Loved This - Blog Posts

In his dreams, Steve’s liver was between his teeth. There was a slit down his side, moonlight painting the white of his skin. The asset knew that his teeth were painted with blood, but the wound did not weep it. It stayed perfectly sealed inside of his beautiful body, unlike the organs he so carelessly ripped out with his jaw.

Steve was asleep, or unconscious, but he was not dead. Through his hot flesh the asset could feel his heartbeat, and it unsettled him. Another cut was made, and the asset pulled apart Steve’s ribs reverently. They came undone like yarn, slipping through flesh and metal fingers. It was too easy. The asset wrapped his metal hand around Steve’s heart. He knew not of the feeling of skin against beating tissue, and he had no intention of enlightening himself. Closing flesh around such an organ would be too close to love, and the asset felt only surrender.

He pulled, first gently and then harder, squeezing like the.. thing would come squishing through the cracks of his fingers like rotten fruit. His hand stayed clean. It was almost like sex, the push and pull, and finally the asset gave in and leaned his head down, closing his teeth around Steve’s heart and biting as hard as he could. The taste of iron and rot did not come, and the asset could not penetrate the hard muscle.

“I hate you.” The asset whispered into hot blood, hoping that the salvia that rolled down his chin would drop into the cavity that he had created, maim and taint Steve’s American Dream. “I don’t want this.”

Steve was whispering in his ear. He loved him. No, no, this was not love. This was weakness. This was surrender. Surely the rip of teeth should burn, have Steve screaming and begging the asset to stop. He wanted Steve to tell him to stop. Was he giving up?

He woke up panting, and hard, and on the living room floor. Gripping a loaded revolver in his right hand, he closed his eyes and bit his lip until it bled, imagining it was Steve’s blood in his mouth instead.

I honestly loved this guy in the movie...so kind...and never took her rude behaviour to heart cuz he understood what she was going through 💖🥲

Aanand I gotta say, he was behaving hella cute a lot😭🤭

Can I request fivesoka and “one kiss isn’t enough” for the mistletoe prompts 👀💕

Thanks for this request! I enjoyed writing this one so much! 😁

Also tagging @ahsokathegray, since you also requested this prompt for Fivesoka. I am planning to write this prompt for them again, so I'll answer your ask then!

Hope you enjoy! 💙

It's also here on AO3.

--

79’s had always been bright and colorful, in keeping with the tone of Coruscant night life, but Ahsoka really hadn’t expected the establishment to sport Life Day decorations. A massive green wreath hung over the entrance and strings of multi-colored lights decorated the exterior of the building, including the doorway. Inside, the same colorful lights outlined the bar and tables, and other various lights, plants, and sparkly ornaments were sprinkled throughout the bar.

Her friends in the 501st had invited her out for drinks that evening. It was the first time their leave had lined up since she was promoted to general and officially transferred to the 332nd. She was excited to see the troopers she had worked alongside for so long, but there was one man in particular who she was looking forward to reuniting with.

As soon as the blue and white armor came into view, a chorus of greetings flooded her montrals. She couldn’t help the joyful grin that spread across her face as she slid into the booth beside Fives. With how many people were squeezed into the booth, it was a bit of a tight fit, so it only made sense for her to sit close enough for their legs to press together.

His amber eyes locked on her blue ones for a heartbeat before she turned to the rest of the troopers.

The clones and their former commander quickly caught up, exchanging battle stories and developments in a few of the guys’ personal lives. Then Ahsoka commented on 79’s unexpected Life Day decor and their conversation shifted to their surroundings.

“There’s even mistletoe hanging in some of the corners,” Echo pointed out. He nodded towards a vacant corner near their table and Ahsoka was able to spot the green plant with white berries hanging from the ceiling.

“Interesting. Any of you guys get a kiss tonight?” she asked, raising her eyebrow markings suggestively.

She wasn’t quite sure what she expected the response to be. Jesse and Kix both raised a hand and then, to her surprise, Tup shyly raised his fingers as well.

“Good for you, Tup!” Ahsoka leaned across the table to offer him a fist bump.

“Hey, what about me?” Jesse whined.

“Fine,” she chucked, offering her fist. “Good job, Jesse.”

“How about you, General?” Hardcase asked. “You going to kiss someone?”

“Maybe you should kiss Fives,” Jesse burst out, before she could answer. “Normally he’d have gotten ten kisses by now, but the lazy di’kut hasn’t even tried.”

“Hey, I could’ve gotten a kiss if I wanted one,” Fives protested.

“Maybe you should prove it then,” Hardcase challenged. “How about it, General?”

Now the entire table was staring at her, except for Fives, who was making an effort to specifically not look in her direction. Normally she wouldn’t participate in traditions like this, but… She couldn’t help casting a glance at the man next to her.

