#selfishness. arrogance. status

[we-re-more-than-that]

I haven't peeped much of it, but I did see people calling Sejanus a spoiled kid and I'm like I LOVE HIM EVEN MORE BC HE IS A SPOILED KID AND HE DIDN'T KNOW HUNGER AND HE STILL KNOWS THAT KEEPING THE STATUS QUO ISN'T THE WAY TO GO.

the empathy of this man

especially when you compare him to mf Coriolanus Snow who KNOWS hunger and STILL thinks people deserve this because they're not people but animals

the parallels between those two; Sejanus, kind because of his nature and nurturing of his mother, ten years in the Capitol and not letting those bullies erode his soul, not letting them harden him, he does NOT betray his kindness even as it could help him integrate better, no, he chooses loneliness no matter what over spoiling his soul

and over there is Coriolanus Snow, who does EVERYTHING for image and status, who fake befriends people on the basis of how they benefit him, having poor Tigris, the literal kindest baby, try to nurture him and pull something good out of him, and she just.. fails

and like, yes, Snow had trauma. but sorry it doesn't excuse becoming a dictator

Sejanus, too, had trauma. they all went through war. while, yes, Sejanus had food to eat, he was plagued by loneliness and guilt all his life and let me remind you this is a KID

people expecting him to be crafting plans just don't get it. he's a teenager that feels guilty as fuck and wants at least a few people to do better if he can't save everyone. because he can't, he can't stand by and watch more cruelties until he MAYBE inherits his father's money. and then what? he's not the only rich person in the Capitol.

either way, it's unlikely he could have led some revolutionary rebellion (he certainly had the grit and passion, though) because he had no backing and the ONE person who he trusted was a mf SNAKE and was actively sabotaging him

where was he gonna get allies for a rebellion? Capitol where he was hated because he wasn't like them? District 2 where he was hated because he didn't belong to them either? District 12 where he was a Peacekeeper, the police of the Capitol?

he was doomed from the start. he was too good and he couldn't play the long game because he was feeling so powerfully about everything and was NOT calculating like Snow. he was not the strategist Snow was.

he was a smart, kind, lonely boy who wanted to do good.

[hana-no-seiiki]

ARDENT EXALTATION, ETERNAL DAMNATION

⟣┄─ ˑ 𝐈. ✧ yandere worshipper! x secret god! reader (ft. yan! god oc)

inspired by my bootiful @sagesskies n baldur’s gate shar/shadowheart

synopsis: if there was one main rule under your creed, it was for your name and titles thereof to never be spoken. but for this worshipper, it’s all that leaves his lips.

tw/cw: yandere & religious themes. yun sadist hours writing. reader calls oc their child but it’s not incest yall ples. character deaths.

TO WORSHIP YOU WAS THE GREATEST HONOR ONE COULD RECEIVE. An honor never to be shared nor declared. Selfishness and secrecy were the traits you valued in your followers. You simply felt that flaunting your presence to be superfluous, if not arrogant — thoughtless. A flaw you often saw in other gods that you wished not to have in yourself.

But of course, you were not perfect. No matter how much you may wished to be, even gods had their failures and oversights.

Once such oversight was Ynaël. The Prodigy, Priest of the Night, and your favorite.

He was immaculate. A perfect example of what it meant to worship you. He dedicated his voice, body, and soul only to you. No one knew his name but yourself. No one else knew he even existed. Those that did were sundered from existence, or lived in the afterlife.

You had only the highest of expectations for your child. He had an outstanding beginning. Unprecedented in your long, well hidden line of followers. You called for his name often. Assisted him in the ways you could as a deity in his adventures. Even allowing him to lay with you underneath the stars as mortals and your more carnal siblings did with their creations.

But as mortal beings and gods alike were, when faced with such high praise, it was inevitable for hubris to fester and slowly creep up on him.

He overstepped.

Sharing his devout adoration to his companions. Showering you with praise as he fought. Spreading your transcendent name throughout the very soil he stepped upon, and the crevices of bodies he’d desecrate.

What more was that he was proud of his accomplishments. You deserved to be known. To be remembered and immortalized. To share the spotlight your fellow celestial beings had. Was it not only right that you praise him even more?

But then, he could feel your presence slowly dimming in its luminance.

You never had a temple built to your name, so he could only ponder at night when everyone else had gone off to sleep or have fun underneath the sheets to wonder why you’ve seemingly left him. Was he too harsh? You were known for valuing mercy and forgiveness, the ability to show compassion even to the most tainted beings. Besides, you would never just leave him behind.

Frustrated with your lack of response to his calls, he sets upon a goal to build you a place for worship. One that was overdue in its establishment, in his opinion.

It took many, many agonizing years without a single word from you, but it was finally complete.

He takes a moment to gaze at the statue of your magnificent form he place behind the altar, soon to be covered with sacrifices and blessings. Anything you’d ask for, just as long as you bless him once more with yourself.

But instead, he is greeted by another presence.

A presence very similar to yours. Yet much, much more powerful.

Their voice almost tore Ynaël’s ears wide open in its magnitude.

“You killed them, you — a worthless scum of a mortal.”

Killed whom? Throughout his years working on your temple he had taken no life. He wanted everything to be completed as soon as possible. He had no time for any sorts of conquests.

“Meet your maker.”

©️ hana.no.seiiki - yun | 2024

— to be continued

[mo-aiki]

Duke Augustus Swanson of the North

Summary: Your fiance and how he had reacted to your sudden change in behavior. As he looks back on the past, he wonders how long has he seen your smiling face with content and affection.

Warning: obessive behavior, mentions of violence, obvious implications of bullyin, I don't condone it, I just write it

A/N: ART NOT MINE, IT'S THE MALE LEAD OF THE MANHWA SECRET LADY

Connected to Yandere Isekai M. Characters x F. Reader

For as long as he could remember, Augustus never liked you.

Not a single bit.

The daughter of a count and a generational promise between his grandfather and yours that didn't suffice. His parents were both dead from a carriage accident, and as such, his grandfather took him in and forced him into this marriage. The first time he had met you, he was enchanted by your looks (even if both of you were 8 years old). Your (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes enchanted him, but it soon all came crashing down onto him once your parents left the room, and your true personality was revealed. Even at a young age, he was already being tugged on by young ladies and their families wanting to up their status or rank in noble society, no matter the age. And you were no different in your affections.

Seducing him with sweets.

Yelling at ladies in your way.

"Accidentally" spilling a dark grape juice on a lady's ballgown because he had conversed with her for an hour and found her remotely interesting to talk to.

Trying to talk to him about anything.

Being near him and showing public displays of affection.

Clinging onto a promise, he vowed to break.

He was bored of someone like you. You who were no different than the other ladies who had tried to seduce him. Your mannerisms, your personality, and your ideas, they were all the same to him.

No matter how many times you'd court him, even if it took 5 years to reach, he felt absolutely nothing.

His heart didn't pang, his cheeks and ears didn't flush, his breathing was perfectly normal, and the words out of his mouth cut through like usual.

Nothing would change in your relationship with him. He had planned to break it off and just die alone with no heir or find someone he had mutual interest in.

Nothing will change and he was certain nothing will ever change between the 2 of you.

Until the day you had contracted a deathly high fever.

Augustus was surprised to hear about you 3 days after getting the envelope from your family. He had thought it was you, sending it like you were your father. But his butler forced him to open it.

Dear Young Master Augustus,

I am here to inform you of the cancelation of next Thursday's meeting with my daughter. You see, my daughter has contracted a high fever due to the flu season being prevalent. She is unable to attend the meeting and I would like it if you visit her in order to wish her as speedy recovery. I know that is rather a selfish thing to ask for, but my daughter has been requesting your presence ever since she contracted it. I would like to ask you to please see my daughter and wish for her speedy recovery.

Sincerely,

Count (l/n).

He thought, why not visit. To see you die and his engagement to be break off, would be a euphoric day for him.

He visited you, and was by your side in your room. Pink, frilly and full of girly stuff. He disliked it, but somehow found it cute. You in your lace nightgown, and your face all red but with a cold towel on your head. He had received the news that your fever had been so high, that you had been in a coma now.

He left, because he had nothing else to do there. 'I hope she dies so I can get out of this wretched engagement...' he thought with the coldest stare imaginable.

Your behavior has changed after that fever.

Augustus was not the first one to notice such a change in behavior. Your once smug and arrogant expression, was replaced with a confused and softer one.

It was more bearable.

Everything about you became toned down. Spending time together was less of a pain in the neck, and over time, he started caring about you, little by little.

He started noticing your favorite things, like, for example, your favorite desserts, flowers, places to converse, color, toys, and even down to the accessories you liked to adorn yourself with.

Your cute mannerisms and habits that he can't help but lightly tease at. "Why do you do such things..?" He said, a bit too loud.

"Do what?" You asked, confused.

He wiped away a spot of whipped cream on your cheek and licked it. Watching your face blush in embarrassment was sure worth the move he pulled. Even if he was 13 at the time.

As both of you grew up, he'd soon see how people reacted around you. He sure saw the difference. You turned more beautiful as you matured in age. Your personality grew, and your smile was more bright. He wanted to be the only one to notice these changes and monopolize it for himself, but everyone else around you could now see it. First, your childhood friend. The son of a low ranking Earl. He thought of nothing with him, but he did annoy him. His consistent pestering and hopeless looks made you always include him in your dates.

He absolutely took in the fact that the boy always looked at him with disdain and envy. And he did as well. His close bond with you, and how close he could get to you without you making a fuss, fumed him.

But once you got older, everyone, and he felt everyone started to take notice of you. Men staring at your maturing body with eyes full of lust, women staring with jealousy, children taking notice of your pretty face, and the consistent flirting from everyone, and he felt like everyone.

Men bumping into you, "supposedly on accident," and striking up a conversation, you looked bored in. Women stealing your attention with the gossip of the nobility and even flirting themselves. Children always begging and crying for attention if you did not provide enough for them. He was sick of it.

The son of a small count was always consistently flirting with you. Asking about your day, favorite color, favorite jewels, hobbies, it was almost as if he had forgotten you had a fiance right next to you.

He couldn't help but say a couple of threats towards him, and when that didn't work, he planned for his carriage to be ran into, paying the driver to run away to another country with 10,000 gold paid for him.

But he wasn't the only one. Many men of lowly rank kept on coming, and he threatened them. If that didn't work, they mysteriously died in the next few days. All evidence of the perpetrator, erased from sight.

He could get rid of all of his enemies, but 2. Her childhood best friend and the war hero turned personal guard.

The son of an Earl was sneaky, cunning, and someone whose death would greatly affect her. She would be broken before he ever got the chance to be with her. And the personal guard. A war hero. Someone who is well versed in strength and is not shaken by mere threats he could ever make.

Nothing ever seemed to work to get rid of them, other than the fact that he was your fiancé. So all he needed to do was shower you with love (which he already did and is currently doing). He gives you gifts of jewels, books and stuff for your hobbies, he always has his hand around your waist when out and about. He is always watching what you do. He listen in on your conversations, whether they be rants, boring or awkward small talk. And most of all, he is always here when he can be.

But he was surprised when you all of the sudden brought up annulment.

You had wanted to annul your engagement with him.

He spent all night after such a ground-breaking announcement, awake and thinking of all the possibilities of why you would ever want to break off your engagement with him. All he could think of were the 2 men who were close to you.

"It's all their faults...I need to marry her soon..." he mumbled as he got up and got a paper, pen and his favorite quill.

A/N: Should I do the other guys? This is connected to my previous post so I hoped you enjoyed it. Sorry it took so long to post another story.

[comfortless]

God könig and his only worshipper who doesn't try to get him more followers cause she wants all of his attention on her

another strange vaguely Greek/Roman au?! ^^ (also to your other message: no worries!! being too nice would make me lazy!) this prompt is like a reversal of this and i am here for it!

content/warnings: suggestive, König may or may not have killed some guy no big deal..!

It isn’t as if he bestows great blessings upon you or grants your deepest, most guarded wishes…

It’s just that he’s lovely in all forms: the very apex of some marbelesque, masculine statue made flesh. Warm to the touch and so very real and alive that it was difficult to focus on worshiping him proper when your very being sang for him.

He’s probably only some great god of war, Ares, but without the long list of lovers and offspring - only you. There was nothing that he could do to benefit you much, just a humble citizen that had no need of taking up a weapon…

Yet he was so heart achingly beautiful with the docile look in his eyes, the contrast to his stature that bore the look of a proper hunter, you could not keep yourself from returning to him.

All of the other men in the city pale in comparison to the god you pray to, nestled up in the foothills where you make your trek day by day to speak… knowing that nightly he comes to you in dreams with little glimpses of futures or pasts: the things you can not comprehend yet those in Olympus could parse together with such ease.

As his only worshiper, you are never apart for long.

He descends that mountain each time to meet with you in green meadows with the gentlest look in his eyes.

He has no temple in which to pray to… but, you’ve made a temple of your own within yourself all for him. He knows it, knows well when you pray at your feet and he sheepishly orders you to stop that, stand, face him, and he would lend you his mighty weapon any day if you would just ask for him to use it.

Your god deserves and army of men to fight and scramble for his favor, a harem of women to tend to his needs… but the thought alone is enough to leave bitterness on your tongue.

You don’t want to share him, only savor the honeyed words and touches between the two of you, never muddy what is sacred with another’s prayers or offerings.

… Are yours not already enough?

You only find out that they most certainly are the day a suitor begins his arrogant courtship and… within that very hour he is no longer. A stray spear from the pit pierced right through him…? What a strange way to go out. You don’t even think to question it until you find yourself meandering through soft grass for your meeting with König.

He’s a warrior, too, he should know the intricacies of how a weapon that heavy might rise up on the wind just to strike some poor, silly man down before he could even take your hand and lie with you.

You tell him of this odd occurrence whilst you whittle away at a tiny carving of him with a paring knife, König sat just adjacent to you.

First, he tells you that a blade meant for herbs and vegetables is no good for wood. The dull blade is pried from your hands with ease and tossed aside into the foliage surrounding you both. No need for little idols when your god willingly comes down to grace you, anyhow…

Then, he tells you that… it isn’t fair for you to have eyes for any other. Is his presence not enough? Is he not stronger and more capable than any of your puny, mortal men? He could protect you, haul you up to Olympus and make you his bride, give you as many children as you want… Wouldn’t you like that more?

Your stare is so telling, hands shaking as you set the unfinished figure aside, and the words do not come, not when the look he gives you goes from adoring and sweet to near deadly in an instant. It’s the first time he’s offered to bless you with anything but bloodshed in your favor… a peculiar promise of love in return for your selfishness and gifts of milk and honey…

“I do not think I am worthy of that…” The words come tumbling, clumsy and weighty on your tongue. Could he detect the yearning there..? Surely he knew with the way he invaded your dreaming, and even now as his hand finds your shoulder to push you back down into the soft bed of the earth.

“You wish to make yourself worthy, little one..?”

You only nod, once, as your heart finds its way into your throat and your robe is torn away to flutter out with the wind.

[piscespetals]

Ruin the friendship

summary: you question ellie's feelings + best friends to 'lovers'

word count: about 11k.

content: angst, slow burn, college au, rich!ellie, fluff, mutual pining

this fic was 17k but i just finished editing it after two days, so i hope that it’s pretty decent. happy reading!

You cursed yourself for the feelings you had grown for your best friend, Ellie Williams.

You were fully aware of how inconvenient it was. 

However, you couldn't help it.

Ellie often kept her feelings boarded up, not divulging much of that side of her unless she felt truly comfortable with a person. Therefore, her vulnerability was something that you cherished. She trusted you. A part of her had to care for you, to some capacity, in order for her to be so candid in your presence.

But in addition to the vulnerability, you also appreciated the connection that you fostered with Ellie. It went beyond any typical friendship; it went beyond any relationship that you ever had with anyone. You couldn't help but love that you could be completely vulnerable with Ellie without shame. You loved the way that she stared intently when listening. It didn’t seem to matter how silly your conversations could sometimes be–Ellie was always there to listen.

She had a way of making your worries fade away. Whenever you two spent time together, nothing else was possibly worth your attention. So, of course, you eventually forced yourself to acknowledge these feelings. Because said feelings were not emotions that you usually had for your other friends.

You sometimes believed that you were silly for having hope. 

There had been moments when you felt as if Ellie was staring longer than necessary, or touched you a bit too often—and certainly more intimately—than normal friends would. But that thought was always discarded when you two were no longer alone—when you were shoved back into the world of Ellie’s friends—and you remembered that she was quite affectionate with every platonic connection that she cared deeply for.

You would be lying if you didn't admit that you often grew jealous. You wanted to be the only person that held Ellie's attention in a special way. It was ridiculous and selfish. But it was true.

You didn’t personally have anything against Ellie’s friends. They couldn’t help their charisma and nepotism status. They couldn't help their tall height, gazelle-like legs, and international fame.

They couldn't help any of it.

But just because they couldn't help it, didn't mean that you didn't feel any less threatened. You weren’t as graceful as them and certainly didn't feel as magnetic. You liked normalcy and everything that came with it. 

