#could this count as a runaway experiment?

[weirdohasleft]

A Blue man and a Ghost meet in a church…

((Just an idea as I’m having brainrott))

Danny, with his horrific injuries from being ‘caught’, somehow escapes to his friends before retreating into his core. His friends take his core into the ghost zone, trying to get to Frostbite, but are stopped by (either Fenton parents or GIW agents) flooding into the ghost zone after them.

Tuck and Sam are panicking and so they wrap Danny’s core into Tuck’s beanie and Sam’s jacket before tossing him onto one of the flouting platforms and leading the ghost hunters away…they didn’t expect Danny to be sucked into one of the natural portals along the way down…

Danny wakes up in Germany of all places, alone, with pieces of his best friend’s clothing splayed over him… He takes this with surprising grace (not) and deals with his newfound homelessness in a foreign country as well as he can. At least his King status allows him to be a polyglot…

Meanwhile, Kurt Wagner had returned church that had raised him, planing on pay respects (again) to the Priest that had sheltered him. It wasn’t the same church, as that one has burned down far long ago, but there had been a new church built in its place. This new church had been abandoned soon after its construction, too many people saying that it was haunted with angry ghosts and feeling too anxious to worship within such a building.

Kurt had thought they had been silly, thinking like that and leaving the building to rot. Through, that was before he, himself, had caught sight of a ghost dwelling inside inside. Wait, no. This was still a living child. A boy sat in one of the pews and stared at him with wary curiosity. Through he was so washed out and in such a sorry state that…Well, Kurt believes he could be forgiven for mistaking the boy for the dead.

In the dim morning glow flooding through the stained glass, his eyes reflected and glowed in the shadows. Which was…huh. Seems Kurt has stumbled upon not just a squatter, but a mutant squatter at that.

[sixosix]

YOU'VE RUINED MY LIFE BY NOT BEING MINE | LYNEY

notes this chapter switches from lyney to reader, but you’ll notice right away when it does ^__^ and i also wanted to plug in my hcs of aether sjdkwd, wc 2.1k

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Lyney has had many embarrassing moments in his life. Everyone has their moments, eventually, and Lyney’s not the type to keep track of all of them. He couldn’t even count them with his hands if he tried—it’d be as long as Lynette’s weekly receipt of sweets.

The first he could remember was performing in front of a live audience. He forgot his lines, cowered across expectant eyes, and fumbled with his tricks, but he didn’t regret it. That experience made him the illustrious magician he is today.

There was a time when Lyney wasn’t too used to you addressing him so directly and face-planted on the floor when you called out his name. 

He used to hear from the other orphans all the damn time: “Aren’t you at least a little embarrassed?” They never understood why Lyney kept returning to you, even after pushing him away. They never got to understand how thrilling it all was. He was just a little kid with an infatuation—why was he supposed to care about everyone else’s second-hand embarrassment?

He never came to regret any of those. He wouldn’t be here right now if it never came to be. 

However, Master Childe standing frozen while Lyney fumbles with not letting you sway all over the place, might start steadily pushing itself towards the top five. Lyney barely dodged as you nearly elbowed him in the face. Graceless in every form in front of the 11th Harbinger.

You use Lyney to prop yourself up and whip around. “Where’s Lord Tartaglia?”

Master Childe pushes the door open, his silhouette like some angel coming down to say he will tell on ‘Father’ about Lyney hoisting the runaway Fatuu. Political-ness aside, it already looks bad enough that you’re drunk, and he’s dragging you. You hiss like some sort of vampire, and Lyney dutifully shields you from the light. Would it be rude to order Master Childe to fetch glasses of water?

“My head,” you groan.

“I’m sorry,” Lyney says, brushing hair away from your face. “Do you want to lie down?”

You’re not given a chance to lie down nor reply as Childe points a finger in Lyney’s direction.

“Hey, you,” Master Childe says, and Lyney blinks a little fearfully, spine ramrod straight. “I know you. You’re one of the orphans in the House, right?”

“What are you doing here, Master Childe?” Lyney asks, hopefully still conveying his respect.

“Well, the Northland Bank wouldn’t mind some wealthy connections,” Childe says proudly. “And one of the special guests here owes something to the Fontaine Branch.”

“You also know me, Tartaglia,” you chime in, stumbling around and revealing your face to him, wasted as hell.

Lyney holds his breath as Childe’s expression blanks. “Do I?” Childe asks indulgently.

“One of your subordinates!” you exclaim petulantly, as if sulking Childe hasn’t given you the same treatment he gave Lyney.

Childe turns sheepish. “I’m not too familiar with all of them.”

Lyney can’t tell if he’s disappointed or relieved. Instead, he brushes it off and focuses on your well-being. “Y/N, do you think you can walk on your own?”

“Of course I can,” you say, then wobble when Lyney tests it. “W-Wait—”

“Wait,” Childe says, too. “You’re Y/N?”

“Duh.” You sniff.

Lyney smiles. “Please forgive her.”

Childe’s expression does something complicated. “I’m not that good with faces. I do know you—I assigned you here.”

Something about that feels wrong to Lyney, but he’s not given any chance to think too deeply about it when Childe looks as if he is about to reach out to you. Lyney pulls away and takes two steps back when Childe raises his hands. The Harbinger blinks in confusion.

Lyney’s guard is up. “I-I’m sorry—”

Childe lifts his hands in surrender. “I don’t know what you think of me, but I assure you I’m not that kind of person..”

Lyney winces. There goes his first impression on the 11th Harbinger—disrespectful and maddeningly shameless. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to insinuate I thought of you that way, sir.”

Master Childe laughs. “It’s fine. It’s my fault for coming off like that. Do you need help?”

This is definitely beyond rude. You sway on your feet when Lyney moves. “Mon lapin here could really use a glass of water.”

“I feel like I’m going to throw up,” you announce. Lyney and Childe, positions be damned, share the same fearful look.

Thankfully, the aristocrat’s floor was safe from the assault of your breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but the bushes outside the mansion couldn’t share the same sentiment. Lyney and Childe had a moment of silent agreement to keep quiet about this matter if they suddenly wilted.

“Does the lady need any more help?” Childe asks. He’s actually nicer than Lyney expected and even younger than they say when up close. He's less intimidating when he’s not standing across with his features darkened by the light flooding from behind—that was certainly nightmare fuel.

“No!” you exclaim. “I can go home myself,” you say, still slurring your words.

“I’m not letting you do that,” Lyney says, helplessly charmed.

“You should,” you argue, then look a little green again. “Uh oh.”

Childe takes an instinctive step back. “Are you going to throw up again?”

“No, my head,” you whine pitifully. Lyney wishes he could pull that migraine out with his bare hands, but he also finds your expression right now a little hilarious.

Lyney pinches your cheek. “I told you to lay off the alcohol.”

“Did you not want to kiss me because you were scared I would throw up in your mouth?” you ask Lyney.

Lyney freezes, eyes wide. “You’re still on to that? How much do you remember?”

He wants to ask you a million questions when you’re finally not acting so skittish, but he finds that he can’t. He realizes he hasn’t seen you like this before—not hostile or wary of him. You look nice, like everything was before it was ruined. And there was also how you willingly wanted him to kiss you.

As you press against him, Lyney watches as you deflate like a balloon faced with a needle. You sigh softly, then bury your face against his neck.

“You’re so warm,” you murmur to his skin.

Goosebumps blossom all over his body. Your face brushes against the side of his neck. “Do you hate it?”

“I like it. My hands are cold. Every part of you is warm.”

“Would you like me to warm you up?”

“Mhm. Thanks.”

This is so unfair. Lyney wants to bury his face in your hair and hide there, hoping you’d cling to him forever like this. But that won’t happen in this lifetime or any other one. (He doesn’t pry you off in this lifetime, however.)

The grand entrance doors slide open. Lynette emerges from the party with a tentative look on her face. She swiftly rushes over to Lyney, then is visibly startled when she notices Master Childe still hanging around.

Oh. Right. Why the hell is Master Childe still here?

Lynette bows her head, addressing their superior. He laughs and waves it off like he’s no one important in the streets. His sister turns to him, whispering, “Lyney, ‘Father’ is looking for us. She’s asking for us right now.”

Lyney’s skin crawls. “What? Why now?”

She shakes her head, her eyes flicking back and forth between you and Childe. “I’m not sure. She wasn’t supposed to come this early.”

Lyney frowns, glancing down at you. “I can’t just…”

“We can’t bring her there with ‘Father’ in, too,” Lynette murmurs. Lyney curses, knowing she’s right.

“What’s wrong?” you ask from where you’re pressed against Lyney. “Oh! Hi, ‘nette!”

“Hello, Y/N,” Lynette says warmly. It seems fondness for Y/N runs in the family. “Do you have anywhere to go to? May I ask where it is?”

“Yes, of course I do!”

Lynette looks over to Lyney. “I don’t think this is going to work.”

Lyney, as much as he hates to, glances back at Childe, who is, unfortunately, and fortunately, still standing there.

“Good idea,” Lynette praises, seemingly catching on to what Lyney is thinking.

“That’s her boss,” Lyney says, instinctively shielding you from him. “What if she gets fired because of this?”

“She won’t be,” Lynette says. “And I’m sure that Master Childe would at least make sure Y/N is somewhere safe before he leaves. And right now, we have to do that, too.”

Lyney doesn’t want to, but he doesn’t trust showing you to ‘Father’, too. It’s been too long—he doesn’t know what ‘Father’ would think of you, and her decisions happen in a split-second.

“Lyney,” Lynette says, in the tone of Let’s not keep ‘Father’ waiting.

Perhaps Lyney really isn’t thinking straight himself. “Master Childe?” Lyney calls out. He takes a deep breath and says, “We are in your debt.”

You wake up to a pounding headache and realize that Aether’s hair glows in the dark when fully blacked out. You had an inkling when it looked like Aether was illuminated at night, but seeing it up close is startling.

“Holy shit! Aether, your hair!” You sit up but belatedly regret it when the migraine returns to full force. “Holy shit,” you say again, for a different reason this time.

“Stop swearing,” Aether sighs, looking alien as he moves and speaks like a human being, yet his hair radiates light like the sun—literally. “Can we pull the curtains open?”

“Nooo,” you sob. “I want to sleep again. It hurts.”

“Paimon, if you will.”

The fairy salutes and shows no sliver of mercy as you’re ravaged by sunlight piercing your eyes. It feels like all your cells are screaming in protest. Or maybe you’re the one screaming.

“Huh,” Aether says thoughtfully. “Just as I suspected. You’re wearing the same shade of lipstick.”

You don’t care about your lips right now. Thinking about how dry your mouth is has you wanting to throw up. “What does that even mean?”

Aether ignores it. He’s starting to act like a stern, disappointing mother. “Do you remember what happened last night? Imagine my surprise when I see Childe sneaking in my teapot, carrying you like a passed-out damsel.”

Memories of last night flashed behind your eyelids, most of them featuring the 11th Harbinger, and your blood runs cold. “Oh no.”

“He’s still here, and he’s asking to talk with you.”

Your cells haven’t stopped screaming; they’re scattering around in panic. You certainly feel as if you’re being jostled around. “I think I’m going to throw up again.”

Pitying you, Aether reaches from the bedside desk and hands a glass full of water that’s delightfully the perfect temperature. But apparently, he doesn’t pity you enough to not drag you out of bed.

You didn’t understand what Aether meant when he said Teapot, but while on the way to where Childe was resting, Paimon explained that you were all walking in a floating teapot hanging around somewhere in some corner of Fontaine. Faintly, you wondered if you were still drunk.

Master Childe is all sprawled legs on the living room couch. He senses your presence right away, waving with a bright smile.

“I think I did pretty well last night, comrade.” Childe flashes a grin to Aether, who rolls his eyes. “They didn’t question anything!”

“It’s because you’re their superior.” Aether turns to you, plucking the empty glass from your shaky fingers. “Sit beside them. I have something to ease your migraine.”

You could cry. Instead, you obediently sit beside the feared and renowned 11th Harbinger, moving as stiff as a board.

“Hey.” Childe tilts his head as he studies your face. “You look pale.”

“Sir!” You bow, then promptly start retching.

Chidle laughs, “Calm down, calm down. You don’t have to be so formal. You spoke easily last night.”

“I was drunk,” you murmur, face heating up. You couldn’t recall how easily you spoke to him last night—it’s all a blur. Thinking too hard about it has you dizzy.

“Loosen up then. You’re a friend of the Traveler, aren’t you? That makes us comrades, too.” Childe sinks into his seat, grinning. “I already got the gist of the situation. I gotta say, that’s dangerous deceiving the Arlecchino, of all people.”

“If it involved Teucer, wouldn’t you do the same?” Aether chimes in, entering the room, holding a tray with three glasses.

Chidle guffaws, “Fair enough!”

Paimon settles beside you, looking as alien as Aether earlier by sitting down. Your drink looked different from Paimon’s and Childe’s, but you reasoned that Aether still needed your intel to not poison you.

“It wasn’t part of the agreement to have to see my subordinates canoodling, though,” Childe says offhandedly. “Your boyfriend was like a leech.”

“Lyney is not my boyfriend,” you say automatically.

Childe laughs at first, but it dies down seeing your confusion.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh.” He turns to Aether, who nods sagely, world-weary.

imagine: lyney returning to the bench he left you and childe on, seeing that you’re both gone, and exclaiming FUCK

notes omg its been a while……….How is everyone!!! sorry i know this is so short but im just glad i finally update after like?? nearly a month and a half?? 😭😭😭 tbh im not too proud of this chapter but i cant tell if its bc its been so long or if its bc its actually badjhfkjd EITEHR WAY THANK YOU FOR REAADDINGGG

TAGLIST.

@thenyxsky @aeferkssr @1mewo1 @lacrimae-lotos @meigalaxy @hyacinth-daze @miwafei @popochakku @svasilios @heyhazelnut101 @kruinka @waveto-earth @superstar-ethereal @mxplesyrvp @achilleas-dream @episodecete @jellifizz @auranny @motherscrustytoenailclippings @lovelyevil @iawaaaaaa @rionah @esmetrees @cherryig @kzhwaif @mystiquemare @unknownlololol @sanluvssu @blvdmrcnry @kascar-chronicle @idontevenknow129 @tarathecogsci @lunavixia @beaniedoodz @wendolrea @avalordream @egoistars @rains-mae @magnificentfireball @poemzcheng @fiannee @ask-kurayami-akura @sc4rlett-letter @xxxion @wangshuu @deathkat657 @powchakko @beasalmeh @h-8chi

[floralcrematorium]

2010s Nostalgia || Hetalia Edition

Hetalia Youtube Nostalgia Playlist | 117 songs | 7hr 5min

• Hey Na Na - Katie Herzig • Viva La Vida - Coldplay • Rasputin - Boney M. • Glad You Came - The Wanted • Hot Mess - Cobra Starship • Counting Stars - OneRepublic • Fireflies - Owl City • Bombshell Blonde - The Jagged Edges • Do Better - Say Anything • Welcome To The Show - Britt Nicole • Dance With The Devil - Breaking Benjamin • Survive - Sick Puppies • Life is Beautiful - Sixx:A.M. • Fairytale - Alexander Rybak • Everybody Loves Me - One Republic • Don't Mess With Me - temposhark • Mimimi - SEREBRO • I Like It Loud - Cash Cash • I Just Wanna Run - The Downtown Fiction • I'm ALIVE! - Becca • Lovestruck - Breathe Electric • I Like To Dance - Hot Chelle Rae • Haven't Had Enough - Marianas Trench • Kiss Me Thru The Phone - Soulja Boy, Sammie • Hard out Here - Lily Allen • Runaway Baby - Bruno Mars • I Don't Care - Fall Out Boy • Airplanes - B.o.B., Hayley Williams • Rock Star - Prima J • This Is War - Thirty Seconds To Mars • Hey Brother - Avicii • Cinderella - Tata Young • Centuries - Fall Out Boy • Déjà Vu - 3OH!3 • Sexy, Naughty, Bitchy Me - Lene Alexandra • Miss Jackson - Panic! At The Disco, LOLO • The Ballad of Mona Lisa - Panic! At The Disco • Europe's Skies - Alexander Rybak • Bad Apple!! - RichaadEB, Cristina Vee • Lying Is The Most Fun A Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off - Panic! At The Disco • Let's Kill Tonight - Panic! At The Disco • Hurricane - Panic! At The Disco • Casual Affair - Panic! At The Disco • Never Close Our Eyes - Adam Lambert • Playing With Fire - Ovi, Paula Seling • Angel With A Shotgun - The Cab • Nicotine - Panic! At The Disco • Killer - The Ready Set • How to Be a Heartbreaker - MARINA • This Ain't A Scene, It's An Arms Race - Fall Out Boy • Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na) - My Chemical Romance • Troublemaker - Olly Murs, Flo Rida • Good Girls Go Bad - Cobra Starship, Leighton Meester • I Can't Decide - Scissor Sisters • One Woman Army - Porcelain Black • How To Start A War - Simon Curtis • Maps - Maroon 5 • Do Better - Say Anything • STARSTRUKK - 3OH!3 • Remember Everything - Five Finger Death Punch • The Diary of Jane - Breaking Benjamin • Seven Nation Army - The White Stripes • When You're Evil - Aurelio Voltaire • Canadian, Please - Julia Bentley, Gunnarolla • Sarah Smiles - Panic! At The Disco • Take Me to Church - Hozier • Viking Death March - Billy Talent • Headstrong - Trapt • Semi-Charmed Life - Third Eye Blind • Don't Believe A Word - Third Eye Blind • Warriors - Imagine Dragons • iNSaNiTY - CircusP • Paralyzer - Finger Eleven • I'm Awesome - Spose • 24 - Jem • Clarity - Zedd, Foxes • Hall of Fame - The Script, will.i.am • The Is Gospel - Panic! At The Disco • Immortals - Fall Out Boy • Rather Be - Clean Bandit, Jess Glynne • Wake Me Up - Avicii • a thousand years - Christina Perri • Just Like Fire - P!nk • Safe & Sound - Taylor Swift, The Civil Wars • Safe And Sound - Capital Cities • Everybody Wants To Rule The World - Lorde • Demons - Imagine Dragons • DNA - Little Mix • Remember The Name - Fort Minor, Styles of Beyond • Victorious - Panic! At The Disco • 右肩の蝶 (Butterfly On Your Right Shoulder) - Kagamine Rin/Len • We Are One (Ole Ole) - Pitbull, Jennifer Lopez, Claudia Leitte • Hero - Skillet • Maraca - Mohombi • The Phoenix - Fall Out Boy • DONTTRUSTME - 3OH!3 • Teenage Dream - Katy Perry • SING - My Chemical Romance • Good Time - Owl City, Carly Rae Jepsen • White Rabbit - Egypt Central • Not Gonna Die - Skillet • The Kill - Thirty Seconds To Mars • We No Speak Americano - Yolanda Be Cool, DCup • Nobody's Listening - Linkin Park • Disco Pogo - Die Atzen • German Sparkle Party - The Something Experience • Dirty Little Secret - The All-American Rejects • I Could Be The One - Avicii, Nicky Romero • Can't Hold Us - Macklemore & Ryan Lewis • Still Into You - Paramore • Primadonna - MARINA • Pompeii - Bastille • 恋愛サーキュレーション (Renai Circulation) - 物語シリーズ • Awake And Alive - Skillet • Monster - Skillet • Poker Face - Lady Gaga • Falling Inside The Black - Skillet

[megamindsecretlair]

Runaway Lover, Part 1

Pairing: Big Stunna x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. ANGST. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female and male receiving) teasing/mocking, cum play/swallowing, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, referring to female anatomy as she, all consensual. Use of n-word. Mentions of God, Christian leaning. Sorry if I missed some, I'm rushing, just let me know.

Summary: On a girl's trip with your friends to Punta Cana, getting some much needed rest before spring semester, you bump into Stunna and a whirlwind romance rocks you to your core.

Word Count: 9,326k

Part 2 | Part 3

A/N: This is a wonderful ask from @melaninpov. I'm sorry if this wasn't what you had in mind, I've been watching romance movies all day and this turned sweet unexpectedly. Happy Valentine's Day, my loves. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @blackerthings @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @thecookiebratz @iv0rysoap @notapradagurl7 @sevikasblackgf @miyuhpapayuh @xo-goldengirl @kindofaintrovert @flydotty @judymfmoody @slippinninque @soufcakmistress @henneseyhoe @westside-rot @melaninpov @twocentuar @blackpinup22 @babybratzmaraj @theyscreamsannii @kiabialia

“Are you sure this isn’t too short?” You asked your friends. You stood in the bathroom of your hotel suite. The bright, fluorescent lighting in the bathroom highlighted everything. Everything. You wore a simple gold dress with intricate bronze and burnished orange swirls. It was a tad too short and showed a tad too much.

You weren’t a prude but you were also unused to showing…so much. You tugged at the short sleeves, the low neckline, and pinched the areas around your sides. You weren’t sure why you packed the damn thing, but you were drinking while packing. Something you vowed to never do again.

“You look so hot!” Your friend, Stella, said and moved closer to you and faced the mirror. She wore a violet dress with sparkling beads woven in to make it look like she wore a dress made of stars. It fit her deep ebony skin perfectly and brought out the subtle jewel tones in her skin.

You bit your lip, tasting the sweet lipgloss you dabbed on your lips. Abusing your lips was your worst sin and you avoided putting anything on them but tonight, you were all about new experiences. Hopefully. 

“I should change,” you said. You pushed past Stella’s calls out for you to stop and that there was no need. 

Angela appeared in the doorway and trapped you in the bathroom. “Damn girl!” You said. Stella’s sister was gorgeous in a marigold bodycon dress that hugged all of her curves and showed off her perfectly round ass. Truly, an apple bottom that she claimed was her best feature. 

Angela preened under the praise but did not lower her hands from the door frame. “You’re not changing. None of us are changing. We only have two days left before it’s back to fucking school and we’re going out with a bang. They better be throwing us out before the trip is over,” she said. 

She pushed you back into the bathroom. Thank goodness the space was big enough for all three of you. There were wide tile squares on the floor, a discarded hotel towel on the floor to keep you all from slipping, and two large mirrors over a double sink. 

Angela and Stella finished up their makeup and demanded that you applied more gloss. Stella handed you a clutch to match your dress and told you to take the gloss with you. 

You accepted it with a roll of your eyes. You’d likely go through the entire tube before the night was over. You were constantly at battle with your anxiety. Ya’ll really didn’t fuck with each other but it was like a toxic ex that didn’t know how to leave you alone. You could block, skip, and hop away from it but it was always lurking around the corner.

“Alright! Let’s go!” Stella yelled, getting you two pumped for the night’s activities. You all put on your matching heels or sandals, grabbed purses and clutches, and tucked in last minute items you may need, and headed out of the door.

Punta Cana was a balmy destination spot with plenty of resorts. The trip there had been uneventful but you and your friends had stayed glued to the windows, snapping pictures of the local plantlife, hills, and palm trees. 

At the resort, you couldn’t help looking around in wide-eyed wonder, taking in the people and accommodations. You had been here for a few days enjoying the beach and accompanying swimming pool at the resort. 

Everyone was friendly and open and a staff member was always around waiting to answer your questions. The goal of the trip was rest, rest, and more fucking rest. You were approaching your final year of school. After this spring semester, you were officially a senior and would have to enter the dreaded world of adults.

Stella and Angela kept up a steady stream of chatter on the ride down the elevator about what they were most excited for. The adults only resort was a breath of fresh air. No kids running around and no harried parents running after them. 

Tonight, you were going to the club in the resort. So far, your activities have kept you from that venue. You rode ATVs and did a snorkeling tour off the shore of the beach. You also climbed into a boat to watch the local marine life. That part was your favorite.

Angela had to remind you that you were in fact young and it was okay to enjoy yourself. Half the time, you didn’t know where your anxiety came from. You could be having the time of your life and then boom! Your anxiety was snatching your breath away and warning you of an invisible threat. No matter how many times you asked for proof or begged to know what the threat was, your anxiety only shook its head and repeated the warning tone: danger, danger!

You shoved your anxiety in the recesses of your mind. You were not in danger. There was no threat. You were only here to have a good time. 

On the main floor of the resort, the wide open arches and large windows let in enough of the view that you saw the moon ascending the sky. Sunset was losing its grip on this part of the world. Swirling colors of lilac, tangerine, and amber dotted the sky as night approached. The ambient lighting outside began to turn on one by one.

Stella looped her arms through yours and Angela’s arms and pulled you toward the entrance to the club. The music reached you first. Hotel guests were spilling in and out of the place so it must be a popular spot. 

You swallowed around the huge lump in your throat as you pushed inside, flashing your wristbands that confirmed your age and the amenities you paid for. The staff member waved you in with a polite smile and soon you were entrenched in the booming club.

The space itself was huge with plenty of dancefloor area. The upbeat, fast paced music got everybody dancing and shaking their hips. There were pillars stationed around the room holding up the ceiling but other than that, it was pretty much open. There was a bar area on a raised platform filled with tables and chairs. 

Most were all occupied as people looked over the railing at the brave people down below getting it on in various states of fancy clothing. Dresses flew through the space. Heels clacked on the floor. Hands were in the air in an undulating wave like the waters that crashed on the shore. 

There was a heavy smell of liquor and sweat and some type of sweet perfume in the air that tried to combat it. There was no way to combat the funk so it ended up smelling like sweet sweat. But that was to be expected with so many people in one room shaking what the Lord gave them. 

You and your friends made a beeline to the bar, immediately ordering sugary drinks that would go straight to your head. Alcohol was never a proper solution to anxiety. However, you’d take anything for a release from its shackles for the night. 

As you waited for your drink, you bounced your shoulders trying to get your body to catch up to your mind. “Naw, show us what you got, girl!” Stella said. She whistled and encouraged you to dance a little more, shake a little more.

Fuck it. You couldn’t let your anxiety win this time around. You started getting into it, shaking your booty faster and then backing away from the bar. You felt the rhythm of the song, waving your hands and getting your whole body into it.

You backed up one more step and tripped, your body flying to the right. You shrieked, hands reaching out to catch your fall. However, you didn’t fall. Strong arms encircled you. It took a few moments for your mind to catch up to the fact that you weren’t kissing the nasty club floor. 

Your heart roared in your chest, causing stops and starts that made you shake all over. The strong arms pulled you back to standing, righting yourself on your wedges. “Thank you,” you said.

You looked up into the most gorgeous pair of brown eyes you had ever seen. Those eyes were framed by a long face, wide nose, and a trimmed dark beard. He had a big smile with perfect, symmetrical teeth encased in hollow grills.

The man had rich, deep golden brown skin that he showed off with a collared navy shirt and black jeans. His upper arms were bulging with muscles, straining against the short sleeves of his shirt. 

He was in a word: devastating. 

“Are you okay?” Sound finally filtered past your racing heartbeat. The way he looked at you gave you the indication that he had asked it more than once. You bit your lip and nodded. You forgot how words worked. 

“Are you sure you didn’t twist anything?” He asked. His voice felt like what hot chocolate on a cold evening tasted like. It warmed you up from the inside out, awakening places that didn’t usually awaken for anything other than your favorite celebrity and brownies.

Your mind was slow, fuzzy around the edges, as it dawned on you that he was pointing to your feet. You moved each leg, leaning on him while you lifted your legs and moved them in a tiny circle. 

You looked back into his eyes and nodded again. “Good,” you chirped. 

He smiled slowly. Fuck, you could watch him smile for the rest of your days and never get sick of it. He was so damn cute. And hot. A dangerous combination that had you acting like Helen Keller. ‘Cept you could plainly see how divinely sexy he was. 

“Can I buy you a drink to apologize for ruining your dance?” He asked.

You smiled and ducked your head, cheeks warming up from the embarrassment of dancing in front of him. You looked down at his hands secured around your arms, at your hands on his. 

You started to move them but he held on a little tighter, unwilling to let you go. “I…kind of already ordered one,” you said around the thick lump in your throat. Come on! Get it together! What the hell was wrong with you? 

“Oh, are you here with someone?” He asked. He still didn’t let you go. 

You licked your lips, the sweet taste of manufactured strawberries coating your tongue and snapping some sense back into you. You nodded and looked towards your friends. They were openly gawking at you. 

“My friends,” you finally said. 

“But no guy?” He asked. 

You giggled and shook your head. “No girl?” You asked.

He smiled and shook his head. “I’m Stunna,” he said. 

You told him your name. He said a few times, rolling the syllables around his tongue like one did to a lollipop. You focused on his mouth and the way he said your name. As if he had been saying it his whole life and never wanted to stop. 

“If I can’t buy you a drink, can I get your number? You from the States?” He asked. 

Anxiety reared its huge, ugly, monstrous head. You were nervous to just…abandon your friends. Let alone your drink. With your luck, you lived on complete opposite sides of the country. You nodded, to give him an answer about the States. But were too nervous to tell him where. To even hint at the possibility that you could occupy the same city and there wasn’t a national alert about it. 

You were sure that he caused a storm of women wherever he went. You would have noticed if he lived around the Bay. You knew that you’d feel him in your blood, taste him in your veins if you lived in the same area. Certain that you would have bumped into each other already. Seen each other somewhere. 

“I should probably get back to my friends. I’m sure your friends are missing you as well,” you said. You reluctantly withdrew your hold on him. Your small claim for the time being. Relinquishing that hold hurt. 

He nodded. As you turned to leave, he swiftly caught your hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed your fingers. “Save a dance for me? I wanna see more of them moves.” 

A nervous giggle pushed against your rib cage, threatening to spill over. You swallowed it back down and bit your lip. You didn’t want to keep turning him down but your stomach twisted and turned. Danger! Threat! 

There was nothing threatening about the man so you figured that you needed away. You needed space to breathe and think. Time spent away from his spicy cologne that tickled your nose. 

You nodded once more. What were the odds that he’d find you again in this club? If your friends weren’t at the bar, you wouldn’t know the first place to look for them. 

Stunna let go of your hand and backed away, giving you a small wink before turning back to his friends. He was surrounded by a group of guys, all hot in some way or another? Damn. You checked out his back side as you walked back to your friends. 

“The hell you doing back here?” Stella asked.

“What’s happening? Why aren’t you sitting in that man’s lap?” Angela asked. 

“What are you talking about?” You asked. You grabbed your drink, the glass sweating from sitting so long. How long had you been talking to Stunna? And why did you feel like you wanted to run right back into his arms?

You took deep gulps of the fruity concoction, letting the alcohol seep through your system and chase away your anxiety. The cold from the drink burned away the lump in your throat. Being away from him helped. It helped in a way that was foreign to you to name or identify. 

People didn’t have physical reactions to others right? Like that was a thing made up by romance movies to get people’s heads in the clouds and sell more candy in stores, right? 

Your friends hounded you for answers to their questions, wondering what you spoke about and why you weren’t still talking to him.

“I didn’t want to abandon you for some guy. This is a girl’s trip. A relaxing trip,” you said.

