#Have you ever thought about how wonderful and terrible it must be to stand before a god

[morverenmaybewrites]

I just wrote 8,000 words in two days. My brain is liquid. My thoughts are mush. :D

[emmylksblog]

THE WEDDING RING // H. FORT

summary: reader lost her wedding ring and tries to hide it from her husband

contents: angst, comfort

warnings: my first time ever writing so be patient with grammar errors

a/n: idk if this is good but if you want part 2 tell me in the comments and if you like my writing feel free to request, i only write about hector fort and some barcelona players

You were sitting on the couch, looking through a pile of cushions and under the couch cushions, clearly stressed and worried. You quickly put everything back in place as you hear the front door open and your dear husband who you didn´t want to see now walks in, home from training.

"Love, I'm home!"

Trying to act casual you get up and greet him with a kiss on his cheek "Oh, hey! I didn't expect you home so early." You stand up quickly and try to hide the fact that you were just frantically looking for your wedding ring something.

Clearly, something was bothering her for her to be acting this way, he'd never seen her like this before and they had been living together for 2 years, he considered it a long time to know her well enough and to notice so easily her changes in mood.

Hector left his training bag on the couch and approached you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close against his chest. He nuzzled his face into your hair, inhaling deeply. "I know you've been worried about something," he murmured, his voice low and soft. "You don't have to say anything yet, I'll wait till you're ready to talk about it."

You turned in his embrace and playfully mock-scrunches your nose at him. "Ugh, you smell terrible!" you exclaimed jokingly. "Did you roll around in mud after training or something?" Hector chuckled and feigned offense. "Hey, I'll have you know, this is the smell of a real man." He joked back. You smiled and pushed him playfully. "Well, this real man needs to go take a shower. I'll start making dinner."

As he left to shower, you went to the kitchen to start preparing the meal. You tried to keep your mind occupied, but the thought of the lost ring kept nagging at you. You knew you had to tell Hector, but you were worried about how he would react.

----------

Your husband walks back into the room, towel around his neck and hair still damp. He sits down at the table and watches as you quickly finish setting everything up.

As you turn around to join him, you immediately notice his damp hair and can't help but nag. "You should really dry your hair properly. You'll catch a cold like this." Hector grins, clearly amused by your concern. "But I only like it when you dry it for me," he teases, reaching out to pinch your cheek.

You swat his hand away, giggling at his playful banter. "You're such a baby," you tease, "training must have gone well for you to be this cheeky."

Hector chuckled at your comment, knowing that you knew him too well. "It went pretty good," he said, "We did some endurance drills today and I managed to run a few miles faster than usual. The guys were in awe of my speed, as always." He said jokingly, flexing his muscles in a mocking display of pride.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his antics. "You're insufferable, you know that?" you said, trying to bite back a smile. "Always bragging about how fast and strong you are."

They continued eating and the conversation slowly died down to a comfortable silence. Hector was oblivious to her inner turmoil, relishing the peace that came with the meal. She, on the other hand, was eating silently, lost in her own thoughts.

Occasionally, she would glance at her left hand, silently panicking over the missing ring on her finger. She wondered how Hector hadn't noticed yet, but his focus seemed to be on his food.

Hector casually asks her to pass him a napkin, and she does so without thinking, using her left hand since it's closer. As he takes the napkin, he subconsciously takes hold of her hand, his eyes darting to her ring finger. His smile fades as he realizes – her wedding ring is missing.

"Where's your ring?" he asks, his voice calm, yet tinged with confusion.

You quickly withdraw your hand from his, feeling the weight of guilt and nervousness. Trying to come up with an excuse, you mumble something about how you must have forgotten to put it on this morning. However, the excuse is flimsy and Hector immediately sees through it. "You never forget to put it on," he says, his expression serious now. "What's really going on?"

Hector's gaze is unwavering, the silence in the room nearly palpable. As you try to muster up the words to explain, tears well up in your eyes. The weight of the truth and the stress of the day finally catch up to you. You try to speak, but all that comes out is a choked sob. You can't bring yourself to tell him you lost the ring, even though his gaze demands the truth.

Hector's tough exterior softens instantly as he sees you struggling to speak through your tears. He gently pulls you into his arms, holding you against him.

"Shhh..." he murmured, his voice gentle. "It's okay, I'm not mad, just tell me what happened."

You bury your face into his shoulder, your words coming out in a teary mumble. "I... I was searching for it before you came," you said, "I looked everywhere, but I couldn't find it. I'm so sorry... I'm such a horrible wife. You shouldn't have married someone like me..."

He holds you tighter, his embrace comforting and protective. "No, no," he whispered, "Don't say that. You're not a bad wife because you lost something, accidents happen."

He pulled back slightly, gently lifting your chin to meet his gaze. "I married you because I love you, for everything that you are. And a ring doesn´t define our love"

Hector softly kisses your forehead, holding you close against him. You remain like that for a while, cuddled up on the couch, taking comfort in each other's presence. Gradually, your exhaustion catches up to you, and drift off to sleep in the embrace of your husband, your head resting on his chest.

----------

[otomehoneyybearr]

Kagari Amagase

What Lies Ahead of Connecting the Past and Present

Taglist: @candied-boys

In the country of Kogyoku, it’s said that good things will come to you if the tea leaves stand upright in your brewed tea."

However, when I entered the forest, I encountered Prince Kagari holding a sword in one hand while grabbing a child by the collar with the other.

Emma: "W-What are you doing!?"

???: "......!"

Kagari: "Princess, what a coincidence. What brings you to the forest?"

Emma: "The weather was nice, so I thought I'd take a walk in the... No, what are you planning to do with this child?"

Kagari: "Exactly as you imagined, I was about to give him a quick stab."

Kagari: "He’s the potential cause of future misfortune. He needs to be dealt with before it's too late."

Emma: "A source of misfortune... He looks like a normal child to me. Surely, you must be mistaken."

Kagari: "I wouldn't mistake myself."

Emma: "Yourself?"

(This child has... red hair in braids, green eyes... he’s the spitting image of Prince Kagari.)

???: "...Who are you?"

Emma: "I'm Emma. Can you tell me your name?"

Little Kagari: "...Kagari."

(If he has the same name, then...)

Emma: "Is this a dream?"

Kagari: "If this is a dream, then there shouldn’t be problem with me laying my hands on him, right? No problem at all."

Emma: "No, no, you can’t! If you point your sword at this child again, I won't talk to you anymore."

Kagari: "......"

(Thank goodness... he put his sword away.)

Emma: "Why are you in the forest, Little Kagari? Or was it Big Kagari that brought you here?"

Little Kagari: "I was playing in my brother's room, but before I knew it, I was in the forest."

Little Kagari: "Then as I walked around, I met the adult me."

Little Kagari: "I was impressed because it's the first time I've met someone stronger than me."

(His expression hasn't changed, but his eyes are sparkling a bit... how cute.)

(It’s the first time he’s met someone stronger than himself, huh... Then he was skilled in swordsmanship at such a young age.)

Emma: “I see.... In that case, you might return to your brother’s room after some time passes."

Emma: "How about we stay together until then?"

Little Kagari: "...Is that okay?"

Emma: "Of course."

Kagari: "You’re so optimistic, Princess."

Kagari: "But it's better than wasting time overthinking this impossible situation."

Emma: "You’re staying with us too, Prince Kagari?"

Kagari: "Just to keep an eye on you in case you do something strange."

Kagari: "And because it's convenient."

(Convenient?)

Emma: "I don’t think there’s anything to worry about, but it’s reassuring to have you with us."

Kagari: "Good answer. Let's go."

Emma: "Huh? Where to...? Ah, Prince Kagari, you don't need to pull my hand, I'll follow you."

Emma: "Little Kagari, can I hold your hand?"

Little Kagari: "......?"

Emma: "It would be terrible if you got lost."

Little Kagari: "...Like this?"

Emma: "Yes, thank you."

Little Kagari: "......"

Little Kagari: "...Warm."

.....

Emma: "Wow...! I didn't know there was a festival going on in the nearby town."

Kagari: "You're still new to Kogyoku, so it's only natural."

Kagari: "It's on the smaller side, but do you like it?"

Emma: "Yes!"

(There are so many stalls I've never seen in Rhodolite.)

(Goldfish scooping, ring toss, cherry-flavored tea leaves, bread, dumplings, grilled meat!? I wonder if it's tasty... Ah.)

Emma: "Was that 'convenient' comment from earlier because you planned to invite me to this festival?"

Kagari: "Yes. Although an unexpected stray cat tagged along."

Little Kagari: "...Is that me?"

Kagari: "Yes, you."

Emma: "Oh, please don't put it like that."

Emma: "But thank you. I'm really happy!"

Kagari: "I know."

Little Kagari: "......"

(Little Kagari is looking around a lot.)

Emma: "It would be nice if there's a dorayaki stall around."

Little Kagari: "...Why?"

Emma: "Hm? Don’t you like dorayaki?"

Little Kagari: "...I’ve only ever eaten candy."

Kagari: "I see... he’s from before he met Keith. No wonder."

(So he wasn't a dorayaki fanatic yet at this age.)

(Even so, having only candy for sweets...)

(He doesn't look weak, nor does he seem to dislike sweets, so he might have been raised strictly.)

Emma: "Little Kagari, is this your first festival?"

Little Kagari: "......Yeah. I've seen them from the castle before."

(He's still small, and given his royal status, he probably can't just go out freely.)

(That makes this even more special...)

Emma: "Then let's enjoy it to the fullest today!"

Emma: "Is there any stall that catches your eye?"

Little Kagari: "......No. Anything is fine with me."

Kagari: "There must be something. Speak up."

Little Kagari: "........"

(He seems a bit hesitant.)

(I guess Prince Kagari was the type who had trouble expressing his opinions when he was a child.)

(He's looking around, so there must be something that interests him, just as Prince Kagari said.)

(Maybe I can figure it out by following his gaze.)

Emma: "Ah, you're interested in the candy apples, aren't you?"

Little Kagari: "!"

(Great, that reaction means I got it right.)

.....

Emma: "How's the candied apple?"

Little Kagari: "......It’s tasty. And they're shiny and pretty."

(Haha, he's stuffing his mouth full.)

Little Kagari: "......Want some?"

Emma: "Can I? Just one bite then... mmm, it's sweet and delicious."

Kagari: "If you're going to spoil someone, spoil me, Princess."

Emma: "If I'm going to spoil anyone, I'd like to spoil both of you."

Kagari: "Greedy Princess."

Emma: "Don't sulk. After the candy apple, let's have some dorayaki! Come on, both of you, let's go."

Little Kagari: "......Shall we hold hands?"

Emma: "Can we?"

Little Kagari: "......I want to."

(Gah, the way he looks away as he says it is just too adorable...)

Kagari: "The adult me is cute too."

Emma: "D-Don't read my mind and try to compete with him."

Kagari: "Don't worry, it was just written all over your face."

(Does that mean I had a silly expression? That’s more embarrassing than having my mind read...)

(What, Rain!? Even though it was just sunny...)

Emma: "Let's find somewhere to take shelter from the rain—whoa!"

Little Kagari: ".........!"

Kagari: "Hold still if you don't want to be dropped."

(Prince Kagari is strong enough to carry both me and Little Kagari under his arms while running!?)

Kagari: "The rain should stop soon enough."

Emma: "That's good. I still want to enjoy the festival some more."

Emma: "Little Kagari, you ‘re a bit wet, so let me dry you off with a handkerchief."

Little Kagari: "......It's fine. It'll dry soon."

Emma: "Pretty please? I just really, really want to dry you off!"

Little Kagari: "......Alright."

Little Kagari: "......"

(Oh. Is he happy? Haha, I'm glad to see him showing different expressions little by little.)

Kagari: "........"

Emma: "That should do it. Next is—Prince Kagari!? "

Kagari: "What's the matter, Princess?"

Emma: "I should be asking you that! Why are you standing in the rain!?"

Kagari: "I wanted to be dried off too."

Emma: "I was already going to do that! Anyway, come back under here quickly, or you'll catch a cold."

Kagari: "Oh, you're so being forceful, Princess."

Emma: "I have to be... geez."

(His hair is dripping wet! I need to dry him off quickly.)

Little Kagari: "........"

Kagari: "Being dried off by you feels nice. Makes me want to purr."

Emma: "I'm angry, you know?"

Kagari: "You’re cute even when you’re angry."

Emma: "Um, well, thank you... but don't deliberately get wet in the rain again, okay?"

(Alright, this should be good enough.)

Little Kagari: "... Miss Emma."

(What— just now...)

Emma: "Little Kagari, did you just call my name—wait, how are you even more wet than before!?"

(What happened!?)

(Could it be that he imitated adult Kagari...?)

Little Kagari: "......I want you to dry me again, Miss Emma."

Little Kagari: "It felt warm and cozy."

(I knew it...!)

Emma: "Oh, you'll catch a cold from this kind of coziness!"

Little Kagari: "Wha... you're a bit rougher than before."

Emma: "It’s punishment for being bad.”

Kagari: "Being punished by the Princess... sounds nice."

Emma: "Prince Kagari, don't you dare try getting wet in the rain again—achoo!"

Kagari & Little Kagari:

"........"

Kagari & Little Kagari:

"......Sorry."

"......I’m sorry."

Emma: "......I'm sorry too."

(Hm, getting hugged from both sides to warm me up is so unfair...)

(When you do something this cute, I can't stay mad!)

In the end, I spent a blissful time being warmed up by these spoiled cats until the rain stopped.

▼・ᴥ・▼

[wannaeatramyeon]

Goo Kim x Reader: Patience

G/N. Fluffy. 4.7k. Another friends to lover with Goo falling first

You're used to Goo's melodrama. You've known him since middle school, survived to tell the tale, hung around post-Juvie and joined him in HNH Group so of course you are used to this guy.

He considers you his best friend, partner in crime. Looks at you with a wicked smile that you return before descending into whatever diabolical plans you have cooked up.

(Goo likes to joke that he's the brawn and you're the brain when he's feeling particularly kind and charitable and you counter with that he's neither.)

And of course this includes witnessing his growth spurt from ankle biter to the somewhat reasonable specimen that he is now. Though you've never looked at him that way, it's a little icky if anything, and you just nod kindly when he tells you how hot he is.

You guess it must be true to some extent. He has a lot of pretty men and women hanging off him. An ever revolving door of beautiful people that you doubt he's winning over with his charming personality.

(Sometimes you take pause and wonder why you get on so well. Maybe it says a lot about your own charming personality but you handwave away any fleeting moments of introspection.)

Objectively, you suppose, he's fine. Like you wouldn't kick him out of bed. Although that's not entirely true. You have shared a bed many times, kicked him out more than you can count when he hogs your duvet and drools on your pillow.

However. It is funny and kind of endearing to watch him wake up bleary eyed. Pillowcase wrinkles pressed into his face, blonde hair a nest, as he pats around for his glasses.

Either way, it doesn't matter. You're childhood friends. You know him better than you know yourself and you think Goo can say the same for you. But he just doesn't give you those gooey fuzzy feelings.

Never has. Never will.

Goo would definitely agree with that too.

.

.

…Except he doesn't.

Well, he doesn't like to think about it, is what it is.

For all his drama and chaotic energy, he stuffs this down and ignores it. Do you know how difficult this is for him? Of course you don't. Goo is loud and boisterous and obnoxious. So to continue to act like everything is normal, to be patient and quiet and not howl and wail about it goes against everything that he stands for.

He can't pinpoint it, ok. Has no idea what changed or when.

Maybe it was when you were kissing that guy with the terrible fashion sense who he thought was fathoms below your league.

(Thank the heavens you came to your senses a week later and ditched him. Even if it took a lot of sly insults and put-downs from Goo to help you along the way.)

Or when you said you thought Gun was pretty handsome and Goo nearly threw up in disgust.

(Goo was particularly vicious to Gun for a short while after that. Hissing at him every time, calling him all sorts of childish names and relishing how the vein in his temple twitched.)

Or it could be the way you took care of him over the years. Waiting for him at an ungodly hour in the morning when he bounced out of juvie and into his first day of freedom. Accompanied him shopping as he spent his first HNH Group paycheck. Bandaged up his many injuries, taking care of age old scars, all the while chuckling at how pathetic he is even with a wetness in your eyes.

Something blossomed for Goo. 

Slowly but surely, blooming from a weak seedling and unfurling, growing into a hardy evergreen that never dies, never wilts. Kept steady and healthy by your sharp tongue and knowing eyes.

Whose roots are deeply embedded into Goo's core. That there's no way of ever untangling or removing.

.

.

So yes, Goo has an ever revolving door of distractions.

And if it's something to test the water now and then, to see if your face drops at seeing a new trophy on Goo's arm, then who can blame him for that working in his favour.