“I suppose,” she agreed, feigning reluctance. “Is that okay with you, Fives?”

“Sure, why not?” He shrugged, like it didn’t matter one way or the other.

“Don’t be too eager now, you guys,” Jesse teased, sarcastically.

Neither Ahsoka nor Fives acknowledged him as they stood and made their way over to the nearest mistletoe.

“They have no idea, do they?” Ahsoka asked, lowering her voice so only Fives could hear.

“Nope.” The ARC’s mouth spread into a half-grin. “Not sure if I’m thankful or offended that no one actually asked why I stayed in my seat all night.”

“I appreciate that.” She knew Fives’ reputation for frequent hookups as well as anyone or at least the reputation he’d had before they became a couple.

“Did you expect anything less?” His voice was teasing, but she saw the way his amber eyes flickered earnestly.

“Of course not,” she reassured him, softly.

“Hey!” Both of their heads jerked in the direction of their table as Jesse called out. “Are you two going to kiss or what?”

Fives flicked a rude gesture at his brother, while Ahsoka rolled her eyes. Then they turned back to each other.

She wasn’t sure how they were going to play this. No one knew about their relationship, aside from Echo, and she wasn’t sure if now was the time to reveal it. Maybe it would be best to just kiss quickly, for show.

Ahsoka was opening her mouth to suggest that course of action, when Fives stepped in and kissed her. The instant their lips touched, she felt warmth spread through her body. He was already wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her closer, while his other hand cupped her cheek. She instinctively lifted her arms over his shoulders. She knew the confidence of their movements were absolutely not indicative of a first kiss, but as Fives ran his tongue along her lower lip, she realized that she didn’t care in the slightest.

“Kriff, I missed you,” Fives said, when they broke apart for a heartbeat.

“I missed you too.” Ahsoka was practically cut off as he pressed his lips to hers again.

One of her hands found its way up into his hair, pulling him farther into her. He responded eagerly, using the arm around her hips to press her flush against him. She probably could have kissed him forever, but after several long minutes, their kisses began to taper off. Fives pressed one more soft kiss to her cheek before loosening his hold on her.

Figuring their relationship was sufficiently revealed, they threaded their fingers together as they walked back to their table.

Fives’ brothers were silent as he and Ahsoka sat back down; all of them were staring at the couple, frozen with shock. All except for Echo, who was cackling madly.

--

I was gifted this beautiful Fivesoka art to go with these drabbles. Go take a look! 💙🧡

Mistletoe Drabble requests are currently CLOSED, but stay tuned for more drabbles that have yet to be posted! ✨

On the topic of humans being everyone’s favorite Intergalactic versions  of Gonzo the Great: Come on you guys, I’ve seen all the hilarious additions to my “humans are the friendly ones” post. We’re basically Steve Irwin meets Gonzo from the Muppets at this point. I love it. 

But what if certain species of aliens have Rules for dealing with humans?

Don’t eat their food. If human food passes your lips/beak/membrane/other way of ingesting nutrients, you will never be satisfied with your ration bars again.

Don’t tell them your name. Humans can find you again once they know your name and this can be either life-saving or the absolute worst thing that could happen to you, depending on whether or not they favor you. Better to be on the safe side.

Winning a human’s favor will ensure that a great deal of luck is on your side, but if you anger them, they are wholly capable of wiping out everything you ever cared about. Do not anger them.

If you must anger them, carry a cage of X’arvizian bloodflies with you, for they resemble Earth mo-skee-toes and the human will avoid them.

This does not always work. Have a last will and testament ready.

Do not let them take you anywhere on your planet that you cannot fly a ship from. Beings who are spirited away to the human kingdom of Aria Fiv-Ti Won rarely return, and those that do are never quite the same.

Basically, humans are like the Fair Folk to some aliens and half of them are scared to death and the others are like alien teenagers who are like “I dare you to ask a human to take you to Earth”.

❄️ Snowball Fight

Prompt: ‘Snowball Fights’ 

Requested by: @livenerdyandprosper​

Pairing: Hawkeye Pierce x Gen!Neutral Reader

Triggers: None; just some shenanigans        Words: 1,068

M*A*S*H Taglist: @thatadroitgeek and @meganlpie

Note: For those who have maybe never seen MASH and are reading this anyway; yes, Frank really is this stupid in the show lol.

With a sharp intake of breath you left the post-op building immediatley being smacked with the cold air around you; small snowflakes continuously falling around you, adding to the piles of snow around camp. 

Getting to The Swamp, you flung open the door and quickly made your way inside, where you saw Hawkeye bundled up while writing a letter. Glancing up he smiled when he saw that it was you.

“Ah, if it isn’t my own personal heater” he greeted as you got closer to the stove to warm up. “I’m writing a letter to my dad, want me to say anything for you?”