“You better relax on that man’s dick! Like you saw him right? Like you saw the way he looked at you? Girl, please tell me she’s not that oblivious,” Stella said, leaning her head on her sister’s shoulder.

Angela tossed her hands up as if she were preaching to a congregation. “Father God, grant your child the gift of sight because she’s clearly blind,” Angela said. 

You laughed, rubbing your forehead at their embarrassing shenanigans. “I’m not oblivious!” 

“I pray that I’ll never do some dumb shit like her, Lord. Smite her and send the nigga my way, because damn,” Stella said. She looked behind you and you panicked, standing in her way to not bring attention to the fact that you were discussing Stunna. You risked a glance over your shoulder.

Stunna was sitting down at a table, faced in your direction. He lifted his glass to you and you smiled, turning around and immediately dropping it. The drink wasn’t helping. Butterflies flapped tiny wings in your stomach. He was killing you. 

“What happened to new experiences?” Angela asked.

“Not that damn new,” you muttered, sipping more of your drink. At this rate, you’d need ten drinks to calm the wings in your stomach. 

Stella groaned dramatically, throwing her arms across your shoulders. “As sweet as it is to worry about us, you see us every damn day. How often do you run across someone that damn fine in real life? In real life? He belongs in a magazine or on TV or some shit,” she said. 

That was the fucking truth. “He probably lives on the East Coast or something,” you said, waving Stella off of you. You were too hot. There were too many people here. Too many clusters of hot breath, sweat, and body heat raising the temperature in the room to dangerous levels. 

You sipped more of your drink. You tapped your foot against the hard floor, vibrating with energy that had nowhere to go. Nothing to do but zip up and down your body and twist your insides. 

“So? You ain’t trynna marry the nigga. Just get down,” Angela said and bent low, shaking her hips. Stella joined her, sticking their tongues out. Stella turned around and bounced her booty against Angela. Angela mimed hitting Stella’s ass and you laughed, waving them away.

“You two are a hot fucking mess!” You screamed. They continued to dance and giggle, shaking their ass and proceeding to make you wish the floor swallowed you whole. 

“Since our girl is romantically deficient, let’s get on the floor,” Stella said. You finished your drink and followed your friends to the dance floor. 

You started out stiff, not wanting to bump up against anyone. You didn’t need a repeat from earlier. Your friends noticed your reluctance and each took one of your hands. They began to swing you around. 

You smiled, falling for their obvious charm. You loosened up and relaxed. The drink finally did the trick and you surrendered to the music. You closed your eyes and felt the thumping beats, the instruments, and sultry crooning of the singer. 

You danced and laughed with your friends, relishing the feeling of being young and carefree. This was what you had been chasing this entire trip. This feeling of being present and in the moment. 

You began to twerk as the music changed, popping your ass to the beat of the song. Your friends cheered you on. You placed your hands on your knees and got lower. Someone sidled up behind you, not one of your friends you were sure. 

You shrugged your shoulders and kept dancing. Now was the time to keep living in the moment. You could dance with someone that wasn’t in your immediate comfort circle. You couldn’t always hang onto your friends like a barnacle. 

Large hands circled your waist and you leaned back into a lean but strong frame. The stranger felt like a man and a good dancer on top of it. Able to match your changing moves. The stranger grabbed your hands and spun you around to face him.

Stunna grinned at the surprise on your face. “I thought I told you to save me a dance,” he yelled to be heard over the music. 

“What took you so long?” You asked. 

“Like that?” He asked, exaggerating his words. You nodded. He matched your nod and then spun you back around. You giggled, breathless at being spun around like a doll. He pulled you around the dancefloor dancing to the fast-paced music with ease. Now it was you that was having trouble keeping up with him.

You faced him now and your hands were in each other’s, dancing with complicated turns and twirling limbs that made you feel like you were on Dancing With the Stars. The song finished and you waved your heads. “I need a break!” 

Stunna grinned, flashing those damn grills. You stared at them, wondering if he took them out during sex. Was he the type to go down on a woman? Stunna winked as he if sensed the direction of your thoughts.

He placed his hand on your lower back and led you back to the bar. You ordered some water and he made you order a drink. “Since you don’t wanna give a nigga your phone number,” he said with a show-stopping smile. 

You rolled your eyes. “Why do you want my number?” You asked. You drank the water bottle at his nudging.

“So I can hear that sexy ass voice in my ear,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes playfully and played with the paper around the water bottle. “You’re so bad,” you said. 

He shrugged his shoulders, calling your name like he was savoring the taste of it. “I’m still right though. I want to keep talking to you,” he said.

You could practically feel your friends on your shoulders like little devils pushing you to give him your number. What harm could it do? You held out your hand for his phone. He dug it out of his pocket and handed it to you.

His total focus on you while you entered your number was unnerving. You couldn’t help giggling as you put in your number. He reached out and trailed a finger down your arm, raising goosebumps in its wake. You messed up on a number and giggled in his direction.

“You’re distracting me,” you said. 

“Yeah? Good. But make sure that number right,” he said. He peeked across the screen as you backspaced and entered your number correctly. 

He smelled like his cologne, sweat, and whatever drink he had throughout the night. You handed his phone back to him. You fanned yourself with your clutch while he looked at his phone. 

He smiled and tapped a few times. “There, now you have my number,” he said. 

The butterflies returned to your stomach the longer you spent in his presence. He liked that he could fluster you so easily and tried his damndest to keep doing so. Your cheeks ached from all the smiling you did. 

You talked more about yourself and your friends and why you came to the D.R. He told you that he was out here celebrating for his friend’s wedding. The wedding had already passed, cheaper during the week, so they were spending the weekend celebrating with friends.

“It’s nice of you all to come out here and celebrate with them,” you said. Stunna turned his head to the side, he didn’t hear you. The music seemed to get louder and even though you yelled, he couldn’t hear you.

Stunna scooted closer to you and yelled in your ear. “Wanna go outside?” 

You looked at him and nodded. You couldn’t hear shit, but you were pretty sure you could hear your friends whooping for joy as Stunna took your hand and led you outside of the club.

Your ears popped as you reached the quiet interior of the lobby. There was a stark contrast between the two rooms and your ears rung. You shook your head, trying to clear the ringing. Stunna did the same, shaking his shoulders too for good measure.

Being out in the lobby, the base temperature felt like frost at the top of a mountain. You shivered as it highlighted buckets of sweat rolling down your spine and between your breasts. 

A drop of sweat rolled down Stunna’s arm and you followed the movement as it trailed down a prominent vein. Stunna still held your hand and you walked out of the resort, past the open pool that shimmered with light from nearby lamps. 

You walked along the concrete pathways heading down to the beach. Before you stepped onto the sand, you leaned down and took off your wedges. Stunna took off his boots, and rolled up his pants legs. 

“Looks like I was smart to wear a dress,” you said and giggled at him. 

“Damn smart. I’m glad you did. Your body in that dress, hmm,’ he said and rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“Stop,” you chuckled and shook your head. He was incorrigible. 

“Naw, I can’t. Your ass looks amazing. Thighs I just wanna squeeze. Lips I wanna kiss,” he said. He stood up to his full height and you stared at him.

Soft moonlight fell over his features on one side of his face. The lamps gave a warm glow on the other side. He was light, soaking it all up and reflecting it back out to seem like he had an inner glow. 

You sighed, staring at this work of art before you. You wanted to pinch yourself. You stepped closer but Stunna only smiled, grabbed your hand, and you took off down the beach. You spent time walking up and down, warm sand digging between your toes. 

You talked more, learning about him and how much he loved to read. You shared that passion and spoke about books you’ve read and favorite authors. He took your recommendations seriously, pulling out his phone to add books to a list on his phone. 

“Come back to my room,” he said.

You shook your head. “Won’t your friends be looking for you?” 

“Naw. I got my own room. I ain’t sharing shit with them nasty niggas,” he said.

You laughed, moving away from him as the sand made you trip up. Stunna pulled you back to his side. “See, yo clumsy ass need somewhere to sit. Come sit in my room,” he said. 

You were back in the same position from earlier when he rescued you from falling. He gripped your elbows, standing close enough to lick, and your hands were on his arms. He was too close, surrounding you with him. You couldn’t think past him. When you looked up, all you saw was him. 

You waited to feel panicked and shaky. To warn you to step away and flee from him. It never came. “If I go back to your room, I doubt we’ll just be sitting,” you said.

“I never said that. That’s yo nasty mind,” he said. He licked his lips. “But I like the way you think. You wanna come sit in my lap?” 

There were no reservations. No warning bells in your head. No screeches of noise or racing thoughts to prevent you from biting your lip and nodding. From grabbing his hand and watching each other as you left the beach and headed inside. 

You didn’t talk as you leaned against one another in the elevator. He placed a kiss to your head and you melted even further into him. The elevator softly dinged and the doors opened to his floor. He stayed in the building next to your room. You were sort of relieved. Had he stayed in the same building or even on the same floor, it would have been too perfect. Too obviously a set up by God or whoever was out there listening. 

Stunna swiped his keycard once he got to his room and opened the door. You walked inside the cool room and turned on lights. 

He had a suitcase on the couch of his suite, open to reveal some clothes he packed. He had shoes strewn about but for the most part, he was a clean guest. He closed the door and you turned to look at him. 

You placed your shoes on the ground next to his, marveling at the contrast between your sizes. It looked oddly perfect sitting side by side. You ignored that runaway thought as you quickly texted your friends that you would be late to the room. It was a good chance to not wait up for you at all if this night went how you were expecting.

Stunna watched you place your clutch on the TV stand. He moved about the room, cleaning up but it wasn’t necessary. Just bags and bottles of water that were on the nightstand. 

“I’ll wash off this sand,” you told him. 

“I’ll go after you. Take your time,” he said.

Take your time, yeah right. If you took long enough, you would summon your anxiety like an ancient deity out for your blood. You quickly went to the bathroom and freshened up a little, running the bath to clean off your feet. You didn’t even look at yourself in the mirror. If you did, you would chicken out. 

You didn’t want to chicken out. You wanted a wild story. A story to tuck in your heart and bring out as the years passed and you lived your life. A story that you held on to when you got older and your partying days was nearing its end. 

When you left the bathroom, Stunna had lowered the lights to make it more intimate and softer. He opened the curtains revealing a balcony that overlooked the ocean. He stood outside, twisting caps off of water bottles. He also had a bottle of Hennesy on the small table outside. 

You approached and he smiled when you did. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

He went to the bathroom to clean off the sand. You stepped out fully and enjoyed the breeze kissing your skin. You sipped some of the Hennessy, enjoying that sweet burn. The ocean waves crashed against the shore but from this height, you saw further than you did in your room. 

Few stars were able to wink in and out behind dark clouds in the sky. The half moon shone down onto the beach and over the resort. Stunna returned and wrapped his hands around your waist, leaning against you. 

He grabbed the cup from your hands and finished the rest. He kissed his way along your exposed neck, sending shivers down your spine. You sighed and relaxed into him. He made no move to do anything else, no roaming hands or nasty words. 

“You are so gorgeous,” he said.

You turned in his arms and faced him. “I’m done talking. Kiss me,” you said.

He grinned, flashing those damn golds that have been driving you crazy all night. “You sure?”

You wrapped your hands around his neck and pulled him closer before you lost your nerve. You finally tasted him, tasted the bite of Hennessy on his lips. His lips were warm and wet and his tongue dived into your mouth. You moaned as he explored, running his tongue along yours and along your teeth. 

Stunna’s hands gripped your arms and moved lower, cupping your ass and squeezing tight. You growled from how good it felt. How wonderful it felt to be in his arms. Stunna hissed in between his kisses, like you were both on fire but he was willing to risk kissing you through the flames.

Your back was against the railing and he pushed into you, rubbing his erection against your tummy. You moaned. 

“Keep moaning like that and I won’t be able to control myself,” he said against your lips. You opened your eyes to look at him. 

“Don’t control yourself,” you said. 

He laughed and licked his lips. He sat down in the closest chair and pulled you into his lap. You straddled him, wobbling a bit since his stance was so wide. Your legs draped on the outside of his and he spread his legs so that he could spread you wider. 

His hands searched under your dress so that he could cup your ass directly. Dig those skillful fingers into the meat of your ass. He spanked one cheek and you jerked in his lap, your pussy rubbing against the fabric of his jeans. 

He growled, fingers seeking your wet heat. When he found your clit, he had no mercy. He began to run his thumb around the sensitive nub. You scooted higher on his lap, needing the friction of his jeans to help speed your arousal along. Not that you really needed it. You were already dripping for him. 

“Mm, so wet. You always sit your pretty ass on strangers and let them finger your pussy?” He asked around kissing you. 

“N-No,” you moaned. 

He suckled on your bottom lip and your pussy throbbed. He was working some type of magic between your legs. Some type of spell that threatened to rip you into pieces. 

“No? You telling me that this is all for me?” He asked. “I get to be the one to play with you?” 

“Yess,” you sighed against his lips. 

“Then I should feel special that you’re soaking my fingers already and I’ve yet to feel you?” 

“Shit,” you sighed. Your arms were wrapped completely around his neck, holding onto him and keeping him close. 

He kissed your neck, licking it, while his fingers finally dipped into your entrance. You shook with a long moan, throwing your head back as pleasure rolled through you in cascading waves. 

“Nasty little girl, aren’t you?” He asked. 

“N-No,” you whined. 

He chuckled. “You letting me play with your pussy. And it feels so good gripping my fingers. Bad little girl,” he growled against your throat. 

His other hand snaked up your body until he gripped your throat. Your eyes rolled to the back as he squeezed with force. He brought your head closer so that your foreheads were touching. 

His fingers increased in pressure and he drove them into you. Effectively fucking you with his fingers. “Say you’re a bad girl,” he said. 

Your breathing was heavy and slow, not pumping enough oxygen into your brain. Or perhaps it was him. Perhaps he was some type of demon, stealing the oxygen from your lungs as your orgasm swam to the surface. 

You couldn’t make your words work. The words stuck to the roof of your mouth like peanut butter. Your mouth moved, working double time as he stuck two fingers inside and rolled your clit with his thumb.

“Say it if you wanna cum,” he said.

“I wanna,” you whined. 

“You wanna what?” He asked. “Shit, you’re so fucking wet. Can’t wait to taste you. Do you taste as sweet as you look?” 

You whined and gyrated your hips. Why couldn’t you say anything? Why couldn’t your mouth work to speak? 

“I wanna cum,” you finally choked out. You leaned your head back. He allowed you to do so and he kissed your neck around his fingers, dipping low to kiss your chest and just above your breasts. 

“Say you’re a bad girl if you wanna cum,” he demanded. 

You were close. Incredibly close. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you moaned.

“I’m waiting,” he whispered against your skin. Blowing air across your chest, around the pools of saliva he left on your skin. 

“I’m bad. I’m a bad girl,” you moaned.

“So bad,” he agreed.

“So bad. You make me feel so good,” you moaned. 

His fingers never stopped pumping into you. Your legs squeezed his and your eyes shut as you cried with your orgasm. Stunna continued to pump his fingers as you came, cooing against your skin. 

“So pretty when you cum,” he said. When you were done and slumped against him, he withdrew his fingers. Shivers still wracked your body. He moaned while he suckled on his fingers, licking up your essence.

You watched him as he closed his eyes and savored your taste. You licked your lips watching him. He cleaned his fingers and gave you a wink. “You okay?” He asked.

You shook your head. “I wanna taste you too,” you said. 

He grinned. “Get on your knees,” he said. You slid off of his lap with a lopsided smile. The balcony floor wasn’t entirely comfortable, but you were too focused on him unzipping his pants. He released himself from his pants and briefs. 

Your eyes widened. You couldn’t possibly fit the whole thing in your mouth?! 

Stunna chuckled and moved to put his dick away but you gripped his thighs. “I said, I want to taste you too.” You glanced at him as you took him into your mouth. He gave you an impressed smirk, licking his lips at the look of you taking him deep within your mouth.

You couldn’t fit all of him like you thought. But you got enough of him down. You hoped that your inexperience didn’t show. You’ve sucked dicks before but he was probably used to throat goats. Used to women taking him down to the base, fondling his balls, or knowing what the fuck to do.

You only knew that you wanted to keep going. Wanted to please him. You drooled on him and released him to get some air. Using both hands, you twisted his long shaft and then suckled the head of his dick back into your mouth.

His eyes opened and closed, back bowing off of the chair, as he groaned. His hand palmed your head and pushed you down on his dick, pushing you past your limit until you choked. He eased up, but you took him how he wanted. Your saliva helped your hands twist around his dick and coat his tip.

“Gahh damn. Fuckin’ nasty,” he groaned. You made a pleased sound in the back of your throat and continued to take him deeper and faster. Your sloppy, wet suckling was loud in the quiet air. 

You slurped him, drops of precum hitting your tongue. You suckled him all down, glancing at him periodically to see the ecstasy on his face. The pleasure you were bringing him. 

“Gonna bust,” he groaned.

“Wanna taste,” you said around his dick. 

His breathing turned choppy before he tensed. You felt his orgasm travel up his shaft before he moaned, releasing his cum in your mouth. You continued to milk him for every drop you could. You swallowed him all down. 

He pushed at your shoulders to stop, sounds escaping him that you never heard from a man. “Too good,” he panted.

You grinned. You wiped at the corners of your mouth. “You’re dangerous,” he said.

You blinked up innocently at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said. 

His eyebrows raised and he chuckled, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Remember you said that,” he said. 

He scooted the chair back and stood up, helping you to your feet. He pushed you into the room and closed the balcony door, leaving behind a tiny crack to still let in the breeze from the ocean. 

He unzipped your dress and dropped it to the floor, sighing at the look of your body. You never felt so cherished during sex. You weren’t expecting love and all that crap whenever you took someone to bed. It was more like an overwhelming itch that needed to be scratched.

After the deed, your anxiety returned with a vengeance and you were the first out of the door. No one wanted to deal with an anxious mess after getting off. 

With Stunna, there was none of that usual nervousness or shyness holding you back. You just wanted him. 

Your soaked panties went next. He knelt down, doing all the work of removing it. He kissed along your spine and back, the globes of your ass, and the back of your thighs. You shivered at the attention. The care with which he removed your panties.

He stood back up and unhooked your bra, freeing your breasts. He eagerly grabbed them from behind and rolled your nipples between his fingers. He pulled you until you leaned back against him.

“Can’t wait to get these in my mouth. I wanna be a gentleman, but fuck. I just want to break you,” he said.

A vicious tingle spread around your thighs. “I never asked you to be a gentleman,” you said.

He chuckled. “Fair, but I don’t wanna scare you away,” he said. 

“I’m a big girl. I can use my words when I need to,” you said.

“Yeah? Get on the bed then. Hands and knees, bad girl,” he said. He smacked your ass, hard and you did as instructed. You climbed into his bed and got on your hands and knees. 

You were too far away however. He grabbed your hips roughly and pulled you to the edge of the bed. He gripped himself and shoved into your inviting pussy with one savage thrust. His grip on your hip prevented you from escaping. You tried to lean forward, but he held you in place.

He pressed on your back until your chest was against the bed. Your ass was high in the air, giving him total access to you. He smacked your ass. 

“You been talkin’ mad shit all night,” he said. He began to stroke, delivering hard and long thrusts that immediately found your G-spot.

“Oh shit!” You cried out. 

“That’s my shit.” You heard the pleased grin in his tone. How did he find it so fast? 

He continued to stroke, hitting your sweet spot over and over with military precision. He smacked your ass with one hand while the other kept a firm grip. “You ain’t so bold now. A little dick shuts you up?” He asked. 

You couldn’t speak. He was slamming into you so hard, just the way you always dreamt of. It brought tears to your eyes. Most guys were afraid to be rough. Afraid of catching a case once you asked them to go a little deeper or stroke a little harder. 

Not Stunna. He drove into you, seeking something you couldn’t name. It didn’t take long before you were convulsing, shaking on his dick. 

“Talk to me, then. Say somethin’ else,” he said.

“Achgg,” you moaned, eyes rolling. 

Stunna continued to work himself inside of you. His dick speared you. Nearly split you in half. You bounced back on his dick, giving as much as you got. 

“Fuck,” he moaned. “Don’t let me stand in your way. You take what you need from me,” he said. 

Wet, smacking noises filled the room. The sound of your combined fucking pushed another orgasm to the surface. Your ass clapped on his thighs. Your screams were sure to draw the attention of his neighbors. 

He leaned forward and wrapped his hands around your throat. “Fuuh,” you moaned.

Both of you matched each other’s intensity. He pulled you by your throat to swallow every long inch of him. Your desperate thrusts sounded like thunder against his skin. 

“Goh, goh, fuh,” you chanted in rapid succession. 

“So good, so good. Pussy feel so good. You were made to take this dick, weren’t you? You were made for it,” he groaned. 

Your hands feebly held onto the bed in front of you but there was no use. This was so intense and passionate that your orgasm crushed you into a tiny ball and flung you into a tornado. You screamed until you were hoarse. Drool leaked out of your mouth with your whiny cries. 

Stunna continued to hold your throat and pound, chasing his own climax. “Greedy ass. Fuck, you take me so well,” he groaned. 

You were shaking as you rode out your orgasm. As soon as you ended, he began. He flooded your pussy with his cum, roaring like an animal as he climaxed. Your body twitched and spasmed on his dick. His dick hit something deep inside, too deep to know what. But it hit a natural reset. 

Stunna let go of your throat and held onto your hips to keep from falling on top of you. You both panted, harsh breaths filling the room. You sniffled as you recovered, brain quiet for once. 

Stunna slipped out of you and he leaned back to watch his cum slip out. He panted and his breaths fell across your ass and pussy. 

“Fuck,” he said. 

You agreed. You never felt something like that before. Possessed. Owned. It was a feeling you would spend your entire life trying to find again. Would you be able to? 

Both of you were too wobbly to move. As if with your dual climaxes, you had entered a new plane of existence. Being back in the real world sucked. It seemed foreign. You were changed by the experience so why hadn’t the world changed? 

Stunna left to go to the bathroom and returned with a warm washcloth. You cried at the sensation. “Shh, shh, I got you,” he said.

The rough fucking was everything you needed but you were fucking sore. You ached. It felt too damn good for you to complain though. He gently cleaned you up, wiping you down and wiping off some of the sweat. 

You curled up into a ball, trying to will yourself to move. To get dressed and make your escape. You felt like the sex police would descend from the ceiling and arrest you for upsetting the natural law of the universe. 

You couldn’t move. You felt too raw, too exposed. You focused on your breathing, on drawing air in and then out. Stunna returned from the bathroom and you cringed at the picture you must make.

“I’ll leave just as soon as my legs work,” you mumbled. 

Stunna chuckled. “Can you stay?” He sat on the bed in front of you. You were too afraid to look in his eyes. You didn’t know if you were over exaggerating the moment. You wouldn’t be able to bear it if you felt like your world tilted on its axis while it was just Friday night to him. 

Stunna laid down on the bed and lifted your chin with his fingers. “Please, stay,” he whispered.

His eyes swirled with emotion. As if the moment you left, this would all disappear from memory. Until he wasn’t sure if he dreamt this or it was real. It only mirrored what you were feeling so you nodded and he grinned. “What you need?” 

For your skin to feel like it wasn't going to slough off the moment you unfurled. You looked at him with wide eyes. He nodded as if he understood the turmoil inside of you. He stood up and then came around to lay behind you. His hands came around your arms and knees, pulling you into the heat of his body.

You sighed. Exactly what you needed. He pulled the covers over you, wrapping you in a tiny cocoon of heat. You drifted off to the sound of his quiet breathing. The last thing you felt was a tiny kiss behind your ear. 

In the morning, you yawned and stretched. Stunna was asleep next to you. Somehow, you were laying properly in the bed, head on a pillow and his hand draped across your tummy. You watched him in the early morning light. 

This was dangerous. Ludicrous. It was crazy to feel this type of connection with someone else. Someone so obviously built for you yet it couldn’t last. Tomorrow you were flying back home. On Monday, it was back to classes. 

After taking a peek at the edge of the universe, how did you go back to normal? How did you carry on and keep this in your memory bank? 

You had to get out. You lifted his hand to scoot away from him. Away from the oppressive heat that made sweat pool behind your knees. 

Stunna groaned and sniffed, pulling you back against his side. “Where you think you going?” He asked. 

You giggled. “Back to my suite,” you said. 

“You was gonna sneak out? That’s cold,” he said. His deep voice was rough from sleep and it made your pussy flutter. Really? After all that last night, she was still ready to go?!

“Sneak is such an ugly word.” You sighed as he finally cracked one eye open and looked at you.

“At least let me get you breakfast. You can get changed and meet me right back here,” he said.

You laughed. “What if I have plans?” You asked.

“You do. With me,” he said. 

You shook your head. “You’re crazy.” 

He grabbed your hand and linked your fingers together. Your hands were perfect against each other, skin tones perfectly aligned. 

“Please? Text your friends and tell them you’re safe. When do you leave?” He asked.

“Tomorrow,” you said.

“See? Give me one last day until we can figure out when we’ll see each other again.” 

You sighed. You couldn’t say no to that face. Those eyes. You bit your lip and nodded. He grinned, peppering you with kisses all over your face. 

He ordered room service and ate you out before it came up. He moaned and suckled while he did so, grinding his hips into the bed like he wanted to bury his face into your pussy forever. 

When the food arrived, you talked and ate and laughed, sharing more details about yourself but not personal information like the fact that you were in school or where he was working. You talked through safe subjects but all the information you gathered about him, you held it close to your heart. 

Each passing moment spent with him carved out a section of your heart and replaced it with a gorgeous, sexy man named Stunna. You did make it back to your room where your friends gushed over your night. You still had no words but you squealed while you showered and begged their forgiveness while you planned to spend the day with Stunna. 

They encouraged you, admitting that in a move that surprised no one, they found their way to their own flavor of the day. They agreed to come back to the room at a decent hour to pack away their shit and figure out their flight. 

You spent the rest of the day with Stunna, outside of his suite, walking around the resort. It had a small gambling area where he tried to show you how to play poker. He was a very sweet teacher, but you couldn’t make heads nor tails of the rules. You were more of a spades player, but good luck finding that shit here. 

You shared desserts and walked along the beach, sitting in the sand in between his legs and talking some more. Stunna stole kisses throughout the day, unwilling to leave your lips for the second it took to breathe and join back together. 

As night fell, you ate dinner with him and found your way back to his room where you slowly peeled each other’s clothes off. Where you feasted your eyes on his skin. Gasped as he entered you once more and you gave each other untold amounts of pleasure.

Where he held you like he loved you but fucked you like you stole something from him. You came, looking into his molten brown eyes, nuzzling your cheek against the stubble on his chin. He came with your legs pinned to the mattress and his dick threatening to fuck you into the mattress, the floor, and the next floor down. 

You kissed and cuddled while you talked about talking to him every day. He entered you again while you were stubborn, saying you might be busy. 

“Naw, this shit belong to me now,” he said while he thrusted into you for the…third time that night? Fourth? Who kept count while his delicious dick was inside you and you felt whole again? Complete. 

“It belongs to me,” you said.

He grinned and bit your nipple, then licked away the sting. He continued to nibble across delicate skin, moaning when he found your other nipple and tugged with his teeth. You hissed and your back curved, giving him all the access he wanted. 

“Do we have a problem?” He asked.

“Do we?” You countered.

He grinned and then slipped out of you, only to hike one of your legs up in the air. He reentered you from the side, slamming into you until you were crying and shaking on his dick, screaming out his name. 

“Stay talkin’ shit,” he groaned as he filled you up once more.

Saying goodbye to him was the hardest shit you ever had to do. It was like you both knew that even with talking every day, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same as lying next to him and feeling him take up space in the room, in your heart, in your pussy. 

He kept tugging you back for one more kiss, asking if he could walk you to your room. You were blinking back tears. You didn’t want to leave him. But you couldn’t stay either. Both of you had places to be, lives to get back to. 

He leaned in the doorframe, holding your hand and not letting you leave. You smiled. “Stunna, you have to let go.” 

“I’on want to,” he said.

“It’s not forever,” you said, trying to sound hopeful. Your words only sounded sad. He sighed and rubbed his head on his arm. 

“I know. I know.” 

He pulled you close to him, capturing your lips with a devastating kiss. You licked his lips, committing the taste and smell of him to memory. “Not forever,” he said.

“Not forever.” 

You turned and snatched your hand. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have the strength to leave. A cold numbness seeped into your bones as you made the trek to your suite. Stella and Angela commented on how melancholy you seemed.

How could you explain it? That you possibly found your soulmate in Punta Cana and had to leave him here? To be happy with texts and phone calls? Poor substitutes to hugging him, cuddling him, kissing him, fucking him? 

You told them that you were all fucked out to explain it now. Ask you in a week. When your heart wasn’t broken and the pain was less intense. Less potent. 

They left you alone to wallow while you all packed up your things and souvenirs. The ride back home was uneventful. You weren’t up to the usual plane shenanigans of talking and comparing in-flight meals. You didn’t feel like eating at all. 

You texted Stunna that you arrived safely and even spoke to him on the phone. But it only hurt worse. “C’mon, we said not forever,” he said. 

The bastard was right though. Hearing his voice in your ear helped but it wasn’t the same.

“Not forever. I just want you here,” you said.

“I know. We did a few things backward, but when we’re comfortable, we’ll arrange something,” he said. 

You talked until you absolutely had to go to sleep to get ready for class. Luckily, your first class of the day was in the afternoon. You had a chance to recover from the plane ride and time difference.

Everything was dull. The California sun was dull. The campus was boring. Students felt like aliens to you, playing and existing in a world that ended for you back in Punta Cana in Stunna’s arms. 

You sighed, not for the hundredth time, as you dragged your carcass across campus and to your class. Settling into your literature class, you didn’t share this with Stella and Angela. You were left to look out of the window, mind far, far away.

Your pen tapped on the desk, picturing that accidental bump into Stunna over and over again. Act of fate? Accident? How could you meet the love of your life only for you to be ripped away from him and planted back into your normal life like nothing was wrong? 

The door opened and you assumed your teacher came through. Whatever.

“Sorry, I’m late. Not used to the campus yet.”

Your head whipped around and there he was. Stunna stood at the front of the class wearing a deep brown sweater over chocolate colored pants. The sleeves were rolled up revealing his smooth forearms. 

He wrote his name on the whiteboard and your heart seized in your chest. Panic made your heart pound against your rib cage, practically screaming to be let out. You sunk in your seat. Ohgodohgodohgodohgod.

Stunna turned around and smiled at the class. When his eyes found yours, his jaw dropped and he stared. He stared and stared and you didn’t know what he was thinking or what he was going to do.

He cleared his throat and smiled at the class, introducing his real name. Not that you thought Stunna was his real name, but it was the name he usually went by. His eyes kept returning to yours.

You…slept with your college professor. Your life was over. Ruined. How the hell could you fall in love with your professor? And what the hell were you going to do now?

