#i know what it’s called but i’m not attempting to spell that shit

[poseidonstaint]

i know everyone is praising ify for how he’s playing this season and i do think he is slaying but some of his moves kinda bother me😭😭😭i didn’t like how he took all the drug juice i feel like brennan obviously had a plan for how that was gonna work with persimmon dead AND everyone would’ve got a cool moment with the drugs but he kinda just took it :/ obviously it worked out and it did lead to that convo w liv and russell but idk i felt like jacob in that moment and i’m not even playing LMAO like i would rather have just seen what brennan was gonna do and got to see how everyone was gonna take it

[snaileer]

Wrong Number? Wrong Answer.

It was the usual deal that the Justice League Dark dealt with… way too often honestly.

Initially, it had been just Wonder Woman, investigating a cult that had attempted to abduct her earlier in the month.

Diana had defeated them. Easily. Of course. But upon questioning them, their reasoning had concerned her.

They had attacked her for a ritual to open the ‘Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep’, a ritual which required ‘a blade blackened by the ichor of time.’

Once again, she was being targeted for her parentage. Did it ever end?

Of course, she questioned them further, what other ingredients did they need, what artifacts they would be hurting others to create.

A ring carved from the bone of an unfreed slave.

A crown made of lava untouched by human hands.

And sand directly from the pouch of Dream of the Endless themself.

It was an eclectic collection of items.

And yet, they had told her that only the blade remained to be created.

Again, it was concerning.

So Diana left the fools to be taken care of by men’s authorities, and focused on tracking down just what they were doing and if necessary, how to stop it.

After depleting her academic resources, and her connections within with nothing to show, Diana finally called in her friend through the league, Zatanna.

Zatanna had been frazzled by it, showing up in her living room before they’d even finished the call.

Together they tracked down the cult to Gotham… which was also a problem.

It was the reason why Diana was running through the caves beneath the crime ridden city with one of her closest friends in men’s world and a magician by her side.

All too quickly, they were surrounded by fanatics, each carrying sharp blades solely focused on her.

Working in sync with Batman and Zatanna throwing spells above them, Diana believed it would be a well-won battle.

Until a golden light flashed across the cave, blinding her for a precious second as she felt a sharp sting cut across her arm.

When her vision cleared, her arm was dripping blood and John Constantine stood in front of her.

“Sorry about that, love,” Constantine smirks, “No harm done?”

Diana’s teeth grind together as she turns away from him, fighting her way through more followers. The one who had injured her is nowhere to be seen, and the blade with them.

Even once the rest of the swarm is beaten, their numbers no longer being replenished, Diana does not feel content. The sense of danger lingers.

“Constantine.” Batman growls, “What are you doing in Gotham?”

The Brit rolls his eyes as he lights a new cigarette, “You know I don’t actually have to tell you every time I enter the city right? But besides, that’s news to me, portals are a tricky business, I’m tracking my own problem.”

Batman glares at him.

“Someone stole from me mate. And whatever they stole it for can’t be good, so I’m here ta get it back. Thought you’d be proud of something like that, Batsy, insteada leavin’ it for someone else?”

Batman’s eyes darken, “We’re tracking a group trying to open the Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep, is your artifact related to that?”

“Fucking shit it is yeah! Bollocks I didn’t think they’d be using the dream sand for something like that, what sort of mannies are these?!” Constantine exclaims, hastily grinding his cigarette beneath his shoe.

“Hn.”

Suddenly, there’s a rattling boom, the ground and walls shaking around them as dust rains down and they are all forced into stabilizing stances.

They barely share a glance before all three are running down the hall to the source, Constantine left scrambling to keep up.

The scene they come to is equal parts confusing as it is problematic.

The cultists are each in states of disrepair, crusting on the edges or yelling at their leader. The leader is the first to notice their arrival.

“You! You say you are a child of Zeus and yet your blood does not work! You lie of your ancestry!”

Diana steps forward, “I do not! I am the daughter of Queen Hippolyta and Zeus, grandchild of Kronos! The fault of your magic does not lie with me!”

The leaders face twists, mouth open to shout, but a flash of gold slams into him.

“Z, the book!” Constantine yells, arms outstretched as he flings more spells at the surrounding people, glowing ropes binding each.

“On it! Etativel em dna eht koob!” Zatanna shouts, lifting into the air as a book the leader had been holding flies into her hands.

Immediately she begins turning pages with desperation, “Wohs em eht stsitluc lleps!”

The book flips to a distinct page, and Zatanna’s face drains of color.

“Batman, we need to be careful, this spell looks legitimate, we might still have a risk on our hands.”

Batman hummed, looking at the chalk lines of the summoning circle drawn out before them, drawing Diana to do the same. Looking closely at the artifacts placed at each cardinal direction, including a short dagger with her blood nearly completely dry on the flat of the blade.

Batman moves towards the gathered and bound cultists as both magicians whisper over the spell.

Diana continues to look out on the evidence of the ritual, confusion warring in her.

She lays a hand on the lasso at her side. She knew she had not been lying about her heritage, so then why….

‘A blade blackened by the ichor of time.’

She looks at the bloodied dagger once more. It didn’t make sense, even if they had managed to harm a godly descendent, pure ichor would be gold; and even her blood was simply a humanly deep crimson red, not black; not until it-

Diana lunges towards the knife, fingertips brushing its hilt just as her blood dries a flaky black.

Her body slams into the cave walls in the next second, percussive force rippling through the air.

She crumples to the ground, struggling to lift her head.

White boots pass in front of her eyes.

She watches as they move towards her colleague, her friend, only to be surprised as they stop in front of the cultists instead.

As the air returns to her body, Diana lifts herself up, shaking arms supporting her as the weight of the atmosphere presses down.

She looks at the being, the sight almost making her collapse once more.

Mist curls around its form like a mountain peak, iridescent light glowing near its head, pitch black night covering its body, the pinprick of stars so small you can’t see them straight on, claws like a falcon’s beak: unhidden and meant to tear apart. And more importantly, wrapped around the leaders neck.

““̵̨̮̣̀͊̓Y̷͖̊̒o̸̤͈͍͌̈́͘u̶̗̭̲̍ ̵̬̤̞̀̑ā̴̟r̸̹̝̉e̴̞̦̮͑̍ ̴̣̩̖͑̓͛a̷̮̞͍͊͆͝ ̶͍̀̈́́f̷̖̄ò̸͈̓͝ǫ̷̅̀̔l̶̹̥̹̋͌͠.̴̤̲̈́͋̀”̶̛̫̺̈́”

The voice rattles her heart within her chest. She watches as Batman continues to try and stand.

The cultist struggles against the hand, mumbling screams behind Constantine’s bind. The creature tears it off with one claw.

“We summ-moned-… the king! Pa-pariah-!��

The creatures hand barely twitches, but the cultist breaks off in a scream. She is surprised to note the other cultists react exactly alike. As if linked.

“̵̻͝Ý̷͚o̶͈͝u̷̦̐ ̶̆͜d̶͈̄ǐ̸̢d̵̲̓ ̴͖̽n̴̘̅ȯ̸͍t̵̛̯ ̴̫̐ŝ̵̗u̴̹̇m̶̨͠m̴̡̽o̴̱̐n̵̘͝ ̴̪̈h̴̨̀i̶͝ͅm̸̰͗.̴͍͆”̸̔�� The creature growls, “À̴̳n̸̛̜d̶͒ͅ ̴̤̃y̸̬͝ǫ̸̒u̵̫͗ ̶̘͛a̴̫̐r̷̠̈e̶͂ͅ ̶͔̋ḽ̶̔ủ̷͜c̷̥̍k̴̲͊ÿ̸̯́ ̶͓́f̷͇͝o̷͎͒ŕ̴͇ ̶͔͝t̶̞̀h̸̲̉ȧ̸̮t̷̩͝.̷͔̍ ̵͙͐I̸͎͌f̶͖͛ ̶̜̇y̵̜͗o̴̩̍ṵ̶͆ ̵̫̈́h̴͛ͅā̴̼d̸̤͆…̵͍̈́i̵͍̐t̸̡̉ ̴̭͂w̷̥̔o̷̟̅u̴̪͂l̸̞̏d̵͚̀ ̵͓̃b̴̢̽e̵̗͠ ̸͕̉m̸̠͆u̶̖͘c̷̯͘h̴̤̎ ̸̥́w̷͚͝o̸͐ͅr̶̦͐s̵̨̿e̸͕͆ ̸̙̑f̴̧̂o̶̱̓ȓ̷̟ ̴̠͗ÿ̸̥́ö̵͜ŭ̶̟.̵͎̉”̶͍̀

The man whimpers under the claws.

"I̴n̷s̵t̴e̷a̵d̸,̶ ̵y̸o̷u̵ ̴g̵o̷t̶ ̷m̸e̸,̴I̴ ̶g̵u̸a̷r̶d̴ ̶h̶i̷s̵ ̶p̸r̸i̵s̵o̵n̶ ̶b̶e̷c̴a̷u̴s̶e̸ ̵I w̴a̸s̴ ̵t̴h̸e̷ ̸o̴n̸e̴ ̷t̸o̶ ̶p̵u̴t̵ ̴h̸i̴m̶ ̵t̴h̷e̸r̶e̴ ̵o̶n̵c̸e̵ ̶m̶o̸r̸e̸.̵”̴ The creature leans into the cultist, arching ever higher, angles sharpening, body distorting, "“̸̝͋a̵̱͋n̶͓͛d̵̘́ ̵̡̍f̷̱͊o̵͚̓r̷̪̎ ̴̭̑a̷̬̓s̷͙̅ ̷͍͌ĺ̵̫o̸̻͆ņ̵̀g̶̚ͅ ̷̬͌a̶̮̿s̵̩͊ ̸̫̌t̸̲̕h̸̢̉e̷̖͗ ̴̰̋c̸̹̀ȍ̸͎s̷̡̃m̵̥̍o̷̜͋s̷̗͐ ̴̜͆e̷̛̙x̸͓̑i̶͉̿s̸̹̀t̵̛̺,̴̡͠Í̷̢ ̷̣̽w̵̠͋i̶̺͒l̴̠͐l̸̮̃ ̴͍͌k̴̰̑e̸̠͐e̷̟͋p̵̲̏ ̸̙̂h̷̘͋ị̸́m̸͕̚ ̶̳̋t̶̡̒h̷̩͆e̷̪͝r̷̒͜e̵̡̔.̵̭͗”̵̮̔

There’s a dull flash as light flashes beneath the cultists skin, beneath all of the cultist’s skin, before they drop to the ground unconscious.

All too quickly, air returns to the room, pressure lifting like a deep breath into the room.

The creature turns, eyes meeting Diana’s for just a second as he turns towards the chalked lines of the circle. Diana lifts herself to her feet, drawing closer to Batman as they both watch him, hesitant.

On the other side of the room, Constantine and Zatanna also struggle to their feet, eyes filled with fear and caution as they take in the scene.

As the creature moves, mist still rolling off him in waves, his features fall away with it, gradually smoothing to a more human visage. It looks… young. Boyish.

Those same white boots crush down on the formed crown, the cooled lava rock crumbling under one step. Next is the ring, held carefully in two hands the creature whispers over it, breathy wind carrying it away as it turns to dust. He holds the blade with one hand, flakes disintegrating off as he lifts it.

Diana’s arm tingles.

Then the creature is standing in front of the last point, holding the small brown pouch of sand with consideration.

Silence reigns in the room.

Constantine, of course, is the one to break it.

“I believe that’s mine, mate,” he cuts in, stance still laden with suspicion.

“Oh?” The creature smiles, almost mockingly as he turns to Constantine, “Is it? If I wasn’t mistaken, this ritual calls for Dream’s sand. Are you Dream of the Endless, little magician?”

Constantine visibly swallows, “I’m not.”

The creature huffs a laugh, fangs glinting in his smirk. He moves swiftly, pivoting on one foot to toss the pouch at Constantine, “Catch.”

Constantine lurches forward to try and catch it, only to find it vanish in the air before it reaches his fingers.

The creature cackles, floating backwards, “What did you do to get your hands on such an amount of Dream’s sand, magician? I’m curious.”

“It was a family present,” Constantine grinds out as he turns back to the gently levitating humanoid form, “You can drop the kid facade by the way, you’re not tricking anyone here looking like that.”

The creature shrugs, “And if I’m comfortable like this?”

Diana steps in to stop Constantine from snapping back, “Who are you, spirit, to be summoned by such a ritual?”

The creature watches her for a beat, “I am Phantom of the Dead City, Protector of infinite realms. They did not bring me here, but I knew who they wished to summon and came because of it.”

Batman steps forward, voice interrogating, “The Sarcophagus of Eternal Sleep-“

“Remains sealed. The Tyrant King remains trapped and at rest, do not worry.”

Somehow Diana does not think that soothes Batman, even as a great a warrior as he is.

“Hn.”

