute, birdie? I’m gonna be back in just a minute, I promise.” You nod, leaning more of your weight onto the table making him chuckle and you hear him walk away. 

Being true to his word, he comes back just a minute later, a pen drive in his hand and two hours' worth of footage deleted from the security system. He lifts you bridal style and he starts to walk to his room, turning the lights off on his way out. 

Once inside his room, he takes your clothes off as well as his own and gets in the shower with him. A warm innocent shower, just him washing the sweat and saliva of your body. Once the both of you are cleaned, he covers you with a towel sitting you on the toilet and uses a wet towel to clean the make-up off your face. The both of you brush your teeth in comfortable silence and then he dries you up. Neither of you bothers to put on any clothes before getting under the cover, the heat of each other body keeping you warm.

Price cups your face, finally kissing you for the first time in the whole night, sealing the deal of all the promises and feelings he professed for you. He lets you readjust your position against him before hugging you and whispers before falling asleep. “Sleep nice, birdie.”

Hii 💗

Hope you liked the first date with the boys, Price won the poll like, with a huge difference 🤣 so I hope I met the expectations.

I already have most of the other dates planned, but let me know if you would like for something to happen hehe.

Thank you so much for the support, make sure to leave a comment if you liked it so I can see, really I love to read the comments so don't be worried about writing.

If you want to be added to the permanent link it is on my masterlist, and I love you guys ❤️❤️❤️

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#call of duty #cod x reader #cod #cod smut #task force 141 #call of duty x reader #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #task force 141 x reader #141 x reader #call of duty smut #poly 141 x reader #john price x reader #john price #captain john price #captain price #captain price x reader #price x reader #captain john price x reader #john price smut #captain price smut #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #price smut #captain john price smut

[nocreativityfornames]

Barbatos and Solomon's first meeting and a theory of mine, aka: what if Solomon summoned Barbatos to save his friend?

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR SWD S3 AND NB S1 AHEAD

Okay, so we've had pieces of info about their first meeting for a while now, but after collecting everything I could on these two to make my recent posts I was able to put them together and here it is.

First, there are the two times the story was briefly told in Obey Me! SWD, this one being from lesson 53-16 when Asmo discusses his first meeting with Solomon and then asks Barbatos about his:

And this next one being from lesson 49-A when Asmo asks about it for the first time and Solomon doesn't want to tell him:

And we learn what happened in the aftermath from Thirteen when she tells us about it in Obey Me! NB lesson 11-10:

So Solomon risked his life to summon Barbatos using an incantation and was left on the brink of death because of it, all because he "desperately needed his powers to control time", and after their interaction and whatever happened there, Barbatos took him to the Fountain of Knowledge and declared him the new protector of it.

By the way, they didn't make a pact during their first meeting but later on instead, or at least that's what I got from Barbatos saying:

I'm saying this because "eventually" is vague enough to be open to interpretation and could mean that they did make a pact during their first meeting and that it only took some bargaining for Barbatos to agree. But the way I saw it was that the pact was made later on.

So, the questions left unanswered from this are:

1 ) What made Solomon want to control time badly enough for him to seriously risk his life for it?

2 ) Did Barbatos help Solomon by using his powers to control time like he wanted him to?

Because it never says that Barbatos agreed to Solomon's "desperate need", and it doesn't say why Solomon was so desperate for it in the first place, only telling us that there was something he wanted enough to risk death for it.

But it does answer WHY later.

At first I thought we didn't have more info on their first meeting, but then I remembered this little moment from Obey Me! NB ( that I added to my post afterward and here's the screenshot from the post because I was too lazy to open the game and go to the lesson again ):

So Solomon almost died summoning Barbatos because he desperately needed his powers to control time after causing serious destruction to the Human World with his...?

Well, maybe, the passage does say that Barbatos appeared before him and not that he was purposely summoned by him, but it could be that the book is just depicting what people at the time thought happened, since it makes it sound like that was their first meeting when Barbatos himself said that Solomon summoning him was how they first met.

Anyway, let's assume I'm right and that's what happened and the reason why Solomon needed Barbatos was to fix the damage he did to the Human World unintentionally.

THE MAIN THEORY: Solomon summoned Barbatos to save his childhood friend's life, who was affected by Solomon's powers going out of control.

This is something that Solomon tells us in Obey Me! NB lesson 14-16, that he had a friend while he was locked up in the basement as a kid. He tells us the story of how they met and says that from then on the friend started visiting him regularly and that they would chat through the bars of the window basement and that's how their interactions went for however long. But then while telling us about them he suddenly stops:

And thus this became my current theory.

Solomon's powers, which have always vastly surpassed your usual human's, start getting out of control and becomes a threat to the world, endangering one of his loved ones ( much like MC's in S2 with Lucifer ). And desperate to save their life and out of what to do, he summons a demon he knows can control time to help him.

Judging by how Solomon struggles to tell the story to MC though, we can assume that it didn't end well.

Maybe Barbatos refused to save his friend/had no way to do it ( he can only travel through timelines and not actually go back and change the one where he is ) and Solomon had to accept the fact that they were dying and say goodbye and this was the moment when he made this promise to them to become a good sorcerer, learn how to control his powers and protect humanity.

Or maybe Barbatos did try to save them/told Solomon how to do it but it ended badly somehow and that's what brings Solomon pain when he tries to talk about it.

#I could've stopped at “maybe he summoned him to fix the damage he did to humanity” but hey-- why not go further? #we'll only know the answer when Solomon or Barbatos finally tell us the complete story #I want nb season 3 to come out so bad #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #omnb #omswd #omswd lesson 53 #omswd lesson 49 #omnb lesson 14 #omnb lesson 16 #thoughts thoughts thoughts! (⁠๑⁠•⁠﹏⁠•⁠) #obey me solomon #obey me barbatos #obey me nightbringer spoilers #obey me #☙ no creativity for names ✾

[tillthelandslide]

Same For You (11): Ego

A/n: Firstly, I need to say a massive thank you to @procrastinatinglikeapro (again) for your help with this chapter, your idea's are gold and I hope you like the way they panned out in this chapter, I love you and am so grateful to have you, honestly you do so much for me and you've done so much for this series that I adore so thankyou thankyou thankyou! You're the best... I hope you all enjoy this chapter! I love it and hope you do to :)

Lastly, this is the last thing I will be posting before I take my break, I'm not sure how long I will be gone but I want you all to know I love you and your support means the world to me, always.

Series Warnings: slow burn romance, eventual smut, age gap, complicated relationship (low-key unhealthy dynamics), eventual love...

Chapter warnings: there's probably some spelling mistakes/grammatical errors, strong language, confusing relationships

Taglist: @scooby-doodoo @thereisaplaceintheheart @theoriginalwhatsername @eaglestar31 @thefrontofmymind @fallingforel @partoftheairforce @procrastinatinglikeapro @poisonmedaddy13 @xthe1975 @all-things-fic @jstbeeingme @rossgirly @juliardk @you-muppet @moodyyyychickx @k4tie75 @friedlandblog @insidemymind19 @zzzhealy @at-her-very-foreign (add yourself using the link in my bio 😊)

Masterlist

(10) Dylan

Her head is pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped gently around her frame, his back aches against the (now) stiff feeling sofa, but he swore to himself he wouldn't move an inch, not wanting to wake her, needing to have her like this, if only for a brief moment.

For a moment he's unaware of his surroundings when he wakes, blinking a few times before he remembers where he is. At the end of her garden, in her home studio, squeezed together on a sofa she has in the room, one in which was far too small for them both. She shuffles next to him and he grunts as her arm jabs in in the side.

"Sorry" she mumbles into his chest, he just laughs pulling her tighter into his embrace. In her half asleep state, the thought that this shouldn't be happening doesn't creep into her mind. The thought that hours after Ross was just in her bedroom, she had fallen asleep in Matty's arms in her studio, completely escapes her.

"Morning love" his morning voice, one in which is gravely and deep, shocks her to the core. But it also soothes her and causes a happy smile to break out across her face.

"Morning" she feels him place a kiss to her forehead, new territory but more than welcomed. Still no sign of "we cants" or even the thought of Ross. She'd feel bad when she realised, that much was certain.

"You're pretty in the morning" she pulls away from his chest, looking at him for the first time that day. His eyes were sleepy and the brown orbs looked lighter in the morning light, he had a small, happy smile resting against his mouth and his eyelashes were curly and messy.

"So are you" she admits and he smiles nuzzling back into her neck. She giggles at the feeling of his stubble scratching her skin, finding his chin and pulling him away from her once more. Her eyes drift over the skin, fingertips following her line of sight, lightly scratching the stubble, making his eyes flutter shut and a content hum fall from his mouth. The noise does something to her and her eyes snap down to his lips for a brief second. She thinks about what it would feel like to have them against her own, whether they'd be soft or chapped, she had a slight inclination that she wouldn't mind either of those options. She wonders whether they'd make her stomach flutter, like Ross' did. She wonders how different they'd feel, whether they'd be gentler, or maybe harsher. She didn't know, and she wouldn't.

"You need to shave" she says and he nods, eyes still shut. When her movements stop his eyes reopen, falling on her mouth, noticing how her bottom lip was tucked in-between her teeth.

Oh he thinks, did she want this too?

He wonders what her lips would taste like, he thinks they'd be sweet, like cherry or strawberry, or maybe like honey or chocolate. He wonders how she'd kiss, would it be confident or unsure? Would it completely disable him, take over his entire being or would it just be like any other kiss? He knew he needed to find out, although he also knew he shouldn't. He just had to.

He moved forward just slightly, one hand taking in her waist. This definitely was not friendly anymore. He knew this shouldn't be happening, he knew his best friend clearly liked her, but he couldn't stop himself, not in that moment.

"Why'd you stop?" He asks. Because of Ross, because I can't like both of you, because we work together, because of Ross, because I like you but like Ross too, because despite how much I want to, I can't have you both she thinks. A pang of guilt hits her when the thoughts flood in, along with the "we cants" that she seemingly forgot about when she awoke.

"Matty...." She warns when he moves forward again, lips centimetres away from hers.

"Yes love?" He asks, eyebrow raising. Please don't stop me he thinks, please let me, just once, we can keep it between us, he thinks. They couldn't, one of them would feel far to guilty and would have to tell Ross. They both could lose her if they did that, and she could lose them. She couldn't imagine anything worse.

"Stop" she says, hand coming up to his shoulder and halting his movements, eyes shutting to avoid him completely, not trusting herself to look at him, worried she'd cave. Matty obviously doesn't know that things had begun progressing with Ross, this was the perfect time to tell him, but she couldn't bring herself to do so.

"Please love... Just one" she knows he's asking to kiss her but she shakes her head.

"We work together Matty... I can't" she says, she doesn't move just yet, his lips still grazing her.

"That doesn't mean you don't want to" he says and she shakes her head and she sighs.

"Don't do that Matty, don't ruin it" she says and he's the one sighing now.

"You've already ruined it" he says and her eyes snap open at that, finding his as she breathes out a sad "Matty..." and then she's standing, moving away from him, pulling at her jumper, trying to cover herself up from his stare.

"I'm sorry that was really dicky of me... I'm sorry" he stands too. Silence falls between them,

"Okay...." He wants to ask what this is then? How come he stayed the night? How come they cuddled until they fell asleep? Friends don't do that.

"I'm sorry Matty... You should go" she says and he nods, standing from his place on the sofa walking over to her and wrapping her up in a quick hug.

"Don't overthink this and let it affect us... It is is what it is" he says with a kiss to her forehead, before he's slipping out the door of the studio. His words send her reeling. What does he mean? Don't overthink this? It was confusing, how could she not?

She didn't understand him, or what he wanted. But she guess she's the exact same.

❀•°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀•

Matty doesn't come to the studio that day, he doesn't text her with an explanation, and neither George nor Ross know the reason for his absence. Ross meets her at a coffee shop near the studio, they sit and talk for a while, tucked away into the corner, they look like a proper couple (although they weren't one): holding hands and kissing and cuddling without fear of people seeing (even though maybe they should have). They walk hand in hand down the street, only dropping the others when they near the studio.

The studio is crowded, far too crowded for her liking, it doesn't matter that they're her band and her friends, she feels claustrophobic and her breath is bated and harsh. Ross notices but doesn't say anything, even when she removes herself from the room. He wants nothing more than to follow her, to hug her until she calmed down, but she made him promise not to do anything that would make their situation obvious.