The Secret Big Stunna Files | Part 2 | Part 3

[lookmomitsmytmblr]

OKAY so I am re-listening to "Death and The Queen" again and I am having Thoughts™.

I can't find any info about when this drama takes place continuity-wise, but my personal placement would be after "Planet of The Ood" (4x3) and before "The Sontaran Stratagem" (4x4) because 4x4-4x6 take place directly following each other with Donna stating at the end of 4x6 that she plans to travel with the Doctor forever. Donna's determination to continue traveling w him is in keeping with the conclusion of Death and The Queen, where she comes to the decision that the Doctor IS her "happily ever after," as it were. Placing the drama after "Fires of Pompeii" and "Planet of The Ood" also makes sense with Donna's desire in the audio drama to have a break from "the extraordinary" of traveling with the Doctor (specifically, horrific death and destruction,) which adds understandable context to her seemingly being so willing to leave the Doctor after searching for him for so long.

 (Don't talk to me about the ending of Forest of The Dead. It's unlikely Donna would have left the Doctor even if she found Lee. Donna's desire to confirm whether Lee was real could be easily contextualized by her wanting to know how much of her experiences inside CAL were a fabrication, and what the supposed "perfect husband" persona would have said about her if it was drawn from her own mind. Also it was written by Moffatt so it shouldn't count anyway.)

ANyway, what I actually wanted to talk about. Notably, considerable emphasis is placed on Donna enjoying her role as Queen and especially caring for her subjects and having power to help people. A greater amount of text is dedicated to her talking about how as Queen she can care for her subjects than her love for Rudolph, even before the reveal that he is human(?) trash. Her attachment to the role of Queen that marrying Rudolph will grant her is established to be largely based upon her passion for helping people rather than luxuries associated with rank, especially in view of the montage of how royal life on Gorotainia is not as glamorous as she hoped but is still enthralled by being Queen. Later in the story, when danger has appeared, her main role in the story is sacrificing and taking the lead to protect her subjects.

Notably, when things start going downhill and Rudolph starts talking to her about the difficult choices that he must make as royalty she comments that Rudolph is “just like HIM” (the Doctor) and that she went with Rudolph to escape these darker aspects of her travels with the Doctor, specifically the hard choices that go with the role the Doctor plays in the universe (while she doesn’t connect these concepts directly, these two statements are placed very close to one another textually.)

Only when her relationship with Rudolph and role as Queen seems like it will involve some of the same dark choices that her travels with Doctor did does Donna decide she doesn’t want to be involved anymore, which is quickly reversed when she finds out she needs to become Queen in order to protect her people. (I love Donna. In case you can’t tell.)

The narrative has established that a large part of Donna’s attachment to her relationship with Rudolph is potential authority to help and guide people, and that her main interest in pursuing a life with Rudolph rather than her travels with the Doctor was her perception that her role as Queen of Gorotainia would not involve the same death and destruction she has seen with the Doctor. Perfectly understandable after experiencing something like Pompeii.

Donna’s compassion and empathy have been essential components of her character since her introduction, with her wanting to protect the Doctor despite being irritated with him and feeling sorrow for the children of a Rancoss that wanted her to be eaten in “The Runaway Bride”, her taking the time to mention Stacy in “Partners In Crime,” and literally everything in “Fires of Pompeii” and “Planet of The Ood’. Donna has always taken the time and the energy to think of others and work to protect them, even this early in her run. In view of how deeply she feels the pain of others, it is understandable that she would find the idea of a world where she could help others from a position of power without all of the death and chaos and destruction appealing, and her outrage at Rudolph for once again putting her in a position where she has to witness (and potentially be responsible for) terrible things happening to innocent people is believable. He proves that being a Gorotainian royal is like being the Last of The Time Lords. On a smaller scale, sure, but still. 

So the text (and Donna) have set up the idea of Rudolph being similar to the Doctor in role, so what is the difference? Rudolph doesn’t much care about people. He is willing to sacrifice his own people quite coldly.

The Doctor does care about people. How good of a person he is, or how good of a job he does caring for people is up for debate, but he cares.

Which all leads me to this quote from “Beautiful Chaos,” that I cannot believe is cannon and real and published.

Why does Donna love the Doctor?

"I wish you could see what I see. We've been to places, to worlds, to futures and pasts you could only dream about. I think half of them I dreamed up because they can't be real. But they are. And everywhere we go, we make a difference. We put things right, we make people happier. That's what the Doctor is all about. He finds a way for the universe to make sense. And I love him for it.”

Donna Noble wants to make a difference. No matter where she goes, she cannot escape the death and pain and suffering and chaos and nonsense that is the universe, and she can’t help but want to help. And right there beside her, the Doctor is working to put things right too. And she loves him for it.

We have this entire drama dedicated to Donna wanting to make a difference, while also escaping the darkness of the universe, and she learns she can’t. There are no happily ever afters.

Except with the Doctor.

I have so many feelings guys.

[powderblueblood]

NO SLEEP TILL - a runaway eddie au

summary sticking around town after the queen of hawkins high dies in your trailer is a fool's game. anyone could tell you that. but eddie munson's making a point of it; shaving off the excess. a canon divergent season 4 runaway eddie au with elements from flight of icarus. word count 1.1k warnings none, only that this is mostly an experiment.

Can you shut up and tell the story already?

It starts with a shedding. 

A snip, snip, snip and all recognition falling away under the dinge of a green-lit gas station bathroom. The acrid smell of piss burns through the stall, the kind that’s baked in and gets curdled by the heat. No bleach can cut through it. The ghosts of more’n three shakes and you’re playin’ with yourself rise when it gets above a certain temperature.

And it’s hot. Uncharacteristically so, for spring break. 

Snip. The last curling rat tail falls to the floor and he releases his breath. He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding it. 

Looking at himself, shorn, his eyes water. Not from the smell. 

He cranes his neck to the left, to the right. Tufts of hair stick up from his skull like he’s just shoved a fork into a socket. 

He wishes he’d thought of that instead. But.

A sound chokes up the column of his throat as he grips the sink’s edge, ringed fingers slipping on grime. He allows himself to the count of ten. 

‘To the count of ten, and then we dust ourselves off and get back at ‘em!’ His mother’s voice. Embedded in the recesses of his brain, this high rasp he’s never stopped harkening back to. It’s almost fourteen years since he’s last heard it. ‘There’s always a good reason to keep going.’

True. There’s always a reason to keep going; it doesn’t even have to be good.

He doesn’t have time to get all vitriolic about what’s been snatched from him. Not yet, anyhow. 

He’s still all hot with panic, even though it’s been hours since he left the trailer park. Gained a little clarity since then. 

Not much, but enough to shoplift a pair of scissors.

He tosses the hair in the sink into the maw of the shitcaked cistern and tears open a pack of disposable razors with his teeth. 

—

The red line he draws on the map squiggles up and shoulders out. A straight shot from where he sits across the state of Pennsylvania to New York City, a bullet out the nose of a rifle. He intends to make it there just as fast. 

He couldn't sleep if he wanted to. 

Every time his eyes fall shut, it’s a clear vision of her. Suspended in midair, sneakers hovering above the stained rug of the trailer. The lights flipping out, making him wonder if he wasn’t tripping out. The snap of her jaw to a crude angle, one that it can’t come back from. 

He wasn’t tripping out. He knows what he saw. Her skull impacted on itself. The sound of her tongue squelching as she choked on it. 

Like something was inside her. Tearing her apart.

He knows what he saw.

Doesn’t he?

Eddie groans as his stomach lurches. His hands tighten on the wheel. He can’t afford to spit up any more bile, not tonight. 

No time. No sleep. 

A crumpled envelope sits on the dashboard of the van. 

A letter he never responded to, because it’s easier to forget people when they’re not right there, bumming rides from you. 

A return address in Brooklyn. 

—

The moment the phone rings, she knows something is wrong. It gets yanked up in her gut, some feeling she’s tried to stamp down because she’s a grown up now and she can’t be caught mourning sandbox shit. 

The competitive pace of her life doesn’t allow for it. She doesn’t have room in her schedule for homesickness like that. Can’t cram it in between classes and looking for an internship at a law firm that can overlook her humble beginnings. 

This marks the second year she’s been away from home for spring break. It was harder to fill the gap the first time around, and to talk her grandmother down, but she made good use of being a country mouse in the big city. Found some bars and libraries and bookstores she’s kept as favorites. 

Tried not to think about how she was so bummed out that she was forced to enjoy them alone. And failed. 

She wrote a letter, a long one, in a dinky dyke bar on St Mark’s Place which was all strung up with Christmas lights. She’d obviously flinched when she heard it called a ‘dyke bar’--so open and proud like that. It wasn’t like when people flung the d-word around where she was from. It wasn’t derogatory; just a descriptor. Toothless, in the mouth of a chick with a shorn head that had told her so. Almost friendly. She told her that her name was Tina, too. 

“I knew a Tina,” she’d nervously said, plucking at the label of her beer bottle, “She was captain of the cheerleading squad. At my high school.”

Tina sniffed a laugh. “You’re a long way from home, ain’t ya?”

About a ten hour drive. 

She got an impulse to write after two Mai Tais and another beer and a half. Dug a copy of The Dark Tower out of her backpack and started tearing out the flyleaves.

Tina let her borrow a pen and she scrawled and scrawled away in that half-light, letter becoming more illegible the drunker she got. 

She remembered that she’d written this, in closing–

‘In closing, I think you’re a fucking piece of shit stubborn asshole. A naive moron who’d step on his own uncle’s neck for an opportunity that looked shiny enough. Fuck you, and fuck California, and I can’t believe you’d fucking do this to me after everything and not even call or anything. I think you’re just like your dad. 

If you ever need a place to stay, you can’t come here.

But if you show up, there’s nothing I can do about it, I guess.’

Weeks later, gripping onto a pole on a crowded subway train, she got a chill down the spine that she was sure meant the letter had made it to Indiana. 

He never wrote back. Probably for the better. 

The same chill pulls in her gut when the phone trills at 6:30 in the morning. The phantom umbilical cord. 

She’s up, because she’s become all regimented now. Riding on a scholarship will do that to you. 

She picks up the slippery seashell pink handset so as not to wake her roommates, because they hate her enough already. 

Though, she really nearly doesn’t. Because she’s scared.

Silence on the line.

“What happened?”

“Ronnie…”

“Wayne? What happened?”

“He’s gone.”

Her whole throat constricts, her body fighting against whatever those words mean. Thoughts start running at hyperspeed– absolutely not, there’s no way, no possible way, I would know. I would know. It’s not that. 

“Whaddayou mean, gone?”

“Can’t find him anywhere.” The beat Wayne leaves makes her realize there’s cold sweat icing her brow. “But I found something else. Something bad.”

Not gone as in dead. Gone as in missing.

—

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS KEEP THE FIC ALIVE. lmk if you enjoyed this because i may continue to write it extremely non-linearly! as an exercise in examining friendships, paranoia and hanging out with eddie and ronnie.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

A Fresh Start [4]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: use of fake name, reader’s on the run, grogu is a menace

Word Count: 3,160

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night,  you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a  far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be  exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more  and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly  head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

Ch. #04: MAYFELD DIDN’T MEAN TO STEP ON HIM

Chapter Summary: As acting Deputy for the day, you keep the city safe by watching the Marshal crawl out of a hole in the wall.

     “Taking time to do nothing often brings everything into perspective.” ⏤Doe Zantamata  

  This was the first time you had ever walked the city streets with Mando, you realized. Up until now, you’d explore the sights of Nevarro with Grogu or Nima, and it’d be during his work hours. Nobody seemed caught off guard by the silver beskar warrior, which made sense considering this was his city, but it was still odd that all the attention drifting your way was to greet the man beside you eagerly. Mando always returned the greetings with a simple nod of his head.  Walking beside him, you felt weirdly safe. Not that you didn’t feel safe walking these streets alone, but being side by side with a Mandalorian brought a sense of confidence. You doubted there was a soul in the universe who would willingly start a fight up with the man beside you.

 Both of you walked a step behind Grogu’s pram. He was mumbling to himself while playing with the stuffed, blue frog. Around all of you, the street was decorated with bright flowers and banners. Each side was lined with various stalls selling every kind of item you could think of and from the looks of it the stalls went all the way up the street to the plaza in front of the Magistrate building.

 “Does this happen every weekend?” You asked.

 “Not every weekend. Just once a month. Karga is trying to increase that though.”

 You continued to gaze around, waving at the vendors who waved at you, “Where I lived in the city, we had a marketplace this size that stuck around all the time, but it wasn’t as fun as this. In fact, I’d describe it less as cute and cheery, and more dangerous and shady.” You glanced toward Mando. “I’m pretty sure someone got mugged there daily.”

 “Did you live there alone?” Mando asked.

 “Mhmm. I have some family in Naboo still, but I lived alone on Coruscant. Tatooine too.”

 “Mos Espa, right?” You nodded in response. Mando continued. “That’s quite the change. What took you to Tatooine in the first place?”

 One of the last patients you treated had told you about Tatooine. He said Mos Espa was a desert hell scape that lowlifes and runaways called home because they belonged to no other world in the universe. Needless to say, he hadn’t been a fan and he had a scud experience there. It hadn’t been a revolutionary conversation, but for some reason it stuck in your brain. So, when your life spiraled out of control, and you decided to make a run for it, that was where you went.

 You were a lowlife and a runaway, and you didn’t belong anywhere anymore.

 “A friend told me it was a fun place to live.” You shrugged.

 Mando shook his head, “I’m not sure that person should be called a friend if they sent you to that corner of the universe.”

 “Bright eyes!” The sudden new voice startled you. Grogu dropped his stuffed toy at the sound and immediately lifted his arms. Seconds later, an older woman with bushy, curly hair stormed up with an ankle tall, one eyed droid stumbling around her ankles. Her face was decorated with a wide grin as she spoke directly to the child. “Oh, how I’ve missed you!” She scooped him up. “Your father has been keeping you from me.”

 “You were literally the one who suggested I hire someone to watch him.” Mando sighed.

 “Don’t you start with those excuses, tin man.” She snapped.

 Mando motioned to the woman. “This is Peli. Peli, this is Soran.”

 “Oh!” Your eyes widened, recognizing the name, “It’s nice to meet you. Nima has told me so much about you. She idolizes you.”

 Peli bounced Grogu on her hip. “She’s a good kid. Just don’t tell her I told you that.” It seemed like Nima hadn’t exaggerated in any of the stories she told you. “Now, I’m taking the kid.” Peli lightly kicked the droid. “Get the pram!”

 Without another word, you watched as the woman walked away with Grogu and her droid dragged the pram beside her. You turned your head to look up at Mando who was shaking his head. “Um, I think your child was just kidnapped.”

 “Fighting Peli isn’t worth the energy.”

 Music wafted through the air, mingling with the smell of food and sweets, and the crowd drifted around the both of you. Mando and you were just standing in the middle of the street now⏤ childless. Before, you at least had Grogu with you, but now you were alone with him. No adorable babbling to break up the awkward silences. Mando suddenly began to walk once more, and your eyes momentarily widened before keeping up with him.

 “Can I ask you something probably considered personal?” You blurted. Mando glanced at you briefly before nodding. “Did you really used to be a bounty hunter?” His steps faltered and he did a double take toward you. Nervously, you held your hands up in surrender. “Sorry.”

 “No, no. I’m not upset.” Mando replied. “I just… It caught me off guard. I thought everyone already knew that.”

 “Oh,” You grinned, “Well, Nima did tell me you were, but Nima tells me a lot of things. Only 60% ends up being true.” Mando let out a soft chuckle and nod. “So, that’s a yes then?”

 “Yes, I was.”

 “Why’d you stop?”

 “This job, I suppose.” Mando shrugged. The two of you paused so a set of people could carry armfuls of boxes across the path. “I was still taking bounties with Grogu at one time, to afford fuel and supplies, but I haven’t picked up a bounty since settling here.”

 You nodded. The moment the path cleared you both began walking again. A woman held out an arm draped in thick scarves she was selling, and you politely shook your head and stepped past her. You cleared your throat. “I have another personal question⏤”

 “You can ask anything you want, cyar’ika.” Mando interrupted you. You didn’t recognize the word at the end of his sentence. Though the accent made you believe it to be Mando’a. The tone he held conveyed a friendly air that settled any remaining nerves you had at the moment. Your lips curled up in a broad smile at him. Mando stiffly rolled his shoulders with a muted cough. “Go on.”

 “How did you and Grogu meet?” You asked. “I know you adopted him, obviously, but was it at birth or…”

 Mando tilted his head with a light huff. “He was a quarry actually. I was hired to pick him up and deliver him to a man here in Nevarro.” His words made you wonder what meeting that version of Mando would be like. “While bringing him here, he saved my life.”

 “Aw, so you never turned him in?”

 “No, I did.”

 “Oh.” You blurted in surprise. “Huh.”

 Mando paused at the edge of the street and you did the same. You had reached the mouth of the plaza where a band stood off to the side playing music as the townspeople shopped at the vendors perched around the circular space.

 “But I did come back for him.” Mando finished. “I should’ve never left him in the first place. It was a mistake.”

 “It sounds like you more than redeemed yourself.” You replied. He turned his head to stare at you, and this time you stared back in hopes that you could gauge something through the black glass of his visor. He was better at holding your gaze though because it only took seconds before you had to glance away. “It’s just obvious Grogu loves you like crazy, and he’s a great kid which is a testament to the guy raising him.”

 “Thank you.” Mando hummed. The two of you stood side by side in silence, but this one wasn't awkward. It was comfortable, and you could just enjoy the bubble of laughter, music, and chatter that surrounded you. Mando motioned across the plaza and you followed his hand to where a dark skinned man in elegant red and gold robes stood speaking to a few others. “Have you met Karga yet?”

 “High Magistrate Karga? The guy, you know, running Nevarro?” You shook your head with a disbelieving laugh. “No. He always seemed a bit busy for me to suddenly stop and introduce myself.”

 “Come on.” Mando chuckled. He set his hand on your upper back and led you closer to the large, busy building. If eyes hadn’t been on you before when you were walking side by side with the Mandalorian, they certainly were now as you grew closer and closer to the High Magistrate. When you were a few feet away, Karga’s eyes glanced over and his face brightened. He stepped away from the people he was speaking to so he could meet you halfway. “Karga.”

 “Mando!” He greeted, holding out an arm. Mando pulled his hand away from your back to return the greeting. Karga’s eyes drifted to you with a smile. “And who is this beautiful, young woman?”

 “Hi, I’m Soran. It’s very nice to meet you, sir.” You replied.

 “Please, no need for the formalities.” Karga laughed. “Any friend of Mando’s is a friend of mine. I believe I’ve seen you around some. You’re no traveler here, correct?”

 You shook your head. “No. I moved in with Mando.” Karga’s eyes momentarily widened and you held a hand out to clarify. “As his nanny⏤ Grogu’s nanny. I’m Grogu’s nanny.”

 “Ah!” Karga laughed. “I understand now. You’re Nima’s cousin then? Sorry for the confusion, I was expecting someone a little less human.” He glanced around. “Where is the little guy though?”

 “Peli beat you to him.” Mando replied. He pressed a few buttons on his gauntlet.

 “Damn.” Karga shook his head with a mumbled curse. His hands drifted to his waist and his attention swiveled to focus solely on the Mandalorian beside you. “I’m actually glad I ran into you. We have a problem. The Anzellans who run the droid repair shop two streets over have some complaints.”

 Mando crossed his arms. “Today’s my day off. Mayfeld is running point.”

 “Mayfeld doesn’t quite have your…charm.” Karga replied. “Besides, the Anzellans hate him after what happened last time.”

 “It was an accident. Mayfeld didn’t mean to step on him.”

 “Yes, well they’re not quite ready to let bygones be bygones.”

 “Too bad. He’s the Deputy on shift. They either file their complaint with him or wait until tomorrow.” Mando said simply. You wondered if that meant Cara was off today too. On weekends did just one of them work?

 Peli’s voice shouting from behind you made you glance over your shoulder to see the woman rushing over with Grogu’s pram beside her. Briefly, you worried something was going on with the kid, but he seemed as chipper as ever as he nibbled on a stick of meat. Peli must have bought it for him.

 “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”

 “I messaged you where we are.” Mando motioned to his gauntlet.

 “Whatever.” Peli waved his words off. “Here’s your boy back. I gotta get to the landing pad. One of the merchants’ ships went AWOL.” Grogu lifted his half finished snack and you cooed at him in response. Peli begun to rush away once more, no further information given, but paused to glare over her shoulder at the droid that lingered by the pram. “Come on, you idiot!”

 The droid jumped in alarm before sprinting after her. You chuckled in amusement before reaching down to scoop up Grogu who had lifted one hand in request. Once settled in your arms, he held the stick of roasted meat up to your mouth to share. You took a small bite from the opposite end then thanked him profusely to which he squealed in delight.

 “Plus, now Mayfeld will be busy with whatever the kriff is going on at the landing pad.” Karga raised an eyebrow.

 Mando hesitated and his gaze drifted over to you which caught you off guard. You bounced Grogu lightly in your arms, making him giggle, then gave Mando a reassuring smile. “If you really need to go I can keep an eye on Grogu. We’ll explore the market some more.”

 He held your gaze a second more before turning to Karga. “What’s the nature of the complaint?”

 “Non-violent.” The Magistrate shrugged. “They think someone’s been breaking in and stealing their things. Some items have been going missing. Very much a tomorrow problem, but they’re insistent that it be solved today.” Karga held a hand over his chest. “As an old friend, I would love for you to help me keep the best droid repair mechanics in the Outer Rim happy.”

 “Fine.” Mando sighed. “We’ll go see them.”

 “Yes! Thank you, Mando!”

 You raised your eyebrows in surprise, “We?”

 Mando had one hand resting on his belt as he tilted his head toward you. There was something about his posture that screamed ‘sheepish’ to you. “If you don’t mind tagging along. I did want to show you around the market eventually, but I know this is a lousy day off for you.”

 You let out a small laugh, “It’d be my honor to tag along, Marshal.” The sheepish energy you initially got from him disappeared as he gave you a slight nod. You both threw back quick good-byes to the Magistrate, and you added that it had been nice to meet him before following Mando down a different street. “Me tagging along. Does this mean I’m a Deputy today? Because if so, I’d like a badge.”

 “I’ll work on that for you.” Mando chuckled.

 On the list of things you thought you’d get to witness today, you didn’t think seeing Mando’s large frame crawl into a Anzellan garage would be one. He may have thought this was turning out to be a lousy day off, but you were truly entertained watching him sit curled up, seated with his legs crossed, while arguing with the head droid repair tech of the garage. When you all arrived to the garage, the Anzellans had insisted that the Marshal step into their office to discuss the matters at hand. Their office being a tiny crawl space that fit multiple working Anzellans with ease.

 You had been invited in as well, but it was much more fun to watch from the entrance of the garage where you knelt with Grogu.

 “I don’t understand.” Mando let out an irritable sigh. “Do you speak Huttese?”

 “Ransack. Ransack!” The Anzallen standing across from him groaned in a squeaky voice. He continued on in his own language before belting the word out once more. “Ransack!”

 “Who? Who do you think is ransacking your garage?” Mando pressed.

 You bit down on your lips to keep back a chuckle. You glanced down to share the amusement with Grogu only to realize the little green guy had wandered off. Eyes blown with panic, the sound of his nearby cooing reassured you quickly. Grogu had stepped away from you to wander into the garage toward the pack of Anzallens. “Oh no.” You hissed quietly and reached out to him. “Grogu. Come here. Your buir is working.”

 Grogu ignored you with the complacency only a toddler could have and crawled onto the table. He was only there for half a second before he wrapped his arms around the Anzellen who had been struggling to communicate with his father.

 “No, Grogu.” You blurted as the Anzellan hollered.

 The child cuddled to the man who was about the size of his stuffed frog. At least he wasn’t trying to eat him, you supposed. “No, no, no, no, no!” The Anzellen bellowed. “No squeezie, not squeeze! Not squeeze!”

 “Grogu. K’olar!” Mando reached out to the kid. “Sorry, he’s young.”

 “Bad baby!” The Anzellan replied. You crawled into the space to grab him, but he took a step out of your reach. Mando held his arm out to keep Grogu from waddling away any farther and herded him into your direction. When he was close enough, you scooped up the green, giggling gremlin and tried to detangle his arms from around the Anzellan. When the droid repair tech broke free he hurried away, still repeating the same phrases. “Oh, bad baby.”

 You had kept most of your laughter in control, but when your gaze met Mando to see him already staring at you the dam broke and a laugh slipped from your lips. Quickly, you crawled out of the garage before you could really lose control and once out you stood to let all your amusement out. Grogu joined in happily, and you bounced him in your arms.

 “No wonder your buir calls you a womp rat.” You laughed.

 A minute later you watched the Marshal, esteemed Mandalorian, decorated in rare beskar sacred to his people and sought after over the universe, crawl out of the garage. You were leaning against the wall with his son in your arms, and the moment he was able to rise fully to his feet another laugh spluttered from your lips. Mando set his hands on his hips as he stared at you, and you shook your head. “I’m sorry, but between watching your son cuddle a droid tech and you crawl out of a hole, I didn’t stand a chance at keeping a straight face.”

 “Uh huh.” Mando stepped closer and held his arms out for Grogu. “I hate to break the news to you, but you’re fired as my Deputy.”

 “Drat.” You snapped your fingers with a wide grin.

 Mando turned his attention to his son, “And you. What have we discussed about cuddling people against their will, ad’ika?” Grogu made a humming noise that suspiciously sounded like ‘I don’t know’. Then he held his hands up to his father’s helmet with his face drawn in innocence. “Uh huh. Nuh’la.”

 “Did you save the day, Marshal?” You asked.

 Mando looked back up to you. “I did. No thanks to my two deputies.” You laughed. Mando kept Grogu in his arms as the two of you walked back toward the market. The pram followed behind you. “I promised them we’d add their garage to our evening route when we’re walking the city.”

 “Mmm.” You held your hands behind your back and shot him a grin. “It’s nice to see Nevarro’s security in action. I feel safer already.”

 “Happy to be of service.” Mando replied with a breathy laugh.

 You reached out to tickle Grogu’s belly as you walked. “Speaking of service, I’m still waiting for that tour, Marshal.”

 “Of course.” Mando nodded. “I think I owe you lunch now as well.”

 At the word lunch, Grogu began to babble in excitement. If any other job you worked had you technically working on your day off and specifically spending it with your employer you’d consider it an absolute nightmare. However, this day had only grown more and more enjoyable, and laughing with Mando had knocked off the last bit of awkward chill you had felt overall. Watching him crawl out of a hole had probably helped.

A/N: Do you guys want translations to the Mando’a used? At first I wasn’t going to b/c then as you read you’re just as clueless as the reader on what’s being said, but I know personally I’m too nosy to not know lol. I’ll give translations this time below--

Cyar'ika: darling, sweetheart

K'olar: Come here

Nuh'la: Funny

[imagination-mess]

The Former Reject Demon (Demon!Touya) (1/6)

This is an alternative universe where demons can be familiar to witches or wizards to assist and, most of all, as protectors. Witches and wizards can create pacts with demons.

Preciously: Demon! Katsuki Bakugou

Word Count: 1.0K+ (1/6)

A/N: Tumblr has a limit on how much you can put in singular post. I was forced to put it into six different posts. If you wish to see a singular post about it, here is the link to Ao3.

Kind of came out like outline of events, 😬 It's essentially word vomit about this Au. It's been consuming my mind. 

Warnings: Demon Discrimination, Blood, Violence, Manga Spoiler of Touya's powers

Demon!Touya Todoroki

His summoning wasn't what you would consider the traditional way of summoning. It would usually take place at an academy of witches to coven, where there is supervision to prevent anything from going wrong. There are a few factors involved in which his summoning should have been impossible unless two conditions were met.

A Life-and-Death summoning occurs when both the witch and the demon are on the brink of death.

When he was 14 years old, it was determined that Touya was unfit due to having such a fragile body to handle his powers. When he failed the routine medical examination that all demons have to go through at that age, He wouldn't be able to do his job effectively as a demon familiar to a witch.

The Demon Council's decision automatically disqualified him from participation and prohibited him from attending the bi-annual summoning at any of Hell's locations. He will be electrocuted if he tries to enter one of those buildings. 

His father, who went by the name Endeavor, also supported the decision made by the council. He is also on the council along with the older demons.

It destroyed Touya even more. Endeavor has already shown his distaste for seeing him train his body to handle his power. Touya wanted to prove his worth to him. He isn't a failure. 

He did try to hide and run away, but was eventually dragged back to be marked and cursed against his will. His body was branded by the council, which showed he was rejected in society. The branding should have prevented him from ever being summoned. His wings were clipped and cursed to prevent him from ever flying again. It is an extremely painful experience. He did fight back as much as he could. He is considered to be a baby compared to these hundreds-year-old demons. He never did return to the mansion that he grew up in, along with disappearing from the area. 

The branding is worse than death itself. It declares him a failure as a demon within society. He is considered to be beneath even the weakest of demons. His once-prestigious status plummeted to the bottom of the food chain. His status is now lower than that of demons, with no significant power at all. The branding acts as a stamp, marking him as an outcast. A reject who failed to meet the requirements of a demon.

It impacted Touya's self-esteem greatly. His horns on his head shatter into pieces within a month, which is a clear indication of a demon's self-esteem. They were once semi-healthy and smaller than they were supposed to be.

Touya started facing the real danger outside of his privileged life. He learned pretty quickly that he was very fortunate to have been raised to not worry about what lurks in the shadows and the constant bodyguard that his father assigned to each of his children. He had to learn how to survive and defend himself, which led him to learn how to steal in order to survive in hell. It was a dog-eat-dog world.

He also learned to not be in the same area too long; otherwise, he will be taken to those hellhouses that act like havens for orphans and raise them until they are able to get out of hell. He has seen a lot of runaways get taken to those places. Depending on the area, those Hellhouses are nightmares to live in supposedly. You have to earn your bed privileges and food. Touya would much rather take his risk out in the streets than in a place where he is constantly being watched. He knows he will have it worse for being a reject at such a young age. 

He has seen and experienced the treatment Reject Demon receives in hell. It's not pleasant. The constant looking over your shoulder. Other demons hunt reject demons just for shit and giggles. No one bats an eye to it, since reject demons are looked down upon.

Touya has never stopped training his body and power. He continued, but less frequently than he had before. He was more worried about getting the next meal one way or another than finding a place to sleep the night. He practically uses his flames in the daily basics just to defend himself from other demons. Not all demons are immune to fire. 

However, at the age of 16, he has major burn scars throughout his arms, among the scars of claws on his body from fighting constantly to survive. He often fought with other demons around his age, especially older demons who didn't have good intentions in mind. 

His horns have grown back smaller than their normal size, but with visible cracks on them. He has grown immune to the states due to the sad sight of his wings and the state of his body. There is no point in trying to hide his branding when his wings are a dead giveaway. 