Most importantly, you were the opposite of what they were. Frugal, sarcastic, mostly indifferent, somewhat cynical and (as your sister liked to say) 'annoyingly aloof'. You liked keeping a low profile—again, quite the opposite of Ellie’s crowd—and to go with the flow.

The first few times that you hung out with Ellie’s friends, you overheard them voicing your behavior as “arrogant” and “stiff.”

"She's just quiet." Ellie had said in defense. "She only speaks if she’s close to you or if it's absolutely necessary."

And it took a while for her friends to believe that. 

You didn't think that this was because you were some extraordinary person who was different and 'not like the others'. In fact, it was the complete opposite. You were quite ordinary, and content with how average you truly were. But because of this, there was a cultural difference between you and Ellie’s friends. The two worlds were so different, that it was hard to bond. You all were merely acquaintances, connected by a mutual friend. 

You couldn't help but ponder over this as you arrived at Ellie’s home and rang the doorbell.

The door swung open, creaking because the rusty bolts had yet to be fixed. Ellie was wearing a pair of sweats and a gray cotton t-shirt. She was languid, a sign that she'd just woken up, with sleepy eyes and a lazy grin.

"How many times," She drawled slowly, voice thick with sleep. "...Do I have to tell you-"

"Not to ring the doorbell." You mumbled, bored by the same conversation that repeated every Sunday. "Well, judging by your appearance, it seems like a doorbell is the only way you would have answered." You sent your friend a level glance. "It's 3 pm. How much longer were you planning on sleeping in?"

Her grin widened. "Until you showed up."

You hummed lowly, already allowing your attention span to drift away as you stepped through the doorway. Ellie barely moved to the side, causing you to brush against her, which sent an electric jolt through you.

Just when you felt yourself recovering from her touch, you were overwhelmed by the familiar smell of her. Her natural scent was always comforting; a smell of peppermint and soap, an indication that Ellie was becoming deeply domesticated. 

Soon enough, she was locking the entrance door, which caused you to snap out of her thoughts. Feeling incredibly hot in that moment, you heaved a sigh, slipping off your jacket and shoes immediately.

The slight hum of the T.V filled the atmosphere, along with the distant whooshing! of the dishwasher from the kitchen.

"El," You mumbled.

Her hand rested on your lower back, ushering you down the entrance hallway and towards the living room. You shivered at the touch. 

"Hm?" Ellie answered, breath tickling your ear. 

"Why am I here?"

"It's Sunday."

"Yes." You nodded slowly. "But I mean," You swallowed, trying to sort through your thoughts. "You have so many other friends you could spend your Sundays with."

"I don't want to spend Sundays with my other friends. I want to spend them with you." 

Ellie’s hand was slipping from your lower back as you finally stepped into the living room. You left her in an attempt to control your racing heart, grabbing a folded blanket before plopping onto the couch. 

"What's all of this about?" She continued. "I always spend Sundays with you."

You nibbled on your bottom lip, thinking deeply about what to say, how to form it into correct sentences, before finally deciding to give up.

Ellie tried to ignore the flutter in her heart as she stared at you. She knew that you'd established their friendship long ago, but she couldn't help but let her mind drift when you looked the way that you do. 

Friendzoned or not, there was no denying that you were beautiful. Your skinned glowed in the hues of the sunlight, eyes tender and observant, plump lips pulled into a pout—and slightly raw from your constant biting.

There was so much that Ellie wanted to do to you. It made her core stir, tugging at the explicit thoughts that ran through her mind. It took great difficulty for her to gaze at you without feeling inappropriate. 

"If you take a picture, it’ll last longer." You placidly stated, finally breaking the silence. You blinked at her through thick lashes, expression bored.

Ellie’s gaze lingered on your lips before trailing to the rest of you. She wondered how someone so gorgeous could possibly be walking around on Earth without anyone worshiping you. But a wave of appreciation filled her as well. You weren't taken—not yet. She had time. 

You were sporting dark gray leggings and a yellow top. The shirt was one of Ellie’s favorites, something that was accidentally mentioned in passing during a night of movie marathons and endless wine. 

The stretchy, cotton material hugged your legs tightly, highlighting the curve of your hips and thighs. Ellie didn't want to stare too long—she tried her best to be polite with you—so instead, she looked away.

You felt like you could breathe once her gaze was elsewhere. Usually, you loved to have Ellie's undivided attention. A lurch always appeared in your gut and your palms would clam up. However, Ellie had a way about her that could be intense. It was hard for you to read her at times; to understand what she was thinking or why she analyzed you so deeply. So instead, you were often left feeling self-conscious and flustered, which were emotions that never sat well with you.

Your mouth watered when Ellie finally plopped down beside you. You got another whiff of her scent, which caused your eyes to flutter and your heart to jump in your throat. 

You just loved how fresh her entire being was.

Ellie never smelled like a particular perfume. Just newly washed linens and soap, and a hint of peppermint that would waft in her home. She also had an appearance that made her appear fresh. Her skin was always smooth, makeup minimal to highlight the freckles that dotted her face. Her nails remained perfectly trimmed. Overall, Ellie just looked neat and clean; simple. It was attractive.

She was pretty organized. By all means, Ellie's place was never spotless. But her mess was an organized mess. She kept everything folded; dirty clothes designated to one area, comic books stacked in another. The air was always being cleansed with purifiers and fresheners, candles constantly burning, carpet soft and vaccummed. Ellie was the sort of person that kept the pillows fluffed and encouraged coaster usage. She liked to “neatly” pile the dirty dishes in the sink by way of a special order. And she never liked anyone to step inside her home without removing their shoes.

Ellie didn't say anything further on the subject as she momentarily lifted the blanket off of you, crawling under and scooting close.

"It's cold." She mumbled, keeping her gaze on the television.

You smiled softly, heart erupting when her delicate fingers played with yours, before she finally intertwined your hands.

~

"Is that Ellie?" Danielle asked, nudging you. You both were at your campus cafe, sitting comfortably at the lounge with your school work and iced coffee. You were dressed in cotton sweats and a navy blue crewneck. The pants were rolled up to your knees, a makeshift pair of baggy capris, as you absentmindedly tugged at the collar of your crewneck sweater, peering down at your psychology homework with furrowed brows. 

But your attention was diverted the moment that Danielle mentioned Ellie. You snapped your head up, scanning the room lazily before your eyes landed on her. 

There she was, walking towards you both in dark washed skinny jeans, a black tee and worn converse. The sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, displaying her tattooed forearms.

"She’s hot." Danielle added, gawking at your friend. "I always forget how good looking she is."

You snorted at that, but deep down you couldn't help but agree. 

You knew how attractive Ellie was. Hell—you wish that you could just forget about her looks for one single second. You missed the early days of the friendship, the days when you could glance at her without wanting to kiss her breathless. The days where you didn't feel the absolute need to always have her skin against yours. Those were the times of simplicity; of ease. 

“Now I won't be able to focus.” Danielle whispered. You threw an amused glance towards her, suppressing a giggle. "She’s kinda intimidating." Danielle voiced. "But mean women are hot as fuck. So."

Your lips pulled together at the comment, trying to ignore the thick rush of jealousy that filled you. 

But you couldn't really blame Danielle.

Ellie was always prancing around with the aesthetic of a Vans poster model; sporting her button-ups and undershirts and beat up sneakers. 

And her jeans.

God—those jeans.

Not a day passed when they didn't hug her thighs in a way that had your mouth watering, wishing you were kneeled in front of her. Ellie had a habit of rolling up her sleeves, showing off her ink-filled forearms that were constantly decorated with veins. She was a fucking dream.

When Ellie arrived, she pecked your cheeks in greeting. Then she turned to Danielle, kissing her cheek as well which caused a flustered expression to fall over Danielle’s face.

"Being a good student, I see." Ellie observed, plopping down on the couch. Her thigh brushed against your right. You became painfully aware of her close proximity and wanted to do nothing more than sprawl out and lay your head in her lap. But Ellie wasn't the type for PDA, and you knew doing that probably wasn't appropriate anyways.

"I have an exam coming up." You sighed, glancing down at the bulky textbook in your lap. 

Your mind felt overloaded with facts. You didn't know how much longer you should study. It was important to take breaks and not over prepare; this was something that you were aware of. But your test-anxiety always caused you to stress over school material more than you should.

Ellie hummed, grabbing the textbook and closing it. "You look like you're going to pass out so enough of this." She set it on the coffee table a few feet away.

"I've been trying to stop her," Danielle interjected. "She gets paranoid during exams."

"Yeah, I know." Ellie chuckled, shooting you a small smile. 

"I can't afford to flunk anything." You countered. "I need to keep my grades up for my scholarship."

Ellie looked at you, gaze unwavering. "You're a smart girl. I'm sure you'll be fine."

Your mind swam at the compliment. You knew her words shouldn't hold much significance, but you couldn't help feeling slightly light headed whenever Ellie complimented you.

You forced your gaze away. Nervously, you played with the hem of your shorts, mouth pooling with saliva and heart hammering in your chest. What exactly should you say?

It felt silly to be so speechless.

"Well, I have to go." Danielle announced reluctantly.

"Are you sure?" Your eyebrows knitted together.

"Yeah, I have a crap ton of errands to run." Danielle began throwing her textbooks into her backpack. "I'll see ya later. And nice running into you again, Ellie." Danielle made a show of her departure. When she picked up her bag, she leaned over in a way that caused her cleavage to pour out of her shirt and for her ass to round in Ellie’s view. Her fingers wiggled as she waved at Ellie, eyelashes batting and smile coy.

You tried to contain your smile, seeing straight through Danielle’s ruse. If only you had as much confidence as her...

Soon, it was only you and Ellie on the couch. Ellie blinked in amusement, registering the pass that Danielle had openly made. She only met Nicole a handful of times and each encounter seemed to become more flirtatious than the last. Maybe if Ellie wasn't already interested in you, things would be different. But Danielle certainly wasn't you, and the simple reality was that you took up a considerable amount of Ellie’s heart. 

Meanwhile, you found yourself worrying about the opposite. Did Ellie like Danielle? Of course you didn't want to have these thoughts infiltrating your mind. But that was the problem with crushes; they caused you to overanalyze everything.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you blinked solemnly. Dread planted a seed in your gut, growing with each passing second.

Now, you were disappointed and even a bit sad.

Why couldn't you fall for people that returned your feelings?

~

"I did it." You mumbled, voice thick with disbelief, as you stared down at your phone screen. A bold 88% sat in front of you, causing your lips to pull into a proud smile.

A shocked exhale escaped your lips, eyes staring at the website that showed your final test scores—scores that you were incredibly proud of. 

Ellie shuffled beside you, pausing the TV show with a frown. Her heart jumped out of her chest as she continuously asked you, “What’s wrong,” yet received no reply. 

Did something bad happen?

"I did it." You parroted, this time a bit louder than before and with more confidence. A surprised laugh left you, breathy and short, as you willed yourself to hand Ellie your phone. "I aced all of my finals." You explained.

Slowly, her features morphed into realization. Her eyebrows shot up, a soft grin appearing as she dragged her green eyes to you. "That's great! I told you, didn't I?” Her grin widened. She swiped through your phone, glancing at a few more scores. “I’m so proud of you.”

Oh…

Fuck.

You shifted your weight. There was a sudden desire to leap forward and kiss her until you couldn't breathe. Your thighs clenched and your blinks were becoming rapid. You didn't know what to say without making it awkward—because you could never take compliments well—and also not wanting to make a fool of yourself. 

You laughed instead, trying your best to ignore your stuttering heart. Ellie tended to lay her compliments on thick, so you should be used to it by now. But you still stirred with delight nonetheless.

"I don't know. I mean, now that I think about it, not all of them are perfect scores."

"That doesn't matter. You should be proud of yourself. College is fucking hard." Ellie rubbed a palm against her forehead. "I always think about an alternate universe where I might have gone. But then again, I was never really passionate about dreadful schoolwork and the possible debt so who knows. Maybe it's best that I've taken a route like this."

You tried to picture Ellie in school, or at least a younger version of Ellie there. 

You smiled, "I think you would have done just fine." You admitted honestly. "The younger you probably would have liked the parties and sorority girls a little too much though."

"Yeah?" She laughed, eyes crinkling and laugh lines deepening. "What about me now?"

You paused, trying to filter through your thoughts. You hugged your legs to your chest, resting your chin on your knees as you hummed absentmindedly. Ellie thought you looked exceptionally cute while doing so.

“I could see you as an Engineering major. Or maybe Computer Science?" You observed. "....There's a few men I know with that major—kinda cocky, pompous, annoyingly charming and whatnot. You know....sort of like you."

"Hey!" She laughed breathlessly, slamming a pillow into your face.

"Don't take offense." You giggled. "I was just kidding about the charming part." 

“Fuck. You.” She laughed harder, ramming you with the pillow again. This time, more aggressive.

You stifled your cackles, biting down on your lip. Ellie found herself focusing on them, and how lovely it would be if she could kiss them. She wanted to lean forward and crash her lips against yours with bruising force, to make you squirm for air and cause your lips to swell. 

But she behaved herself, chewing the inside of her cheek instead.

Out of a state of pure adrenaline, you allowed yourself to say, "You're Ellie fucking Williams. You're way cooler than anyone that goes to my college."

"Except for you." Her lips stretched into a cheeky grin. Before she could stop herself, she brushed her forefinger against your chin endearingly. "You’re more brilliant than I’ll ever be."

“Very smooth.” You mused, rolling your eyes as you tried to shake off the compliment. But internally, your insides were knotting with agonizing pleasure.

~

You didn't usually do this.

You tried to deal with problems on your own. You tried to stay silent about them and fight through your emotions in silence. But you were tired of always being 'strong'.

You were tired of never asking for help.

Sometimes, you needed people to lean on. Sometimes, it was okay to let others comfort you. So this was why you showed up to Ellie's home late in the night. 

You suffered from insomnia. You always had it since childhood, and there were certain times throughout the year where it got really bad. It seemed to be exacerbated now since this was your fourth night going through hours without any true sleep.

Your heart was racing, overworked and tired from your lack of rest. A tightening began to form in your temples, alerting you that a migraine was about to creep up, and your eyes were dry. Your body moved languidly and with an alarming rate of exhaustion. You could sleep for eons if only you were given the chance.

You just wanted to be able to rest without a care in the world. To get through your day without terrible bags and heavy eyelids.

So when your clock struck 4am, your first instinct was to call Ellie. You didn't give yourself enough time to think about it or to even negotiate the consequences of calling her so early. 

It took her a while to answer, but when she did, her voice was thick and raspy.

Ellie sounded as if she’d just woken from a deep slumber; voice cracking and speech slow. "What is it?" She mumbled, exhaling softly.

Your brain was running a mile a minute as you talked to her.

"No, you're not a bother. It's okay, I promise it is." She reassured, interrupting your string of apologies. She talked to you for a little while longer, about everything and nothing at all, before she finally said, "Come over. You can sleep with me. Hopefully, it'll help…for tonight, at least."

You were hesitant. You didn't want to impose and it'd been a while since you and Ellie had slept in the same house.

But Ellie wasn't back down and with the passing seconds, she was becoming increasingly adamant about you coming to her. You finally gave in.

Fifteen minutes later, you were standing on her porch, opting for a knock instead of the jarring doorbell that you normally rang.

A few seconds passed before you heard the sounds of the bolts unlocking. Then the door was swinging open. Ellie stood before you, wearing boxers and a tank top. Her hair was messy and sticking in different directions, and her eyes were halfway closed.

"Hey." She whispered, stepping to the side and allowing you in. 

You were relieved to see her, finally feeling at ease for the first time in days.

That's what you loved about Ellie. Her presence always seemed to calm you.

Immediately, you slipped off your shoes, allowing her to grab your hand.

"I'm so tired." You replied, wanting nothing more than to close your eyes and stay asleep for eternity.

When you glanced at Ellie, you noticed the concern that filled her features. Her lips were pulled into a frown, faint worry lines becoming prevalent on her forehead. "I know." She sighed, not happy by her confession.

Ellie wished she could take away your struggles in times like these. You’d briefly opened up to her before about your insomnia. 

Silently, Ellie guided you through her house. The lights remained off, the pathway being illuminated by night lights and the glow of the moon. 

Your tongue was heavy in your mouth. You didn't have the energy to participate in conversation, especially if it was just empty words to fill the silence. You simply wanted to enjoy Ellie’s presence and the feeling of her firm grip around your hand.

You could sense that Ellie was exhausted too by her lack of communication. You felt bad for waking her up at such an ungodly hour, and made a mental note to thank her for everything. She truly was the best friend you ever had. 

~

A sigh escaped your mouth as you stared at your reflection in the mirror, rubbing your skin gingerly with a face wipe.

You tried to get all of the sleep out of your eyes, feeling a bit groggy from the deep slumber that you’d just woken up from. You were sitting on the carpet in front of Ellie’s full body mirror, trying not to look gross for the sake of sparing her eyes. You had just showered, wearing a pair of Ellie’s shirt and boxers, and tried not to become extremely giddy at the fact that you were wearing her clothes. 