George searches for her, finding her in a closet somewhere, she's cramped into the small space, she sits with her back against the wall, her legs tucked up with her head placed on her knees.

He can tell she's trying to control her breathing, but she's struggling.

"Are you okay love?" He knows the question is redundant given the circumstances but he didn't know what else to say.

"Yeah just give me a moment" she says her voice so hoarse, she doesn't quite sound like her and it panics him. If she was to have a full blown panic attack, what would he do? He didn't know. Could he get Ross or would that panic her more? Could he call Matty? No, he doesn't think he should, he has a slight feeling this was because of him. A hunch.

"Is there anything I can do?" He asks and she finally looks up at him, her pupils are blown wide, and her eyes glisten, tears threatening to fall. She shakes her head but then her face contorts and her eyebrows raise as if she's had an idea.

"Just... Talk to me?" She asks. George hesitates but his back finds the wall and he slides down against it, crossing his legs given his height, he barely fit.

"Think the tracks so far sound really good, the band seem to love it and-" he's interrupted by her words, breathless ones "not about work" he nods and thinks for a moment.

"You know this morning when I was coming to the studio I saw this dog running about, it was cute, but in an ugly kind of way... I tried looking for it's owner but I couldn't so I just picked it up and started walking towards where it came from, hoping I'd cross paths with it's owner" he begins telling the story and she listens intently, distracted and so her breathing slows, almost returning to normal. Her rapid heartbeat slowly returning to a gentle pitter-patter.

"Eventually came across this man who shouted at me for supposedly 'stealing' his dog... I explained that I found it and was looking to return it to its owner.... He was having none of it. You know how people say dogs look like their owners? Well in that moment I completely understood what they mean" he explains and she finds herself laughing softly.

There is silence for a few moments and then she sighs.

"Thanks G, sorry about that" she says, smiling at him but a little awkwardly as if she felt bad for him, having to deal with her when she's like that.

"It's alright... Does that happen a lot?" He asks, not to intrude but just so he could prepare himself.

"Umm... Used to happen a lot more. Not so much anymore" she says and he nods.

"Do you mind me asking what caused it? Don't have to tell me obviously... Just know I'm here for you" he says and she nods, smiling. George had been somewhat of a saving grace recently, giving her advice and becoming the type of friend you know you could always rely on.

"G I might've messed up something really good... I might've put myself into a really difficult situation and I don't know how to sort it out" she admits and he nods. He doesn't delve any deeper than that, not really needing to. From what Matty had said about her, it was clear he fancied her and George already knew Ross was infatuated, it was obvious she was in a sticky situation.

"I'm sure you haven't messed anything up... How about, you just talk to them?" He says, she's surprised he knows what she was talking about without her having to say very much. But she couldn't help but wonder whether it was that obvious.

"Mattys ignoring me...." She says.

"Ignore him back..." Her eyebrows raise at that "I know he's my best friend and all... But that man hates it when he doesn't get what he wants... He'll come running back in no time... Besides, he cares about you too much" George says and she nods.

"Can I tell you something?" she asks and he nods. She suddenly knows she doesn't need to ask him not to tell anyone else. He was loyal and he wouldn't do that.

"I think... I like them both and I'm worried I'm going to fuck it all up and lose them both. I think I'm making a big mistake G... Should I just shut it down? Stop it once and for all... Before things get too out of hand" she asks and he sighs.

"I think... There's no harm in seeing how things go... You've just got to be honest with them... you might be surprised, but I don't want to see anyone getting hurt though, so if you think that's going to happen... Then maybe it would be best to shut it down" it wasn't exactly the answer she was hoping for, but she knew it was the right one. She wonders what he means but being surprised, but she doesn't have the energy to ask.

"Yeah..." She picks at her nail varnish, George reaches forward and grasps her hand gently, halting the attack.

"I don't think you'll ever lose either of them though... truly... I've known both of them practically my whole life and I've never seen either of them care for someone so much" George admits and she can't help but smile.

"I don't understand why though... I'm nothing special" George shakes his head at that.

"Listen... Maybe they see you through rose-tinted glasses, just a little bit. But I don't... And you're amazing Y/n. Charli thinks so too... You're good for them, that much is clear..." He says and she smiles again.

"Let's go back out yeah?" He asks and she nods, he helps her stand and they share a quick hug where she mumbles a thank you.

He speaks once last time "that includes you, you know... don't want to see you get hurt either" before they're joining the rest of the group again.

❀•°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀•°❀°•❀

It had been four days since she had told George about Matty, they had three studio sessions since then, each missing a certain curly haired singer. It had been four days since she had told Matty about her brother, four days since she woke up in his arms, four days since he wanted to kiss her but she stopped him, four days since he told her "not to overthink this" and then proceeded to ignore her.

He hadn't called her once, no late night or early morning phone calls where he spoke about anything that was going through his chaotic mind. She had opened up about something that was once so painful to her, something so very personal. She was vulnerable with him and he was sweet, they cuddled and it was intimate, exactly what she needed. But now, now she was unsure how to feel. He was making things hard, avoiding studio sessions, ignoring all her attempts to reach out, which reduced with time, she too could play his petty game.

She knows George can tell its bothering her, she's snappy in the studio, annoyed when things aren't working out or she can't get something to sound the way she wanted. She was struggling but most of all, she felt like she was wasting everyone's time.

The evenings and nights were better than the days, wrapped up in Ross' arms, her collection of his jumpers expanding as the days passed. Their lips had become well acquainted and she and he began sharing things only meant to bring each other closer. It was hard to keep her eyes off him in the studio, hard to ignore the way he (or George) smirked when she was caught. She was like a moth to a flame. He was magnetic, truly addictive. Things hadn't progressed passed heavy petting and needy kisses, much to either of their dismay.

Suddenly, Matty's there again, walking around the studio like he owns the place (did he? she didn't know), ego taking up far too much space. Frowning at the fact she's wearing a jumper that is so clearly not hers (Ross') as if he has any right to be pouting at her like that.

They're working on a track they had been brainstorming for the past five days, George, Ross and Y/n (and her band) had got it to a point where each of them were happy with it. But suddenly Matty is in the picture and wants to change it.

He's made George play the track 5 times now, pacing back and forth every time, grumbling words that no one can make out, finger resting against his lip as he thought. She rolls her eyes at him, although he doesn't see, she wish he would. Just to piss him off.

"What is it Matty?" she says, trying her hardest not to come across annoyed, her voice is clipped and it has his eyes finally snapping to her. He looked tired, had he not been sleeping? She pushes the thought away, reminding herself that she was annoyed.

"It's not enough" George and Ross furrow their eyebrows at the man, as if to say "what?".

"It needs more" his arms raise to the ceiling, as if to levitate the music and she finally snaps.

"What the fuck is 'more' Matty?" she asks, all three men look at her, Ross sits with his eyebrows raised, never in the whole month (and a bit) of knowing her, had he heard her sound like that. George sits with a smirk against his mouth, thankful that someone was standing up to Matty, because usually, it would be him. Her band, all of whom are scattered about the room, almost flinch at her words, knowing when this Y/n came out, it was not a good sign.

They're all tired, having (save for Matty) spent practically every hour for the past 5 days in the studio working their hardest to get these tracks right. It's so uncharacteristically like her, her own band are wary of what's about to happen, anxiously waiting another word from either of the pair.

"I dont know... feels kind of empty" his eyes snap to hers, and he raises his eyebrows, using her own words against her is a low blow, even for him. She raises from her chair, almost in slow motion, there is a few moments where everyone in the room think she might hit him. George squares his shoulders and his palms find the edge of his chair, ready to push himself up if needed.

Ross mirrors her actions, standing too, ready to stop her if he needed.

"You're the biggest cunt going Healy" her words are loaded and they cut him, deep. He was used to hearing things like that coming from other peoples mouths, but never had he ever expected that to come from her. He supposes he deserves it. In fact he knows he does.

He knows he's taken it too far and the guilt he feels is enough for him to slink back into an unoccupied chair, mumbling a brief "fuck off" to Ross and George who stare him down. He was hurt, only putting distance between them to protect his own feelings. She hadn't told him whether things with Ross had progressed, but deep down he knew she didn't need to. Something had shifted, and although he was unsure as to why that was or what had happened to cause it, it was obvious something was happening between her and his best friend.

If she had to pick between himself and Ross he was going to take the choice away. Why should she get the chance to break his heart first? He realises it's a bit late for that now, because when his eyes finally snap up to find her watery ones staring back at him, his heart splinters, shattering into a million pieces, as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to glass. He only had himself to blame this time.

"Y/n..." he stands but she's gone before she can stop him. He tries to follow her but a hand on his shoulder stops him. He was half expecting it to be Ross or George but when her drummer is inching over him, looking as if he was going to smash his fist to his face, he halts.

"I wouldn't follow her if I were you... not if you want that pretty face of yours to stay intact" Jays words aren't violent or threatening, he wasn't insinuating that he would be the one to hurt him, he was saying it would be her.

"I've got this" he hears Ross say and Matty can't help but roll his eyes. Of course you do, he thinks. Ross finds her outside the studio sitting against the cold concrete floor, her back against the wall, smoking a joint... well that's new, he thinks.

"Sorry you had to see that... he just had no right saying shit like that... he's ignored me for 5 days and then he's suddenly there with that huge fucking ego of his, thinking he can just change a track he has not helped with whatsoever" her words come out rushed and by the time she's finished talking she's breathless, her chest is heaving. He's slid down the wall too, one thigh pressed against hers, no space between them. She leans on his shoulder as she threads the end of the blunt through her lips, taking a large inhale of weed.

"Don't apologise... he can be a real dick sometimes" Ross says, eyes flicking towards her hand that holds the blunt.

"Sorry if I'm ruining all of your expectations of me" she says, referring to her use of the vile world and her smoking weed.

"Don't. Don't do that..." he says, shaking his head, she raises her eyebrows at him, asking what he means.

"You're only human Y/n..." his hand finds hers and he silently takes the spliff, she chuckles as he inhales before he hands it back to her.

"Truthfully I'm glad you called him a cunt... he needed to be knocked down a peg" Ross says and she can't help but laugh at that.

"i'm sorry he acted that way" Ross says and she sighs, eyes finding his, looping her unoccupied hand into his. He brings their interwoven hands up to his mouth, pressing against her skin gently.

"You must be so tired of apologising for him all the time" Ross just shrugs.

"Kind of comes with the territory... being his best mate for years... think i've had to apologise on behalf of him more times then I can count... You know he doesn't mean it though right?" she nods.

"He just can't deal with the fact he's not getting what he wants" she says and Ross furrows his eyebrows again, unsure what she means. She instantly regrets sparking up the spliff, knowing she became unwavering honest when she smoked weed. It probably had something to do with the fact she was calm, not constantly worried about hurting someone else's feelings.

"He wanted to kiss me..." she admits and Ross's mouth falls open in a little "oh" at the confession. They had spent the past 5 days and nights with each other, shared things that no one else knows, yet this information is new.

"Did you let him?" Ross asks and she shakes her head.

"When did this happen?" she likes that he doesn't sound annoyed at her, he was simply asking to iron out the details.

"After you left the other night... I couldn't sleep because I needed to tell him about Dylan... he came round and I told him... everything" he nods.

"How did he react?"

"Fine... Good. He was really understanding..." she knows if she tells him the rest he'd probably feel a little hurt but she can't stop herself now.

"We ended up falling asleep... nothing happened.. we just cuddled... and we woke the next morning and he tried to kiss me... but I didn't let him" she explains and Ross nods.

"Why?" he asks, wanting to know if the reason had anything to do with him.

"Partly because we work together... mainly because of you" she admits and Ross can't help the huge smile that breaks out across his face. His brain seems to ignore the fact that she didn't once say she didn't want him to kiss her.

"Ross.... I" she goes to say that she does feel something towards Matty but the door behind them opens, revealing Matty himself.

"Mind if I steal her for a second?" Matty says and she turns away from him, her hand falling from Ross' not going unnoticed by the curly haired man standing in the doorway. She inhales more weed, before she's stubbing it out.

"Please" her eyes snap to him and she immediately sees the sincerity and she nods, looking at Ross and nodding, letting him know it was okay.

He stands and Matty takes his place. He leaves them, still happy she didnt kiss Matty because of him.

"I'm really sorry Y/n" he takes her hand in his, she thinks about pulling back but doesn't.