“Yeah, ask him to send some sunshine.”

Hawkeye smiled as he finished his letter before setting it aside “Ready to go get some food, or whatever it is that’s in the mess tent?”

You nodded your head before turning to follow him out “How long until you go on duty?”

“In about an hour” he replied as he opened the door, both of you exiting while immediately retreating into your own coat collars to avoid the cold breeze.

As you began walking towards the mess-tent you stopped in your tracks when Frank came marching past, yelling at an orderly about something he was most likely doing right. You rolled your eyes as Hawkeye scoffed “With how much Frank shivers in the cold I’m surprise he can still talk” 

“Frank would march through a blizzard if it meant he could pull rank on someone” you muttered as Frank continued to chastise the corporal. 

“I think Frank needs to be put down a peg” Hawkeye muttered before glancing around, his eyes landing on a pile of snow by a tent. 

Walking over he made a large snowball before winking at you and then chucking the snowball as hard as he could at Frank; smacking him in the back of the head. As he yelled out in surprise, Hawkeye immediately feigned innocence by looking around confused, you immediately doing the same, knowing where he was going with this.

Frank turned and yelled “Hey!”

“That wasn’t me Frank, I’m pretty sure that came from over the hill!”

“Maybe some enemy soldiers’ guns froze up, now they gotta throw snowballs” you mused out loud.

Frank looked around panicked “Enemy soldiers? That would make sense, they’d do anything to get at us!” he rubbed the back of his head “I think there was something hard in that too! Do you think it was a bullet?”

“Oh I wouldn’t put it past them!” Hawkeye spoke with fake anger as Frank looked more panicked before running off towards Potters office.

You chuckled as you watched him sprint away as Hawkeye laughed “What a putz!” he looked back at you before he began to walk away.

Getting an idea, you quickly made up a snowball in your hand before throwing it; smacking Hawkeye in the upper back. He stopped in his tracks before turning back at you. You looked around in surprise “Wow, those guys sure have good arms!” you joked.

Hawkeye chuckle as he took a step towards you “Ah, so I see you have chosen war?” 

You chuckled nervously as you backed up “Maybe not.”

He quickly grabbed some snow, as you laughed, before dodging the snowball. Grabbing some snow you quickly turn around and chuck it at him. 

After a few minutes; you hear a laugh from nearby catching yours and Hawkeye’s attention; seeing BJ leaning against a post as he smiled that the two of you “Oh please, continue, I’m loving the show.”

You and Hawkeye shared a look before both of you turned and hurled snowballs at BJ. He yelled in surprise as he tried to dodge them; failing to do so as he stumbled to grab his own handful of snow. Turning he hurled a ball at you, striking you in the head, to which Hawkeye responded to by hitting BJ directly in the face with a loud “Ha!”

Rounding the corner, comes a stomping, pouting Frank who halted in his tracks upon seeing the snowball fight taking place. “Hey!” he yelled as he stomped towards you “I knew it! I knew the enemy wouldn’t throw snowballs!”

Hawkeye laughed “Then why did you go running to Potter to tell him so?” 

Frank grumbled before running over to a pile of snow “I’ll show you!” spinning around, he chucked a snowball, rather pathetically towards the three of you. As the snowball went past all of you, you watched as it smashed into the chest of Colonel Potter, who had just rounded the corner.

You all froze, trying not to laugh as Frank stared at Potter in horror. Radar standing next to him with his mouth agape. You watched as Potter looked down at the snow on the ground before turning, leaning down and grabbing some snow before turning and hurling it directly at Frank.

You all howled out in laughter as Frank fell on his butt in surprise as the white powder smashed into his face. He sputtered out nonsense as he looked at Potter “Colonel! There was a rock in there”

“Good!” Potter yelled before laughing along with all of you.

After your laughter died down, Potter spoke “So, who started this little war then?” Potter asked as he looked between all of you.

You pointed at Hawkeye, who pointed at you, BJ pointed at both of you. Potter nodded his head “Right. Thought it might have been” 

“Well, there’s enough cold going around, I don’t need three of my best people getting sick out here-”

“That’s nice of you to say Colonel” Frank broke in as he finally stood up from the ground.

Potter looked over at him “Ah, yeah, I suppose I couldn’t do without you either Burns” Frank hesitated as he stared at Potter, trying to figure out what he meant as Potter turned to the three of you again “Now, it’s colder than a well digger’s butt in January out here, let’s go get some coffee in the mess-tent.”

As you all began to walk to the mess-tent, Hawkeye slug his arm across your shoulders. Hearing a loud sneeze behind you, you all looked back at Frank who looked back up at you all “I think I’m getting a cold sir.”