But every few minutes, you would be reminded of it and your heart would perform a short dance break.

Even though this was simply another sleepover, it still caused a wave of excitement to fill you. You liked mornings like these; mornings with Ellie.

You rubbed your lips with chapstick, blinking lazily until something caught your attention.

Ellie was still in bed, trying not to be too obvious about watching you, who could easily pass for her girlfriend right now. She wanted to wake up next to you everyday.

She struggled to tear her gaze away from your face, whose eyes were glazed over and half closed. It was apparent that you were still adjusting to being awake.

This was a dream come true for Ellie. You just spent a night in her bed, and now you were wearing her clothes while getting ready in front of her mirror. You looked completely domesticated at this moment. 

Even though she knew it wasn't true, and that you didn't feel that way about her, it was still nice to pretend sometimes that you were hers. Especially during mornings like this.

You were so beautiful that it physically hurt her. 

"Did I do something wrong?" You grumbled, still a bit slighted due to waking up from such a good dream. You peered at Ellie through the mirror, noticing that she’d been observing you for quite some time now. A small part of you was thrilled and wanted to jump for joy. 

Right now, Ellie seemed to be completely transfixed with you and you were loving every single second of it.

But there was also a part of you that was growing self conscious. Ellie was in one of those moods again. The kind of mood that was slightly unnerving because she was picking apart every one of your features without shame. You knew that she probably didn't mean any harm by it, but Ellie wasn't aware of how intimidating her stare could truly be. 

"No." Ellie smiled. "You're just pretty."

You managed to hold her gaze for a few seconds longer. You felt like your breath had been ripped away from you. Goosebumps formed on your skin and a slight shiver ran down your spine.

"Yeah, well,” You cleared your throat, searching through your purse. “If you take a picture, it’ll last longer." You didn’t know what encouraged you to say the next part, but you chalked it up to the weird morning air that was lingering in the room. "....Actually, I’ll take some specifically for you. Since you like to stare." 

Ellie was aware that you were joking. But it still made her heart race. The image of you taking pictures for her burned into her brain. The context seemed to be pure on your end, but her thoughts traveled to a land of the filthiest scenarios. 

Ellie's lips parted, body washing over with a searing heat. Her hands itched to touch you, and ears longed to hear her name fall from your lips as well as a string of other sounds.

But this was completely inappropriate.

Here you were, looking as innocent as ever, and yet she was dreaming about some raunchy sex scene and tasteful photos of you.

Definitely inappropriate.

Your smile faltered at the weird expression that spread across Ellie’s face. You noticed the veins bulging through the skin of her arms as her hands clenched into fists. Her piercing gaze lingered on you unabashedly, landing on every inch of your features before returning back to your eyes.

You cleared your throat, feeling a warmth pool in between your thighs as you pulled at your shirt collar.

Shit. You were ruining Ellie’s boxers.

"I’ll hold you to that,” Ellie finally replied. “You just have to let me know when and where.”

You blinked in surprise as your lips pinched together, breath catching.

Did you just hear her correctly?

A second passes.

Then two.

Then three.

Ellie forced out a laugh, breaking the silence and trying not to cringe. Oops. Coming on a bit too strong. "Well, gee, don't look so excited." She’s such a fucking idiot. "I was just joking."

Your shoulders relaxed. You swallowed thickly, not failing to notice the aftertaste of disappointment. "Oh." 

Of course it was just a joke. How could you ever allow yourself to believe that Ellie would ever be remotely interested in you?

A small piece of your heart chipped away as you turned back to the mirror.

~

You didn't understand why Ellie was being like this.

You tried to ignore the sound of soft clicks and her pressing gaze. Instead, you busied yourself with socializing. Your toes were dipped in Ellie’s pool, sunglasses resting in your lap with a glass of wine in your hands. The water was heated to accommodate the weather and you were a bit too tipsy to slip into it altogether, but it did feel nice against your skin. Your eyes cut to Ellie who was holding an expensive camera. 

She focused on you without any shame, chewing her lip thoughtfully. She clicked away with the camera and captured countless candids. Ellie had a habit of doing this with other friends but she always wanted to specifically take photos of you.

There was a phase during Ellie’s adolescence when she was constantly capturing memories in a photo, and this hobby seemed to have trickled into the time that she now spent with her friends. She had taken numerous photos this past summer, which sat on her computer, ready to be edited and printed so it could be compiled into a scrapbook that would feed her nostalgia in future years.

But tonight was different, because she had never done this with you before. It held a different sentiment that didn't exist with others. Somehow, because of you, it made everything more intimate; more personal.

Ellie struggled with nimble fingers as she clicked a few more pictures, capturing the way you glanced over with surprised eyes and parted lips. 

"I'll be right back." You stammered, turning to Rachel. 

Rachel nodded knowingly while glancing at Ellie. "She can be a bit annoying with that thing—always trying to capture memories and whatnot."

You hummed in agreement, stepping out of the pool and standing to your feet. You kept your gaze locked on the floor as you made your way over to Ellie, not having the courage to meet her demanding gaze.

The chair scraped against the concrete as you pulled it out and sat in it. Silence filled the air, your thighs slightly trembling before you crossed your legs.

Ellie took this as an opportunity…

Click!

The sound broke the atmosphere, causing your head to snap up. Your jaw fell slack, before a fit of giggles escaped your lips. "Ellie!" You reprimanded, trying to reach forward and grab the camera.

She tutted her tongue, smiling ruefully. "Don't give me that look."

"You're being annoying!" You squealed. She was far from annoying. "...At least capture my good angles."

Ellie held the camera out of your grasp. "You always look good."

"You're supposed to say that, dummy. We're friends."

"Let’s be real,” Ellie muttered, sending you a level glance. “No matter the angle or time of day, you’d look fine.”

You puffed out your cheeks as you shook your head. You were averting your gaze, trying to suppress a smile—and failing. "You're really annoying." You grumbled, folding your arms across your chest.”You know that, right?”

Ellie grinned, bringing her camera back up to her face. She didn't say anything further.

The clicking resumed.

~

"Will you do the eyeliner?" Rachel asked, turning to you. "Brittany is calling me for something."

Your lips parted as you blinked in a drunken state. "I'm not good at makeu-"

But Rachel was already walking away, "Thanks so much!" And then she was shutting the door on her way out, leaving you and Ellie in the room.

You sighed, taking a sip of your wine before setting it down on Ellie’s bedroom dresser. Your eyelids felt heavy. You tried to walk but nearly tripped, forgetting that you had clunky heels attached to your feet. Groaning, you kneeled down to slip them off, almost toppling over.

A hand wrapped around your waist firmly, steadying you as you tried to gain your bearings. 

"Careful there." Ellie murmured, voice low. Her touch left a tingling sensation against your skin. 

You clenched your jaw, attempting to ignore your shudders as you stood upright.

Then you glanced down at Ellie, who was sitting in one of her chairs, peering back with amusement.

"You're drunk." Ellie analyzed. 

"You are too." 

She hummed. "Touché."

You reached over and grabbed a tube of liquid eyeliner. You didn't trust yourself to use a solid pencil; you had never done this before and didn't want to hurt Ellie.

"Just..." You breathed. "Try not to move or blink as much." You rested the ends of your palms against her temples before starting. Your hands trembled and the lines were nowhere near straight. You felt the urge to wipe it all off and start over. You remembered the dot technique that you learned years ago, but it almost felt too late to retry.

"Are you having fun?" Ellie asked. Her breath was cool. "Everyone seems to be warming up to y-Ow!"

Your heart stopped. You dropped the pen, allowing it to fall to the floor as you reached forward, "Oh, I'm so sorry!" You winced. 

Ellie’s eye was already beginning to bloodshot as it poured with instinctive tears.

"It's fine." She tried to reassure, squinting her eye shut.

"Clearly it's not." You frowned, dipping down closer. "I knew I shouldn't have done this. I'm really sorry." You blew on Ellie’s eye, trying to dry the teardrops and ease the pain. Why were you always screwing things up? A frown formed on your lips.

"Don't beat yourself up. It was just a few pokes. I'll be fine eventually." Ellie reassured. She fluttered her eyes open, trying to readjust to the throbbing pain and sudden silence.

You then noticed how close her face was. One simple move could cause her nose to brush against yours—could make your lips meet. The sparkle in Ellie’s eyes was undeniable. 

You didn’t think you’d ever been in such close proximity with your best friend. This was making your stomach turn.

Without thinking, Ellie grabbed a hold of your chin, acting on impulse. Her gaze narrowed to your lips. She grazed the lower one with her thumb, pressing gently; feeling your cool breath against the pad of her finger.

Your breathing faltered. You couldn't help but lean into her touch, sighing at the contact.

The both of your foreheads met, noses brushing and lips only millimeters apart.

Ellie’s other hand found its way to your hip. You complied immediately, straddling her in a way that left the both of your chests touching.

Your hands trembled nervously. You swallowed, "Are you going to kiss me?"

Ellie licked her lips, admiring how delicate you seemed in this moment. 

"I want to." There was a pause. "But it's best if we wait."

Your mind swarmed so much that you had to remind yourself to respond. "I guess you're right."

There's a lapse of silence.

One second passed. Then two.

Then three. 

By the fifth, you had noticed a slight shift in her expression. Her jaw was locked, nose flared and eyes fixed completely on you. She was restraining herself and you couldn't figure out why—you didn't allow yourself to accept the glaringly obvious reason.

You didn’t want to give into the false hope.

You couldn't.

You shouldn't…

Ellie was shaking her head.

Why the fuck was she shaking her head?

She was inching forward. Coming closer. Too close. Much too close.

“Ellie…” You whispered, eyes widening. 

She stopped, eyes trailing up to meet your stare. “I won't if you don't want me to.”

You swallowed, mouth dry. Your heart felt like it was in your throat, unprotected—entirely too vulnerable.

Her grip on your hips tightened, thumbs rubbing into the skin; reminding you that the ball was in your court. 

You leaned forward and closed the distance.

Ellie’s mind fell blank when your lips pressed against hers. She tried to ground herself—to remember how real this actually was.

It wasn’t a dream.

She melted when you sucked her bottom lip with expertise. Her blood rushed, toes curling at the exhilarating feeling of your mouth claiming her.

The kiss turned hungrier, becoming a mixture of heavy breathing and forceful tugs. 

Ellie's mind reeled at this position; the fact that you were in her lap and doing something that she never thought was possible. 

Her mind became hazy as her stomach pulled. Then, almost as if she had been slapped back into reality, you broke away, allowing you both to catch your breath.

It was quiet for a few moments as you came to a realization of what just happened.

You felt yourself sobering up, eyes widening in afterthought.

Ellie gazed back, heart hammering as she struggled to think of what to say.

Holy shit. 

Oh god.

Oh god.

She opened her mouth before closing it. She opened it once again, closing it seconds later in apprehension. Her hands fell from your waist, allowing you to stand with shaky legs. You blinked in bewilderment, trying to come to your senses. But it was a bit harder than usual after what had just occurred.

"I-" You stopped yourself, exhaling softly.

"We just..."

Her eyes kept zeroing in on your lips. Your soft, gentle lips. 

“Come back.” Ellie whispered.

You didn't have to be asked twice.

Without any hesitation, you were grabbing a hold of Ellie’s neck, leaning in for another kiss. It made the position a bit awkward, forcing you to bend down and hover slightly over her. But Ellie didn't mind. She didn't mind this at all…

Ellie relished in the sound of your delicate sighs. She loved the way that you were falling apart in front of her. She clinged to you tightly, pressing you further into her lap, which created the perfect amount of friction. She was determined to not let go. She didn't want to ever let go. 

You whimpered, allowing her to guide you as you grinded against her.

Her lips refocused on your neck, biting and licking softly as you cooed. It was becoming harder to breathe, harder to think soundly about everything that was happening. Wine drunk was one thing but this kind of intoxication was unreal. You were completely high off of Ellie.

Your mind reeled at this predicament—at the fact that you were in her lap, getting each other off in the most premature way possible. You felt like an adolescent who was stupidly hormonal with your girlfriend. But you couldn't complain, because it beat daydreaming about Ellie’s hands in your panties.

Your mind became hazy as a pressure in your gut built. Ellie’s hands, and Ellie’s lips, and Ellie’s smell, and Ellie’s breath.

Ellie.

You’re best friend, Ellie.

Your Ellie.

"Okay, I'm back! Sorry about that, I..." 

You breath hitched. You pulled away immediately as Rachel stormed into the room. Shit.

Ellie’s hand fell into her lap. She flushed at the sudden interruption, averting her gaze to the floor and cursing Rachel internally. Why did she always appear at the worst times?

"Oh!”  Rachel grinned, looking at the both of you with a smug expression. She laughed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Sorry, did I interrupt something?"

Ellie's jaw clenched. She cut her eyes to Rachel irritably, which caused Rachel to become even more amused.

“No,” You replied. “It’s—”

“Should I come back later?” Rachel added. Her grin had widened, voice thick with amusement. She was enjoying this a bit too much.

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Yes. You absolutely should fucking come back late-”

“It’s okay.” Your hands were trembling, an overwhelming sense of doom settling over you at the situation you were now in. “I was just leaving actually.”

“So soon?” Rachel raised an eyebrow. You ignored Ellie’s pressing gaze. “I don’t mind leaving-”

“That’s not necessary.” Your voice was breathy and rushed. 

Ellie called your name. You ignored her.

“I’ll see you guys later,” You added.

“Wait, are you sure?” Rachel sounded more alarmed now. “Seriously, I can step ou-”

But you didn't stay to hear any more, rushing out of the bedroom and away from Ellie as quickly as you could.

~

You didn't want to admit that you’d been avoiding Ellie. In all honesty, you usually were never the type to dismiss awkward situations. You liked to handle them immediately and move on with your life. But that wasn’t what you were doing now.

You spent a few days trying to process it all. You didn't think you were completely oblivious. You may have had your moments, but for the most part you liked to believe that you could pick up on romantic cues. So if you weren't mistaken, it almost seemed as if Ellie was interested in you. But you also weren't sure how to feel about it because the both of you were drinking, and alcohol could make you act like an entirely different person. 

A sigh escaped your lips as you stared at your phone, analyzing the text thread between you and Ellie for the nth time today. You missed her.

Going from consistent communication to none was a lot for you to deal with. But you just weren't sure you could handle a conversation with her right now.

You didn't want to do anything to jeopardize the friendship. So, needless to say, you’d been stressed about where the two of you stood.

After a few more agonizing seconds, you finally had the courage to turn your phone off.

You didn't need to be tormenting yourself like this.

~

Ellie missed you.

She missed your daily good morning messages and infectious laughter. She missed your dry humor and warm hugs.

She knew that she’d have to clear the air about what happened a few days ago. She understood that she shouldn't ignore what happened that night. It was just that she didn't want to talk about this yet. Not now. She wasn't ready.

She was still trying to process it all; how eager you were—the fact that you seemed to want the kiss as much as she did.

But Ellie also had to acknowledge the fact that you both were drunk. Hormones and alcohol can sometimes be the worst combination. 

Too many thoughts ran through her mind, leaving her groaning in frustration as she dragged her hands down her face.

She felt an urge to call you; to invite you over for dinner. To hold your hand and joke about whatever predictable soap opera you liked to watch.

But Ellie didn't do that. Instead, she grabbed her songbook and walked over to her guitar, beginning to play a melody on the strings that had been repeating in her head for days.

~

"Hey."

Your mouth felt dry as you shifted your weight, blinking at Ellie with expectant eyes. Like always, the both of you hugged before stepping back into Ellie’s house.

You slipped off your sandals immediately, arranging them neatly by the coat hanger before shrugging off your purse.

Ellie smiled at the small habit, already feeling her heart constrict despite being in your presence for less than five minutes. 

The television was on and playing one of your favorite Soap Operas. It helped relax your nerves. You plopped onto the couch and grabbed a blanket before wrapping it around yourself.

Ellie settled on a nearby cushion, eyebrows furrowing as she tried to think of a way to smoothly approach the conversation. She didn't want to scare you away or make you feel pressured during any of this.

Thankfully, you beat her to it.

You peered at her under your lashes, pleased to see that she was already staring at you. You pulled at your fingers, tangling and untangling them, as you grew the courage to say what was on your mind.

"I don't want to lose you as a friend." You started. Your gaze traveled down to Ellie’s lips, which triggered a distinctive memory of that night. Before your thoughts could get carried away, you blinked and diverted your gaze.

"I don't want that either." Ellie agreed.

"Right..." You nodded, clearing your throat. "Well, I know that we were drunk that night and we both value our friendship, so I'm hoping that we can..." You paused, not wanting to say this. 

But there was no other option. 

You had to.

"I think we should act like it never happened." Ignoring the way that Ellie stiffened, you shifted your weight. "And I hope we can still be close friends."

It pained you to come to this conclusion, but after debating for a few days, you felt like this was for the best. You didn't want to get your hopes up and ask for something more because what if Ellie didn't feel the same way? So it was better like this. No feelings would be hurt, and there wouldn't be a chance of ruining something great that you two already had.

Blood rushed in your ears as anticipation built up. You couldn't bring yourself to meet Ellie’s gaze, staring at the carpet instead.