"I dont really know what you want me to say Matty..."

"Say you forgive me" he brings her hand up to his lips, pressing gently against the skin, right where Ross' landed, she immediately pulls away and stands. He looks up at her for a second, before he stands.

"That is not how it works Matty... not how this works" she gestures between them "you cant just ignore me for days after I open up to you about something that was one of the hardest things I've ever been through and then be a dick to me in the studio and then just say 'sorry' and expect me to just forgive you" she argues and he frowns.

"You said you were fine!" she really feels like slapping him then but she refrains.

"Don't be stupid Matty! I still lost my brother and I've dealt with that but I still was vulnerable with you and you completely shut me out!" he knows, he knows no matter how long after someone's death, part of you remains the same, lost and empty without them, no matter if the other parts of you have healed or not. He feels stupid.

"Y/n/n... I'm so sorry... honestly, I'm not just saying that, I really am. I've been an idiot, a selfish one. And I'm genuinely so so sorry" she sees the sincerity in his eyes and it has her own eyes watering.

"Y/n..." he steps towards her and brings her into his embrace, soothing her as she cried.

"I thought you hated me..." she admits and he coos at her, hand soothing down her back, over Ross' jumper. He was so stupid to make this whole situation about that, he was so selfish to make it about him and about Ross, when she was there, bearing her deepest struggles to him.

"I could never hate you and I'm so sorry I ever made you think that" he says, she pulls back slightly and his thumbs find her tear coated cheeks, running along the smooth skin and removing the tears before they fell further.

"You're very pretty when you cry, maybe I should make you cry more often" she doesnt appreciate the joke and shoves him (but only gently), head finding his chest again.

"You're mean" she says and he chuckles, lips finding the top of her head.

"I'm sorry I made it about me" he says into the top of her head, pressing another soothing kiss to her hair.

"Just because I wouldn't kiss you" he doesn't appreciate the joke this time, mumbling a "not fair"

"Bet you would've let Ross kiss you" the comment is uncalled for and she sighs but doesn't budge from his embrace. If only he knew... She suddenly feels awful and she knows what she needs to do...

"Don't do that Matty..." he frowns above her, not that she sees, because when his fingertips find her chin and pull her gently until she's looking at her, she sees a small smile.

"Forget I mentioned it okay?" she nods. She wouldn't forget. She couldn't.

"This has all got a bit out of hand" she laughs and he does too, pulling her into one last hug before letting go.

"Ross is good for you... he deserves you" Matty says and she doesn't know why, but it stumps her.

"Matty... it's... its not like that" liar she thinks. It most definitely was like that. She was wearing his hoodie for Christ sake and she hadn't been able to get him off her mind since that first kiss or since any others shared since.

"Well if it was... you'd have my blessing" she doesn't like that. Not in the slightest. As silly and delusional as it sounded, she wanted him to say it wasn't okay, to demand she picked him instead, maybe that way it would make the decision easier (it wouldn't) .

"Okay...." her voice trails off and she suddenly feels awkward.

Dont lie Matty... he thinks. Tell her it's not okay, tell her that he knew she wanted Ross but tell her that you want her to want you, to need you.

"It really hurt when you threw my own words back at me like that" she says after a moment of silence, she really wants to get away from the topic of Ross and her mind short circuited back to this. He takes her in, her eyes which we're slightly glossy, her bottom lip that rutted out just a little bit, two little dents on her chin from pouting.

He pulls her in quicker than he ever has before. He pushes down all his ego, all the feelings that being rejected conjured up.

"I am so sorry Y/n... I get like that sometimes... I can't promise it won't happen again, I'd love to... But I can't" she wanted to tell him she wouldn't forgive him if he did something like this again, but she knew she would.

"I don't want to hurt you..." His lips are back on her head, she feels warm in his embrace and despite his previous words, she feels safe, like he'd never hurt her, not purposefully anyway.

"So don't" her words are barely there, whispered into his chest, but he hears them. He wishes it was that simple, but he also knew himself, and he knew he couldn't promise that.

"I'll try love... I'll try" she nods.

"Have you been struggling to sleep? You look tired" she says, her hands pushing back his curls slightly. His eyes flutter momentarily before he's staring down at her again. He nods his head.

"Our late night phone calls had become a ritual to be honest... couldn't fall sleep without hearing you on the other side of the phone" he admits and she raises her eyebrows up at him.

"That's your doing Healy" she says.

"I know... wont happen again, trust me" he says and she knows its not true. She knows it most likely will happen again, she's convinced that's their dynamic, she thinks they're almost too similar in some ways. She knew, deep in her soul, that they'd hurt each other in the end, but that they'd also heal each other.

He pulls her into another hug.

"You make it hard to be around you" his confession is sort of backhanded, something that could be taken both ways. Truthfully she doesn't know how to take it. She pulls away from him and frowns up at him.

"What do you mean?" She asks and he sighs deeply, pulling her back once more, not wanting to say any more heart renching admissions to her face.

"It's hard to be around you when I want you like this" he admits. Her stomach flips. Hearing him say she wanted her, it did something to her. Set her alight. She doesn't say anything. And neither does she, for a second.

"Forget I said anything yeah?" Another kiss to her head and then he pulls her back by her chin, only letting her go when she nods.

She wouldn't forget. She couldn't.

"Lets get back yeah?" he asks. She nods. He walks, she follows. Staring at the back of his head, the curls bobbing as he walks up the steps.

What the fuck? she thinks... this whole situation just keeps getting more confusing.

She wants nothing more than to turn him around, say "You cant want to kiss me one minute and then tell me I have your blessing to get with your best friend the next and THEN say you want me", she wants to demand a clear answer. But she doesn't. She returns back to the studio, where everyone watches her intently, half expecting her to snap again. But she doesn't.

And at the end of the session, when the band have slowly filtered out, George has gone home, Matty and Ross walk her home. Together.

(12) June

#the 1975 #ross macdonald #matty healy #same for you the 1975 series #the 1975 fanfic #ross macdonald x oc #matty healy x oc #matty healy x reader #matty healy fan fic #matty healy fanfiction #matty the 1975 #matty #matty healy fic #ross macdonald the 1975 #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald one shot #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fanfiction

[exauhstedsunflower]

I dont even have real thoughts. Just,

When I was 10/11 and forced myself to move on from playing with my Barbie’s because I was exposed to society and growing up and it seemed like something I had to do. Going back for my dolls one day after months deciding I needed to do something I loved only to find out my mom threw them away because I stopped playing with them. Being devastated. This reinforcing that there is something wrong with me because I shouldn’t want to play with dolls anymore anyway. The barbie movie not quite healing that wound but softening the blow when I think about it now.

Getting my nails done in hot pink every time at 12 and then at 13 getting them in blue. Painting my nails pink two weeks ago because I was excited about the barbie move and feeling at peace.

Seeing my best friend since I was 9 in pink for the first time in I cant even remember and us both feeling nostalgic and free and beautiful.

Me being 14 and my brother being 11 and him discovering the patriarchy. Him making sexist jokes. Me screaming at him. My grandmother laughing at us fighting. Me crying about it to this day, even though I’m 22my brother is now 19 and nothing like that anymore. Me seeing myself in Barbie and my brother in ken as they grow apart and then back together. Realizing that even though Ken hurt Barbie, barbie is the one to tell him its ok in the end. Ken not apologizing. Seeing us in them once again and feeling an ache in my chest.

Wanting to watch the scene where Barbie says she doesn’t feel pretty anymore and why she doesn’t feel pretty. Why she doesn’t feel like who she is supposed to be. Her face. My face as I start crying. My heart breaking as I realize that I have felt that, and that if its being portrayed here that it’s a universal experience to have that breakdown, to have a friend say ‘you are beautiful, you are enough. You’re not wrong, the world is.’, to not believe them fully, though you do accept that they’re probably right. The fact that she’s not wearing makeup in that scene. She’s broken down into her barest form, and her barest form is wrecked because the world has fucked her up and made her think she’s not enough.

Barbie panicking as Mattel tries to literally put her in a box. The people that are technically responsible for her, the people who she believes will help her, are not only not who she thought they would be, but they try to put her back in a box. Her not being able to be put back into a box. She knows too much now. She’s seen and felt and thought too much. She can’t be what they want her to be even when they try to force her. Impossible standards not even ending with people you’re meant to trust. Barbie being alone in that moment. Barbie finding a friend who gets it and not being alone anymore. Barbie not realizing that until the friend refuses to let her drown. The friendships that women make under the pressure of the world being something so beautiful and heartbreaking and necessary.

Sasha being exposed to something good and nice in pink for once instead of something hating on whatever the pink thing is and slowly smiling more, becoming herself. How this exposure can help young girls so much. Before this not only hurting herself by distancing herself from her mom and feminism but also hurting other women in the face of the pain society has slowly caused her because she has given up on herself and on society the way society has given up on her and itself.

in the end, Barbie not even advocating for herself even after everything she’s learned about feminism and what the world with do to women who let it swallow them whole. Sasha, who previously was not much of a girls girl, being the one to say “What about Barbie?” Everyone saying “Yeah, actually, what about Barbie?” Because she deserves a happy ending too. Barbie was standing in the back and out of the way not only in this scene but in most of the ending scenes actually, which is a wonderful portrayal of what all of these things that have happened to Barbie can do to a woman, regardless of how strong or empowered she was or may have seemed. Barbie, the main character of the movie, becoming quiet and contemplative and unsure, and relegating herself to the background because of all of this. Barbie being surprised to see people wanting something good for her. Barbie not knowing what she wants. Barbie absolutely knowing what she wants the whole movie but dancing around it because as a woman you are put in a box and you’re not supposed to say what you want. Even as a barbie. (“I have never wanted anything to change!” “I only ever wanted things to stay the same!” “I don’t know what I want anymore.”) but “It takes two to open a portal.” And so many more sly comments about how Barbie caused all this too. Barbie not even being proud of her accomplishments by the ending when they’re in the void. Ruth only figuring out What Barbie wants because of a comment, a self effacing comment. Barbie asking permission to be herself. She’s been affected negatively by the world, and yet is choosing to live in it anyway. As are the women of the world. Barbie didn’t need permission. But she asked anyway, she probably wouldn’t have done it is Ruth said no. If anyone had protested at all. Because as a woman she is self sacrificing and making sure everyone is ok with things before doing it. Ruth not showing Barbie life as a woman in the end, because Barbie already knows what that’s like. She’s not asking to be a woman, she is a woman, she’s asking to be human, for which life is nuanced and beautiful. As is being a woman, though in very different ways.

#Barbie #greta gerwig #Margo robbie #ken #ryan gosling #Barbie movie #I just want to thank all of the people who worked on this personally and sincerely. #I am moved in ways i didn’t think were possible #I feel seen in ways i didn’t know I wanted to be seen. #Thank you so much

[kitsunefaux]

Hey!! Anon cause I'm shy, but I'm a big fan of your writing! Ive left some guest kudos on your fics and am always waiting patiently for the next update! I was wondering if you had any recommendations for fics since you seem like the type to have good taste... I'd love to read more stuff that reminds me of your work!

Hey! Thank you! I definitely do have some recommendations I’d like to share. These are in no particular order.

Ryou-centric (and/or tendershipping)

Corruption by firetrap

After seeing the pharaoh off to the underworld, Ryou comes home to find that his own spirit hadn’t left like he thought.

The Last Puzzle by tenderwulf

11 years after the Ceremonial Duel, Atem and Bakura inexplicably find themselves back in Domino. When they meet their previous hosts, they realize how much things have changed: Yuugi, the now world-renowned King of Games, is going through a marriage crisis, Ryou is struggling to balance studies, work, and his brittle mental health, and Malik... well, Malik is living his best life—and his own yami is nowhere to be seen.

They soon realize they all have to work together in order to solve the mystery of the yamis' return: some to make sure that they stay, and some to make sure that they don't.

Haunted by Ehtar

Ever since receiving a strange artifact from his father, Ryou Bakura’s life has changed. He gains the friends he’s always wanted, and the bullies are disappearing. At night, though, he dreams of the life of a thief in ancient Egypt. A young boy who was the sole survivor of his village’s slaughter, who must turn to thievery and worse in order to survive on his own.

Ryou knows that something is wrong when his friends begin to fall to the same malady as the bullies, that something is wrong with him. It’s not until he makes some new friends in Domino City, including a boy who has an artifact similar to his own, that he realizes he harbors the soul of that thief within himself – that he’s been possessed for years by the spirit of a killer.