Potter simply shook his head. as the rest of you chuckled, before you all turned and made your way into the mess-tent. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

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If you’d like to be added to a taglist for any character or fandom please let me know~

The Masks of Nobility- Chapter 1

Jikta had no desire to marry. She had, until now, been successful in avoiding such an arrangement. She was fortunate that both her family and potential suitors quickly recognized the simple fact—she was ill-suited for it.

To put it plainly, when the topic of romance arose, she had little to no understanding of it. She could recognize it in others—the way her dear cousin George looked at Bartosh (the latter would have told her if it was mutual, given their close bond), the way her father gazed at her mother, or even the subtle flirtations among the household staff. But she herself had never felt even the faintest flutter. She loved her family, of course, but familial love was not the same as romantic love. Or so George told her.

She preferred her art—studying the form of the living world, sketching it with a precision that sometimes unnerved people. Her paintings had become so lifelike that George often jested she must be a witch. Her lack of romantic inclinations, coupled with her pursuit of biological and anatomical studies (which her family wisely kept discreet), were reasons enough to deter suitors. But the greatest deterrent was her own ‘odd’ nature. Many found her logical assertions strange, though she struggled to understand why; to her, they seemed perfectly sensible. Yet this perceived defect was so offensive that it outweighed even the vast dowry her father and uncle could provide.

George often reassured her that she needn’t worry—he would always protect her. He had promised this since childhood when it first became apparent that she did not fit into the world as neatly as other noblewomen. He came to her for counsel on political and managerial matters, where her mind was a boon. And in turn, he explained her social missteps and how to navigate them. His presence at gatherings, ever the lively and charming one, made her participation tolerable.

Not that she attended such events often. And if she did, she did everything in her power to avoid engagement, retreating into her comfortable routine.

War made men desperate. And desperate men made desperate deals. Her uncle was not desperate, but Lord Hanush was. And so, the marriage was arranged.

Jikta had to admit—Lord Capon had been just as averse to the betrothal as she. Several months had passed since they were informed, and she was quite impressed (and grateful) for the litany of excuses that delayed the inevitable. George had been outraged, demanding that their uncle break the engagement. A foolish endeavor—one she would have advised against—for it only spurred Lord Hanush to secure the match more aggressively.

---

Jikta stared longingly at her sketches—portraits of home, of her friends, the household staff, her mother. Her father, uncle, and George rode alongside the retinue ensuring their safe passage to Rattay.

“Cousin, look—it’s Rattay,” George said.

Jikta peered over the top of her book. The city loomed in the distance, still some ways off, but the outskirts caught her interest. The flora suggested a strong presence of boars. She wondered if she could explore the forests to better understand them.In her musings, she had ignored George. “Sakra, Jikta! Look ahead!”

She blinked back to attention. George rarely grew frustrated with her, even when he had every right. But his tone now required notice.

An entourage of horses approached them."Sir Hanush!" her uncle called out. "What a generous welcome."Ever the diplomat, he gestured to the cart. "Allow me to introduce my dear niece."Her father extended a hand to help her down, whispering, "As we practiced, dear."She would miss his gentle, kind support.

Jikta stepped out of the cart, not as the woman she truly was, but as the noble lady she was expected to be. She placed the mask upon herself—an approachable smile, the tranquility of a blushing bride. Her gaze swept over the men before her, assessing, calculating.

She hoped for a kind husband—one who would leave her be, who would not take his rights often, if at all. Perhaps he would even allow her to pursue her studies.Perhaps that was too much to wish for.

Two young men stood out in the entourage. The shorter, broad-shouldered one with dark hair had striking eyes—not simply for their blue shade, but for the depth within them. They were the eyes of someone who had endured trials and perhaps still was. A rare quality for a noble of Capon’s standing.

The taller man, dressed in fine attire, was another matter. His gaze was one of disinterest—bordering on disdain. Accusatory, as if she had committed some unspoken crime.Unfortunately, this must be her husband.

She bowed politely to Hanush, who let out a thunderous laugh.“She will do you well! Now, introduce yourself!”

There was something commanding about the way Hanush spoke to his ward. His booming voice unsettled her.

Hans Capon’s expression was unreadable as he took her hand, pressing a formal kiss upon it. A forced courtesy. A mask, just like hers.

“I am most fortunate for such a fair wife,” he said, though his tone was devoid of warmth. “I am Hans Capon.”

She withdrew her hand quickly, resisting the urge to wipe it against her skirts. She hated being touched.

Jikta bowed, responding as custom dictated. “I thank you, my lord. I am most pleased to see you have recovered from the plague, sweating sickness, and—if I recall correctly—turning into a horse?”

Her father squeezed her arm. George let out a poorly concealed snort. The silence that followed made it quite clear—she had made a mistake.