He never did see his face in the center of the cities on the pinboards. His father never put up a missing poster of him, which showed Touya that he didn't care about him. Unknowingly, there are demons who are taking them down because of their hatred towards the Demon Council member, Endeavor. He looked a lot different when he was 13 years old; he has visible burnt skin. 

Touya has stolen a lot to make a living and made deals with sketchy people, which ends up backfiring on him. He was hunted down like an animal when he stole from the wrong person. It was the worst kind of demon who liked to torture and hunt demons just for the thrill of it. He did try to run as fast as he could. He didn't have functional wings to fly away, eventually being cornered at a dead end, which is how he ended up in this situation. 

Being choked to death, despite burning the demon that was choking him against the dirt. It became apparent that the demon above him was somewhat immune to flames when the demon started laughing at him and mocking him. He couldn't breathe, but it didn't stop him from increasing the fire as he clawed at the older demon. The demon had a haunting smile on his lips and was looking down at him. The demon was clearly enjoying this, despite blood running down their skin due to his flamed, sharp nails digging into the man's face. 

He wanted to live... 

NEXT PART (2/6)

[fineghkst]

Rules

please let me know if you find any mistakes

tags: forbidden love; mentions of arranged marriage; angst; enemies to lovers

He was sitting on the armchair while reading a book. The perfect aligned hair was now messy, and he let four buttons of his shirt open, exposing his chest to the moonlight that entered the room through the window. Emanating a tranquillity that did not exist beyond those walls. It was the only moment he left all responsibilities behind.

He has so beautiful, almost looking vulnerable, but you knew all Vanserra’s were lethal like daggers. Eris was like a fallen angel right in front of your eyes.

It was rare to see Eris Vanserra without the mask of Beron’s son. During your short meetings, Eris was just a fae without titles and obligations. And so we’re you. It was all pretending, creating your own universe, like a parallel timeline where you two could stay together.

Out of that little world, he was your enemy.

You stared at him, seeing his focussed look in the book. His chest going up and down while he was breathing.

Gods, you were in love with him.

— Little Fox — Eris said almost purring that pet name he gave you, without taking his eyes from the book — I already told you to stop undressing me with your eyes while I’m distracted.

He closed the book, putting on the small desk beside. Eris gave you a penetrating look, making you blush. He got up, walking to your direction.

— You can simply undress me if you want me. — He stopped in front of you, making you look up because of the height difference.

You approached him, embracing your arms around his neck. He smiled before leaning in to kiss you. It didn’t took long for the kiss to get more desperate. Eris had his hands on your waist, squeezing it and bringing you the closer he could.

Eris showed how much he missed you, how he craved for you. How he wish that little word were expanded, turning into real life.

He left small bites on your lips before breaking the kiss, leaving both of you breathless.

— Fuck, I hate this. I hate to wait so long to be with you. I hate to pretend I fucking despise you. — Eris said, leaning his forehead on yours — It’s turning impossible. I can’t act like this with the person I love, the person I want to build a future with.

— I know, Eris — You could feel his sadness. Even if he wanted a future by his side, it was impossible when your families hated each other for centuries.

That relationship was supposed to have an expiration date. The agreement had one rule: no feelings. Just a fast experience to finally put an end at the tension between you two.

Years have passed and you still together, except it wasn’t a agreement anymore. The only rule has been broken a long time ago.

Eris was the first to admit he was in love. He wanted to runaway with you, dropping all the responsibility that was thrown on his back and freeing you from yours. He had constructed a detailed plan, you just had to say yes. If you said yes Eris would make sure both of you were never seen again.

That was the first and last time you saw him beg.

Even if it hurt, even if it broke your heart into thousands of pieces, making it impossible to rebuild it again, you denied. You denied him, breaking his heart.

How could you leave your family behind? There was to many people counting on you. After all, heir expectations were created long before you were born.

That was too much to bare, seeing him slowly destroying himself because of what was supposed to be a simple agreement. You thought it would be better to stay away from him, ending everything, so you created a new rule: staying away from Eris.

Soon you found out that a rule imposed on itself could cause the worst type of pain.

That world that only existed for you two was completely shattered. You and Eris were living now in a grey world, painted with sad eyes covered by hatred looks and apology requests suffocated by public offenses. None of you could live in a reality were you’re only enemies.

After months, both of you couldn’t take that distance anymore, so you broke the rule for him. Again.

You and Eris were condemned, condemned to a vortex of destruction. You knew that fake world was restricted by walls, and soon enough, he would be completely destroyed again. Permanently.

— Don’t marry him — He whispered, afraid if he said that worlds out loud the engagement would turn real.

— I don’t have a choice.

— Of course you do. I’m giving you a choice right now. — He caressed your face, gently — We don’t need to runaway. Just marry me.

— Eris… — You stepped back, chocked to hear that request — You know we can’t. Our families would never approve.

— I know. But we don’t need their approval if they only found out after we are married.

— Your father will never forgive you, neither my family.

— I don’t care. — He said, moving away from you. The anger had dominated his face — Your family wants to give you on a platter to a stranger because of a stupid alliance. My father, on the other hand, never thought twice before torturing me, his own son. I’m tired of pretending to be someone I’m not. Tired of being terrorized by him.

— That’s insane. — You said — What we are supposed to do? Get married in secret and then face everyone after?

— I will fucking burn this entire world if I have to. I will destroy all of them, my Little Fox. I promise that to you. — His eyes were stuck in you, allowing you to see all the pain, all the suffering and despair he felt. Eris would really sacrifice everything, fight with the whole fucking world only to have you by his side.

— You understand that you want to risk losing everything? Including having a crown on your head, even after preparing your whole life to assume the throne? — You said and he laugh like it was the funniest joke — What’s so funny?

— Can’t you understand? No crown will be as valuable as you. I’m willing to risk everything, because if I lose you, then I'll be losing everything that matters to me. — Eris approached you again, holding your hands and looking inside your eyes — Please… just say yes. Say yes to me and I will destroy all their rules and impositions to which they restricted us. Say yes, my Little Fox, and I promise to love you until my last breath.

Your heart was beating so fast that it seemed it would fly from your chest at any moment. Eris was standing before you, begging to finally be accept. He waited years and would wait for centuries if necessary, but you couldn’t allow him to torture himself anymore.

It was probably the biggest mistake you ever committed, starting that agreement, then loving your enemy. Possibly, a deep lapse of sanity, but you couldn’t endure blindly obeying the laws imposed by your family anymore. They lived their lives, created their own wars, but now it was time for you to finally free yourself from all ties.

It was as if your lips had acquired life of its own when the three letters came out of your vocal cords to the outside word, making the walls of that little universe you made explode.

— Yes.

[shadowofahope]

Possibilities

Warnings: a/b/o dynamics, aggressive alpha tendencies, swearing, near-death experiences, mentions of heat and suppressants

Pairing: Nonidol!Changbin/Nonidol!Minho x Reader

Premise: Omega Primes were rare, being forced to reproduce with other Primes. You never liked the idea of mates, forced or not. A runaway Prime, with two alphas to catch their fall and open up a whole new realm of possibilities.

Author’s notes: Soooo, I'm like secretly/not so secretly obsessed with both of these men right now. When I had originally written this I had no plans to post it, but here we are. Months later with the inability to let it go. I hope you enjoy it regardless! This was definitely written purely for me and my soulmate @jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue to drool over💜

Word count: 8.8K

masterlist

“Chan when I say, hold your breath grab Felix and run. Don’t stop until you have Felix safe.” Chan nods to you, he might now know exactly what your plan was but he knew as well as you did that you both had to get Felix out of there. 

“What are you thinking y/n? We can’t leave you here.” Felix huffs, his breath getting harder to release from his lungs. Chan holds him up, arm under his shoulder keeping him close.

“I’ll be fine Lixie, I’ll catch up Yea?” You give him a reassuring smile, followed by a wink. Focus still on the hoard of Alphas that had unfortunately followed Felix on his attempt to escape.

“Y/n-“

“Now chan!”

You hear him inhale deeply before he’s holding it, grabbing Felix hand and see them dart forward. Heading towards the exit from the roof.

In an instant you release your pheromones. Inducing your own heat.

All alphas that had followed Felix up to the roof had now turned on you. Now forgetting about the preheat omega.

Releasing a ragged breath, lungs thick with hot air. It’s like you can feel every bone in your body, every inch of your skin triggered by electricity. Your clothes feel itchy against your heated flesh. 

You barely register the door reopening, this time without the receding Alpha and Omega, but in a mere blink 2 new alphas had joined the swarm. You’d roll your eyes if you could. 

Fucking Alphas.

It’s only a matter of time before one of them advances on you, in any attempt to pounce and take you. Take you as the others join in. A shiver of disgust runs down your spine. The saliva in your mouth is feeling too much now. 

You take a step back on sinking legs. Taking a distracted moment to peer behind you. 10 stories, you could make that…well uninjured wasn’t likely but at least you would be away. You’d need at least a few hours to be able to reel in your heat. Your foggy mind reminds you to stay focused on the alphas in front of you, which would normally be your most pressing issue however in your escape-deciding thoughts the two new alphas that have joined late are now directly standing in front of you. 

And they’re snarling in the direction of the swarm. That’s when your muddled senses detect it. Like freshly baked bread on a cold day, with a hint of something sweet. Aired out bed linen left outside on a warm day, something toasted dances within it. The scents fused together, getting stronger and stronger by the second.

Your eyes adjust briefly, Minho and Changbin stand off against the triggered alphas. 

“Well that’s new” You manage to mumble. As you watch them snarl and defend you. If you were in another state, you’d say you were impressed. Maybe your scent was just really repulsive to them? If you could remember, you’d ask later.

You fight through the Omega need to find an Alpha to satiate your rising hunger, pulling out all of your Prime strength you can. If there was ever a time to be thankful for being a prime it would be now. 

Even if the two could fight through the mass, too many people would be hurt.

Your spine straightens, eyes flashing to Prime, voice taken over.

“ALPHA.” Your Prime voice makes everyone halt. The alpha voice might be a terrifying weapon for alphas to use against omegas, but they had no idea what the Prime voice could be capable of. “DOWN.”

Your command is taken instantaneously, the swarm of alphas on the roof all drop to their knees. Their bodies shake with their inability to control themselves. 

“LOWER.” the voice growled from you. On their knees, hands and chest to the roof the alphas went in unisent. 

All except two alphas. They continue to stand vigilant. Which once again, if you remember you’d ask them about that.

You know you can’t hold it for long. Your body almost giving into the full heat you’ve thrown yourself into. 

Speaking of throw, without another thought you feel your control snap. Simultaneously as you throw yourself over the railing plummeting down to the concrete below. 

The last thing you hear is the voices of the two alphas above scream your name, as your feet slam into the ground.

----

“Most primes are protected. Then there’s you, inducing your own heat and then throwing herself off 10 story buildings.” Your specialist doctor chastises as he finishes taking your vitals for the day..

“You’d be bored if I was like regular primes.” You jest. He shakes his head, but doesn’t look at you. It's the same old song and dance with you two.

“If your family-”

“If my family cared, I’d have a legion of guards to protect me. But they don't, so I take care of myself.” You finish for him, he finally looks at you. Eyes pleading as always.

“A broken leg is taking care of yourself?” He gestures towards your very large cast, covering from your foot to your mid thigh.

“I didn’t say I was the best at it, did I?” You give him your best fake sincere smile.

“Fine. But could you atleast think about finding someone to bond with?” His sigh of defeat sends an itch over your skin. “I don’t care if it isn’t an omega, hell it could be an Alpha or even a Beta. But atleast that would be some form of safety net for you.”

You don’t answer. You never do. For as long as you’ve been alive you’ve been told you had to mate with another Omega Prime, keep the family line strong. But you cut ties with your family long ago and couldn’t find it within yourself to feel comfortable with the idea of a mate. 

“I worry about you.” He goes back to packing up his things, keeping his back to you. 

“I know.” It’s all you can manage.

You hear him sigh loudly again as he makes his way around the room, hesitating by the door.

“Hey doc.” You call as his hand is on the door knob. “Thanks.” 

You had a lot to thank him for. Not just this time, but continuing to look after you when you left the Prime courts. He could have easily walked away from all your ridiculous behaviour and you wouldn't have falted him for it, but he chose to push on being your doctor. Helping you in any shape and form you needed. 

“I’ll see you soon.” He smiles at you before opening it. “Hello Felix, are you feeling better?”

“Yes Doctor, a lot better. Is she awake?” You hear the fake light tone from the hallway. 

Ah shit.

“Yes she is.” You look away, you weren’t ready to apologize for what you did. You did what you thought was right. 

You listen as he enters. Shuffling as the door closes.Theres a moment of silence before he speaks.

“You said you’d catch up.” Felix sniffles from the end of your hospital bed, you look at him. 

“And I did.” You try to lighten.

“A broken leg wasn’t part of the deal.” His angry eyes bore into you. “You could have been really hurt.”

“I know, I’m sorry. But I’m alright.” You motion for him to come closer, shifting slightly to give him enough space to climb on the bed with you. When he snuggles in you feel his body relax. “Just a little sore. Nothing to worry about. I’m just glad you’re safe.” 

----

A few days in the infirmary felt like years with the amount of boredom you were in. The only highlight was Felix joining you when he had some down time. 

Another day of Felix fussing over you, running back and forth to make sure you had food and liquids and you weren’t in pain. Eventually he settled down to eat with you, your conversations turning back to that day.

“I was terrified when the Hyungs passed us on the stairs. Chan tried to yell at them not to, but it was too late.” You can see the crease between his eyebrows as he thought about it. “I really thought they’d become like the others. But now I’m so glad they were there.”

You don’t say anything, your memories coming back are fuzzy. A drowsy flash of two alphas snarling in defense, rage and protectiveness aimed at keeping you safe. 

“I knew Changbin and Minho have really good control over their instincts, but that? I really am impressed.” He chuffs, proud of his older members for keeping themselves in check. 

In a cloud you remember their backs, the muscles tight with Alpha stances on full display. But…. Had you managed to direct your Prime voice to only the lost alphas? In a normal circumstance you wouldn’t second guess it. However, inducing your own heat had made it almost impossible to differentiate one alpha from another. The musky clouds of Alphas making your stomach feel like it was made of cement, your Omega instincts could still smell the two. 

Wait, have you ever really smelled them before? It was them wasn’t it? You don’t go around smelling others for the reason that most scents are slightly nauseating. So with your Prime abilities you forced your Omega instincts down. But did that really mean you just never noticed that you completely ignored others scents?

Glancing over at felix you let out a hesitant sniff, a citrus burst with a dash of caramel. Ok, you could smell him, he smells like he always does. So why did you….

“What do Changmin and Minho smell like?” 

You watch him pause, taking in your words. He looks up at you visibly confused.

“You’ve never noticed?” There sounds like there’s something hidden in his voice, something you aren’t sure what it is.

“I guess not.” You contemplate. “I think I smelt them on the roof, but I don’t think I’ve ever actually paid attention to it before.” 

“Ah, well they have kind of off putting pheromones.” Felix gently tries to explain. 

“Off putting?” That does shock you. What you smelt on the roof was nothing like that.

“Yea, um.” An awkward cough escapes him. “Minho Hyung kind of smells like… pure sugar? Too sugary, sickly sweet? If that makes sense. And Changbin Hyung smells…well…. burnt.”

You think back to the scents from before, letting your senses reimagine them. The comforting pheromones filling your lungs, even now makes your brain go cloudy. Was it them you had smelt then, or was it different Alphas in the throng of chaos. 

“They both take some special suppressants to kind of dampen them, but I try not to breathe too deeply around them. It’s not as uncomfortable as it used to be, but you can still smell it.” 

“Huh….” 

“Was it them?” His question is genuine. “It would make sense for them to be emitting really strong pheromones during all that.”

“I’m not sure.” You shrug, you don’t need the younger omega to worry about anything else right now. “It’s ok, I’ll just sniff them later.”

“Well don’t forget that I warned you.” He laughs off your words. Back to eating the homemade food he brought with him.

A hint of warm baked bread dances on the food. Which seems odd because Felix didn’t bring any.

----

The next day you had another visit from your doctor, he checked your leg and vitals, making sure your heat was down before agreeing to sign your release papers.

“I’m only agreeing to this because if I don’t you’re only going to make it worse for all of us.” He exclaims. You could tell he was tired. He was extremely busy. Being a Beta and scent deaf meant he could treat all subgenders without any issue of pheromones getting in his way. It was one of the reasons he had stayed with you since you were a kid. It’s why he even became a doctor. “However, I have arranged for you to be looked after while you finish healing.”

“Is that really necessary?” You whine, shifting yourself to the side of the bed, carefully bringing both feet to hang down. 

“Yes.” 

Ok, no room for debate clearly. You silently sat there as he collected himself, coming over to stand in front of you. Without realizing it you were already pouting.

“Just….please. Heal first, cause mayhem later.” 

You nod, pout still there. “But who-” 

The door swings open and your eyes sparkle. 

“Ready to go?” Felix asks from the door, the bubbliest smile on his face, a large duffle bag in his hands.

“Really?” The giddiness almost taking over. 

Felix was always so busy with his group, you and he barely had time to spend together. So to have him being the one to take care of you, you are excited to say the least. 

Your doctor rolls his eyes at you, “Let’s get you home.”

----

Having Felix as your temporary caretaker was probably the best 2 weeks you’ve had. 4 more weeks of Felix and you having movie nights, letting yourselves indulge in more Omega oriented activities. By that you meant creating one big nest for the two of you to sleep in together. Your bed wasn’t big enough to create the perfectly comfy nest to happily tingle your omega needs, so you two had chosen to make it in the living room under your large sky light. Pushing your couch back slightly to make room. He had brought all of the bedding and blankets and pillows he owned to yours, and you had instructed him where you kept the thick comfy quilts. 

You hadn’t made a proper nest in a long while, and as comfy as it was, as perfect as it was…something was missing. You just couldn’t explain what, so you didn’t mention anything. It really wasn't necessary. 

Felix did an amazing job helping you in your mundane everyday tasks. Honestly, it had never been so much fun. But a foreboding was approaching; Felix’s heat cycle was shorter than others. So within the next week he would be slipping and he wouldn’t be able to look after you and you sure as hell wouldn’t be able to do anything for him. 

He had asked if he could take half of his things and half of yours with him when he was away for that week. Him saying your omega scent would help ease the time. Of course you agreed wholeheartedly. You offered him every piece of fabric that smelt like you that could be moved. 

You had been able to get around with crutches now, but some things were still difficult. Simple things felt derailingly exhausting, without completing things you’d need a 2 hour nap to recuperate. On the day his pre-heat began he let you know that someone would be by to check up on you later in the day. Leaving you with breakfast and a half nest. You had hugged and bid goodbye. Your now vibrant apartment now stark and boring. You sigh to yourself, annoyed with your already darker demeanor. 

Giving up you climb back into the half made nest, too tired to fix it. The scent of citrus barely there. You push away your thoughts as you fall into a light slumber.

—

Your sleep groggy mind reacts before your body. You feel too heavy to move, sleep threatening to pull you back in. Was someone baking a pastry? If they were, it smelt delicious, you hoped they would save you some. You rolled slightly, to alleviate the pressure you were putting on your cast, you must have curled oddly in your sleep. A wave of clean bedding wafted over you. Did someone bring you some new things for your nest? That was nice of them. 

You compelled your eyes to open, on your back staring up into the sky light. Too much sun beaming down on your face causes you to outwardly groan, rotating to prop yourself up eyes adjusting to your apartment again. 

You watch the figure in the kitchen, wearing your apron tied snuggly around his waist, shuffle back and forth, chopping and then back to something on the stove. You drag yourself with your hands and good leg onto your couch to observe them better. His light brown hair, catching in the sunlight, almost dances a copper tone. His feline features once and a while angled better for you to catch glimpses of his concentration. Contentedly you watch him, sitting silently as he doesn’t realize you’re awake. 

That is, until the itch to know becomes too unbearable.

“Lixie says you and Bin take pheromone suppressants.” It's not a question. You watch him halt his movements, but only for a split second then resuming his cooking.

“Yes.” His voice is relatively mellow. At least he doesn’t seem annoyed talking about it. So far.

You hear the bathroom door open from the hall, heavy footsteps coming into the main area. 

“You’re awake” Changbin smiles at you. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired. I’m bored of being tired.” You explain away. “How can you both need them? I was surprised when he told me. Especially when I thought I smelt you both on the roof that day.”

Changbins weary look is directed at his hyung, he had no idea what you were talking about. 

“The suppressants work well.” Minho continues working. “You would know if you smelt us.”

“Burnt and sickly sweet right?” You recall what Felix said that day.

“Yes.” Minho answers again, this time looking at Changbin he nods sheepishly. Almost looking disgusted with himself. 

“Can I smell you?” 

“What?” Changbins head shoots up to look at you. 

“You want to smell us?” Minho, finally forgoes the cooking to fully face you. 

“Haven’t you smelt us before?” Changbin tries to deflect.

“Maybe, but I’ve never noticed anything… ‘offensive’ coming from you two.” You explain. “So I want to check for myself.”

They exchange panicked expressions. 

“You don’t have to, but I would like to.” Your petulant pout adorned on your face.

Eventually Changbin speaks up, “We, uh don't mind. We’re just worried about you.”

“I promise I will not throw up.” You chuckled at them. 

“Ok but don’t say we didn’t warn you.” Minho shakes his head in disbelief.

They cautiously make their way around the couch, coming to stand in front of you. 

“Who first?” You exclaim cheerfully. Once again they exchange weary looks then roll their eyes at your nonchalant attitude of this impending wave of disgust to hit you. 

“Me.” Minho kneels on the floor, making it easy to get close enough to his scent gland without causing you too much physical strain. You shift forward, leaning into his neck making sure not to make any contact. You give a hesitant sniff, the suppressants they are on must be really strong. You inch closer, taking a deep inhale. 

The smell hits you instantly. You keep a straight face.

“Changbin.” 

By the gods you managed to get your voice out in a steady tone.

Changbin follows his hyungs position, Minho now standing to observe. 

This time knowing how close you needed to be to actually smell their pheromones, you move right away. Leaning in and taking a second deep inhale of the night. 

Your face blanks, as they now stand together waiting for your definite repulsion. You take a moment, not able to see the look of dejection on their face. 

“Well…It was undeniably you two that I smelt on the roof.” You finally manage. “But I need to ask you both something. When I used my Prime voice on the alphas, and when you came in contact with my heat pheromones, what was running through your minds?” 

They looked at you quizzically, “we…our instincts wanted to protect you. That’s what we were thinking.. Well we weren’t actually. Our alpha instincts took over.”

“As for the voice… I don’t know how to explain how we felt but… it was like if someone didn’t obey it we would make them? Almost giddy, I guess.” 

An airy laugh leaves you. “That’s new. How many more surprises are there gonna be with you two?”

“What-? Our scents?” Changbin redirects back to their previous worry.

“I’m glad you guys take suppressants, because you have the most delicious pheromones I’ve ever smelt in my life.” 

“Did the doctor check to see if you hit your head?”

“Ok, rude.” You huff. “I am never giving you a compliment ever again.”

“You’re sure it was us?” Changbin points between them.

“Yea. 1000%, like a puff pastry with powdered sugar on top and toasted chestnuts in the  morning wrapped in clean linen.” You pout, body slouched back on the couch angrily.

“We’ve never heard those before.” 

“Well, I'm sorry to burst your gross bubble, but you two don’t smell gross.” Shrugging them off you turn your attention to a new curiosity. “What’s for lunch?” 

----

Over the next few days none of you bring up the pheromone conversation again, nor do you bring up their reactions to your Omega. It does however continue to remain an inquiry for you. You wait patiently for today to finally ask someone about it. Cast changing day. 

You let your doctor remove your cast, asking you pain questions and general health ones. As he is casting the new one you finally let yourself ask.

“What would it mean if an alpha didn’t respond to an Omega Prime voice?” The nonchalance in your voice is clear. 

“That would depend, was it intentionally directed to avoid them or was it an all for one?” Keeping his eyes trained down, his hands don’t stop moving, wrapping the bands around your calf.

You let yourself think over the situation before answering.“Since it couldn’t have been properly controlled, let’s say all for one.”

“Well…..”

“Hm.” You contemplate his words. “And what if an alphas' instinct was to protect instead of mount, with an omega in heat?”

“Please don’t say mount.” He grimaced, eyes still down but hands pausing briefly to show his dislike even more than with just his face.

“Aright, instead of ‘try to take by force’.” You stifle your laugh, but continue in your questioning. 

“It would suggest…..”

“Uh huh.” You struggled to take in his answers, but the gist of it wasn’t lost on you. “Last question, what if an alphas pheromones and natural scent was repulsive to everyone around then except one omega, to that omega they smelt really good. What would that suggest?” 

“Why are you so weird today?” He stands to examine your face, finally looking at you. He knew something was going on, it’s not like you were hiding it.

“More than normal?” You give an over exaggerated grin. 

He stares at you blankly for a moment, like he’s considering letting you feign ignorance or pushing you for information. Luckily he doesn’t take too long to decide, he already knows if you’re going to tell him you will. 

“No.” Is his final answer. “It would most likely mean…..”

“Ah.” You flomp back on the mattress, eyes now trained to the ceiling. Your face scrunches up in annoyance as you piece the puzzle together. A puzzle you never asked to have to deal with. You didn’t like complicated things like this, you preferred simple and easy to push along.

“What is this all about?” He sounds worried, he was always worried.

“I think I may have found….”

----

The mindless boredom you had begun to feel while stuck at home, was starting to give you an anxious itch. If you were right about it, and the information your doctor told you did in fact back that up, it would be a time if the boys found out. 

So you kept quiet, no issues if you didn’t bring it up. Clearly they thought differently.

“We think something is going on.” Changbin announces from your kitchen. They had come over together to help you complete some work and make you dinner. Felix had something come up and they had volunteered. 

“Well I’m hoping it’s not something bad with my food.” You nonchalantly throw over your shoulder, fingers typing away on your laptop from the couch. 

Your nest still a mess on the floor. Felix had offered to fix it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to let him. Something was still missing.

“With the three of us.” Minho finishes. AH, so they noticed something. Your hands still, recline back arm over the back of the couch, you lounge out. 

“And what exactly is happening?” You inquire, body calm, mind ready to receive any information they might have dug up.

They gave each other a mild once over before exchanging a nod. Approaching you with hesitant energy but sure steps. You could smell them stronger than normal today, maybe that was because they were nervous? Or maybe because your Omega was trying to smell them out? Either way, you ignored it.

“We’ve done some research.” Minho supplies. “About you not finding our smells repulsing.” 

“The only things we could find are research papers on the idea of the rarities of fated mates.” The words come out of changbin so fast you’re surprised you even understand it. 

“It’s a possibility that one of us could be your fated mate.” Minho simplifies. 

“Smart boys.” You chuckle. “Looks like we’ve come to the same conclusion then.”

They stare at you dumbfounded. 

“I was also curious about my Omega pheromones having certain effects on your alpha instincts.” You continue. “And it seems they have also indicated that. However, I’ll tell you both now. Just because it appears that way doesn’t mean I’m about to jump on either of you.” 

“We get that. We just want to make sure we're all on the same page with what this could possibly entail for us.” Minho confides, emphasizing their sincerity. These boys knew you well enough and what your view was on ‘mates’. 

You sigh heavily, how was the idea of the possibility of having a fated mate this exhausting? 

“And we want to be honest..” Changbin directs your attention. “We both have felt drawn to you. If this possibility was right and you felt something for one of us over the other, we’d be ok with that. But we also don't want you to feel like you have to do anything.”

You gave them a soft smile. “Thank you boys. If it had to possibly be anyone, I’m glad it was you two.” 

Upon some form of conclusion for the night, they helped you hobble over to the kitchen table to eat for the night. 

But there was still a lingering thought playing in the back of your mind that you couldn’t quite settle.

----

“A FATED PAIR?!” Felix screeched excitedly from the other end of your couch, flailing pillows and plushies toward you.

“The possibility of a fated pair.” You correct, dodging each oft blow with a giggle. You knew he would have an over the top reaction, which honestly was one of the reasons why you did want to tell him, but also you didn’t want to spend the evening answering his million questions.  

“But TWO?!” His excitement wasn't about to die down. “Holy shit. How are you going to choose?”

“Lix, I’m not going to choose.” You hush him, wanting to bring an end to this interrogation. “Listen, I won’t choose someone just because my omega wants me to. I need to actually like the person first. I need to know them.”

“It’s Changbin and Minho.” He reminds, giving you a pointed look.

“I know, but you and I both know how badly couples can end just because they go along with their sub genders needs. I’d rather be sure.” You recall past mutual friends of yours and how disastrous their situations turned out when they let their instincts fully take over. It had left the friend group shattered with no amount of apologizing and forgiveness could mend what had been hurt.

“So you are going to pick one of them?” He still pushes.

“I’m not saying yes and I’m not saying no.” You finish, huffing before mumbling to yourself. “We could still be wrong.”

----

Work had called you asking if you could come in, there was a specifically rude alpha writer that demanded the editors who worked on his last piece to be there. He had first come in requesting only Alphas to work on his writing. The manager had told him that they would do the best they could but they had limited Alphas available. The top editors in the firm were you, two other omegas, an alpha and a beta. However, that didn't seem to be good enough.

Apparently he had just realized that it was 3 omegas who had been credited for the editorial, even though the 3 of you had also worked on his previous project. To top it off he was also very into his hierarchy of the subgenders. 

Thankfully for you, you had just entered the free standing boot phase of your recovery. You hobbled into the firm, the receptionist welcoming you back, and warning you of what might be in the conference room. She also let you know a little piece of extra information about said writer. He was a dominant alpha male.

Upon entering the room you are enveloped with the intense heavy set musk of dominant pheromones. The need to vomit crept up on you, leaving a nasty taste in your mouth.

“Sorry for being late,” You respond normally, pretending not to notice the provoked alpha on the far side of the room. Not to mention, the two omega editors cowering in at the side table, looking meek and shaking in their chairs. “I’m still a little slow on my feet.” 

Your Alpha manager rushed over to you to help you alongside the others, the shallow tremble in him didn’t go unnoticed. “No worries, y/n we were just going over the issue.”

“Is there an issue?” You ask cheerfully. First you get a read on the hostile energy. The dominant alpha stands tall, smug expression on his face as he watches everyone in the room struggle to keep themselves together. 

“I would say there is, omega.” His voice instantly makes your brain itch, and not in a good way. Gross. Also his need to identify your sub gender to the room really tests your ability to hold your eyes from rolling. “I requested alpha editors to be a part of the project, not three omegas. I need my work to be looked over carefully and with exceptional skills. I am sure you three are adequate but I don’t like being kept in the dark about my own work.” 

You pretend to mull over his words, this man clearly needs others to bow down and grovel at his feet. 

What an unfortunate choice for him.