He should rid himself of the evil spirit, save himself and those around him. The only trouble is, now he doesn’t know where one of their souls begins and the other ends. After so long, he’s not even sure he would reject the spirit if he could. After all, no one knows him so well as the spirit that haunts him.

Cornered by YadonushiRyou

Life is different for Private Investigator Ryou after a too close encounter with a maniacal killer. Ryou has to deal with physical and mental scars, navigating through life only to find that he can’t forget Bakura as easily as he would have liked. His partner Malik tries to help him along the way, but things between them are much different than they used to be, causing tension in their close relationship. Meanwhile, time is running out when it seems the killer on the loose has already chosen his next victim.

An Unwhole Half by SheIsHoldingACat

The problem with being one half of a whole is that the other half has to agree. The problem comes when the other half wants it all to itself.

Or:,

Ryou wishes he had the bond with his spirit that Yugi has. He wishes it was possible.

Philosophy of a Knife by crushedmary

Absolute power corrupts absolutely. Ryou learns this the hard way when he becomes the vessel for Zorc's power.

A canon rewrite where Bakura wins.

Other Yugioh

Gratitude by Resuri

Amir is an assassin. His job is easy. Someone give him a target, he kills them, and he gets paid for it. Not to mention he is really good at it. However, never could he had imagined his job would have him to be acknowledged by the most beautiful and horrific creature he ever saw.

But, hey, Ryou just wants to thank him for the meals!

Our Scars remind Us that the Past was Real by Sesshy380

Imagine waking up, and everyone is trying to convince you that the things you 'remember’ never happened, and that those 'memories’ exist only in YOUR head. The Thief King doesn’t have to imagine…because that’s exactly what happened.

-or-

The Thief King get’s a second chance at life.

Martyrs by SheIsHoldingACat

the history of the shadow games extends three-thousand years, to Ancient Egypt...

~

A rewrite of the events of Memory World, with emphasis on moral greyness, political intrigue, and the premise that Thief King Bakura was entirely justified

These are a few of the fics I really like. Thank you for your ask!

@resuri-art @worldendercharles @tenderwulf @crush3dmary @sesshy380 @millenniumringg

#ao3 fanfic #fic rec

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - 2023 Begins!

Jan 20232 Wk 1

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs. Organized by which ones (in each category) I’m enjoying most.

Ongoing Series - Thai

Never Let Me Go (Tues YT) 4 of 12 - I keep saying this, but I can’t get over how delighted I am to have Perth back on my screen, and under the GMMTV umbrella. He is a stellar actor. I like that the first kiss of this show wasn’t btw the leads. Felt more realistic to high school. Big drama next week!

My School President (Fri YT) 5 of 10 - I missed these two so much last week. But also there was A MUSICAL INCIDENT and it caused a bit of a rant from yours truly. 

Between Us (Sun iQIYI) 9 of 12 - no ep this week, resumes tomorrow WATCH ALONG HERE.

609 Bedtime Story (Fri WeTV) 7 of 11 - Game remains my spirit animal (pushy fucker), and the plot of the main couple is interesting even if I don’t like the cheating component. 

Cutie Pie 2 You (special) 1 of 4 - Oh it’s a full on special. Very very pretty and, is possible, more sappy and full of manufactured angst. Nuea protecting Hia’s interests was sweet. Lots of making out. So... more of the same, basically. What year are we in now, anyway?

I Will Knock You (Fri Gaga) 8 of 12 - (note from my Thai language spy rgr ep 5: the writing on the stone tablets was their names + 2 family members) And now we are suddenly firmly in BL territory and baby Dom is just a baby Seme. No bisexual identity crisis needed... just diving into cheese fest. 

Remember Me (Sun Gaga) 13 of 14 - I would have kept JaFirst apart for longer, quite frankly. I mean otherwise why bother split them up in the first place? Please just end this show already. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

The New Employee (Korea Weds Viki) 3 of 8 - I love them so much, and they are so cute, and this is not open to discussion. Viva la age gap! 

The Director Who Buys Me Dinner (Korea Weds iQIYI) 7-8 of 10 - There is a lot implied about the leads history together, but it was still nice to get backstory plus GAT KISSES. I love it when they flip the dynamic and give the uke agency. I’m really enjoying this show now, I’m even invested in the love triangle.

HIStory 5: Love in the Future (Taiwan Weds Viki) 2 of 10 - Side couple ascension: Daddy Long Legs trope, it’s been a while since I have seen this in ANY romance drama. I’m not really into the main couple, at least not yet (and I totally missed that they hadn’t met each other in person yet), but I really love the side dishes. It’s like H4 all over again only with less dub con.

Candy Color Paradox AKA Ameiro Paradox (Japan Fri Gaga) 4 of 8 - nothing this week. 

It’s Airing But I’m Not Watching It

Love Bill (Vietnam Sat YT) - Bah Vinh is back but I’m too distracted. Also there’s a lot of fund raising stuff going on with them. I can wait.

The Star Always Follow You (Vietnam YT) - same Team RL peeps we have seen before (Sunshine, Stupid)

Moonlight Chicken GMMTV’s Midnight series (Weds YT) 1 of 8 eventually - first segment has begun bit it’s not the EarthMix messy gays. Sorry all, I’m so not interested in messy hets, so I’m waiting until they grace my screen.

Questions!!! 

Should I watch The Warp Effect? Tublr seems excited about it and BL bits look good? Will they end happy? Thoughts anyone? 

Till the World Ends (Thai YT) finished at 10 eps, the heat looked good but I don’t know about the ending with that kind of title, so did anyone risk it and want to tell me what they thought? I haven’t seen much chatter on my feed so I am not optimistic. 

In Case You Missed It

2022′s The Usual Night (Twitter account) from Japan is a 10-ep fake documentary series starring the members of Jpop group the Fantastics. It flew under everyone’s radars but apparently has a BL subplot featuring Yagi Yusei (My Beautiful Man) and Seguchi Leiya. This officially means they beat OnlyOneOf to the punch as the first inter-group BL pairing. Keito Kimura (Onoe from Candy Color Paradox) is also a member of Fantastics and in the show. Source reddit. No word on official international release. Japan is like that. 

OnlyOneOf’s Nine dropped the last (?) in their BL Kpop series, 'beyOnd' (be #6) 

I posted all my 2022 wraps, top picks, industry stats, etc.. 

Next Week Looks Like This:

Jan 19: Individual Circumstances 8 eps - A reunion romance between a movie director who was once promising and a writer who disappeared due to past wounds. Stars JunQ (main rapper of 2nd gen group MYNAME) and Han Jung Wan (Mr International Korea winner).

2023 forthcoming BL master post is in the works... wait for it... I had to finish all the 2022 wrap ups first. Also waiting for the last of the studio announcements.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Never Let Me Go

Ah the love triangle. 

The Director Who Buys Me Dinner caught himself a live one. 

(last week)

Current Kpop earworm? You gotta check out VIXX (sub unit) new single. Gonna Be Alright = 2 BL stars in one croon. (Hyuk Color Rush 2 & Leo Happy ending Romance). *props chin on hand and bats eyes winsomely at Ken* So?

#this week in BL #BL news #BL gossip #upcoming BL #best BL #new BL #BL reviews #Thai BL #Korean BL #Taiwanese BL #Japanese BL #live action yaoi #Rakutan Viki #gagaoolala #GMMTV #VIXX #VIXX leo #VIXX ken #vixx hyuk #Color Rush 2 #Happy ending Romance #kpop #Never Let Me Go #My School President #609 Bedtime Story #Cutie Pie 2 You #I Will Knock You #The New Employee #The Director Who Buys Me Dinner #HIStory 5: Love in the Future

[equallyshaw]

remember me- trevor zegras imagine.

Warnings: none.

Word Count: 1.8k+

↓

I couldn't believe that they had remembered me. Quiet, book lover and sarcastic brunette who unfortunlty (at times) lived next to the Hughes Brother growing up in Canton. I am gonna be honest, I never really knew them. Seeing as they played hockey all day everyday, went to the public highschool while I went to private and played volleyball. Total opposities.Which meant I never met any of there friends, which I was more than thankful for. Those three by themselves during the summertime hanging out by there pool, always distracted me from my pool reading sessions. Which usually led to me going inside frustrated. Not that I didn't mind them, it's just I knew for a fucking fact, that I would never introduce myself first. It just wasn't who I am. So I spent the better part of three years watching them go in and out, or trying to kill one another during street hockey.

It wasn't until the summer going into my senior year of college at USC, that there was an oppurtunity to speak to them. I had 3 girls fly out to see me from school, to spend a week with me. Seeing as it was our final season together, we wanted to make the most of our time together. We never knew when or if we would ever play together but simply, be able to hang out with one another without any big pritiroties. We were walking outside towards my car, heading into Detroit to eat and shop. Again, I have barely spoke five words to any of these dudes over the years and I was for sure not going to change that. The three brothers walk out with maybe 5 or 6 other dudes, who honestly look like a copy and past of one another. "Abbs!" Jessica called for me, as I neared the end of my driveway. "Are we going to the one on the border?" She questioned and I nodded, unlocking the car. I could feel the guys watching us as we made our way out for the evening. In our short but tasteful dresses, and you can maybe throw in some heels and some nice handbags. We had buisness to attend to in the name of seafood. "Dude look at Paxton." Morgan said laughing as we all looked towards my childhood dog, watching out the front door with my mom behind him. I smiled, hopping in the car and turning it on. "Dude, who are those people?? And why are they so damn hot??" Frankie questioned from beside me, almost drulling. I gave her a side eye, turning up the ac. "Man, I wish I saw them the way you did. Maybe I would of said hi one time." I mused, making sure everybody was buckled before I took off. "Wait what?" Frankie screamed, alerting the group outside. "Dude, shut your door!" Jessica laughed. I rolled my eyes and drove past the group, turning out of the subdivision. "Youre telling me, that after four years almost, you havent said jack shit? Oh my god- that's chaning this week." Frankie demanded and I shook my head. "They'll probably be at there lake house in new hampshire honestly. That's all I know though." I responded and so it began, the three girls that I call my bestfriends, plotting to set me up with one of them. And honestly, themselves. "Nothing serious Abbs, we promise." Morgan smirked from the backseat. I rolled my eyes, preparing myself for what they had to say at dinner.