“Now, about that spell book,” Phantom turns to Zatanna, waving a hand and the book flies to him. He hovers a hand over it, and Diana watches in fascination as the chalk on the floor begins to burn away, the drawing in the book following.

Phantom looks at her once more, eyes too wise and strong for the age of his face, and then from one moment to the next, he is gone.

The book drops to the floor with a slam, cover open to aged blank pages as the last of the sigil burns away.

Hesitantly, Constantine goes to it, the rest of them following. When Constantine lifts the book with careful hands, they watch another image fade into view on the paper.

A cool colored image of Phantom rising over a city skyline outlined in green against a deep violet sky. Even on paper, his visage shifts constantly between the boyish figure and the ethereal danger of the form he’d appeared in.

Beneath the city lays a large coffin covered in chains.

The lock glows a pulsing toxic green before fading to a steely gunmetal grey and going still.

“Well that was the best encounter I’ve had with a dangerous dimensional figure and I still lost the dream sand.”

Zatanna’s slap echoes in the cave.

[hyewka]

warnings: infidelity, dom!beomgyu, best friend gyu, dubcon, not proofread

he pouts, his face contorting into a childish display of temper as he lightly kisses your neck. “look what you do to me, baby…” he whines, grinding against you rougher, his cock fully hard now. “could fuck you right here right now... i know you want it too,”

you try to resist him, try to get the feeling building up between your thighs out of your head. this was wrong. thats what clicks for you. “no, no…stop, you know i-"

he hums, his fingers teasing the waistband of your panties. "you want me to rip these off and fuck you right here... don’t you want to feel my cock inside you?” he nibbles at your earlobe.

ever since you got finally got together with taehyun, attempting to completely abandon your unrequited yearning for your best friend, he had suddenly gotten more and more touchy with you which had eventually lead you having sex with him after you had your very first fight with your boyfriend. it was all you had hoped for…aside from the fact that you were committed to another.

when you had seen taehyun the next day, the guilt swallowed you whole, you couldn’t even look him in the eye. then days turned into weeks, and the feeling had eventually passed over until you could push it in the back of your head and pretend it never happened…but beomgyu doesn’t make it easy.

see, ever since that night he’d been trying to get you back in his bed. hes managed to have you cum on his fingers multiple times and had even convinced you somehow to get on your knees for him. each time you’d tell yourself that you hadnt had sex so it…technically wasn’t cheating, it was all you could hold on to without feeling like shit whenever you cuddled up with taehyun late at night.

the worst thing is, hes never shown you any hint of lust before you started dating, so it only throws you off when you spend sleepless nights deeply pondering on his behavior.

but what use does that do when you’ve made the mistake of letting him hang out at your house again knowing how he gets? he’s completely insatiable the moment he walks in, kissing you all over.

“baby?” he calls out and you shiver, the feelings you’ve built for him for years threatening to spill out your throat just at the simple petname hes learnt to latch onto over times you spend together like this. you can’t give in, not again. you swallow hard and shake your head, trying to keep your resolve.

“i’m loyal to taehyun, i’m not making this.. mistake again.” you say firmly, or as firmly as you’re able to make it sound. “i need you to respect our relationship or our friendship’s done.”

he laughs, a dark, twisted sound. "loyal? to him? now you decide to be loyal?”

you stand your ground even though every part of you wants to crumble. “y-you took advantage of my vulnerability and had sex with me, i didn’t mean to betray his trust. but i’m ready to move past all of this and-"

suddenly, his grip on you tightens. “what about all the other times after that? y’know, when your mouth was stuffed with my cock?”

you squeeze your eyes shut in regret the moment the memories come rushing in. he continues, leaning in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “don’t make me out to be the bad guy. i know you want me. i know you really love me.”

your heart stops, his words hitting you like a physical blow. you open your eyes, meeting his gaze with a mixture of disbelief and horror. “what?”

his expression softens slightly, but there’s a determined glint in his eyes. “you heard me. you can’t deny it. all those times, it wasn’t just lust.”

you shake your head, struggling to find your voice. “no, you’re wrong. i love taehyun. i can’t… i won’t do this anymore.”

“you’re lying to yourself. he can't satisfy you like i can... he doesn't understand you like i do...” he trails off, testing your buttons. it’s like you’re under a spell the more he talks, pushing his fingers beneath your panties, his breath getting heavier. “you crave this... you crave me, don’t you?”

[tfboyzblog]

Mikey couldn’t believe it was working. That old spell book in his grandfather’s chest was for real. Holding Saul’s hand, he could feel a strange energy fill his body. 

“Holy shit lil’ dude” the older boy exclaimed. “Look at you!”  

Mike glanced to the side where he had his mirror and look at his reflection in shock. He was rapidly growing, almost reaching Saul’s height as a senior. His shirt felt increasingly constrictive as his arms bulged, chest muscles began to push the fabric, back widened. Take off the glasses and ditch the button-up and he could pass as part of the swimming team, or maybe the soccer team... 

“Wow...” was all he could muster in his new, slightly huskier voice. 

“Bro...” Saul nudged him, but the boy was too enraptured in his marvelous growth to notice the older boy begin to dwindle in height and lose much of his size. 

“Bro! I think you’re good for now! Let go!” Saul called louder this time, using his free arm to pull off Mikey’s hand from his own. 

“Oh!” Mikey exclaimed as he came to himself. “I’m sorry! I was so...” he began to mutter as his eyes went back to the mirror and his improved form “-amazed...” he concluded as he tried to move around in his too-small clothes. 

“Yeah... I noticed...” Saul commented in an annoyed tone as he lifted his arms to see how baggy his shirt was now. He silently appreciated the belt holding up his shorts. “Anymore and I’d come out of this looking like a middle schooler... “ 

Mikey looked at his friend, noticing how they practically saw eye to eye now, but the bulk and size the eighteen-year-old had before were gone. He’d still pass for a senior, maybe a junior, but a more average looking one now.  

He smirked. “Nah! You’re still a big boy.” He playfully patted him on the shoulder. “Besides, you’d probably be a cute middle schooler anyway.” He commented. 

“Don’t get any ideas, Mikey!” He pointed at Mike. “Don’t make me regret this!” 

Mikey nodded. “Don’t worry! I promise I won’t.” He hugged his friend, feeling the new power in his arms. If he wanted, he thought, he could hold Saul like that with minimal effort. It felt good. During his strong hug he could swear he felt a poke against his leg, but as he let go, he could see nothing out of the ordinary, aside from what could be a slight blush on Saul’s heavy tanned skin. 

“Thank you! I mean it!” Mikey said. “I just need to stop being kicked around by Hank and his imbecile posse. And now,” he attempted to flex a bicep, but stopping as soon as he started hearing a tear in the fabric “I can! And all thanks to you.” 

“Yeah yeah! I know I’m awesome!” Saul waved. “Just give me back my...” he looked up and down to the burgeoning athlete in dork clothes “you know, everything, next week. That should be enough...”  

“Don’t worry.” Mike said with a wink. “I’ll put your... everything to good use!” 

-- 

Saul left soon after and Mikey thanked the heavens. He couldn’t stand in these terribly tight clothes anymore! His shirt, his socks, but more urgent yet, his underwear. 

Taking off his button shirt with effort, Mikey was in awe of his new sculpted pecs protruding from his chest, he caressed them and followed down to an immaculate row of abs connecting to his waist. He pulled off the trousers, that now looked like they were close to tearing at the seams. His legs were wide and powerful. His feet looked bigger, even. And gazing up he stopped at his poor white briefs, pushing and compressing an impressive bulge. 

“Wow...” He moaned. “I guess I got some of Saul’s ‘other’ size too...” He thought as he pulled down the last piece of constrictive clothes. A long, girthy semi erect dick whipped out of the small nerdy briefs. “I must be, like... 7 inches now!” Mikey said, grabbing his newly improved fuckstick. It felt heavy in his hand, being accustomed to his 4 incher. “Poor Saul.” He thought, making a note to return him his size as soon as he could. 

“But for now...” He smirked and flexed his huge biceps. His dick twitched at the sight. “I want to enjoy the ride.” 

-- 

Saul was getting restless. The week was almost over and not a word for his neighbor. Mikey was always a good kid, and he was tired of hearing how he was constantly getting bullied by some idiot jocks... 

He looked at his mirror. He missed his muscles and the size he used to carry, but he couldn’t help thinking how he kinda looked cuter with a bit less meat in his bones, more of an average but still charming high school boy. He felt a tingle in his lower area, making him rethink all of that. If he knew Mikey’s weird spell would also drain away his size down there, he’d probably reconsider being a donor. Even in his boxers, there was hardly any bump in the front. His healthy looking 6 incher, now closer to 4, at most... 

Suddenly there was a strong knock at the door. 

Mikey! It had to be him! 

Saul flew down the stairs, only in a baggy t-shirt and boxers. He wasn’t prepared for who was waiting on the other side of the door. 

A hulking muscular beast walked in. “Hey there little dude.” He said in a deep voice as he looked down at Saul. “Did you get smaller since I last see you?” 

“Mikey?” Saul asked incredulous. This muscle god was at least 7 feet tall by now, his massive chest barely covered by a tank top, strong thick arms stretched behind his head exposing a pair of sweaty and moderately hairy pits. The monster smirked at Saul, and it was clear it was his friend’s face. More masculine, more defined, perfect skin instead of the normal zits, a killer smile... 

“I go by Mike now. Mikey was giving people the impression I was some tiny nerd or something.” He brings one of his arms down and casually adjusts his crotch. “And there’s nothing tiny here, right?” He laughs.  

Saul could see the outline of the massive snake in his underwear, easily spotted in all its thick glory even through the sweatpants Mike was wearing. 

“What...what happened? You were like...not half as big last week.” Saul asked the giant teen boy. 

“Well, it was all thanks to you, buddy!” He said as he walked towards Saul and grabbed him in a strong hug. Saul’s head resting against the boy’s giant pec. He suddenly felt inundated by the smell coming from his arms. Saul’s head started swimming and a tingle made his dick twitch. 

“You should’ve seen Hank’s face!” Mike laughed and let go of Saul, walking towards the living room and sitting in the sofa, legs wide apart. “When he saw I was as tall as him and was like, as jacked as him, I think he shat his pants. For the first day in my high school life, they left me alone. I couldn’t believe it was that easy!” 

“That’s great! But then-” Saul tried to speak. 

“I wasn’t done speaking, bro.” Mike interrupted, in a calm, but authoritative way. His voice caused a tingle to spread down Saul’s spine and into his lower area. 

“Well, you won’t believe what those pussies tried next!” He continued, now in a friendlier tone. Saul, however, couldn’t shake off the force the boy exuded and the respect he commanded with a simple sentence. He stood in front of the huge teen as he stretched on the couch.  

“They waited for me outside the school the next day. Waited for me to be alone and then Hank grabbed me and dragged me to old warehouse. I guess he thought he couldn’t put me in my place alone now, so he wanted to gang up on me where no one could see. Can you imagine though? How could those losers ever think my place was beneath them?” He laughed at the notion. 

“And wasn’t he surprised when he noticed my shoulders were too wide for him to grab me like that. And weren’t his friends shocked when he let go of me and was just a skinny brat. You should’ve seen his face. Wait. You can actually see it. I took pictures.” Mike said, picking his phone from his pocket. Turning the screen to Saul, the awe-struck boy could see a kid looking no older than 12, swimming in his oversized clothes, looking up in shock. 

“Glad I remembered grandad’s spell, eh?” He winked at Saul, who nodded, not wanting to interrupt his friend again. 

“Well, after the brat was taken care of, his friends were easy pickings, to be honest. With every bit of muscle I took, I took ability, masculinity, everything that made them jocks. They had nowhere to run, and I took it all.” He laughed. 

“So, what do you think lil’ bro?” Mike smirked at Saul as he flexed his gigantic biceps. 

Saul dry swallowed. What did he think. Right in front of him was the biggest 15-year-old in the world, most likely. He exuded power and masculinity. He fumbled for words. He felt butterflies in his stomach and the tingling in his dick was stronger than ever. Not just his dick, either. He felt a yearning, inside... 

“Mike-” he almost used his old nickname. “That’s insane. You’re like, bodybuilder huge!”  

“I know, right? Pretty sick!” He guffawed. “Didn’t feel the need to drain them as much as Hanky boy, but they’re pretty much nobodies now. Horny submissive nobodies, actually.” Saul was shook. “They can’t seem to quit my dick, now.” 

“But then again.” Mike grabbed a handful of cock “I got about four jocks worth of testosterone and musk so...” He looked suggestively at Saul “who would be able to...” 

Saul tried to repress the growing feeling inside him. “But your folks? I live right next door and saw nothing different. No one was surprised about this much growth?” He tried to change the subject. 