Hans raised his eyebrows, momentarily stunned, before regaining his composure. “Yes, it was most distressing to be kept from this… wondrous day,” he said smoothly.She smiled at the falsehood. Two liars, wearing the masks of nobility.

“I do hope you no longer have a taste for hay,” she quipped. Her father and Hanush both cleared their throats. Hanush spoke "Welcome to Rattay. I have arranged for Henry of Skalitz, ward of Sir Radzig," he gestured to the shorter man, "and Hans to escort Lady Jikta and her cousin to their rooms. You good sirs," he said to her uncle and father, "will join myself and Radzig to celebrate this wonderful day."

----

Later, in the Gardens

The gardens were beautiful, brimming with a vast array of herbs. Jikta, momentarily forgetting her circumstances, exclaimed with excitement."May I look amongst your herb garden, my lord?"Hans seemed taken aback by her sudden enthusiasm but nodded.

George chimed in, ever her advocate, "Perhaps we can take a turn? Jikta loves the outdoors and has a great interest in plants."Encouraged, she turned to Hans. "I noticed several meadows nearby contain a particular dispersal of flowers—indicating a large boar population. Do you get many boars, my lord?"

Hans tilted his head, silent in thought.Henry, the man introduced as Radzig’s ward, spoke up instead. "My lord loves to hunt, Lady Jikta." She turned to Henry eagerly. "Ah! Then you must know about the flora preferred by the animals you track! What subspecies have you hunted?"

Hans’s mask returned. "I know little of flowers, my lady. Only the language of flora as is due proper."She deflated slightly, sensing he already found her an irritation. George stepped in. "What Jikta means is—back home, she devised a system using flowers to locate game. It increased our hunts tenfold."

Hans’s mask cracked. "Really?"Jikta brightened and eagerly began explaining. With George smoothing over her bluntness and Henry supporting a sulking Hans, her betrothed soon dropped his cold facade. He even regaled them with an amusing story of his and Henry’s misadventure with a boar.

Jikta thought, perhaps this could work.

------

She had slipped out of her chambers for a quiet walk, seeking fresh air and solitude. But as she turned a corner, she stopped mid-stride.

Two figures stood close—foreheads touching, whispering in hushed tones. Lovers, she thought at first, though the atmosphere between them was not entirely tender. There was tension. Most likely members of the household staff. Still, she ducked into the shadows. If she were found wandering alone, it would be improper.

She began to sneak past them.

Then she froze.The voice—clear, familiar, unmistakable—belonged to her betrothed.

"Christ, Henry, she's mad! Absolutely mad!" Hans's laughter rang out, careless and sharp. "It explains why she's unwed. She’s a rich looker—when I first saw her, I couldn't understand it."

The other man—Henry—sighed. "Mad and genius are often the same thing, milord."

Hans huffed.

Henry chuckled, tilting his head back, exposing the curve of his throat. "Maybe, just maybe, your heir gets her smarts and avoids trouble. Unlike you." He smirked. "I could retire."Hans leaned in. Pressed his face into Henry’s neck. Then, slowly, deliberately, he placed a kiss there. Jikta’s breath caught in her throat.

Hans’s lips moved upward, tracing Henry’s jaw until he captured his lips in a desperate, passionate embrace. "I'll never let you go," Hans murmured between kisses, his voice raw. "You'll never retire. I'll make trouble if you do." Henry laughed, quiet and warm. "Of course you will, my lord."

Their foreheads touched, their breaths mingling. Jikta should have turned away, but she could not. Hans sighed, as if a great weight pressed upon him. "Don't speak of heirs."

The shift in his voice was almost imperceptible, but Jikta caught it. The way it wavered, unsteady.

"The thought of bedding her feels… tainted. Wrong. I—"Henry’s expression softened. A look of quiet, immeasurable tenderness.

"Hans."

There was nothing else in that single word, yet it carried everything—understanding, sorrow, devotion.Henry whispered, a teasing lightness in his tone, though his eyes held something deeper. "You've been with many—a great many, as I recall. The infamous Hans Capon, conqueror of hearts. Fear not."

Hans did not laugh. He did not smirk.Instead, he tucked his head into the crook of Henry’s neck, as if seeking shelter.

"Not since you," he confessed. His voice was barely audible. "Never since you. You are… my everything."

Henry exhaled slowly, his hand moving to Hans’s hair, fingers threading through the strands in a soothing motion.

"Aye," he whispered. "And you to me."

The weight of their grief settled over them both.

Jikta did not understand the world of love. She never had. But she understood what she saw before her.

This was not desire alone. This was devotion. This was belonging.

The priest would call it sin. But the only sin Jikta saw was forcing the destruction of something so profound in the name of nobility.She began to step back, her foot knocking into a basket.

It clattered against the stone.

She held her breath.

Silence.

Neither of them stirred.