"Um..." She hesitated. The silence was heartbreaking. Oh no.

Was she…

"Okay." Ellie’s voice cracked. She bit the inside of her cheek, hoping the ache would replace the one in her chest. She wanted you to speak more, to change your mind—to do something. But that didn’t happen. 

You nodded, stunned and unsure of where to go from there.

Instead, Ellie just grumbled, "Fuck. Well..."

You blinked in frustration, already feeling the regret gnawing at your subconscious. “Is that okay with you?”

Ellie’s head snapped back up, eyes boring into yours. “Does it matter? You’ve already said that this is what you want.”

“I-I don’t know. I thought…” Your throat was tightening. “Is it not what you want?”

“I…” Ellie was tugging on her shirt collar, voice thin. Her face was becoming red—eyes swimming. Fuck. She looked like she was going to cry. “Look, I respect your boundaries. Thank you for telling me. I’m comfortable with staying friends.” 

A chilling realization was settling within you.

This wasn't the reaction you had anticipated.

This was the opposite.

You may have done more damage than you thought. “Ellie-”

“You're right. We shouldn't complicate things,” She tugged on her collar—harder this time. Your eyes widened at the discolored circular blotches on her neck. How on earth could you forget about any of this when your hickeys marked her skin? 

Your jaw clenched, mouth watering at the delicious memory that had been plaguing your mind since Saturday.

“It’ll be like it never happened,” Ellie finished, standing to her feet. 

You wanted to say something—to stop her. But the words were caught on your tongue, too heavy to leave your mouth.

Too risky. 

Ellie walked out of the living room without  saying anything further.

This was going to be harder than you originally thought.

~

"Shit." Danielle cursed, her features scrunching as she slapped the shot glass back on the table. She shuddered. "That's gross."

You chuckled, swiveling wine in your glass. Personally, You loved the taste of wine. You had champagne a few times as well and didn't mind the aftertaste that it left in your mouth. You believed that it's all about the type of alcohol that you choose. You weren't the type to like hard liquor, so you could understand where your friends' disgust came from. You preferred to keep your taste buds intact while you drank, hence the bottle of red that you ordered.

You were currently at a nightclub, deciding to let loose after a hard week of lectures. You felt a bit stressed. You had a group project that was due soon and you were currently the only one that seemed to be contributing. It had been making you tense and more crabby than usual. Which was exactly why Danielle brought you here.

"...Ellie and her friends showing up?" Danielle asked.

You shrugged. "I thought so. But she was supposed to be here an hour ago."

You also may have been bummed that you hadn't seen your best friend walk through the entrance doors. You’d been waiting all day to see Ellie. Excitement has been building in your gut along with anticipation. 

"Hm. Bummer. I was beginning to like your friend." Danielle sighed. "...Was even contemplating asking for her number."

You shoved your jealousy away with a chuckle.

It wasn't your place to say anything.

You told Ellie you wanted to stay friends.

You weren't allowed to be upset.

You busied yourself with people watching. The air loomed with the smell of sweat and smoke. 

This was an environment that you grew accustomed to during your early college days. Now that you were in the last year of your college career, you’d shifted to partying at your friends' homes. But you still thought it was nice to go out to a club every once in a while.

There was a specific woman that had been glancing at you for a while now. She was cute with a charming smile. Her eyes were kind, and she always seemed to spare a looks towards you while searching the club. You noticed that the girl was with a group of friends, leaning against the bar with one hand holding a beer and the other tucked in her pocket.

You knew that this woman went to the same university because she was wearing one of the student hoodie's. She was also sporting a pair of dark washed jeans and the sort of combat boots that were loud and clunky; scraping against the ground every time that she shifted her weight.

"That girl keeps staring at you." Danielle announced. "And she's cute."

You smiled, tearing your gaze away.

Yeah, she is.

But where the fuck was Ellie?

Danielle raised her hand, waving in the girl's direction to catch her attention.

Your smile dropped, eyes widening as you reached forward and smacked Danielle's hand away. "What are you doing? Are you kidding?"

"Count this as a favor. You two have been ogling each other all night. Oh, look! She's coming over. You're welcome."

Your jaw set. Then you glanced over your shoulder and noticed that the woman was, in fact, making her way over to you. You glared at Danielle coldly. Well, fuck.

Danielle took no offense, finding the entire situation amusing and laughing instead. "You'll thank me later."

You folded your arms across your chest, huffing. "I highly doubt that I will."

Danielle giggled, covering her mouth with her hand to stop a hiccup. You rolled your eyes in annoyance.

"Hi." A voice interrupted. You looked up, facing the woman who had been staring at you all evening. She had an outstretched hand and a smile. "I'm Julia."

You took her hand, returning the grin and introducing yourself.

"Nice to meet you."

"Likewise."

Julia turned out to be a sweet girl. She was a pre-law student and a year younger than you. She looked extremely pleased when she found out that you attended the same school.

"Do you stay on campus?" You asked.

Julia noded. "I do. And you?"

You shook your head no. "I have my own apartment."

Julia's eyebrows raised at that. "That must be nice. The dorms can be annoying with the partying and all." She made a funny expression.

You laughed. "Yeah, I bet."

The both of you talked about numerous things. During the brief pauses, you tried to ignore the suggestive glances that Danielle would send your way. She was purposely being obvious about her teasing, so it was only a matter of time before Julia would notice.

For the most part though, you surprisingly seemed to be enjoying yourself. There was a short lapse in your mind when you weren't thinking about Ellie—thank god—and just enjoying yourself. 

Because of this, you didn't notice Ellie’s arrival. You were too busy laughing at a story that Julia was recounting about your first week of college. 

But Ellie saw you immediately.

~

Ellie felt weird when she observed you laughing with another girl. There was a strong sense of jealousy that was present. Especially when you placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder, throwing your head back slightly and laughing at whatever she was saying.

But she didn't want to be that person, not after the agreement you two made a few days ago, so she tried her best to behave. 

"She's over here." Rachel said, pointing in your direction.

Ellie had only brought a few friends, extending the invite after she asked you if it was okay. She ended up being late because Damien lost his dog. How he lost his pet, Ellie would never know, but after thoroughly searching and comforting a sobbing Damien, she found the poor poodle sleeping in the basement diner. 

Reluctantly, Ellie made her way over to your table. She really wanted to turn around and go back home, especially after seeing you look so cozy with someone else. But she knew that she couldn't, so she opted for lingering behind her friends instead.

You didn't notice Ellie’s presence at first, and was startled when Rachel surprised you with a hug.

"Long time, no see." Rachel grinned.

You let out a shaky laugh. "You scared me."

"Oh, sorry! We were calling you, but I guess you didn't hear."

Naturally, your gaze fell to everyone else. You said hi to Damien and Nina before peering at Ellie.

"You're here. Finally." You grinned. "What took you so long?"

Ellie noded in acknowledgment, lips holding a ghost of a smile. "We uh-"

"Who's this?" Rachel interrupted, wiggling her eyebrows as she tilted her chin towards Julia. Julia took that as her cue, holding out her hand with a smile. She gave her name, along with a few other pleasantries, to which Rachel nodded impressively.

"You're quite the charmer." Rachel stated.

Julia laughed. "I try."

You stood to your feet, allowing everyone to climb into the booth. You grew anxious when Ellie didn’t join, taking a seat across from you instead. 

Disappointed, you sat back down. It was odd to be facing Ellie directly while having Julia by your side.

Almost as if it was an instinct, you found yourself nudging Ellie’s leg. You grazed your foot against the inside of her ankle, leaning forward in hopes to grab her attention. She glanced at you momentarily, eyes softening before hooking your foot with hers.

Hi, you mouthed.

Ellie’s gaze lingered on your mouth, noticing the curve of your lips.

…Your lips.

You were wearing a shimmery lip gloss tonight. The kind that made your smile so beautiful that it physically hurt Ellie everytime she thought about it. 

Ellie didn't know what she was expecting tonight. She felt silly for not remembering the previous times you went clubbing with her—you loved dressing up on those kind of nights.

Ellie should have prepared her heart to better withstand your beauty. Because God were you beautiful. You were wearing one of those white summer dresses that hugged you just the right way and a pair of sandals. 

Suddenly, she felt silly for being jealous of Julia. Why wouldn't anyone want to be with you? It only made sense. 

Ellie was simply gutted that the lucky woman could never be her.

She wanted to scoop you away from here, to leave all of this behind. But she knew that wasn't possible, not after you both established remaining friends. Not after you admitted that you didn't have feelings for her.

"I heard you own some property in New York?" Danielle inquired, pulling Ellie out of her thoughts.

Ellie took this as her opportunity to look away from you, refocusing her gaze on Danielle, who was staring back with curious eyes. 

"Um," Ellie racked her thoughts for an acceptable answer, trying—and failing—to erase you out of their mind. "Yeah. I do."

Danielle was scooting dangerously close, sporting a shit-eating grin. "That's nice. I've never been to New York."

You rolled your eyes, gritting your teeth at the interaction.

"Do you want to dance?" Julia interjected.

You diverted your attention, growing hesitant.

You felt guilty for completely forgetting about Julia's presence. There was an impish twinkle in Julia's eyes that nearly caused you to grimace. The guilt multiplied. 

"I'm not..." You faltered, voice dropping into a whisper. "Julia, you're a nice person. But I don't think I'm necessary looking to be with anyone toni-"

Julia laughed, "It's just a dance. But it's completely okay if you don't want to."

As if on cue, Danielle laughed obnoxiously loud. 

Your pinky twitched. You were struggling to ignore the pressing thought of Ellie and Danielle. 

Feeling annoyed and slighted, you nodded, wanting to separate yourself from the table as soon as possible. "As long as it's just a dance." You replied.  "Then I'd love to."

Julia grinned.

~

You felt ridiculous.

Julia was with you on the dance floor and none of it felt as enjoyable as you initially thought it would be. Because Ellie was all you could think about.

Your mouth became dry and the heavy realization of it all threatened to come crashing down any second. So you turned to Julia, stating, "I'm going to get some water and head back to the table." You had to lean in closer than you would have liked, due to the loud music.

"What?" Julia frowned, not hearing you.

"I should head back to the table!" You repeated, jutting your thumb behind you in the direction of your friends.

Julia's features morphed into realization and she nodded. It was almost as if it all dawned on her at that moment that you weren't enjoying herself. "Well, it was nice meeting you." She concluded, with a wink and warm smile, "I think I'll head back over to my friends anyway. Take care of yourself, alright?”

“You too.” You nodded, sighing in relief.

“And you should tell her how you feel,” Julia added.

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Who?”

“Your friend…back at the table.” Her head tilted in the general direction of where Ellie was. “The one you can't keep your eyes off of.”

Your breath hitched, hairs standing on the back of your neck at Julia’s exposé. You opened your mouth to reply, but she was already giving you a goodbye hug. Then she shoved past a group of people to make it to her own destination, leaving you alone on the dance floor. 

Subconsciously, you walked over to the outside bar, sitting down on one of the stools and ordering a water.

While the bartender grabbed your drink, you tried to allow your muscles to relax in the stillness of the night. Faintly, you could hear the booming bass from the music inside. But besides that, it was far more quiet.

Your eyes stung as memories of tonight's shit show replayed in your mind.

You were kind of mad at Danielle.

In actuality, you knew that you didn't have much of a reason to be upset with her. You hadn't told any of your friends what happened between you and Ellie, or even admitted to them that you had feelings for her. It wasn't Danielle’s fault for not knowing where you stood with it all. It was on you—which made you more frustrated. Danielle was a pretty decent human and would never go after Ellie if she knew how truly you felt. You were just projecting your anger because deep down, you were mad at yourself.

Your reverie was broken when a hand slipped around your waist, lips brushing against your temple and whispering, "Where did that girl go?" It was Ellie.

"What girl?" You asked, playing stupid. You pursed your lips, not bothering to face her. 

You didn't want to admit it but you were also upset with Ellie. You couldn't erase the image of Danielle flirting with her out of your mind. It infuriated you.

You and Ellie were just friends, it was something that you both agreed to. Ellie could do whatever she wanted with whoever she wanted. But it still didn't make you any less upset. Because you were jealous, and that's what jealousy did to people sometimes.

"You know who.”

You frowned. "Go back to flirting with Danielle."

There was a hesitancy before she mumbled, "Are you like, upset with me or something?"

You rolled your eyes, guilt and shame and all things bad bubbling up inside of you. "Just go, El."

You knew you were pushing her away—this wasn't fair.

You weren't being fair.

But you needed her to go away before you say something you regret; before you ruin things.

Fingers wrapped around your elbow gingerly, dragging you off the stool and away from the bar. Ellie brought you over to a more discreet section of the patio, away from wandering eyes and eavesdropping bartenders. Once you both were a considerable distance from surrounding people, she let go of you.

With each passing second, her shoulders began to deflate more. She was drinking in your features with worry lines in her forehead. Then she was sighing, pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation. Her eyes shut momentarily, but she didn't say anything more, hesitant to address the elephant in the room.

You bit the inside of your cheek, tearing your gaze away from her as your mind swarmed with countless apologizes. You should be saying many of them right now. But your tongue stayed planted in your mouth as the hammering of your heart kept you from uttering the words.

When you glanced back at Ellie, you noticed that her eyes had opened.

"Don't do this." She muttered. Her eyes were overwhelmingly vulnerable. "You don't get to do this. Not after saying you wanted to be friends."

I lied, You wanted to reply. I thought you wouldn't feel the same so I got scared. I chickened out. I ran.

But you couldn’t say anything. 

Ellie’s shoulders were rising and falling more sporadically as time passed by. It looked as if she was trying to catch her breath, eyes never failing to leave your face. There's a hint of panic in the way that she was observing you…searching for an unknown answer. Her mouth opened—an attempt to break the painful silence that was brewing—before she clamped her lips shut, rolling them inwards. 

You watched her step back as she ran her hands through her hair.

“I don't want to play games with you.” She confessed. Her voice sounded unnatural to your ears. Strained. "I deserve better than that."

You shifted your weight, growing uneasy by the way your muscles were screaming to step closer to her. You wanted to tell her about the way your soul yearned for her.

But you were scared.

So fucking scared.

Your mouth betrayed your wish. Instead, they formed to utter, “I understand,” and nothing more.

Ellie swallowed audibly and the lines above her brows deepened. You could hear the instability of her inhales as she looked at you with a question in her gaze.

“That’s all you have to say?”

It was far too devastating to hold her stare. You made yourself look away. “I...”

Ellie inspected you with such intensity that you practically felt your face melting off. 

She didn't speak and she didn't move.

The whistle of the wind was the only distraction from the agony nestling inside your heart. Your eyes began to sting, lump lodging in your throat in a way that made it unbearable to speak.

You tried to listen to the chirping of crickets; anything to convince you that staying silent was the better option—the only option.

But then Ellie took a step forward and your resolve cracked instantly. Before you could stop yourself, the smallest sliver of vulnerability urged you to look into her eyes.

She was beginning to notice your inability to hold a proper conversation and took another step closer.

“God, you're so…” This time, she was quieter. “I can never understand you.”

You swallowed thickly. “Ellie…”

She looked down, pressing the heel of her combat boot into the tile floor. In doing so, she rocked her weight backwards and then forward. The motion of unrest caused her cologne to waft towards you.

It'd been a while since you’d seen her so ungathered. 

“Listen,”  She said. The sound of it vibrated low and powerfully. It sparked a part of your soul to jump. “I lied. I can't just be friends with you.”

You took a step back.

She took another step towards you.

“What?” You faltered.

“You heard me.” Unshed tears pooled into her green eyes. “I’m telling you that I need you. In every sense. Does that hold any significance for you?”

You found interest in the buttons of her tan button up, forcing away the part of yourself that welcomed her confession. 

You were struggling to fully understand her. Your hands trembled.

“Will you look at me?” She urged.

You could only bear to keep your gaze on her shirt. 

A thumb came in contact with your lower lip. It was a slight graze but managed to leave a trail of fire in its wake. The rest of her fingers soon followed, brushing along your jawline before tucking underneath your chin. She nudged you to lift your head, willing you to peer at her. 

She was so painfully close. 

“You can't say stuff like that,” Was your response.

“Why can't I?”

Because you were scared. Because you didn't deserve her. Because you had already hurt her—already ruined everything. “Because I’ll want you back. And I can't want you. Because…” You exhaled shakily. “I can't risk the possibility of losing you altogether if this were to end badly.”

Ellie sighed softly, squeezing her eyes shut for a few seconds. 

“Our friendship is something I’d never want to ruin. It's safe and it's what we know.” You continued. “Why risk losing you to feelings that I wasn't sure you even reciprocated? How could I live with myself if I ruined everything by telling you how I really felt?”

Ellie’s eyes opened, her cheeks beginning to flush pink. "Oh. That's not..." Her expression had transformed into a mixture of understanding and something strange. “Baby-"

Her other hand managed to find its place at the nape of your neck. Your knees buckled at the pet name.

“You could never lose me.” She added. Her thumb caressed the apples of your cheeks. Those words alone caused you to become completely undone. 