“Oh that!” Mike waved. “Another one of grandad’s spells. Basically, it normalized things. If you’re outside the spell, that’s how things always were. Kids at school all think that this is how I always looked. Well except for Hanky boy and the bottom bunch. Even if they wanted to tell someone what happened no one would believe them. I think they like knowing their muscles made me this huge, and if they don’t, they should. But yeah, since you were outside that spell it probably, sorta normalized things for you too...”   

Saul just nodded. It made sense. Even though his head was spinning from all this information and the increasing muskiness in the room. 

“So yeah. It’s all thanks to you, lil’ buddy!” Mike reached in front and grabbed Saul until the smaller 18-year-old was straddling his huge quad. Mike’s strong arms surrounded the boy and hugged him tightly. Saul couldn’t help himself but sitting on his friend's leg and putting his hands on his muscular body. 

“I came over to honor my end of the deal. Give you back your muscle. Your height. A few inches down there...” he chuckled. “Unless you don’t want me to.” 

Saul looked shockingly into his friend’s eyes, still holding to his pecs and shoulders. How could he think that was the case. For an entire week he’s been forced to live without his hard-earned physique. It’s not like it’s that bad, and he had to admit he fit real comfortably on Mike’s lap like that, but still... 

“Unless you want me to keep them. Keep looking like this.” He spoke softly, in a voice that twisted his thoughts. 

 “I think that’s what you want.” He chuckled softly; poking Saul’s modest but raging boner. A large wet spot already had formed on the front of his boxers. “And if that’s the case, I’m sure I can pay you back some other way.” Mike’s big meaty hand slid down Saul’s slender back until it found his supple ass. Saul yelped as the hand caressed his backside. “I’ll make sure to give it all to you. Again, and again...” He whispered at his ear. 

“But you have to be the one to say so.” He continued. “So, what will it be?”  

Saul still looked at his friend’s eyes, his hands wandered freely on Mike’s massive chest. He couldn’t think straight, and the yearning inside grew and grew until he finally admitted to himself what it really was.  

He wanted this muscle god inside him. He knew he’d gladly give all his muscle, all his masculinity, just to be owned by this perfect specimen. No matter how many others there were; to know he was Mike’s. To be used as he saw fit. Saul could only hope he was able to give more to this example of athletic perfection. More of his height, so he’d be smaller, and Mike could manhandle him with even more ease, more of his dick and balls, now useless for Mike’s intended purpose, so he could add more to the python and orange sized balls his former nerd friend now had. 

And as he imagined that and he became even more hungry for cock, Saul felt himself sink deeper, fit even more snugly in Mike’s embrace. He could feel the teenage titan stretch a bit more; his spine extend a couple more inches; his frame swell with some more pounds of muscle...  

Saul looked up at Mike and approached his mouth to his, still afraid to make any noise, and meekly nodded. After all, the choice was obvious. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Well this has been my first "longer" story and the first experiment in making stories without a picture for inspiration and instead drawing random themes from a choice wheel. This time the themes were Muscle Theft and Corruption ;)

The AI picture is just meant as a placeholder for now, as I haven't found a appropriate picture for it ( and I know you pervs prefer TF stories with pictures). I invite people to submit pictures to accompany this story. And finally, if you have suggestions of other places I could post my longer stories from now on, please let me know!!

[iris-qt]

𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝙿𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚃𝚒𝚖𝚎

"I have never tolerated someone for so long~..."

ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

❆ ʙɢ ᴍᴜꜱɪᴄ: ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ!

❆ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ | 3.3ᴋ

❆ ᴀ/ɴ: ɴᴏ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ɢʀᴜᴇʟɪɴɢ ᴀꜱꜱɪɢɴᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ᴡɪɴᴛᴇʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ! ꜱᴏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ꜰɪᴄ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ

❆ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ: ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴɴᴜᴀʟ ᴍɪɴɪꜱᴛʀʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ ʜᴏʟɪᴅᴀʏ ʙᴀʟʟ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴀ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴛᴀɴᴛʟʏ ᴘʀᴀɴᴋ ᴅᴇꜱᴇʀᴠɪɴɢ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏɢᴏᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ʏᴇᴀʀ, ʜᴏᴡᴇᴠᴇʀ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴇᴄɪᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴛᴏᴘ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴀɴᴋꜱ, ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴛᴏ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ'ꜱ ᴄʜᴀɢʀɪɴ. ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴅᴏ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ.

It was the annual Ministry of Magic Holiday Ball.

The one with glittering golden candles that were nearly blinding, the air thick with the scent of mulled wine and enchanted pine.

The one that always ended with your father lecturing you as you bit your lip, trying not to burst out laughing at the ridiculous faces Mattheo Riddle would make behind your father’s angry figure. 

Indeed, the merry attendees of the annual bash hated to see you and Mattheo walk in, for that instantly spelled mischief with a capital M(attheo).

This year, however, you had resolved to be the mature and elegant woman your parents begged you to be every year. This year, you were almost of age. And maybe it was time to get your act together. Call it an early New Years resolution, if you will.

And so here you were, sitting up pin straight in the enchanted carriage that stopped in front of the grand marble venue the Ministry had booked for the party. After your mother fixed every stray hair on your head, you walked in, heads donned with ridiculous Christmas hats turning to praise your elegant stride. Nothing could get in your way. Well…

“Enchanté, mademoiselle y/l/n.”

Mattheo Riddle slid in front of you with his sleek black shoes, bowing down and holding out his hand as he looked up with his shit-eating grin.

You take a deep breath fighting the urge to roll your eyes as you slip your hand into his, watching him press a soft kiss onto it, never breaking eye contact. Yeah, those eyes were as black as his cold little heart.

You sniff pretentiously, snatching your hand away quickly as he stands up, looking down at you with a knowing, cocky expression, eyes scanning every inch of your appearance.

“Since when did you know French,” you scoff, folding your arms and raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

“I mean, I heard it’s the language of love,” he winks, intertwining his arm with yours as he leads you to the drink bar. “And love seems to be in the air,” he snickers, cocking his head towards Draco Malfoy and a girl he was attempting to charm.

“A very one-sided love apparently,” you snort, watching as the girl rolls her eyes and walks off with a disgusted scrunch of her nose. “Another one bites the dust.”

“Yeah, maybe we should cross Draco off the victim list this year. Poor lad’s been through it,” Mattheo pulls out a crumpled piece of parchment with a list of names, scanning it. 

You shake your head, plucking the sheet from his hand and examining it.

“What is this? Your hit list?” you snort. “I, for one, am very in favor of taking out Umbridge,” you tap her name on the page with a smirk.

“Oh, don’t you worry. I have a sick trick planned for that hag,” Mattheo grins, eyes lighting up at the thought of causing chaos and suffering. “Alright, here’s what your job is-”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” you stop him, finger to his lips, frowning. “I told you I won’t be your accomplice this year.”

“Aw, c’mon, y/l/n. You didn’t mean that,” he grins, licking the finger you have held up against his lips.

You let out a disgusted sound as you wipe your finger on his suit, not surprised at his random antics. 

“Listen. You may not understand the concept, but I’ve grown up now. I’m mature.” You tilt your chin up for dramatic effect. “Therefore, I shall not be partaking in your party escapades.”

“I wasn’t aware being mature meant you have to talk like pretentious Professor Snape,” Mattheo snickered as he popped an hors d'oeuvre into his mouth. 

You hit his arm with your clutch, gritting your teeth. Yeah, you were on your last leg.

“The point is. You’re on your own this year, Riddle,” you gave him a last, pointed look before walking away to find your parents.

Riddle chuckled under his breath, watching you leave as he downed a flute of champagne in one go.

“Oh we’ll see about that,” he muttered, placing his empty glass on a server’s tray before walking off. 

Mattheo Riddle knew you were just like him when it came to a good prank. It’s one of the things he adored about you..

And in the spirit of adoration and holiday spirits, Riddle swore to himself he’d make you crack before the ball ended at midnight. Chip away at your composure little by little. And have you back to his side as his pretty little accomplice before his final, brutal prank of the night.

8:00 p.m. PRANK #1: The Enchanted Snowstorm

Riddle knew he had to start with a bit of a bang.

And if that meant pranking his lovely ex-accomplice as a form of punishment for thinking she could leave him behind on his favorite night of the year, then so be it. Riddle looked forward to the Ministry of Magic Holiday Ball every year for one reason: it was when you let loose and showed off your evil side, free from the gripping stress of schoolwork that always kept you uptight. 

You were the mastermind behind the most foul pranks they’d ever played. The one where you turned an old pure-blood-enthusiast into a hog. Or when you’d sent a boggart after the old Minister wizard that frequently denied witches powerful places in the ministry.

Oh, he was determined to get you back and impress you with the pranks he’d been planning and preparing for all year. 

Little did he know you looked forward to these balls just as often as him

Mattheo’s first prank needed to be light, clever, and just enough to make you react without jeopardizing your mature facade. Spotting you standing near your parents by the refreshment table, he smirked.

With a subtle flick of his wand from across the room, he enchanted the mistletoe above your head. Instead of remaining stationary, the mistletoe swirled and began to emit a gentle cascade of enchanted snowflakes: only over you.

At first, it was subtle and charming, just enough for onlookers to chuckle and comment on how festive it was. But as the snow began to intensify, it became impossible to ignore. The flakes started sticking to your perfectly styled hair, smudging the edges of your mascara, and chilling the tip of your nose. Your parents made awkward excuses as they stepped away from the sudden snowstorm, leaving you flustered and fuming.

Across the room, Mattheo leaned casually against the drink bar, toasting you with his champagne flute and giving you a cheeky wink. The message was clear: Still think you can outgrow me?

You purse your lips, brushing snow from your shoulders as you shoot him a glare. Determined not to let him win, you grabbed a napkin and coolly dabbed at your hair, forcing a serene smile onto your face as you joined a conversation nearby, sending a spell to dissipate the cloud of snow.

But Mattheo Riddle wasn’t done. Not even close.

9:00 p.m. PRANK #2: The Exploding Eggnog Fountain

The eggnog fountain at the refreshment table was a centerpiece of the Ministry’s holiday bash: a golden cascade of enchanted eggnog that refilled itself endlessly. Perfect, Mattheo thought, for a little festive chaos.

“Y/l/n,” Mattheo sidled up to you, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he offered you a drink. “I need your expert opinion on something.”

You narrowed your eyes, wary. “What now? Come to pelt charmed snowballs at me?”

He ignores the quip, gesturing toward the fountain. “Imagine this: we modify the enchantment. Just a tiny tweak, nothing big. Instead of pouring a stream, the fountain… spurts. Right into the faces of our dear Ministry elites.” 

He tilted his head toward a cluster of senior wizards by the table, including a pompous Mr. Cuffe, the Daily Prophet editor known for his grating laugh.

You bit your lip, fighting the instinct to laugh as you imagined it. “Mattheo,” you said with exaggerated patience, “what part of mature didn’t you understand?”

“Ah, but hear me out!” he interrupted, leaning in conspiratorially. “We don’t do it to everyone. Just the ones who deserve it. Like Cuffe. Remember his article that called Hogwarts students ‘unruly hooligans’ last year?”

You crossed your arms, pretending disinterest, but the corners of your lips twitched. “Tempting, but no.”

Mattheo grinned. He knew he had you hooked, even if you wouldn’t admit it. With a sly glance at the fountain, he flicked his wand behind his back, muttering a quiet incantation. The golden stream of eggnog shimmered briefly, unnoticed by the crowd.

“Suit yourself,” he said, stepping back to watch.

Moments later, Mr. Cuffe stepped up to the fountain with a goblet, puffing his chest importantly. As he tilted the goblet beneath the stream, the fountain let out a dramatic splurt. A geyser of eggnog shot upward, drenching him from head to toe in sticky, golden liquid.

The room went silent for a beat before bursting into laughter. Cuffe sputtered indignantly, his face turning as red as the poinsettias in the decor.

You pressed your lips together, trying to maintain your composure, but the sight of Mattheo biting back his laughter and raising an eyebrow in your direction nearly broke you.

“I’m not laughing,” you whispered through gritted teeth.

“Oh, sure,” Mattheo smirked, leaning closer. “You’re just appreciating my genius. Admit it. You miss being part of this.”

You shot him a withering glare, though your shoulders shook with barely contained laughter. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re lying to yourself,” he quipped, walking off to plan his next move.

10:00 p.m. PRANK #3: The Name Tag Switch-Up

The banquet hall gleamed with floating golden place cards, each enchanted to guide guests to their assigned seats at the long, elegantly set tables. Mattheo, of course, couldn’t resist tampering with the arrangement.

He leaned casually against a column near the seating chart, pretending to inspect it. When he spotted his target: a trio with a tangled web of animosity. He grinned.

Target #1: Penelope Clearwater, known for her sharp tongue and grudge-holding tendencies. 

Target #2: Adrian Pucey, her ex-boyfriend, who had unceremoniously dumped her.

Target #3: Daphne Greengrass, the reason for the breakup.