We came back around 11 oclock, after much needed seafood and frozen yogurt. "Let's go get some drinks and sit around the pool?" Frankie asked us and we all nodded. They all grabbed some drinks, as I cleaned up the outside. We all sat down and took in the peaceful, not too hot not too cold night. "I can't believe we've made it." I stated, looking up at the sky. "Me either. I for sure thought you would of been long gone after year 1!" Morgan joked, causing us all to laugh. I playfully slapped her leg, shaking my head. "Ill be right back, I totally forgot what I had in my back trunk." I said jumping up and jogging out towards my front yard. I can't believe, I forgot about it. I smiled, opening my trunk and pulling out our team usa ball from worlds last year. We had somehow made the team and well, that was for sure the highlight of our career. I shut the trunk as a car rounded the culdesac, and I turned to look and saw that it was the Hughes car. I made my way to my front seat to stall, and they got out, hollering like there was no tomorrow. I internally cringed and made sure I had what I needed, before shutting my door- maybe a little too hard. Four of the boys including I think Jack all look towards me, and I froze before walking back up my driveway. "OH MY GOD NO WAY!!!!!" Jessica said running out to meet me, and freaked as soon as she saw the ball. "Holy crap! Is that it??" She questioned taking it from me and began to hit it on the ground like you do before serving. I giggled, nodding as the rest of the girls came out. "2 on 2, lets go Abbs." Frankie said pulling me with her, and we all made our way out to the street for a little 2 on 2 drunk game. Well, tipsy but soon to be drunk. I turned to look over at the dudes who were very interested in the game at hand, and I sighed getting into position. "No funny buisness, this is real shit." Morgan demanded causing Frankie and I to burst out laughing, probbaly not as funny as we thought it was due to our intoxicated state. "Lest we forget, punctality and the art of competativness." I mused as Jessica hit the ball to me and I set it up for Frankie who then hit it back to me and I hit it back over, keeping my spike for later. It was five minutes later when Morgan spoke up, causing me to grow with butterlies. "Hey boys, instead of watching - you should just come join us. It'll be more fun." She said placing a hand on her hip and smiling her charming smile towards the group of 8 dudes. "OH its on!" One of the yelled, causing us to laugh. I stayed with Frankie as they broke up into our two teams. "Abby right?" One of the brunettes questioned and I nodded, looking over towards him. "Yeah, and you?" I questioned. "After spending countless nights over here- you still don't know who I am?" He said, a smirk toying at his face. I shrugged, "I know you aren't a Hughes." I said matter of factly and he laughed. His eyes crinkling in delight, flashing a smile. "No, but Im Trevor." He smiled and I nodded. "Stand here." I said pushing him into a spot and he obeyed, giving me a tiny salute. I rolled my eyes playfully, and looked towards Jack who was on my team. "Please tell me you know a thing or two?" I sarcastically asked. "Obviously! Don't think we didn't see you outside for hours doing the same thing over. and over. and over. again." He said dramatically, and I playfully pushed him. "Ok.Ok. Just stand here." I said planting him in position. I later came to find out that Alex Turcotte and Cole Coulfield on my team where Morgan and Jessica had Quinn, Luke, somebody named Brendan Brisson and Thomas Bordealou. Brendan wasn't half bad for a recreational beach player. Which Morgan made sure to pound into him, just because. We played for around an hour, basking in the almost child like aura that filled the air. We were 4-4, so whoever won this game, won the whole thing. "Jack!" I screamed, alerting the boy to hit it. I set it up after he hit it to me, then I placed it towards Frankie who did a semi-jump spike, which in turn couldn't be picked up. Meaning, we had just won the game! "YES!" Frankie and I screamed at one another, running into eachothers arms playfully. We parted as we went to go fist pump with the boys, which wasn't enough for Trevor. No, he picked me up from my backside and spun me around. "Let's goooooooo!" Jack screamed, rubbing it in the other team's faces. "COME ON BEACH!" Morgan screamed at Brendan, causing the other guys on the team to laugh. She always had a thing against beach players, and she made it known always. Trevor set me down, and wrapped his arm around my shoulder. "Celebratory drinks at Sinclaires house!!!" Jack announced, and I looked at him with playful surprise. "How dare you you!?" I playfully questioned, before he looked at Trevor. The groups settled down, and we made our way towards my backyards. Well, I thought I was. No. Trevor picked me up, and ran with me towards the backyard. Brendan had the same idea with Morgan, and so everybody took off running towards the pool. "NO NO TREVOR!" I Screamed as he jumped with both of us going in. We hit the water, and quickly swam up to the surface as everybody jumped in. Trevor popped up and I swam towards him to dunk him in. His hands found my waist as I did so, sending a shock of nerves through my system. "RUDE!" I said splashing him playfully, causing him to laugh. A little while later, we all sat around the firepit, the boys had started in my backyard. We all shared stories about the sport we loved to play, funny stories from the USNDP while I lived oblivious next store. Trevor and I sat close together, so close I could feel the body heat he was radiating. Unbeknowst to me, he wanted to be even closer. Not gonna lie he was attractice, but seemed to much of a pretty boy for me. Like, there was some ulterior motive. I smiled softly, looking down at my hands just listening to the group talk back and fourth. "You good?" I heard in my ear, and I nodded, slowly turning towards Trevor. He smiled down at me, almost begging me to shift closer to him. His arm found it's way around my shoulder as I did so. "Please tell me this is where you ask me for my number." I said with a sly grin. The ever existing smile grew wider, as I saw his cheeks flush. He nodded, "Been wanting yours since the 11th grade." He mused causing me to giggle. "Well, im glad you rememeberd me- Mr.Zegras." I smirked, his not understanding how I knew his name.

↑

just a short, cute imagine! please like and reblog-- if you enjoyed :)

#Trevor zegras #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras imagine #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #hockey imagine #hockey blurb #trevor zegras x oc #jack hughes

[youmakemyhearthowl]

Punk Princess

Ao3| Part 1| Part 2| Part 3| Part 4| Part 5 | Part 6| Part 7| Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10| Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 (Next Part)

One of the things Eddie hates about Saturdays is when all the guys are busy doing things with their family, and Wayne works second shift instead of third, so Eddie’s just stuck in a tin box with his thoughts all day.

So he actively makes plans to rectify that. 

It takes him 20 minutes to find the phone book and track down Robin's number, cursing up a storm as he tears apart the kitchen drawers to find it. Humming in surprise when he stumbles upon the special K he bought once to try from Rick and had promptly forgotten existed after the first bump. He ends up shuffling into his room to stash it somewhere Wayne won’t find it, before finally stumbling upon the phone book, shoved under one of the tables legs to keep it from wobbling. Eddie vaguely remembers a drunk, excited rant with Gareth one day where he’d accidentally tripped and caused a whole avalanche of things to fall on him and then him onto the table, effectively snapping a few inches off the table leg.  He giggles at the memory as he punches in Robin's phone number, humming Metallica as he waits for her to answer. 

He’s not sure if it’s the best idea to see if Robin wants to hang out, because he’s at least sixty percent sure she’s still mad at him in some capacity, but he wants to take her out to milkshakes as a proper thank you for opening his eyes to the fact that, yea he hadn’t just been an asshole, he’d really done something harmful to Steve. 

Eddie was still getting used to having friends that he hadn’t known his whole life.

He was still getting used to having friends that were still learning him and he was still learning in return. He realizes now that a lot of the way he reacted was biases he’d let himself get sucked into over the years, even though he preached non conforming and breaking the molds. Uncle Wayne was the perfect example of someone who was one thing once, and had changed for the better- Although, Eddies fairly certain, uncle Wayne was always a good guy, even when he was a jock. And that was a good lesson for Eddie to latch onto.

And even though Steve had accepted Eddie's apology and they had talked, Eddie was going to spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to Steve. Because in Eddie’s long learned biases he’d forgotten to think of people as people , as individuals that could be more than one thing. And Steve had proven over and over he wasn’t who he used to be, and Eddie had shat all over that. So for as long as he lived, or until Steve realized Eddie was just as bad as some of the people he pretended to hate and ditched him (Steve was too kind to ever do that, Eddie knew) he would spend all that time, weaving his promise and apology into everything he was. Because at the very least Steve deserved that. Although Eddies started to see that Steve really deserved so much more- The world really. 

“Yello’, Red Bird here.” Robin's voice rings in his receiver pulling Eddie from his thoughts and he chuckles.

“Red Bird?”

“Oh Eddie, hi, I thought you were Steve.” Her voice isn’t necessarily unkind, but it has a lack of friendliness to it that Eddie can detect. 

“Hey Robin, uh.. I’ll pick you up in 10 and we can get milkshakes? I really need to talk to you.” There’s a long pause after he finishes, Robin making a soft humming noise like she's debating really hard about what to say in return when an over exaggerated sigh crackles to his ears.

“You buy, and maybe I’ll hear you out, Munson.” There's finally a friendliness in her tone again when she responds, and Eddie fist bumps the air slightly in celebration. Offering her a short goodbye before scavenging around the mess he made in the kitchen to find his keys, cheering triumphantly when his fingers latch onto them. 

When they get to the diner and are situated in one of the far back booths away from all the other people chattering, Robin seems to completely deflate before his eyes. Dropping the angry silent glare she’d been shooting him the whole drive over. 

“I’m electing to trust you with him Eddie, and I’m not really confident in that decision, but for whatever reason you make his little punk heart happy, and it’s not my place to stand in the way of that.” She’s staring at the menu in front of her like it’s what personally offended her as she speaks, before looking up at him and holding his gaze. “I like you Eddie, I always have, you’re different and out there and one of the freaks like I’ve always been. But you’ve got a real thick head sometimes. Steve isn’t like me and you.” She places the menu on the table in front of her, sliding it over so Eddie has time to look for what he wants before the waitress comes. Eddie goes to answer, wanting to reassure her he gets it now and he really does want to do better, when she holds up a finger to stop him. “Steve is… softer. He doesn’t seem it, and you’d never really be able to tell from who he used to be, but that was a very carefully crafted mask and shield that he worked on so people didn’t see the vulnerability there and use it against him. But Steve’s- sensitive, in a lot of ways that you, and even I haven’t gotten to fully see yet. So I need to know that I can trust you with him, because if you aren’t sure, on being his friend or anything else for that matter, then you need to leave him the fuck alone right now.” 

Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen Robin talk that much before that wasn’t just rambling on, thoughts going a mile a minute and he’s taken aback by it slightly. Taken aback by the fierce fire in her eyes as she talks about Steve, her shoulders squared like she's genuinely ready to deck him if he says the wrong thing.

“Steve’s important to me, and I intend to spend a really long time making it up to him and proving it to him.” Is what Eddie settles on saying, shaking off the sentences about how he’d rip his own heart out and give it to Steve if it meant he could prove just how much he meant it when he said it. That was probably too intense too soon and he’s not sure how Robin would react to it. She looks at him for a second, taking in his words and seeming to weigh them in her head before she nods.

“I really hope you mean that, Eddie. You didn’t see him, at the beginning of this transformation he’s going through. But he’s given up a lot to try and be a better person, and truly be himself. He.. he didn’t have a lot before, but he lost things that in a lot of ways are important, and he’s tried really hard to stay on the right path.” She looks down at her hands, her voice growing quiet and soft, “He was in really bad shape when Cam found him.” Her eyes flow up to meet his again. “I’m not sure if he’d still be here if Cam hadn’t found him.” Her stare is firmly locked on Eddie when she says the last sentence and Eddie's breath catches at that.

Because there were a lot of signs about what Steve had given up to be the new him weren’t there? The most glaringly obvious one being the fact that he lives with Hopper and El, at 17, and not in his parents house anymore. And the fact that Steve had come back from the summer looking as different as he did, was a big indicator of the things he’d been through, but Eddie also noticed the flinching, when people moved too quickly, and the way Steve knew how to fight now and was dangerous . Because the Steve before, had been an indifferent bully at worst, but he’d never carried himself the way he does now, with an air of predator around him. And to think, that Steve had been in such a bad way that they might have lost him before Eddie really even got to know him? Truly know him like he was starting to? Eddie could feel tears spring to his eyes.

He cast his gaze up to the ceiling briefly, willing them not to fall, before reaching out and grasping Robin's hand, pulling his gaze back down to meet hers and nodding slightly. 

“I can’t promise I won’t fuck up again, because I’m human, and I’m learning there's a lot that doesn't fit into the boxes I hadn’t even realized I was putting them into.” She goes to say something and he shakes his head. “But I can give you the promise, that I am trying to be better, and do better, and be someone worth this new Steve's time. Worth Steve’s time, because really, I don’t even totally know why I had reacted the way I had the other day. Probably insecurities that I’ve got, but that wasn’t fair to take out on Steve, because I can see how much he’s trying to be better, and I’ve experienced first hand how truly kind and good he is. It was unfair of me to treat him the way I did, and I told him as much Thursday night, but I wanted to apologize or… or thank you for bringing to my attention that a simple “I’m sorry” Isn’t really the apology it should be when you don’t acknowledge the way your actions made someone else feel.”

Robins eyes are wide as she takes his words in, smiling softly at him, and he knows she's not mad at him anymore, when she brings his hand up to her mouth and kisses the back of it, in a way he’s seen Steve do to her when she’s apologized for something in the past. Their special way of saying I forgive you, or you’re welcome, and Eddie’s heart feels so warm and blessed that he gets to even have a part of Robin and Steve in his life. 

When the waitress comes and takes their order, Robin getting a strawberry milkshake and Eddie getting a chocolate one, they lull into a comfortable conversation about how stupid their English class is, and argue over music and the best food. The invisible wall between them finally destroyed and lying in ruin as they giggle and Robin almost snorts milkshake out of her nose. 

It’s nice, and lively, and Eddies never felt so comfortable around someone that isn’t Gareth, and he’s happy and content to feel this way with Robin.

Chrissy Cunningham cheerfully bouncing over to their table when she spots them as she bounds through the door, only adds to the warmth Eddie’s feeling.

“Oh my gosh! Hey guys, what are the odds we run into each other here?” She’s all sunshine and bright smiles and Eddie’s heart swells a bit, remembering when she still had braces freshman year and always held a hand in front of her face when she laughed or smiled. Robin is instantly a flustered mess and Eddie has to cover his own smile with a hand as he watches them interact. Robin going a mile a minute about something band related, and huh, interesting Chrissy is hanging onto every word coming out of Robin's mouth, sliding into the booth next to Eddie so she’s placed directly across from Robin. Leaning in and giving Robin her undivided attention. 