“As I recall your novel hit #1 on the charts for 4 weeks and it was completed before the deadline.” Your professionalism is on full display. “I am sorry if you do not feel that your work has been properly looked after. But our firm never promised for an alpha only team, just as you did not feel the need to read over the creditors before releasing. On all the paperwork you were given about the piece, our names and subgenders were clearly marked. You did not raise a complaint nor concern at the time.”

“So you’re saying that was my neglect then, Omega?” His vocal demeanor changes to a lower tone, rasping out as the room spikes with more pheromones. He evidently was trying to will you to submit, which once again was unfortunate. 

“Could you please not refer to me by my subgender, I do have a name.” You sigh, how annoying.

“You don’t like to be reminded that you are an Omega?” It almost comes out as a snarl at this point. This time you can’t stop from rolling your eyes. 

You push the rollie chair away from the table, turning to face him front on. You side glance over to you manager, then to the antagonistic male then back. Asking for permission, you could see him struggle to nod. The Dominant pheromones now getting to his inner alpha, his instincts fighting to not submit either. You look at your fellow omegas and they are truly a mess. Tears streaming down their faces, heads down, already submitted a time ago. 

“It’s not that I need a reminder. I am very well aware of what I am.” You stated coldly. “You, however, need to be educated.”

His sick chortle of a laugh fills the room. One you were more than happy to silence.

Your Prime voice ready to extinguish his joy.

“SIT.” 

He’s instantly on the ground, mid laugh causing him to choke. 

“CRAWL.” 

You watch him fight against his body, as he trembles onto hands and knees moving towards you. When he’s close enough for your amusement, you hear the omegas behind you stop crying. You can also hear your manager finally take a deep breath. 

“STOP.” 

He sits there on the dirty carpeted floor in his stupid looking designer suit at your feet. You stay seated, comfily reclined in your chair. 

“The only reason this firm worked on your piece in the first place was because it was a favour for your uncle. The amount of work that went into salvaging that piece of crap you spewed is ridiculous. Not to mention no other firm would work with you.” You reprimanded. “You should feel thankful that our manager agreed to it, thankful that you had two of the most professional and invaluable editors we have.”

“You are free to go to another firm, at this point we’d all be grateful if you did. I will remind you, Omega or not you have NO RIGHT to compromise another with your pheromones. It is against the law and we will not hesitate to file against you. Understood?” 

Your eyes glower at him with the intensity of a Prime, he nods sheepishly. 

“Now apologize to my coworkers and manager for wasting their time and disrespecting this firm.” 

His hurried words of begging for forgiveness meant nothing to you. You watched him collect himself and retreat out of the room. The omegas hugging you in thanks.

“I’m surprised you were able to hold off from that alpha. You made it look so easy.” They seemed mesmerized by you. 

“It was.” You stated confidently. “They're not my Alpha.”

----

“A horde of alphas isn’t enough for you? Now you’re tackling aggravated dominants?” Your doctor insisted on an omega specific checkup. Even for you, over exerting yourself while still healing could be dangerous.

“It was only one this time.” You mutter, back in his office once again. You swore you might as well live here with how often you keep showing up. The receptionists and cleaning man were all on a first name basis with you.

“Does your alpha know that you’re making dominants submit to you?” He muses from his desk, looking over your test results.

“My what?” You try to contain your shock, but then again he could read you pretty well. 

He gives you a ‘cmon really’ type of stare, “I’ve known you long enough to know you don’t ask questions unless they’re relevant and of interest. It’s easy enough to put two and two together.” He stands to place the blood pressure wrap around your arm. “So how does your alpha feel about it?”

“They’re thrilled.” You stone face, eyes locked on your arm.

“Really?” 

“Giddy even.” You pout defiantly. 

“I know it’s a touchy subject, but do you have any plans to mate with them?” You could hear the sincerity in his voice. You didn’t want to hide anything from him, if anything he would be the one to help you figure it all out. 

“I-There’s two.” You look up at him.

“Two?” He gives you a perplexed look, before lightly chuckling. “You definitely don’t make things easy.”

“Yea yea. I’m the definition of the perfect patient.” You roll your eyes, a smile breaking out on your lips.

“This might be an idea, but maybe you should test their scents against your heat?” He suggests, pulling the monitor away.

“...how would I do that?” 

“Well, your heat is coming up shortly so I would say to ask each of them for something to have with you during it. If your Omega reacts more to one scent then the other you know at least you know where part of you stands.” 

That could be a piece of the puzzle you could use.

----

A day out. You desperately needed a day out, especially with your heat approaching. Bless Felix for planning with everyone to finally get you out of the house. And like the bundle of sunshine he was, he decided it would be best to hit up all your favourite local pier. One that happened to be equipped with a few rides, bowling alleys, mini golfing courses and other small activities. 

Of course the first plan of attack was a couple of the rides, your boot and all slugging into mechanisms. The last one being a sort of enclosed type tilt-a-whirl, which to be fair did have some pretty steep drops. The line was a little longer for this one, so you all cued together. When you got to the front of the line you had just begun sorting into smaller groups.

“I’ll sit with Changbin and Minho” you volunteer, hand raising in the air. The two started to pack themselves into the enclosed bubble.

“Really?” Seungmin quips almost astounded that someone would want to. You roll your eyes, heading to follow them in.

“It’s groups of 3, and there’s 9 of us. Does anyone else want to be crammed in a tight space with them?” You challenge, the look of horror on their faces was more than enough as an answer. “Exactly.”

As you begin to enter the ride Minho holds his hand out for you, steadying you as you step over the gap. Changbin, waits for you to sit before closing the door behind you. 

“Are you sure y/n?” Changbin asks, settling himself across from you. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.” Your tone annoyed but strong. “I like your scents, even if there was someone else wanting to come in with you I’d still be here.” 

Minho turns away to try to hide the smile on his face, changbins sheepish smile is turned down to the floor. You couldn’t help admiring how cute they were. 

How did you not notice that before? ….. you knew, being one disappointment after another you had turned off and locked down your omega. Becoming unable to view anyone as anything more than a friend. It was safer that way. In your old world only other primes were eligible for you to mate with. But maybe now it was time to turn it back on, let yourself notice things, let the possibilities in.

“Oh I wanted to ask you guys a favour.” You pull them back, the ride slowly inching forward to let the next 3 in. “I don’t know if Felix mentioned it but my heat is starting in a couple days and -“

“We know.” Changbin cuts in. “Uh, we know but Felix didn’t tell us.” 

You eye him for a moment, there was something he wasn’t saying. You glance at Minho.

“We can smell it.” Minho to the rescue.

“Smell it?” You give yourself a quick sniff. You couldn’t smell anything. At least you don’t normally until the day of. “Huh. Ok? Well I was wondering if I could borrow something from each of you during my heat?”

Their eyes spring back to you. Shock is not the right word to explain what you see. 

“My doctor told me to test my omega. It’s been mostly dormant for a long time because of my upbringing, so if there is something going on with us” you motion in a triangle “seeing the reaction my base instincts might be helpful, you know? My omega might gravitate toward one of you.”

You could see it in their faces that they were contemplating your words carefully.

“I mean, it does make sense.” Minho agrees.

“But what about you not being swayed by your omegas needs? Your choice?” Changbin seemed concerned.

“I will not let my omega mount either of you before this me decides how we might feel.” You give them the Boy Scout salute. 

“Mount?” Changbin bursts into a full laugh. Finally the mood lightens again. The three of you buzzing by the time the ride actually gets into full swing. You and changbin both needing to hold onto Minho as he yells about wanting to get off. Changbin just screams incoherently and you can’t stop laughing. 

Thankfully the rides controller takes pity on them and slows it down to let your group off. Both boys stumble out but still manage to help you off. The rest of your entourage wanting to go again.

You decide to head into the building that holds the bowling alley, your incline down the last steps proves to be a little slippery as your booted foot slides out from under you.

The impact with your ass and the carpeted floor makes you grunt. They both let out maniacal fits of laughter at your landing. 

“Ha.Ha. Help me.” You demand, pout uncontrollably appearing.

“Watch out if we don’t help her back up she might use her prime voice on us.” 

“Yea because that worked so well last time” you rolled your eyes and huffed. Thankfully they still help you into a seat next to an unused lane. “Besides, if anything it would just make you two high or something.”

“What do you mean?” That causes them to stop laughing.

“Apparently it’s another possibility. That being fated to a prime means the voice doesn’t work on you like other people. Alphas have no choice, their inner alpha hates it. Like nails on a chalkboard. But with fated it hits the serotonin and dopamine thrill.” You smirk, flashing them bright eyes batting your eyelashes. 

“Our own personal dealer?” Minho chides.

“Nice.” Changbin retorts, they high five. “I’ll grab you shoes….or a shoe.”

“I’ll grab drinks. You.” He points to you, then your chair.

You wave him off in indifference to scan around the alley. You guys hadn’t been here in almost a year. It was almost scary how it hadn’t changed at all. Still a musky smell of ocean water, easy pizza and burgers, as well as a hint of BO. The workers were younger than you remembered, but you were also older than you remembered. Chuckling to yourself at the nostalgia. Your eyes find their way over to Minho in the line for the concession. 

His broad back and slender waist turned to you. He wasn’t as slim as a lot of the members, Ji specifically. No one could beat that man's waist. He never really wore shirts that were tight fitted, which in hindsight could be quite a shame….that went for Changbin too. Minho was taller, with sharp features, but still soft to look at. But that was him, wasn’t it?

He looked cold from the surface, not really responding or speaking but he was extremely observant. If you had to guess his love language would definitely be acts of service. He wasn’t good at accepting compliments, which made it all the more fun to dish out. Watching the blush creep up his face as he tries to hide it. He really was dependable. There was no doubt about that in your mind. He had such a deep caring nature for those he cared about, anyone would be lucky to be bonded with him.

Just as you fall deeper into his silhouette, Changbin appears in front of you.

“Shoe!” He chimes cheerfully. A single show for you and two pairs for them. Before you can say anything in response he’s down on one knee in front of you. 

Pulling your good foot by your ankle he rests it on his leg, untying the laces and slipping your foot out. He’s extremely fluid and delicate in his movements, it’s weirdly mesmerizing. His strong hand reaches over to grab the single bowling shoe, sliding onto your foot with ease. 

How did he know your shoe size? You’re sure that’s something you’ve never brought up before. You can see the top of his bleach dyed hair, his roots vaguely noticeable. Another observant one, he and Minho clearly shared that in common. However he seemed more like a words of affirmation type… He always knew exactly what to say in any situation. Always knew how to make someone feel better, he was truthful in a way that seemed more uplifting even with sour news. His shoulders were broader than your other friends, his ability to gain muscle was something to be desired for sure. His obvious soft eyes could turn fierce in a second if he felt he had to. 

It took everything in you to not reach out to feel his hair run through your fingers. 

And just like that you snap back out. Your shoe on and laced up, and Changbin standing to accept his drink from Minho. Minho doesn’t say anything as he places a drink down next to you. You peer over at it not sure what you were expecting as you hadn't told him what you wanted. 

He notices you staring at your cup. 

“Water.” He states, sipping on his drink. “Too much caffeine doesn’t sit well before your heat.”

He turns away, both men now replacing their shoes. They had moved on to another conversation. But you felt stuck.

‘Water…water…’

How did he know caffeine makes you feel gross during your heat period? You’ve only ever mentioned it to Felix. Did Felix tell Minho about the caffeine? Did Felix tell Changbin your shoe size? How did they know…. When did they know?

Just as your minding your words to ask them about it, the others in your group come barrelling down the stairs. Laughter stealing your attention, maybe later. You’d ask them later.

----

Later your ass. You never did get round to asking, your mind in a sort of whirlwind since. But still  the day before your heat Minho and Changbin showed up at your apartment, they both had decided the best thing to give you were one of the most worn hoodies. Apparently Felix told them you tended to get really cold between waves of need. Changbin had brought a black one and Minhos was a light gray. They had made sure the day leading up to they had worn them without taking suppressants. So they slept, ate, worked out (per your request) in the hoodies. 

You thanked them, letting them know you’d wash them before returning and you were sorry for however state they ended up. They laughed and said they knew what they had agreed to. 

And with that you locked yourself away, awaiting the pain and insufferability of going through your heat alone again.

Your doctor's idea was a good one….well it would have been if you were someone else.

----

The day after your heat ended you had managed to clean yourself and your apartment up. Your fridge was now empty of the premade meals that Felix had given you. Now understanding why they had an underlying smell of a bakery, Minho was the one who made them for you.

You had your answer post heat, but did it really change anything? Should you tell your doctor? Felix? Changbin and Minho? 

You were already emotionally mentally and physically exhausted, but this was just ready to make your head explode. Deciding fuck it, you placed both sweaters unwashed in sealed bags. Keeping them separate from each other and from stinking up the whole building. Throwing them in your backpack and slinging it over your shoulder. You texted Minho asking if they were both home stating you had to talk to them. He instantly replied that they were and you could come over anytime.

You rushed to get your shoes on and head over to their shared apartment. Of course they would share, now it makes more sense because of their pheromones and your understanding of them. Clearly something you once again didn’t notice before.

Your fist against the door sounds a lot more aggressive than you meant it to be. Changbin opens the door, almost taking you by surprise, but don’t let it stop you. Dropping your backpack onto the middle of their living room floor. 

“Are you ok?” Minho questions quickly. “You smell…sour?”

“Did something go wrong?” Changbins clearly worried. They both are. 

“No…well…it did tell me…things, I guess.” You fumble your words, which is most definitely not like you. “I just had to get out of there. I was thinking too loudly.”

“We get it, it’s a lot to ask of you” Minho reassures. Why did that make you feel even shittier?

“My backpack.” You look down to the mass on the floor. “I brought your sweaters back…”

“Before you say anything y/n.” Changbin walks across the room to you. “We have a favour we’d like to ask of you. Or at least we hope it could help?”

“We were thinking, what if we each took an item from you for out ruts?” Minho joined him in front of you. “It might not be the same as your heat, but at least you’d be reassured on our end that our alphas are 100% wanting this. Just like…..we are.”

“You-?” Fumbled, seriously now was not the time to lose your ability with words. 

“We both have genuine feelings for you. Alphas or not. People to people. If we could have it our way, honestly we’d be willing if you wanted both of us. Our alphas agree…” Changbin smiles softly. 

You take a step back, baffled by them. Two of the most capable human beings wanted you, you as a person. Not because you were a prime…and their alphas wanted to be with you too. Alphas wanting to be with a Prime, not only that but share? This was beyond a possibility. This was impossible. You let out a dry airy chuckle, now standing confident to face them.

“In my backpack, are your hoodies. I didn’t wash them.” From confusion to mischief, the look in your eyes hypnotizes them. You reach down, pulling out each sealed ziploc piece of clothing. Tossing them at the males they catch them effortlessly, without looking away from you. 

“I think I’ll let you find out for yourselves.” 

They blink themselves back, glancing down to the packages in their hands. You see their jaws lock in place. Could it be worry, or they’re both ready for their chance to be disappointed or is it the thought of being able to smell what you smelt like during your heat. 

Regardless it didn’t matter now. You all needed answers, you had heard theirs. Now they need to know yours.

Hesitantly, with shaking hands they open the bags in unisent, letting the smells intrapped inside to explode out. They both swallowed down a lump in their throats. You can see them inhale deeply and shudder. Something about watching them on edge, waiting for their answer, both wanting awakens your omega. Instead of fighting them down you let them watch, to take in the sights and scents with you. You can feel your left eye be taken over by your omega. For the first time, in your life your omega and you were working together. 

During your heat you found a harmony within yourself you didn’t know you could have. 

Changbins shoulders roll back as the stress vein on Minho's neck protrudes. They reach in, taking a moment to look at each other exchanging a nod and pulling the garments out. The fusion of your scent on full blast and theirs erupts. It feels so thick it will probably stick to every surface in their apartment.  

They scan over their individual pieces, you can see when they and their alphas understand what they are holding in their hands. Your omega purrs, feeling the pheromones of a pleased alphas circulating. They both hear it when you let the sound come out of your mouth. One eye normal, one omega taken. 

“It’s difficult to wear two hoodies at all times.” Your voice sultry, vibrating with the purr from your chest. “Maybe one of you should give me some pants next time.” 

You smile widely at them. Their alphas are just as shocked as they are, looking to each other and what's in their hands it sinks in. 

You wore both. The whole time your omega needed an alpha, you clung to both. You used both to fight for release. 

“Or how about instead, you both join me?” You smirk. “Because I’ve already starting falling for both of you.” 

The smile on their faces was beyond breathtaking. To think you might have missed this. You never wanted to miss this. Miss them. 

The possibility seemed so unreal months ago, but now could only have been a definite since the beginning. 

masterlist

[wildgirllz]

hi hello!!! i hope you're having a good day today! <3

i hope this isn't too specific, but can i request a dean winchester x male reader where they were childhood bEsT friends (they had the biggest crushes on each other but they could never admit it), but reader ran away from home when he was a teen and never got the chance to say goodbye to dean, and now dean and reader accidentally run into each other years later after they're both adults and on a case, and they have a mixed feeling reuinion because dean is OVERJOYED to see reader again, but also he is upset that reader never told dean where he was going, or even said goodbye? tysm <3

Ofc!! Here you go <3

Runaway

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: Angst, but a happy ending :)

It was just another day on the job for Dean Winchester, the hunter with the rugged good looks and the devil-may-care attitude. He had been hunting monsters with his brother, Sam, for years now, and while the work was dangerous, it was the only life he knew. He was good at it, and he liked the thrill of the hunt.

As he walked through the crowded city street, Dean felt a strange sensation in the pit of his stomach. It was a feeling he hadn't experienced in years, not since he was a teenager. He glanced around, trying to figure out what was causing the sensation, and then he saw him.

(Y/n).

Dean's childhood best friend. They had grown up together, spending countless hours exploring the woods and getting into all sorts of trouble. They had been inseparable, until (Y/n) had disappeared one day, without a word.

Dean had never been able to forget (Y/n). They had had a crush on each other when they were teenagers, but they had never been able to admit it. And now, here he was, standing in the middle of the street, looking just as handsome as ever.

Dean walked up to him, feeling a mix of emotions. He was overjoyed to see (Y/n) again, but at the same time, he was upset that (Y/n) had disappeared without a word.

"(Y/n)?" Dean said, his voice barely above a whisper.

(Y/n) turned around, and when he saw Dean, his face lit up with a smile. "Dean!" he said, his voice filled with surprise and delight.

For a moment, they just stared at each other, lost in memories of their childhood. Then, Dean spoke again. "Where the hell have you been, man? You disappeared without a word."

(Y/n)'s smile faded slightly, and he looked down at the ground. "I know," he said quietly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to just leave like that. I just... I had to get away, you know? Things were tough at home, and I needed to figure some things out."

Dean frowned. "What kind of things?"

(Y/n) shrugged. "Just... stuff. Family stuff. I don't really want to talk about it."

Dean nodded, understanding that some things were best left unsaid. "Well, it's good to see you again," he said, trying to lighten the mood. "What are you doing here?"

(Y/n) hesitated for a moment, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to answer. "I'm a hunter," he finally said. "I've been working on my own for a few years now."

Dean raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Really? You're a hunter?"

(Y/n) nodded. "Yeah. It's not easy, but I like it. It's... it's kind of like being a superhero, you know? Saving people, hunting things. It's a rush."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, I know what you mean. I've been doing it for years."

They chatted for a few more minutes, catching up on old times and exchanging stories about their hunting experiences. Dean was glad to see that (Y/n) was doing well, but at the same time, he couldn't help feeling a twinge of hurt that (Y/n) had never reached out to him.

After a while, they parted ways, with (Y/n) promising to keep in touch. Dean watched him go, feeling a mix of emotions. He was happy to have seen (Y/n) again, but at the same time, he was hurt that (Y/n) had never told him where he was going, or even said goodbye.

As Dean walked back to his hotel, his thoughts were consumed by (Y/n). He couldn't believe that after all these years, they had run into each other again. It was like fate had brought them back together.

But at the same time, he couldn't help feeling angry and hurt. He had spent years wondering what had happened to (Y/n), worrying about him, and missing him. And (Y/n) had just disappeared without a word.

When he got back to the hotel, Sam could tell something was bothering him. "What's wrong, Dean?" he asked.

Dean sighed heavily. "I ran into (Y/n) today," he said.

Sam's eyes widened. "Really? How is he?"

"He's... he's good," Dean said, still lost in thought. "He's a hunter now, apparently. He's been on his own for a while."

Sam looked at him quizzically. "And that's a bad thing?"

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. It's just... it's weird, you know? We were best friends, and then he just disappeared without a word. And now he's a hunter, and I had no idea."

Sam nodded sympathetically. "I can see why that would bother you," he said. "But hey, at least you got to see him again. Maybe you can reconnect."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, right. Like he's just going to waltz back into my life like nothing happened."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Well, maybe he will. Or maybe he won't. But either way, you should try to make peace with it. Life's too short to hold grudges."

Dean nodded, knowing his brother was right. But it was easier said than done.

The next few days were a blur of hunting and killing, and Dean didn't have much time to think about (Y/n). But he couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed between them. They had been such close friends as kids, and now they were practically strangers.

It wasn't until they finished the hunt and were packing up to leave that (Y/n) showed up again. He was standing outside the hotel, looking nervous.

"Hey," he said, his eyes darting around nervously. "Can we talk?"

Dean hesitated, unsure. "I don't know if there's anything left to say," he said finally.

(Y/n) looked at him pleadingly. "Please, Dean. I need to explain."

Dean sighed heavily. "Fine," he said. "Let's talk."

They walked to a nearby park and sat down on a bench. (Y/n) took a deep breath and started talking.

"I know I disappeared without a word," he said. "And I'm sorry. But you have to understand, things were really bad at home. My parents were fighting all the time, and my brother was getting into trouble. I didn't know what to do, so I just... I ran away."

Dean listened, his anger slowly melting away. He could hear the pain and desperation in (Y/n)'s voice, and he knew that he had been through a lot.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," (Y/n) continued. "But I was scared, and I didn't know what else to do. And then, after a while, I was too ashamed to come back. I didn't know how to face you.”

Dean nodded, understanding. "I get it," he said. "But you could have at least told me you were leaving. I spent years wondering what had happened to you, worrying about you. And you didn't even say goodbye."

(Y/n) looked down at his feet. "I know,"

There was a moment of silence between them, and Dean couldn't help but feel conflicted. On one hand, he was glad to finally have some closure and hear (Y/n)'s side of the story. On the other hand, he was still hurt that (Y/n) had left without a word.

"I'm sorry," (Y/n) said softly. "I should have told you. I should have said goodbye."

Dean took a deep breath and looked over at his old friend. He could see the sincerity in (Y/n)'s eyes and knew that he meant what he said.

"It's okay," Dean finally said. "I forgive you."

(Y/n) looked up at him, relief flooding his face. "Thank you," he said.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes before (Y/n) spoke up again. "I missed you," he said softly. "A lot."

Dean felt his heart skip a beat at the words. He had missed (Y/n) too, more than he had ever let himself admit. They had been each other's confidants, each other's first crushes. But things had changed, and they had both gone down different paths.

"I missed you too," Dean finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

There was a moment of silence between them before (Y/n) spoke up again. "I know we can't go back to how things were," he said. "But... maybe we could try to be friends again?"

Dean thought about it for a moment before nodding. "Yeah," he said. "I'd like that."

(Y/n) smiled, and they sat in comfortable silence for a while longer. Dean couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over him as he sat there with his old friend.

As they got up to leave, (Y/n) turned to him. "Hey, Dean?" he said.

"Yeah?" Dean asked.

"Thank you for forgiving me," (Y/n) said. "It means a lot."

Dean smiled at him. "Of course," he said. "We were always meant to find each other again."

(Y/n) smiled back at him, and they walked back to the hotel together. It wasn't a perfect reunion, but it was a start. Dean knew that there was still a lot of healing to be done, but he was willing to try. He had missed (Y/n) too much to let him go again.

[littlenightmares2]

the maw does not begin as an outright prison, at least not for the vast majority of children stashed within it's depths.

the enormous amount of meat needed to satiate the unending hunger of the guests takes a year to gather... hence the annual nature of the feasting that takes place onboard. over the course of each year, children are shepherded to the ship that would one day become their tomb and kept as unwilling guests.

the meat tastes it's best when the little brats are freshly killed. crude though the chefs are, indifferent as the lady is to the fate of her visitors, the children are kept alive as long as possible in order to preserve the best taste. this is an experience that is advertised to lure in the hungry from all over the nowhere. it must live up to the fantastical tales of endless gluttony to some degree.

the prison exists as a temporary home.

roger is put to work on another matter alongside his usual duties- tending to the children. he deals in general upkeep and repairs around the ship, of course, but his priority is to be the containment and appeasement of their living food reserves.

escape is unforgivable. roger is patient, but there is a decisive limit to how many runaways he'll haul back to the beds before punishing the wrongdoing.

causing unrest among their peers or discussing any desire for freedom is sure to cause a watchful eye to be cast the offending child's way. if the behaviour continues , they are taken away. the others do not know where, but nobody ever returns.

the more unruly children can be outright killed to make an example of them as a last resort- though this tends to only happen once there is already unrest within the dormitories. once a point of no return has already been reached, once the maw's true purpose has somehow gotten out. some children are swept away and cast into cages.

on a very rare occasion, the lady might ask for a particular troublemaker to be brought before herself. roger obliges without question, of course. there is always a need for more nomes to cast into the depths of the maw to keep the engine humming... always amusement to be sourced in keeping a little lost thing in a gilded cage within her residence while she muses over what is to become of it, watching it tremble in due deference.

roger does find enjoyment in the work. his actions could almost be construed as genuine care. the children are tucked into bed, where they remain until morning . they are counted with regularity, though it becomes harder and harder to keep up with escapees and ensure numbers are correct the more children are being held in the prison. the number steadily mounts as the year goes on. he becomes sloppy, careless- leaves the door cracked when scrambling in pursuit of one child...

only for another runaway to take advantage of his mistake and slip out, too, a shackle still clamped around his little ankle.

the chefs prepare slop for the children and they are ushered into the cafeteria to eat whatever is put before them, drink a cup of water. in earlier days, they chatter among one another. as the feast draws closer, as more of them have come to understand the true nature of this terrible place, there will be a resounding silence and a few notably empty seats from some of their more outspoken peers being taken away in the night without explanation.

the playroom is bursting with toys of roger's own making. swings, model train sets, a roundabout... carefully carved dolls and blocks. the children are to spend their days playing together within, under his watchful eye. he used to unsettle them. many of them even hated him, in the beginning. but they come around... or at least learn to ignore him as best as they can. he'll bring things on request sometimes. a silver music box, a whittled nome toy. he has yet to oblige the request for a television set many children have posed.

none of the children are happy to be there. all seek escape initially. they don't understand why they're here or why they can't leave, and roger certainly doesn't provide much in the way of answers. he doesn't like questions at all, actually. but they're treated well enough that most concede to remaining within the prison for a large chunk of their stay... before the day of the feast draws close and they're all bundled up and sent off to the kitchen.

[megamindsecretlair]

Runaway Lover, Part 2

Pairing: Professor!Big Stunna x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. ANGST. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female receiving) teasing/mocking, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, possession kink, all consensual. Power imbalance.

Summary: After learning that Stunna is your teacher, you must drop the class. When you're unable to, you try to break things off with Stunna. Only it doesn't go so well.

Word Count: 6,067k

Part 1 | Part 3

A/N: Everybody say thank you @melaninpov. The responses to this fic was overwhelming! I love ya'll so much! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @blackerthings @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @thecookiebratz @iv0rysoap @notapradagurl7 @sevikasblackgf @miyuhpapayuh @xo-goldengirl @kindofaintrovert @flydotty @judymfmoody @slippinninque @soufcakmistress @henneseyhoe @westside-rot @melaninpov @twocentuar @blackpinup22 @babybratzmaraj @theyscreamsannii @kiabialia @thedonsfactory @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @nworbaij @hopefulromantic1 @lesbiantreehugger @longpause-awkwardsmile @badassdoll @kholdkill @blackpinup22 @cardi-bre91 @blowmymbackout @jay-mach @sageispunk @yourofficialgal

You wanted to throw up. You wanted to disappear. You wanted to jump out of your skin and never look back. 

To his credit, Stunna - you refused to call him by his real name - continued on with his spiel, effectively ignoring you. The only thing you could think of was how good he felt. How good he smelled. Those sweet and filthy words he whispered in your ear while he was playing with your pussy. While he owned you. While he seemed to reach inside you and yank out your soul. He stole the damn thing back in Punta Cana and now here he was. In your city. In your school. 

Your anxiety twisted your gut into painful knots that no amount of breathing exercises could fix. You felt as if you had a scarlet letter on your chest. Could anyone tell? Would anyone know? 

You tried to cast your eyes around the room, but there were only the bored looks on everyone’s faces. There were some people checking him out. You didn’t blame them. The man was gorgeous. And the chocolate outfit was so sexy against his dark skin. You wished he was wearing his grills as well. That would ruin you.

You slumped in your seat and looked everywhere but at him. You needed to drop this class. You needed to escape. There was no way that you could spend the next four months staring at that piece of art and not fail the class. Or want to leap over everyone and jump his bones.

You knew what those hands could do. You knew what filthy images he could conjure with his mouth. His deep voice was sinful and you spent a glorious Saturday getting to listen to him speak, laugh, or tell jokes. 

You couldn’t do this. But fear kept you glued to your seat. You could not get up in front of everyone and walk out where everyone could see. And what would Stunna do? Ignore you? Chastise you? Tell you sit your ass back down?

There was only so much he could do without turning awareness to the fact that you knew each other already. The last thing you could afford was a scandal. You’d end up in a newspaper somewhere. Or worse. On the news. You pictured them finding an embarrassing photo of you from the gram and blasting it nationwide. 

The headlines would write themselves. No. You did not need that type of negativity and you were not prepared to do that to Stunna either. So you endured. You waited. You avoided looking at him but you couldn’t close your ears.

You focused on breathing. You daydreamed. You did anything you could not to focus on how those pants fit his long frame. His ass looked magnificent. The sleeves of his sweater were rolled up to reveal his forearms. 

His eyes caught you staring and he fumbled in his speech. He recovered quickly, going over his syllabus for the class. How it was important to show up because he was the type to challenge thinking. He wasn’t going to be a stuffy professor, or at least he wouldn’t try to be. 

You heard a soft sigh to your left. You turned to the sound. There was a woman next to you with pale skin and strawberry blonde hair. She looked at Stunna as if he hung the moon. 

You didn’t blame her but there was a surge of jealousy. You wanted to tell her to look somewhere else because he was fucking taken. The realization that he did not belong to you was like a bucket of ice water down your back. You turned your attention back to Stunna as he told everyone to introduce themselves.

You fought off a groan. If possible, you would sink further into your seat. You hated when professors did this type of shit. Couldn’t they get to know people some other way? In this day and age of technology, how hard was it to print pictures and names and study it like they made students study for an exam? 

Stunna parked his sexy ass on the edge of the desk in the corner of the room. He had an iPad in his hand and he seemed to be jotting notes after each student said their name and a hobby of theirs. 