With a sly flick of his wand, Mattheo swapped their assigned places. Now, Adrian and Penelope would find themselves sitting side-by-side…with Daphne planted awkwardly between them.

Mattheo spotted you nearby, scanning the room. Perfect timing.

“Y/l/n,” he called, sauntering up with his signature smirk. “You’re going to love this.”

“Doubt it,” you replied flatly, though you paused, curiosity piqued.

He motioned toward the banquet table. “Imagine this: Penelope, Adrian, Daphne. Side by side. Tension thicker than Snape’s hair gel.” He mimed a dramatic explosion. “All we have to do is sit back and watch the fireworks.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help asking, “Why would you even bother?”

He shrugged, feigning innocence. “Holiday spirit. Bringing people together and all that.”

Before you could protest, the guests began finding their seats. The moment Adrian and Penelope realized they were seated next to each other, their faces contorted in synchronized horror. Daphne’s arrival only made things worse; she froze in place, clearly considering whether to flee or fight.

You stood by the edge of the room, arms crossed, trying not to look too invested. Mattheo sidled up beside you, watching the drama unfold.

Adrian stammered something about moving seats, but Penelope snapped, “Oh, no. Stay. I insist.” Her tone dripped with venom, and Adrian visibly shrank into his chair.

Meanwhile, Daphne sat stiffly, her eyes darting between the two like a spectator at a particularly hostile Quidditch match. The trio descended into an awkward, tension-laden silence punctuated by biting comments and passive-aggressive jabs.

You shook your head, lips twitching. “You’re insufferable, Riddle. And childish.”

“True,” Mattheo agreed, grinning shamelessly. “But admit it. That was a masterpiece.”

Despite your best efforts, a small laugh escaped you. “Fine. A tiny masterpiece. But you’re still on your own.”

“We’ll see about that,” he teased, his grin widening. As the exes’ tension reached a fever pitch, he leaned closer and whispered, “Ready for the grand finale?”

11:00 p.m. The Grande Finale: The Umbridge Special

The final prank of the night had to be legendary—something so outrageous it would go down in Ministry holiday party history. And for Mattheo, there was no better target than Dolores Umbridge, the pink-clad, cat-obsessed tyrant who still held a high-ranking position in the Ministry.

It started with Mattheo cornering you near the dessert table, his grin so wide it bordered on maniacal. “Alright, y/l/n, I’ve saved the best for last. And I need you for this one.”

You almost choked on your sticky pudding at his sudden appearance. You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “Why do I feel like I’m about to regret this?”

“Because you might. But trust me, it’s worth it.”

He leaned in, whispering his plan in your ear. The moment he said the words Enchanted Cat Choir, you couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out. You quickly disguised it as a cough, but Mattheo caught it.

“I knew you’d crack,” he said smugly. “Come on, you’ve got the charm-work skills I need. Let’s make history.”

Rolling your eyes, you relented, muttering, “Fine. But if this backfires, I’m blaming you.”

Umbridge, resplendent in her usual bubblegum pink, was holding court at her table, surrounded by Ministry sycophants who feigned interest in her saccharine stories. Mattheo and you worked quietly from behind the scenes.

First, Mattheo enchanted a tray of floating teacups to swirl toward her table. The tea inside the cups wasn’t ordinary: it was infused with a harmless but temporary truth serum. As Umbridge took a dainty sip, she began to spout off every embarrassing secret she’d ever tried to keep hidden.

“Oh, how delightful!” she trilled, before adding in an uncharacteristically loud voice, “Of course, I only like my little cats because they don’t argue, unlike those dimwitted Ministry fools I’m forced to tolerate every day.” Her tablemates froze, eyes wide, while someone at the next table audibly choked on their drink.

As murmurs rippled through the crowd, Mattheo nudged you. “Phase two. Ready?”

With a flick of your wand, you activated the pièce de résistance: the Enchanted Cat Choir. Dozens of Umbridge’s fluffy, glowing cats floated down from the enchanted ceiling, meowing in unison to the tune of “Jingle Bells.” Luckily for you guys, she had brought them with her for some reason, and they were waiting impatiently in her carriage. Instead of the usual lyrics, the song had been cleverly charmed to include lines about Umbridge’s many humiliating moments.

The room erupted into laughter as the cats circled her, their glowing forms casting mocking shadows on her flustered, pink face.

“What-what is the meaning of this?” Umbridge screeched, her high-pitched voice nearly drowning out the cat choir. She jumped to her feet, trying to bat away the floating felines, but they simply meowed louder, their jabs growing more pointed:

“Frogs and frills, her tea’s a spill,

Her reign was such a mess,

Tried to rule with an iron quill,

But now she’s just a jest!”

You could barely breathe, cracking up with laughter as you watched her flounder, a mix of fury and embarrassment painting her face crimson.

Mattheo leaned in, his voice low and full of mischief. “Admit it, y/l/n. This is the best thing you’ve ever seen.”

You wiped a tear from your eye, finally surrendering. “Okay, fine. This? This was genius.”

As Umbridge stormed out of the hall in a flurry of pink robes and screeches, the crowd broke into cheers and applause. Mattheo raised his fist in victory, grinning down at you, gently grabbing your wrist to lift it as well.

“Glad you finally came to your senses,” he said, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

You rolled your eyes, laughing despite yourself. “You’re lucky I did. That cat choir would’ve sounded awful without me and my vast knowledge of charms.”

“Teamwork makes the dream work,” he quipped, smirking. “Now, let’s grab some champagne and celebrate our masterpiece.”

12:00 a.m. 

As the crowd slowly began to disperse, the grandeur of the ball winding down, you found yourself standing on the balcony outside the grand hall, the crisp December air biting your cheeks. The enchanted snowflakes floating gently around you were nothing like the storm Mattheo had conjured earlier. These were serene, peaceful.

A familiar, devilish voice broke the silence.

“Escaping already? Don’t tell me you’re finally too mature for the afterparty.”

You turned, spotting Mattheo leaning casually against the doorframe. His tie hung loose around his neck, and his dark curls were a bit more disheveled than usual. Typical Mattheo: looking every bit like trouble with a capital T.

“I needed a moment of quiet,” you replied, crossing your arms against the chill. “Not everything has to end in chaos, you know.”

Mattheo raised a brow, sauntering closer. “Oh, really? Because last time I checked, you were the one who upped the charm work on the cat choir. I’d call that chaos with a side of genius.”

You smirked, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re irresistible,” he shot back smoothly, the corners of his lips tugging into a grin as he slipped his blazer around your shoulders.

You rolled your eyes, but your heart betrayed you, skipping a beat. “Careful, Riddle. You’re almost being nice. People might start to think you actually like me.”

Mattheo stopped beside you, his grin softening into something quieter, something more real. “Maybe they’d be right.”

Your breath hitched, but you quickly recovered, shooting him a mock glare. “Is that your idea of a holiday confession? You’ve really got a way with words, don’t you?”

He chuckled, sliding his hands into his pockets as he looked out at the glittering view of the magical city beyond. “What can I say? I’m not exactly the ‘flowers and sonnets’ type. But…” He turned to you, his dark eyes glinting with that familiar mischief, laced now with something softer. “If I’m being honest, I don’t think I’ve had this much fun in months. Not without you.”

Your cheeks warmed, and for once, you didn’t have a quick retort.

Mattheo leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “You keep me on my toes, y/l/n. And maybe I like that more than I care to admit.”

You glanced up at him, his usual smirk replaced with something genuine, and you felt a strange mix of emotions. Annoyance, fondness, and, above all, the kind of warmth that no enchanted pine or mulled wine could rival.

“Alright,” you said, clearing your throat, trying to regain the upper hand. “But don’t think this means I’m letting you rope me into your pranks again next year.”

Mattheo grinned, stepping back with a mock bow. “Wouldn’t dream of it, darling. But I will keep the seat next to me at the bar warm, just in case.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “You’re insufferable, Riddle.”

“And yet, here you are,” he quipped, his grin widening.

For a moment, the two of you stood there in comfortable silence, the snow falling softly around you. Then, before you could overthink it, you reached up, brushing a stray snowflake from his hair. “Happy Christmas, Mattheo.”

His expression softened, and he reached for your hand, holding it gently for once, no sarcasm, no quips. “Happy Christmas, y/n.”

And as the clock struck midnight, the laughter and music of the ball fading into the background, you realized one thing: maybe chaos wasn’t so bad, especially when it came with a boy who made your heart race like Mattheo Riddle.

[windvexer]

Hiya Chicken, hope all is well with you! Something’s been on my mind and I would love your perspective.

The thrust of it is: can the will of the universe (if there is such a thing) override spellwork?

For context, I lost my job earlier this year, and have been working some magic to get re-employed (along with a metric shit ton of mundane legwork). None of it has been fruitful, and in attempting to troubleshoot, I realized that several of my spells had conditions along the lines of “this new job will serve my highest and best self.”

I’m still a novice at casting – frankly, I’ve not had much success with *any* magic (😞) – so I’m guessing the more immediately pertinent issue has to do with raising power/magical headspace. But, I’m curious if that nebulous “highest and best” would get in the way of producing results.

Also, where exactly does that language originate?? I think I’ve seen it when people talk about petitioning the universe for guidance, or getting in touch with your purpose/path in this life, but is that from a certain tradition or set of beliefs? And if everyone has a pre-determined purpose (or something else that counts as becoming your highest and best self), would including such a statement cause spells to fail if whatever you’re casting for doesn’t align with that purpose? Because real talk, my unemployment has run out and I don’t have time to wait for the highest and best job any more.

Thanks so much for your time, I appreciate you!!

It's New Age.

FUCK your highest/best self.

Even if it exists it can go suck a room temperature limp pickle.

Bear with me my guy. Let's be bears together, peacefully watching the sunrise of this idea over the serene forests of wisdom:

What in the good fuck is the point of being a witch if not to DO WHAT YOU WANT TO DO REGARDLESS OF WHAT THE SHIT UNIVERSE HAS DELEGATED FOR YOU.

It is changing fate.

It is CHANGING FATE.

WITCHCRAFT IS CHANGING FATE.

THEREFORE HOW CAN YOU DO THAT IF YOU JUST ASK THE UNIVERSE TO KEEP DOING WHAT ITS DOING?!

"Hi I believe in this life I have been assigned a True Goal and Best Outcome. I don't know what it is! The Universe could decide it's in my best interest to never escape poverty so my soul can learn some shit. But whatever this Best Outcome is, I will obey it :) blindly :) Spells, go do my bidding! But not if they change my fate. I'm on those train tracks, baybeee. Full speed ahead towards the same place I've been going since birth."

YOUR SPIRITUALITY FOR HOW YOU CHOOSE TO STRIVE TO BE A GOOD PERSON, AND THE PERSONAL WORK YOU DO TO BETTER YOURSELF, SHOULD PROBABLY BE INTENTIONAL I BET.

What is your highest good? Because I kind of feel like you shouldn't leave that up to a nebulous force you don't understand. My guy, and I mean this in the best possible way, you don't even know the widely popular faith (New Age) these beliefs are coming from. I don't think you understand this concept of The Universe; and yet you seem to be willing to place your fate in its hands.

And I think you may also be horrified by the realization that you are ceding autonomy of your ambitions, your goals, your needs, even the very core of your morality, to some fucking Power or Presence or whatever.

What is your highest good? I'm sorry, I mean this genuinely - you do not get to let someone else decide that for you. We all have to read some philosophy and smoke weed and look at the stars with friends and decide for ourselves what it means to be a good person who lives well. Many of us will grapple with this our entire lives.

There is no shortcut. You can't be your best self by doing whatever you want and delegating the decision making to some outside force, hoping that a smarter and more benevolent power will just cancel out any bad decisions you make based on a rubric you don't understand.

If we do have Highest Selves and soul evolution, I do not believe we can evolve based on always letting someone else make the final call for us.

YOU CAN HAVE GUIDANCE. You can have help. You can have plenty of it!!

That's what the witch's familiar is for. That's what tutelary spirits are for. That's why so many people turn to gods for guidance. You can research someone, or ask for a specific kind of help, and say, "hi I want to cast a job spell but I don't know sorcery great, can someone help me craft this so that I don't end up doing something disastrous?"

That's what I do all the time! I'll be about to do some stupid shit about twice a week, but the spirits who love me and help me are like, "Hey! please do not do that sweaty :) That would be Bad," and I listen to them, because they are not nebulous faraway forces; they are my very good friends whom I have known for years and trust completely.

But at the end of the day, they can't make decisions for you. A very creepy truth, that I believe is actually true, is that gods and spirits of Witchcraft will not make decisions for you. They will not cancel out spells if it's not in your "highest good." They will let you do anything you want in your own worst interest.

They will help you and they will guide you. But it's like I said: you can't end up being your best self by doing whatever and hoping someone else picks up the slack.

I don't think it's possible to ever achieve any highest good or best self by never making an actual decision.