She slipped away, unseen.

---

The Next Morning

Jikta paced her chambers.

Neither she nor her husband-to-be wanted this marriage. That much was clear but the battle against it was lost—for now.

Marriage was a document, a binding contract, a political arrangement. That much could not be undone.

There was another matter. The one that loomed over her like an axe.

Heirs.

Jikta had never given much thought to the act of producing them before. But now—now she knew. It was not merely that she, herself, did not wish to bear a child. It was that forcing Hans into such intimacy would be a cruelty beyond measure. It felt wrong. Morally, deeply, fundamentally wrong.

But avoiding it forever? That was another matter entirely.

She exhaled sharply.

No. For now, she could stall. There were ways to delay—many ways. She could not stop the marriage, but she could control this.

She pulled out her study of plants and set to work.

She could not approach Hans about it. That would mean revealing what she had seen. And if she had miscalculated—if his shame turned to fury—her family could suffer for it.

That was not a risk she was willing to take.

So she planned.

One thing was certain—she had no intention of bedding her husband on their wedding night.

She would see to that.

----

This is my first fanfic! I was inspired by how amazing the Hansry community is and decided to give writing a try. The first chapter is from Jikta’s perspective, chapter two will be Hans’s, and chapter three will be Henry’s. I’m also thinking about adding one from Radzig’s POV. Let me know what you think! Posting here until I get an AO3 account.

insecure princess!reader x barbarian!ghost cw: angst, brief sexual mentions, bad writing, confusing ghost insecure princess!reader who has never had any suitors. her sisters overshadow her. her mother pities her, afraid that her daughter will never marry.

fortunately, due to an alliance that her father has made, she finally marries. he's a barbaric prince, shameless and perverted. mean and scary.

princess!reader who tries her best to make love kindle between them, to live the fantasy that she's always had. she rubs lavender oil on her neck, tugs one of her nightgowns straps down her shoulder, to be desirable like the women in paintings. her lady-in-waiting helps her make her hair silky, and her dresses pleasing to the eye. but you can't put lipstick on a pig.

the prince only has her from the back. it's a relief that he wants to make love to her, but at the same time it breaks her heart. she wants to have a face that he wants to look at.

the princess' anxiety only worsens when she notices that the prince's older brother keeps looking at her. she's not used to attention from men, she doesn't know how to interpret it. he might want to hurt her, show everyone just how disgusting she is. or maybe he laughs with his mates about her, just like everyone else. or maybe... he likes the look of her, maybe he'd like to tug her nightgown down and have her chest to chest. it's a stupid thought, she shouldn't entertain them and embarrass herself. and he's her husbands brother!! it's wrong!

then, one night during a feast, her husband's drunk antics drive her to walk away. she wanders the dark hallways of the castle, moonlight and candlelight illuminating the paintings on the walls.

the princess stops to look out of a window, a lone tear running down her cheek. it's an unending weight on her shoulder. she hates the presence of other princess', the prettier princess', they only remind her of what she isn't. knights don't fight for her, artists don't paint her beauty, and princes don't ask her to dance at balls.

a noise makes her jump out of her thoughts, she whips her head around to look down at the hallway. it's him. her husband's brother, ghost. he stands few feet away from the princess, looking her up and down.

"c'mon," he urges, his voice deep and rough. ghost nods, gesturing down the corridor, to the feast. before the princess can even respond, he has already turned around and began to walk back. but she doesn't follow.

the princess stays in place, looking down at the floor as she sniffles. why should she go back there? they don't want her there. the man in armor turns back around when he doesn't hear the princess following after him. ghost lets out a sigh, as he hears her sniffle. with couple of steps, he's standing in front of her.

"why do you cry, princess?" he mutters, reaching up and gently holding her cheek in his scarred hand.

"i hate him..." it's a silent whisper, lost to the silence of the cold castle. her face twists as she fights against more tears.

"walls have ears, and they will twist your words into treason," ghost says firmly, shutting the girl up before she can be her own doom. his thumb run over the bottom of her eye, wiping up the tears that spill. ghost sighs and leans down, pressing a small kiss between her eyebrows.

"sweet princess, you need to return to the feast... i cannot take you away tonight," he whispers huskily.

"take me away...?" she repeats, even quieter, her brows knitted in confusion.

"if i killed him, i could claim you for myself," ghost murmurs. he looks down at her, letting the princess ingest his words.

her eyes are wide in shock. kill? for her? that is the most romantic thing she's ever heard. is this what courting is? if so, then she only wants more of it. she can't tell if he's mocking her, but there's something in his voice that makes her stomach stir with excitement. the wine in his breath makes her consider for a moment that he's messing with her, but she also wants to enjoy the attention.

"h-how would you take his life?" the girl straightens her back, trying to sound more confident.