It never happens though. You're polite and courteous when you are greeted with his fling. A face you have likely seen in magazines and on the screen but will eventually forget about after their 15 seconds of fame and Goo.

Does it matter that maybe Goo should be direct and stop toying with everyone's feelings. Sure. But the odds aren't in his favour so why not have some fun. This is also Goo Kim you're talking about.

In all honesty, he's still a bit- a lot of an asshole.

.

.

"Why do I even like you," Goo mutters under his breath when he sees you dripping sauce down your top for the N-th time in so many minutes.

Your current hand eye coordination leaves a lot to be desired, and your table manners are atrocious. Goo sits and sighs, hand resting on his palm, watching you trying to clean yourself up when you're only working the stain into your shirt harder.

"Fuck, this is going stain forever isn't it." You frown at the brown splodge across your chest.

"No shit."

"Damnit."

"Let's go shopping after," Goo says, and what he means is I'll buy you a new shirt because you're an idiot and I'm not walking around with you looking like that.

"Again?!" You pull a face, and what you mean is thanks for taking care of me.

.

.

Goo has a theory. One he doesn't want to test or be proven wrong but he thinks about it all the time nevertheless.

Like right now. When you're rifling through the racks picking out clean clothing and he has time on his hands to think.

His theory is that you like him too.

He can imagine you scoffing when you hear that, rolling your eyes and accusing him of being delusional. Which ok, he admits he is. But he's not that out of touch. Even he knows how it sounds. 

He has realised the way you feel about him from the way you look at him, how you seek him out, the way you brighten seeing his handsome face even if you don't realise it yourself. You're just too stubborn to admit it.

There is no way on earth he can force this, and he is oh so very used to brute forcing his way through things with unscrupulous methods, so he waits for you to come to the realisation on your own and eventually bat your eyelashes at him and announce your own feelings.

Except it's taking a good while, and hasn't he already mentioned he's not the patient kind? You're not doing either of those things, nowhere close.

In fact, you're actually exiting the changing rooms in a new outfit that is far too flattering and spinning around for Goo to observe.

"Looking good, Sweetheart," he tells you, leaning back to take in the view with a cat smile. "You should get it."

And you do. Fishing out the credit card that Goo pays off every month to complete the transaction.

.

.

If Goo is someone that keeps count, and he absolutely is despite playful appearances, then he would know it's been years since the feelings have crept up on him.

And if he were to consider when his theory started, it would probably be around two years ago.

Yes, you do spend some nights together. Usually due to running errands from Charles Choi and it's more convenient, or more often because of Goo hanging around too long and too late in your home then refusing to leave.

But he reckons the turning point might have been two years ago when you were the one that stayed at his penthouse. Goo was riddled with some deadly disease (a cold actually, but it was a pretty bad cold to be fair) and you sort of unwillingly took on the role of caretaker.

How could you not? 

No-one else likes him half as much as you do. He's got more enemies than he knows what to do with who would rob him in his state then kill him without so much as a second glance.

You’re sure even Gun and Crystal and Kouji would finish him off then throw a party about it.

For that week, Goo’s usual quips and sharp edges were nowhere to be seen although he definitely did more than his usual share of moaning and whining.

But he was adorable. Pink cheeked and red nosed, hair in disarray, wallowing in his comfiest sweatpants and hoodie. A million miles away from his suited and booted, meticulously styled persona. Half lucid, curled around you or with his head in your lap looking absolutely weak and pathetic.

It's your fondest memory of Goo Kim.

You saw him at his worst, all soft and squishy and vulnerable and it did something to your heart ever since.

Goo knows this. The way you act around him, how you look at him, hasn't been the same since that week.

There's a softness, affection, that wasn't there before. It's just a shame you're too ignorant to your own feelings and any flirtatious behaviour from Goo is just seen as him being his usual fun self.

So he waits and waits, even as he loses grip of his sanity and falls more for you with each passing day.

.

.

Kindness is often repaid, and your kindness comes full circle in the present day when you're the one that falls ill.

It's a rare thing for something to knock you off your feet as much as this has. It started with a sniffly nose and Goo recoiling in horror when an unexpected sneeze crept up and you sprayed spittle in his car.

A cough also accompanied the snot a few days later. Goo rubbing circles into your back turned into thumping and you shoving him away from you, sputtering and hacking in his direction for good measure.

You continued to work, with Goo's stares growing more concerned and exasperated by the day. Likely making yourself much worse and prolonging any recovery until-

You're bedridden. Switching between hot flush and cold shivers and feeling worse than death.

"You only have yourself to blame," Goo mother hens around you, feeling smug. "I told you so."

In your delirium, you can hardly make out the words but a part of your brain, refined after spending so many years in Goo’s presence feels a surge of annoyance.

A hand reaches out to feel your forehead. "Ew, clammy" and you try to bat it away without success.

You're given pills and medicine over the next couple days. Water and herbal teas carefully tipped down your throat and spoonfed hearty meals in your delirious state. Idle chit chat passes through one ear and out the other. You flutter somewhere between half awake and passed out.

At some point, you become lucid enough to poke the body next to you and ask, "Why aren't you at work?"

Goo, burrito-ed in your duvet after you kicked it off for being too warm, and snoozing happily moments ago, turns and glares at you. Wants to point out that it's currently 4am so please shut the fuck up.

Instead, he looks into your eyes that are sort of looking at him but looking through him; notices the sheen of sweat across your brow and laboured breathing. He decides to be nice, for now. 

Voice groggy, he says "Go back to sleep," and gives you a pat on the head to send you on your way.

There's no work for Goo today at 4am. There's no work for him for the last few days either or for the foreseeable. Concludes it better for you to come to your own realisation that he took the time off so he could look after you.

There is no work, no other priorities for him, when you're like this.

Goo sighs and grumbles as he falls back to sleep. About making less money, about having to put up with Gun complaining when he's back.

Still, as he feels you curling your body around his back, your arm slung across his hips - he guesses he doesn't mind, if he can have this.

.

.

Your fever breaks on a Thursday. Lucky for you, it coincides with your medicine running out. Nonetheless, Goo insists on a supply run.

"But I'm fine," you whine, despite being completely not fine and stumbling out of bed.

Goo mutters something about the 'state of you', pushes you back into bed with one hand and cackles when you fall back with an 'oomph!' and minimal force.

"I'm going out." Goo states with no room for argument. 

Something in you clicks at hearing such a no nonsense, authoritative tone.

The bratty side of you insists on at least joining him. It's been days since you left your home, left your bed. You're going stir crazy. Fresh air will do you good.

Goo rolls his eyes as your reasons spill out in a jumble. Lips quirking, he gives in. "Fine."

You hate to admit this, but Goo is right. You'll never tell him though, lest his ego is inflated further.

But the bright noon sun, the city crowd, and the fluorescent lights of the pharmacy are overwhelming.

Has Goo always walked so quick, been so sure in his strides? Cutting easily through the throngs of people.

You trail him, struggling to keep up.

Goo glances over his shoulder, sees you looking bewildered and falling behind. He slows, stretches his hand out to yours and intertwines your fingers with his.

Leaning into your ear, he murmurs "Stay with me."

Something else inside you clicks at his breath ghosting over your skin and the sight of your hands joined together.

The pharmacy is a labyrinth. Aisles and aisles of medicine and toiletries and whatever else overwhelms your delicate senses.

Only the view of Goo's broad back and your hand in his keeps you steady. He winds this way and that, foot sure in where he's going but pace slowing to match yours.

"Here we are," Goo stops, arriving at the destination, untangling your hands and you slam into him.

"Careful sweetheart," he gives you a quick toothy grin before examining the rows and rows of packaged pills and bottled syrups.

Hands now in pocket, he bends at the waist, getting a closer look. Frown creeping over his face when his brand of choice is nowhere to be seen.

"Shit. C'mon, let's find someone to see if they have it in stock." He tilts his head and signals you to follow.

Or at least you try to. One moment he was in front of you, his bleached hair and tall lean physique within reach.

The next, he turned the corner and so did you. Except he vanishes. Completely into thin air.

Fuck.

If you were feeling like yourself, you would know that this pharmacy is only a block away from your home. You've been here a million times. You can wait for him outside if you have to.

But you don't feel like yourself. You feel like a kid lost in a sea of people. Suffocating between bodies and bright shiny plastic crap. Too small to know where to go or find the exit and your one lifeline, Goo, is nowhere to be seen.

"Shit," you look around, check behind you and down more aisles. "Shit shit shit."

The panic lodges itself into your chest and your stomach sinks. More faceless nobodies get in your way, blocking your view and your path, moving too quick for you to cut a route through.

"Where the fuck is he-"

A hand rests on your hip, stops you moving another step and you feel a chest lightly pressed against your back.

Anyone else and you would have spiralled further, but you already recognise who it is.

"Didn't I tell you to stay with me," Goo growls lowly into your ear.

It cuts through your fever induced haze, your sickness induced panic. It shoots into the pit of your stomach and travels like a lightning bolt straight to your groin.

When you turn your head, milimetres away from Goo's own, see an eyebrow arched, the amusement in his eyes and the smirk on his lips-

Your own desire is reflected in his glasses.

The final piece clicks into place.

.

.

Life moves on.

You get better, and you both return to work. You have a mountain of paperwork to catch up on and Goo has to put up with Gun once more.

However. Goo now knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that his theory is correct. He also knows that the realisation is starting to sink in for you too. 

He's seen the look in your eyes, it's blatant as hell. Somewhere between the pharmacy and the walk home you looked at him like he was a new person. Eyes greedy and roving all over his body (which did wonderful things to his ego, by the way).

That doesn't mean he doesn't like it.

You could hardly keep track of conversation, eyes always dipping to stare at his lips. And sure, Goo knows he has very sexy lips, but with the way you eyeball him... He actually feels-

Exposed.

Objectified.

It's just...

Unusual.

That's not even considering the flirtatious banter that returned full force once you were well enough to appreciate it. You've had years and years and years of it. Never batted an eyelid at Goo's innuendos and indecent words. Except now-

You're kneeling down on the floor, rifling through your bag for your wallet you've either left at home or in Goo's office. Neither of which are appealing options.

Goo continues to ramble, as he does. You're feeling around for the familiar touch of leather, holding eye contact with him as he mentions something about a new manga chapter-

But then a salacious smile spreads over his face as he realises the compromising position you're in. On your knees, at head height with his crotch and staring directly into his eyes. It's really a very intimate scene. Easy for minds to wander.

"Get off your knees, Sweetheart. Seeing you at this angle is killing me."

Goo pours all his dirty thoughts into that sentence, and you jolt like you've been struck. You can feel the heat under your collar spreading to your face and the tips of your ears.

Goo notices too, because he glances at your crimson ears and his grin only stretches further.

You are 100% certain that sentence changed your brain chemistry forever. You’ve thought about what it could mean every night since.

.

.

With each passing day, Goo knows you are also losing grip of your sanity too. He hit that point a long time ago and his chest swells with pride knowing you're following in his footsteps.

But Goo is an eternal little shit. He thinks where's the fun in confessing straight away. Why put an end to this game that has lasted so long. He's having the time of his life and frankly, you're so much fun to mess with.

He couldn't believe he went so long without knowing what a pretty shade you turn when you flush. How much your pupil blows open when you're looking at him and thinking your own obscene thoughts. The way you now flinch at his touch but lean in almost straight away.

And the nights. Oh the delicious nights. He spends more time playing sleepover with you than is healthy.

Even if he deprives himself of his own sleep, it's simply so much fun hearing you tossing and turning into the early hours of the morning. You can’t fall asleep knowing that he is next to you, that you want to touch him and hold him but can't. You're on edge, imagination running wild, but unable to do anything about it.

You're sporting matching bags under your eyes but Goo can't bring himself to mind. He is having the best time.

The revolving door of arm candy also stops. It was never serious in the first place, and now that Goo knows you reciprocate his feelings, even he isn't that mean. There's no-one else he needs as a distraction because there's nothing to distract himself from.

Still, if he name-drops a couple made up people in conversation with you, a few fibs and tall tales to make you jealous, see your nostrils flare and your lips thin then who has to know.

.

.

The first bit of doubt presents itself late that night, when Goo is surprisingly in his own bed and you are miles away.

What if you try to distract your own feelings with other people? Sure you're not the type but what if?

You probably feeling a bit unhinged with all your newfound feelings. Goo is doing nothing to help with his own silly game playing, so what if you develop your own revolving door of nobodies to distract you?

What if one of these nobodies turn into somebody?

Shit.

Goo doesn't sleep a wink.

As dawn breaks, he decides that the early bird gets the worm, or the early Goo gets you (Goo cackles to himself at his wit) and thinks today is as good a day as any.

Before anyone with their grimy mitts swoop in and steal you from right under him.

Maybe he only had himself to blame and he was a touch mean playing around with your feelings, but it's a small price to pay for how you have made him feel for years.

It's settled. You and him. Today. No-one is getting in the way of that.

.

.

The day starts off as normal.

Despite the lack of sleep, the alarm for work rings and Goo leaps out of bed with a bounce in his step. Whistles cheerily as he takes his morning shower, lathering himself in luxurious body washes and styling his hair with expensive products.

He chooses a suit that you picked out with him, knots a tie that he recalls you placing around his neck and selects a cologne that he knows is your favourite - every time he wears it, you drift a touch closer.

He drives fast and like a madman, grinning at everyone that flips him off or honks him and navigates to your block. 

You’re already waiting outside, two drinks in hand and smiling cutely when you see his car even if other drivers are still throwing him dirty looks.

“Morning,” You say, climbing in and handing him his coffee. Triple shot with triple syrup and whipped cream, sweet and sickly just like Goo himself.

“Good morning, Sweetheart.” He beams, reaching over to pat your thigh for thanks and enjoying the way you blush and squirm, taking a sip of your own drink to take your mind off the way your skin sears with his touch.

Goo mimics you, takes a gulp of his sugary concoction and finds it extra delicious on this fine morning and smacks his lips in delight.

“You-” You glance over and giggle.

“What?”

You gesture to your upper lip and Goo flips down his visor, examining his whipped cream moustache.

“Maybe I’m saving it for later.”

“Idiot.”

“You’re the idiot.”

Goo leaves the whipped cream. He doesn’t wipe it off. He doesn’t wipe it off when he smacks your hand away from changing the music, he doesn’t wipe it off as he drives to the office, nor when he parks up and unclips his seatbelt.

“Goo,” you say, exasperated at the state of him.

“Y/N,” he says, mocking and matching your tone.

“Wipe your face.”

“No.”

“You look a mess.”

“So do you.”

“You-” Goddamn. You make a split decision. “Fuck it.”

Goo doesn’t move as he sees your hand coming towards him, doesn’t move when you swipe at his upper lip, cleaning the cream off his face, doesn’t move when you lift your thumb to your mouth.

Doesn’t move, can’t; doesn’t breathe, forgets how to, when you suckle on your thumb and lick all remnants away.

Fuck it indeed. That’s Goo’s plans blown to shit.

Thing is, he had this whole scenario planned out. More flirtation and Goo being Goo and you being you until it comes to a head this evening and he confesses. 

Perhaps after he has pissed you off so much for one reason or another and you tell him to get out of your home and he shuts you up with a kiss; or maybe after he has teased you so much you’re a wreck and he finally takes pity and breaks the tension with a well timed smooch.

But goddamn, what a move. He’s supremely impressed and he really has been uncharacteristically patient for so very long, for so many years and he thinks that he deserves this.

“That was really hot,” he grins and he chuckles at the shock on your face.

“My turn-” Goo, voice dropping to barely a whisper, leans over the centre console and crosses into your space.

If he were more of a romantic, he would have wanted your first kiss to be anywhere other than the HNH Group parking lot where it’s dingy and grey, and the lights are flickering.

But you’re both in a fragile bubble. In the privacy of his car, and too wrapped up in the moment to really care about the when or where or how.

Goo closes the gap and kisses you.

It’s minty and barely a peck, your eyes flutter close and you can feel him smiling through it.

He kisses you. And there’s something so Goo and so right about it that you can’t think about anything else except that it is happening. That something really did click when you were ill, and afterwards you had a newfound clarity and a newfound headache because Goo was all you could think about for weeks and weeks.

When he pulls away, you subconsciously move forward, trying to chase his lips with yours.

“How was that, sweetheart?”

You open your eyes, the reality of kissing Goo sinking in, and let out a squeak, “What was that?”

You slam your mouth shut because that was definitely not the tone you meant.

The damage is already done when uncertainty flickers across Goo’s face and he snaps,  “What do you mean what was that.”

“I meant what was that!” You get the mad urge to giggle. That even though you don’t mind this turn of events at all, the ridiculousness of Goo Kim kissing you makes you unwell. In the best way possible.

“It was-!” Goo’s jaw tenses, he flinches as if he had been punched and he had grossly misread the room. He crosses his arm defensively and backs away.