When it was your turn, Stunna said your name. You took a deep breath and recited your name. You drew a blank on any and all hobbies you ever partook in. “I like to travel,” you finally said. 

Stunna smirked and nodded. “Any interesting places?” He asked.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I just came back from the DR, actually,” you said.

Stunna nodded. “Very cool! Now, let’s see…” He looked down at his iPad and called the next person but he still had that smirk on his face. You needed to get out. You needed away. He could not make light of the fact that you knew each other. Knowing fuck well it could jeopardize not only you, but his teaching credentials.

Soulmate or not, you were not going to let him throw away his career. The rest of the class went by while you slowly died inside. Stunna introduced some of the books he wanted to read and discuss for the next few months.

As soon as he dismissed the class, you were the first one out of the door. You didn’t think he tried to call after you, but you didn’t give him the chance to. You flew out of the classroom, out of the building, and made a beeline towards the Admin building.

You ran up the steps, lungs burning as you raced across campus. You had a runaway thought that life didn’t seem quite so dull considering that Stunna was in your neck of the woods. But you squashed that. Nothing could happen as long as he was your teacher.

You went up the elevator and got off on the floor with your academic counselor. You made it to his office and knocked on the door. Mr. Sullivan pushed his glasses from his face and looked up with a smile. He was a sweet, if aloof, man who seemed to phone in his work rather than take any joy in it. 

“How is the first day of classes?” He asked. He smiled politely, but there was a look in his eye as if he was trying to place you. 

“I need to drop a class. Or get a different class?” You sat down in front of Mr. Sullivan’s desk and clutched your backpack to your chest. You didn’t want to look at your phone. You didn’t want to see missed calls or texts from Stunna.  There was nothing to discuss until you had all your cards on the table. 

Mr. Sullivan’s thick eyebrows drew down as he woke up his ancient computer. He typed around and hummed as he did so. Your leg bounced a mile a minute as he looked up something on it.

“Forgive me, what’s your name and student number?” 

You told him, repeating it over and over because you were talking too fast for him. Once he got your information, he was back to humming as he searched. “Now, which class do you need to drop?” 

You rolled your neck and told him, again, what you needed done. He nodded and went back to clicking around. There couldn’t be that many literature classes at this fucking school. 

“Oh, dear,” he said.

“What does that mean?” You asked. You chewed on your bottom lip. You fought everything in here to jump over the desk and use his computer to drop the class. 

Mr. Sullivan shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s too late to drop the class,” he said.

“What? What about the first week's grace period?” 

“Usually, yes, you would have the option to switch classes. In your case, however, every literature class at your level is currently full. Perhaps you can check back in at the end of the week and see who starts switching around. Although, you do need this class in order to qualify for your major. I would not suggest dropping it and trying to make it up next year. Six classes are difficult for any student…”

He began to drone on and on about preventing burn out, protecting mental health, whatever else his nasally voice could conjure up. You tuned him out as his words replayed over and over. You were stuck with the class. Or you’d have to try and take six next semester. You could do it, you had no doubt about it. But you shouldn’t have to.

Your last year was your last hurrah before you had to think about what you wanted to do with your major. If you wanted to do grad school or not. You could do a summer class but now was the time to think about internships. 

You sighed and sat back in your seat. Hope was cruel. Hope was spiteful and evil. You had your hopes up that Mr. Sullivan would be able to help you but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t save you. 

The melancholy this time around sat on you like a ton of bricks. You hadn’t expected to find Stunna on your trip. You hadn’t expected to fall so fast for him. You had your entire life to find someone, true, but you already found your perfect person. Written in the stars for you. Made for you. And now this.

“Now of course, there are some classes offered in the summer for a summer term. But…”

“That’s alright, Mr. Sullivan. I’ll stay in this one. Thanks,” you murmured. You left his office, let the next kid come in and bug the old man, as you left the Admin building. This shit fucking sucked. 

You finally fished your phone out of your pocket. As expected, there were missed calls and desperate texts from Stunna.

Stunna: Please, talk to me.

Stunna: Please

Stunna: I didn’t know! We never talked about it.

Stunna: At least let me know you’re alive??

Each text hurt your heart worse. You could feel his desperation, no matter how far apart you were physically. It felt as if his heart was calling towards yours. Connected on some plane you couldn’t see. The last text from him was an address. 

Stunna: Please, meet me tonight. Just to talk.

Yeah, right. If you went to his place tonight, you’d do more than talk. Your attraction to him was that strong. That powerful. You knew you needed to talk to him if you were going to stay in his class. You were both adults. You could keep your hands off of each other, right? 

Later that night, you met up with Angela and Stella back in the dorm you all shared. They could tell that something was wrong with you but you couldn’t begin to describe it. Every time you tried, the words dried in your throat. Wilting like old flowers. 

“Girl, damn. What happened between you and that guy?” Stella asked.

“Did he hurt you?” Angela asked right after. 

“It’s fine,” you said. Your leg was back to bouncing. Despite your earlier protests, you needed to talk to Stunna. Meeting at his place wasn’t the smartest move. But what was the alternative? Anywhere you met publicly, you worried that anyone would read it all over your face. You’d be just as obsessed as the girl in your class. 

“It’s not fine. If he hurt you, run me his name. I’d beat that mu’fucka up!” Stella said. She held up her tiny fists and shadowboxed in the living room. 

You giggled and shook your head. “I promise he didn’t hurt me. He was the perfect gentleman,” you said. Even while he was in your guts, he was still sweet afterwards. He knew exactly what you needed.

“Then what the hell is going on?” Angela asked.

“Right? I feel like we should have told her to look the other way,” Stella said.

“How could we? That man was so damn fine!” Angela said.

“All of them were! Like where the hell they grow them at?” 

The sisters went back and forth talking about Stunna and his friends. They were right. All of them were fine. But Stunna was different. Smooth skin, neat beard. Tall as a tree. He checked every last one of your boxes. Smart, funny, cultured, traveled, well read. 

You were in trouble. You were standing on the train tracks watching the train approach with lights on, horn blaring, and you couldn’t make yourself move. Didn’t want to move, truth be told.

The time to meet Stunna grew closer. You felt it like the swing of a pendulum. You kept checking your phone. You hadn’t answered Stunna and he hadn’t sent anything else after his address and plea for you to come over. 

Before it got too late, you told the sisters that you would go to the library to see if they had the books you needed for class. Anything to avoid having to go to the student store to purchase the books you’d only need once. They continued to talk and watch TV, content to still recover from the trip.

You went to your room, closed the door, and let the panic overtake you. You tore through your closet trying to find an outfit that screamed that this was casual. You were not trying to look pretty for the man. 

Jeans seemed too casual. A skirt seemed too suggestive. Romper seemed too out of place. You were thinking too much about it. And you were stalling. You sighed and chose a dress. It still seemed too suggestive, but dresses could be casual. It was whatever. It was no big deal. 

You got dressed and left the dorm, heading across campus and off site. There were campus-owned apartments here and you quickly walked, hoping to avoid trouble. The air was cool, almost cold, and there was a light breeze that made trees sway. 

In your haste to leave, you forgot a jacket. Stupid. Stupid just like your decision to hike to his apartment up the block. Your feet carried you there anyway and soon you were outside of his door, knocking on it.

A second later, Stunna opened the door. He changed out of his outfit for the day. He wore gray sweatpants and a black tank that highlighted his amazing physique. 

God took his time with this one. 

There was no doubt about it. You were momentarily struck dumb, openly staring at his body.

“You wanna come in?” His deep voice shook you from your filthy thoughts. 

You smiled and giggled nervously. He stepped back and you went inside. The place was like any other standard apartment. White walls, bright hardwood floors that had seen better days, with a small kitchen and bar area. 

He had boxes lined up against the wall. Some were open and some weren’t. He was still in the middle of moving in, but he had a linen couch and recliner, coffee table, and a flat screen TV with a football game playing. 

He crossed the room and put it on mute. He wiped his hands on the back of his sweats, calling attention to his glorious ass. You clasped your hands in front of you lest the traitorous things do something rash, like smack his booty. 

“I was hoping you’d come.” 

“I didn’t think I was going to,” you admitted. You felt silly standing in the middle of his living room but you didn’t want to sit down and get comfortable either. 

“I’m glad you did. Now I wish we would’ve at least discussed where we were from. When you said you were starting classes, I just didn’t think that it would be possible you’d be in my class,” he said. 

You groaned and rubbed your temples. “I tried to drop the class today,” you said.

A flash of hurt ran across his features before he turned to the TV. A moment later, his features were schooled and he nodded. “That’s probably for the best,” he said.

“I couldn’t drop it. It was too late. Everyone else was full and if I wait till next year, I’d be working overtime to pass all my classes,” you said. 

Stunna just stared at you across the gap. You played with your fingers, tapping the tips to keep you grounded. 

“I don’t like this,” he said. He gestured towards the couch. “Please, come sit. I won’t bite.” He grinned at the end of his sentence and you rolled your eyes, fighting off a grin. He was so damn corny.

You stepped closer anyway, feeling better with each step towards him. You didn’t like being that far away from him either. You sat down, smoothing your blue dress over your legs so that you wouldn’t give him the wrong impression. Maybe jeans would have been better. You definitely needed pants right now. 

You felt the heat of Stunna’s attention on your legs, but you clasped your hands over your lap and kept your legs firmly closed, no matter how awkward or painful it was because of your thick thighs. 

Stunna sat on the edge of the cushion, legs spread wide and taking up so much room that his knee almost brushed yours. His knee may as well have been a raging fire. This was insane right? To feel so intensely for a stranger? 

Stunna didn’t feel like a stranger, that was the problem. He felt like you had known him all your life and you were only remembering your time together. It was surreal and you had no frame of reference for something like this. 

“So you can’t drop the class. And I just got hired so I can’t drop it either,” he said.

“Nope,” you said, emphasizing the P. 

“We didn’t imagine our connection in Punta Cana. It felt like I was dying when you walked away,” he said.

“Don’t say that,” you said. You sighed and refused to look at him. 

“Don’t tell you the truth?” He asked.

“We can’t do anything about it! You’re…my teacher,” you said. 

“I’m not suggesting we do anything about it. I’m just…I’m saying that we can’t ignore this. I just found you,” he said. He tilted his head so that he could catch your eyes. You looked up at him and melted. 

He was so damn cute that it hurt. It physically hurt you that he looked that way, smiled that way, and all of his attention was focused on you. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world and it was cruel.

“We finally found each other and the universe really said ‘guess again’.” You tried to smile but your heart hurt too damn much. 

Stunna moved his hand and slowly grabbed yours. You let him. He slid his fingers in between yours. His hand was hot to the touch. But comforting. Solid. Real. He squeezed your hand and brought it to his lips to place a small kiss on the back of your hand. 

“It’s not forever. We can restrain ourselves for four months, can’t we?” He asked. 

You licked your lips and looked him over. How? How could you be in the same class as him or be near him and not want to touch him? Hold him? Kiss him? You had shared so much on the beach in the DR and more so in his room. 

He pried you open and stared deep into your heart without flinching. He touched your soul. Melded and meshed your worlds together. You couldn’t ignore that. You also didn’t want either one of you to get in trouble. Someone would catch on. It may not be now or in a week, but someone would eventually. 

“We can restrain ourselves for four months,” you agreed. It was only four months. Twelve weeks. That was nothing. It would fly by. 

Stunna nodded and squeezed your fingers. “So, that means we probably shouldn’t meet like this. Or be alone…ever in the next four months. Because I’m not strong enough to resist you,” he said.

“Shut up!” You laughed and shook your head. 

“I wish I could let you see inside my head. You have been on my mind all day. All last night. The things I was thinkin’ ‘bout you earlier,” he said. He bit his lip, head tilted to the side. If you squinted, you were sure that you could see the dirty fantasies playing through his mind. 

“You are insane,” you said. “That doesn’t help!” 

“You’re right, I’m sorry. That was inappropriate,” he said. 

He still held your hand in his and you stared at it. You fit like two lost puzzle pieces to a complicated puzzle. You didn’t want to let go. But you needed to. It needed to start now.

You started to slide your hand from his. He squeezed your hand, unwilling to let go. “Stunna,” you whispered.

“This shit isn’t fair,” he said softly. 

“I know. It’s not forever, right?” You asked. 

He nodded and loosened his grip. You slipped your fingers from his. You lied. This was the hardest shit you ever had to do in your life. Saying goodbye to him the second time hurt a lot worse. It was physical blow to your gut. 

In the DR, you could pretend that it was just a vacation fling. You were talking about meeting up again, but that was in the future. At some unknown date that you didn’t have to think about. You had weeks or months to get to know each other. 

Now, he was real and in your face. Now, he was close enough to reach out and grab. An ache thumped in your chest and you stood up. If you didn’t get up and leave right now, you were going to break down in his new apartment and no man needed to see that. 

You stood and stepped away from his couch, already feeling the numbness creep back in. The hopelessness that the next four months would drag on and on. You made it halfway to the door before Stunna called your name.

You turned towards him just as he was crashing his lips to yours. You hadn’t heard him cross the distance, but with his long ass legs it probably only took him two steps to reach you. He grabbed the sides of your head and tilted your head so that he could kiss you deeper. 

The strength of his kiss undid you. You melted instantly into his arms, kissing him back with as much desperation. He backed you up until your back hit the wall and he pressed you into it, rubbing his erection into your lower belly. 

You had a taste of that so you knew how good it felt. How well he maneuvered it to bring you the most utmost pleasure. You gripped onto his shoulders and held him closer to you while you kissed and explored each other’s mouths.

His warm lips were heaven against yours. Tongue playing with yours. You never wanted it to end. Just kissing him got your panties damp, arousal starting to leak out of you. Sweat gathered between your thighs and you rubbed them together, needing more friction than that.

Stunna broke the kiss, giving you some much needed oxygen. It brought a little clarity. “Stunna, we can’t–” 

Stunna kissed you again, cutting off your complaints. “We need a proper goodbye right?” 

“We had one yesterday,” you pointed out. 

“Naw, this is a real one. Please. I can’t let you walk away for four months without something to hold me over,” he said. 

“You so nasty,” you said and grinned. 

He looked into your eyes and grinned. His smile would always slay you. It was so open and joyous. Straight teeth. Perfect teeth. Perfect smile. Perfect man. 

“Hm, I seem to recall a bad little girl letting strangers play with her pussy,” he said. He smacked your lips with his, once and then twice. He kissed along your jaw and then started kissing your neck. “You can’t wear a dress like this and not expect me to lose my mind.” 

“I didn’t know what to wear!” You said. 

His hands moved from your head down your sides and then gripped your ass under your dress. He moaned, clenching and unclenching your ass cheeks with a low growl. 

“Do me a favor and don’t wear dresses for the next four months. I won’t be able to handle it,” he said. 

You made a strangled noise in the back of your throat. He wouldn’t be able to handle it? “Then you have to come to work looking like a bum, because that’s not fair,” you said. He got to look like an Adonis while you had to dress like a nun? How was that fair?

He squeezed your ass and you moaned, back bowing off of the wall. “Take these panties off for me,” he said. 

Your hands flew to your panties before your mind caught up. You hesitated briefly. Stunna stilled against you, likely giving you a chance to step away. Fuck it. You needed a proper goodbye. You needed something to hold you over as well. Something to get you through these next four months.

You got rid of your panties and he helped you take off your shoes and then your panties. He grinned, lips returning to yours. You moaned, feverish for his kisses. Stunna hissed knelt down in front of you.

He gathered up your dress and pooled it around your hips and fisted it in one hand. He spread your pussy lips with his free hand and delved into your pussy with his tongue. 

“Oh shit!” You moaned. You lifted one leg to give him better access. He growled his appreciation and moved his long tongue towards your dripping entrance. He pumped his tongue in and out of you and your eyes rolled back.

“OH fuck!” You screamed. Your hands dug into his small afro and pulled whatever you could get your hands on. His mouth felt amazing on your pussy. His nose tickled your clit and you felt it in your belly. You huffed and moaned, thighs shaking. 

He moved his tongue to your clit and flicked it back and forth with a speed you didn’t know he possessed. Your whines turned to desperate cries as you began to shake in earnest, screaming out an orgasm. 

Stunna rolled his whole head, slurping up your juices. He moaned into your pussy. He smacked your ass as you twitched above him. You looked down and caught his eyes at the same time. You almost came again. Locking eyes with him brought a level of intensity to the moment that you couldn’t describe. He made you feel like you were a giant. Or sitting on top of the world. 

When he was done with you, he slowly withdrew. There was a spit chain between his lips and your pussy. He grinned, watching it expand. He finally licked his lips and broke it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood up. 

“Taste even better than I remember. Should’ve seen the nut I busted in the shower this morning,” he said.

Your head dropped forward against his chest. “Fuck, don’t tell me that,” you said.

His rumbling chuckle vibrated against your cheek. You lifted your head and moved your hand beneath his sweats. He went commando underneath and you lifted an eyebrow at him. He grinned as your hand wrapped around his dick. You stroked him slowly because you didn’t have enough lubrication to get him going.

“Was gripping my meat and stroking, thinkin’ ‘bout you. About the sounds you made. The way you fit me so well,” he said. As he spoke, his tone went lower. He leaned forward and kissed you. 

He moved his hips and your hand slipped out. You looked at him with the question in your eyes. He grabbed your hips and turned you around. “As much as I would love those lips on me, I’ve been dying to get back in this pussy,” he said. 

He tugged the top of your dress until it came down and trapped your arms to your sides. He pushed you against the wall. The cold hit your nipples and you cried out. He scooted in closer and you felt him tug his sweats down. 

He lifted your left leg, slapping his meat against your pussy. The wet smacks were filthy. You moaned and he ran his dick in between your folds, getting the tip wet.

The tip of his dick pushed at your entrance and you moaned. He slid in, inch by inch, savoring the feeling of getting filled up by him. You were a huffing, panting mess by the time he bottomed out. He kissed your neck where it met your shoulder and you moaned. 

“Fuck,” he whispered.

Exactly your sentiments. You fit. You were a perfect match. He filled you up, just this side of incredibly full, and you closed your eyes to the sensation. To the feeling. He pinned you to the wall and began to move slowly, sliding in and out of you.

“Shit,” he moaned. 

“You feel so good, baby,” you moaned. 

“I feel good? You feel like home,” he said. He continued to kiss your neck, nibbling a bit, as his strokes increased. 

Your hands were on the wall, trying to anchor yourself against him. His strokes increased until he was rutting inside of you. Each thrust drew a ragged moan from your lips. He moved to a different angle and touched your sweet spot. You cried out, shaking desperately on his dick.

“There’s my fucking spot,” he said. He grinned against your skin. Your head flopped to the side. You bit your arm. He felt too good. Slipping in and out of you. The wet smacks of your combined juices were lewd and turned you on more. Made you drip more. 

“So fuckin’ wet, nasty girl. You like this dick, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” you moaned, nodding your head. 

“You like this dick inside you?” He asked.

“Uh-huh, so good,” you moaned. You drooled against your arm. 

“Let me hear you then,” he said. He moved his free hand down between your legs and began to stroke your clit in tandem with his thrusts. Your moans increased in volume, turning into screams as you crashed into another orgasm. 

Stunna kissed your cheek and jaw, licked the shell of your ear. “Sound so pretty when you cum. Music to my ears, baby,” he said. 

“Nut in me,” you moaned.

“What?” He asked. 

“Nut in me, please, I need it,” you moaned. 

Stunna growled and increased his thrusts. They turned into a brutal fucking, spearing you. He still played with your clit as he slammed into you, fucking you just how you liked. There was no begging. There was no negotiating. You didn’t have to stop in the middle to communicate that yes, it was okay to get rougher. It was okay to rock into your shit. 

Stunna just did it. He gave you exactly what you needed. 

“You want this nut?” He asked.

“Yessss,” you moaned. 

“Fuck, I’m so close,” he said.

“Stunna, ouuee Stunna,” you moaned in between his strokes.

“That’s right, you let me know who owns this pussy,” he said. 

“You. You own this pussy,” you moaned. He groaned before you finished your sentence. He nutted, his hot cum filling you to the brim. Some of it even slipped out and ran down your thigh. You shivered, your head turning fuzzy at the sensation. 

Stunna finally stilled his strokes and let his dick pulse. You hissed feeling it. Stunna dropped your thigh and grabbed your neck. He pulled you back into him and you turned your head so that you could kiss him. The kiss was sloppy and you both panted, breath fanning across each other’s faces. But any touch of his lips was worth it.

Stunna kissed your cheek. “I still got some more for you,” he said.

“More?” You asked.

Stunna slipped out of you and then roughly turned you around. He kissed you, pressing you back against the wall with the force of his kisses. He kissed down your body, rolling his tongue around both of your nipples. You cried out. 

He tugged you by the front of your dress towards the arm of his couch. He bent you over it and spread your ass cheeks. He moaned and smacked your ass. 

“Fuck, I need all night with you to say goodbye,” he said. 

You were too blissed out to chuckle. Or laugh. Your head was floating, flying; your mind went on a little trip and you had no plans of returning. 

He slipped back inside and you shared a moan, feeling complete once more. He immediately went back to pounding and rutting, slamming his thighs against your ass with the force of his strokes. 

“Who own this shit?” He asked.

“Youuu,” you moaned.

“Own the fuck outta this pussy. Feelin’ so good, pussy feelin’ so good. It’s mine now,” he groaned in between thrusts. The arm of the couch dug into your gut and it felt good. You felt just as you did on Saturday night. Possessed. Owned. 

“It’s yours!” You moaned. “It’s yours, Stunna!” 

“Damn right. Gonna write my initials in this pussy,” he groaned. His fingers turned bruising on your hips. 

His initials were already there. It felt like with every stroke, he was stitching your souls together. You became one soul every time his tip kissed your cervix. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” you moaned on each thrust.

His fingers moved to your clit again, flicking his fingers against it. You tried to lean up. You didn’t know why, only that you needed to move. To ease up a bit. He pressed on your back and made you take his dick. Made you take the brutal pounding. 

“Guhh,” you moaned and came with a loud cry. Your pussy gripped onto him and he moaned, thrusts turning sloppy and twitching. He came right after you, giving you another round of his cum. He soaked your pussy and you shivered, full body shaking.

Stunna slammed once more into you and then stilled, dick pulsing. His cum slipped down your thighs again. You were deliciously sore. You both panted in the quiet space. You listened to any sound he made. Greedy to capture everything. If this was goodbye, you were hesitant to see what hello looked like. 

Stunna slowly slipped out of you. You cried out. 

“Shh, shh, you know I got you, baby,” he said. When he was out, you were still sore as hell. You began to shake as the cold crept in. Something so powerful took a lot of energy. You weren’t just imagining things on Saturday. It wasn’t the anonymity of the vacation. You two shared a real connection. The kind love songs and poems were written about. And it was scary as hell. 

Stunna returned with a warm washcloth. You cried out, leaning up against the couch. Stunna cooed and talked softly. “I got you. I’m right here,” he said. He finished and wiped up your thighs as well.

When finished, he disappeared with the washcloth and then came back. He helped you stand and adjusted the dress back to where it should be. Then he moved towards the couch and had you straddle him. He held you and rubbed your back as you scooted into him and laid your head on his shoulder.

You didn’t speak. There was nothing to say. You had to find the strength to walk away from this in the morning. You weren’t going to fight it. You needed this goodbye as much as he did. You needed to get your mind wrapped around the fact that you couldn’t have this for months. 

It wasn’t the end of the world but it sure as shit felt like it. You were tired of being strong. But for now, you’d have to endure. It was the only way to get the best of both worlds. 

You listened to the cadence of his breathing. Warm chest. Strong arms around your back. “It’s not forever,” he said quietly.

No, it wasn’t forever.

D'awww, if you need more, you know I got you!

The Secret Big Stunna Files | Part 1 | Part 3

[lucagray813]

Better to Forget

Rating: T

Word Count: 1,567

Main Characters: Macaque

Minor Characters: Wukong

Relationships: Macaque & Wukong, could be interpreted as Shadowpeach

Summary: Macaque is running out of time and options.

Additional Tags: Hurt No Comfort, Angst

CW: Implications of death and suicide

Link to AO3 Version

----

You'd never catch Macaque complaining about being free from the Lady Bone Demon's chains but in the months following her demise he was coming to appreciate how much her magic had been doing to keep him sane.

Although, he thought that the constant struggle to resist her, combined with an all consuming lust for revenge, had to be given credit for keeping him from truly acknowledging the horrors he had endured in the pits of hell.

Either way, he was haunted by what his soul had endured in the attempt to cleanse him of his sins. No living creature should be able to remember what torture their soul had suffered, their minds simply weren't made to comprehend it.

In the light of the day he could find ways to occupy his mind, even if on occasion that meant finding ways to drown out the memories, to numb the phantom pains, if only for a moment.

But at night, there was no such escape. In his dreams he returned to the Dìyù and, so terrible and agonising was the experience, he could almost believe his soul was being stolen away in his sleep to continue with its eternal damnation.

Nothing stopped the nightmares.

They came from his very soul and nothing he could do to his mind or body could force it to forget what had happened.

Increasingly it seemed there were only two outcomes - he went mad or he returned to the Dìyù. Although if he was being honest it was more likely he went mad and then returned to the Dìyù anyway. If his soul wasn't so vehemently against it he might have been tempted to just speed things along to their inevitable conclusion.

He couldn't say his mind and body were on board with such an idea either - after everything he had suffered through to come back to life he was just going to throw it all away? No, there had to be a way to overcome this.

Souls were reborn millions by the minute with no memory of their time without a body - there had to be a way to forget what had happened to him. It would be much easier to search for a solution though if he could manage even a moment of genuine rest, free of torment. But that wasn't going to be happening anytime soon.

His soul was in tatters, his mind was on the countdown to joining it and then god knows what would become of his body.

He needed a solution and he needed one now.

After an excruciating period of desperate searching, he found himself making a deal with a truly ancient demon. And if his soul ever did find its way back to the Dìyù then the atrocities he'd committed in order to uphold his end of the bargain all but guaranteed it would never leave. So irredeemable and dangerous would the Ten King's judge his souls to be they'd probably just destroy it on the spot.

Regardless, he now held a potential solution in his hands. Yet, despite the fear of the Dìyù and the terror of the ever encroaching madness, he still hesitated to free himself from his hellish existence.

He didn't have time to find another solution but the one he had...

All it truly amounted to was a death his soul found palatable.

The spell in his possession would reset his mind, body and soul to exactly as it had been when he first took form in this world, with no possibility of it being undone.

The Six-Eared Macaque had been born from Wukong's runaway shadow on a lunar eclipse during the worst storm Flower Fruit Mountain had ever seen before or since. He'd emerged as Wukong had - fully grown, cognizant and capable.

He could almost muster up a fond smile at the memories of he and Wukong's first meeting - the latter furious over his stolen shadow. He had refused to give it back, mocking him for losing it in the first place... Wukong had chased after him for weeks trying to retrieve it.

If he were to start again, he would not need to worry about being helpless. In fact, starting again he wouldn't know to have a worry in the world. Nothing that haunted him now would continue to do so and yet...

He wouldn't be him. He would never be him again. The Six-Eared Macaque who had started life as the shadow of the Intelligent Stone Monkey would be as good as dead.

He grappled with this knowledge even as he prepared things for his rebirth. He would give himself the best start in life, he would leave himself with not only the knowledge to survive any potential danger but also his wisdom on how to thrive in this world - to appreciate it in a way he had failed to.

Although admittedly, that "wisdom" could simply be boiled down to "For the love of the gods, don't do what I did!".

Knowing who he had once been however, he knew he would not be satisfied without answers to how he came to be in this little piece of paradise Macaque had painstakingly carved out for him. He would need to provide some level of explanation.

He also knew that no matter what he did there was a not so insignificant chance that his new self would find his way back to Wukong somehow - whether it be intentional or not. And he had to stop him from making the same mistakes.

So he wrote his memoirs carefully, painfully aware of the dangerous ego he had once wielded. He didn't want to goad himself into trying to one up him, convinced he could do better nor did he want him to think that a bit of revenge was still in order.

He tried to impress upon himself that his life would be better off spent as far away from Sun Wukong as possible but if, for whatever reason, he wanted proof of who he'd once been then he'd need look no further than Flower Fruit Mountain but he warned him not to expect a warm welcome.

Despite all he was dedicating to his new life, he grieved for his current one. Some days he had to stop himself from burning everything he was trying to gift to his new self to the ground.

He didn't want to forget, he didn't want his suffering to have amounted to nothing. And in moments of true madness he even found he didn't want to forget the happy moments that made the bad so unbearable.

As he neared closer to his rebirth he had a quiet moment where he considered if he should say goodbye. It was a hysterical thought - say goodbye to who? Wukong?

The demon that had ruined him? That had driven him to this point? The demon that had promised him forever if only he stayed by his side? That had never truly loved anyone as much as he had loved himself but had easily convinced him otherwise?

No. There was no goodbye necessary.

But he had one last errand to run before the end - he needed to steal a peach from Flower Fruit Mountain to eat when he awoke for the first time. And as he held the pilfered fruit in his hand, his traitorous ears picked up the steady heart beat and gentle breathing of Wukong fast asleep in his hut.

His mind screamed at him to leave and yet before he knew it he found himself standing beside Wukong's bed and looking at him one last time. Numbly he thought to himself that he must have finally lost his mind because, despite everything that had happened, in that moment, his heart ached with a love he'd never managed to kill.

He took a shaky breath and quietly leaned over to place a tender kiss on his forehead before resting his head against his for a moment longer.

He stood and whispered, "We'll meet again. I know myself well enough to know we will."

He left before he could do anything more foolish than he already had.

Everything was ready, he had done everything he could to give himself the best start when he began anew. All he had to do was perform the spell.

He looked at himself one last time in the mirror - glamours and clothes off - and he saw a body worn down by life. He brought a hand to his blind eye, it and all his other scars would be gone. The slate truly wiped clean.

He moved away and laid a hand on the letter he'd left for himself, skimming over even though he knew the entire thing by heart. He was stalling. But he thought he could allow himself these last moments of weakness.

Eventually he brought himself to the bed and lay down, the spell in his hand.

Perhaps he should have prepared a eulogy but it was too late now. He laughed as tears escaped his eye, "Here lies the Six-Eared Macaque... May he who rises in his wake live a better life than he did..."

He closed his eye and the spell started to hum in his hands, he managed what felt like it could have been a smile.

"Don't mess this up, kid... You've got everything to live for."

[seyaryminamoto]

hello! I really like your meta about Zuko, and I'm so glad that I finally found a person who also thinks that Zuko in book 3 is a much worse person than he was in the book 1. I always thought that something was wrong with me, since literally no one sees this obvious fact for me! But I would like to ask you: What do you think about Katara in book 3? the fact is that she was my favorite character in books 1 and 2, and the way she was written in book 3 upset me a lot. it seems to me that they spoiled her character, but I can't explain why. Please share your thoughts!