You felt like your lungs could finally break open from their cage. Your exhale was heavy, delight crashing into you like tide waves.

It was too wonderful to believe.

“You drive me mad, you know.” Ellie continued, sucking in a breath. “I want you, all of you, everyday. I have never ached to be near anyone so much until I met you. I can accept it if you still want to stay friends after this. If that's truly your wish, then so be it. But I had to tell you. I couldn't let you walk away tonight without letting you know that I’m deeply, desperately, in love with you.” Her lips trembled. “You're so scared about losing me, but have you ever thought that I’ve been feeling the same? I fucking need you.”

Tears began to stream down your cheeks. You soon realized that you were trembling because you were crying. 

Without any more reservation, you allowed yourself to grip both of her forearms; mostly to steady yourself but to also have another semblance of closeness to her.

“Tell me again.” Your voice was nothing but a warble. You sniffed, tightening your grip around her forearms in hopes to stay grounded in what seemed like a cruel sweet dream. It didn't matter that you were at a bar, outside of a nightclub that was full of rowdy college students. It didn't matter that your friends were probably wondering where the hell you and Ellie disappeared to. The only thing that matter was Ellie. Your Ellie. “...Tell me that you love me.”

Ellie’s features softened. A tear spilled from her eye, trickling down her cheek. She managed to scan every inch of your face, a slow smile curling onto her lips. “I love you.”

The sound that came out of you was an ugly combination of a sob and laugh. 

Ellie swallowed thickly, wetting her lips as she unabashedly looked directly into you. “I’m asking you to give us a try. To give us a real chance.”

All of your doubts crumbled and was replaced with a fiery certainty.

“Ellie, I love you.” Your voice trembled with thick emotion. “Of course I will. I’ve just been so scared, I thought it would be better for us to-”

Before you knew it, Ellie was leaning forward and crashing her lips onto yours. 

You sighed at the contact, gripping both sides of her face feverishly. Her chest pressed against yours, causing a gasp to escape you.

Kissing Ellie was effortlessly sweet. She was gentle and passionate, yet able to exhibit incredible vigor that made your stomach flutter. Her hands traveled away from your cheeks, bunching into the material of your dress and holding you with immense regard. 

And just when you felt as if you were about to burst, she became agonizingly tender. Your mind buzzed at the feeling of her lips; it was like floating weightlessly in water. You longed to give her more of you; even though it couldn't be possible to give her any more than what she already had. 

Then she pulled away. You noticed that you two had quickly fell into a rhythm of panting, catching your breath from the sublime moment that you had just shared. 

Ellie wiped your last few tears and kissed you again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again, and again. 

Until you knew for certain in your heart, that there was no other place in the universe that you were meant to be. 

[myrddin-wylt]

I like depicting Alfred as charming, but not really in an obvious way. you meet him as a stranger and he's very friendly and considerate and polite; he helps you move your luggage or offers to his hand to help you up or holds the door open. he calls service workers "sir." you're not used to chatting with random strangers but you're clearly not going anywhere anyway and he seems so interested in you personally, what your life is like, what do you like, just little details no stranger really cares about. he's a little loud, sorta- it's more like he doesn't mind if anyone overhears him, so it's clear he doesn't make a habit of gossip, nor does he expect anyone to shame him for his opinions, as evidently it would be equally unthinkable for him to shame anyone else.

I just really like an Alfred who's charismatic and draws people in with nothing but courtesy and good manners. It's funny, too, comparing Alfred's courtesy and politeness against Arthur's. Arthur is every bit a gentleman but he is not kind, nor does he pretend to be. Arthur is courteous, but in an obviously imperious way. to Arthur, good manners are a sign of sophistication and good breeding- status, essentially. to Alfred, good manners are a sign of kindness and, oddly enough, ambition. opportunity. resourcefulness. a person who scoffs at everyone and declines to build bridges is not a person who wants to go very far in life.

in any case it's particularly fun to imagine Alfred like this at various points in history, because the newly independent, ultra-polite farmer and political philosopher comes off very differently than the generous and courteous Gilded Age business magnate. and both come off as a stark contrast to Arthur, for whom manners are sometimes the only thing keeping his temper and arrogance in check.

late 19th century Alfred in particular is great because he's such an openly ambitious, selfish piece of shit but he's also so damn charming and polite that most people simply don't notice. also he's found out that the more generous he is, the more wealth and power think he has and the more they want to work with him, so it becomes a self-feeding cycle.

side hc: during the Gilded Age, Alfred personally becomes hella fucking rich. it just makes his interactions with the 'old rich' Arthur and family so interesting. Lord Father may be the one with the empire, but it can't be denied that Mr. Jones does just fine for himself, and in fact does apparently better than his aristocratic family members.

[plusvanity]

Øystein, son of Aarseth, is the one and only son of the King of Norway. He's the innate leader of the viking army, conquistador and future ruller of the North Sea empire.

He's known to be fearless, radical, and merciless towards his enemies, a brilliant strategist, but an arrogant and selfish commander.

Pelle is the first child of a noble family from Stockholm. Although he never had an inclination for heroism (nor enough stamina for it), he became a viking at the peer pressure of his household.

After a near dead experience during one of the Swedish raids, he came back 'from the dead' as a shaman. He ditched the battlefield to be guided by gods to his new enlightenment. Although reluctant and resistant at first, his kin slowly became aware of his new wave of wisdom and his fortune-telling gift and proclaimed him a 'bridge between gods and mortals'.

Obsessed by death and the occult, Pelle embraced his new status as a nonhuman (how else, really)

After hearing about his powers, Øystein decided to kidnap Pelle for his own benefits. He made Pelle his personal clairvoyant and advicer, but didn't take him as a slave. He was Øystein's loyal companion during raids, following him everywhere and having a privileged place next to the smol and grumpy Majesty.

Varg was the son of a Jarl who had a very close companionship with the King, so (unfortunately) Varg and Øystein have quite a history together.

They never standed each other. At first, the animosity was one sided, but in time it became mutual.

Varg was only 11 years old when he had to follow his father to a congregation in Oslo. He and Øystein had a (seemingly ordinary) sword fight until Øystein cut Varg's face. Naturally, he got away with it, but Varg never forgot him for the humiliation he endured and the new scar that became a constant reminder of his weakness. This is when the hatred became dual.

10 years later, at his father's order, he had to join the youth's movement and become part of Aarseth's army. Arrogant, confident (or so he tries to portray himself), and revengeful, he gladly took the role of a viking, but the worst part had yet to come. He was rendered to have a close position to Øystein and to travel alongside him and his other minions (Jan, Jørn, Fenriz, Snorre, Faust, etc).

Fights occurred on countless times and if they were caught together in a 'life or death' situation, they would let each other simply die rather than work a way out, so the tension was always high, trust was non-existent and curtesy was another word for forced-agreeableness.

Øystein wanted to get rid of Varg as much as Varg wanted to obtain his revenge (kill him and take the throne), but in unfavorable circumstances there was little to nothing they could do (yet).

When Pelle entered the picture, Varg fell in love with his mystic beauty. He began sneaking out and postponing duties to spend time with the shaman.

Pelle's interest in the mortal way of living and human affection was limited, but he became fond of Varg to a certain extent.

Having both Øystein and Varg's trust put Pelle in a delicate position. Typically impartial, he tried his best to stay away from taking sides, but he couldn't deny the ever-growing antagonism between the two.

The story is basically about them having to survive the cold, the hunger, the fights and each other while Varg has a massive crush on Pelle, Pelle acts like he doesn't understand the languages and Øystein munches on elg meat.

[theambitiouswoman]

Traits Happy People Don't Embody

Happy people tend to exhibit positive traits and behaviors that contribute to their overall sense of well-being and satisfaction with life. Behaviors that contribute to their own happiness as well as the happiness of those around them. Ways happy people do not act:

Aggressiveness: Happy people tend to be more relaxed and peaceful in their interactions with others. They don't feel the need to assert their dominance or control in social situations.

Rudeness: Happy people tend to be respectful and considerate of others. They don't belittle or insult others to make themselves feel better.

Negativity: Happy people tend to focus on the positive aspects of life and look for the good in situations. They don't dwell on negative thoughts or feelings.

Selfishness: Happy people tend to be generous and compassionate towards others. They don't prioritize their own needs and desires at the expense of others.

Hostility: Happy people tend to be open and welcoming towards others. They don't feel threatened or defensive in social situations.

Envy: Happy people tend to be content with what they have and appreciate the successes of others. They don't feel jealous or envious of others' achievements or possessions.

Perfectionism: Happy people tend to have realistic expectations of themselves and others. They don't strive for unattainable perfection or constantly criticize themselves or others for not meeting impossibly high standards.

Pessimism: Happy people tend to be optimistic and hopeful about the future. They don't dwell on negative outcomes or anticipate the worst possible scenarios.

Impulsivity: Happy people tend to make thoughtful and deliberate decisions. They don't act impulsively or make rash decisions that may have negative consequences.

Arrogance: Happy people tend to be humble and grateful for what they have. They don't feel entitled or superior to others based on their accomplishments or status.

Defensiveness: When someone is defensive, they may feel threatened or attacked, which can lead to them being guarded or closed off in social situations. This can make it difficult for them to form meaningful connections with others and can lead to feelings of isolation or loneliness. Happy people tend to be more open and accepting of others, which allows them to form strong bonds and cultivate positive relationships.

Sabotage: Sabotaging others is a negative behavior that can cause harm to others and damage relationships. Happy people tend to be supportive and encouraging of others, which helps them build strong, positive relationships based on trust and mutual respect.

Jealousy: Jealousy is a negative emotion that can lead to feelings of resentment, anger, and bitterness. Happy people tend to be content with their own lives and accomplishments, which allows them to appreciate the success of others without feeling envious or resentful.

If you find yourself feeling these emotions, stop, and try to uncover the root before you choose to immediately act on it. By understanding positive and negative feelings, we can not only become better individuals; we can also gain more of an understanding of ourselves and others.

[tinietaehyun]

The Ballroom Facade

[Assassin!Yeonjun x Royal!Reader] [One-shot]

Pairing: Assassin!Yeonjun x Royal!Reader

Genre(s): Royalty!AU, masquerade, romance, forbidden lovers, enemies to lovers, fantasy, historical fiction, fluff, angst.

Contains: Mentions of arranged marriage, societal pressure, mentions of blood/injury, assassination plot, suggestive themes.

Link: MASTERLIST

Summary: His black feathery mask shimmers under the chandeliers with its illustrious specks of glitter. That’s nothing compared to his icy but intoxicating gaze that pierces through his mask into you. His firm grip on your waist inches dangerously low, his other hand - gloved fingers intertwine with yours intimately.

You peer at him breathlessly as you await the answer to the question you put out into the air. The man’s lips form a sly smile as he nonchalantly murmurs, “Oh sweetheart, I’ve come to kill you of course.”

“Huh?” You stammer; your eyes widening through your mask. A darkly amused chuckle escapes his lips, “Though, I think you’ll find yourself rather lucky tonight.”

————————-••••••••••••••————————

“This may be your birthday ball darling, but I expect no slacking off and I expect your behaviour to be just as outstanding as it always is.” You nod peering at your mother; seeing her weighty crown glimmer under the light of the chandeliers. She continues, “As always, remember to keep smiling, remain confident but not arrogant. You, after all, represent your father’s legacy and his reputation. Furthermore, you are the heir to the throne. We’ve taken the liberty to spend much on this masquerade ball for you this year despite the current battle taking place between our kingdom and the kingdom of Dunamis.”

A dreary sigh escapes your lips. You weren’t exactly surprised you were receiving a preparatory lecture from your mother before entering the ballroom, for your birthday celebration ball. Everything you did, everything you said, your facial expressions, actions, tone of voice were all perceived with such scrutiny and open to much criticism. Thus, you had to behave with utmost care and caution.

You peer at your reflection on the sleek tiled floor as your mother continues to talk. Your eyes glimmer at your ballgown which your parents had custom made for this occasion. You knew the cost of this gown was unfathomable for the common folk. Everything from the layers upon layers of dull pink tulle, the floral embroidery and translucent puffed sleeves with sequinned floral embroidery to match. To top it all off was a matching custom mask with sequins, flowers and pearls. An illustrious style befitting your status.

“Darling? Are you paying attention?” Your mother cuts in and you peer up nodding, “Mother, don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I won’t let you down. I will conduct myself with honour, integrity and respect befitting the royal family.” Your mother’s lips form a gleaming smile pleased with your answer. You knew she’d be. A dreary life you led, so repetitive, so predictable. Every aspect was controlled with such care and effort.

As incredibly grateful you were for this position, you wish it allowed you some more freedom. You were restrained, held back by the title of ‘heir to the throne’ and ‘Crown Princess.’ You had barely even socialised with your own people excluding the elites and nobles of other nations. How pitiful, indeed. You had not even seen half of the beautiful scenery and nature of your kingdom yet you knew every single particle of everything that lies within the palace walls. It was your home as well as your luxurious prison.

Regardless, you had to put away your selfish desires for the sake of the people. You were grateful and you wouldn’t toss this lifestyle aside so simply. Who would? “Come darling, they’re waiting for you, after all.” You nod with a curt smile. Not too wide, after all. Just right.

You descend the grand staircase holding your mother’s gloved hand hearing a roar of applause at your introduction. The applause and seeing such elite people clap for you and peer at you with adoring gazes and expressions makes you feel as if you’re buzzing. The sea of masks adorning everyone’s faces hide their identities. You walk down with a delicate wave at everyone and bow of the head. Your mother releases your hand and whispers, “Good job, darling. Now, socialise and mingle. More allies, the better. Smile and enjoy yourself tonight too, it is your birthday after all. That is most important, after all.” She gives you a quick peck on the cheek before scurrying off to a group of noble women.

You stand there frowning for a second before painting a neutral expression on your face. Within seconds, numerous noblemen and women approach you with praises, felicitations galore! It becomes quickly overwhelming and you try your best to maintain etiquette and respond appropriately. As kind as they seemed, you knew deep down they were all looking for a loophole, something to pin against you.

You would have to scoff, as if. You had perfected your facade. You would not disappoint. You couldn’t disappoint. The weight of the crown was too much to bear yet you had no choice but to partake in the verbal tests and mind games everyone seemed to want to play with you and your parents. In a way, the theme of masquerade you had chosen for this year, fit perfectly. Everyone was just playing a facade.

You make your way around the large ballroom talking, mingling and socialising with all sorts of nobility. All the while your father and mother do the same paying no attention to you. Once again, another birthday celebration which felt like another diplomatic excursion or mission.

Drained, you excuse yourself from your umpteenth conversation and walk towards the buffet table. You take a drink to relax your throat from all the talking and you find yourself a seat to relax in. You shoo away the maids and butlers politely wishing to be alone for a while to gather your thoughts. For the first time tonight, you observe the ballroom itself.

The way everyone’s figures reflect on the squeaky clean black, gold and cream coloured tiles. The crowds of nobles conversing under the glittering chandeliers surrounded by the numerous windows that glimpsed the dark outside and encompassed with grand tassels and ribbons of black and gold. Your ears are delighted to hear the royal orchestra playing, the music soothing you. It was something you enjoyed incredibly from a young age.

Something you’d grown accustomed to, something which you loved but now grew to become bored of. Not that you didn’t like it, you were just bored. You sip your drink as the smile slips from your lips. Your eyes scan around once more and you stiffen seeing a tall man dressed in an ebony petticoat jacket with feathery details at the edges and sleek boots. A dark yet luxurious look befitting a prince even with dark raven hair sprawled over his alluring mask. His mask itself was intricate with glitter and gold accents and small, fluffy feathers lining the edges of it. A shiver runs through you at the intensity of his gaze.

You pry your eyes away. Who is that? What type of nobility is he? It’s so difficult to tell with the masks, though, you suppose that’s the entire point! The way his eyes pierced into your own. How long had he gazed upon you? Just now? The entire night? Had you not noticed him?

You slowly peer back in the direction you saw him and you refrain from flinching. He was walking towards you. An aura of mystery and allure surrounds him with the way he strides confidently, uncaring of those around him. His eyes lock onto yours unwavering; a confident, perhaps even arrogant smile graces his lips. You’re seated stiffly as he finally steps in front of you with an outstretched hand. You peer up at him, your lips trembling slightly. Something about him…made you curious. He was different from those here. No one else dared to approach you so boldly to dance.

“Would you grace me with a dance, your highness?” His voice sends another shiver. It’s smooth, seductive in a way. A small playful hint to it. You’ve been asked to dance numerous times before, but this was different. You felt compelled. For the first time in a long time, a shot of excitement rushes through your veins. Something unpredictable had walked up to you.

With that, you stand up with a polite smile, “Of course, good sir.” You take his noir gloved hand and he escorts you to the central floor under the grandest chandelier. The orchestra begin playing a new piece. The couples around you peer in curiosity at who has taken the interest of the Crown Princess. Who indeed? The violins, cellos, flutes and clarinets merge in perfect amalgamation.