"i would slit his throat, as easy as slicing a warm pie," ghost says it as if it's nothing, his running along her cheek. "i could take you far away, we would live in a house by the sea and you could wear pretty dresses for only me to see."

her breath hitches, feeling that flutter in her stomach. jesus christ. her hands clutch onto her cute little dress as she squeezes her thighs together. now she regrets giving her virginity to that twig, when a man like this could've had it, a man who truly deserves her purity.

"now be a smart girl and return to the feast." ghost murmurs and turns to walk back to the feast.

what?

she quickly reaches forward, desperately clinging onto the man's arm, to keep him there. if she let's go now, he might just come across a wench or two and change his mind. "b-but you said that-!" she stammers, utterly confused by the change in the air. there's no one there for her. no one who she's welcome to. her heart aches. she thought that this prince wanted her. what did she do wrong? ghost scoffs, gently prying the girls hands off his forearm. "you think it’ll be like a story, a hero slaying the villain and sweeping the princess off her feet. but this is real life," his tone is suddenly colder, more detached. “you’re chasing something that will never be yours.”

her hands stay in the air for a moment when he pulls away from her, reluctant to let go. his words sting, dig in deep and leave a pit for her to collapse in. her hands fall down and settle over her stomach as she fidgets with them.

she opens her mouth to say something, but the words escape her. it all changed so fast. some wench must've bewitched him, taken him from her. why can't she have anything, not even a man who wants her?

he looks at her again, his gaze intense, unflinching. his expression hardens, though there’s still a part of him that almost looks regretful. and then, he just walks away.

the princess can do nothing else than stand in place and hold back tears. she's alone again. the moonlight makes her shaking hands look blue. did she misunderstand? did she wrongly assume the meaning of his words? or was she just so naive?

it hurts to think, and the thoughts themselves hurt even more. it'd better if she just went to bed. ------------------------------------

inspired by the fact that i'm ugly and never had a boyfriend

stick season

Roommate: Chan x Reader

Roommate Chan who wants to help you destress with a massage after a long day... Content: Just straight-up smut Warnings: Fingering, praise, degradation, a little humiliation WC: 1100

You were laying on the couch with Chan. 

Chan has been your roommate for some time and your friend for longer than you could remember, so to be sprawled across the couch, limbs somewhat intertwined and a movie to be played in the background was nothing unfamiliar. Especially after a long day at work, taking the time to unwind together was nothing new. 

But today you were just so tense. Stiff all over, muscles tense and sore, you were unable to find relief. You suppose that your gym workout from yesterday had been a little intense, and you were certainly feeling it now. 

Subconsciously as you watched, you started to punch your legs a little bit, trying to get the tightened muscles to relax. 

Chan’s hands shot out and grabbed your own, making you freeze. 

“What are you doing, babygirl?” He sounded concerned but the nickname made sparks fly through your body. 

“Nothing,” you say, trying to explain it away. Of course, Chan would never let that happen. 

He doesn’t let go of his grasp on your hand. “You call punching your legs ‘nothing?’” He inquires. 

“My legs are just a little sore,” you sigh. “It was leg day yesterday.” 

“Ahhh,” he says, as if that explains everything. Maybe it did. His eyes are back on the screen, but his hands are grabbing your legs to place them over his lap, pulling you even closer to him.  

“What are you–” 

“Shhh, helping,” he says. His big, strong hands are on your legs now, his dexterous fingers working into your muscles. You let out a sigh of relief as you feel him working away the tension, his thumbs moving over your thighs to rub deep yet gentle circles into your skin.  You’re aware of every movement, however, and you hate how flustered his actions have you. Chan never shied away from physical touch, and he’s even given you a brief platonic shoulder massage before. As your roommate, of course he’s seen you in more vulnerable scenarios, seeing into the more casual or intimate aspects of your life, but this… you couldn’t help but stare at the man who seemed so unfazed. 

As he rubs into a particularly sore area, you let out a tiny groan. 

“Feels good?” he asks, a small smirk splaying across his features but his eyes glued to the screen. 

You nod your head. The tone of his voice has arousal running through your entire body and your breath hitches as he moves higher, still only mid-thigh. You hope he doesn’t catch your reaction–surely he won’t, he’s not even watching you.  

Lightly he slaps the inside of your thigh, causing you to gasp. “Use your words,” he scolds. 

“Yes,” you answer, too fast. “Feels good, Chan.” 

“Good girl,” he praises, though the way he coos the words makes it feel less like a compliment. Your eyes stay glued to him and the way he stays unaffected; his words make you squeeze your thighs together lightly, searching for a little relief. What you weren’t expecting was for him to grab the flesh of your thigh hard between his fingers, causing you to let out a moan. 