“No!” You surge forward, grabbing Goo by the tie and yanking him close to you, “I meant-” you bring your voice down a few decibels, “It was good. I liked it.”

“Thought you would, idiot.” Goo pouts, side eyeing you but letting you hold on to him.

“I can’t believe you kissed me.”

“Well you’ve been making it obvious.”

You want to smack him. Instead, you catch his bottom lip still jutting out and you think you would prefer to bite him.

You do just that. Yanking Goo forward as he braces himself for another kiss but you nip, harsh and leaving a mark, on his lip instead.

“Asshole.” He says but he’s grinning and reaching over the console for your hand. Lacing your fingers together and squeezing.

“Sorry,” you say and you don’t really feel sorry at all. You feel like you’re floating. 

You can’t believe how long it’s taken to get here. You can’t believe you’re here at all. But now that it’s happened, you’re surprised it didn’t happen sooner.

“Are we…?”

“I’m all yours, Sweetheart.” Goo smiles, wide and toothy, squeezing your hand to seal the deal.

You yank him by his tie once more, and he follows obediently, across the console and into your space, and kisses you over and over.

[pdpenpals]

hihi! i was wondering if i could get a romantic letter from phoenix drop high gene? she/they pronouns please :)

and for the context of the letter, maybe Gene & Reader recently started dating but can’t text because Reader is away at an academic sleep away camp (preferably centered around literature/writing)? Reader is on the more academic/nerdy side and not officially part of the SK so them doing these kinds of programs is their usual summer thing but it’s the first time Gene and Reader have been away from eachother since they started dating

tysm <33

hihi!! thanks for sending this in, i think this prompt’s absolutely adorable!

unrelated but speaking of literature whenever i see gene now that i’m older i think of heathcliff (more of the name) or the phantom for some reason.

your entire being perks up at the mention that a letter’s arrived, and your heart races as you go through who could have possibly sent it in your head. the moment you have it in your hands, you can almost tell exactly who it’s from. the envelope’s a dark gray, close enough to be black. there are stickers all over its back next to your name and address, same goes for the front. opening it, you catch a whiff of someone familiar’s cologne. that cheeky bastard. 

you notice almost immediately that there’s not only a letter inside, but a bunch of printed photos and some unused stickers. after finding a spot to settle your new goodies upon, you get comfy and get to reading.

Hey cutie. Miss me yet? 

Heard a fair’s coming to town soon. I think it’ll still be there when you get back. There should even be fireworks on the last day. We can go there if you wanna.

Other than that, nothing much happened today. Dante was out, and I had the house to myself for a good portion of the afternoon. Without sugarcoating it, I was bored out of my mind.

It took me a while to figure out my texts or calls weren’t getting through to you. Mom must have seen how frustrated I was about it, so she shared some of her spare stationery with me as a last resort. She said something about wanting to hear about how your summer’s been doing so far.

That’s all the small talk I can handle for today. You might get too tired of staring at only words for too long over there, so you might want to check out the pics taken these past few days. The stickers are from Zenix and Sasha by the way, they also say hi.

Kidding aside, I know how much this whole camp thing means to you.  But I’ve been feeling weird ever since you left. It’s weirder knowing you’re not nearby. When you’re not a walk or a call away. Even though I know exactly how many days and many hours are left until you come back.

Sappy shit out the way, I decided to read that one book you lent me at random. I’m not sure you remember it much since you hurriedly gave it to me without a second thought, but it’s that really old one about the day before the world ends. All that apocalyptic and sad shit. Even though I didn’t get it, I guess it was nice that Vincent and Leticia got their happy ending. To be honest, the book overall didn’t stand out to me much, but the concept of having one day left to live sure did.

If I knew the world was going to end tomorrow I would

Y’know, maybe it’s for the best I save it for when we meet again in person, so you better come back home in one piece, yeah?

With an aching heart and hand, Your Gene, who misses you terribly

PS. I feel like you’ve been rubbing off on me recently, state-of-mind-wise. While it’s not that bad, it gives me the chills.

PPS. If not having you near me hasn't driven me insane yet, I definitely will go mad if this letter doesn't make it to you. Especially after all I've put my wrist through just for this. Maybe I should visit the post office a few more times?

[misseviehyde]

BYE BITCH

By Erica

Edited by Evie Hyde

This is the story of a bitch called Britney and how not only her life, but the lives of several people would change forever one fateful day.

See her now as she stands at her mirror. See her and know her darkest thoughts…

******

The locket looked like any other. There was nothing remarkable about it, but it held power as old as your family bloodline, a power you would soon make use of. 

You stood looking in the mirror, an image of feminine perfection staring back at you. You were a hot busty blonde slut and perfect in every way. Long luscious legs, soft bronzed skin, silky hair and bitchy nails. Your tits were bigger and better than other women, your cleavage magnetic and your tight pussy the wet dream of every man.

Your superior genes had bred a perfect alpha bitch with an inflated narcissistic personality. You loved every inch of your body, and you were always supremely confident, but now your hands were shaking.

After all - who would willingly give up this body and this power?

What you were about to do was born of terrible desperation.  Nobody was going to threaten your position of power, so soon these wonderful feminine features would be gone, albeit temporarily. This was your last look at yourself before you did what must be done.

You were hesitant, apprehensive even with your sexy hands shaking as you opened the locket. As it popped open, you could feel a mystical force pull on your very being. It was a sensation unlike any you had ever felt before. And now the pain began. You groaned as your big tits began deflating, your best feature shrinking away to nothing. It felt terrible and you had done this to yourself. You only hoped you were doing the right thing.

Next your long blonde hair began turning brunette and receding back into your scalp till you were left with short boring hair. It itched and you missed the feeling of superiority your blonde locks gave you. 

You hissed as your bones began cracking and breaking and as you grew slightly taller, your flawless skin began to develop acne. You felt a tear run down your face. You hated how this felt. 

Next your vision blurred as your perfect blue eyes changed colour and you lost your perfect visual acumen. From now on you would need corrective lenses in this new nerdy form.

The slutty piercing in your navel dropped out as did your hooped earrings and as you gained weight you were now not only nerdy but chubby too. God you hated this body, it repulsed you but the worst part was still to come.

You felt a pulling sensation in your clit and once more you lost a piercing you liked. Your slutty clit piercing fell out leaving your pussy bare, but soon that slit began to close as a tiny cock and pathetic balls grew in its place. The kind of cock and balls you would have once bullied and mocked.

Sticking out your tongue you removed your piercing there, watching as the hole closed instantly as your white perfect teeth turned dull and crooked.

Kicking off your slutty white heels and wiggling out of your tiny denim shorts and designer top; you carefully placed your clothing and piercings into a ruck-sac. Now naked you could see just how pathetic your new body was.

You were now very much a boy and not the kind you were attracted to - a stud who you would love to rail - but a pathetic loser, a nerdy useless piece of worthless male flesh. God, you wished you were a hot blonde bitch again.

The pain ended as the last of your beauty and sexiness was sucked away. It left you feeling weak and unconfident. Even the way you stood was now unsure and ungainly. You felt so awkward in this new fat body. Your usual domineering hand gestures and bitchy looks replaced by a anxious frown - you had become everything you hated.

The locket in your hands slammed shut, safely locking your essence inside where it would remain until you needed it. You looked down, the innocent locket now contained everything that was you. Every drop of pure feminine bitchiness was inside. You could almost feel it fighting to get out, but for now you were a nerd and this body would serve your purposes well.

As hot and as perfectly bitchy you were before - that body was useless in this particular endeavour. How those useless nerds in the science club had managed to resist your feminine wiles was beyond your understanding, but for some reasons those sub-human sacks of pathetic male flesh had resisted you. But they would never best you now, not now you were one of them. Well - for now at least.

Elixir! that's what they called their miracle formula, a pink serum that would transform those nerds into Alpha bitches. Imagining them turning into girls like you made your stomach heave. It was laughable and there was no way you were going to let them win the day and join you at the top of the pyramid. There was only one immutable fact - bitches are born not created. They could never join you, it was against the laws of nature and bitchiness. That was why you had to stop them.

The plan was simple. Having failed to seduce one of their number (the fool) you would now become one of them. Infiltrating their little group of losers would be childs-play. All that remained was to find the formula and destroy it, ensuring they kept their place as pathetic  nerds and your position as an Alpha was unassailable, allowing you to continue dominating the school as a total bitch.

Your feminine clothes safely stored in the ruck-sac, you began to dress as a boy for the first time. Ugly white Y front, underpants, dorky grey trousers and a white shirt with a tie. You hated how this stuff looked. Fortunately you'd guessed you might need glasses - and bought a pair from a local shop. The prescription wasn't perfect - but good enough that you could see a little better.

You safely stashed the locket in your trouser pocket. It would look out of place around your neck, besides knowing the way nerds are treated at your school, one of the jocks might snatch it from your neck and play keep away with it. The risk of that was far too great.

It was time to go to school…

********

It felt so weird walking the halls of school without people looking at you with desire. Instead they barely even gave you a second glance and those that did, looked at you like you were something they stepped in; a look you usually reserved for the plebs yourself. Now… here… you were one of them.

This body felt so alien to you and not having your big tits made you body feel so off balance.  How do these nerds manage with such a tiny baby carrot dick hanging between their legs instead of a constantly needy slit? Not feeling the usual urge to get fucked was a bit strange, but now as a boy you felt nothing.

A short walk down the hall and you found yourself outside the science room. Normally you woudn’t be seen dead in there, although you did smile as you remembered that time you fucked Professor Green on one of the science benches. Mmmmh, taking his big cock was the best ‘A’ you ever had to work for.

Entering the science room you could see the group of nerds busy beavering away on their Elixir. You couldn't help but smirk as the genius of your evil plan to ensure they never knew the pleasures of being a woman took fruit in your mind. Imagine these losers not even wanting to fuck you in your true form,? They would never do better than you. You even doubted their Elixir would make them as fuckable as you, but it was a risk you weren't willing to accept. 

The nerds didn't even look up from their papers and test tubes, perhaps because now you looked as bland and pathetic as them. Part of you was still annoyed at these losers for not wanting to fuck you - it would have saved you the trouble of having to become one of them and maybe even been fun. 

There were four nerds all huddled together muttering something about stabilising the oestrogen markers. You may have had the body of a nerd but you didn't have their mind and you understood nothing of their research. It didn't matter - you weren't here to help, only hinder.

You decided to be subtle and indulge in a bit of small talk to help lower their guard. It was difficult trying to strike up a conversation and making you sound like one of them, but deviousness was second nature to you, even slumming it in this body.

If these losers had any idea of your true intentions they probably would have left, but they only looked at you and nodded a polite greeting before carrying on with what they were doing. This was going to be a piece of piss. 

You could see them rapidly scrawling notes in a large notepad - it must be the Elixir formula. Now all you needed to do was destroy that book and all the samples in the test tubes. It was time to act like a bit of a klutz.

"Excuse me can I just get one of those?" You pointed across the workbench to an empty test tube; your nerdy masculine voice sounded so weird and you instantly hated how servile you sounded. Thankfully it wouldn't be long before your work here was done you could open the locket and get your beloved body back.

"Sure" replied one of the nerds as he reached over the bench with a test tube in his hand.

"Thanks,” you replied, and as you reached out to take the tube from him you purposely jerked your elbow to knock and spill a flask of chemicals. It toppled and smashed and the nerds leapt back as chemicals poured over the notes on the table, hopefully dashing their hopes at womanhood.

"Oh I'm so sorry,” you gasped, intending it to sound patronising and full of venomous intent - but it came out as sincere and apologetic instead.  God this body was pathetic, you couldn't even sound triumphant in your actual moment of glory.

"Don't worry, we still have the samples,”  panted one of their number as he quickly grabbed the notepad to salvage what he could of the dripping mess.

Another nerd jumped up to help start cleaning the mess. As the other dropped the note book into a plastic bag, you coud see the spillage had  made the notes barely legible - perfect!

It was then you made your second move. You couldn't allow these ‘samples' to cause an issue. Pretending to help clean up the mess, you deliberately knocked over more cylinders and test tubes - the ones most likely containing the brewing Elixir. The other nerds watched in horror as glass smashed and chemicals splashed onto the floor. 

You wanted to laugh triumphantly, you had done it. Now all you needed to do was get the fuck yout of here and return to your true form.

"Oh i'm so sorry how clumsy of me," you whined as the nerds shouted in horror and panic set in as they tried to salvage what was left o fthe experiment. Turning you began to run away hoping to use the confusion as cover for your escape.

Unfortunately as you fled, your pathetic new clumsy body betrayed you and you slipped on a some of the chemicals on the floor. As you stumbled and crashed against another table, you failed to notice the precious locket fall from your pocket and clatter onto the floor.

Recovering your balance, you staggered out of the room - the gleaming locket now in the middle of the room where anyone could find it.

"Hey, where is that guy going?” one of the nerds shouted after you as he noted your exit. “That's the guy who trashed our experiment. Something isn't right here and he just dropped something.”

Spotting the locket, the nerd picked it up and examined the beautiful gold. Weird…. he thought holding the small gold locket in his hand.

"You guys try to fix this mess. I'm going to go after that new guy and find out what is going on. This locket loves valuable and he better tell us what he is up to or he isn't getting this back.”

Little did the nerd know JUST how valuable it was. He now held the greatest treasure of all, all of your very feminine essence. He was in possession of distilled pure, feminine, bitchiness.

Leaving the science room the nerd tried to follow you but there was no trace of where you went. He slowly walked the hall, his prize clutched in his hand, little knowing the power he now possessed or unsure of how important it would play in his future life and yours...

*****

It had been easy to slip into the girls restroom and luckily there was no one else inside. The ruck-sac containing your girl clothes was safely stored in a roof panel above a stall and now all you had to turn was turn back and put them on and no one would ever know what you had done.

You couldn't wait to wear expenaive silk panties again and feel powerful and sexy in your ‘fuck me’ heels. You couldn't wait to become Britney. You had already laid your slutty girls clothes, piercings and makeup kit on the bench ready to begin when you realised the problem.

The locket had gone.

"No this can't be happening! Where the fuck is it? I cant have lost it, I can't. Noooo Ii don't want to be a boy. I can't become a loser like this” you hyperventilated, the panic setting in.

Then remembering who you were, you slowed your breathing and forced yourself to calm down.

You had to find that locket but you had to be calm. You must have dropped it when you fell over. You just needed to go back to the lab and get it.

Everything was going to be okay. Leaving your clothes and makeup out, you turned and began walking back to the science lab.

Nothing was going to stop you becoming Britney again.

***

The nerd from the science lab didn't know what instinct had made him duck into a doorway when he heard the girls washroom open. Now he watched from the shadows as the strange boy from earlier marched back the way they had come.

What had he been doing in the girls washroom?

Deciding to investigate, he entered and frowned at the clothing and girls stuff he found inside.  Feeling slightly nervous about being in the girls washroom he stroked the metal casing of the locket he had found and shivered as a strange thrill ran through his entire body.

Then he seemed to hear a voice.

Open me you fool. Release me and receive my majesty. Become a bitch, become me, become Britney. I need a body, I need to dominate, fuck and control. Let me into you… let me BECOME you.

The nerd frowned, turning his attention to the locket in his hand. He saw there was a catch that would open it and a sudden desire to do so flowed into him.

Yes. That's it. I need to exist. Let me flow into you and make you better. Let me pump you full of my sluttiness.Open me you loser, release me at once! Let me inside you!

Weird! That sounded just like Britney's voice coming from the locket? 

Mmmmh big tits, tight pussy, firm ass. Cum, big cocks, fashion, makeup, bullying. You want me inside you. Let me make you into Britney. I must be free.

The nerds thumb found the catch and for some reason his dick got hard as he pushed the catch. The voice in his head was whispering such dirty things, it was so hot.

With a satisfying click the locket popped open in his hands and a brilliant light filled the room. 

Pink energy escaped the locket coiling round his body flowed up to his mouth and nostrils. Like a big thick  black cock in a snowbunnies mouth, it slid into his throat and pumped down… making him gulp and moan in pleasure as the evil pink power flowed eagerly into his weak body. 

*glug glug glug* mmmmmhhhhppphhhh.

The last of the energy flowed into the nerd and the locket fell to the floor as his body twitched and pink light blazed from his eyes.  All of Britney's bitchiness had now flowed into his body and now it was changing him.

"Oh fuck yesssss this feels amazing, I dont know what's happening but I fucking love it! Mmmmh oh God yess, I can feel it mmmmh changing me. Ahhhh fuck, what is this delicious power?”

The nerd moaned his voice rising several octaves and transforming into a bitchy slutty whine as his tore at his clothing and groaned as his bones popped and cracked.

His skin rippled and it became soft and smooth. Blonde streaks began to shine through his hair and his ass pushed out with a satisfying clap as he smacked it and moaned.