“May I, your highness?” He asks. You nod looking up at him. He intertwines his fingers with yours and places a delicate hand upon the small of your back. You shiver at his touch and sly smirk graces his lips before he trails his fingers to your waist instead. A step forward, a step to the side, again, and again. Then a spin. It was almost like you were caught in a trance. You knew whoever was under the mask would be gorgeous!

“Is the princess always so quiet? I saw you talking quite a bit earlier,” he murmurs dancing with you. You hum, “I prefer quiet, talking is a chore.” A laugh escapes his lips, “Isn’t that all you do? Drawl about yourselves and your power.” You scoff at his assumption, “I do no such thing. Aren’t you a noble too?” You both spin. “Indeed I am, nothing quite compares to being the heir of the royal family though, no?”

Something about his tone and words irk you. “Well, you could perhaps say that. It is a big responsibility to bear.” He hums nonchalantly, “How unfun. Boring, it must be. To be restricted in so many aspects. Played like a puppet with strings. I know the feeling well.” You stiffen, “I am not here to get counseling from you, good sir.”

A chuckle escapes his rosy lips, “I’m aware, your highness. Merely a thought of mine.” He was incredibly articulate and composed. His footwork was impeccable. Just who is he? “Who are you? May I ask?” His voice takes a playful pitch, “Oh? You don’t know who I am? I am wounded, your highness. Am I not elite enough for you to know by name?”

Your jaw clenches, “Well, you have a mask on. I also don’t happen to remember hundreds of names of nobles I talk to around once or twice, perhaps thrice a year.” The man slyly hums stepping forward with you stepping back, “Oh do you not? I do.” A scoff leaves your lips, “Really now? Do not take me for a fool.”

“I never did, your highness. I am merely stating my ability.” You gawk at him as your eyes narrow. This gentleman was trying to outwit you, outsmart you perhaps. What was his game? “I wish to know your identity.” Another gentle spin. “Ah, ah, so eager to know are we? Am I to take this as the princess showing interest in a gentleman like me?” You glare, “No, I merely wish to satiate my curiosity.” He leans closely whispering, “Oh? Have you not heard how dangerous curiosity is, sweetheart?”

You shudder at his low tone; his breath fans your face. He squeezes your waist; almost teasing. “You look stunning tonight, your highness. This gown…truly is a spectacle to behold.” You feel his eyes run down your face, neck and body as his lips quirk up into a charming smirk. You suddenly step forward taking him off guard as you dance but he recovers, “Thank you…” You were irritated, dumbfounded, bamboozled. You couldn’t figure him out. You sway together as the pace of the music changes.

“Thinking hard, princess?” He interrupts your thoughts. You mutter, “No.” The man grins, “Surely, the princess isn’t lying to me? You’re infuriated. I can tell.” “I’m not,” you snap lowly. Your eyes widen for a second before calmly murmuring, “No…I’m not. I’m merely…” you try to find words whilst keeping your patience in check. “Frustrated?” He finishes. Another slow sway, “Call me Jun, for now, your highness.” You arch a brow, “Jun?” “That’s as much as I’ll give you,” he comments.

You sigh, “You are indeed a strange man.” He laughs before leaning flirtatiously in, “You are indeed an ethereal princess. Even in that mask of yours.” Heat floods your cheeks and your heart pounds in your chest. “Which territory are you from? Are you from another kingdom perhaps? I can’t seem to recognise you.”

“Mm, so many questions coming out of those lips of yours,” he cooes. You deadpan, “And so little answers.” In and out, a step aside.

“You are irritating,” you observe unamused. “Thank you, your highness. I do try,” he hums, making you groan in exasperation. This was getting nowhere. “Jun, I believe this conversation is growing rather tiresome,” you drawl glaring into his playful eyes. He grins, “For me? Or for you? I appear to be the one to be getting interrogated by the crown princess herself. How terrifying, hm?” You snap lowly, “Do not mock me.” “I would never, sweetheart,” he feigns. How bothersome!

“I think it’s best to end the dance here,” you huff. He pouts, “Oh dear, and here I was just about to tell you a little about me.” He hums spinning you gently, “But who am I to go against her highness’s wishes?” You gawk and scoff, “No! No, go on.” He chuckles breathlessly, moving his feet alongside yours. His aura darkens making you shiver in his grasp.

His black feathery mask shimmer under the chandeliers with its illustrious specks of glitter. That’s nothing compared to his now icy but intoxicating gaze that pierces through his mask into you. His firm grip on your waist inches dangerously low, his other hand - gloved fingers intertwine with yours intimately. “What’s your purpose here? Who are you?”

You peer at him breathlessly as you await the answer to the question you put out into the air. The man’s lips form a sly smile as he nonchalantly murmurs, “Oh sweetheart, I’ve come to kill you of course.” “Huh?” You stammer; your eyes widening through your mask. A darkly amused chuckle escapes his lips, “Though, I think you’ll find yourself rather lucky tonight.”

Your eyes narrow and you snap, “What hoax is this? Do not toy with me.” Jun darkly laughs, “It’s not a ruse or hoax, sweetheart. You’re quite the target you know. Quite the price on your head.” You stiffen. He chides, “Ah, ah, don’t trip up, the song is yet to finish. Keep up.”

You snarl lowly, “What? I am supposed to believe you are some sort of assassin? Here to dispose of me? You would not dare.” Seething, you say, “There are armed guards, and this is utterly public, it would be imbecilic of you to do such a thing.” He lets out a sadistic cackle, “How naïve of you to think I am not skilled enough to send a poisoned knife to the neck, slit it, and escape on my merry way, your highness?” Your blood runs cold at his words.

He leans in closer, “Oh? Are you afraid? You were so headstrong a few moments ago?” He continues as you dance, “I am an assassin, sweetheart. That is the truth, and tonight I have come to take your life.” Your heart palpitates in your chest rapidly. You were dancing with a hired assassin. Who sent him? On your birthday of all days? It must be the enemy kingdom! Why hasn’t he killed you yet?

“You said I’d be finding myself lucky tonight. In what manner is this lucky?” You snarl. Jun hums amused, “You’re still alive aren’t you?” You threaten, “For now. What’s your plan, assassin? I could report you now. I could scream and all eyes would be on us.” A sly grin appears, “Oh? But you haven’t, have you? Even now. Nevertheless, allow me to correct my phrasing from earlier. I had come to take your life.” Had? He hums, “I had observed you for days prior to this through some informants of mine. Tonight I saw the famous and ever adored princess with my own eyes, and I was not let down.”

You grit your teeth, “Come to the point, Jun.” He hums, “I am. What I am saying is I was debating whether to kill you or not. Particularly when I observed you tonight at this ball, I found you to be charming, delicate, beautiful. Upon dancing with you, it appears you are witty and articulate, intelligent unlike many other royals who merely spout nonsense for the sake of it.” Intently you listen, finding it fascinating how he’s encapsulated your character. Could you trust him? Probably not.

“I don’t believe this charade you are putting up, you’re merely trying to make me lower my guard.” The music quickens and so do you both in your footwork. “I am finding myself falling victim to your charms and allure, your highness.” Your eyes widen, “I…” He hums a softer tone to his voice, “You are indeed radiant, witty and a pleasure to be around. Pragmatic and not so caught up in the theatrics of the nobility.” “I try not to be,” you murmur frowning.

“I had come with the intention to make it swift, and end it all tonight. Though, it appears you are making it difficult for me. For how could I plunge a blade into the heart of one so pure?” He feigns. You scoff, “Oh stop with the dramatics.” You become serious, “You won’t kill me, then.” He shrugs, “I suppose not, perhaps.” You snap, “Perhaps?”

The music ends grandly and he steps away from you as you both bow and curtsy respectively. A sense of allure, attraction and thrill fills you. You’ve never been so intrigued, so excited even about something or someone. It was…fun even. Not that he should know, of course.

Jun takes your hand placing a kiss upon it. You wished you could feel his lips on your skin instead of through a glove. His seductive gaze peers at you, “It was a pleasure dancing with you, your highness. An unforgettable experience.” You murmur in shock, “That’s it? You’re leaving?” He grins, “Oh? Will you miss me?” You scoff, “No- I… I just…” you’re at a loss for words. You didn’t want the moment to end. You didn’t want this bickering to cease.

“How about this?” He hums, “Leave your balcony doors open tonight. I’ll consider paying you a visit.” You refrain from snorting, “How preposterous, it is on the highest floor.” Jun gleams smugly, “Oh? Nothing I can’t handle.” You glare, “That is trespassing.” “Not if you let me in, sweetheart. Then, it’s an invitation.”

You scoff, peering at his face; at his mask. You wanted to see underneath it. A tempting offer. You wished for the thrill, something like this. You mutter, “This sounds like a poor attempt to disguise an assassination attempt.” He laughs, “I promise you it’s not. I’ll take my mask off, we can talk truly face to face.”

You bite your lip in thought; his eyes getting drawn to the motion immediately. “I…it’s too dangerous.” “The mask?” He hums almost in a sing-song manner. Rolling your eyes, you say, “Keep your measly mask on. As if I care.” He coos, “Oh but you do. You’re curious, I know it.”

“What a pest you are,” you deadpan. “Why thank you, your highness. Good night.” With that he grandly bows and turns to walk off leaving you dumbfounded. That’s it?

“My, who was that you were dancing with?” Your mother chimes in, “A potential suitor, perhaps?” You grunt, “Do not get me started, mother.”

———

The ball had ended. Fatigue hangs on your body as you slip into your nightgown and sit on the bed feeling empty. Where was he? Would he truly visit you? You peer over to the corner of your chambers where a large pile of gifts resides then at the balcony doors which were currently locked. Your fingers and legs twitch, having the strange urge to unlock the doors. As you sit up waiting for sleep to caress you, a whirlwind of questions enraptures your mind about the devilish stranger you met earlier.

Going against your better instinct, you march towards the balcony doors pushing aside the frilly curtains and place one hand tentatively on the golden handle. Just as you’re about to press down, you hear clambering and clatter followed by a grunt. You yelp upon seeing a black dressed familiar figure pull himself up over the stone railing of your balcony. He stumbles before standing on your balcony brushing himself off and he meets your appalled gaze. The male leers, giving you a bow before striding to the balcony doors and giving the glass a knock.

“I have no weapon on me, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he declares. You glare to which he pouts in response, still adorning his raven mask. Reluctantly, you open the doors letting him brush past you. “You could have just left it open if you were gonna let me in anyway?” You click your tongue in irritation, “Don’t make me regret my decision.” You inhale deeply, “I have questions.”

“Do you now?” He drawls. “I’m serious, Jun,” you avers. “Ask away then,” as he makes himself comfortable on one of your velvet-tufted sofas by crossing his legs, lying down resting his head on the palm of his hand. How arrogant!

“Who wants to kill me?” You interrogate. His eyes glimmer, “Hm, well, that’s rather confidential. But for you sweetheart, sure. King Choi Dang-Eun.” You freeze, the king of the kingdom your battalion had been fighting over territory and borders for years? Jun hums, “He thought that assassinating the only heir to the throne should be a rather low blow to your nation, no? Quite the sadistic one isn’t he? He knows how much your father treasures you.”

You’re mortified at his words. You knew that kingdom was bloodthirsty, particularly their king. You’d witnessed firsthand their brutality with each battle your father came back from. Despite having numerous (failed) diplomatic meetings, nothing has worked out. Even their royal family, the heirs are rumored to be bloodthirsty warriors.

“How much has he paid you?” The man before you chuckles bitterly, “Oh you’d laugh if I told you the truth. You’re worth a lot though.” You snap, “Say it.” Jun remarks bitterly, “As much as you’re worth, I am getting paid nothing. Consider it…a duty of sorts.” Your brows furrow in confusion, “Duty?” “Don’t think too hard on it, princess,” he says amused.

“You…accepted to kill me…for free? Do not be absurd!” You proclaim. Jun rolls his eyes, “Not like I had much choice, sweetheart. I would have loved to receive payment just as much as you.” You blurt frustrated, “That’s not the point!” He merely chuckles. Frowning, you ask, “You’ve still not hurt me. You’re even entertaining my questions. I don’t understand you?”

“You’re fragile, princess. I am used to slaughtering soldiers, orcs, griffins, thugs. Not pretty princesses like yourself. This mission was tough for even me,” he admits making you feel rather odd inside. Your eyes narrow, “What are you going to say to the king? He’s known to execute those who disobey, no?” Jun bitterly chuckles, “Don’t worry about me. Nothing I can’t handle.” You frown, “But-“

He hushes you, “Trust me, I’ll be fine. Really, sweetheart.” Jun grins, “Worried about me sweetheart?” You scoff, “Absolutely not.”

“Why are you telling me all of this?” You inquire. He peers at you with an intensity before standing up and walking towards you. Further and closer until you feel your back hit your dressing table.

His arms trap you between the table and him encasing you as he presses against you. “Such pretty lips asking all the right questions.” He glimpses at your lips, “To be honest princess, I am fond of you. I have a feeling you’re not gonna tattle on me so easily. You crave this excitement, this thrill.” “I don’t,” you murmur breathlessly. “You do. That’s why you haven’t called the guards yet? You haven’t screamed or even now…you’re not pushing me away?” Silence remains on your lips.

“You feel it right? This. This feeling between us, it’s exhilarating, no? From the moment our eyes met, to when we danced to now,” his whispers caress your ear. Your heart races and body shivers. “The height of royalty, the heir, Crown Princess, someone so untouchable, yet here I am.” Your eyes glance intently at his mask. You had to see his face. You had to! He takes note of your gaze and with a dark smirk trails his fingers down your arm to your hand. Grasping your right hand, he brings it behind his head where you can feel the satin ribbon. With a sharp tug, the mask falls clattering to the ground.

Your lips part in awe. The most beautiful man you’d ever laid eyes upon. His sharp eyes, nose and jawline. His luscious lips and raven hair that sprawled over his pale forehead. His features worked harmoniously together as if sculpted by the gods themselves. “Hm? Stunned speechless, sweetheart?” Heat courses through your body.

“No,” you spout feeling flushed. “I think you’re falling in love,” he utters playfully. “With someone I just met, I’m not daft.” He goes quiet for a moment before chuckling, “Ah, of course. You’ve not seen me before tonight, but I’ve seen you.”

“Impossible.” “Possible, in fact, it’s true,” he grins. “Where?” He purrs, “Ah, but that would ruin the fun.” “How insolent,” you vent.

He leans even closer, “Anyway, I think the real question you have to consider is, you letting a man with questionable intentions into your chambers at night?” You huff, “Guards are right outside.” “So? I’m trained to take people out in seconds.” He chuckles, “Not you though. I thought I made that clear. It’s cute, that fear in your eyes.” “Sadist.” “Perhaps, I got that from my father.”

“Well your father is horrid then.” Jun releases a bitter laugh, “That, I can agree with you on.” Your heart pangs. “Is he an assassin like you? Is it a generational thing?” You question. “Well, I suppose you could say that.” His expression sours for a moment before he hums amorously, “Anyway, you got what you wanted right? To see my face. Is it to your liking?”

“Perhaps.”

“What can I do to convince you? Would seeing my body change your mind?” You gawk appalled, “How vulgar,” Jun snickers, “Oh sweetheart, that’s nothing.”

Suddenly, he drags his nose along the curve of your neck, “I’m sure you’re not as innocent as you portray yourself to be princess.” You glare, “What makes you come to that conclusion?”

“Letting a dangerous man like me in your chambers. Letting me pin you against your dresser. Something tells me you crave for this? Crave for someone to give you excitement. I know it too well, The yearning to be free from the golden cage and watchful eyes.” Your eyes meet in mutual understanding and your body feels incredibly warm. Your breaths are shaky. You whisper, “Who are you really?” He slyly murmurs into your ear, “Ah, ah, that is something I will refrain from sharing with you tonight. I’m just Jun.”

Your shoulders slacken and a pout graces your lips. Jun teases, “Oh how adorable.” You shove him back, “Do not call me that.” You gasp as you feel his arms wrap around your waist and pull you against him, “You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to kiss you since I laid my eyes on you.” You shakily breathe. “Push me away, if you wish to not continue princess.” You’re surprised at his gentleness. A gentleman indeed.

You contemplate for a second before you place a hand on his shoulder and whimper, “Please.” Immediately, he obliges by pressing his lips roughly against yours. How devious for the princess to be locking lips with a malevolent stranger. This was what you craved for. Your arms wrap around his neck as his nose brushes against yours as he kisses you deeper.

Lips move against yours; his tongue slipping in occasionally, nipping and tugging. This was something you’ve never experienced; it felt as if you were ascending. You gasp parting from him as he lifts you, sitting you roughly on the dresser.

Panting, the both of you gather your thoughts. His eyes widen, realising his action, “Princess, my apologies. It appears I got carried away.” Not that you really minded. Jun runs a frustrated hand through his ebony locks of hair and sighs, “It’s best if I leave.” He picks up his mask re-tying it onto his face. Your eyes widen in panic and confusion, “What? What’s the matter?”