And that's what it is, I think. That's what it is when you say, "let me have a job if someone else thinks it's a good idea."

That's not your decision. That's not your choice. That's not your power. That's raising your hand in the back of class and hoping teacher will call on you.

Fuck the Universe. Fuck the highest good. How about some of that live deliciously shit? When do YOU get to eat? Your highest self must be stuffed at the table of delicacies harvested from every moment of your life that you sacrifice to it while you are here with your unemployment run out.

Look in The Universe's eye and tell it to start calling you daddy.

Command. Do not ask, do not intend. Force; compel. Dominate.

next I visualize that the candle is full of prosperous energies if Earth-Goddess wills it in my highest good- NO.

"Listen to me. Listen to me, Earth. Listen to me, Sky. Listen to me, my own Soul. For 27 goddamn years I have been doing whatever I think you want me to do. Now you're all going to do what I want to do. It is not my normal voice that speaks, but the voice of my power. The power within me laces every word, it seeps into the air like water into paper."

Do you feel like someone is suddenly squeezing you by the throat? Do words suddenly become hard to find? Do you feel a bit dizzy? Do you have a strange moment where you can't remember why you started any of this, like you're not sure how you got there? You're on the right track.

"On this day of Jupiter, on this hour of Jupiter, I am giving a command. I command that the magical pathways of this candle be opened, so that the free-flowing and freely given benevolent powers of Jupiter will empower and charge my spell."

(Do not command Jupiter, of course. We're engaging in a little courageousness, not trying to get struck by lightning)

"I do not need to visualize the movement of energies. I know the truth because I have commanded the truth and I am a creator god born into this flesh: The candle is filled with the power of a God, I have the ability to channel the freely-given power of one of the Seven Governors whom has been worshiped by humans since the start of time, it is here and I have claimed it as is my right, as was offered to me:

This candle spell will bring me the fate I desire, because I have designed that it will occur, and no god, spirit, beast, or man will stand in my way."

It should feel fucked up, my friend. It should give you stage fright. It should make your palms sweat and your stomach queasy. It should give you the same emotional sensation as having a heartbreaking conversation that you know will change a relationship forever.

Sorry, reality. Sorry, fate. It's just not working out. And since we can't get divorced, you two need to shape up your act because right now I'm in charge of this polycule. When the spell is over, we can be equals again.

And if you do it right, it should make you have to sleep for probably about a week. If your health allows it of course, I recommend not trying to restrict carb intake for the next few days. Keep headache medicine on hand also.

Thank you for being a bear with me. I hope you enjoyed this serene forest of wisdom.

[quxyivs]

heyy i was wondering if i can request a angst fic for chan so its like you go to visit him and there is another female idol or something in the studio then its like he almost forgets the reader yk? then she tries to join in into the convo he ends up acting like he doesnt want her in it the rest is up to you bae 🩷💋

OMG?? THIS IS ACTUALLY SUCH A GOOD IDEA!??? Also tysm for the req!! 🫶🏾

Forgotten

Trigger warning ⚠️!! - Accusations of cheating, Cursing, throwing shit, blood!! (lmk if i forgot anything)

Bang Chan x Fem Reader

P.s- the fem idol will be called Jio 🫶🏾 (i didn’t do a spell check so if there is bad grammar i’m sorry😭)

-story below the cut<3

You woke up slowly from you and chans shared bedroom in your shared apartment expecting to see your loving boyfriend but instead it’s just an empty bed. You sit up and rub your eyes and get ready for the day before stumbling across a note on the kitchen counter beside some Pancakes with whipped cream and strawberries on top with some fresh fruit on the side too.

“Morning baby!! I had to leave early to start practicing for our new comeback. I made some breakfast for you just before I left!! See you when I get home!! -Love channie” As you read the note you felt your heart warm and flutter as you dig into the food that he cooked. After you get finished you clean the house and just relax for a bit before deciding to visit your boyfriend to check up on him, i mean cmon. we all know chan has a habit of overworking himself and forgetting to eat. You began cook chans favorite meal before getting in the car to go see chan. You call him to tell him but he doesn’t answer the phone and you think “it’s cause he’s busy!!”

You arrive at the JYPE building and walk in greeting the front office lady and then making your way to chan. You enter the practice room and wave at the other members. “Hey guys!!” you say as you hold the bag of food in you hand. “Hey y/nnie!!” Felix says as he jogs over to you giving you his normal big smile and hugging you. “Have you seen chan lixie?” You ask pulling back a bit from the hug. “Ah he’s in the studio, you know him..” Felix said shaking his head in disappointment jokingly. “Of course. See you guys!!” You and Felix finally let go and you walk into his studio to see another female in the studio. He looked close to her, giggling with her and smiling at her with a bubbly look on his face.

“Hey channie!! I bought you lunch!” You said but he just..ignores you? You assumed he didn’t hear you so you clear your throat to speak up but he cuts you off. “Just sit it down.” He said almost sounding pissed off..? You sat the food down then stood there listening to them talk about some guy at a cafe..? Did her and chan go out? Was he cheating?? “Hey what are you guys talking about?” You said but again, you were ignored. “Is it like..some secret I can’t know about..-?” But again to no avail you were ignored. After a couple of more attempts you just get up and storm out slamming the door on your way out. As you walk through the practice room everyone is looking at you and Changbin stops you from leaving.

“Woah what’s wrong? what happened?” He said genuinely worried about you seeing how your fist were balled up. “Nothing. Tell chan when he comes home his shit will be outside and he can go be with his new girlfriend!” You snap as you push changbin aside and storm off leaving everyone confused as they look at each other. After a few hours the girl leaves and chan comes out the studio room waving the girl bye and walking her out.

When he turned back around everyone looked at him disappointed. “What? Why are you all looking a-“ “you’re a fucking dick dude.” Lee know was quick to cut him off leaving chan caught off guard. “Excuse me-?” He said genuinely confused. “You dumped y/n to get jio? really? that’s fucked up hyung.” Changbin said crossing his arms in disbelief. “What!? i’m not dumping y/n!? What are you talking about!?” Chan said frantically and confused a sudden bad feeling rising in his stomach. “She left the studio talking about how your shit is gonna be outside and for you to go live with your new girlfriend..” Jeongin said and Chans heart immediately dropped as he grabbed all his stuff and ran out the building getting in his car and driving home as quickly as possible.

He got to the front door and used his key to get inside. Once his key finally worked he ran inside and when he came in he saw broken glass on the floor and blood splatters. His heart dropped to basically the pits of hell. “Y/N!? Y/N WHERE ARE YOU!??” He ran up the stairs to find you in the bathroom wrapping your hand. “Baby-!! What hap-“ “Get the fuck out cheater.” His eyes widened. “What do you mean I didn’t-“ You grabbed the wraps to throw at him which he caught. “Yes you did-!! I saw you talking to her, talking about some guy from a cafe, and then you ignored me like I wasnt even in the room!! multiple times!! fuck you!!” You spat with anger as your eyes weld up with tears.

Chan finally realized how bad all of that must’ve looked in your eyes. “Babe please. Let me explain-“ “Then explain asshole!! i’m waiting!” He took a deep breath coming in closer to you. “Yes we did go to a cafe, but not as a date. I was there to help her with her date. So if things went bad I could just take her home. I’m sorry I ignored you I just got so caught up in the conversation-.. i’m so sorry baby please don’t kick me out- please I love you and only you okay..?” His left hand raised to your cheek wiping the tears off your cheeks. “I would never cheat baby.. I love you..” He said softly his own eyes filling with small tears. You look up at him before hugging him softly. “Never ever ignore me like that again..” You say as you cry softly into his chest. “I promise love..”

I loved writing this!! Thank you Anon for the req!! 🫶🏾🫶🏾

[luvjunie]

hiii!!!

i was wondering if you can do some miles earth 1610 and earth 42 miles head canons if they were your older brother??

btw I love ur work <333

in which miles is your older brother and your favorite hobby is annoying the shit out of him

the brief mention of Jeff can be present or past, meaning this can be interpreted as 1610 or 42. don’t think it needs to be mentioned but y’all are siblings in this au so it’s obviously platonic lmfao

“Miles!” you sang delightfully on your way to his room, nearly skipping with the excitement of aggravating your older sibling. “Dear, sweet ‘ole brother of mine~”

“Nope, leave me alone.”

His voice, sounding just a tad deeper than it did last week, echoed from down the hall as you approached.

Miles was already up from his bed and on the way to close his door, but you somehow beat him there and leaned your shoulder against the frame. A proposition was eminent in your demeanor, and it made his top lip turn up in distaste.

“Hey Milesy. What’s up?”

He crossed his arms. “You stopped calling me that when you were six.”

Perhaps you were laying it on a little thick, but you’d already gotten this far, so you played on.

“And? Maybe… I’m feeling… nostalgic.” you shrugged.

“Spell nostalgic.” He challenged smugly.

“Anyways!” You abruptly changed the subject with a cheeky grin, the dissimilarity in your expressions comical. “Wanna do me a teeny-tiny favor?”

He couldn’t have shot you down faster.

“Absolutely not. I’d rather use the bathroom after Dad.”

You cringed at the thought. Was he that unwilling?

“Why not?”

“Are you crazy?” Miles gawked. “I got my door taken off the hinges the last time you asked for a ‘teeny-tiny favor’,” he quoted the words with his fingers. “Get somebody else to do it—“

“Wait!” You foiled his sudden attempt to shut his door by using your right foot to stop it— the foot in question, currently clad in a fuzzy, christmas themed sock.

It was the middle of April. But that wasn’t important.

Miles’ hazel eyes agitatedly narrowed at you between the small gap you’d managed to keep open. You both knew he could easily close his door if he really tried, but he didn’t want to hurt you. Though he was considering it.

“Pleaaaseee?” Hands clasped to accompany your begging, you whined at him in a tone that made him grimace.

“Y/n, what did I just say?” He grumbled. “No escuchas. (you don’t listen). It’s like you were born without ears or something.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask you for!”

He shook his head, “I don’t need to!Knowing you, it’s something stupid.”

Making his way to the kitchen, Miles immediately recognized the scent on the hoodie you were wearing when he brushed past your shoulder.

It was the one you’d bought him last year as a birthday gift. He hadn’t noticed it was missing until now, and after it being in your possession for God knows how long, the remnants of his cologne were now drowned out by some tooty-fruity ass body spritz that had his head hurting.

“And stop wearing my clothes, dude. You always give ‘em back smelling like Victoria Body Works and argon oil. That’s if you even give them back.”

Yeah, ‘Victoria Body Works’ was definitely not a thing.

Hot on his heels like a cold that medicine just couldn’t kick, your brows pinched together while you accompanied him through the empty apartment on what you assumed was a search for food.

“It’s Victoria’s secret, dumbass. This how I know you ain’t got hoes.”

“Who?” Miles quirked a brow as he sifted through the snack cupboard for a box of something to demolish in an hour.

“You-“

“—Asked. Bozo.”

“Wow,” you scoffed, a deadpan look on your face when you went to rest your elbows on the granite counter top. “You’re actually ancient.”

Miles was only two years your senior, but he acted like an old head, and that was probably the fault of your Uncle Aaron. He’d spent more time with that man than he did in his own room, which was shocking to say the least.

Miles’ eyes lit up when he discovered a hidden gem tucked into a back corner. “Yo, you gonna eat these honeybuns?”

“You gonna do me a favor?” you shot back, head tilted with the confidence of your incredible advantage over him.

Miles kissed his teeth. He had an immense sweet tooth, and you of all people knew he could never deny sugar.

“Dude, this same box has been sitting in here since last month. Which I know personally, because mom sent me out to get them. Meaning your tubby-ass forgot about these at least two weeks ago!”

Your jaw dropped in shock. “I am not tubby!”

“Tubby is a mindset. Now can I have ‘em or nah?”

You paused to think. “Depends.”

“On?” he encouraged impatiently as you toyed with the hemming of your sleeve.

“When asked where I’m at, around…Let’s say,” you chewed on your thoughts. “Six pm tomorrow— and I know you’ll be asked— say I’m at Isabella’s.”

Miles gave you a skeptical look. “And where are you really gonna be?”

He doubted he wanted to know the specifics on why he needed to lie for you, but he thought to ask anyway. You were his little sister after all, at least one person needed to know where you were.

“Nunya.” you mumbled.

“It’s a boy, isn’t it?” Miles squinted, fingers pinching either side of the honey bun’s plastic in preparation to open it.

Rolling your lips under your teeth, you awkwardly shifted your position so your back was leaned on the counter instead, and spoke cautiously as you ogled the lifting of a few floorboards.

“Maybe… But we’re just gonna-“

“Alright, alright. I got you. I’on need details.” Miles scooped the entire box of his well-earned treats into the cradle of his arm, then reached the other over your head to close all the cupboards he’d previously opened.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

You stole the opportunity to trap Miles in a quick hug, tightly squeezing your arms around his torso on purpose because you knew how much it annoyed him. He never did grow out of being ticklish.