"Yess, my ass feels so fucking good. I mmmmh love my fucking bitchy ass. I want a big thick cock in my butt right NOW. Ohhh fuck what am I saying?” he moaned, ripping off his shirt in time to see his tiny chest begin swell as Britneys big perfect tits began to form.

Fondling a growing breast with one hand the nerd saw his nails lengthen into perfect manicured French tips, whilst the other hand was vigorously jerking his tiny nerd dicklet to the sensations of his growing bitchification. It felt so fucking good.

His once flat chest was now swollen with growing tit flesh. Bigger and bigger his boobs swelled up, the nipples hard as his massive white milkers got bigger and bigger on his slender chest. A-Cup expanded to C-Cup, then with a final push of his chest and a groan of pleasure Britney's Double-D's flopped out and he giggled madly in his new slutty voice.

“Ohhhh yes, hello girls. Mmmmh you feel so fucking good. Can't wait to get a thick cock between you… so fucking hawt!”

The nerd's short hair lengthened and his eyelashes thickened. Bitchy blonde hair now hung down his back down to his slutty ass and he swirled it away from his beautiful face with an easy feminine gesture.

He knew who he was becoming now and it felt sooooo good. As empty piercings appeared in his tongue, ears, navel and crotch - he knew exactly whose body this was.

"Mmmmhh fuck yes. I'm becoming her. I'm becoming that bitch Britney. Mmmmh ohhhhh yessss! That's it. Give me Britneys big tits and fuck yess her pussy too.”

With a grunt he jerked his waist and screamed in pleasure as his hips pushed out and his internal organs rearranged themselves nicely. His useless dick began to retract and a tight pink hairless slit started to open between his silky smooth thighs.

Britney's delicious pussy was going to  be all HIS. He squealed in Britneys hot voice as he felt his nerdy cock shrink between his masturbating manicured fingers and form  into her clit. Already dripping wet and permanently horny, Brtneys tight slutty pussy opened in its place his fingers sliding inside his newfound womanhood. 

“Mmmh take it all. Make me hot, blonde and bitchy. Make me into Britney. Hahah who needs the Elixir? Those other fools have no idea how good this feels. I’m a fucking bitch and  I LOVE it.”

Something was happening. Some of Britney's personality and a few of her memories were sinking into his head. They replaced the memories he already had and left a hunger for more. A hunger to absorb everything that was Britney.

The nerd knew he was no longer who he had been. His old identity no longer mattered. He WAS Britney now.

Scooping up the locket, vague memories about it's powers floating in HER mind, the new bitch ripped off her former clothing to stand naked in front of the mirror.

Flicking back long blonde hair, Britney licked her perfect lips and gazed into her own cold blue eyes 

"Oh fuck what a rush that was incredible. Mmmmh fuck me, I need a cock in me and quick. Transforming turned me on so fucking much.” 

Looking down at the clothes and makeup, Britney cursed that she didn't know how to wear them or do her makeup.

She wanted more. She wanted to be a true Alpha bitch, but the locket had only given her the bitchiness and urges of the real Britney.

Then she heard the door behind her open and she turned with a wicked smile on her beautiful face.

****

Finding the locket was gone and the nerds were missing one of their own made you shudder in fear. They were still trying to clean up and you eaves-dropped unnoticed in the corridor.

The little bastard must have found the locket and gone after you. Slinking away you realised he could be anywhere by now. You needed to get back to the girls washroom, recover your other stuff - then you'd have to search for him.

He might have the locket, but he didn't know what it was or what it could do. You were sure you could retrieve it before anything bad happened.

But when you re-entered the girls bathroom, it was to find the worst had already happened and you were already too late.

“Hello loser,” purred the naked Goddess by the mirror. She was evidently admiring her perfect body and was unashamedly naked - except for the locket around her neck. “Boys aren't allowed inside the girls washroom.”

“No! That body is mine. Put my essence back in the locket so I can return to normal,” you gasped. “I'm Britney and you better…

“Shut up loser. I'M Britney now and if you think I'm giving you back this power you must be insane. This is even better than what we had planned with the Elixir. There's only one more thing I need from you loser.”

Advancing towards you, Britney darted forward and you yelled in pain as she gripped your head in her hands. You felt manicured nails scratching your skin as she tightened her grip. The locket around her neck began to glow.

You felt yourself being drained again, but this time not of your bitchiness or your hot body. To your horror it was your memories.

“Ohhhh fuck yes, give me your memories loser. I am going to fucking replace you! Mmmmh soon I will know all about how to be you. Make me INTO you, give it all to me you fucking simp.”

You felt it all being sucked out of your head. The names of your bitchy friends, your skills at doing makeup, the secret blackmail material you had on nearly everyone at school.

Social media passwords and personal knowledge flowed out of your head into hers. Now she knew how to impersonate you perfectly. Every mannerism, every subtle intonation of how you talked and walked. She was taking it all.

Next came your extensive sexual memories. The memories of the boys and girls you'd fucked. Hot memories of big black cock, blowjobs, tit-wanks and anal fucking. Memories of bouncing on your best friends Dad's dick and screaming in pleasure later as he unloaded on your pretty face at her sleepover. You knew how to make them all yours. Men were your toys and girls your victims to bully.

But not anymore.

“Fuccccck yessss. Mmmh all these perverted dirty memories are mmmh changing me more. Fucking transform me baby!”

Britney moaned her eyes rolling back in her head. Her posture changed, she now stood exactly as you would have done. Her lips twisted into a familiar slutty pout and her voice became even more bratty and petulant.

“Like OMG - I have it all now bitch. All your like totally delicious memories are MINE.”

Pushing you back to the floor with a cruel giggle, every memory drained from your head, she swayed over to the counter. You were so sick and weak after the drain you could only lie there and watch as she began to get dressed.

“Mmmmh I love the feeling of these designer silk panties,” she giggled wiggling into them and snapping them tight. Pulling on her black top she pulled her denim shorts up and sighed happily at the tight fit.

Tying up her hair in a bitchy blonde ponytail she began to do her makeup. Soon she had glossy pink lips, contoured features and long black lashes. She looked so fucking hot.

Sliding her piercings back to where they belonged, she stuck her pierced tongue out at you. “I like can't wait to suck off a boy with this in my mouth.”

Spraying herself with perfume she picked up your handbag and phone and causally unlocked it. “Think I'll like update my status to ‘feeling like super bitchy today.’”

“Nooo please. Don't do this,” you groaned as she slid her perfect feet into the strappy white heels and with a clop turned to face you.

“Do what loser? I am Britney the Queen Bitch and I do whatever the fuck I like. Now I think I'll go pay one of my fuck-buddies a visit. I am SO horny for cock. I have all these delicious memories but it's time to experience it for myself.”

Laughing she strode past you and looked down with a remorseless smile.

“Thanks for the body loser. I feel so good now and this power is all mine. I'm gonna love being you.”

Opening the door she glanced back one final time.

“Bye bitch…”

She was Britney the spoiled slut now and you were nothing.

END OF PART 1

Thanks to my bestie Erica for writing this and letting me edit it. Hope you all enjoy.

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

finding home

pair: platonic!Sirius Black x reader

summery: y/n(she/her) finds out that Sirius Black is her father but he didn't know that, and her mom found out after he was inprisoned, but then she was killed by Voldemort when y/n was a baby and was placed in an orphanage for wizards and witches. and he found out after the battle of Hogwarts (in which he survived) and came to find you and tell you and take you in...

masterlist | navigation | p2

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The aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts was like a dream, the kind of blurry dream that clung to your consciousness long after waking. The castle was a mess of broken stones, scattered belongings, and ghosts of memories. As the survivors gathered in the Great Hall to mourn and heal, you felt out of place, a stranger to all these people and their long, shared history.

You sat quietly by yourself, legs tucked up to your chest, watching as friends embraced, families reunited, and bonds were mended. The truth was, you'd never had anyone to miss. No family to grieve or to return to. You'd been raised in an orphanage for witches and wizards, a safe but cold institution that never felt like home. Your mother had died when you were just a baby—Voldemort’s doing, they'd told you. And your father? You’d never known him. No one seemed to know. No one had ever wanted to talk about it.Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the figure standing nearby until he spoke.

"You must be Y/N."

His voice was deep, warm yet hesitant. You turned, and your breath hitched in your throat. Sirius Black, the man you’d heard whispers about—both terrible and heroic—stood before you. His long, dark hair was tangled, and he looked exhausted, like he'd been through a lifetime of battles, yet his eyes shone with something like hope.

"Yeah, that's me," you replied cautiously, wondering why he was speaking to you. You had no connection to any of the prominent families or Order members.

He swallowed hard, and for a moment, he looked almost fragile—something you hadn’t expected from someone with his reputation.

"I... I don’t know how to say this." He knelt down in front of you, his voice cracking ever so slightly. "I only just found out myself."

You frowned, confused. "Found out what?"

Sirius glanced around nervously, as if the weight of his words was too much to bear in front of so many witnesses. Slowly, he reached into the pocket of his battered coat and pulled out a small, folded letter. He held it out to you, his hands trembling.

You hesitated, but took the letter, unfolding it carefully. It was old, the parchment yellowed with age, but the handwriting was unmistakably elegant. As your eyes skimmed over the words, your heart pounded in your chest.

"Sirius, if you're reading this, it means I've gone, and our child is alone. Our daughter, Y/N... she's yours."

You couldn’t finish the rest. Your hands shook as the letter slipped from your grasp, falling to the floor. You stared at Sirius, wide-eyed, your heart racing.

"Daughter?" you whispered, almost too quietly for him to hear.

Sirius nodded, his eyes filled with emotion—regret, sorrow, and something like longing. "I didn’t know," he said softly, his voice thick. "Your mother... she never had the chance to tell me. I—by the time I escaped Azkaban, she was gone. If I had known, Y/N, I swear I would have—"

You couldn't breathe. The words felt heavy in the air between you. He was your father? Sirius Black? The man who had been imprisoned for years, who fought in the war, who was now kneeling in front of you, his hands reaching out like he was afraid you might vanish if he moved too quickly.

"I don't know what to say," you managed, your voice small.

"I’m sorry," Sirius whispered, his voice cracking. "I’m so sorry for not being there. For missing everything. You shouldn’t have had to grow up alone, and if I had known—" He stopped, his jaw clenching as he fought to keep control. "But I know now. And I want to make it right. I want you to have a home, Y/N. With me.

"The world felt like it had tilted on its axis. You'd grown up with nothing but your name, your mother’s memory a distant, faded thing, and now... now there was this man, this man who was supposed to be your father, standing here, offering you something you’d never dared to hope for.

Family.

You stared at him, your eyes searching his face for something—some sign that this was real, that you weren’t dreaming. And all you found was sincerity, raw and open in his eyes.

"I..." You felt tears welling up in your eyes, and you quickly wiped them away. "I don’t know how to do this," you admitted, your voice trembling.

Sirius smiled softly, his expression understanding. "We’ll figure it out together," he promised, his hand finally resting gently on your arm. "You don’t have to do it alone anymore."

That was all it took. The dam you’d built around your heart broke, and before you knew it, you were sobbing. It was as if all the loneliness, all the fear and confusion, was finally escaping after years of being bottled up.

And Sirius—your father—didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as you cried into his shoulder. His hand gently stroked your hair, his voice low and soothing as he murmured, "It’s okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere."

For the first time in your life, you believed it. This was real. He was real.

When you finally pulled back, sniffling and wiping at your eyes, Sirius was smiling at you through his own unshed tears.

"So," he said softly, his voice full of warmth. "What do you say? Would you let an old dog like me try to be a father?"

A soft laugh bubbled up through your tears, and you nodded. "Yeah," you whispered, your heart swelling with something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

"I’d like that."

Sirius grinned, his eyes lighting up with joy. He stood, offering you his hand.

"Come on, Y/N," he said with a soft chuckle. "Let’s go home."

[willowser]

hi hi willow!!!!!!!!!!! (<- absolutely not in pain whatsoever)....... i am just wondering if..... uh.... u have imagined a reason for the breakup yet? i'd love to know why you think bakugo would ever break up with you. heh heh. hah. :D (i am crying)

here are the things you don't know—yet, at this point in time after the breakup.

two weeks before, dynamight gets into an ugly argument with a civilian. over something stupid, probably; she's drunk and not listening to a word the hero is telling her, stumbling around in public and taking her shoes off and shoving at him when he tries to corral her from getting into another fistfight in the street.

it's just—bad. looks bad. before anything productive can happen, a few of her friends are stumbling out and screaming at him, too, for being a cocky asshole and putting their phones in his face and recording him and maybe he says something he shouldn't—not something terrible, just something that sounds extra bad when a group of young women are screaming and angry at you—and it gets blasted all over the internet.

two weeks before, dynamight gets dragged in the paper. for being a jerk. for being such an asshole. remember when he nearly collapsed that building last month, during that fight? so careless. and he's never friendly when anyone comes up to him on the street, either in uniform or not. is more likely to brush someone away than stop and take a picture. in high school he was a little brat, too, with the way he spoke to his peers and didn't know respect if it slapped him in the face.

his poor partner. must be miserable to be with him all the time. they deserve better.

and if they know how he is? and how he acts to the people he's supposed to take care of? well, they must condone that kind of behavior, no? they're okay with him acting like that in public? what kind of morals do they have, anyway?

the other thing you don't know yet is that katsuki has been working every day. two shifts, sometimes, to the point that there's little more he does than eat and sleep and be dynamight. there's no free time. if any tries to make an appearance in his schedule—he's filling it with something, anything; going hiking, working out, cooking dinner for his shithead friends, not being at home.

whatever he's doing, he's not being at home.

yes, he got rid of everything he could that belonged to you. because he couldn't stand to look at it and know you weren't going to use it in his house again. can't stand it. refuses to, actually. is only putting one foot in front of the other, every day, and not really thinking about that weird, awful weight sitting in his gut, that feels dark and terrifying. he can't think about it. he's not bad at avoiding those kind of thoughts—he's done it before and he'll do it again.

and lastly—he's a fucking idiot.

[nubisaureus]

when they get jealous and needy

how the genshin men show their jealousy over you

character(s): Cyno, Xiao, Kaeya

pairings(s): fem!reader x Cyno, Xiao, Kaeya (separately)

contents: uncertainty of feelings, smut, found family, angst, comfort

not proofread! im swamped with uni work so i might post less till next week, sorry <3

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────────

Cyno

he's absolutely chill most of the time, but there are some times he just gets jealous and insecure

you bet he's going to mark his territory: whether it is by putting his hand around your waist, pulling you close, whispering something in your ear while looking the other person dead in the eyes, his golden irises sending a silent warning

«And who's this, angel?» he asks, as he gets to your side

you better believe he's gonna get extra needy/rough when you two get in bed later

as he's balls deep in your pussy, he groans «you're mine, aren't you, angel?»

you struggle to answer. not because you don't know what to answer, but because you can't think properly, as he's relentlessly pounding into you, making you lose any semblance of rational thought

he stops, still inside of you.

«answer.» he commands now, making you squirm and whine for more.

«C-cyno..» you plead, incapable of uttering any other word than his name.

«yes?» his pupils dark and wide, much like the ones of a predator

«i am Cyno. that guy was just flirting with me because he can't stand you. he wants to make you angry because the matra once apprehended him due to his illegal schemes, and so he wants to take it out on you..» you utter those words, remembering the case that had shaken your Darshan from the inside out, before Cyno was even the general Mahamatra

as you finish speaking, he starts to pound into you again, making you scream his name, finally getting the release you were aching for

──────────────────────────────

Xiao

poor thing is still new to this having feelings for someone, so when he gets angry when another guy talks with you in a more friendly way, he doesn't know what to do with his feelings

so he goes to Zhongli, asking for advice (a/n yes, i believe in Zhongli as Xiao's found family, idc)

«Rex L-» «Just Zhongli.»

he looks down, biting his lip at the correction. it doesn't feel fair to him to call Rex Lapis as simply Zhongli, but he carries on, explaining his problem

«What you are experiencing is what mortals call "jealousy". While it is normal to have such a feeling when someone you don't like might be talking to her in a little too friendly manner, you must learn not to get overwhelmed by this feeling, as it only brings people apart and destroys relationships.»

he thinks long and hard about what Zhongli told him, and as you return to Wangshu Inn, you find him on the rooftop, deep in thought.

«I'm back, Xiao.» you say, catching his attention.

you are met by a dry reply, that makes you wonder what might be up with him

after a bit, he decides to confess, and you look at him, endearment in your eyes

«aw, love. you have no need to be jealous. i'm sorry you felt this way. whether adeptus or human, jealousy is a terrible feeling that no one wants to experience. but i can assure you that the only one i love is you, and no one else.»

he's got tears in his eyes

«are you sure?» you nod. «but..my karmic debt..» he averts his eyes, turning his back to you

you hug him from behind, resting your head on his shoulder

«my Vision protects me.»

he makes you promise to run away if he ever loses control over himself, and you reluctantly agree, even though you know that if that ever happened, you would fight for him until the bitter end.