Glad you've enjoyed my extensive meta on the fandom's fave, haha. I did write a lot about him, always nice to know my thoughts on the subject are still deemed relevant.

As for Katara... well, I have thoughts on her, too. My experience with her character is quite similar to yours, I'd say, because I too felt a lot better about her character in the first two seasons of the show compared with the third. I don't usually give this a ton of thought, but after your ask, I figured I'd try and figure out what exactly went down with her that made people like us feel so uncomfortable with Katara's portrayal at multiple points of Book 3...

For starters, I'll say I vibed with Katara a lot when I started the show for reasons beyond her being a great character or being written wonderfully: she could very well have been written mediocrely and I would have loved her anyway simply because I ran away from anime to ATLA in an era where anime kept shoehorning incest undertones into every sibling relationship, even in shows that didn't have that as a core subject. It happened at least twice that I can remember, I kept seeing people raving about shows where it WAS the core of it (I still do not understand the Oreimo deal, like, the minute I read that show's title I puked in my mouth and knew I'd never watch it), and I just needed... safety from that concept, I guess?

So when I went into ATLA, and the first sibling relationship you're exposed to is Sokka and Katara, two siblings who very much act like siblings? I was thriving. It was thrilling. I felt so refreshed that I think I didn't care much about the flaws of Book 1, despite my inability to sense direction for most of it, because thank the universe, it was a sibling relationship that made sense to me!

With that as an opening, I'd say that, initially, I thought Katara was fine for most of Book 1. In Book 2? She fell off the radar for me a bit simply because other characters are introduced that just appeal to me so much more than she does. I vibe better with characters like Azula, who tend to be the type of female character I just LOVE, and with characters like Toph, she's a tomboy, I was a tomboy (... was? x'D maybe I shouldn't use past tense...), so I gravitated much more towards those two by no real fault of Katara's core personality traits. Back in Book 1, there aren't as many main characters, so you don't have a lot of variety to choose faves from. It's not that strange, I think, that once the cast broadens, people's interest in certain characters can scatter too.

But then Book 3 happened, and I just couldn't enjoy Katara outside of episodes where she wasn't that important. The Katara-centric episode of Book 3 stand among my least favorite episodes of ATLA altogether, and among the least likely episodes I'd ever want to rewatch. I literally skipped over The Painted Lady in my first rewatches of the show, every bit as much as I skipped The Great Divide or Avatar Day, both of which annoy me a lot in the first two seasons. The Puppetmaster? Not even close to being an episode I could enjoy. Even the Runaway, that's supposed to be Toph-centric, ends up making me count down the minutes for it to end and I'm not even going to get started on The Southern Raiders and the absolute can of worms that episode is...

So, with all this being said, if we peel this particular cabbage open little by little...

After mulling it over, I've grown to suspect that Katara has major inconsistency issues since day one that most people don't particularly like to acknowledge, and that flew over most of our heads from the beginning of the show. She's pretty much portrayed to us as an empath, someone who has so much heart that she can't help but feel everyone's pain and suffer with them all the time. The fandom 100% acts like that's who she is (while also obsessively adultifying her unnecessarily, and forcing her into the mom!friend role, which... we'll talk about that later)

But this is also the same character who, when her brother banished Aang from the Southern Water Tribe as early as in episode 2, protested in a very particular way once Aang was gone. Which one of these statements sound more accurate to Katara's character, and a suitable protest for her to proclaim upon witnessing this injustice against Aang?

"Aang is alone! How could you send him away on his own? He could be in danger, Sokka! He's just a kid!"

"The Air Nomads are gone, Sokka! Where do you think he'll go? He doesn't have a home to go back to and you just sent him away!"

"You happy now? There goes my one chance at becoming a waterbender!"

If you ask the fandom? They'll most likely think that her reaction was either #1 or #2.

Surprise surprise: it was actually #3

I'm not saying she didn't show empathy towards Aang while Sokka was ranting at him, because she did. I'm not saying she wasn't willing to be banished along with Aang until Sokka asks if she'd choose pretty much a total stranger over their family and tribe, because she was. She absolutely did all those things.

... So why would she focus only on how he represented her one chance at becoming a waterbender once Aang is gone?

This feels off to me. I've never particularly liked that line. And you could absolutely say that Katara has every right to be mad at losing her chance to reclaim an aspect of her culture that she cannot connect to, but the way it was framed here? It absolutely makes Katara look more selfish than she actually was. The wording is not good. The show doesn't emphasize, at this point, that bending is such a core and crucial part of their culture and that Katara feels a major responsibility in being the ONLY person in the South Pole that can keep it alive. So it just comes off as a child's tantrum. Sokka's concerns were 100% valid too, even if he went about them while being a jerk (he is, indeed, an older brother...). He wasn't even wrong in the end about how dangerous Aang was to their tribe, since Aang's mishap with Katara on the ship gives away his position to Zuko, and it results in Zuko ramming a huge ship into their home and nearly killing people in the process. But you DON'T see the show fully framing it as though Katara and Aang did something wrong -- it was an honest mistake. We know it was. Sokka is framed as unreasonable for being so paranoid even though later events in the very episode prove he wasn't.

And that's... the crux of the issue with Katara's writing. If you ask me.

There are far too many instances where Katara makes mistakes that she's not held accountable for, that she doesn't apologize for, that run against the core logic and principles of her character and they either get shrugged off or overlooked. There are far too many situations where she acts out, and is a jerk at her jerk of a brother, even unprompted on occasion, and it's supposed to just be funny. One particularly stood out to me when I revisited it a few years ago, I can't really remember what for (maybe when I was writing Jeong Jeong's arc in Gladiator and I had a look at the fishing village...?), but it's the famous flashback episode in Book 1: The Storm.

The scene in question is... humorous. Supposedly. Katara is trying to buy fruit in the market but then realizes they have no money to pay for it. Not only does Katara piss off the vendor, but the vendor actually takes her rage out on Sokka once she realizes these kids won't give her any business: he gets kicked in the rear, as the transcript's description says. No one protests the woman's violent reaction, not even Sokka. Katara most certainly doesn't do it. But that's not all there is to it: Sokka doesn't hold what happened with the fruit vendor against Katara, they have a conversation on how they have no money and no food... and Katara offers him the golden ticket solution to their problems:

"You could get a job, smart guy."

Am I too feminist for thinking it's insane that Katara expects her brother alone to get the job? That she's not saying the THREE of them should get jobs? She and Aang are BENDERS! That's an asset most people aren't likely to find in any would-be employees in the central Earth Kingdom! So... wouldn't it be logical for all of them to do it? But no, instead, Sokka alone has to get the job?

And yes, I know, Sokka is the provider, Sokka is the protector, Sokka would do ANYTHING for his sister and the people he loves: you ask the fandom, though, and that's Katara instead of him. Moments like these simply do not exist in the fandom's eyes and, if they do, they're just excusable because Sokka is boring/weird/annoying/insert-demeaning-nonsense-here and Katara is a queen who can do whatever she wants.

Then, the consequences arrive once Sokka gets a dangerous job on a fishing boat and nearly gets killed in a storm. Aang is the one who shows concern about the potential storm when the fisherman's wife brings it up: from all I can see in the transcript, there's nothing from Katara. Sokka says they told him to get a job, so that's what he's doing, and there's no manifestation of concern from either of them about maybe joining him on this fishing trip to ensure he's safe. Instead, Aang is haunted by his past and Katara goes with him when he leaves, which, yes, is very important for context on the Air Nomads and Aang's life... and yet we don't really NEED for this scene to be Katara and Aang only. It could've included Sokka too. The plot of the second half of the episode would change? Likely. They could've come up with another idea, and not shown us a Katara who doesn't show concern for her brother's safety or any remorse when her unfair demands or expectations from him could result in catastrophic outcomes :') yes, she worries about Sokka's safety once the storm hits, but there's no sign of her feeling responsible for Sokka being out in the storm at all. No apology. Which is ironic, because Zuko apologizes to Iroh in that very same episode, hence, an apology from Katara to her brother could have mirrored that side of the story well, and they REALLY loved doing Zuko-Gaang parallel scenes like that, so it would have fit perfectly! Didn't happen, though.

Point being... Katara's compassion and empathy are not absolute. It's important to keep in mind is that they don't need to be! But precisely because she falters with them in moments where she REALLY shouldn't, with people as important to her as her own brother? It becomes very difficult to believe that she's the empath the fandom is convinced she is, and that the show's narrative tries to push her as.

The real reason why her failure to show compassion to Sokka in "humorous" situations feels so unnerving isn't because she's a typical little sister who takes her brother for granted (which is a perfectly logical/believable behavior!): it's because there are no consequences for it. Maybe at some point or another there were? But I for one can't remember many instances where Katara failed Sokka and it was framed as her fault and her responsibility. Let's look at other Book 1 instances that exemplify what I mean:

She freezes him to the deck of Zuko's ship, which puts Sokka in MAJOR danger, and she just tells him to hurry up as if it weren't her fault that he's frozen in the first place. We don't even see her making efforts to thaw him out of there when she IS the waterbender so it seems logical that she should be able to help with that (and if she's too inexperienced to do it? The least she can do to help her brother out of a dangerous situation is to TRY???). But apparently it's funny that she doesn't help him when it's her fault! So this is fine!

She endangers the entire group over the waterbending scroll, which, of course, the pirates had no right to have anyway and it's reasonable that she'd want it for herself... but she antagonized a group of fully adult, dangerous, potential murderous pirates, against Sokka's constant warnings that they shouldn't pick that particular fight. As far as I can remember? Her apologies on that episode are exclusively about how she hurt Aang's feelings by being jealous over his greater talents as a bender. Basically, nothing for Sokka, no apology for not listening to him about danger, making it worse when the very final moment features Katara proudly telling her brother that she won't steal things... unless it's from pirates. So lesson not learned because it's funny, again, to never acknowledge that Sokka has a point.

She actually cares about Sokka's fate in Jet! But the thing is... the narrative doesn't frame that as Katara's fault. Because it's not. Jet made his choices and he did awful things and he captured Sokka, lied and gaslit everyone, because he had a goal to fulfill and he used Katara to make that happen. As angry and upset as Katara is, it's not exactly shown that Katara is sorry for having trusted Jet when Sokka could have ended up paying a deadly price for it. She's angry at the betrayal, even in Book 2 it's constantly framed as though Katara is upset at him as an ex-girlfriend would be upset at her ex-boyfriend for lying to her rather than, you know, being pissed at him for nearly killing her brother + an entire village. My point is, the narrative framing never holds her responsible for Jet's choices. Which, again, she's not. But she IS responsible for her own choices... and one of those choices was disregarding Sokka's warnings about Jet. THAT was her fault, and her responsibility. She jumped to conclusions and assumed that Sokka was bitter and jealous that Jet was the charming cool leader Sokka could never be. There were no apologies to Sokka over that, either.

I could go on, and on, and on. The truth is, I bring all this up to show with solid evidence that Katara's writing was always a little... unstable. Weird. Disconnected from logic in many regards, I'd say. It's not logical/compatible to tell us that this character has the BIGGEST heart of the entire cast when she fails to show that heart to none other than her own brother, who is inarguably the person who she knows best and with whom she should share the closest relationship, even as her friendship with Aang grows and thrives. That makes no sense, thematically speaking.

Is it meant to be comedic? Yes, every bit as much as Iroh sexually harassing June was done for comedy's sake. That's not an excuse for characters behaving in ways that are thematically contrary to what they're supposed to be portraying... and along with that? No excuse for them facing zero consequences for that behavior. Which is, in fact, my main issue with these flaws from Katara: I have no issue with the writing choices in the scenes I listed just now! I take issue, however, with the lack of follow-up and consequences that you can BET, 100%, would have befallen Sokka if it had been him instead of Katara acting that way. He faced consequences even for things he didn't do, for comedy's sake: he wouldn't have gotten away with disregarding Katara's safety as often as Katara did with him, no chance at all.

Ultimately, these scenes in Book 1 are kind of ignorable in the larger scheme of things (or at least, that's how the fandom has always acted). Not a lot of people take any of this as major proof of characterization for Katara. You won't see a lot of fic writers showing her acting like this. Canon, though, often would go down this route for funsies, and the comics certainly did it plenty too, that I can remember. Part of the issue here is that, as funny as it is, it also makes Katara feel stale as a character, as does the Sokka-Katara dynamic, at large, because there's no progression for it. That's probably my greatest gripe with the Great Divide, believe it or not: it fakes being an episode where Sokka and Katara are going to be confronted over their conflictive tendencies, and the ONLY potential development in that basically-filler episode SHOULD HAVE BEEN Sokka and Katara learning to be a bit more harmonious and respectful of each other? ... And that's just not what happened at all. The status quo remains exactly the same after that episode, and it continues to be like that until the end of the show.

The real reason why Sokka and Katara are deemed the healthy siblings is because, of course, compared with the other main set of siblings in the show, these two appear to get along wonderfully. But the truth is, their relationship is not as dynamic as it deserved to be. And that's part of why Book 3 ends up failing in ways Book 1 might not have, while having similar flaws: Book 1 is when you're still getting to know these kids, and that's why I find its flaws far more forgivable than anything that comes later. When there's basically no development for that connection at all, Book 3 winds up falling flat with characters like Sokka and Katara and the bond between them.

All this being said... I'm not saying that Katara is terrible in Book 1. I still stand by the fact that I really enjoyed her character in many instances of this season, there absolutely are situations where she sasses Sokka that still make me crack a smile, and genuinely humorous situations that don't paint her in a questionable light over her lack of concern for her brother's safety. Her fight to earn the right to be trained as a waterbender is deeeeeply flawed but it's not her fault, it's more the misogyny of the writers/creators that decided that a betrothal necklace from his past would make Pakku unlearn all his sexism and get over his bullshit right after beating up a girl who was fighting tooth and nail to make him acknowledge her. That he only acknowledges her because he wanted to marry her grandmother is... uh... fuckboi behavior even when he's well over 70 years of age? XD

So, yeah, Book 1 still has my favorite Katara of the entire show even though I REALLY wish she wouldn't get away with things that other characters wouldn't get a pass for (... well... other than Zuko...). I can't enjoy her as much as I enjoy other characters because I really don't like it when characters aren't held accountable for serious mistakes they made.

Moving on to Book 2, though, and leaving behind my greatest gripe with Katara's Book 1 writing (lack of direct consequences/self-reflection on her part), Book 2's biggest sin when it comes to Katara is the beginning of the "mothering" trope. I honestly did not feel motherly vibes from Katara towards anyone in Book 1. Sokka is very often the one playing the responsible role, while Aang and Katara are seeing the world, practicing their bending, doing reckless and fun things. The entire thing about Katara being the mom friend started in Book 2 when she suddenly becomes the epitome of responsibility (well... kinda) when Toph joins the group. She still does sketchy stuff with zero consequences (I'll forever complain about how ice is not cold in this show, the kids she froze to the wall may have been dicks, but freezing someone alive that way should have resulted in serious health repercussions, just as ANY case of freezing someone alive should have, ffs, be it Zuko in Book 1's finale or Azula + Katara in Book 3's...), but once Toph is part of the group, she becomes the cool girl who's "one of the boys", and now Katara is "the mom". This dynamic gets forced into the story pretty much right after Toph joins the group. And after that? It doesn't really change for the better often. There are only a handful of instances where Katara wasn't acting wholesome and comforting and kind and compassionate in Book 2 (... particularly with Sokka, ofc), but the point where her dynamics, even with Aang, start to feel motherly is definitely Book 2.

And this adds to the issue, in the end: Katara's appeal as the main girl in the show is suddenly gone because Toph is here, and she's a way more unique character that the writers definitely were having fun working with, probably more fun than they had with Katara. So they had to find a new niche for her, I'd dare guess. Thus, instead of actually building up an awesome and solid friendship between Katara and Toph, they mostly just clash and collide. Toph is basically the ONLY character who gives Katara grief and isn't framed as in the wrong for it, which is its own set of issues (namely, Toph not being challenged enough by the narrative, which stunts her character growth), but among many things, we suddenly get shown that Katara is a girly girl who likes makeup and she ropes Toph into this when nothing we've seen so far suggests that Toph would be comfortable with that. Katara pushes her into doing things because they're the "girls of the group"... and it doesn't often look like Toph's feelings on anything are important when Katara is pushing her around for whatever purpose. I'm not saying Toph hated the spa day, she certainly had fun eventually, but even when the comics made a "Katara and Toph's day out" story, where Toph got to choose what to do for once, the story devolved into Katara's show anyway, and things concluded with Toph deciding they're better off doing girly things together when they want to hang out because Katara is just too intense for the things Toph would like to do.

This isn't even in the show, but it's basically a response to Tales of Ba Sing Se to try and even out Katara and Toph's one-sided dynamic, where Katara calls the shots of their entertainment... and even then, Toph doesn't really get what she's looking for. But Katara does get that out of Toph because all she wants is a girl to do girly things with and Toph provides that in the end, no matter how much of a tomboy she may be. Toph might just want a friend who loves the things she loves, and who knows, Katara could be that person! But the story never leads her in that direction so we never see that happen. And that's why that particular friendship never really... clicked for me. Their dynamics don't really feel enjoyable to me as they were written in the show, even though they very much could have been.

That's one thing I'll always give ATLA: the character potential and synergy they captured with that cast could be absolutely incredible. Team Avatar is so iconic because they really could work well off each other. A lot of teams in other media just aren't this good (... one of my main reasons to not enjoy Voltron and drop it in season 1 was my absolute failure to find any synergy between those characters, it felt like they all hated each other and I honestly did not enjoy their dynamics in the least), but Aang, Katara and Sokka have great synergy due to their different personalities in Book 1. Same when Toph joins them in Book 2. Zuko ABSOLUTELY could have been better in the group than he was if Book 3 hadn't devolved into the Zuko Woobifying Show by the second half, where the only writing priority was making him friends with everyone, and making them all feel sorry for him and have compassion towards him. But, broken down to his core traits, Zuko's personality would have resulted in solid chemistry with everyone else's if they'd gotten off that agenda anyway! So ultimately, ATLA has a big win in this respect that a lot of TV shows would LOVE to recreate but they simply haven't struck the right kind of balance in character traits.

Hence why the way they wrote Toph and Katara's dynamics kind of feels like a betrayal to me. Those two could have been a lot of fun, they have EVERYTHING it takes to be entertaining characters with not a ton of things in common and yet building a solid friendship that hinges on their differences. I've seen a fair few examples of that kind of dynamic in other media, and it absolutely would be possible with Toph and Katara. It's really unfair that they couldn't capture their dynamics in such a way that both characters would SHINE, rather than constantly resorting to conflicts between them that never seemed to truly be resolved.

So: Toph should not be a problem for Katara. She should enhance her character and doesn't because of writing failures. One of the core failures is "mom friend Katara", of course: there's nothing inherently wrong with Katara stepping up and taking care of people she loves, but there's something very wrong with it when she's suddenly portrayed as this motherly figure when she's doing things that Sokka had been doing just fine in Book 1. Main reason why this is the case? Sokka got dumbed down to full-time class clown for whatever reason in Book 2. While he has good moments, a lot of times they went WAY overboard with making him a source of comedy this season and that, too, contributes to mom friend Katara. Since Sokka is being so meh? We even feel relieved that Katara is there to keep things together because nobody can expect the other three to do it, right? But... Sokka was doing it in Book 1. And there's no real development to explain him NOT doing it anymore once Toph joins in besides "Katara is now the mom friend and Sokka is just here to be funny". It's not organic development: it's forcing tropes that just don't fit. And while Katara's mothering doesn't feel as unpleasant as it could here, it ultimately forces a new interpretation and portrayal of her character that honestly isn't all that interesting, most of all when the other characters are constantly portrayed as "more fun" while she's just here to keep them in line.

It just isn't the same Katara we met in Book 1, and it shows in spades. Book 1 Katara would have been hyped to join Aang and Toph in chaos while Sokka screams at them to behave themselves. Book 2 Katara is the one trying to keep the other three in line, and there's genuinely zero development that led things to that stage. It's not organic storytelling. There's no growth that leads to that, and so, it feels off.

But the core problem of all these flaws in Book 1 and Book 2 is that they roll together and snowball into something far greater that then proceeds to just... disrupt everything we thought we knew or understood about Katara. We've been told she's a kind person above all else, someone who cares about people close to her, someone who embodies hope and strength and love...!

... And then Book 3 starts, and we're actually facing a Katara who shifts into a wholly different person with the speed of a whiplash that we're left not knowing who tf this is anymore.

"Mom friend Katara" absolutely comes back in Book 3, why lie? She takes care of people, she tries to provide, she tries to be nice and sweet and then also enforces discipline on Toph (particularly) when she's being irresponsible!

But the reason why The Runaway is such an unpleasant episode is because Katara's behavior is dialed up to a thousand, and the conflict between her and Toph feels WAY too similar to what it was when they were barely getting to know each other in The Chase. Why are they STILL clashing over such things? There are occasional glimpses of friendliness there in The Runaway, sure! But they're not so strong that you actually feel like that friendship supersedes their conflicts and their propensity to bicker and argue and hurt each other. Toph blatantly calls her out on her mothering and fully canonically confirms that Katara is The Mom Friend™. Where Toph is annoyed but eventually complies with doing what Katara wants to do in Tales of Ba Sing Se, this time Katara makes a huuuuuge fuss over Toph's misbehavior and her scamming Fire Nation people. And you could argue that Toph has every right to do it, or that Katara is right to be worried, just like Sokka used to worry about such things in Book 1...

But what we get is a stale dynamic that repeats the same problems we saw in Book 2, as well as Katara coming off as rather hypocritical because she, too, did dangerous shit and picked dangerous fights where she shouldn't have, and ignored everyone who told her not to do it: she gave Toph that kind of grief over things Katara was willing to do back when Toph wasn't in the group (see the pirates thing), and she will try to stop Toph from having fun on her own terms when nobody has ever tried to stop Katara from doing that in hers. Of course, any Katara advocate would read this and go "you're missing the point: Katara was sad and upset that she was being LEFT OUT! That's why she was so mad about this!" Then the irony of the matter is that this argument STILL reflects poorly on Katara. She gave her friend a tough time, called her a wild child and a crazy person, went through her personal belongings because "she could tell Toph was hiding something from her", so she fully disregarded Toph's privacy... all because she couldn't say "Wait, you guys went scamming Fire Nation people? Damn, why didn't you wait for me! I would've gone too!", and there you go, problem solved! Katara's not left out anymore!

Yes, of course, that's not how it WORKS, people can struggle to identify what they feel...!

... And now it's my turn to say that that's not the point.

The point is that Katara said and did hurtful things to her friend. Things she eventually regrets, yes, but that she didn't have to do at all. This is the same person who fed Appa a bunch of food that made it look like he was sick, all be it to keep the group from leaving the Jang Hui river village so she could go out of her way to heal the injured and sick without telling anyone what she was doing. That, too, was a choice she made with no concern regarding how the rest of her team might feel about it: was she doing something nice? Sure! But it's not fundamentally different from Toph doing whatever she wants with zero regard as to Katara's feelings on the matter. Katara KNEW she was stalling their journey and that Sokka wanted them to move on: she didn't care about his feelings or priorities, and the story eventually frames Katara as being in the right for feeling that way. Here, she's in the inverse scenario, only it's with Toph rather than Sokka, and instead of realizing that she, too, has made choices that were irresponsible/dangerous/risky and STILL went all out with them, down to fighting whoever opposed her choices? Katara just doubles down until she, again, breaches boundaries and overhears Toph and Sokka's conversation, WHICH IS ANOTHER CAN OF WORMS DUE TO THE SOUTHERN RAIDERS FOLLOW-UP...

The thing is, Katara as a mom friend is not even a good thing. It's not conducive to fun or interesting storytelling, not in Book 2, not now. It doesn't make Katara a more interesting and dynamic character. The way she's portrayed isn't so she looks tragic for taking this role, it's all about forcing these kids into tropes that don't necessarily add up to who they have been so far. Katara's mom friend status is NOT treated with any compassion. It's not handled as a sore, difficult subject outside of the ONE conversation Sokka has with Toph that Katara overhears. And it's not centered on Katara's tragedy, on how she overcompensates for her mother's absence, it's centered on Sokka accepting her as a motherly person and encouraging Toph to do the same thing. The people who saw further depth in it probably haven't looked at the script itself in a long time: you CAN see more to it, but that's not the point of the scene. That's not where it's going. And the fact that such a tragic situation is what conduces Katara to take up the mom friend role actively makes it look like... she shouldn't have it. Why would she be the mom friend if she's just overcompensating for Kya's death? If she's taking up responsibility by thinking that no one else will (a blatant lie because, again, in Book 1 there's NO SIGN of this behavior and it's Sokka who's in a role of responsibility compared to her), it suggests that EVERYONE ELSE ought to step up and stop "relying" (and Sokka very much uses that word) on Katara being the mom friend. It's not a healthy thing. It's a coping mechanism that seems to be actively damaging Katara: and the story doesn't acknowledge it that way.

So... "mom friend Katara", dialed up to a thousand in Book 3, absolutely has a connection with why her character loses its sheen by this point in the story. There's no attempt to deconstruct this coping mechanism by Katara. No indication from the rest of the team that maybe Katara should get to be a kid just like them and stop being so uptight (even though VERY often she's not that uptight but the show very much tries to pretend she is). It's Katara's initiative to do a scam, it's not Toph or Sokka or Aang who think she needs to join in on the fun, she basically inserts herself in it. So basically, those three take the route of saying "that's what she's like, we just gotta bear with it", instead of actually helping her. If we'd seen that? Mom friend Katara would actually be a fun element to witness deconstructed by the story. And I'm not blaming either Katara or the other three for this:

This is EMINENTLY a writing problem.

Mom friend Katara is not a good trope. It could be if the point was to help her break free from it. It's not. It's simply weak writing that can't handle two girls with proactive, aggressive personalities and a ton of agency, a lack of creativity in realizing how much potential there could be in making Toph and Katara the absolute best of friends. It's seriously a disservice to the two of them that this trope literally blooms over Toph joining the show and then NEVER gets resolved or chased away. And when you have characters like Sokka or Aang kind of joining the bandwagon of "yeah, Katara's a mom!" when the two of them traveled with her in Book 1 and she WASN'T that at all? It makes matters infinitely worse.

So, if you ask me? This is the first thing that makes Katara feel more unpleasant than ever before in Book 3.

The second thing is even worse.

We return to accountability, as well as to illogical flow of thought when it comes to the writing of Katara: in Book 1, we see a hopeful girl who never speaks ill of her father or betrays any manner of displeasure or distrust towards him. No sign of her being conflicted by what Hakoda is doing: the focus is entirely on Sokka's feelings on the matter once it finally comes up in Bato of the Water Tribe, and Katara is a secondary matter, if even that.

This would be fine if Hakoda hadn't come up at all as a subject throughout Books 1 and 2. If Katara had never had the potential opportunity to see her father in any of these instances and had backed out from them for bigger reasons than... plot reasons.

For reference: she's excited, just as Sokka is, when Bato says he can bring the kids to meet their dad again. They're HYPED. We see no sign of Katara being upset at Hakoda for leaving at this point. The only portrayed reason why she and Sokka decide not to go see Hakoda is because they think Aang needs them more and they decide to forgive him for hiding the map. Katara, from the get-go, is not as angry at Aang for hiding the map as Sokka is. Clearly, Sokka wants to see Hakoda far more intensely than Katara does: even so, there's no sign anywhere here that implies that Katara harbors resentment or dissatisfaction towards Hakoda.

Book 2 gives us a similar situation: Katara declines going to see Hakoda and offers to be the one who stays in Ba Sing Se so Sokka can go see Hakoda himself. Sokka is soooo thrilled and thanks her and calls her the best sister ever and Katara very much says she is, indeed, the best. Which she's allowed to, worth noting, I'm not saying her reaction to Sokka's praises was bad, it's actually funny: but what I AM saying is that she knows how much this matters to Sokka and that's why she makes the offer she does. It's also VERY convenient! Because logic dictates that, if Sokka stays behind, he realizes the Kyoshi Warriors aren't themselves far faster than Katara does (even though, to be fair, Katara didn't really have much time to realize it at all), and we wouldn't have Aang suffering over Katara's imprisonment because the one in chains would be Sokka and then Aang might just go "oh okay it's just Sokka, I can go cosmic if it's not Katara"

... yeah I'm being sarcastic I actually don't think Aang wouldn't have saved Sokka, but they very clearly had Katara stay behind first and foremost for this specific purpose...

But Katara's acknowledgement that this is a good thing for her brother makes you REALLY wonder how much of a secret grudge she was supposed to feel towards her father at this stage of the story. The truth, in my opinion? She wasn't actually supposed to resent Hakoda as she did, let alone quite so harshly.

My sister personally told me that she thought Katara's anger at Hakoda was a fine storytelling choice when I told her I didn't like it. She told me Katara herself most likely didn't realize how hurt she had been by her father's leaving, that it wasn't until she was around Hakoda again that she understood she resented him at all, and that she had a lot more pent-up rage and frustrations than she had EVER acknowledged, and they burst out frequently in Book 3. Which, you know, is one possible explanation that tries to make this whole thing more palatable. From a human standpoint? This is valid.

... From a writing point? Not so much.

A Katara who struggles to understand her heart (which... is odd, tbh. As far as they portray her, Katara tends to know exactly what she's feeling, why she's feeling it, and she acts on her emotions rather than brains more often than not) would be portrayed as confused over her own rage at Hakoda. She would not have been written as a snappy teenager who hates her dad. She would have snapped at him and then apologized by reflex, unsure of what's come over her. We would see Sokka trying to mediate between them too, probably asking Katara what's her deal, and she would have no idea how to explain it. Katara would be avoiding Hakoda, knowing she loves him, not knowing why she seems to hate him now, afraid of saying things she shouldn't. Every time she snaps at him, she should worry about what she did, she should fear for Hakoda's feelings, she should reflect on what's going on inside her heart...!

... But that doesn't happen. And that knocks SO HARD on the concept of empath/compassionate Katara that it basically turns her into a whole different person.

As I've said countless times so far: it's not about Katara being perfect. I don't WANT her to be perfect. But I DO want the show to acknowledge that she's not. I want the flaws to REALLY read as flaws. I want other characters to react to those mishaps on Katara's part, and I want HER to reflect on what she's doing and realize she's messing up, just as she does when she hurts Aang's feelings in the Waterbending Scroll, which is most likely the best situation where Katara actually owns up to the exact mistake she made and feels genuine, palpable, obvious remorse for it. But when you feature Katara lashing out at Hakoda, and everyone just staying quiet because "uuuuh, awkwaaaard...", it feels off. Aang asks Katara, outright, what's her problem with her dad! And Katara goes "What? What problem?" She's acting like she's not even aware of the fact that her behavior is out of place, basically gaslighting Aang into pretending that she didn't do anything rude or mean to Hakoda. Aang literally saw it with his own eyes and is the ONLY person to bring it up.