“Yeah, yeah. Move,” voice muffled as he was mid-bite, Miles separated you from him with two, rudely-stiff fingers to the middle of your forehead, then started back to the room he rarely left, somehow grabbing the entire jug of apple juice off the counter on his way.

He called out to you without turning back around.

“But if you not back by 9, I swear I’m snitching. I need my door, trust.”

Your face screwed into one of disgust at the implication. “Ewww bro, you’re gross!”

[eddieschains]

Don’t Push Your Luck

Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

TW// 18+, alcohol consumption, name calling, spanking (hands and implements), fingering, bondage, mentions of safe word, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), creampie, let me know if i missed anything !!

“You’re being a right asshole right now, you know that?” You huff at Eddie. To say you two were going through a bit of a rough patch would be an understatement. It wasn’t bad, just constant bickering over the pettiest things.

“I don’t understand what the big deal is. It’s just clothes.” He sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed as you two get ready to go out.

“I want you to match with me. Is it so terrible that I want us to look good tonight?” You threw your hands in the air, walking away from him.

You knew it was a dumb argument. But, it seemed like you two were drifting away lately, and you just wanted him to care about the little things.

You finish your hair in the bathroom, letting him get ready himself before heading downstairs and grabbing your purse.

You yell for him that you’re ready to go, and you hear his footsteps make their way down the stairs.

“I wore the jacket.” He speaks flatly. You turn to look at him, not showing any emotion.

“Nice.” You give him a quick glance before turning back to stuff your extra makeup in your bag.

He walks up to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Babe… can we please not fight tonight? I just wanna have a nice night out with friends.”

“Sure. Wouldn’t want to ruin your night by caring too much.” You mumble, before heading out the door. Eddie locks up behind you, and you make your way to the van, not waiting for him to follow. You hop in the passenger seat, scrolling on your phone until he joins you.

“Hey i’m sorry. Let’s have fun tonight, yeah?” He attempts to calm the situation one last time.

“Yeah, sure.” You respond, not looking up from your phone.

“I love you.” He says quietly, placing a hand on your thigh. You don’t respond. “I said I love you.” He raises his voice a little, still not eliciting any reaction from you. He removes his hand from your thigh and starts the engine. “Fucking brat.” He mutters under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

Brat. Okay, you could have some fun with this. The rough patch you were going through also resulted in a dry spell between you two. Probably because of the bickering if you had to pinpoint a reason.

You knew the arguments were stupid and petty, and you wanted them to stop. But, you also knew if there was one way to get you back to where you were, it was by having him fuck you raw. And if that meant being a little shit until he had no choice, so be it.

You arrived at his friends house, getting out of the van before he even turned the engine off. You can hear the music pumping and people laughing as you approach the door.

“Y/N!” One of his friends yells as he greets you with a hug. “Where’s Eddie?”

“I don’t know. Coming?” You respond. Eddie is right behind you, scoffing at your words. His friend shoots him a confusing look as you move past him.

You push through the crowd of people, making your way to the kitchen for a drink. You’re throwing back shots of vodka as you dance to the music by yourself.

A few minutes go by until you see an angry looking Eddie storming towards you. “The fuck is your problem?” He spits at you. You raise your eyebrows in question. “I told you I didn’t want to fight tonight. Now people keep asking if we’re okay.”

“And what exactly do you want me to do about that? Hmm?” You respond. “I’m here to have fun, and that clearly doesn’t involve you.” You push past him, making your way to what was supposed to be the dance floor.

You find a group of girls, and join them in what really was just throwing back shots and grinding your hips to the music. You don’t give Eddie a second glance, but you can feel his eyes on you.

“Is that your boyfriend?” One of the girls points behind you. You turn to see him sat outside, leant against the balcony railing, glaring at you. If looks could fucking kill.

“Yup. Love of my life.” You laugh.

“Why does he look like he’d rather be anywhere but here?” She chuckles, taking another shot.

“Ugh he’s mad at me I guess. We’ve been fighting ever since we left the house.” You turn back to her, downing the shot she hands you. “He just doesn’t know i’m doing it on purpose.” You shoot her a devious smile, and she throws her head back in laughter.

“Why don’t we stir the pot a little?” You give her a confusing look. She turns around, and begins grinding in to you. You take a quick glance back to where Eddie is sitting, and oh my god, you’ve never seen him get up so fast.

“Y/N… what are you doing?” He asks cautiously.

“Dancing… what does it look like i’m doing?” You smirk.

“Well can you please come and talk to me… outside?” He asks.

“Why?” You scoff.

“Because I need you to come outside with me.” He firmly responds.

“You don’t fucking own me, Eddie. I’m staying here.” You can almost see the smoke pouring out of his ears at your comment.

“That’s it. We’re leaving.” He grabs your wrist and starts to make his way towards the door.

You look back at the girl you were dancing with, and she gives you a wink and mouths have fun. God you hope so.

Eddie practically throws you into the passenger seat and slams the door. The drive home is quiet, but fast. You’re surprised you didn’t get pulled over on the way back.

He pulls into the driveway rather quickly, and turns the engine off. “Get out.”

“But i’m comfy.” You respond, curling your legs into your chest. He reaches over and unbuckles your seatbelt, pushing your door open. You take the hint and begrudgingly hop out.

He unlocks the door, and waits for you to walk inside. “Bedroom. Now.” He growls.

You run upstairs, giggling to yourself about what’s to come. You sit on the edge of the bed, throwing your shoes to the other side of the room while you wait for Eddie to join you.

Soon after, he makes his way through the door, slamming it behind him. “Strip.”

His words go straight to your pussy. You feel your arousal pooling in your underwear as you start to remove your clothes. Slowly. You’re not giving in that easily.

Eddie watches intently as you slowly move the straps of your dress down your shoulders, pushing to the middle of your stomach. He’s lucky you decided to go braless tonight, now exposing your bare chest.

“Hurry up.” He demands. You squint at him, finally pulling your dress down to your ankles and stepping out of it.

You turn to face him, staring as you stand in nothing but your underwear. The cold air hardens your nipples, but that’s not where his focus is.

“I thought I said strip.” He says, looking at the fabric covering your nearly dripping cunt.

“I was getting there.” You smirk. You pull your panties down your legs, stepping out of them and kicking them to join your dress on the floor. “Patience is a virtue.”

“You weren’t making it very easy to be patient tonight.” He removes his shirt rather quickly, throwing it with the other pile of clothes on the floor. “Now get on the bed. All fours.”

You comply, kneeling on the bed with your palms facing the mattress. You push your head closer to the bed, pushing your ass up higher.

You hear the sound of him unbuckling his belt, before making his place behind you on the bed. “You wanna act like a fucking brat all day? I’ll treat you like a fucking brat.”

You moan at his words, pushing your ass closer to him. He folds the belt in half, sliding it in between his hands before grabbing on to the buckle. He rubs his hand over your cheeks before snapping the leather across them.

“Fuck!” You scream, your body jumping forward. He smooths his hands over the spot again, before slapping the belt across you a second time. “Fuck, Eddie!”

“See, you’ve been a right pain in my ass for the past three weeks.” He says, slowly gliding the belt across you. “Telling me what to wear.” Snap. “Not listening to what I say.” Snap. “Then you go and grind on another girl at the party.” Snap. Tears are starting to peek through your eyes and drip down your cheeks. “Mm how many more do you think you deserve?” He asks, rubbing the now red spot on your behind.

“Three?” You question.

“No no, you’ve been acting up for weeks. I think at least five is in order.” He snaps the belt again, making you whine. “I know baby, I don’t like punishing you either. But someone needs to teach you about-“ Snap. “Respect.” Snap.

He whips you two more times, before gently rubbing over the red marks. He leans down, kissing the stinging skin. “Eddie… please.” You beg. You’re not sure of exactly what you want, you just need him to touch. Somewhere. Anywhere.

“Aww baby’s learning how to use her words. Good girl.” You push yourself further into him as he continues soothing the marks he’s left on your ass. “You want me to touch you darling?” You moan an mm-hmm eliciting a chuckle from Eddie. “So needy baby.”

He lifts his head from his place on your ass, squeezing and kneading the skin before slipping his fingers in between your legs. He runs his fingers in between your wet folds, gathering your wetness.

“Eddie… inside please.” You beg, grinding yourself on his fingers. You know he needs this just as bad as you do, so he doesn’t waste any time with snide comments.

He runs his fingers through you one more time before slipping one past your entrance. He smacks his hand onto your cheek, making you moan as you feel your walls clench around him. “What was that you said about me not owning you? Cause this pretty pussy sure acts like it.”

“Maybe that’s because you’ve just stuck a finger in there, dumbass.” You smirk. He reaches down and pulls you up to him by your hair.

“Wanna say that again?” He growls in your ear. You stay silent, and he throws your head back down on the bed. “That’s what I thought.”

He begins pumping his fingers in and out of you, hard yet slowly. “Eddie… more. Need more.” You whine, pushing yourself into him.

He grabs your ass with his free hand, holding you in place. “Stop. You’re not getting what you want, not that easy.” He pushes his fingers all the way inside, and starts curling and pressing against your g-spot. “You’re gonna sit here and not say a word. Take it like a good girl, hmm?”

You nod your head, moaning at the pleasure his fingers were giving you. Usually you’d be embarrassed by how close you already were, but after not being touched by anyone but yourself for the last month, you couldn’t care less.

Eddie continues rubbing inside of you, holding you in place with a firm hand on your ass. You start shaking as your walls begin to pulsate around his fingers. He continues as your walls get tighter, until he pulls them out.

You open your mouth to complain about the loss of contact, but opt for a loud whine instead. “Cat got your tongue, honey?” He laughs.

“You told me not to speak.” You spit.

“Ah so you can listen.” He responds, flipping you over on your back. He pulls the handcuffs off of his belt loop and dangles them around his finger. “Now here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m gonna fuck this sweet little pussy, while you stay put and keep your mouth shut, okay?” You mumble an mm-hmm as he grabs your wrists and places the cuffs around them. “And you’re not gonna cum until I say so.” You nod, rubbing your thighs together. Trying to gain some kind of friction.

He locks the cuffs around the bed post, tightening your hands against the bed frame. “Is that too tight?” He asks. You shake your head, signaling it was fine. He leans down to press a kiss against your lips. “Remember the safe word?” He questions, his dominant facade faltering for a moment. No matter how rough he was with you, he always wanted to make sure you were okay, and felt safe enough to stop.

“Loofah.” He laughs, remembering when you first came up with it. You were in the shower and it was the first thing that came to your mind. It was silly, but it works.

“Good girl.” He mumbles, kissing you again.

He pulls his pants off along with his boxers, throwing them in the growing pile on the floor. He spits in his hand, stroking his cock a few times before sliding it in between your folds.

He teases for a moment, sliding back and forth and tapping your clit. You squirm underneath him, the only way to tell him what you need without using your words. He smiles before pushing all the way inside of you.

“Shit.” He groans. “So fucking tight. Missed this pussy so fucking much, baby.” He groans as he pulls out and slams all the way back in.

He’s just got inside of you, and you’re already a moaning mess. Leaving you on the brink of an orgasm must’ve helped with that.

He keeps pulling out nearly all the way before pushing back in a few times, making you writhe and moan from underneath him. Suddenly, he lets out a deep growl, and grabs your hips. Pulling you into him, as he fucks himself into you at a fast pace.

You’re nearly screaming from the pleasure before he wraps a hand around your throat. “I said be quiet.” He whispers, his thrusts not faltering for one moment. You nod your head, as he keeps his hand attached to your neck.

You can feel your arousal dripping out of you and on to the bed, only furthering your need for a release. Eddie can feel your walls closing around him as you try to push yourself back from falling over the threshold.

He looks at you with a devious smirk on his face. He removes his hand from your throat and places it on your clit. Rubbing fast circles while reminding you to hold it.

Your legs are shaking, as a tear falls down your cheek. Trying to keep your orgasm inside is getting harder and harder by the minute. But, you see a glimmer of hope once you feel him twitching inside of you.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” He chants, he thrusts getting a little sloppier. He doesn’t even warn you before you feel his cum coating the inside of your walls. “Go on, baby. You’ve been so good for me. Cum for me.”

He continues thrusting slowly inside you, while rubbing your button to help you reach what was already about to fall. With a scream of his name, your head falls back as your body twitches underneath him. The wave of pleasure hitting you like you’ve never felt before.

His fingers continue to rub you, slowing down as you try to find your breath again. He bends down to meet your face, placing soft kisses all across your face before meeting your lips.

“You okay?” You nod, a light chuckle escaping your throat. “You did so well baby.” He praises, kissing along your neck before pulling out. “Let me go grab a towel to clean you up.” He pecks your lips before climbing off the bed.

“Hey, Eddie…” He turns around, eyes softer than before. “Can you uncuff me first?” He gasps, running over to unlock the cuffs around your wrists. He grabs your hands in his and starts placing soft kisses along the skin.