──────────────────────────────

Kaeya

oh boi, you're in for a ride

he's literally the smoothest talker ever, he doesn't even need to get jealous

he's more of a showoff really, basically showing off his wonderful girlfriend

so it's more him making other people jealous, whether men or women, because, let's be honest, it's not like women are not jealous of you

«all alone here, kitten?» he comes up at you at Angel's Share, while Diluc rolls his eyes at his cheesiness

you flirt right back, twirling a strand of loose hair in your fingers, catching his attention

your hair and neck are his weak points, so you know exactly what you're doing

his eyes are fixated on you, as you let go of your hair, and go back to your drink, ignoring him

he comes up to you, whispering something in your ear

«let's put on a show» are the words that come to your ears, and you smile wickedly

you turn your head towards him, staring at his lips intensively

he's too close for comfort, and you can feel his cold breath on your skin, shivers appearing in response

as you're about to kiss, your lips inches from each other, a suave melody starts playing

you see one of the most renowned bard of Mondstadt, Venti, playing his lyre for the tavern

you get all excited, and stand up, your dress flitting around your figure

Kaeya gives you a puzzled look, but it soon transforms into an amused smile, as he joins you in dancing

you two dance together, the entire tavern mesmerized at the sight of you two

might also be because Kaeya was using his vision to create small snowflakes around both of you, those same snowflakes catching the light of the tavern, creating a reflective spectacle

you decide to tease him, grabbing him by the ring that holds his collar in place

he smiles smugly, as if to ask "what now?"

your faces get too close for comfort, both of you lost in the each other's eyes

suddenly a whiff of wind swirls around you, diffusing an irresistible aroma around you

who's gonna give in first? it's a battle of wits at this point

Kaeya does.

you don't even have the time to process it, that his lips are on yours, and his hands are on your waist, pulling you closer

that was one memorable night

what you didn't know is that your ex was standing in a corner of the tavern, a bewildered look in his eyes as he witnessed the whole scene

Kaeya is a fucking menace

[ladybirdswritings]

Silken Webs & Pirouettes - Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary: (transitional chapter) you are far too drunk to understand what just happened on the dance floor. Ballerina!Reader & CEO!Miguel. Alternate Universe with most of the characters included as seen in "Across the Spiderverse." Many cameos ahead. Miguel is a successful business owner but personality is canon. This is a steamy reader insert, Miguel x You! Enjoy and pls leave me lots of love and comments as it keeps me motivated <333

TW: indications of sexual ab*se, coercion.

chap nine 1/2

You’ve made many interesting decisions in your life. Some of them causing you to lose the only all you’ve ever had. This, however. This is new. This is different for you. Dancing with a man who made you hyperventilate only a week prior. A man who you can’t be in a room with for more than five seconds before becoming infuriated.

God, your head is spinning.

Your heels feel too tight now, your dress too stuffy and scratchy. You need to change everything, including your rose print panties. You’re not thinking of anything else other than the doors as you push through the crowd.

Only this time? You actually make it out, away from him.

The December chill greets you viciously, like an old friend scorned. Oh, you forgot your sweater inside. It wasn’t on your mind. Your dress is not enough to keep you warm, so you create one with the hug of your arms against your ice bathed body.

The chill turns your nose pink, alongside the apples of your cheeks. Gusts of December’s breath are like harsh slashes against your supple skin.

It’s so terribly cold that you can see each and every exhale that leaves you, your breaths tangling in the air for your gaze to follow. The cold hurts your eyes, as do the faint streetlights that look like blurred watercolor from where you stand. You hide them.

It’s only until your eyes shift from being squeezed tightly shut to opening that you realize how truly drunk you are right now.

Oh…

You need to get home, the stars in the sky are spinning and your head is pounding. You’re so nauseous, so tired. Jagged rocks meet your palm as you steady yourself upon the wall. You can’t decipher where you are. The street signs seem so far away, but the stop sign is close and it’s doing pirouettes before your very eyes.

Did you take the wrong exit?

Oh you must have, no wonder there’s no crowd. Regardless, it doesn’t matter right now. A taxi will have to stop by eventually.

The chill makes you shiver, nails digging into your arms as your teeth chatter. You don’t think you can stay upright for much longer without emptying dry cereal and free alcohol onto the concrete. Your back falls against the jagged rocks.

You’re bound to be beyond hungover when sunrise greets you, you’ll dwell over what you ran from no doubt. The thought is already plaguing you. You tilt your head back, watching your breaths float all the way up to the sky.

You feel it far too much now. What you were chasing away with the dancing. God, why did you drink this much?

You attempt a weak whistle, hoping a taxi man will take the wrong exit too. None do. Cars pass you by, probably amused by how pathetic you must look trying to keep yourself upright against the rocky wall.

You need to sit down, you’re about to faint.

“Hey hey, you alright?”

Your eyes snap open, body doing its best to straighten up as a stranger with two heads and bodies comes to your sights. Sight.

You don’t know.

“Oh yeah yeah, m’ fine.. just waiting for a cab.”

The man smells of boxed beer, and he looks scruffy even in double vision. Both pairs of his eyes are glistening for a reason you’re unaware of, and his voice seems so far away. Even so, your body knows he’s close. His hands— donned in itchy gloves, they fall upon your elbows.

“Come on sweetie, I’ll take you back home.

Before you get the chance to inhale a breath so you may protest, the man slides an arm round your lower back, pulling you off the rocks. Oh, he really does smell like beer. Your eyes are glazed over with tequila’s hold on your stability, but they still wander upon his features to find that he’s missing a tooth.

The handsy one, from earlier. The one Cindy scared away.

“Wait I know— know you.” You attempt, a hiccup breaking apart your sentence into two. You find yourself stumbling as he tugs you a bit further now and with a bit more force. He’s quiet, focused. Rushing.

You don’t like this.

He’s so sweaty, so close. His skin upon your own, it’s nauseating. Perhaps he’s getting the wrong message. You’ll just be kind.

“Oh no no it’s okay mister— I have a cab it’s coming.”

He’s not listening.

Your breaths get a bit quicker now, more panicked as realization begins to settle in. He’s taking you. Even though you know this, you can’t find the energy to form more words. To tell him to stop— to do anything.

Your body stumbles alongside his and you try to plant your heels into the concrete divots but he’s far too quick and far too big.

He’s stronger than you.

His car is worn and adorned with tinted windows.

“What are you doi-” Your speech is slurred, he interrupts you.

“Shut up.” It’s all he says as he opens the paint-chipped door. Your heart is pounding fast, banging against its bone cages. If it could, it would leap right from your throat.

And god— you are so sleepy, but fear won’t let your eyes rest. It’s all so quick and sudden. You hear the same metal doors you escaped from close, you jump. He doesn’t spare them a glance; he’s trying to push you into the back seat with even more urgency now.

“Wait— n-no.” You whisper as your trembling, numb fingertips which must be frost bitten by now, shoot up to grasp the snow fallen metal; attempting to keep your body out from the car. Though he is relentless. He pushes harder, you fall in.

Your head presses against the cool leather, body laid out long ways in the back seat of his dirty vehicle. It smells even worse than him. There are cigarette buds on the carpet, and empty beer cans in the seat pockets. You’re so drained, you could just close your eyes right now. But you feel his own gaze, looking over you.

You can’t give into it, not right now. You won’t.

Your mind is on autopilot, dazed by the shots you downed. Your body? It’s trained. You try to sit up but he immediately pushes you back down with a calloused and rough palm. His gloves are off now.

“But my cab mister… I gotta leave n’ I gotta-”

You hear a grunt, and in one swift motion— toothless is snatched back from where he once stood over you. The car creaks and shifts with force as he’s slammed up against it and in a spout of adrenaline, you shoot up— body steadying itself by leaning against the door.

Oh, woah… what a nightmare. Two Miguel O’Haras— and both of them have picked this overweight man up off of his feet.

Wait—

You blink lazily, watching as Mr. O’Hara— er a guy who really looks like him, drags the one-gloved man to the same jagged wall you once leaned up against. Your eyes watch through the tinted window as he slams him against it, sharp teeth bared like an animal while his veins protrude.

Must suck to be that guy.

You know what it’s like to be cased up against a wall while he’s angry with you. While his jaw is tense and his eyes are wild and overflowing the brim with fury.

Why is he so angry?

You hear his voice, far far away.

“Te gusta aprovecharte de las chicas? Eh, cabrón? Tienes suerta de que no te arranque el resto de los dientes de la boca…”

Something about his mouth. Something about his nauseating ways. If it were any other girl, this would be chivalrous. Maybe he just feels pity for you. The thought makes you wince.

The toothless man, his eyes are wide as he shakes his head back and forth. Panicked, frightened and desperate.

“Come on man, I don’t know what you’re saying! I don’t understand!” He’s pleading with a madman.

You don’t know how it’s possible, but Miguel drags him even further up the wall with just the strength of his arms alone. He does have big arms…

The jagged rocks slide into his tan skin, slicing it open until crimson pours from the fresh wounds— making him cry out.

Mr. O’Hara’s voice is low now, scarier. He speaks through clenched teeth.

“Understand this. If I see your face here again, I’m gonna bludgeon it. Get out of my club.”

His club?

You can’t unpack the idea of it, the door suddenly isn’t enough to keep you upright. You huff as you fall back against the cold leather. It smells of cigarettes and sex in here. It’s nauseating.

You can’t feel your feet, the chill has eaten away at them too. Faint footsteps kiss the worn pavement— closer and closer but you’re too unavoidably tired now to move from them. You can hear your own heart pound, hear each breath muffled in your pink-kissed ears.

You hope the toothless man doesn’t come back. Maybe he already has… maybe you’ve already fallen asleep, maybe you’re just dreaming.

No. The scent of firewood and bourbon is an entirely new and undiscovered sensation to the rest of the world— singular to you, it has recently become. Far too vivid and warm to simply exist in a state of your slumber.

“Dios mío…” he whispers for only the night to hear, for the wind to take with it.

Warmth, familiar and baffling wraps around your ankle. He tugs your body to him with ease, but your dress lifts. You’re not wearing anything but your soft, rosy panties beneath it.

Your eyes fall shut, lashes fanning upon your skin— hearing an echoed noise from the back of his throat. He smells more of bourbon than firewood today. He’s been drinking too.

He doesn’t tug again.

“Vente, cariño.” His voice, it sends a shiver up the base of your spine. So filled with heat, honey and silk even in this horrid weather.

Maybe your mind wants to stay right where it is, not by choice but rather impairment. Yet one command from him and your body complies, unsteadily forcing you to sit upright. You practically slump right over when you do.

He robs his shoulders of his navy coat— but it’s not like he will suffer much without it. He must have an internal heater built within his chest. He wraps the soft material around you tight. It’s far too big, it engulfs you.

When you’re close enough to him, he reaches his arms around you. God— so warm. Mm, and he smells intoxicating. Intoxicating enough to forget the events of the week prior, and even the events of tonight. Yes, he’s a stranger. Kind and chivalrous. Sweeping you away to keep you warm.

Beyond the firewood and bourbon, he smells of spices. Strong and sultry in his hair. You’re up in his arms in a swift movement, so high up from the ground where he always towers over the rest of the world. You understand now why he feels so powerful all the time.

He holds you in a fireman’s cradle, your face buried in his neck. It’s heated there too, and you don’t have the strength or energy to part from it.

His leather shoe kicks the car door shut with force— annoyance. No— anger.

“Man I’m sorry again I-”

“Cállate.” He practically hisses. The stranger complies, quick footsteps hurrying off.

You’re so exhausted, and he’s so cozy. Just a quick nap, maybe. You’ll have plenty of time to feel embarrassment tomorrow. Not now. No— you’re just so drained right now. Not just from the shots, but the feelings. The dance, the gaze, the intensity. You’ve had enough for one night.

Your soft breaths kiss the place where his pulse rises and falls, body moving in a soft sway with each commanding step he takes. A singular metal door creaks open.

“Thank you, Cindy.”

“Yes sir, of course. Everything is in there— her keys, wallet, phone. She left her sweater too, but we can’t seem to find that…”

“She doesn’t need it, I’ll get her home.”

“Sir…”

The door slams shut— and no other words are spoken, you only feel movement. You only hear breaths. His… and maybe your own. Though they are softer now, your heart doesn’t pound as loudly. Your breathing is drastically different. His is laced with the remnants of his fury, and yours is only laced with your peace.

He must feel on top of the world, so high up like this. His feet pound against the pavement, it echoes in your ears. The soft hiss of tires rolling against pebble halts at the curb. Another different set of footsteps open the car door and scurry to open another. Mr. O’Hara approaches and you’re immediately placed inside. The seats are warm, heated you think— and the car smells of him. Far different from the one you were once inside of.

Your seatbelt is fastened, hair brushed away from where it tickles your face. The warmth, it’s as if you’re a child again— aching from the harshness of the icy world until steamed milk is offered to you. The feeling lulls you— and it isn’t long before your eyes fall shut.

Just for a little while, that’s all…

Then? You’re fast asleep…

🏷️’s @reirain @needybitez @migueloharastruelove @laysmt @maomaimao @daisy-artfield @poutysprouty @chorizobeets @tabalittlelong @iitangerine @dprmoon @neptunieesworld @cyd2301 @amelialysm @justanothers-things

[luci-is-a-bitch-x3x]

Obey Me! Diavolo & Barbatos with a Goth MC! : basically my thoughts on what their reactions would be, how they would handle having a goth partner, ext.

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

Welcome! to another part of this adventure! The characters may not be how you imagine! I apologize for any poor jokes, bad spelling, and terrible grammar. Without further ado, please enjoy the content. ♡

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Goth MC! who does the make up, the white foundation the "crazy" eyeliner, the black/grey or dark color eyeshadow and blush. Classic black or red lipstick with matching nail polish on the Mc's fingers. The saggy looking hair that matches the make up, oh so well. Goth MC! Who has the unkept look, but at second glance you can tell their well kept. At least to some extent. The Mc has raggy, ripped looking outfit but upon closer inspection its clear the outfit is perfectly kept up with. Goth MC! Who has an over extent looking outfit, looking like rags on rags, and the Mc has a dead looking apperance appearing to have risen from the grave. Almost the perfect example of a goth baddie. How will they react?

Diavolo

When Goth Mc crashlands in the Devildom, Diavolo is Fascinated! He may not understand why their dressed Goth but he still thinks Goth Mc looks adorable! Diavolo would ask all kinds of questions. "Why do you choose to dress like that? Is it a human custom? Goth?? Whats that? Tell me everything!!" This is all assuming he doesn't already know what goth is lol. Diavolo is just an excited puppy eager to learn anything about humans. So please entertain him with Goth culture or just tell him dark stories. Maybe even talk about music and how complicated that can be. He'll be amazed! "There's a whole sub-culture for Goth? Thats wonderful! You must tell me all about it!!" With those puppy dog eyes and that grin of his, Goth Mc would have no choice but to talk nonestop about goth things until Diavolo's curiousity subsides. If it ever does.

Diavolo can listen to Goth Mc for hours. Even when Mc leave Diavolo will be thinking about what Mc had been telling him. Instead of doing his paperwork he would daydream or think of more questions related to Goth culture just so he could ask Goth Mc. Barbs and Luci are banging their heads against the wall, so much unfinished paperwork. Poor bbys.

Dating Diavolo is super supportive. Diavolo loves Goth Mc's look! Humans somewhat looked down on the Goth apperance? Diavolo will make a Devildom where its the complete opposite! He wants Mc to be happy and safe in Devildom. I mean honestly, whos going to say anything to Goth Mc when the Demon Prince is standing next to them anyways? A psychopath? "No harm or hate shall come to you when hes besides you, Mc!" Diavolo will happily parade Goth Mc around formal events, arms linked proudly showing the Devildom that he's with them.

Speaking of formal events, Diavolo expects Goth Mc to dress gothic when attending an event. "You should feel comfortable being you, Mc. The Devildom is a Safespace for you." Or he'll make it one. Diavolo will gladly provide Mc with formal gothic attire if Mc doesn't have/can't afford any. He just wants to see his cute little human all dolled up! It fills Mc's gothic desires so win, win situation.

Diavolo is the Demon Prince so he is going to give Mc amazing gifts, and he'll do it all the time. No occasion needed! Diavolo may give Mc some extravagant goth item. Or maybe he'll bring Mc along to the grand opening of something spooky like. Diavolo doesn't care what it is if Goth Mc wants it he'll give it to them. As long as its reasonable. Diavolo may one day be becoming king, but Goth Mc is his ruler.