“You’re so smart Robin.” Chrissy beams, placing a hand on Robins and squeezing it slightly, “Honestly I could listen to you talk about anything all day and I don’t think I’d ever get bored.”

Oh, oh this is very interesting.

Eddie’s about to be a little shit and make a comment to get Robin to blush deeper, when Jason Carver's voice bellows across the diner.

“Chrissy, come on, you don’t want to get freak juice on you.” He turns his eyes to Eddie, the glint in them a clear threat. “ And stop coercing her to be around you Munson, fucking trailer trash.” Eddie screws up his face in return, filling his cheeks with air and blowing a raspberry in Jason’s direction as Chrissy stands up.

“I’m sorry about him, I’ll see you guys at school.” She shoots them both a soft smile, but the edges are tinted with a sadness that wasn’t there before, and Eddie has half a mind to pull her back into the booth and keep her with them, if only to crack enough jokes to get it to be the beam it was before. Robin offers her own sad smile in response, Chrissy walking slowly towards her boyfriend with her shoulders sagging a bit. Eddie really can’t help himself.

“Carver, I know you’re a good Christian boy or whatever, but the term isn’t freak juice. It’s Cum.” He flashes a sharp smile at the other man, watching as his shoulders tense and he throws his arm around Chrissy, who Eddie can very clearly see if trying to hide her laugh and then their gone.

“Fucking Carver.” Robin grumbles to herself, slurping loudly at the milkshake. "Also that was so gross Eddie, never say things like that in front of me again.” She scrunches up her nose at him. Eddie could say something back and complain about Jason alongside her, but he wants Robin's easy smile and laughs back, so he turns fully towards her before leaning in with a mischievous smirk on his face.

“So Chrissy Cunningham huh? Got a thing for cheerleaders do ya Buckley?” Her shocked and scared expression was expected, but he can see the moment she remembers that Eddies safe to talk to about this kind of thing, before she settles into a groan and shoves him out of her space.

“How’d you figure it out?”

“What that you like, girls? Or that you like Chrissy in particular?”

“Both? Either?”

“Don’t worry, it’s not obvious that you are a boobie connoisseur.” She groans mumbling a ‘ god theirs two of them’  and Eddie continues “I just know how to spot a fellow queer, and also your face is beat red so that’s how I know about Cunningham.” He cackles loudly when she shoves her whole hand onto his face and tells him he’s an idiot.

(Listen, Eddie and Robin are like the same person and they would be BEST friends.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

We will be back to our regularly scheduled gay panic next chapter <3

And seriously, I appreciate you all so so much! Thank you for going on this journey with me.)

Ao3| Part 1| Part 2| Part 3| Part 4| Part 5 | Part 6| Part 7| Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10| Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 (Next Part)

#punk steve #Punk!steve #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie fic #Punk princess fic #BESTIES FO REAL

[jaskierx]

for the domestic prompts: how about 11 and Butchie (I'm sure nothing could go wrong if Hughie tries to make Butcher tea)

you're so right. what could possibly go wrong

i spent way too long on this and it got out of hand but never mind

now on ao3!

–––

'You want me to get you anything? Something to eat?'

Butcher begins to shake his head, wincing as the movement causes pain to flare behind his eyes. 'Nah. Not hungry. Could fucking murder a cuppa, though.'

Hughie tenses. 'A cup of…tea?'

It's been months since he last made tea for Butcher. Usually Butcher is in charge of hot beverages, tea for himself and coffee for Hughie, made each morning in matching mugs.

Hughie hasn't been trusted to make tea since The Incident.

Surely Butcher hasn't forgotten about The Incident.

If he has, the head injury he sustained in the fight must be worse than previously thought.

Butcher stares at him. 'Yeah. That a problem?'

Hughie can hear his blood rushing in his ears.

'No.' he says, failing to even convince himself. 'No, of course, I'll be right back.'

His heart shouldn't be racing this fast. He shouldn't have a dry mouth, or a sickly feeling in his stomach. Making a cup of tea is very easy and objectively less stressful than pretty much everything Hughie does as part of his day job (if you can call general vigilante crime and espionage a 'day job').

But he thought that last time, and look how that ended up.

This has to be different.

With a deep breath, he selects Butcher's favourite mug and gets to work.

–––

Hughie's already left the room by the time Butcher realises what he's done.

Fuck.

Hughie is very good at a great many things. Unfortunately, making a cup of tea that's fit for human consumption is not one of them.

They'd discovered this a long time ago, when they hadn't been together for very long. Hughie had concocted something that Butcher would later describe as an 'abomination unto the lord', a diabolical monstrosity consisting of too much milk and sugar and too little tea and an odd taste of lemon for some reason, microwaved to tepidity and presented to Butcher in earnest. He'd known from the start that it was not a cuppa to be trusted, altogether too pale and lukewarm, but he'd decided to give Hughie the benefit of the doubt. And he'd lived to regret it.

He'd never admit it to Hughie, but it's the only time he's ever seriously considered ending their relationship.

He's made his own tea ever since.

–––

The cup that Hughie passes him when he walks back into the room is hot to touch, slightly damp from where Hughie's shaking hands have caused a few drops of the tea inside to spill over the edge. That in itself is a promising sign, especially combined with the fact that Butcher can't remember hearing the telltale ping of the microwave.

Additionally, the tea actually looks like tea is supposed to, the rich brown colour worlds away from the pathetic shade of light beige that is burned into his memory from last time. Perhaps it's just an oncoming concussion, but he's actually starting to feel a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this won't be as bad as he's been expecting.

He braces himself and raises the mug to his lips.

Instantly, it's as if a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. He swallows the sip of tea and breathes a sigh of relief.

It tastes like a completely mediocre cup of tea.

It's a bit too sweet, a little under-brewed, clearly made using a teabag that's seen a few seasons – but it's drinkable, and that's such a relief that Butcher wants to cry.

–––

Hughie's been holding his breath ever since he began walking back from the kitchen, and he's beginning to feel lightheaded. He exhales, breath shuddering, and winces as Butcher takes the first sip from the mug.

'I'm sorry, I did everything you said after last time, I swear, I used the kettle, I put the milk in last, I set a timer on my phone while I was stirring, I didn't let the spoon touch the sides, I'm just cursed, I've got a fucking tea curse, every tea I touch turns to shit–'

'Hughie.' Butcher cuts him off, his voice soft. 'There is nothing wrong with this cup of tea. It tastes fine.'

Realistically, it's the highest praise Butcher could've possibly bestowed. Positive enough that Hughie can rest assured that he hasn't caused a repeat of The Incident. Negative enough that Hughie believes him, instead of becoming more concerned about the head injury.

Fuck first dates and first times and moving in together. Turns out the real important relationship milestone is successfully making a cup of tea for your partner without being accused of attempting to poison them.

The bar is low, but Hughie has narrowly avoided limboing under it, and for that he's allowed to be proud of himself.

#asks #hughiepvssy #the boys #the boys fic #butchie #billy butcher #hughie campbell #lyse.jpg

[jamesunderwater]

Tell me about your writing history! Is this your first fandom? Had you ever written anything else before? Maybe embarrassing poetry or a diary?

Wow this ask had me pulling out my old hard drive to look at the oldest writings I could find I actually went into my old boxes and found the one remaining notebook from pre-college, as well. So this turned into a VERY fun adventure xD Thank you for sending this, Anna!

So my journey into writing is really intertwined with my love for HP. I'd definitely say it was my first fandom, and it's absolutely been my most long-lasting one. I was very into Supernatural in middle school as well (it had just come out), but nothing captured me like HP, and eventually, the Marauders. I remember writing a story when I was like 9 for this monthly contest we had in school, and I specifically said to myself, "I'm going to write this in the style that JKR uses," and because of that, I was SURE I was going to win the contest. I even remember using "he said, matter-of-factly" in the story, because I'd looked up what that meant when reading HP (about Hermione, of course) and thought it was just next-level writing. I did actually win the contest that month, too! xD So I would say I really started getting into writing and enjoying it because the Harry Potter books made me fall so in love with reading.

So jump ahead to early middle school, around 11 years old, I'm on fucking Neopets, and I discover a roleplaying forum. And a thread seeking someone to play James at the Yule Ball......and thus, my Highest Self was born. 😆 It felt like I'd discovered a whole new world where I could really be myself and do the things I loved with other people who loved it, too. So I started roleplaying (on myspace lmao), mostly as Sirius or James and eventually also Dean Winchester. I discovered ff.net and hpff, and wrote some stories, but mostly I really loved interacting with other writers through rping.

Most of what I wrote outside of rp was either poetry or short stories, and most of it was really dark, cause my life in general was really dark. In college I took a poetry writing course and a fiction writing course and fucking loved them both, but I didn't end up going any further in those courses. I roleplayed off and on throughout my 20s, wrote poetry off and on, little fics and drabbles here and there. Came up with ideas for books I never wrote. So really, what I'm doing right now with Dead to Me is the most "serious" I've been about a multi-chapter story before, unless you count the ongoing stories I technically wrote as a roleplayer. Like, I know I'm actually going to finish this one, whereas so often in the past I just let things fall away (thank you, adhd).

As for old writing/embarrassing stuff - the oldest fandom thing I found was actually a short wolfstar fic I wrote in 2011 that made me smile so much! I might post it. 😊 Which is so funny because I don't even remember writing it. I did easily find some embarrassing poetry, though. I picked one out from my hard drive from 2011 before I found my old notebook from high school, so congrats, you get two embarrassing poems for the price of one. Under the cut, cause geez, I've already talked a lot xD

From my first year in college...feast your eyes on a gross poem about my first real boyfriend, who was (shocker) an absolute asshole:

It’s your back, the way your skin crawls across it like caterpillars stretching tight while you blanket over me.

It’s your hair, those thick tendrils of brown leaves falling over me like autumn when it starts and it feels like the sky is falling.

It’s your laugh, that low baritone. That tuba in the brass section that gets all the attention and earns glares from the girls in football stands that can’t hear over them, but I become a puddle to that sound.

You are a warm blanket in an ice locker – relief.

Watching you live is like videotaping a child’s first years. Their first giggles that grace the world, first few steps and words and birthdays, bed time stories and grandparents’ laps. All in all, true happiness.

You are all the reasons in the world to smile, and so I am.

Andddd from my first year in high school, please enjoy this poem about having your heartbroken by someone on the internet:

You were like a magnet I, a piece of metal could do nothing but give into gravity and fall into your hesitant arms

I couldn't trust you to catch me

When I came crawling back you made me swear never to leave again I made the vow sealed myself in an envelope that never made it to Ohio

You refused to open me up I just begged and pleaded for your love

In the end the magnet will pull away and leave me a useless piece of rust Too drained to give up Too defeated to get up

When you left, so did all my hope

You wonder why I take the lead You wonder why I always leave the first time

Real talk, I actually MUCH prefer the second poem. Maybe it's because I still remember lines from it to this day, or because the idea of writing a lovey poem to an asshole is more cringey than writing a heartbreak poem in general, but.... I don't hate those last two lines 😆

#please feel free to reblog this and 1. critique these hilarious poems and 2. tell me YOUR writing story!!! #cause this was actually so fun to think back on #love a trip down memory lane #thank you again for sending this!! #annabtg #me #my writing #charlie mail

[gre-chankas-stuff]

Oc? 👀

YOU FOOL, YOU ACTIVATED MY TRAP CARD !!! NOW ALL OF THE TUMBLR WILL KNOW I HAVE NO ARTISTIC TALENT!!!!!!!

On the serious note, thank you. Now, i can

1. Lok, a guy with amnesia

Appearance

I do not have a full ref of him because i cant draw coherent pictures as a reference.

Heres his colored floating head and a bunch of sketches i did in class with a pen and was still motivated to draw

And a silly little stickman rendition in that style i use in comics sometimes

Personality

Surprisingly good leader

A little cocky at times, but does know how to gain leverage against strong opponents

Does, in fact, like fighting. Weapon of preference is a sword, although he's also proficient in any object that can be used as weapon

Relies a lot on his reflexes though, sometimes maybe too much, which is a byproduct of the fact that his body knows more than he ever will.

Moderately caring person, although cannot pass by someone in distress without feeling a little guilty

Would die to save friend. Had died to save a friend. The world died for him to save a friend.