“I’ll be right back.” He runs to the bathroom before returning with a warm washcloth. Gently, he slides it across you. Cooing about how good you were.

“I love you.” He turns to you, wrapping himself around you.

“I love you too.” You smile, kissing his forehead.

“No more fighting, right?” He lifts his head, puppy dog eyes on full display.

“No more fighting.” You smile. “Unless it results in you fucking me like that.”

He laughs, pulling you to lay on top of his chest. “Also… I know you did that shit on purpose.”

You gasp, holding your chest pretending to be offended by his accusation. “Well it worked, didn’t it?”

[ooouuunahnah]

We all have our vices; for Izuku Midoriya it’s you.

Enjoy this Izuku x Str!pper reader one shot

Plz excuse grammar and spelling errors I did not spell check

Minors DNI

“I need new friends.” Is all Izuku can think about when the smell of sweat and ass is clouding his senses. His so called ‘friends’ have kidnapped him from his comfortable solitude of self pity and have dragged him to see an ‘exotic’ dancer show. Yea, they brought him to a strip club; to somehow distract him from the fact that the love of his life has dumped him and is probably screwing his junior.

He doesnt blame Ochako, they were both too busy loving their careers more than each other; it couldn’t be helped.

“PLEASE JUST ONE CHEEK!?” A few feet away from him Mineta is practically harassing a dancer whose resemblance to Jessica rabbit is uncanny.

His perverted friend is on his knees, shaky hands clamped in front of him and elephant tears streaming from his face. “I’LL GIVE YOU ALL OF MY MONEY IF YOU JUST SIT ON MY FACEEE.”

Izuku frowns his face up. “What’s that look for?” He turns his attention to the beautiful headache who helped drag him here, Mina.

“I wanna go home.” She rolls her eyes, “You’re a grown man Deku you’re free to come and go wherever you please.” He starts to stand up when Mina practically body slams him back into his seat and crash landing onto his lap.

Izuku exhales but it comes out strained, “Don’t you think Ejirou would be a tad bit upset if he sees his girl sitting on his friends lap?”

She takes a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, “We’re on the outs.” Izuku adjusts himself and leans back (might as well get comfortable since he’s stuck here).

“Ooh I can tell, you tend to do disrespectful shit whenever he pisses you off.” Which is quite often I might add.

She leans into me, swirling her glass of champagne. *sigh* “I went to through his phone.” She says putting the glass to her lips and gulping down half of its contents.

I lean further into my seat, it’s gonna be a long night. “And?” I take the champagne from her and buck the rest and she puts her chin in the hand that was just holding her glass.

“There are girls literally flooding his DM’s and I don’t even wanna talk about his snap chat.” I wince knowing that she’d find a pretty similar situation in my phone.

But in both of our defense, “They’re probably just a bunch of thirsty fans. What makes you think he’s replied to any of them.”

Her glare is deadly, “You both are disgusti- you know what tonight isn’t about me it’s about how my best friend dumped you on your ass and you’re being a whiny baby about it.”

I return her glare, “Oh I’m the whiny one but you’re sitting on my lap bitching about a few thirst traps sent to, and I quote,” (throwing up air quotes to emphasize my point) “your man that’s not your man.”

“You know what you’re hurt so I’m going to let that one slide.” I roll my eyes as she continues. “As I was saying tonight is about you getting laid by a hot stripper and possibly forgetting about your failed attempt at love.”

A mix of pain and annoyance flutters through my chest at the mention of my failure as a boyfriend ..and a man. A solemn expression takes over my face much to Mina’s disdain.

“Stop that.” “Stop what ?” “That face, stop feeling sorry for yourself. I love Ochako to death but she’s not worth loosing yourself over.” I let out a breath, “Well it feels like I’ve already lost myself.” “Well then,” she smiles sinisterly. “Let’s get you a stripper who can help you find it. ”

She jumps up with newfound enthusiasm. “I’m gonna find you the BADDEST bitch of the bunch. And she’s going to be all yours for the night.” She promises, I offer her a small smile then she turns and leaves eager to complete her mission.

She’s gone all but five minutes before she returns jumping up and down with the excitement of a kid in a candy store. “Izuku get up get up I found her.” She pulls on my arms urging me up, I eye her suspiciously

unconvinced, “You found her that quick ?” “YES. She’s so fine if you don’t hit I will.” I laugh at her genuinely amused, “Their job is to dance not fuck.” She waves me off and continues to lead me to the mystery girl, “Yea yea I heard that in a Cardi B song but trust me you’ll want to.

Before I know it I’m sitting down in a led lit room with a pole and stage, soft music playing in the background. “Hi.” She smiles at me, “H-hi.” I clear my throat, she’s beautiful, like drop dead gorgeous. I’m thinking 5’7-8, brown eyes, black volumous coils just above her shoulders, lips full and two toned no less. Fuck, her lips.

And a body that could definitely take away my worries for the night. She tilts her head noticing my staring, I meet her eyes again. “Um what’s your name ?” “S/N” (stage/name) “I mean your real name”, amusement lacing my voice. She leans into me ,“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would yes” my voice dropping to a whisper as she closes in, we lock eyes and just when I think she might come in for a kiss she pulls away and to my surprise straddles me. “None of my clients know my real name” I tense as she moves her hips against me. “Maybe I’m special” my hands land on her hips,

“Not that special”. I’m growing hard, in the span of 15 minutes she had grind on me in ways I didn’t even know someone could. She’s about to sit back down on me when I grab her hips trying to catch a breath. Stopstopstopstopstop, I let out a huff trying to contain myself and she looks at me in confusion.

“What’s wrong?” she asks and I word vomit, “Nothing nothing you’re amazing really but this is really REALLY turning me on and I know you’re just doing your job so I don’t want to make it weird and you feel how you’re affecting me and it creeps you out and makes you uncomfortable and-“ , her beautiful laughter interrupts my rant.

She makes her way to me and straddles my lap, it’s not weird it’s normal happens all the time”, she proceeds to move her hips directly over my erect dick. My voice is strained, “Does it not make you uncomfortable?” “ Sometimes but it’s part of the job.”

In this case tho you were very respectful and honest on your part, I’m not used to that”, she leans in wrapping her arms around my neck voice dropping to a whisper, “kinda turns me on.” My dick jumps at the praise and she must feels it because she picks up her pace quicker than the music.

My hips unconsciously meets hers and she moans softly at the feeling. My hands tighten on her waist, “Sweetheart.. I’m going to cum in my pants if you keep this up.” This time she lifts her hips up a bit to drag herself down harder on me and I shudder at the friction created, she leaning and whispers aginst my lips, “As long as I get off too.”

A smirk spreads across my face, “That can be arranged.” Before I can think to stop myself I press my lips to hers fully swallowing her moans and tasting her on my tounge as she slides hers in my mouth. Then I’m on her neck kissing licking and sucking anywhere I can, anywhere she’ll allow me to all while drinking in her delicious Moans.

She taste so good, how can anyone’s skin taste this good??? “ I just wanna eat you up.” I whisper aginst her skin, she laughs in response but it’s cut off by a moan when hold her tighter and ground her against me.

I can help but feel everything I can, I’m touching her waist her breast her ass, my hands would be in her beautiful hair if they weren’t already occupied. I can practically feel her through my pants with the growing wet spot I already know is there.

Her Rythum is slowing and she’s tugging on my hair and I’m cuming. I’m coming in my fucking pants in a strip club hunching one of the dancers of all things. The music has stopped and the sound of our heavy breathing fills the room, I’m still squeezing her ass cuz it’s a really nice ass and my hands have become content being there. “Fuck.”

I whisper against her skin “Fuck.” She repeats, I have a feeling she’s never done this with one of her clients before but I think we can both agree that it was one of the most intense orgasms we’ve ever had…with our clothes still on at that. She pulls back first and I lift my head to look at her.

She’s so pretty with her hair ruffled, lips swollen, and her breath uneven.” “That was..” “Amazing” ,I finish for her, she bites her lip at that. I place a kiss against her neck, “Let’s do it again..” She laughs softly, “We’ll see about that, maybe at your next visit?”

I’m getting hard again at the thought of coming back and sharing another mind blowing orgasm. I whisper aginst her lips, “It’s a date.” “Y/N,” “What?” “My name, it’s Y/N.” My chest warms at the confession, “You can call me Deku.” “That’s not your name.” I lean in and tuck a loose curl behind her ear, “I’ll tell you next time.” She rolls her eyes playfully, “It’s a date.”

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine being Stephen Strange's rival and a backfiring spell causes you to blurt out your thirsty thoughts about him.

“Hopefully this works,” You muttered to yourself, and started to make the hand motions for the spell. Speaking of, it was one that you had come up with yourself, a truth telling spell that was more brutal than the one already created. You thought that just not being able to lie wasn’t good enough - you wanted to hear whatever came to their mind when the question was asked. Stephen Strange had information that you wanted, and you were planning on getting it. You shot the spell out, pushing it hard, directing it right to the cornered Stephen. He was able to counter it with a reflecting spell that you didn’t know of, a strong one which sent the spell right back onto you. Stephen looked rather pleased with himself with that one, the stupid smug expression on his face. “Yeah, laugh it up, chuckles,” You said, your mouth moving at the same time as your brain. “That face might be sexy but it’s also really stupid.” “Did you just call my face sexy?” Stephen asked, lowering his hands in surprise. And you realized that yes - that is what came out of your mouth. “Shit,” You said. “You are not supposed to know what is going on inside of my head! This is a nightmare.” “Tell me what you really think,” Stephen said, crossing his arms in front of him, that smug look back on his face, the surprise having been wiped off when he realized how useful this could be. But what was on your mind was something that you certainly didn’t want to share. Regardless - it came out. “If we were to make out, I feel like all the hairspray and gel that you wear would put up a resistance and it just would ruin the moment,” You said, despite attempting to hold your lips together with your index finger and your thumb. The stunned look came back and then a short laugh from the sorcerer. “You know what - I actually really hate you sometimes but my god, is it ever fun to see you and wonder how ticklish your facial hair would be.” This was not good. Not good. NOT GOOD. You were backing up, and as you were, you kept saying, “Abort mission, abort mission, I’m kinda sad I didn’t hurt you because that means I can’t nurse your wounds and potentially see you shirtless - FUCK.” You turned around and ran, outwardly just spitting out curse words while Dr Strange was too bewildered to follow you.

Requested by: Anonymous

[randoimago]

Hi! I saw your requests were open and wanted to throw a kinda chaotic one at you! How would Shadowheart and Karlach react to find their Tav sleeping in the strangest places? Like why are they just snoozing on the ground when the bed is right there? Oh shit they’re laying in a tree like a jungle cat! Tiny closet at an Inn, oh look Tav is in there. How the fuck did they get to that tiny ledge on the cliff wall? Oh guess they climbed up because there’s a sunny spot, well they’re only twelve feet up I’m sure they’ll get down somehow

Finding Tav Sleeping in Random Ass Places

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Character(s): Karlach, Shadowheart

Type of Request: Headcanons

Note(s): Chaotic asks are fun especially with the chaotic shit that you can do in BG3

Karlach

The first few times, she got a bit worried when she couldn't find you. Her calling out to you like a lost cat probably woke you up from wherever you slept.

But then she learns that you sometimes burrow into hollowed out tree trunks and nap. Her claustrophobia would never allow her to do that, but good on you getting some sleep! Karlach can't help but make a pained face at imagining what kind of joint pain you'll have.

Karlach would attempt to take naps with you, but she can't. She's too big for most of your sleeping spots or she doesn't want to commit to how high up they are. Now, if you wanted to fall asleep while slung over her shoulder or something then she'd be happier with it.

Shadowheart

She's asking around camp about where you went because she wants to talk about something. It isn't until she sees the rustling in a tree and notices that it's you and not a squirrel that she lets out a, "Huh."

She's very amused with the spots you sleep in. Just call for her if you're attacked by an angry bird or something and you need healing.

While it is amusing to see all the random places you sleep, she would like to actually lay in a bed or in a tent to sleep with you (in more ways then one). Might make some "You know, I wouldn't be using all my spell slots to heal if you slept normally," comments due to healing any scrapes or fall damage that occured from you getting out of whatever spot you were sleeping in.

Taglists: @reo-the-leo @unhelpfulnpc

[blackcorvette]

Own My Mind

Summary: 1986. Hawkins, Indiana. It’s not your fault that you’re pulled into the messy secrets and hidden world of your small town. It’s not your fault that two of your new acquaintances seem to be fond of you, and not of each other.

Warnings: Language. Stranger Things central violence. Spelling errors, grammar mistakes, and rushed writing. Eventual smut… (buckle in, it’s a long ride.) MDNI

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: This is my attempt at writing a not so slow burn, self insert romance. I can’t stop thinking about Eddie or Steve and this is all done in fear of what Season Five will look like…Hopefully some people will find this little story entertaining. :’) Special thanks to my favorite editor, @djosfavewig.