Barbatos

Barbatos can see the future so like he probably saw Goth Mc coming before they actually arrived in the Devildom. But even if he didnt,the most of a reaction Mc would see is an intrigued eyebrow raise. Barbatos is very good at keeping his composure. Nobody can know his thoughts or see how hes feeling hy his reaction.

I feel like Barbatos would enjoy the goth aesthetic. Similar to what i said with Satan's reaction, Barbs enjoys that the goth look appears to be an artistic outlit. Barbs also makes clothes so i feel like he would appreciate the Goth attire in general. Taking inspiration from it at some points.

Dating with Barbatos is pleasant. Barbs isn't always free. Hes a busy man babysitting taking care of the Demon Prince. However Barbs always makes it up to Mc. It can be small acts or even small presents just subtle ways of trying to apologize for not always being free. Barbs knows Goth Mc's favorite everything, as a butler its his job to be observant and know everything about those he looks after. So Goth Mc can expect their favorites with him.

Barbs will gladly sit and have tea with Goth MC as they teach him of Goth culture or talk about something dark. Mc's telling him about this gruesome horror movie they watched recently? He's nodding along and sipping his tea with a fond smile. He'll occasionally ask a question or add something into the conversation. "The suspense is killing me, do tell me what happens next my dear." Said straight faced, but he really is intrested!

Barbs doesnt find Goth Mc's appearance or interests offputting. Everyones fond of their own things, and he finds Mc to be very unique. Barbs is a high respected demon with a lot of power. I doubt anyone would say anything bad to Mc with him around, but if they did he would handle it very professionally. He would give them a snarky passive aggressive remark. He cant do anything crazy without "shaming" Lord Diavolo so he just handles it calmly and professionally. The poor sap that said whatever to Mc was never seen again tho. Mystery what happened lol.

Barbatos defiently gives Goth MC amazing gifts. He has connections everywhere, if he sees something goth or something that makes him think of Mc, he'll get it for them. Mc will also recieve outfits he made for them, obviously it matches their goth aesthetic. Barbs maybe a busy man but he's always thinking of Mc. He gives them gifts all the time, small or large with no reason other than- "I saw it and I immediately thought of you, my dear. I may not be allowed to be with you always, but you're forever on my mind." Barbs is unbashful and will gladly spoil Goth Mc, with compliments or presents and any other ways he can. He just wants his little human to understand he cares.

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Thats all for now babes! Hope you enjoyed!! ♡ This is not proofread. Feel free to comment or reblog any thoughts or any add ons you have! Next up will be: Solomon, Simeon, & Luke(platonic) Stay tuned! Stay safe! & EAT YOU'RE VEGGIES! ‹𝟹

━☆*:･ﾟ✧✧ ♡ ❀ ♡ ✧━

⟡˙⋆Masterlist⋆˙⟡

[zevred]

I've Got You Under My Skin

john brady x gn!reader

john brady the man that you are... also this turned out a little more angsty than i thought it would be

wc: 1.5k

John Brady’s already annoyed before the band goes on for their set. He snapped a reed during practice, cut his chin while shaving, and now you’ve shown up for drinks with an irksome smile on your face. Dougie’s chatting you up and Hambone’s already bought your drink, and you’re laughing at something Blakely’s just said.

It’s always like this when you come to the bar and Brady can’t help but roll his eyes. When you come for drinks, you take the time to press your hair into curls and scrub the grime out from under your nails. You look sort of pretty, but Brady knows it’s a guise to cover up how venomous you really are.

The guys usually see you on the hardstand working on the forts with Kenny in your coveralls with grease smudged across your face. Sometimes you wear a white ribbon in your hair and it’s the most ridiculous thing John Brady’s ever seen. Even as his plane is in taxi, he sees that stupid silk tied into your hair. You’re the first and last thing he sees before and after each mission. When he lands and is forced to give his fort into your care, you always have some snide comment waiting and a forced smile on your face.

He gives you a sarcastic smile, and when his crew isn’t looking and Kenny’s inspecting the plane both of you drop the façade and glare openly at each other. You looked exhausted this morning, dark shadows stamped under your eyes, and you didn’t give him nearly as much energy as he’d expected.

“I hope your face gets stuck like that, Brady.”

That’s all you have to say and he’s still frowning at you, dark brows pinched close together. “You think about my face often?”

“I try not to think of you at all.” You look more deflated than usual, and Brady’s throat closes up. He’s still standing there like an idiot when you sigh. “Go away, Captain. There’s a lot of work to be done.”  

He thinks about it all day. The tiredness in your eyes. The way your shoulders slumped as you walked away. Usually, you’re annoyingly springy. He hates the way your hips move as you walk away from him, the way his eyes can’t look away, but this—your sullen retreat—it makes him sick to his stomach. You don’t call him Captain and you’ve never told him to go away. You’re on his mind during rehearsal when his jaw clenches, cracking the reed between his teeth. He’s remembering the purple of your eyebags when his razor slips. And now Brady’s watching you laugh with his friends like nothing’s wrong.

So, he’s already pissed when the band starts up and you peel away to dance with Hambone. He knows you’re just friends. Hambone laughed in his face when Brady tried to lecture him about the irresponsibility of relationships on base. Still, the way he’s swinging you around makes something nasty coil in the pit of his stomach. He hears your laugh over his sax and struggles to keep playing.

You dance like that for the first several songs of the set, twisting between Blakely and Hambone. Brady can see the flush on your skin and, just for a moment, he wonders what the feel of you would be like under his hands. He’s dreamt about it—and they’re terrible dreams—but they leave him with a nervous twitch in his hands and a bounce in his leg. He’s taping his foot now, to keep in time with the beat of the song, and he tells himself the tremor in his arms is from holding his instrument.

As the song reaches its crescendo, the music loud and consuming and overpowering, your eyes flick to his and they don’t move. Your eyes, big and searching, bore into him and Brady thinks you must be crazy to be looking at him like that while dancing with another man.

Maybe you’ve learned to read his signs of irritation—the tops of his ears have turned a fiery red, his nostrils flaring of their own accord—because you certainly know how to push him over the edge. Hambone spins you, and from your place tangled in his arms, you grin at Brady.

That does it for him.

Your smile is a taunt, a trap, and he knows it. But when the band finishes their last song and the vinyl takes over, he’s rushing for you, searching for you in the crowd. Brady finds you, crowded against the wall as Colonel Harding laughs at some terrible joke you must have made. It makes his eye twitch, seeing his CO lean close to whisper in your ear.

Brady reaches you as you give the Colonel an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Sir. I promised Captain Brady that I’d save him a dance.”

And then you’re looping your arm through his, smiling up at Brady’s flushed face, tugging him onto the dancefloor.

Brady nearly stumbles, his mind going blank at the feeling of your skin on his. He has no idea where your jacket has gone, and your sleeves are rolled up. Your bare forearm brushes against his wrist as you guide him through the crowd. His senses have narrowed to that point of contact and Brady wonders if you have freckles or birthmarks under the rest of your clothes. For just a moment, he imagines mapping all the lines and marks of your body—imagines knowing you beyond a brush of skin.

You stop, twisting to stand in front of him with that petulant, expecting look on your pretty face. “Are we going to dance, or are you going to keep staring at me?”

“I’m not staring,” he says, and his traitorous body clenches up as you inch closer to him.

You hum under your breath. “Could feel you watching me all night, Brady.”

His body feels like it’s on fire as you wrap his arm around your waist, clasping his other hand in yours. He shudders under your hands and says, “It’s cause you’re a horrible dancer.”

“Look who’s talking,” you scoff. “You’re stiff as a board. If you weren’t in the band, I’d think you didn’t know a thing about music.”

He pulls you closer by the waist, your chest brushing against his. Your cheeks are turning a lovely shade of pink and when he hears your breathing hitch, Brady knows—with no small amount of quilt—that little noise will linger with him far longer than it should.

He’s looking at you through that heavy-lidded gaze you detest so dearly and it’s not enough to be swaying in his arms “I’m sorry for being sore with you this morning.”

Your whisper hits the shell of his ear, your nose dragging up the line of his neck. It’s instinct, the way his hand flexes on your hip and Brady prays to God for patience, because he’s not sure how much longer he can dance with you like this.

“Cold is what you were this morning. Worried all day about you, and then you show up— flouncing around—,”

“I don’t flounce.”

He pulls back to glare at you. “I saw no shortage of flouncing between Blakely and Hambone.”

“You jealous, Brady?” Your hand slides up his shoulder to the back of his neck, dragging your nails over his nape.

It’s too easy to fall back into your arms, to curl his body against yours. His heart is pounding in his chest and he’s certain you can feel it where he’s pressed against you. He wants to scoff, to make fun of you for insinuating something so ridiculous, but the words catch in his throat.

You don’t give him the mercy of silence. “Can’t dance with you while the band’s playing, can I? Would if I could, Captain.”

You look up at him with a nervous smile—small and timid—so at odds with your usual daring grin, Brady’s desperate to reassure you. “I know,” he says, pulling you impossibly closer. “I know.”

With your face pressed into his chest, it’s hard to hear your next words. Brady strains to hear you over the slow music, the way his body muffles your voice. He catches the sentence, and it breaks his heart.

“I’m tired of cleaning blood out of B-17s.”

The music is quiet and the vinyl creaks as the needle skips.

“I’m worried one day it’ll be yours.”

Brady doesn’t know what to say. He’s a pragmatist and a Catholic; there’s no comfort he can offer you, no promise he can make. For now, the only thing he can do is hold you close and let the music wash over your bodies as the dancefloor empties. At the end of the night, when the record has stopped spinning and the stars have climbed into the sky, the only audible sound is the disquiet of your shared breath and the rhythmic pounding of your hearts.

[sweetracha]

Choose a Flavor

There are two versions of this story based on the experience you want to have. Will you be a good girl or a brat?

Flavor Selected: Good Girl

Sugar Content: Spicy Sweet (SMUT!)

Allergy Warning: Hard Dom Chan, Titles (Master and Daddy), Pet Names (Bunny, Baby, Good Girl, Princess, etc.), Praise, Overstim, Sweet Mean Dom, Dumb is used, Illusions to aftercare.

The room you stood in was silent. Not a single sound rang out. So quiet in fact, you could hear the thoughts blaring through your head. Your heart was drumming an unsteady beat in your ears and your breath danced along. Was this nervous or excited? Both you decided, it was both.

After a few failed relations and some more than disappointing hookups, you decided maybe love and lust wasn’t for you. Having to share your kinks and fantasies over and over again was tiring. No one seemed to understand what you wanted, no what you NEEDED out of a relationship. Giving up was the best option. That was until a friend ranted about her failure of a date.

“He was sweet when I met him! And super attractive don’t get me wrong! But something seemed off. We went back to his place and we were hanging out in his bed watching a movie. I thought maybe something would happen so I wanted to freshen up. I left for the restroom and when I came back I must have picked the wrong door because when I opened it…” Your friend trailed off. 

“What did you see?” You asked both out of curiosity and protectiveness. If this man did anything to hurt her you would make sure he would pay.

“Um well” her cheeks went bright red. “Remember that movie we jokingly watched back in college? The one about…you know…sex?”

“Yeah…50 shades of gray? It was a terrible representation of that lifestyle, but go on”

“Well… it was like that”

That's when it hit you. This man had a playroom. A full-on playroom dedicated to BDSM. you could finally have someone in your life to share details with. A friend that would actually understand you. You consoled your friend however, she needed you more right now. She admitted that she didn’t want to break his heart so you told her you'd do it on her behalf, all you needed was his number.

You set up a public meeting with the guy you now knew as Christopher. The two of you were to meet at a little cafe in the middle of town. While your friend described him to you, you weren’t exactly sure what he looked like. So when an incredibly handsome man walked up to your table, you were startled.

“y/n?” he asked and god was his voice intoxicating.

“Yeah–that's me! You must be Christopher” you replied with a much shakier voice than you would have liked. Chris took a seat across from you.

He was fidgeting the whole conversation, worried he actually hurt your friend. You explained to him since you were little girls she had always been scared of the taboo. This eased his tight expressions. However, the more you talked the more he picked up on. Your friend was not into the scene…but you never said anything about yourself.

“Sorry if this is out of the blue Y/N, but how do you know so much about this lifestyle? I mean you know much more than any book or movie would teach you” He said with a soft and caring tone but a cocky smirk on his lips. I

“I um- well I have looked into it” was a terrible lie, and he could tell.

“Honey, it's okay if you are an adorable little sub” He tested the waters, hoping to not scare you off. To be honest the thought of having a sub as gorgeous as you scared him a bit. When he saw the blush crawl up your skin and paint your face, he knew you had to be his. 

Here you are now standing in his playroom. It was perfect, everything you could have dreamed of and more. You had seen it once before when you were going over consent contracts. Chris wanted to make sure you felt comfortable in this space. He made love to you in the black silk bed that sat on the middle wall. He was so sweet, soft, and sensual in those moments. You wondered how he could ever be a dom.

Trying to drown out your busy mind you took in the sights. Christopher, or Bang Chan as you learned was his dom persona, had an eye for detail. The room was decorated with leather and silk, reminding you of the silk piece he had you wear tonight. Red lights colored the corners tastefully. Paddles and other impact gear were organized along the walls. Ropes were twisted neatly on the bedframe. A wand and some other toys were charging on the black wood nightstand. Finally, you took in the scent of the room. Sharp whiskey and leather filled your senses, a perfect match to Chan’s cologne. Being so lost in the art of it all, you didn’t hear the door close or footsteps behind you.

“Hello little bunny” Chris welcomed as he slide up behind you, gently wrapping a hand around your throat. “Are you ready to play little one?” you nodded in response.

“Words honey, don’t be a brat now” his grip tightened. 

“Yes Master” you meekly replied

“Good girl, here is how tonight is going to go. Every question I ask will be responded to verbally, Every order I give will be followed, and every word I say will be heard. Do this little bunny and Daddy will reward you greatly. If you fail to listen to me, however, you will be punished” His hand around your neck pulled you in close as he leaned into your ear and whispered “Hard”.

Tonight you were left with two choices. Be the good girl your dom wants you to be or have your fun and be a brat. Rewards or punishments were the ultimate questions. 

You picked to be a good girl tonight

Chan spun you around so you were facing him, it didn’t matter if he had a shorter stature. Right now he towered over you. Leather-gloved hands came up to fix your pretty white bunny ears on top of your head. Christopher cooed at how innocent you looked in the dark space. He was going to have fun with you. Those same rough leather hands tilted your chin up to stare into his intense eyes.

“What are your safe words bunny?” 

“Green for good, yellow for slow down, and red for stop” You had to admit he stole your breath away. He was terrifying yet comforting at the same time as he hummed in approval.

“What is my name doll?

“Daddy or Master” 

“Good bunny, such a good girl for daddy huh sweetie? Let's start now, how does that sound to you”

“Please Daddy” fuck, you were going to be the death of him.

Christopher laid you down on the black silk sheets. He leaned in to capture your lips in a soft kiss. His big lips pillowed onto yours. You were getting lost in the false comfort of it all until he bit your bottom lip harshly and pulled back. The moan that left you was forever engraved in his mind. After his stunt he went back to kissing you but with more passion and fire. His tongue delved into your mouth and easily took dominance. It wasn't long before kisses trailed down your jaw and onto your neck. He explored you until one spot, just under your ear, made you moan louder than any before. He latched on. With intent to mark what was his, Chris sucked and bit that section all while you sang out in pleasure. When he pulled back, he was satisfied with the deepening purple bruise left behind.

His next stop was your breasts. After removing the white silk babydoll gown, he took a second to admire your body.

“Fucking gorgeous bunny” as he would have put it

He kissed, twisted, and sucked each nipple while you whined and wiggled.

“Stay still baby, you were doing so good” The praise was like electricity to your skin. You needed him to see you as his good girl. So as best as you could you stayed still.

Finally, he made his way down to where you needed him most. Your panties were soaked from his previous exploration and from the look on his face, he approved. 

“So wet honey, all for me?” He knew the answer but wanted to see that embarrassed blush again from the cafe.

“Yes Daddy, wet for you,” you said so quietly you almost thought he didn’t hear.

“Good girl, that must be so uncomfortable bunny. Let Master help you with that okay? Dumb little bunnies like you need all the help you can get” He cooed before driving right in. He gave you no time to adjust to the new feeling. Pleasure overtook your body and you began to shake. Chan took this as an opportunity to slide in two fingers and scissor you open. 

“So sensitive little bunny, whatever am I going to do with you?”