He doesn’t respond walking towards the balcony pulling the door open. You grasp his arm, “Wait!” Why are you so drawn to him? A look of surprise crosses his features before he quickly hides it. “Wait, why are you leaving so abruptly? Did I do something?” You quiver. Jun removes your hand from his arm gently, “Keep looking at me with eyes like that and I don’t think I’ll be able to leave you with merely a few kisses, princess.” An oddly sweet smile appears on his lips as you become flustered. You mutter, “Idiot.” He chuckles, “Indeed, I am.”

You didn’t want this moment to end. You knew deep inside you’d never see him again. You didn’t even know his name. What if he got executed? You could do nothing. Who were you to stop him? An assassin?

Jun clambers over the railing and peers at you one last time, “Don’t look so sad, princess. I’m sure we’ll meet again, some day.” “As if,” you scoff. He shrugs, “If not…” he frowns for a second before masking it with a flirtatious grin, “Then, keep this memory and cherish it in your dreams. Will you do that for me, sweetheart?” You nod wordlessly. Pain stings you.

The night seems to take longer than usual to pass. You barely sleep; your mind filled to the brim with images of your encounter with him. How silly of you to get so caught up with a stranger, to think you could escape the cycle of everyday monotony. How could you be so foolish to be swayed by his tempting words and seductive gaze? You scoff, annoyed with yourself. He probably saw you as nothing but a treat for his eyes. Right?

Soon days pass by as usual - dull and dreary. New duties now thrust upon you as you were now of proper age. You aimlessly zone out as your parents and advisors speak about the current situation between the two rival kingdoms. The war had become stagnant- a stand still.

The other kingdom was running out of resources and their despicable king (who tried to get you killed), had suddenly fallen ill. Your father proposes, “They’re weak, surely we can propose another peace talk. They’re backed into the corner now. What say you dear?” Your eyes widen, “Oh, yes. Excellent idea, father.” Your mother deadpans unamused at your lack of attention as your father chuckles, “So be it then. Get the scribe, a letter shall be sent.”

To your surprise, an acceptance letter is sent. Not signed by the king, but the heirs of the throne. He had two children, twins both vicious. How odd, you think. “You must be present in the meeting dear, it’s important you pick up on the skills.” You sigh, “Yes father.” He was right. Two weeks pass and the time nears.

A neutral spot was chosen to hold the peace talk in which a small group of soldiers from both sides were present for protection. You are seated beside your father and your eyes fix on the stunning woman opposite you: Princess Choi Ji-Ah.

Her sharp gaze and strict manner of speaking sends shivers through you. You notice the empty seat beside her. She is indeed built to rule firmly. Yet, she has a softer edge to her, than her father. You notice various scars littering her arms, battle or training scars perhaps? She meets your gaze and gives you a soft smile taking you off guard.

Ji-ah’s poise and elegance makes your eyes widen, “Your majesty, your daughter is indeed as beautiful as they say.” You murmur bashful, “Thank you,” as your father chuckles, “I am pleased to discover you are nothing like your father.” Her eyes darken and an eery smile appears, “Ah, of course. Regardless, he’s very ill, he won’t have long left.” You feel a chill at her tone.

“Ah apologies, Ji-ah, I am here! I managed to sort the supplies out,” a voice interrupts. It’s familiar. You feel your entire world spin as you set your eyes on the male. “Yeonjun,” she grits out, “I’d appreciate it if you were more punctual.” Yeonjun bows apologising to your father. His eyes scan over and his eyes widen meeting yours.

Jun. Yeonjun. “Prince Choi Yeonjun of the Kingdom of Dunamis,” his sister introduces. This was preposterous!

You glare darkly at him to which he greets back with a bright gleam. “A pleasure to meet you, your highness.” You grit out, “The pleasure is all mine.”

“Father, I need a moment, I have a headache. Please excuse me, Princess. My apologies.” They both nod as you rush out. You shakily breathe. You had kissed your enemy, well ex-enemy now. Whatever it was! Butterflies flutter into your stomach. Yeonjun looked regal, ethereal in his royal attire. Oh damn him!

“Princess,” you hear him approach you. You don’t turn around. You hated how happy you were to see his stupidly handsome face. How you dreamt of him, just as he asked. Fate had brought you together again.

“I’m sorry for not being able-“

“Silence,” you sharply quip. He halts as you turn and march up to him, “Assassin and crown prince, huh?” He hums amused, “What can I say? I’m a man of many skills.” You scoff suddenly pulling him down by his collar, “You filthy, atrocious, abhorrent-“

His lips meet yours chastely, “Mhm, go on.” “Ugly, imbecilic-“ another kiss, deeper. You part from him glaring, “How bothersome.” “Delightful you mean.”

“You missed me, no?” Yeonjun hums. You murmur after a moment of silence, “Perhaps.” He chuckles breathlessly, “It’s never a yes or no from you, is it?”

He whispers with an alluring smirk, “I have a feeling we’ll become more than just allies after today.” You hum, “In your dreams.”

“Oh don’t fret sweetheart, you are.”

[the-sage-libriomancer]

i’ve been watching One Punch Man, and i do appreciate that ONE makes sure to balance class differences (in terms of status, not money) pretty evenly. a lot of class-centric stories, especially in shonen, pick one of two extremes: make all the characters high-ranking individuals with low-ranking npcs as cannon fodder, or make all the lower-ranking MCs rise to the top while high-ranking characters sneer. The first one paints the high-ranking characters as the only people worth talking about; the second one makes the low-ranking characters seem like plucky underdogs who deserve their positions more than the high-ranking ones.

but One Punch Man has a point to make about hierarchies - namely, that people can be good and bad no matter where you are in the pecking order - and unlike a lot of other shonen works, he puts his money where his mouth is. sometimes you get selfless, heroic Class S heroes (Genos, Bang), and sometimes you get selfish, arrogant Class S heroes (Metal Knight, Tornado). sometimes you get altruistic, hard-working Class A heroes (Smileman, Lightning Max) and sometimes you get self-centered, opportunistic Class A heroes (Snek, Dark Gatling). sometimes you get Class C heroes who are willing to sacrifice themselves to save others (Muman Rider, Chain Toad), and sometimes you get Class C heroes who’d rather chase after recognition and fame at the expense of other heroes (the Tank Top brothers).

and in the middle of that you have Saitama. possibly the most powerful man alive, easily the most powerful man in the Hero Association, and yet he's ultimately just a c-grade hero trying to make his way up the ranks like everyone else. he does want to earn a higher rank, but only because it's a goal to pursue (and probably because he's lonely and conflates attention/notoriety with human connection, but that's a whole other post). and yet it's been shown multiple times that even in the face of an opportunity to raise his rank, when it comes down to it, Saitama will always pick helping others over being a hero. he'll lean into ugly rumors about being a lying cheater if it helps Class B heroes get the recognition they deserve. he'll save people who insult him (Suiryu), people who are taking advantage of him (King), people who obviously deserve whatever karmic punishment he's saving them from (the butt-chinned kid). he treats everyone equally, regardless of rank or wins/losses ratio, and judges them on their own merits - not by how powerful they are or how high their rank is, but by how well they treat him and others.

One Punch Man stands out because ONE is determined to go the extra mile in showing that status simply doesn't matter to real heroes. it's not a matter of what rank you are - it literally is just how you choose to conduct yourself. you get bad apples in every bracket, but you also get real gems who defy all the negativity that builds up between ranks and genuinely try to help. you can tell ONE really thought out his deconstruction and subsequent reconstruction of the class/status divide and power scaling issues that are so prevalent in shonen manga, and as per usual with his works, it makes for a thought provoking read.

[shcyc]

! ETERNAL DEVOTION

synopsis: zhongli finds you worshipping him and offers you a contract

cw; sub fem! reader, god / mortal dynamic, fingering, vaginal penetration, size difference, age gap, mentions of mind control, also slight monster fucking

controlling a mortal was as simple as a snap of his fingers, you'd be under his spell doing everything his way — but one look at you tells him he doesn't need to do that because you'd succumb to him the moment he appeared in front of you, just like you were born to be his, body and mind

zhongli's eyes follow you as you place the last piece of offering beneath his statue; the young rex lapis would have asked for more, for you to kneel and pray, but he's aged, he's no longer at his peak and he’s tired of all the arrogance he once had

however, you, this young and innocent girl with such a strong devotion to your god, has that part of him vacillating once more, a part of him determined to make you his, to feel greater again

he is selfish when he reveals his identity to you one night, handing you a contract on what he wants out of this ‘relationship’ — and you were so quick to oblige, so obedient, so good for him, just like how he predicted the moment he laid eyes on you

zhongli feels like he’s ascending to celestia when he pulls you onto his lap, ass soft and plush on his aching dick, giving it just the right amount of pleasure like you knew what it needed

his clawed hands finally appears after years of hiding in the facade of ‘the human zhongli’, and he sighs in pleasure at the feeling, leaving light scratches on your already naked body — he thinks the way your moans and whimpers spill from your mouth is downright sinful, but he can't deny that it makes him want more

when you nod meekly and bring his hand to your dripping core, he tells you that it'll be okay, that he'll make you feel good if you give him the chance — and he's grown bigger without his knowledge, so big that he thinks if he pushes himself in, he'll split you apart

his fingers work magic on your pussy as he frees himself from the restraints of his pants, letting the leaking tip press against the crevice of your ass, golden cum smearing on your untouched body, burning into your skin; a sign that your god is marking you as his

he deems you ready when you cum around his fingers for the second time, body spasming in his embrace — his eyes roll involuntarily the minute he presses his dick into you, so wet, so tight, so warm and perfect, squeezing him so deliciously that he may cum on the spot

no mortal or celestial being had ever made him feel this way; it made him realize what 'making love' really meant, rather than just ‘sex’ which he had been doing for the past 6000 years of his life

zhongli effortlessly flips you around, forcing you to face him as you struggle to adjust to his sheer size, the stretch painful yet addictive — you're clinging on for dear life as he bounces you on his cock, hands holding you in place to prevent you from fleeing, not when you're both on cloud nine — so you allow yourself to sink deeper into the feeling, relaxing and surrendering your body to morax, allowing him to show you his promise from the start

“gonna cum—”

warnings sputter from you as you bury your face into his chest, and he groans at the view; the size difference along with the way your gummy walls spasm around him pushes him closer to the edge as well

his fingers wrap around your neck to force eye contact with him before kissing you roughly, his longer dragon tongue dipping into the warm cavern, tangling with your own

“cum. cum for me, mortal.”

white surrounds you the moment you hear the command, body freezing up at the orgasm that knocked the wind out of you — zhongli’s own high has him seeing stars, something he’s never experienced before

it took him sometime to regain consciousness, his gaze immediately trailing to where the two of you are connected as he watches golden streaks of cum drip out in amazement

for a while, he let himself become vulnerable, allowing the two of you to stay like that as you fall asleep on him, bathing in the silence of the night and the warmth of another, something he hadn't had in a long, long time

[warrioreowynofrohan]

After a reread of Persuasion, I’m thinking about how it relates to Austen’s character types discussed in this post. It stands out from S&S, P&P, and Mansfield Park in not haveing a ‘charming rake’ type as the main male antagonist, but instead a reserved, intelligent, courteous, cold-blooded and selfish man. There is no counterpart to Willoughby, Wickham, or Henry Crawford.

Instead, if Mr. Elliot is a counterpart to any of the characters in Austen’s other novels, he feels like a dark mirror of Darcy. They are both reserved; both (at least at the time of the main plot of the book) place a high value on social status, and look down on commonness and vulgarity. However, while Darcy’s arrogance makes him rude, Mr. Elliot has impeccable manners; and where Darcy in has strong principles and treats the people for whom he is responsible well, Mr. Elliot is a hypocrite and, though voicing good principles, is in fact cruel and uncaring to those who are dependent on him. Mr. Elliot is, really, the type of person that Wickham portrays Darcy as being. The other thing that brought this comparison to my mind is Mrs. Smith’s description of the friendship between her husband and Mr. Elliot, which very much recalls the one between Bingley and Darcy (as an additional note, both Mr. Smith and Bingley are named Charles):

From his wife’s account of him she could discern Mr. Smith to have been a man of warm feelings, easy temper, careless habits, and not strong understanding, much more amiable than his friend and very unlike him - led by him

I think this all goes with one of Austen’s common themes, and one that is especially important to Persuasion - the importance of not marrying in overmuch haste and without good knowledge of and, at a minimum, respect for your partner. Darcy is decidedly not like Mr. Elliot in character - but at the time if his first proposal, for all Elizabeth knew he might have been.

And on the flip side, Frederick Wentworth is not like Willoughby or Wickham - but given the short time Anne had known him when he first proposed, he might have been, and Lady Russell certainly sees that danger. He is, at that time, daring and charismatic, but not prudent, having saved none of the money that he won in his naval career. There’s also another reference to the ‘charming rake’ type in that, like Henry Crawford, he for a while courts two sisters, the elder of whom is attached (though, unlike Maria Bertram, not engaged) to another man. In Wentworth’s defence, he isn’t aware of the latter, and isn’t trying to make them both fall in love with him, just being his (naturally charming) self, and keeping his eyes open for who he might like to marry; and he very nearly gets himself badly entangled and, later, freely acknowledges that as his own fault. Really, Wentworth has elements of all three of Austen’s main male character types, and is the better for it. (Anne herself has, I think, the most in common with Elinor Dashwood in being the only sensible and intelligent person in her family, and in being very perceptive, and with Fanny Price is being rather quiet and imposed upon.)

On the whole, this combination of characters makes the book feel less on the side of intelligence and judgement, and more on the side of a warm and open heart, in making for happiness, whereas S&S and P&P focus more strongly on the need for ‘sense’ and intelligence. Intelligence may well be a necessary quality for a truly good marriage, but it is not a sufficient one, not when it is combined with a cold and selfish heart.

[lady-banana]

The trial of younger Louis and Will isn't talked about enough

I have no idea why I haven't seen someone talk about it yet from Baxter's prespective with how funny it is.

Imagine you are an arrogant, selfish, hypocritical, and frankly annoying nobleman, who does not deserve the wealth his ancestors have build like half the birtish ppl back then, in late 1800s Britain.

You cheat an orphanage out of it's donation money and then some kids from the slum form an agreement with you to repay it so that now you owe them instead, and you don't think much of it because 1. they're kids 2.they're "uneducated stupid dirty kids"

Those same kids take you to court for not repaying them a month later💀.

Spoiler alert, they weren't dumb.

Turns out, even without a lawyer, the older kid is dominating you effortlessly, you a nobleman (unbelieveable right?). And the kid decidsed to adhere to the agreement by taking one pound of flesh. To which your lawyer objects with a reason and his objection is sustained.

Surprise, the kids prepared against that too. And surprise, you are losing and the case and it's stressing you out while the older kid freaking asks you if you would like him to recite all of Shakespeare's plays (since this trial mimicks the trial in one of the plays) while posing. (We stan theatre kid William).

Out of nowhere the older kid pulls out a relatively large knife from his small blazer's pocket? And menacingly approaches you as everyone watches casually because ain't no way that small-ahh blazer is covering ANYTHING.

Unsuprisingly atp, you lost the case...

Out of all corrupt nobleman that actually got one-ep long screen-time before getting off-screened like Enders, Baxter's case is the most miserable to me. Like with how status was everything back then, how is he ever gonna live it down?

[hobicakess]

I’m just dropping a little something that’s been brewing for a while and I have like 4 series that I haven't posted

cw: allusions to past SA, period typical themes, there might be some switches from 3rd to 2nd person ill fix it later.

Just vampire hyung line and their immortal wife. Throughout the years she met them all one by one and she married them all legally throughout the years. Today we’re going to read about her, Seokjin, and Yoongi's story.

First she was married to Jin although she met Yoongi decades before. Though their relationship was still very rocky. Her and Seokjins marriage was strictly arranged by the Supernatural council. Seokjin being an original vampire and her being an original immortal (meaning she was “blessed” directly by the gods to walk the earth eternally) the marriage was for the sake of reproduction.

At first Jin was furious about the arrangement. He was an original vampire. He'd been living way before the council was organized and now they were demanding him. Kim Seokjin. The handsomest, wealthiest, one of the eldest vampires to live to marry a silly human who'd been cheated out of death and they want him to taint his very old and pure bloodline. He was extremely offended at the notion.

But all his protest went out the window when he saw her.

If you couldn’t already tell, Seokjin back then was extremely arrogant, cocky, and selfish. He saw her as a Status booster (as if his status wasn’t already high) having her by his side, this beautiful immortal woman to procreate with— this would make everyone even more envious for eternity so he sucked it up and agreed. He of course would have other lovers just like she already did

Yoongi. Former Emperor Min Yoongi wasn’t her lover at this time, he just so happened to be bonded to her. That bond was only because of the bracelet he wore around his wrist, she tricked him into putting it on only for his safety, Yoongi was devoted to her because of it, and regardless he loved her dearly. He had no choice but to follow her wherever she went and now she’s forcing him to watch her marry.

When she met with the council Yoongi thought she’d disagree but she didn't, which made him beyond furious.

When the meeting ended Seokjin walked to him “Looking forward to sharing, Vampling.” Patting his shoulder, Yoongi's fangs bared as he went to attack the older vampire but she called his name and he had no choice but to follow her like a kicked puppy.