To make matters worse? Katara has been with Hakoda for WEEKS. It's not like they just crossed paths two seconds before Aang opened his eyes. The implication is that she's been behaving like this, or her behavior has been deteriorating towards Hakoda with no one worrying about it or trying to make her reason with it. for that long. Sokka didn't do anything. Hakoda just took the teenage rants and left her alone because that's what she wants. And when the one person brings up that she's not acting like herself? Katara pretends nothing's wrong and acts like everything's fine and she's not acting any differently from herself. Whether she actually is just lying to Aang or ALSO lying to herself is a matter of debate... but what it suggests is she's unwilling to confront the gravity of her choices and how she can be hurting her father with them.

This is NOT to say that Katara has no right to be angry about Hakoda abandoning her in the Tribe. She has every right to be upset and feel forsaken. Their mother died, and Hakoda left with all the men of the tribe, and Sokka was left behind, tasked to protect everyone, and Katara apparently felt responsible for the whole village too: as valid as Hakoda's quest to fight in the war might be, it's not out of this world for Katara to harbor frustrations and resentment over what happened.

What IS out of this world, and particularly, not appropriate to her character, is that her way to convey those feelings was something she gave herself to, completely, only to reason with it once Aang was missing so that the episode would conflagrate her problems with Aang and Hakoda into the same thing.

This is basically a dark expansion of what we've seen in Katara's treatment of Sokka since Book 1: where it was typically "humorous" when she was a jerk to him and paid no price for it, this time it's not humorous. This time, you're supposed to see her being a jerk and then go "aaaaw, poor dear," even if you're not supposed to get mad at Hakoda because he is very much a decent dad. The show was trying to have its cake and eat it too with this situation, because Katara DOESN'T apologize to Hakoda for being unfair to him: HAKODA APOLOGIZES TO HER. Hakoda acknowledges the pain he caused Katara and the damage his leaving has wrought upon his children by apologizing and explaining how much he missed them... but Katara does not acknowledge the pain she inflicted on her father by acting out when he wasn't doing anything wrong. Is this teenager behavior? You could chalk it down to that, but that's precisely why teenagers can be a pain in the ass! And that's very much how Katara is being portrayed if she's unwilling to acknowledge she acted out and hurt someone she loves!

Her problems and resentment towards Hakoda magically go away after that single conversation. After this? She loves him. No hard feelings left. If her problems with Hakoda were this deep and difficult to navigate and work through, either she bottled them up in the rest of the show and stopped them from affecting her father... or she just got over it that quickly. Which would be very unrealistic because Hakoda apologizing for leaving doesn't change the damage Katara suffered through because he was gone. A single apology doesn't fix everything that people read into Katara's deep anguish in this scene and episode. And yet that's very much how the show portrays it: Katara is 100% fine in every single other interaction with Hakoda she gets past the first episode of Book 3. Does that make sense? Is that good writing? No, actually: it's literally digging up a problem, making it up last minute with zero lead-up to it, where the ONLY way to read "lead-up" is to pretend that Katara always had ulterior motives to avoid going to see Hakoda, even though we NEVER were shown that she was hiding anything, something that could be VERY easily shown in the story if they'd always had this in mind. The truth is that they didn't. They made it up for this episode, forced it in there, didn't even write it right because nobody reacts to Katara's behavior reasonably except Aang, and she gets away with it without even having to apologize. That's... not good form for any character, let alone Miss Responsibility and Empathy, is it?

This is why it's such a problem that Katara acted as she did towards her father. It's not because this is an unthinkable flaw: it's because there's very much no lead-up to it, kind of like there's none with Korrasami's big reveal in LOK's finale. It's because there's no follow-up to it either. It's because we don't see Katara living up to her supposed core character traits, where she should have a realization that her choices and actions and behavior have hurt someone else, someone she cares about. None of that happens.

And I will say: it's different when it comes to her clashes with Zuko and her reactions to him in the second half of Book 3. This is basically the MAIN thing the fandom gives her grief for and I hate them for it: she has every right and reason and justification to show no empathy or compassion towards a person who, as far as she could tell, took advantage of her compassion in Ba Sing Se, of Aang's compassion frequently across Book 1, and paid them back for all of it by joining forces with Azula and showing no concern to help Aang when Azula almost killed him. I am no fan of Iroh's... but Iroh jumped in to help Katara and Aang escape, at risk of being captured. Zuko stood beside Azula and did NOTHING to help those two leave. He showed zero concern for Aang's survival. He saw his sister potentially murder someone and had ZERO REACTION. So, no offense but full offense: Katara's unwillingness to trust Zuko is JUSTIFIED. Not only is it justified? It's CORRECT. It's the only writing choice that makes sense. Sokka getting over it relatively quickly feels off to me, no matter if the Boiling Rock adventure isn't as bad as others might be. Aang not holding a grudge for too long kind of fits because it is Aang... but Katara being that mad at Zuko? That's 100% fine. It fits. It works. And anyone pretending that what I said about Hakoda applies to how she treated Zuko is just completely biased in Zuko's favor.

Katara and Zuko do not have a secret magical powerful soulmates bond in canon. Their one instance of bonding comes after multiple instances of the exact opposite thing. Katara and Sokka were 100% down for leaving Zuko to freeze to death in the North Pole, and the ONLY reason why Zuko survives is because Aang can't let that happen to him. It's AANG'S compassion that saved Zuko. Katara felt none, AND SHE DIDN'T HAVE TO FEEL ANY. Let's not forget that!

Moving on to Book 2, Katara actually makes her first offer of kindness to Zuko and Iroh in the Chase when she offers to heal Iroh after Azula's attack. Zuko's reaction is to lash out violently and yell at her to leave: who, exactly, would feel inclined to think this poor beautiful sad boy just needs love when you OFFER HIM kindness and his reaction is, in a manner of speaking "go fuck yourself I'll handle this on my own"? And it's worth bringing it up because it feels like the fandom is hilariously misled into thinking the Gaang magically knows what Zuko is up to and how he's growing and evolving, as if they were part of the audience: they're not. The last time Katara saw Zuko before Ba Sing Se is literally when Zuko refuses her help. We're also talking about Fire Nation people: Katara has every right and every reason to believe that Zuko is refusing her help, not out of personal, internal strife he's dealing with and has no idea how to handle... she very much can read this as "inferior Water Tribe peasant, you will not heal my uncle with your wretched waterbending!" Because... let's be real, that's what Zuko looked like to Katara across Book 1. She has no real reason to think he's any better or different from that until their catacombs scene...

... And he stabs her in the back and joins Azula there. Right after "bonding" with her.

So let's be VERY clear on that respect: Katara has no real reason to forgive Zuko. She has no real reason to feel empathy outside of the show constantly trying to push that she's kind and compassionate with no boundaries, even if she forsakes that kindness and compassion at random whenever the plot requires it. But her death threats to Zuko? They're completely fine by me. I'd be pissed if she had acted any differently, and if anything I hate how easy Zuko had it to befriend everyone but Katara.

... Not to say I'm happy with how he befriended Katara either, but anyway...

As this isn't Zuko meta, we're not going to get into the true core glaring issues in The Southern Raiders, because ultimately, that episode paints Zuko in a disgusting light that his fans are constantly gaslighting themselves about. He was not beinga heroic good dude helping someone he connected profoundly with. His behavior leaves so much to be desired and proves he hasn't unlearned a lot of toxic things he had internalized. He didn't unlearn them in this episode, either. But the GREATEST sin Zuko commits in this episode, without a doubt, is bringing Katara on a journey that ultimately did NOTHING for her. The only person benefitting from it was Zuko himself. I've seen people pretend that Katara finally found closure: she did not do such thing. She learned what kind of scum killed her mother, but she did not forgive him nor did she kill him. Closure would mean peace. Katara did not find peace with the situation. She's shown troubled, sitting at that pier, miserable, when Aang talks with her, she's STILL angry. That's not closure. It never was.

What it was, however, was the journey where Katara thanked Zuko and forgave him because..! Uh... because...

... Why, exactly, did Katara forgive Zuko here?

He brought her to her mother's killer: she found no closure from it. In fact, she learned the VERY disturbing truth that she hadn't realized so far: HER MOTHER DIED SPECIFICALLY TO SAVE HER. Her mother sacrificed herself for Katara's sake. She CANNOT find peace with this reality in a single afternoon because holy shit, who would? Katara KNEW her mother had died. It's not until Yon Rha tells her what happened that she understands what happened in the igloo. Katara herself, her waterbending skills, and the target she painted on her own back because of something 100% out of her control, something that is NOT evil and that the Fire Nation was hellbent on destroying, are the reasons why Kya was murdered. This is DISTURBING SHIT to deal with. And the show completely sidelines this revelation and the dark impact it could have on Katara, which, seriously, is HUGE, way worse than what happened with Hakoda, because it very much could have triggered a profound self-hatred by Katara towards her own skills because how tf could her bending cause her mother's death?! Not to mention the obvious: who was that source? Who told the Southern Raiders that there was a waterbender? Who the hell is responsible, beyond the Fire Nation, for her mother's death?

There's A LOT to unpack here.

And none of it matters because Katara is just supposed to forgive Zuko for exacerbating and worsening her trauma regarding her mother's death :') funny how that works.

This IS the point where Katara should make a display of darker sides of herself that she didn't know or understand. THIS is where Katara turning dark like Aang did after Appa vanished would make PERFECT sense. With this revelation about Kya that's beyond disturbing: not with Hakoda... and certainly not with Sokka.

The cusp of Katara's worst is, by far, her behavior with her brother in the Southern Raiders. I know a million excuses have been made for this moment: my problem is NOT the fact that she lashed out at him as she did and said something DEEPLY hurtful. It's the fact that KNOWING, SEEING HE'S IN PAIN...

... does not matter to her one bit.

Instead of a trite scene with Zuko spouting shit he does NOT mean (aka "violence wasn't the answer... but lol go kill my father okay??"), we deserved a scene with Katara and Sokka talking this out. People pretend it's fine as it is: it's not. Katara has spent the ENTIRE show disregarding her brother's feelings in a myriad of ways: this time, it was way more painful and way more hurtful and SHE KNOWS IT. It's not funny. She's not amused. She's not being a shithead little sister. She's ANGRY. She's UPSET. She has every right to be! What she DOESN'T have a right to do is hurt her brother DELIBERATELY and then escape every consequence from doing that.

There's very much no way to spin that moment into making Katara a decent sister. There's no way she remains true to her core values of being empathetic, kind and wholesome when she will insidiously, vindictively hurt her brother this way. And what I said earlier about her overhearing Toph and Sokka in the Runaway? It actually gets a follow-up in this scene: Katara telling Sokka that he didn't love Kya as she did is basically her WEAPONIZING the information that was NOT meant for her as her alleged evidence that Sokka didn't care about Kya as much as she did. As if his inability to retrieve Kya's memory was NOT a manifestation of trauma, as if it were something he's FINE with! He's not! How guilty must he feel for that? Does that matter to Katara at all? Why... nope. Because all that matters at that point is her own rage, her own feelings, her own fury. Which is, then, entirely against the character we've been told she is.

The lack of apology or follow-up to this horrible moment will never stop being one of the absolute biggest misfires in one of the WORST written episodes of this show. Yes, I said it. The more I ponder The Southern Raiders, the more I realize it's an immensely flawed speedrun to establish a friendship that simply doesn't add up. Katara and Zuko becoming friends after this journey requires some wild, absurd leaps of imagination that, boiled down to basics, don't make any sense. There's no reason for Katara to decide she'll forgive Zuko after she regains enough clarity. Why does she forgive him? Because he proved he'd rather make her happy than defend his nation anymore? Ironically, at no point does Katara show any appreciation of the fact that Zuko is setting aside his firebending supremacist attitude completely for her sake. So maybe that's not it.

Ah... is it because of how he, and he alone, was ready to help her go on this journey of revenge...?! Why, ironically, the only reason why ONLY Zuko goes on this journey is incredibly artificial and fake: this IS intended as Katara's "field trip" with Zuko. None of the field trips make sense, from a logical standpoint, as duo journeys. I've mentioned it to a few people: Sokka and Zuko could have brought Toph with them to the Boiling Rock, a metal location where her abilities would be VERY useful, used her as a false prisoner and turned her in as a captured ally of the Avatar's, who 100% will bait him into coming here to rescue her so that the Fire Nation can get him next! A cover as strong as that one might actually get them further along on that rescue attempt than what they did in canon. But this CANNOT BE... because it was Sokka's field trip with Zuko so nobody else is invited, even if they're very much not doing anything else (as is the case with Toph). Aang? Why didn't everyone join the firebending discovery with Zuko and Aang? They weren't doing ANYTHING in the Western Air Temple at the time. They very much could have gone with them too. But they don't. And that's exactly why Katara's trip works exactly as it does: it's the solo journey with Katara and Zuko, and the ONLY way to make it work is to show Sokka and Aang completely opposed to the concept of finding Yon Rha. I'm not saying I think Sokka and Aang would have been on board if they're allowed to remain IC... but they could have wanted to go on this trip with Katara regardless of not agreeing with what she wanted to do. Hell, as is OBVIOUS: Kya is Sokka's mom too. His opinions, his feelings on this subject, should matter just as much as Katara's do, and fuck anyone who pretends otherwise. These two are NOT supposed to be the well-known unhealthy siblings Zuko and Azula, who each got one parent in their corner and therefore the other parent treated them like they were worthless or a monster. Hakoda and Kya were parents to BOTH their children, and any narrative or interpretation that attempts to say that ONLY Katara's opinion on Kya matters is immediately ruled out, for me, as absolute bullshit spouted by someone not worth listening to. Point blank.

Also, the fact that Zuko USES Sokka to gain this information about the southern raiders, and then doesn't even extend the chance to Sokka to join them? When Sokka is basically his new best buddy? That... does not make sense. It basically portrays Zuko as a disloyal asshole who takes advantage of his friends for his purposes and tosses them aside, disregarding their feelings whenever it suits him.

So Sokka's treatment at the hands of this episode is just deplorable. Both Zuko and Katara are HORRIBLE to him... but Katara is our focus here, she's actively hurts Sokka and then proceeds to not care. Because that's how she has operated so far, and that's how she always will.

Hence: we have a long, long tradition of Katara not treating Sokka fairly all across the show. The reasons why it's not a fair or balanced relationship at all is because Sokka typically pays the price for being a dick to Katara: either she inflicts the punishment herself, such as when he's disrespectful in the Drill and she smacks him with the slurry, or the narrative inflicts some magical punishment instead that CONSTANTLY proves that Sokka is not allowed to be a dick without facing consequences for it. Does he ALWAYS learn the lesson? Sure he doesn't! But the consequences for it NEVER stop. He doesn't get away with being a jerk to his sister. That's forbidden. But Katara? She's allowed to get away with it every single time! And the reason why it gets worse and worse is because we went from relatively silly/comedic things, in which Katara did not apologize because "it's funny that she didn't apologize", to NOT funny things at all, such as this scene in Southern Raiders. Even just a troubled glance at Sokka, or a slight hesitation after seeing how hurt he is, would be enough for me: there's NOTHING. She doubles down and keeps charging ahead. Zero thoughts or concerns given to her brother.

If this isn't why you have issues with Katara, well, I don't know why it might be the case in your case x'D But I absolutely attest that the combination of "mom friend", "selective compassion particularly when it comes to her brother" and "absolute imperviousness to consequences for her mistakes" are the things that fully caused my initial appreciation of her character to shift into ambivalence and then into full blown dislike once I reached Book 3.

Worth noting: THIS IS A COMPLAINT ABOUT THE SHOW'S WRITING. Boiled down to basics, written by any more competent hands, I don't think Katara would have acted the way she did often, ESPECIALLY in episodes like The Awakening or The Southern Raiders. I categorically refuse to write Katara in my stories as someone who gets free passes for EVERYTHING she does. I also refuse to portray her as the mom friend, particularly in Gladiator. There's a lot of depth you can give this character! So much you can do, so much worth exploring... and canon just settled for stunting her and then only bringing her out to play in ways that make her unpleasant, not particularly bright and extremely resistant to character development even after allegedly learning lessons (see how her initial behavior around Hama, who shows red flags often, isn't all that different from how it was with Jet? There's only a handful of moments where it looks like Katara MIGHT be wary, and yet they're quickly overcome by her excitement, which Hama manipulates in her favor until she does the bloodbending reveal). So I'm NOT saying Katara had no potential... but I am saying the show itself failed her, big time, because of how she was written. A quick glance through the transcript of the Puppetmaster to confirm my memories that Katara shows no sign of concern over Hama when Sokka finds her suspicious reveals that, after Hama shows them her comb and that she's from the Southern Water Tribe, Sokka, and Sokka alone, apologizes for suspecting her of being sketchy. Nothing from Aang, even though he was part of it too. Nothing from Toph, either. And certainly nothing from Katara. Only Sokka apologizes. As usual.

So... what does this tell you? What does this tell any of us? That Katara's development is... erratic, at best. That it's not linear isn't a bad thing, but that it contradicts itself non-stop, that her core traits come and go willy-nilly as the plot demands it, that her motivations to do things (like forgiving Zuko) don't add up to her experiences or to any lead-up we've witnessed, is most certainly not good.

If I were to rewrite ATLA, the main characters I'd want to rewrite into making a lot more sense than they do, and making their arcs actually logical, are Zuko and Katara. I'd definitely add a few rewrites for Iroh, particularly to make him WAY more accountable for shit than he ever was, and to show he's not universally loved and shouldn't be, since people would have very reasonable grievances with him. I'd also rewrite a handful of things with Aang, too. Toph, full-stop, deserves a growth arc of her own beyond getting stronger and getting used to having friends. Girl has the range. They just never let her explore it. And of course, I'd change a fair few elements of Azula's writing as well. But I feel like no characters would warrant a deeper intervention than Zuko and Katara, precisely because they constantly fail to live up to all the stuff people keep pretending they're flawless exhibits of.

And this is one more issue we've got going on with Katara:

The fandom ABSOLUTELY has been unfair to Katara. A lot of people hate her for no reason. A lot of people who potentially have unexamined racism making their hearts' choices for them and they despise her just because she dared not have fully-white skin. A lot of people pick completely ridiculous things to get angry at her, such as people who HATE HER because she's "rude to Zuko". Just, fuck off. That's about the stupidest reason to hate this character and stupid reasons for that have been heard plenty.

But Katara's fans have become... reactionary. They appear think that any criticism to her character NEEDS to be fought off with "she was right tho" or "she has every reason to act this way" or "she's HUMAN she's allowed to make mistakes you heathen!! That's what a flawed character is like!"

Here's the kicker, though: if you have justifications and excuses for every little unpleasant thing Katara EVER does? You're basically taking a dump on her character yourself and saying she IS flawless.

Flaws in characters are bad things that cannot be justified. They can be funny! They can be annoying. They can be infuriating. But they're things that inconvenience other characters, that hurt them, that show they're not above or beyond doing harmful things! All of what I listed in this crazy long post are Katara's flaws. The reason why I don't like the way these flaws were handled are all the things I already have talked about: no accountability for flaws is basically saying that these flaws don't matter. No follow-up, no lead-up, means Katara is allowed to be as much of an ass as she wants to be and nobody cares: THIS IS NOT FAIR. This is not how ANY character should be written. This is the core reason why I've spent years feuding with Zuko and Iroh: they get away with shit they should NOT get away with, EVER. They're not held accountable for so much they should be. This happens to Katara too. particularly in her dynamcis with her brother. And when people see those flaws and just start listing reasons why it's actually okay? All you're doing is dehumanizing these characters to pretend everything they EVER do is fine.

Also worth noting... character flaws are the way characters grow. If a character is DEEPLY flawed, you know what kind of work you have cut out for you as a writer. If you're writing a story heavily steeped on character development? Then those flaws are VITAL to the work you have to do in order to develop these characters!

But when Zuko is unnecessarily violent and you're told "it's because his culture and family are!", you rightfully assume that as he drifts away from Fire Nation ideology, Zuko WILL grow less violent. Then, you watch how he picks an unnecessary fight with Aang in the finale because everyone's being lazy, an EXTREMELY violent fight at that, and you contrast his earlier behavior with it and... where's the difference, exactly? How did he grow or learn better if violence is STILL his immediate reaction to anything he doesn't like?

Thus, when Katara's flaws get overlooked, ignored, disregarded? What kind of development does Katara get, if none of her flaws are addressed in a way that makes it look like she's genuinely learned any lessons? At least, none of the worst, biggest, glaring flaws were addressed. None of the things that she SHOULD be troubled by and that she shouldn't be happy with herself over, especially after seeing how she hurts people with her actions. This isn't cool. This isn't a fun way to write a character. And it's so glaringly unpleasant when you can so very easily contrast this with the well-known terrible flaw Sokka displays early on: sexism! And then he gets his ass kicked by Suki and he learns to respect the Kyoshi Warriors... and we never see him displaying that particular flaw again. THAT is what growth looks like! What can we point to with Katara that remotely compares to this? That she accepted Zuko? Yeah, no, that sincerely could not count any less. Her personal arc CANNOT be about Zuko. That she got over her mom's death? She didn't. So that's not it either. That she helped Aang save the world? So her personal arc was about Aang and not herself? Was her whole role in the story to play Aang's cheerleader, then? Because if that's it... she was doing that just fine at it since day one. She's the only person who faithfully believed the Avatar would return well before Aang turned up in her life, if the first episode's introduction is to be believed.

So... what, exactly, was Katara's arc? If it's just her waterbending skills, then she's as stunted as Toph, unexplored and underdeveloped and left to just strengthen her fighting skills while Aang and Zuko and Sokka are getting full character arcs, even if very lowkey but very much effective in Sokka's case, where they develop and grow (or they should) into the men they're supposed to be to end the war! Why don't Katara and Toph get similar arcs? Why aren't they challenged on a level that actually provides them with lasting, solid, provable growth, where you can look at them where they started out and see how they ended up and conclude their journey was beautiful?

I insist... writing. Weak writing. Failures to understand/develop characters properly. And of course, lack of accountability in storytelling. I wrote that one focusing mostly on Zuko... but it's very much applicable to every character who fails to own up to the things they should and deserve to face consequences for.

Anyway... this is what I'd say about Katara atm. I'm not 100% sure this is everything because I might have overlooked some stuff that also made Katara's character kind of backfire (while I'm no Kataang hater, I 100% agree that the ship should have been written better too, and after writing them whenever I have, it's honestly kind of ridiculous how such an easy ship could get fucked over so badly by weird writing choices...). Whether you agree with these assessments or not, ultimately, there are valid reasons to feel offput by Katara and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Most of all when you DID appreciate and cherish the character once before, but her fans just jump to the conclusion that you must be a mindless hater to think she's anything but flawless (this, while claiming they love that she's flawed, then they proceed to reveal they have no idea what a flaw is...).

(final note: SORRY IT TOOK ME FOREVER TO ANSWER! Super lengthy answer to make up for it, I hope :((( sorry)

[vickyvicarious]

Beetle Bracket

The substack is over now, it's time to be honest. None of us truly needed The Beetle in our lives. And do you know what we need even less? That's right:

The Beetle Sexyman* Bracket!

*gender, species, and probably even sexiness-neutral

That said, let's subject ourselves to this anyway.

There will be a grand total of five rounds, at the end of which the burning question will finally be answered: who is sexiest in Richard Marsh's The Beetle?

The Beetle Bracket is complete! See below for our final competitor's trophies, and below the cut for number breakdowns/writeups of each round.

Round One Breakdown

In the exact opposite of a shocking twist, Mr. Lindon was absolutely demolished by Train. Out of 130 votes, he got only 0.8%, compared to Train's whopping 90%. Excluding em-dash votes, that adds up to 117 for votes for Train and a measly 1 for Mr. Lindon.

Perhaps the biggest challenge this round was telling the contestants apart (at least in the wonderful accompanying art). However, people pulled through for Edwards, deeming that his ability to survive Sydney is the sexier quality. Out of 55 votes, Edwards won with 52.7%, compared to Peter's 27.3%. Excluding em-dash votes, that's 29 votes for Edwards, and 15 for Peter.

Brick Guy aimed his stones at the voters' hearts, it seems! Out of 58 votes, he won handily with 87.9%, while Mrs. Henderson netted a mere 5.2%. Excluding em-dash votes, that makes 51 votes for Brick Guy, and 3 for Mrs. Henderson.

Another easy victory! The Flirty Constable was confirmed far sexier than Louisa Coleman, who could only disapprove out her window. Out of 47 votes, he got 83%, against Louisa Coleman's 8.5%. Excluding em-dash votes, that's 38 votes for Brick Guy, and 4 for Louisa Coleman.

We always knew this would be the real nail-biter of Round One, and it didn't disappoint! The vote was the closest by far, and both contestants exchanged the winning spot multiple times, but in the end Cat narrowly eked out a win... true to life, at least in my experience of cat vs. carpet battles. Out of 152 votes, Cat won with 44.7%, against Carpet's 42.1%. Excluding em-dash votes, that makes 68 votes for Cat, and 64 for Carpet.

One last gimme to finish us off this round. Out of 65 votes, Glove Seller won with 80%, Matthews trailing at 15.4%. Excluding em-dash votes, that adds up to 52 votes for Glove Seller, and 10 for Matthews.

Round Two Breakdown

Look, he's no Superman - Robert Holt stood no chance against this runaway Train, it seems. Out of 102 votes, it barreled to victory with 58.8% against Bobert's 31.4%. Excluding em-dash votes, that makes 60 votes for the train, and 32 for Holt.

Nearly everyone agrees that No One is sexier than Augustus Champnell! No, not like that. I mean, the detective is significantly less sexy than the mere concept of no one at all. Out of 64 votes, No One handily won with 81.3% against Augustus's 9.4%. Excluding em-dash votes, that is 52 votes for No One, and 6 for Augustus Champnell.

Marjorie Lindon may have three men canonically head-over-heels for her, but neither Edwards nor Tumblr count among those numbers - though this was the closest match this round. Out of 41 votes, he quickly defeated her with 48.8% against her 31.7%. Excluding em-dash votes, that makes 20 votes for Edwards and 13 for Marjorie.

Percy Woodville doesn't want to fight - but luckily the voters were willing to do so for him! Out of 43 votes, he took 58.1%, compared to Brick Guy's 30.2%. Excluding em-dash votes, that becomes 25 votes for Percy, and 13 for Brick Guy.

The Beetle has many mystical abilities. Chief of these, it seems, is being literally the only main character to survive their first round in the sexyman contest! Speaks to the (lack of) sexiness in Marsh's writing, I suppose. Out of 104 votes, The Beetle won easily with 66.3%, while the Flirty Policeman only had 13.5%. Excluding em-dash votes, that makes 69 votes for Theb (nice), and 14 for the policeman.

He survived it twice, thanks to Edwards and The Beetle (more worthy competitors according to this round), but the third time seems to have been the charm. Sydney Atherton was absolutely slaughtered by Atherton's Magic Vapour! Out of 47 votes, the murdergas got 72.3% compared to Sydney's 17%. Excluding em-dash votes, that adds up to 34 votes for the vapour, and only 8 for its creator.

The Cat is no longer just lurking outside Paul Lessingham's house in hopes of pets and food. Oh no, it's shaping up to be a fierce competitor indeed! Out of 58 votes, it won easily with 58.6%, versus Paul's 29.3%. Excluding em-dash votes, that makes 34 votes for our favorite feline, and only 17 for the erstwhile statesman.

Glove Seller took an early lead, and Dora Grayling simply never caught up. Honestly, she'd probably be fine with it, she only cares about Sydney anyway. Out of 74 votes, Glove Seller easily won with 47.3%, Dora only getting 33.8%. Excluding em-dash votes, that equals 35 for Glove Seller, and 25 for Dora.

Round Three Breakdown

In any other sexyman bracket this matchup might not have meant so much, but I think we all understand these were some top contenders who both deserve our respect. Still, only one could continue on... and with the narrowest margin of victory in the entire bracket thus far, that turned out to be the Train! Out of 56 votes, it won with 46.4% against No One's 41.1%. Excluding em-dash votes, that makes 26 votes for Train, and 23 for No One. (Cat vs. Carpet had a difference of 4 votes, being the second-closest match. I'm loving that the fiercest battles are the ones with no people involved.)

Percy Woodville's charms carried the day once again, this time with a rather dramatic lead. I'm sure he's much more surprised than we are. Out of 38 votes, he had 78.9%, leaving Edwards in the dust with 10.5%. Excluding em-dash votes, that adds up to 30 votes for Percy, and 4 for Edwards.

Perhaps it's The Beetle's sheer unbridled charisma, perhaps it's the fact that the vapour has 'Atherton' in the name... Either way, this round was a slam dunk for our favorite coleoptera, proving that at least in this case canon was onto something. Out of 83 votes, The Beetle took 72.3% while Atherton's Magic Vapour could only muster up 13.3%. Excluding em-dash votes, that equals 60 for Theb, and just 11 for the vapour.

Well, it had a good run... but in the end the Cat just didn't know what to do in the face of that many gloves, just like everyone else Glove Seller has come up against. (It's fine, I'm officially declaring that she adopted it. These matches only end in death when the loser sucks.) Out of 52 votes, Glove Seller won with 53.8% versus Cat's 40.4%. Excluding em-dash votes, that would be 28 for Glove Seller, and 21 for the kitty.

Round Four Breakdown

He put up a good fight, and managed to close the initial gap somewhat, but in the end Percy just didn't have the requisite sexiness to defeat the mighty Train. Out of 63 votes, it won with 60.3%, against Percy's 28.6%. Excluding em-dash votes, that equals 38 votes for Train, and 18 for Percy.

Glove Seller may be many things (to us; she is admittedly very few things in canon), but apparently those do not include immunity to The Beetle. Winning with their narrowest margin yet, they still easily took over half of all votes! Out of 47 votes, Theb won with 63.8% versus Glove Seller's 23.4%. Excluding em-dash votes, that makes 30 votes for the Beetle, and 11 for Glove Seller.

As per vast majority vote, there will now be a third-place match next round. Apologies to the three of you who didn't want it, feel free to seek out your nearest hypnotist bugperson and ask them to erase the memories of whatever the results may be from your mind.

Final Round Breakdown

It seems that we are all the Train fiends today. At least for this one particular train. Out of 128 votes, it took the win with a solid 56.3%, against The Beetle's 31.3%. Excluding em-dash votes, that adds up to 72 votes for Train, and 40 for the Beetle. It seems some things are just meant to be. Theb will simply have to fly away with the silver, for now...

While the finale results were accurate to canon, that's not the case for third place! Percy Woodville made one final effort and overtook Glove Seller's early lead. Out of 57 votes, he won with 47.4%, against Glove Seller's 31.6%. Excluding em-dash votes, that equals 27 votes for Percy and 18 for Glove Seller. Honestly, I think she'd be proud of him, and if my official stance means anything to you, then you should know that Glove Wins (aka Persally aka this ship) is beetle bracket canon in my heart.