His teeth are not for show. Do not threaten what is his.

Story

His story is just as incoherent as are my attempts to give him full ref, only thing time it's intentional.

The premise is such: he wakes up in a world he only particularly recognises (but it feels Extremely off) with little memory of who he is, what he's supposed to do or go. The story itself is a journey to uncover his previous life, find his forgotten friends while gaining new ones, and discover the secrets of the world he inhabits!

What actually happens to him (as the story goes) is that he has a panic attack shortly after waking up, - because he doesn't even remember his own name! - fights a Big and Deadly Bird™ with his bare hands, face-plants in a mud puddle, has another panic attack after seeing his face in a river, kills some monsters with his teeth, dies, tears more monsters with the tools he scrapped from nothing and dies again. Yes, in that exact order. And it's not even the end of his first week here.

He's... Going through it

As of his ✨ mysterious backstory ✨.... It's incomplete :p

And by incomplete i mean that i have some bare bones structure of it, but its still mostly just... In the air. Because i love him as a blank slate that Knows something he Possibly Shouldn't (like craftsmanship, weapon usage, farming, ect.) that are so integrated in his muscle memory that it's literally so freaky actually. Man freak

Meta stuff

His appearance and general plot of his journey is actually based on a minecraft youtuber and his modded-mc-with-plot series that i watched at the time of creation. However, unlike the guy that won't allow his character to have any magnitude of personality and reflection of the inflicted trauma all his shenanigans surely caused, i'm rerouting the story Completely south of what actually happened there.

Although it is still happening minecraft, yes. Live with that.

Also, i classify my ocs in my head as siblings, from oldest (created earlier) to youngest (created later), and Lok is the fifth and the youngest in the family.

2. Enais "Ena" Crovn, girl that can survive Armageddon

Appearance

Imagine a generic long haired girl oc of a 11 years old that thought foxes and wings were cool, and you have basically Ena imagined fully

As you can tell.... This one is from 2017? Ish??

These ones are obviously new-er, although they are still entirely incomplete

I do not have Any new references of her except these rough sketches, and she needs Tremendous redesign because Generic Girl White Dress no longer fits, although not much have really changed with her design through the years

Design pending.

Personality

Honestly one of the least traumatised people out there. She's just living her life man.

She's just Just Some Guy.

Positive person, sometimes soft-spoken. Thinking if Fluttershy had to deliver mail instead of caring for animals, although, obviously, not to that extreme

Good with kids

Can fight but really, REALLY would rather just deliver mail, thank you very much

Loves flying

Story

Entirely unknown. Little me had at least 2 different stories for this gal, one of which was that she's an undertale-esque monster that just happened to look deceptively human and works as a mailman for the entire underground, the other being that she was a Freak Experiment of her insane scientist mother that sew wings and fox ears on her and gave her trauma

Surprisingly, the mailman (mailwoman?) one was the first one i actually came up with myself (while the Trauma route was influenced by a lot of gore mlp edits yt recommended me a lot around that time) and even there she was still cool and, by design, in genocide run would still fight the player somewhere in snowdin. So i think i will go with that one

Meta stuff

She IS actually second least traumatised oc i have. As per my ocs family tree, she's also the oldest - in fact, the very first to ever be made, so her knowledge of children comes from wrangling some ptsd and hyperactivity havers in the lot

There's actually third, secret backstory she has, which includes utdr multiverses we all know about. Although she still delivers mail there, she's actually the very same person who sends the asks to askboxes for character to receive through the entire multiverse, and she Is quite strong - because some universes are WILD and very much deadly and it was a necessity to learn to protect herself; which means she can survive anything under any circumstances.

Little me was based af for coming up with this

It is only two for now because i had not expected for it to take So Much Fucking Time to type out this little bits. Ugh

I need to make a list

#greching origins #my ocs #never used the tag before but might as well

[gizmos-prompts]

Dialogue Prompts 4

Based off lyrics from the album Speak Now by Taylor Swift

1. "Do you remember we were sitting there by the water?"

2. "You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter"

3. "You are the best thing that's ever been mine"

4. "We got nothing figured out"

5. "Do you remember all the city lights on the water?"

6. "I'll never leave you alone"

7. "I remember how we felt sitting by the water"

8. "Every time I look at you it's like the first time"

9. "You're the kind of reckless that should send me running"

10. "Meet me in the pouring rain"

11. "I see sparks fly whenever you smile"

12. "My mind forgets to remind me, you're a bad idea"

13. "Just keep on keeping your eyes on me"

14. "I'm captivated by you baby, like a firework show"

15. "I'm sorry for that night"

16. "It turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you"

17. "If we loved again, I swear i'd love you right"

18. "I'd go back in time and change it, but I can't"

19. "This is surely not what you thought it would be"

20. "Don't say yes, run away now"

21. "I know you wish it was me. You wish it was me, don't you?"

22. "Let's run away now"

23. "I lived in your chess game but you changed the rules everyday"

24. "I see it all now that you're gone"

25. "Don't you think I was too young to be messed with?"

26. "I should've known"

27. "Maybe it's me and my blind optimism to blame"

28. "Maybe it's you and your sick need to give love and take it away"

29. "I look back in regret when I ignored when they said, run as fast as you can"

30. "I see it all now, it was wrong"

31. "Don't you think nineteens too young to be played by your dark, twisted games when I loved you so?"

32. "You are an expert at sorry and keeping lines blurry"

33. "All you're ever gonna be is mean"

34. "I'll never impress you"

35. "I just wanna feel okay again"

36. "All you are is mean, and a liar, and pathetic, and alone in life, and mean"

37. "I used to think one day, we'd tell the story of us"

38. "I used to know my place was a spot next to you"

39. "So many things that I wish you knew"

40. "Is it killing you like it's killing me?"

41. "How'd we end up this way?"

42. "I'm scared to see the ending"

43. "Why are we pretending this is nothing?"

44. "This is looking like a contest of who can act like they care less"

45. "I liked it better when you were on my side"

46. "It's so quiet in the world tonight"

47. "I won't let nobody hurt you, won't let no one break your heart"

48. "I just realized everything I have is someday gonna be gone"

49. "I wish I'd never grown up"

50. "I don't wanna grow up"

51. "All I can say is it was enchanting to meet you"

52. "Who do you love?"

53. "Please don't be in love with someone else"

54. "Please don't have somebody waiting on you"

55. "I underestimated just who I was dealing with"

56. "She underestimated just who she was stealing from"

57. "She's not a saint and she's not what you think"

58. "There is nothing I do better than revenge"

59. "Do you still feel like you know what you're doing? Cause I don't think you do"

60. "Come on, show me how much better you are"

61. "I guess you really did it this time"

62. "Who you are is not where you've been"

63. "Who you are is not what you did"

64. "Everyone of us has messed up too"

65. "I hope you remember today is never too late to be brand new"

66. "Come on, come on, don't leave me like this"

67. "I thought I had you figured out"

68. "You're all I wanted"

69. "I still mean every word I said to you"

70. "You told me you loved me, so why did you go away?"

71. "I never planned on you changing your mind"

72. "Remember this moment"

73. "One day, we'll be remembered"

74. "Remember this feeling"

75. "I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you"

76. "I had the time of my life with you"

77. "Don't you worry your pretty little mind"

78. "Life makes love look hard"

79. "I don't care, cause right now, you're mine"

80. "They can't take what's ours"

81. "I know that we could work it out somehow"

82. "I know people change and these things happen"

83. "I just want it back the way it was before"

84. "I take it all back now"

85. "I always forget to tell you, I love you"

86. "I loved you from the very first day"

#angst dialogue #angst prompt #dialogue ideas #dialogue prompt #fanfiction prompts #fluff dialogue #fluff prompts #prompt list #prompts #writing dialogue

[arcann]

10, 11, 12. 17, 20. for mx taigat

This got long, read more it is

10. Write a ~300 word argument scene for them.

It’s random and unsatisfying but then again, that’s how most of the visions they received with the Echo were lately, now that it had only a fraction of the power it used to cast.

“Why was Emet Selch abusive to his own family?” But that’s not the question Taigat wanted to ask.

Gaius glances at them with something close to suspicion. He has never liked it when they used the Echo on him, even if he understood that it was becoming erratic and unwieldy for them as time went on.

“Were they ever really his family? That demon must have thought of them as rats clinging to the corpse he found useful to drag around all those years. He would have felt nothing but contempt in shoving one away.”

And hitting one before he gave a speech. And berating one in public. And making one cry when he was sure not everyone had left the room.

“That’s… not what I wanted to hear.” 

Gaius frowns at that.

“Did you ever think he was right to do it?” Taigat’s words make Gaius pause, staring right into their eye as he decides what to say next.

“Ah, what you wish to ask is ‘did you ever subject your own children to those attitudes?’ And the answer is simple: no.”

It’s also biting and mildly scornful. And it makes Taigat blush furiously.

"No, no, no! I didn’t mean that at all. I…” They swallow harshly. “Did he ever hurt you? Did you want his approval or to– I mean, you were so young in my vision yet you remember those moments so well–”

Seconds that feel like an eternity pass as Taigat expects an answer, seeing the discomfort blooming over Gaius’ face.

“He did hurt me, but not as he did with his children or their children. He used… other methods.” he grants, something he seems to have kept hidden from everyone else for a long time. “Much later, when I was too unguarded to expect it… or too upset to stop it. After much of what I did for him was already done and over.” He regains control over his expression soon, too quickly to be natural. “Still, I’m the one who should come to you with this, not you peering into my mind.”

“You’re right.” Taigat stretches their hand and, to their relief, Gaius takes it, letting them caress his bandaged knuckles with their shaking thumb. “Of course you’re right, old friend.”

(Got too chicken shit to make them fight for real lol, it's either thousands of words with these two where one ends with their values shaken or something boring like "your beast ate my bullets again tell it to stop!" "it says it can taste your rage in them did you fight someone?" "🧍" on the bright side i have two extra scenes for. something *moves it to a drive, for my eyes only *)

11. What causes them to fight?

Answered here!

12. Do they have differing political opinions?

Oh boy did they! They were on opposite sides of a war before they got together after all. 

(I imagine Vauldeaulin had to suffer Gaius unlearning a bunch of garbage more than anyone else and I also like to add that, as opposed to the game, Cid had some very long talks with him to see where they stood)

Afterwards I think Gaius more or less feels like he lost the right to have an opinion in anything strictly political outside of stopping the ones who want to destroy the world or minimizing the consequences of his own actions. He still incites Taigat to be more ruthless with people who haven’t done much wrong or to not being as thoroughly caring with others who could distract them of their mission which gets him rebuffed.

17. What senses (sights, smells, feelings, etc). remind them of each other?

During Legacy, Taigat finds it almost hopeless that he exists. He’s evidence that even if the scions find a way to deal with Nael (which they were already extremely scared of), Gaius would still be there and behind him, all the power of Garlemald. He fills them with dread. Taigat is nothing to Gaius by then, just one of the other scions who don’t occupy much of his mind outside of being Louisoix’s closest allies.

Before Praetorium, Gaius relates them to a sense of surprise and almost shock at the solutions he and the scions find to solve each problem they face. He also notices how well they bond with Cid and is frustrated at himself for not respecting the budding talent in both of them. That sense of frustration becomes painful when he loses Rhitahtyn. To Taigat he is now one of a dozen obstacles he has faced, less abstract and more tangible, just one of the horrible men they have to kill for Eorzea to be free. 

(They hadn’t developed a nasty need for revenge that Haurchefant’s death left them with which Thordan, Zenos, Emet Selch and Athena had to bear)

After the Praetorium burns they think of all the fire, destruction and all consuming heat that place left behind and link it to the other.

Gaius never really stops being surprised by Taigat and their abruptness but it becomes a much more gratifying amazement. Taigat feels safe with him, he is a pillar of security and reality to them and they want to keep it that way.

The overwhelming heat becomes the more temperate climate of Terncliff, destruction turns into a sense of being indestructible, of being able to surpass everything, the fire into a hug that lasts more than necessary and Taigat’s ears tickling Gaius’ face.

20. What is a promise they have made to each other? 

Answered here!

#otp: save your strength for me #ty jeremiah! <3

[blowflyfag]

Pro Wrestling Illustrated: November 1996

Press Conference… BRET HART

Every issue, reporters from PRO WRESTLING ILLUSTRATED will participate in an incisive press conference with a top wrestling star. The questions will be demanding. And the answers will reveal the innermost thoughts of the giants of the sport. 