When the two of them were alone, Yoongi slammed her against the wall, his hand breaking through it. “You are mad! You’re really going to marry that entitled pig?” He hissed venom dripping from his fangs. He didn’t know if it was him being an emotional vampling or his love for her making him feel this way. He’s never felt like this before. He used to cut heads off with a blink of an eye, and now he’s crying because he should be the one marrying her. “You would let me sit back and suffer while some random man marries and fucks you like a common whore.''

As you can tell back then Yoongi couldn’t control any of his new found emotions, being that he’d never felt any before he grew up as a king, a boss. emotions were for common folk now here he is.

“Yoongi, I understand you’re upset but don’t you dare call me names. I am simply doing-“ he cut her off, finding another part of the wall to punch, closer to the side of her face this time.

“I’ve watched you burn down villages, I’ve seen you make men tear their own skin from their bone, You’re far more powerful than-“

“Shut your mouth. They mustn’t know of the powers I have possessed. They’ll lock me up for eternity just as they’ve done the warlocks and witches.” Her hands raised to touch his still warm cheeks, she’ll forever miss his warmth when he hits his chilling point.

“ I am doing this for the sake of us, everything I have done these years has been for us.”

Her and Seokjin's wedding was beyond big, almost every supernatural species being invited. It was like Seokjin to go all out like this. While she was being prepped for the ceremony she was saddened, Yoongi had left for weeks and she didn’t know if or when he’d come back, but the wedding still happened without Yoongi and you had no living family so she was alone stuck with Seokjin and his asshole friends and family.

Yoongi scoffed, “If you genuinely want to do something for me release me of these awful feelings.” moving her hands from his face

“If you truly do not wish to be bound to me any longer I will remove your Geumganggo” she reach to unlock the golden bracelet and before she could remove it Yoongi was gone in a flash.

When she met Seokjin father she immediately felt a deep sense of hatred for him and then she felt bad for SeokJin. The reason he acted the way he did was because of the way he grew up and who he grew up with. “Well I Wouldn’t have wanted my son married to an immortal but you currently have the hips to make his children.”

Seokjin's father's eyes drifted to her hips that were outlined in the tight red wedding dress.“Thank you sir.” she bowed with gritted teeth.

“We are family, please call me father.” He grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips when it was snatched away by Seokjin.

“My wife must be really tired, she is still a human after all and we can’t have her too tired out already” his joke made the whole crowd laugh embarrassing her further, he scooped her up bridal style effortlessly.

“Goodnight.” and he zoomed away bringing the two of them into their bed chambers.

She was on the bed, pressed underneath Jin’s wide body. “Hello wife.” He smirked, pushing a coil of her hair back.

“Are you planning to pretend we are actually a happily married couple?” She stared up at him frowning.

“It speeds up the breeding process.” scoffing, pushing him off, stomping on the dresser, taking all her jewelry in angry huffs. He stood behind watching her in the vanity mirror “ You looked beautiful today, and that says a lot coming from me.” turning to look at her ‘husband’ scoffing again.

“Are you immune to not being a.. nuisance?”

“You are upset your vampling lover did not show.” it wasn’t a question it was a statement and it pissed her off more.“Vamplings are emotional creatures especially when it comes to their sires.”

“I am not a vampire, how can I be his sire?” Looking at him through the mirror. “Well I am going to assume you were with him when he first awoke?”

She was with him. Through the aching process of change. Holding cold towels on his forehead while the venom and humanity fought against each other, she was there when he awoke with the hunger of only fresh blood.

Seokjin clicked his tongue, "I guess the human stupidity still stays in Immortals" her frown becomes deeper as she removes the caked up makeup on her face with even more force than before. "Are you planning to frown all night? It is our wedding night."

She sighs, standing and unzipping her dress so it falls to her feet going to lay back on the sheets.

"What is this?" He asked confused, eyebrows raised as he stared down at her missionary position. "I am speeding up the breeding process."

"I cannot do it like.." he waved his hand over you

"This."

"Oh? would you prefer me on my stomach?" She moved herself into a face down position causing the vampire to sputter and the remaining blood he consumed during the wedding rushed to his ears as he pulled at his tie removing it.

"I cannot have you in anyway if you aren't willing." She turned back to him sitting with confusion evident all over her face. Seokjin couldn't believe it. "I was in position?"

"Position doesn't mean willingness, darling" he sighed, grabbing a sleeping gown from the dresser and handing it to her. She stares at him hard, eyes wide and the most vulnerable Seokjin has seen since meeting the immortal. “I admit that I haven't been the kindest since meeting you.”

He swallows hard, kneeling in front of her, helping her step into the frilly gown pulling it over her bare shoulders, skillfully tying the strings in the back of it. “But. I am not that kind of man who abuses his masculinity and forces himself onto unconsenting women.”

When he finished he grabbed her hands “For as long as we are together as wife and husband I will never force you to do anything you won't want to”

Standing and rolling his wide shoulder he adds “Sex wise of course”

She scoffed at him loudly, “And I thought you were being genuine.”

“You're a few centuries late darling.”

[jubileemon]

The Dark Side of Motherhood: Exploring Odalia Blight's Character

Odalia Blight emerges as a particularly controversial figure within 'The Owl House'. She was portrayed as a toxic parent in the animated series, known for her manipulative and controlling behavior towards her youngest daughter, Amity.

Parenting Style

Firstly, Odalia consistently places immense pressure on her children to conform to societal expectations and uphold the family's reputation. This pressure is evident in her treatment of Amity, where she not only dictates her daughter's actions but also attempts to control her personal relationships, especially with Luz. Odalia's interference undermines Amity's autonomy and emotional well-being.

Odalia's insistence on Amity dyeing her hair and her overall treatment of her youngest child are indicative of a desire to control and mold her offspring into an ideal that serves her own interests, rather than nurturing their individuality and happiness. It reflects the broader theme of parental expectations and the pressure to conform to societal norms. Amity's initial act of changing her hair to purple in Season 2 becomes an act of rebellion, signaling her desire to break free from her mother's imposed standards.

Odalia's approach to parenting mirrors that of a strict corporate executive, where success is defined by adhering to a predetermined path, achieving specific goals, and maintaining a carefully crafted public image. The children become pawns in the family's pursuit of societal status, akin to employees serving a company's bottom line.

Her Relationship With Edric and Emira

Odalia's biased treatment towards Emira and Edric, as hinted by Amity, suggests a lack of equal regard for her children. The implication that she is less controlling towards the twins might indicate a perceived favoritism or a different approach in her parenting style.

In return, the twins show a level of distrust and occasional defiance toward Odalia. The revelation that Odalia used them as bargaining chips to ensure their father's compliance sheds light on the transactional nature of their relationship with their mother. The twins' secret opposition to Odalia's actions, such as helping in the rescue mission and supporting Amity's defiance, demonstrates their willingness to challenge their mother when they disagree. Their awareness of Odalia's true nature and recognition of her selfish motives distinguish them from Amity, who initially hoped for a more reasonable resolution.

Toxic Behavior

Odalia Blight's character indeed embodies a deeply toxic and controlling parental figure in "The Owl House." Her arrogant and mean-spirited behavior, coupled with a misanthropic disdain for relationships outside of her perceived societal norms, creates a hostile environment for her family.

By isolating Amity from her friends and criticizing them as less skilled, Odalia attempts to shape Amity's social circle in accordance with her own standards. This tactic not only undermines Amity's autonomy but also perpetuates a toxic environment. Odalia's willingness to consider sparing Amity's friends from expulsion but only if Luz becomes the guinea pig for her abomination product presentation underscores her manipulative nature. This condition puts Luz in a difficult position, using her as leverage.

The implication that Odalia's abominations were designed in a way that poses a threat to Luz's life suggests a level of callousness and disregard for the well-being of those who stand in the way of her ambitions. This goes beyond mere manipulation, entering into a realm of endangering others for personal gain.

While Odalia Blight's acceptance of Amity's lesbian sexuality is a positive aspect in terms of representation, her continued disapproval of Amity's relationship with Luz Noceda reflects a persistent bias. The comment about finding Amity "a new girlfriend that doesn't have wanted posters everywhere" suggests that Odalia prioritizes societal expectations and status over her daughter's happiness.

The detailed account of Odalia Blight's actions paints a compelling picture of her as a deeply manipulative and morally compromised character in "The Owl House." Her abusive tactics towards Amity, utilizing an oracle necklace to control her, and threatening Willow's expulsion to sever their friendship underscore her unscrupulous methods of maintaining control over her daughter's life.

Odalia's influence on Amity's attitudes and beliefs, making her act arrogantly and look down upon those she perceives as less skilled, including Willow, further exacerbates the conflict. This attitude shift puts strain on their friendship, as Amity starts to distance herself from Willow due to the societal expectations imposed by her mother.

Business and Ambitions

As the CEO of Blight Industries, her involvement in abomination production aligns with her ambition for power and influence. The episode "Clouds in the Horizon" further exposes the depth of Odalia Blight's manipulative and self-serving nature. Her decision to unfairly ground her children for merely attempting to understand her secretive preparations for the "Day of Unity" showcases her disregard for their well-being and autonomy.

The revelation that Odalia was aware of Emperor Belos' sinister intentions but chose to prioritize her family's ascent to royalty in the human realm over the lives of countless witches is a chilling confirmation of her ruthlessness. Her confession underlines her lack of empathy and moral compass, emphasizing her willingness to sacrifice the greater good for personal gain.

This twist not only deepens her antagonistic role within the series but also underscores the extent of her moral compromise. Her willingness to sacrifice countless lives for personal gain emphasizes her ruthlessness and lack of empathy, painting her as a character willing to betray even her own kind for the allure of a perceived elevated status.

Odalia's lack of genuine loyalty, using Belos for her own selfish motives, and subsequent attempts to align herself with the Collector showcase her opportunistic nature. The karma she faces, particularly in her humiliation by the Collector, is depicted as a fitting consequence for her past actions.

Odalia's Downfall

The events in "For the Future" and "Watching and Dreaming" showcase a dramatic turn for Odalia Blight's character in "The Owl House." The Collector's ability to manipulate her into servitude adds a layer of poetic justice, highlighting the consequences of her previous actions. Being reduced to performing menial tasks and catering to the whims of the Collector underscores Odalia's fall from her perceived position of power. This plot development serves as a symbolic reflection of the repercussions that often accompany a character's moral shortcomings.

In the series finale, the visual representation of Odalia being left out while Amity and Alador reunite implies a significant shift in family dynamics. The confirmation from series creator Dana Terrace that Alador rightfully divorced Odalia and claimed full custody of their children further underscores the consequences of Odalia's actions.

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

The Economic Difference Between The Miner and Mine Owner's Daughter

Chapter Three

Based of this ask (the dialogue from there is used here)

Rated Explicit | Warning: period typical sexism, noncon, non-Consensual somnophilia

Ao3

Taglist: @anastasiablossomlove @tfamidoingwithmylife

Chapter Two | Chapter Four

“Finish her off, Norton.”

When he first saw you, he wished you were dead. Just another rich kid with pockets lined with daddy's money. Your fucking suitor laughing as Norton was getting jumped for his lunch. Sickening, the misery of the poor is entertainment for people like you! Laughing as they fight for table scraps, as the poor are willing to do anything to just have a warm bed to sleep on, speaking on behalf of the poor yet none of them ever struggled!

Every day is a fight. Every night is a fight. The moment he was born, his fate was sealed in the black ink signature of your father's name. Norton had no chance, your father stole that from him!

What? Do you think a few shared meals would make him suddenly think differently of you? Ha, no, he meant what he said back then. If things worked his way, you would be on your knees sucking him off while your father grieved seeing his daughter sell herself for his survival.

The nerve you have to spit out that nonsense about change, hah, politicians say anything for some votes. Everyone knows the corporations won't let them actually change things. Too many hands have been greased to change the status quo. 

Nah, the only change he cares about is whether or not he will get out of this debt his father cursed him with by striking it big.

Damn, bastards! Damn all of them to hell and back!

It would be no surprise if they do not find any gold, they use him as a scapegoat. Quick to take the credit, quick to throw to the wolves. Your father will soon be like all the others.

Buried alive. At least in death, everyone is made equal.

Norton’s hands squeezing your throat, a grin on his face seeing you struggle to breathe.

Until your hand touches the scar, soft and gentle, he can see the tears running down the side of your face. Your voice cracks as you beg him to snap out of 

“Norton~,” The purr of the voice in his voice feeds into his anger, “She's right there. Just get rid of her!” Yelling at him.

It will be quick, a snap and all of it will be over.

Yet, he finds himself thinking about the bread you made for him. Yes, it was for him as a gift. Warm, moist, and fresh; all for him with a cup of warm tea.

Your father… You are not like him. Like others who laugh and look down at him, you honestly want to help. Stupid girl, truly, big dreams with no idea how reality works or how this world will chew someone and spit them out.

No good person lives long enough to see the change they fought for happen.

He flinches, you cup the side of his face, “Fight it.” Desperately trying to call out to him. “Please, Norton.”

“Come on, Norton.” Exaggerating the word ‘on’, dragging it out as if bored. “You have an arrogant little flower under you.”

When you approached him, you referred to him as ‘Mr. Campbell’ as if you respected him. It felt like a joke, an insult as you could—should—have been like everyone else. Constantly fighting, struggling, hyper-aware, plotting. He glares down at you, grabbing your hand and slamming it hard on the ground while making sure to have a painful grip on your wrist.

The pained sound you make is music to his ears, the wicked grin on his face growing with 

The rise and fall of your chest makes him very aware of your breasts covered by the blouse. Whenever he sees you around the worksite, you look… Normal. No showy dress, no lace fan (the one you did have you broke), hell, everyone saw you only wear pants. 

But here, right before the end, you are wearing a dress. The sort of dress one wears in the winter, a bright color that greatly contrasts with the current environment.

“Why don't you show this selfish delicate flower how to behave… Hm?” Dragging out the last few syllables as if moaning with excitement.

You have the nerve to smell good too, clean and sweet like a ripe freshly washed fruit.

The fight for air is a struggle he knows you cannot win. Watching your eyes roll back, the small fading gasps for air, and soon your struggling becomes weaker and weaker.

“Nortoooon,” The voice rings in his mind echoing in his own voice, “.... Come on now….” The voice draws him back seeing your life fade by his hand.

Slip you into unconsciousness. Body going slump on the ground, you look peaceful now.

Did he kill you?! Shit, shit, fuck! He shakes you then places his hand over your chest, a sigh of relief as he hears your heartbeat. The twisted thoughts in his mind raced between needing to escape and… And… Your perfume is sweet. Your clothes are so clean. You are like an angel sent from above into this dark hellhole.

The first button is the hardest, his hands are unsteady.

The second button is easier but still hard, the voice tells him to take; after all, your father took everything from him too.

The third button reveals part of your chemise, plain which he supposes he should have expected to not look like one the other miners talk about after a venture into a pleasure den.

The fourth button and the voice is getting angry, yelling at him again to hurry. Norton swears he can feel something moving his arms without him doing anything.

The other buttons are ripped open, his face buried in your neck as he sharply inhales, it is so different from his own skin. Soft, bathed, unmarked.

“Bite. Mark her.”

It speaks and he does it. Each touch of his chapped lips on your flawless skin is marked by his teeth. Some barely barely a mark while others are deep enough to leave dark bruising, those are above your breasts. Your clothes are cumbersome and it is more work to try to remove your clothes in a civilized way rather than ripping them open, but that is what he does.

The personality switch is not instant, it is through the actions he would have never done if not for this damn cave. He was the ripe fruit plucked and feasted upon, his mind slowly corrupted by the abyss he was forced to dig through.

“Fuckin’ hate you wearing these.” The voice is darker, laced with greed and lust, he tears open your bloomers as if it was made of paper. A mess of your clothes half torn and his buckle that decides to be a pain in the ass, not like he can stop himself.

The only moment he stops is when he growls at himself for not knowing what to do, of fucking course he knows the layout of what to do but the fine detail escape him. Worse, the guilt in the back of him is fighting himself right now. Fighting enough that he has to remove a glove, spit on his hand, and jerk himself off.

“Damn you,” Touching your legs, his black dust-covered glove marking your skin, he finds it rather hotter than the bitemarks all over your neck. When he kisses you, oh you taste like something sweet too, he has to stop to cough out his damn lungs. “When I am done with you, you won’t even know how ruined you are going to be.” Exasperated and angry.

When he is hard enough to thrust inside of you, he swears he saw stars. Bliss but you are so tight. Dry too but this is not about you. The scent of blood makes him laugh as you just lost your virginity in a damn coal mine--Blood for blood, justice.

Each thrust is hard because he hates leaving your heat. Your body reacts to him by getting wet, your moans in your current state are low,  his pace is awkward and selfish. This whole situation is selfish. Grabbing everything he can touch about you, kissing you when he needs a taste of you. When he feels himself about to cum, he makes sure it is all over the floor with your blood.

The whole activity was tiring.

The voice is in control, pleased but annoyed as he now has to figure out what to do next. Kill you with the others or… He raises an eyebrow at a bright idea.