“Fuck me please” you cried out so loud you were sure the neighborhood heard

“Cum first, then daddy will fuck you” 

With that he went back in, eating you like a man starved. His fingers picked up the pace, hitting the spot that made you melt over and over again. It was all becoming so much. A familiar knot formed in your stomach and before you could say anything it snapped. You came with a loud moan and shook uncontrollably. No man, woman, or person had ever made you feel like that. Christopher rode out your high with you. Once he knew you were okay he sat on the bed and pulled you into his lap, he just needed to hold you for a second.

“How did that feel little bunny?” he asked while petting down your crazed hair

“So good master” your speech incredibly slurred

“Color baby?”

“Green daddy, so fucking green” you panted, and with that, he tossed you on the bed.

He removed his painfully hard cock from his black dress pants. The tip was bright red and leaking. The size still scared you even if you had taken it before. But you trusted Chan, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you more than you wanted. He placed you in a mating press and slowly entered your soaking entrance. You couldn't help the long drawn-out moans that left you both. Once he was finally seated in you he waited. 

“Beg for it princess, beg for your master to fuck you”

“Please master please fuck me” You whined

“Oh come on now, you can do better than that. Yeah? Be a good little bunny and fucking beg” The glint in his eye and the smile on his face was terrifying in the best way possible.

“Please Daddy please fuck your little bunny! Only you can fuck me. God please just use me. I need it Master, you own my pleasure” Before you could go on he rammed into you.

He set a hard and steady pace. It was clear he knew the difference between fast sex and hard sex. Your eyes couldn’t help but roll back into your head. He knew by how you were clenching around him that you were close.

“Cum” is all he said and you exploded into ecstasy. Unlike before however, he didn't stop.

Instead, his gloved hand captured your wrists and pinned them above you. With his strength, there was no freeing yourself. His other hand reached behind you to grab something. You were about the question him until you heard a humming come to life. The black wand was placed onto your overly sensitive clit. You practically screamed.

“Cant! Sensitive” were the only two words you could create.

“What did I say, princess? What master gives you, you take. I know you can handle this because you are just my dumb little bunny who only wants pleasure from her master. So. Fucking. Take. It” Those last few words were punctuated with incredibly hard thrusts. 

Soon enough another orgasm rockets through you. This time however you clenched down so hard on Chris that he almost lost it right there. He no longer cared about your pleasure and needed to released. Like an animal, he pounded into you, wand long forgotten on the stained sheets until he snapped. He filled you to the brim with his cum and cursed as he pumped the rest of it into you. He pulled back and watched it leak from your fragile frame. You were the most amazing site to see. To him, you were the 8th wonder of the world.

“So good little bunny, so good” He whispered to you as he began to clean you off.

“Thank you Daddy” your voice croaked

“Shhhhh not now little one, I'm just Christopher right now bun” 

“Channie?” you slightly sat up with a sweet questioning expression on your face. He was going to marry you someday.

“Yes princess, Channie is here. Let's get you into a bath baby girl.”

Change Flavor?

[mastermindmiko]

Gatherings at the Burrow (Ron edition)

Pairing: Ron Weasley + Reader Warnings: none, but lmk Word count: 4627 words Summary: Gatherings at the Burrow, through a series of events always lead to a happy couple forming, this time it's Ron's turn.

I'm going to make this a little series with each Weasley having a chapter with sort of the same overarching theme, I'm not going to set any deadlines, cause we all know I'm not good with that, but here is the first one!

Gatherings at the Burrow have never been anything short of brilliant, I've only ever gone there for three years, but each year seems to be better than the one before it.

"You really should visit more often, dear." Molly says, whilst giving me a hug as soon as I enter. I raise my voice, sure to make sure that a certain someone that is also present hears, "I would, If my stupid boss gave me some time off every once in a while!"

"Go complain about it to HR!" Percy yelled back from the kitchen. Molly leads me to the living room where the whole room is filled with excitement. I wave to everyone and then take a seat next to my closest friend in the room Ronald Weasley.

"I haven't heard from you in a while, I almost thought about visiting Percy at work just to see you." Ron says, pressing a kiss to my cheek as greeting. I smile at the gesture and replied, "Since when was two days ever considered a while."

"It is when you're my friend." Ron says with a cheeky grin. Harry waves from behind Ron, and I say, "It must be terrible working with him everyday."

"It is..." Harry agrees, "Especially when he only talks about you or the Chudly Canons."

I flush a deep shade of red and pretend to not notice the way Ron shoves Harry. The twins babble about their new inventions and how great the shop's been ever since they finally rebuilt after the war. The older Weasleys (Bill and Charlie, along with their father) bicker about how Bill can't give his child candy after seven at night. Ginny telling Fleur how excited she is about her first Quidditch game as the Chaser of the Holyhead Harpies next week.

Even with all the clatter and noise, it's still very comforting, even more so when Ron slips his arm around my back. Another person enters the room and Ginny runs excitedly to the door. I hear a load of giggles and at their recognizable sound, Ron removes his arm from around me.

Ron and Hermione got together as soon as the war ended. I only got to know them when I started working for Percy, especially since the twins wanted to know who 'Percy's new victim' was. They seemed so happy together but before their one year mark, they broke it off. It's been two years since, I can't help but wonder if they sometimes think it's a mistake.

I've never been one to meddle, but as Hermione sat across from us, next to Ginny and Fleur, I couldn't help but notice the way Ron was avoiding her eyes. He'd only gave her a half-assed wave when she entered the room.

With my heart (for some absurd reason) heavier, I sighed and went to the kitchen to get myself a drink. I stand up and Ron's hand wraps around my wrist. He asks, "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to go get a drink, want one?" I asked, and he shakes his more than half full cup at me with an appreciative smile. I turn to everybody in the room and shout, "Anyone want a drink?"

The room quiets before everyone starts telling me their drink orders, hectic as always, just the way I love it. I head to the kitchen and Percy's got his papers set out in front of him, working. I walk in, and say, "You can't be married to your work forever, you know."

"I'm aware..." He trails off, as he continues to read some paper, underlining certain aspects. He continues, "But until that day..."

He continues to work, not even sparing me a glance as I start filling up eight glasses with drinks, trying not to get in Molly's way while she's cooking. I say, "You can afford to not work, excessively for one day, you know."

"I'm aware of that too." Percy says, and I slide his drink across the counter to him. The noise alerts him and he reaches out to grab it before it slides off the edge. He opens his mouth, but I interrupt him, "You can't possibly be doubting my ability to make a drink for you after three years."

He presses his lips into a firm line, and nods his head in thanks. I've learned to pick up on his mannerisms over the years. I try one last time, "Percy, come on, everyone's waiting for you, and I really don't want to spend the night, thinking that you're here all alone, working."

"I'm hardly alone, I've got mom."

"Who's about to finish cooking and will light up your papers, if you don't spend time with your family." Molly threatens, and Percy's wise enough to start packing up his papers. I finish up the last of the drinks, and place a spell to send each of them to their respective owners.

"Are you sure you don't need any help, Molly?" I offer for the third time that night, careful not to call her Mrs. Weasley as to avoid getting scolded. "No, no, no, you go rest my dear, and you enjoy your time, I simply do not know how we spent all those years without you."

"Your youngest son is to blame for that." I say, blushing at Molly's kindness. Molly fumes, "I honestly do not know how you were with that boy in school not only for seven but for eight years, and he's never even talked to you, I know he regrets it, all those years he's wasted not being in love with you."

"He's not in love with me-"

"He is." Percy interrupts me, and I say, "He's still hung up on Hermione, that's for sure. Besides, he's expressed his feelings about dating his friend more than once with me..."

After Hermione and Ron broke up, it sort of shattered the dynamic for a bit. All the awkwardness hung in the air, and even if it's mostly faded by now, Ron always says how he'd never date a friend, and how he'd rather face Voldemort again than go through all of that again. Sometimes when he talks about it, I feel as though he is looking right through me, warning me even.

"Ron's always been a bit daft when it comes to matters like these, give him a bit." Percy says, and I roll my eyes, I'd be foolish to even allow myself a sliver of hope, especially since I couldn't care less about who Ron dates.

I head back into the living room and once again the only spot left is beside Ron, I sit back down next to him on the sofa. Percy enters the room and the twins shuffle aside to provide a place for him, and Fred sends me a wink while George wiggles his eyebrows between me and Ron.

I roll my eyes at their antics, and Ron says, "There's something I haven't told you."

I shift all of my focus to him, and gesture for him to keep talking. Ron explains, "You know how strict the ministry is about breaking Auror Protocol, even more so when you've just finished training- like me, and long story short, I broke protocol, and now I'm suspended for two weeks."

"Ron! Have you told your family about this?"

"No."

"What did you even break protocol for?" I ask, furiously. It's already nerve wrecking enough that he's an Auror, dealing with all these dark wizards constantly, and not just him, but Harry too. Ron says, "Harry was in trouble."

I sigh, knowing that there is no way I could scold him for that. I place my palm on his forearm and say, "You've still got to be careful, Ron."

"I know, I can't have anymore dark wizards harming anyone I care about." He says, and he looks at me, that look, that stupid stupid look with his stupid blue eyes. I feel the butterflies flutter in my stomach. I urge them to stop, these are dangerous feelings and I will not have them.

"You really should tell them, sooner rather than later too." I advise, and he nods. He continues to look intently into my eyes, if this wasn't Ron, I'd be sure that he was going to kiss me, but Ron wouldn't dare. He'd sooner kiss an enemy rather than a friend.

He clears his throat, looking away, and pulling away from my touch. The butterflies die, and they are replaced with a painful feeling in my chest. He leans down, elbows on his thighs. He says, "I hear you're moving."

"Yeah."

"With um Thomas?" Ron says, and it's at moments like these where I think that there's something more. I reply, "Dean? No, it's not like that with him."

"You aren't dating?" Ron says, looking at me, eyes wide. I swallow, "No, I would've told you if I was dating someone, and it's been like that with Dean anyways."

He nods, and gulps down a few sips of his drink. He straightens his back and asks, "When are you moving?"

"I'll be officially moved in by Saturday."

*** ⋆｡°✩***

"Thanks for helping me Dean."

He sets down the last of the boxes, and he wipes away a bit of sweat from his forehead. He smiles, tired but genuine. I add, "I really appreciate it."

"You know I love spending time with you, but why couldn't Weasley help you out?" Dean asks, and I turn around and start pulling out a few items from the box entitled kitchen. I act, "Percy? He's working yet again, could not get him away even with a-"

"No, Ron. I'm sure he'd be happy to help, after all he is in love with you." Dean explains, looking at me intently, I turn around to face him and sigh. I haven't told Dean about the many conversation I've had with Ron regarding this topic. Last he talked about it was during Bill's birthday party, less than a month ago.

"Congratulations Bill! You're not only old, but you're very old!" George lifts a glass and laughs. The laughter echoes around the table, as Bill shoves his younger brother. Bill replies, "In a blink of an eye, you'll be even older than I am."

George waves his hand dismissively, and sits down next to his future wife Angelina. He wraps an arm around her and gives her a kiss on her temple. I could only hope to be that in love with someone someday. I can imagine how wonderful it would be, the kisses, the stolen glances, the words of appreciation-

"It's manic if you ask me." Ron whispers in my ear over the loud music in the club. I turn to look at him faces so close that I can could the freckles on his cheeks. I ask, "What is?"

"Dating your friend." Ron says, and I sigh, getting ready for another monologue. He starts, "If they break up, not only would if effect them, but also the whole group, I mean, he'd lose her and maybe even Lee, not to mention, it would put Fred in an awkward spot, who to chose, and-"

"I think it's wonderful." I stop him, and he raises an inquisitive eyebrow, I start my own rant, "You wouldn't have to go through any of that first date awkwardness of not knowing what to say or what to do. You wouldn't worry about what to get them for gifts because you've already gotten them gifts your whole life. You'd feel comfortable around them and you'd feel like they're your best friend too. My favorite part of it is that when you get older, and have kids, and grandkids and all that, you'd have so many more stories to tell them about how much that person means to you even before you ever fell in love with them."

I take in a breath, looking at George and Angelina, Bill and Fleur, Luna and Ginny, hoping that someday I might have what they have. I turn to look at Ron whose been silent since I've finished talking, and I could feel the gears spinning in his head, and I could see his cheeks turn red. He says, "You didn't think of one last thing."

"What is it?"

"That if you lost them, it would hurt a million times more."

Dean says, trying to convince me of my hidden love for Ron, "Don't give me any of your bullshit, I'm the one person who knows you better than he does..."

He takes a step towards me and places a hand on my cheek. He bends down and presses a small peck to my lips. He whispers, cheeky, "And that's only because I've been inside you."

I gasp, and hit him arm playfully, he laughs, and I turn red. "And you love him too, and don't even try to object."

"We've been at this for seven years now, and the only times when you stop kissing me or more is when you're in love with someone. The first time, it was with Neville and now, it's with Ron. You can deny it all you want like I know you've been, but you're going to find out soon enough."

"I really hate you sometimes, you know." I huff, pursing my lips. He smiles, "You know you love me."

I break into a smile, and wrap my arms around him in a friendly hug. He reciprocates, and then presses a sweet kiss to my cheek. He sighs, "I've got to go meet up with Seamus."

"Okay, thanks again for helping." I say, and the doorbell interrupts us. I wasn't expecting anyone. I walk over to the door, and open it. Before the war ended, I would've never done such a thing, but now I can open the door to my home without worrying about being attacked.

Ron stands with his face flushed a bouquet of my favorite flowers. Dean picks up his bag from the ground, and that's when Ron notices him, his expression hardens immediately. Dean says goodbye to both Ron and I then walks out the door.

I don't mind Dean's flirts from behind Ron, as I roll my eyes, and pull Ron inside. I close the door behind us, pressing my back against it. A smile on my mouth, as I wait for Ron to say something. Ron asks, "Is that Thomas?"

"Yes, you've shared a dorm with him for seven years, I figured you'd know what he looks like by now." I joke, but my grin drops when Ron scoffs and lowers the bouquet. Ron asks, "What was he doing here?"

"He helped me move in." I explained. He frowns and says, "Magic couldn't help you with all those boxes?"

"Not in a muggle neighborhood, no." I say, and Ron folds his arms. The bouquet bunches up at the ends from the action. I tentatively take a step towards him and I question, "What are the flowers for?"

"And you didn't think to ask me for help?" Ron snaps, and his tone surprises me. I shrug my shoulders and say, "I thought you'd be busy, and I wouldn't want to bother you."

"But you'd bother Dean all you'd like."

"Why are you saying his name like that? You guys are friends." I say, appalled by his tone, spitting venom. Ron sets the flowers down on one of the random boxes that surround us, and spits, "If you didn't want to tell me about your personal life that's fine, but you didn't have to lie to me."

"I didn't lie to you about anything." I defend, getting heated up myself at all his accusations. He shouts, "And Thomas only came here to help you move."

"Yes!"

"I'm not an idiot, I know what's going on between the two of you." Ron says, and I sigh, exasperated, "Nothing is happening!

"Please! It's been happening since third year." Ron says, and I huff, "Yes, but it's stopped, for a while actually. And you don't get to do this! I don't owe you any information about my life that I don't want to share."

"My mistake, I actually thought we were friends."

"We are friends, but you don't get to accuse me of things that only you see, and even if I was dating him, why would it be any of your business?" I shout, and he opens his mouth to retort, but then shuts his mouth and the door of my new apartment right behind him.

*** ⋆｡°✩***

I still hadn't gotten over what happened with Ron by the time that I go into work on Monday. The first thing I notice is Mr. Weasley not standing beside me in the elevator. The second thing I notice is the lack of red hair on my way to my office. The third and most concerning thing is that Percy Weasley, the Percy Weasley has submitted an absence notice.

If Percy is not working that must mean that something awful has happened. I send a Patronus to Percy and hope that he sends a reply quickly, my worry has me waiting twenty minutes before I rush to my supervisor's office to ask her what happened.

I knock on her door, and wait for her sharp voice yell a sound of acknowledgement. I walk into her office and stand in the middle of the room with my heels digging into her thick fur carpet. I say, "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I was wondering if you knew why Per- Mr. Weasley isn't here today."

"It was a surprise to me too, if I'm being honest." Her voice is harsh as she scribbles something down with her quill. She continues in a slow voice that has be just about ready to start yelling for her to get out with it, "Something about a family member in the hospital."

My heart lodges into my throat, and I think of all the horrible horrible possibilities as I excuse myself and nearly run to the apparition grounds to make it to St. Mungo's.

Molly's been getting really tired with her old age what if something happened to her, and Mr. Weasley too especially after Nagini attacked him a few years ago. What about Fred and George? They couldn't survive without each other! What about Bill? He's got a kid now!

Ron...what if something happened to Ron? Despite his stubborn attitude and insane jealousy, I don't know what I'd do without him. I haven't heard from him since the fight either. My fast paced walking turns into a full blown run, and as soon as I make it to the apparition grounds, I recklessly apparate without any regard for my safety.