“Such a filthy girl,” he says. “Here I am trying to give you a massage and make you feel good but you’re over here having dirty thoughts, aren’t you?” His hand stays between your legs, rubbing your inner thigh but not making its way higher. You squeeze your legs harder, trapping his hand between your legs. 

“Need you, Chan. Touch me, please?” You decide to just say it, just needing to get past the hurdle knowing it will be worth it. He doesn’t let up as easily as you think though. 

“Oh? But I am touching you, sweet girl,” he says, pinching your inner thigh and causing you to spread them open for him. “Or are you talking about your needy pussy?” He trails his hand up, resting it against your clothed core. You nod your head unabashedly and he laughs at your excitement. His eyes are on you now, finally, and you burn under his gaze. You watch as he pushes the fabric to the side and dips his fingers shallowly into your entrance, gathering your arousal on his fingers. He pulls out to show you how soaked his fingers are. 

“Look how wet you are for me, baby,” he praises. “My sweet, dirty girl is so needy for me, all from a little touching.” 

“Just for you,” you confirm, and you watch him take a deep breath, affected by your words. Sliding his hands back down to your center, he gathers more of your arousal and spreads it around your clit, circling slowly around the area with his fingers. It’s obvious from his stare that he is more than alright with taking his time with you, relishing in the way that you fall apart on his fingers. He hisses when you spread your legs open wide for him, giving him full access. He moves fast, grabbing your shorts and ripping them off of your body. When you close your legs again he tuts, grabbing them and forcing them wide open for him, slotting his body in between your legs. 

“Such a pretty pussy,” he says. He slides two fingers into your entrance now, shallowly fucking his fingers in and out of you. “Such a slutty pussy, for me.” You relinquish control and let him take over, submitting to the urge to arch your back and let out a loud moan. He continues to babble about how he can’t believe he’s waited for so long to have you like this, how he’s been thinking of touching your pussy for so long, and you start to tremble beneath him. 

“Chan,” you say, trying to warn the man, but he shushes you. 

“I got you,” he says. He shoves his fingers into you deeper but doesn’t change his pace, curling his fingers. “Let go for me.” That’s all you need to find your release, completely coming apart for him on his fingers. He sweet talks you right through your orgasm, slowing his movements. 

You watch as he pulls his fingers out of you, looking deep into your eyes as he puts his fingers into his mouth and sucks. “So sweet,” he says, more to himself than to you. He reaches over your body for the remote, clicking the power button and turning off the device. The action makes you laugh. 

“What?” he laughs with you. “Don’t act like you were actually watching that, I definitely wasn’t.” You scoff at his words and screech as he picks you up, cradling you into his chest. 

“Your room or mine?”  ***

Author's note: Sorry not sorry for the double Chan post, he is my bias though so don't be surprised...

Masterlist Recs

I could make a serious Wicked review and talk about the vocals and the choreography and the costumes and the sets, which are all great, but this is tumblr, and I know that all of these aspects will not matter nearly as much as me reviewing the movie by how much gay subtext they put into it, so that's exactly what I'm gonna do.

Elphaba and Glinda are either holding hands or have their arms linked for about 70% of this movie. Literally, after they officially become friends these girls are attached at the hip.

'What Is This Feeling?' remains about as gay as it usually is, but I will highlight that they lie awake at night thinking about each other which. I know what you are etc etc

The scene where they dance together is. I have no words. That was beautiful. Both actresses put so much emotion into the sequence. And there's a moment where Glinda puts her hand on Elphaba's face, almost like she's brushing away the tears there, and that shit made me cry as well.

'Popular' is insanely homosexual. There's a scene where they're laying down on the bed looking into each other's eyes, and Glinda shifts to basically be on top of Elphaba. My jaw was on the floor. Just lots of touching and Looks all throughout.

When they go to see the Wizard all that casual touching I mentioned previously is multiplied by tenfold, and there are several moments where Elphaba looks at Glinda for reassurance, which was very sweet.

'Defying Gravity' made me just as emotional as I knew it would. I do wish they had hugged but honestly with all the handholding and the staring into each other's eyes, and Glinda wrapping the cloak around Elphaba, they gave us plenty. Once again the acting caught me by surprise (specially from Ariana), both of them communicate so much with just looks.

Anyway my overall thoughts are, these bitches gay, good for them. They did not tone down the subtext at all (like I know some people were worried would happen), and while they didn't make anything explicit either (which I never expected them to*), I'm confident that both Cynthia and Ariana understood the assignment in regards to the kind of relationship Glinda and Elphaba have in canon, and that was enough for me.

*I will admit that a secret corner of my little lesbian heart hoped beyond hope that they would include the scene from the book where Elphaba canonically kisses Glinda (iirc it's supposed to be during Defying Gravity), but like, I always knew they wouldn't.