[Bret Hart beat Diesel for his third WWF World title last year and gained a reputation for being able to beat bigger and stronger men. Now he’s talking as if we’ve seen the last of him in the ring.]

The bell tolls for Bret Hart, but neither Shawn Michaels nor Davey Boy Smith is the one beckoning to him.

It is 6:50 on a pretty June evening in Calgary, and “The Hitman” is going i n two directions, as has been the case of late. There is the interview that he has agreed to do–it is due to begin momentarily. Suddenly, though, Hart remembers that he has to take his son Dallas for drum lessons.

Hart ponders this dilemma, then consults with his ever-supportive wife, Julie, who offers to play chaperone for their percussionist son. 

Problem solved. The interview can go on as scheduled. 

This is what has become a typical night in the life of wrestling’s “Excellence Of Execution.” To wrestling fans, however, it probably sounds like an atypical day in the life of one of the WWF’s most popular and most successful wrestlers of all-time.

Bret Hart, “The Excellence Of Fatherhood”? For now at least, yes. Three months after losing the WWF belt to Michaels in a controversial “Iron Man” match, Hart is adapting to a life that, at least for now, excludes wrestling.

Instead of facing off against the motley likes of Jerry Lawler, brother Owen, and Michaels, Bret is reacquainting himself on a 24-hour-a-day, seven-days-a-week basis with his wife, sons Dallas, 11, and Blade, 6, and daughters Jade, 13, and Alexandra, 8. An accomplished cartoonist, one of eight owners of a Canadian junior hockey team, and a budding actor, Hart is looking into life beyond the squared circle.

Does this mean “The Hitman” has fought his last battle as a wrestler? Senior Writer Bryan Ethier spoke to him about that and much more. 

BRYAN ETHIER: You’ve been away from wrestling for a few months now. After receiving favorable reviews for your performance in the series Lonesome Dove last year, have you made any further efforts to get into acting?

BRET HART: It’s hard to say. It's not like you can just jump into an acting career. You make yourself available and try to find the right project that comes along. You don’t sell out your principles and end up in a show that you might not be too happy about or do a television show that would cause you some discomfort somewhere down the line. You don’t want to do something in acting that would jeopardize your doing something positive or constructive. The performances I gave in Lonesome Dove were genuine and accepted as decent performances. The acting world is something I’m pursuing, but there’s nothing pre-set.

[“To see [Shawn Michaels] hold this image as a male dancer … makes me ill. It always has. People ask me why I didn’t shake his hand at the end of WrestleMania. I don't want to endorse him.”]

ETHIER: How has your success as an actor and a cartoonist precipitated your decision to take a leave of absence from wrestling?

HART: Many, many years ago when I got into wrestling, I set out to accomplish a lot of things. In a lot of areas, I’ve accomplished everything I could have ever hoped to. It’s done. So I can go back and try to repeat it again, and there is some satisfaction in that. Of course I’ve had other dreams and goals I’d like to fulfill, too. I would like to do more cartoons; I used to be a great cartoonist, and I guess I still am. I would like to possibly write a book, not necessarily on wrestling, either. I wouldn’t mind doing a comic strip or a comic book. That would combine both talents. I’ve had my cartoons published in the Calgary Sun (for which he has written a column for nearly six years). It’s kind of a hobby, but it’s something I put a lot of work into to make sure it’s decent.

ETHIER: You’re admired for your integrity and standards. How difficult has it been for you to see some of the changes in the WWF–namely the departure of Razor Ramon and Diesel to WCW and Shawn Michaels becoming WWF World champion?

HART: You never can let your personal feelings get to you too much, because the wrestling business is often like a river: The current’s going to go where it’s going to go. I guess what sells is what works. 

ETHIER: That river has carried with it successful, controversial wrestlers such as Goldust. What are your feelings on him and the direction in which the WWF is headed? 

HART: I feel there’s something missing since I’ve been gone. That is, maybe a truly defined hero. I’m very proud of what I represented as a hero; I stood up for myself and faced all kinds of tough opponents of different shapes and sizes, and I accepted the most severe challenges. I always did it with my head held high and with integrity. “The Hitman” Never gave less than 100 percent. I always went up against the wall with The Undertaker and Yokozuna and a lot of other guys and never backed down. If I needed to bite his head to get out of a bearhug, I did it. That was the way I was brought up. Not to win at all costs, but also not to let some big guy push you around and get away with breaking the rules. And I think that’s a good message for kids. I was never a troublemaker; I was always open and honest about how I fought.

ETHIER: Now that you’ve had some time to reflect on your heartbreaking defeat to Shawn Michaels at WrestleMania XII, how would you rate him as a champion and a hero? 

[Despite giving one of the greatest efforts of his career, Hart lost the WWF title to Shawn Michaels at WrestleMania XII. He has nothing good to say about “The Heartbreak Kid” at this point.]

HART: To see him hold this image as a male dancer–a guy who takes his clothes off and the little dance he does getting into the ring–,makes me ill. It always has. People ask me why I didn't shake his hand at the end of WrestleMania. I don't want to endorse him. I don’t like the way he handles his responsibility as a role model. 

ETHIER: Is it conceivable for a wrestler to be a role model when you consider the oneupmanship that is occurring between the WWF and WCW?

HART: I don’t know. For me, I’ve been around the world and seen how significant it is to be this legendary role model. I’ve had little kids in Israel mob me at the Wailing Wall. I’ve had little Irish kids in North Belfast and Northern Ireland–Catholic and Protestant kids–holding my hand at the same time. I’ve seen kids in India in incredible poverty that are so emotionally overcome when they actually see you in person and see that you’re not a cartoon character. You’re not a figment of their imagination. You’re a real human being who fights these people. I'm very serious about being a hero; I don’t attach a price tag to that. These kids believe what I say, what I stand for. Too many guys get into wrestling now for the money. Loyalty’s more important.

ETHIER: Your blood war with Owen seems to have taken a back seat to your sister Diana’s accusations that Shawn Michaels has harassed her. What are your feelings about having family members drawn into the wrestling fray?

[Bret brought his son Blade to this year’s Slammys (above left). He’s now enjoying full-time fatherhood. And since he has distanced himself from wrestling, he’ll have more time to devote to hobbies such as motorcycle riding if he so chooses (above right).]

HART: Since WrestleMania, I’ve kind of distanced myself from it. I haven't watched the show. I have not been involved in anything that my sister Diana did, or what Owen’s been doing or what Davey Boy’s been doing. In wrestling, you can’t let other people’s view clutter yours. I can’t worry about what Owen is doing or what Davey Boy’s doing. You just hope the right things happen to the good people. I’ve always felt I'm the intelligent fan’s wrestler.

ETHIER: Is there a place in wrestling today for an “intelligent” wrestler such as you?

HART: I don’t think there are enough fans who appreciate a wrestler who has a little integrity, who doesn’t have the same match every night. There aren’t enough who appreciate a wrestler who applies total and complete logic for every match and who doesn’t just dip into the well and do what he did the night before–someone who isn't overcome by his image and persona. I’m the same guy that I was when I got into this business.

ETHIER: How do you wish to be remembered as a wrestler?

HART: I don’t want to be remembered as a guy who held on too long, who sold out his feelings at the very end so he could make a few bucks.

ETHIER: In what direction is the WWF going?

HART: The positive thing I can say about the WWF, opposed to WCW, is that the WWF seems to try to make an effort to go forward all the time. I like to see guys like Steve Austin or my brother Own, because no one can say they’re not good wrestlers. 

EHTIER: Has being a dedicated father of four affected your decision to take a break from wrestling?

HART: I’ve wanted to be home with my kids for years. You can’t just put your family on hold forever, because eventually they grow up, and they’re gone.

ETHIER: Have we seen the last of Bret Hart inside the ring?

HART: I don’t know. I really don’t know. I know there’s a lot of people talking like it’s a plan–that I will just come back and walk right back into wrestling like it was orchestrated or planned from the beginning. I have to have a reason and desire to come back. Maybe what I’m hoping for is people will realize that something’s missing in the wrestling world and they’ll appreciate that what I offered wasn’t so much good, but what it was just wholesome, better. If it ended tomorrow morning and I woke up and said, “I don’t need it, I’m done,” I’d be really proud of what I accomplished and what I got in return. 

#bret hart #bret hitman hart #bred #wwf #world wrestling federation #magazine scan #magazine transcript #pwi #pro wrestling illustrated

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

15 Questions

Thanks for the tag Moya!

1. Are you named for anyone?

Technically yes. My middle name is a biblical one, and also my…. Aunt?? Cousin? I’ve met her but I think she’s my dad’s first cousin and I don’t know what that means I am to her.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Like… what type of cry? Sobbed? End of December. Cried? About a week ago. From laughter? Sunday night. My brother was building a clearance gingerbread house and the icing said “made in a nut free facility” and my brother leaned over to me and said “so no men there?” And I lost it. Later he just fucking leaned over and started to hands free eat the house and I lost it again. Just little tears? Last night. I saw an instagram reel and I got misty eyed. I don’t remember what it was about.

3. Do you have kids?

Haha no. I’m not strictly opposed? But I’m not fucking doing that by myself and relationships are real low priority to me.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

I used to more. Not so much anymore?

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Mostly what they’re doing. And then if they seem happy or not.

6. What’s your eye color?

Blue

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

Honestly neither but I guess happy endings. But not inspiring movies. I fucking hate inspiring movies I spent enough time in church having my emotions manipulated I’m not fucking paying to sit and do it again. Miss me with that shit.

8. Any special talents?

Talent? Uh, I have super flexible shoulders? I guess I would consider my natural aptitude to figure shit out as a talent? Other things I would consider as skills cause I worked for them. So like crafts and my flexibility and writing.

9. Where were you born?

Florida.

10. What are your hobbies?

You don’t have the time to have me list them. And they rotate pretty frequently. But!! I just got a drop spindle and I’m currently obsessed with it. But crafts are definitely a constant. Any craft, I’ve probably tried it once. I’m really not kidding.

11. Have any pets?

Not at the moment. I want rats someday but I’m so busy I wouldn’t be able to give them a good life 😞

12. What sports have you played?

As a child: basketball, soccer, football (like American football lol), tennis, cheerleading.

As an adults I’m pretty active but not really in organized sports. Now I’m doing mostly running, gymnastics, and pole dancing.

13. How tall are you?

5 foot….. 5??? 6???

14. Favorite subject in school?

I honestly liked most of it. I hated geometry tho. One I always wanted to do was Linguistic but alas, FL state law kept me from doing it. 😭 (not that like linguistics specifically is illegal, google excess credit hour laws)

15. Dream job?

Hahahah i don’t even know. I don’t particularly want to work. However I wish I could do animal education at a zoo. I would love that. I would love just answering questions about iguanas.

Oh. Oh wait… my like, dream unbelievable never going to happen job would be an acrobat. Fuck. When I was younger interacting with circus related material like movies or books or even color palets would make my heart hurt. Like sometimes I couldn’t interact with it because it just hurt so much. It’s just so cool and fucking magical and mesmerizing. I loved it. And even at like 15 I thought it was too late for me to ever be a part of that world.

And then when I turned 22 and had a fucking life meltdown, I was watching fucking unus anus and heard Ethan talking about gymnastics and decided to just… try something. And I quickly found out it wasn’t too late?? That I still had a chance to learn and try and experience circus arts??? Now I’ve tried acrobatics and aerial silks and contortion and pole and got on a trapeze once. And now it’s my motivation for how I take care of myself. I have to eat food and move my body and take care of myself. I have to because if I don’t I’ll never be able to try lyra/aerial hoop. I gotta keep going because I’ve got pole on Wednesday and I’m so close to the body spiral.

When I get emotionally low I remind myself I gotta keep going so I can get back to my circus arts.

(Please note I know circus haven’t always been good and nice and happy places. I get it. I know. I’m not talking about that)

Tagging! @as-a-matter-of-whump @brutal-nemesis @cowboy-anon @i-can-even-burn-salad @jordanstrophe @just-a-silly-little-whumper @milk-carton-whump @poopraven @quietly-by-myself @redstainedsocks @susiequaz12 @thoughtsonhurtandcomfort @ziptiesnfries @tearyvictim @

#tag game #about the raccoon #I haven’t used that tag in so long! #I just forget it’s there!