What would I do if I didn't have to spend a decent amount of time writing him a letter everyday? What would I do if I had to spend a day without his incessant nagging and his irrational logic, and his gentleness and care, and his dumb smile.

St. Mungo's isn't as busy as it usually is. The receptionist tells me the ward that an unspecified Weasley is staying in, and I'm sure that I look insane, running like a mad woman to get to the proper room. I can feel my heart pumping in my ears as I see a sea of red hair. I see them one by one; Molly, Arthur, Percy, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George and-

"Ron!" I say, as I wrap my arms around him in a bone crushing hug. He's takes a step back from the sheer force of my hug, and encases me in his arms. I pull back and the words spill from my mouth, "I came as soon as I heard, I thought something happened to you."

"People should know that not all Weasleys are interchangeable, they should always mention who got hurt, I was so scared that something happened to Percy or Fred or Bill or-"

"It's Ginny who's hurt." Ron explains, and I feel stupid with the way I've been complaining when someone is hurt, and even more so when I feel everyone's teasing eyes on us. I ask, "What happened?"

"She fell off her broom in a match, and she would've been fine if she wasn't hit by a bludger too." He says and I scrunch up my face at the description. I just can't imagine what poor Ginny must be feeling right now. I ask, "What did the healer say?"

"That she's in stable condition, she's not awake at the moment, but none of the broken bones are that serious. She won't be playing for a while, but nothing is permanent, and she'll be okay." Ron says, and I nod my head. My relief along with worry take over my body.

I look into Ron's eyes, and lift my hand up to cup his cheek. I sigh, looking at him. Grateful that nothing's happened to him. The relief is too overwhelming that I believe I can't deny what I'm feeling any longer. He gives me that look, and he pulls me in by my waist.

Ron was right, it would hurt a million times more if I lost him. That's when his touch felt like fire, and I could feel my throat close up. I can't believe I let this happen. I fell for him, for this moron standing in front of me right now. I let out a shaky breath, and pull away from his grasp.

My initial reaction is to run away and never look back, but instead, I go sit next to Percy, who has worry radiating off him. I provide support for the rest of the Weasley family, not sparing Ron one glance, hoping that the words don't tumble from my throat.

*** ⋆｡°✩***

The next Weasley gathering was in celebration of Christmas getting closer and closer as well as Ginny's fast and marvelous recovery. No one, not even the healer's expected her to bounce back that quickly, but Ginny is an amazing witch, it was foolish to not expect it.

I wasn't going though, I'd sent Ginny a gift, and an apology to Molly for not being able to make it. My obstacle at the current moment was trying to get Percy to leave the office to go to said gathering without me. I say, "I can't go, Percy."

"You say that but you still haven't provided a valid excuse." Percy says, and I shrug my shoulders, "I've got work."

"Did you forget that I'm the one who gives you that work? You don't have anything to finish!" Percy says, exasperated, and I sigh, "I just can't Percy."

"But if you-"

"I can't." I stop him sharply, I run a hand through my hair, hopelessly and whisper, "Not while he's there..."

"I'm sure Ron wouldn't mind it, you had a fight, all friends fight. It's normal." Percy reassures me, and I feel my eyes water as I begin to explain, "I fell for him, Percy, and even if he does like me back...You know how he feels about dating his friends, imagine how he would feel about dating me, who is a friend and even considered a member of his family."

"I'm sure everything will be alright." He says, before mumbling something quietly under his breath. He apparates to the Burrow and I organize my office before going back to my apartment for the weekend. I place the pens back into my case. The paper sin the drawers and I lock them up with enchantments and passwords.

I hated not being at the Burrow, not making everyone their drinks, not seeing Ginny after being very worried about her. I couldn't believe that I let my feelings influence my life this much, especially when it came to the Weasleys. They are some of the most important people in my life, and I couldn't-

"Percy told me you'd be here."

I gasp at the voice, and I spin to where it came from. Ron. The silence was thick between us. I cleared my throat, and turned around to continue sorting papers into stacks. I ask, "How's Ginny?"

"Good..." He trails off and the silence spreads over us once more. I ignore it this time and try to focus on getting the organization done as soon as I can to get back home. I'm not sure how long it is before I feel him wrap his arms around my middle and spin me around to face him.

"Mom was disappointed you didn't come." Ron said, and I hoped what he really meant was 'I was disappointed you didn't come.' I don't say a thing, and he pulls me closer to him. The butterflies threaten to swallow me whole. I push his arms away, and I say, "Ron, you should get going."

"Why?"

I try to push passed him but he cages me in between his arms and my desk. I look past him focusing on a picture hung in my office behind him. He adds, "Didn't you think I would notice the way you've been giving everyone the cold shoulder since you saw us at St. Mungo's?"

I stay silent, he was right. I didn't send any letters, and the replies that I've sent were dry to say the least. He says, "I'm sorry, if this is because of the fight, but-"

"It's not because of the fight." I reply, and look at him. I can see the desperation in his eyes, and it gets my heart pumping faster. Ron furrows his eyebrows, and questions, "What is it then?"

My eyes well up, and I look down at the ground. Ron lifts my chin up with his index finger. He says, "You can tell me anything, you know..."

I let out a bittersweet laugh, and sniffle, "Not this, you'll hate me for it."

"I could never hate you." He reassures me, but he doesn't know how little it does. I feel a tear fall, and I cover my face with both my palms. I sob, "I'm so sorry, Ron, I didn't mean to, I promise."

"I'm in love with you." I say, the weight off my shoulders and onto my chest as I await his response, tears falling faster than before. I hear him take in a shaky breath before wrapping his fingers around my wrists. He pulls down my palms away from my face. His movements are slow and they feel like torture, waiting for him to say something or do something.

He gazes at me, and I feel even worse than before, I can't lose him. I can feel another apology about to tumble from lips when he silences me. I'm completely irresponsive as I feel his lips against mine and the feeling of his palms on my cheeks spreading to the rest of my face. I pull away from his lips and ask, "But you said-"

"Everything I've ever said about not wanting to date a friend was a weak and desperate attempt of trying to get you to not fall for Dean." Ron says, and I question, "But when Hermione-"

"The reason why Hermione and I broke up was as I told you, I didn't like her anymore, but the other reason was because my older brother's secretary had it out for me and my heart, and I couldn't spend another moment away from her. I didn't want to rub it in Hermione's face, but I should've handled it better than that."

"You're acting very mature right now." I say, beginning to light up, and Ron chuckles, "Bill had a talk with me after you left St. Mungo's, I've been waiting for the right time to talk to you about it."

"Remind me to thank Bill."

[zmediaoutlet]

spn20rewatch, 1.08: "Kid should stick with his family."

There's a son who doesn't want the life his dad's laying out for him and feels his dad's disappointed in him more than his dad loves him. This tension's so great that it's causing a communication breakdown between the father and the son and bad shit might happen as a result. Where've we heard that before. --Oh, you thought I was talking about Sam.

We tend to make a lot of hay out of the things Sam says he wants versus the things Sam wants to want versus the things Sam actually does, but Dean's in much the same boat, a lot of the time. He just rows that boat a lot more quietly... often by being very loud about something else. You know the con artist tactic -- make a lot of noise and distraction over here, while your hands are doing something else over there? That's often how Dean talks about how he feels about hunting and the hunting life, while his actual impulses are quietly having him demonstrate something else.

Dean's a good son. Dean's loyal. Dean's a hunter and he thinks that dumb normie life is horrible. He'd blow his brains out if he had to grow up in suburbia with a 3br/2ba and a 9-5 and a lawn to mow and stability and good meals and safety and comfort and home. He doesn't want that at all, no sir. Hustling pool and killing monsters and nailing one night stands and being a hero, that's the life for him. 100%. Why would you ever, ever assume otherwise.

With the benefit of rewatch hindsight, it's easy to see that this is -- not a lie, not exactly, but it's certainly not all of the truth. In later episodes we'll get dozens of contradictions to the Dean The Hunter self-told mythology -- dreaming about a stable relationship, absolutely delighted in the bunker they'll later call home, wondering about what life could be like if they were done. But we also know that Dean is loyal, takes his responsibilities (as he sees them) seriously, and that there is no way that he could just -- stop. He'd sooner cut out his own lungs. He has a job to do, and he'll do it, and -- very importantly -- he knows the kind of person he'd be if he didn't. He knows how the moral structure of this universe operates and how much can go wrong if he doesn't obey it, and even if he does think sometimes about giving up, giving in, throwing in the towel and just being done with all this terrible responsibility -- even the thought of it is worth feeling guilty about. You had a job, and you didn't do it? What kind of pathetic piece of shit are you?

DEAN: Dad never treated us like that. SAM: Well, Dad never treated you like that. You were perfect. He was all over my case. You don't remember? DEAN: Well, maybe he had to raise his voice, but sometimes, you were out of line. SAM: (scoffs) Right. Right, like when I said I'd rather play soccer than learn bowhunting. DEAN: Bowhunting's an important skill.

And so it doesn't matter if you'd rather have played soccer. If you thought maybe you'd like to go to college. If there was a girl you liked in a particular town and you wish you could've stayed. If you wanted to be safe in bed instead of crouching fearful in the dark wanting to be anywhere other than waiting for a monster to catch your scent, because your job right now is to be bait, so that other kids will be safe. Later we'll learn that Dean did talk back and defy John and that as punishment John would send him away from the family unit; that he made the mistake of getting caught stealing, and as punishment he's left in a boy's home. He left Sam for a few hours one night, and Sam almost died, and John didn't even have to say anything because Dean knew how badly his normal wants almost ruined everything.

The above conversation doesn't contradict those later details at all, because what's important is how Dean reacts to those punishments. Whatever internal wants he has don't matter. He has to say out loud and perform out loud that, yes, hunting is important and you must stick with your family and bowhunting is an important skill -- because it is! This is Supernatural and he is a protagonist and he must save people, or he's a wastrel who doesn't deserve screentime. But also -- what would it mean, if he didn't believe that? If he admitted that this wasn't what he wanted? What would it mean about all the choices he'd made, all he'd given up in the defense of this life he performs to the hilt, if he admitted out loud that -- actually --

Safer, in the end, to say that what you want is exactly what you have. Then you don't have to look at what it means about you (and about the family you hold as more important than literally anything else on the earth) that you were willing to give up everything else.

[liminalpebble]

Between the Lines, Chapter 7

Masterlist link

Between the Lines, Chapter 7

You say nothing as the tempo of your breathing slows and your tears continue to fall in warm rivulets down your cheeks. Everything goes empty and blank as an unmarked page. Time moves slowly and strangely as you watch his respiration still alongside your own, his broad gold chest plate rising and falling.

It's the calm at the eye of the storm, the calm of the unwritten and unknown, and you fear that it cannot last. A catalyst is coming.

There's a kind of relief to failing spectacularly, you observe.

The green tentacles of magic still gripping you emanate a pulsating glow, cutting through the late evening darkness with a preternatural liquid luminescence. With the dusk, the cold smooth walls of marble, and the ghostly light, his chambers feel like a tomb, all the warmth of the day banished by their master's mood. You wonder, in fact, if this will be your tomb soon. You shiver visibly.

Without the sorcery securing you, you might have collapsed by now. Standing feels far beyond the capability of your shocked system. All you can do is hang your head, tremble, cry, and await execution for your insolence.

Gods, what have I done?, you wonder.

Gods, what have I done to her?, he wonders.

“Look at me. Meet my eyes,” he orders haughtily, but his voice sounds oddly brittle, as if he's about to cry. Yet, when you obey and gaze upon him, there are no tears, no...anything. He looks like a perfect, stunning sculpture; alabaster smooth.

The snaking vines of magic recede and his arm supports you instead, sliding gently around your waist. His nimble hand rubs a comforting little circle against the small of your back. He's suddenly so careful, like he's holding porcelain.

Loki scolds himself for not realizing that you could actually be breakable, that you would have cracks in your armor just like everyone else. The pedestal he kept you on was too high up to see them.

His brother had always been the one accused of handling his “toys” too roughly, but Loki is horrified to realize he is guilty of the same crime, albeit in a different way.

It shocks the prince to see that his cruel games may be a good deal worse than Thor's less convoluted sins. Thor is a hammer, recklessly swung; Loki is a subtle poisonous knife, surgically precise in the violence he causes. His harm is persistent, insidious. The God of Mischief can shatter anyone and anything into a thousand pieces, whether he intends to or not.

This time, he didn't intend to. This time he regrets it to his core. This time, he would do anything to fix you.

Must I unravel every good thing? Must I even make love so terrible and twisted?

He shook his bowed head, heavy with culpability, trying to banish the thought.

“May I...may I show you something?” the prince asks, carefully.

You nod, unsure of what else you could possibly do but follow him in shaky, adrenaline-addled, steps while he supports you.

With a swallow, you find your raspy voice and ask the dreaded question. “Are you taking me somewhere to kill me?”

Loki stops in his tracks, holds your face as he gasps out, “No! No. How could I destroy such a priceless treasure which I labored so hard to find...to have here with me?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I'll show you. I'll show you everything.”

------

The prince leads you into a smaller alcove off of the main hall of the library, some kind of curated collection. As you peruse the volumes, you notice every spine has the familiar imprint of your name. Every one of your books, your works, your essays, stand meticulously organized on elaborate shelves.

Loki steps away from you, carefully releasing you from his grasp and pacing away, avoiding your eyes as he confesses.

He asks, “Now, do you see? I fell in love with you long before I ever saw your face.”

You open you mouth to speak, but no words come out. No one had ever told you they loved you; not your honorable but unaffectionate family, not your esteemed colleagues. There were no friends. There was no time for them when you had so much to achieve. Your family had praised your accomplishments in tightly-admitted “well done”s and “congratulations”. Your colleagues held you in the highest regard; bestowing awards and glowing letter of recommendation .

But love? No. Love was never something admitted outright. Love was conditional. Love was earned, and you could never be sure if it was actually love or something more like pride or respect or approval.

But this god-prince is standing before you, telling you he loves you; for your mind, for who you are. He loves you for those words you've sent out on paper, like origami boats sailing into the night; patiently crafted love letters to a world that never loved you back. The irony isn't lost on you; he loves you for your words, yet now you can't find any to offer him.

He continues, still unable to meet your eyes.

“I loved your stories, most of all. What splendid worlds you build out of thin air! Such beauty, such poetry,” he says wistfully, gently brushing his fingertips along the spines. “But, they always had such a bittersweet loneliness about them...a loneliness I imagined we both understood all too well. And because of that, for once in my life, I didn't feel alone.”

He meets your eyes, finally, and a shimmer of green light flickers down his face. The alabaster mask of his composure vanishes and unveils his true face, flushed a raw, pale, pink over his ghostly pallor. His large bright eyes glimmer with tears. His expressive mouth presses tightly shut as he wages war with his tumultuous feelings.

With a shuddering breath he goes further. “And I deeply admired your work, your vision, your desire for Asgard to leave its ignorant dark ages behind and move into the light of reason and equality. A society where knowledge of the broader universe is the right of all, rather than a horded commodity for royalty.”

You take careful steps towards him. Though you feared this might be yet another trick, he seemed heartrendingly genuine.

He's being honest, and it's tearing him apart.

As you near him, he takes your much smaller hands in his. He's suddenly painfully aware of how much more powerful he is than you, and how paradoxically fragile and formidable you are. He lifts one of your hands, the same one that had struck him, and settles it carefully against his cheek with an affectionate nuzzle. Then he turns his head, pressing a kiss softly to the lifelines of your palm and staying there, letting the moment settle around him like sand in an hour glass.

You find your words, and wince because you know they're not really the right ones. “I...I'm so sorry for hitting you. I've never done anything like that before.”

Loki chuckles...a genuine one this time, an amused little puff of air that pushes up the apples of his cheeks. You feel the contour of it shift where your palm still curls against him.

“It's alright,” he says with a sniff. “I rather deserved it.”

His smile fades and he meets your eyes. This time the aquamarine orbs shine brightly with the varnish of tears, and the frame of faint pink lining his tear ducts only emphasize them more strikingly. He's stunning; rapturously pierced and vulnerable like a saint in a Renaissance paining. It's impossible to look away from him.

“I adored you for your truth, your freedom, and your goodwill, and yet I've rewarded it with deception, captivity, and cruelty.”

You just stare at each other for a long moment. He's taken your breath away (something you didn't think could actually happen, something you always assumed was only a cliche). You try desperately to find some air in your lungs in order to speak again. Yet again, you feel as if you're not saying the right thing. Your responses seem so common and clumsy after these eloquent speeches from his silver tongue.

“I'm sorry. This is new for me. I don't know how to do this,” you explain, fidgeting with your hands.

“Do what?”

You rise to your toes, bracing your hands on the golden armor around his shoulders.

Be brave, you tell yourself. Be brave. Be brave. Be brave.

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