The creaking is normal. There’s always odd sounds in here, dripping water and old wooden floorboards. The room is always dusty, making your throat itch if you stay too long. The smell of lake water and rust is faint in the air, overpowered by the scent of mothballs nested in old tarps.

It’s routine, every few weeks you’d come to the lake and check the lake house, one of the few properties your father had trusted you to keep up with. The tasks are simple, ask the tenant if repairs are needed, check the water heater that always seems to need replacing, and make sure no one’s broken into the boat house.

Rick hadn’t answered the door, but the tenant is known to disappear for weeks at a time- whether because he’s sleeping on someone’s couch or has been caught again. You brushed off his absence, then made your way to the boat house.

And yes the creaking is normal, it’s always been there, but the fresh footprints of wet mud on the floor have not been.

Holding your breath, you listen, eyes darting back and forth through the room in search of something else unusual. Thank fuck that your dad insisted on keeping the boathouse for himself, because that means his collection of tools are kept here awaiting use.

Slowly, you reach towards the wall, wrapping your hand around the worn wooden handle of a machete. The blade had been used to cut underbrush and thick weeds and shrubs when you dad bought the property- since then it’s been hun on the wall with the rest of the landscaping equipment. It used to make you nervous, how he would swing it so easily, how with one wrong move it could become fatal. And now, it’s the most comforting object you’ve ever held.

Holding your breath, you shift your weight, keeping light on your feet as you listen for odd noises, following the trail of footprints and mud. A few long minutes, your hair standing on end, but not a single disturbance.

The machete is perched on your shoulder, the blunt side against your shirt and the sharp edge away from you. You’ve just begun to lower it, to tell yourself that your mind is playing tricks after a long day- but then you hear it.

Shuffling, the sound of a paper bag-

A standing shelf crashes to the ground a few feet away- glass shattering and metal clattering across the floor. Some is sent into the water, splashing as you scream and jump back- another voice yelling even louder over yours.

“Fucking- shit bag!”

The machete arches through the air, you raise it above your head, eyes landing on the source of the chaos. A dark head of curls, messy and obscuring their face in the already dim light. But you’d recognize him anywhere.

“What the fuck?” You speak without thinking, hands tight around your weapon as he raises his hands and stares at you with wide eyes.

“Hold on- hold on!” He steps back, the light of the window now illuminating his face, Eddie Munson’s fase. “Give me a second, just don’t kill me.”

You keep the machete raised, swallowing down your surprise. “What are you doing here?!”

“Nothing!” He matches your tone, with hushed terror and fear in his voice as he repeats himself. “Nothing. Hiding? I don’t fucking know?”

A strangled laugh, your teeth clenched together. “You can’t be here- this is private property. I’m going call the-”

“No.” He steps closer, making you lean back and raise the weapon an inch higher. “Don’t call anyone-”

“So what? I’m supposed to let you squat in my garage?” You raise your voice and his eyes widen more, darting towards the window. “Get the hell out of here before-”

“Please!” He says in a shushed voice. “Look, I can’t explain but I can’t leave.”

“This is illegal- you’re trespassing-”

He says your name, still cursing in exasperation.

“-Oh, fucking come on. It’s not like you’re a law abiding citizen-” He gestures towards the machete- but you’ve already been frozen in place by his words.

“How…”

“What? You don’t remember buying weed from me? Four premade blunts-”

“That was my cousin, dipshit.”

“Look-”

“Stop.” You shake your head, pointing the weapon at him, earning a thin glare. “You just need to leave. You can’t stay here, I’m not your friend.”

“I can’t leave.” He stresses the words, pushing hair away from his face, exposing just how red his eyes actually are.

Not from drugs, you’d recognize that immediately after the summers you’ve spent with your risk loving cousin. These are the red eyes of tears, forced back even now. You notice the streaks down his face, as if he’d been crying for the duration of his time in the boat house.

It pricks at your sense of guilt, making your fingers loosen on the machete just enough to bring it down. You bite your tongue, thinking over your words before you demand an explanation from the man in front of you.

“Why?”

“Why?” He swallows, shoulders tense and his hands flexing in and out of fists by his sides, anxiety pouring off of him in waves. “I…can’t tell you.”

“Can’t or won’t?” You take the moment to evaluate yourself, trying to weigh whether or not he’s worth your time. “Because I’m not going to let you stay here without a reason. A good reason.”

“You won’t believe me.” His hands fly into his hair, tugging at the roots as tears begin to spring back into his eyes. “I can’t fucking leave, but you won’t…fuck. You’ll think I’m fucking crazy.”

“Just fucking tell-”

Yelling outside makes you jump, already unnerved before they start. Eddie curses, and when you look at him, he grabs your wrist and tugs the machete out of your hand, throwing it into the pile of junk on the floor.

“Hide.” He drags you to a corner, and your too shocked to fight him.

“What do you mean, hide?” You ask, snatching your arm away from him, eyes darting around for another weapon.

“Just hide.” He pushes you behind a shelf, then turns and climbs into the boat, pulling the tarp over him.

“Eddie-”

“Shut up.”

A beam of light, brighter than the moonlight in the sky, cuts through the room. And for some reason Eddie’s fear has seeped into your body, urging you to listen. It’s why you sink low to the ground, mouth shut tight and breathing as quietly as you can muster. More yelling, then the harsh banging of fists against a door. Then, it’s quiet.

Before you can move, the light becomes brighter, multiple beams from flashlights flooding into the boathouse and you’re biting your lips together in an attempt to disappear in the silence.

The door opens, and you catch the yellow of the porchlight you had failed to turn off.

“Hello?” A soft feminine voice, you strain to put a face to it, but come up empty. “…Is anyone home?”

Footsteps sound, multiple sets filing into the small space. The flashlights skirt over every wall, shining for prolonged moments over different corners and angles. Your heart is racing already, but it threatens to fail when one beam of light shines directly on your hiding spot, less than a foot above your head where the shelf ends. You press a hand to your mouth, squeezing your eyes tight and hoping that you won’t be heard.

Another flashlight across the room clicks off, and the one above you finally moves away

A voice you recognize covers the sound of your labored breathing once you’re sure the person near you has moved far enough away to remove your hand. “What a dump.”

Steve Harrington.

A graduate from your year, even a student in a few of your classes- now here, in your boathouse looking for…looking for Eddie.

Through the footsteps, you hear the sound of something being taken off the wall. Then the nerve wracking sound of something plastic being jabbed at. It clicks near immediately that it’s the tarp.

“What are you doing?” Another voice, younger this time, one you don’t recognize. They repeat themselves after more jabbing, more annoyed than the first time. “What are you doing?”

“He might be in there.” Steve confirms your suspicions, which only makes you clench your teeth and take deep breaths to combat sudden anxiety- as if Eddie had pulled you into his own spiral of insanity that led him here.

“So take the tarp off.” The younger voice says.

“If you’re so brave, you take the tarp off.” The jabbing becomes more aggressive, and you flinch with each hit- fearing the one that will reveal Eddie’s hiding spot.

“Hey, look over here.” The floor creaks on the other side of the room and a second younger voice calls out, another girl. “Someone was here.”

The first female voice replies, both seeming indifferent to Steve attacking the boat. “Maybe he heard us. Got spooked and ran.”

Part of you wishes that he did run, instead of keeping you trapped in here as if this was all your problem as well. Hiding like a criminal in your own space, not knowing the crimes committed.

“Don’t worry!” The young male voice says, sarcasm dripping with every word. “Steve will get him with his oar.”

“I know you think you're being funny,” More tarp assault even while he talks. “But considering everyone in this room has nearly died a hundred times. Personally, I don’t find it funny in the slightest-”

The loud crinkling of the tarp and jostle of the boat, followed by Steve’s startled yelling. He begins to plead, repeating the word wait- and you can no longer sit in your corner.

Just in time, you stand form your position and rush out from behind the shelf in time to see Eddie pin Steve to the wall- something pressed against his neck.

“Eddie! Eddie- Stop!” A boy, a few years younger than you yells. It catches the attention of Eddie, but he doesn’t release Steve- instead keeping his grip tight on what you’ve now identified as the broken neck of a beer bottle. “Eddie, it’s me. It’s Dustin. This is Steve- he’s not going to hurt you, right Steve?”

The boy, Dustin, gestures toward Steve, who attempts to nod but stops when the glass presses further into his throat, instead settling to answer verbally. “Right. Yeah.”

“Steve,” Dustin directs slowly. “Why don’t you drop the oar?”

Steve obliges, the wood clattering to the floor, which only leads to Eddie pushing the glass harder against his skin and causing Steve to wince and press himself further against the wall.

“He’s cool!” Dustin attempts to reason with the man. “He’s cool.”

Steve follows along, his hands still in the air in surrender. “I’m cool, man. I’m cool.”

Eddie’s eyes don’t leave Steve’s face, his voice taking a tone he hadn’t used with you when you’d found him minutes ago on your own. More dangerous, desperate to gain control of the situation. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re looking for you!” Dustin says, staying planted in his spot, no one dares to move more than they have to. No one has yet to see you. “We’re here to help. Eddie, these are my friends.”

He points behind him, to the older girl, your age and then the younger one. “You know Robin, from band. This is my friend Max. The one who never wants to play D&D.”

Max waves a hand in a tense manner.

“Eddie, we’re on your side.” He is trying to focus the attention on himself, on removing the danger. “I swear on my mother. Right guys?”

“Yes- Yes, we swear.” Max nods.

Robin follows. “On Dustin’s mother.”

A still very trapped and very rattled Steve nods as much as he can. “Yeah, on Dustin’s…Dustin’s mother.”

Everything is silent, except for the sound of your heart in your ears and the drip of water. Eddie glares at Steve all the while, and Steve keeps as still as possible- everyone else holding their breath until finally Eddie releases him.

Steve moves, holding his throat and trying to calm himself down after the threats. Robin and Max hang back with him, while Dustin keeps with Eddie, who’s now pressed against a wall and sinking to the ground defeatedly.

Slowly, you make your appearance known. Stepping away from the corner of the room, though you want to stay hidden for longer.

The first person to see you is Steve. His hand is still around his neck, rubbing the raw skin as his eyes catch your movement. He narrows his eyes, confused, but keeps quiet as Dustin speaks to Eddie, who’s still clutching the broken glass.

“We just want to talk.” Dustin’s voice is softer now, as he attempts to take Eddie’s makeshift weapon. Eddie flinches, keeping it away from Dustin when he tries to touch it. “Okay?”

Robin moves closer, kneeling to the ground beside them both, Max standing close behind her with a flashlight shining on them all. “We want to know what happened.”

“You won’t believe me.” Eddie echoes his earlier concerns, and it strikes you like fire. You had thought maybe he had said that in order to stay- but now it sounds like utter truth.

It’s just you and Steve, standing a few feet away from the four of them. And now you manage a better look, seeing the confusion in his eyes clearly, and the hesitation in his quiet- as if he’d betray your presence at any moment, but you’ve not yet given him a reason to.

And for the extra moments of secrecy, your grateful. It gives you time to think, to prepare. And once you hear Max speak two words- you know that you need those moments.

“Try us.”

====

Eddie’s story is something of a nightmare- sick and demented enough to sound fictional, but the terror and darkness in his eyes, the tears that threaten to spill tell you it’s nothing but the honesty of a tragedy.

“Her body just, like, lifted up into the air and..” Eddie sighs, eyes distant as he explains what had happened to Chrissy in the trailer the night before. “And she just hung there. In the air… And her bones…”

He closes his eyes, pain laced in the action, conveying everything he can’t say with a formed word. Everyone watches, listens to the trepidation, and Eddie sits there in silent agony.

“Her bones started to snap.” His expressions mirror his fear, born of anger. “Her eyes, man. It…it was like there was something inside her head, pulling. I-”

The cracking of his voice is what moves you forward, your hand settling on his back in an effort to comfort something that can not be soothed.

“I didn’t know what to do, so I…” Every word eats him up, tearing away any sense of ease and replacing it with what you know is nothing but grief and deep cemented unrest. “I ran away. I left her there.”

His eyes, having been unfocused and distant from the beginning of his story, now shake and focus on the people in front of him. He finally looks at them, seeing their own expressions before turning his head and scoffing to himself- a defeated sound.

“You all think I’m crazy, right?” He drops his head into a hand, rings glinting in the light.

“No. We don’t think you’re crazy.” Dustin says, almost begging him to believe.

“Don’t bullshit me, man!” Eddie’s voice raises, the pitch reciting his emotions. “I know how this sounds.”

He begins to cry again, and you press your hand firmer to his back, hoping the weight of it will help ground him, if not take away any pain.

“We’re not bullshitting you.” Max says, her voice stern and serious.

Robin agrees, leaning just a bit forward. “We believe you.”

Eddie takes a deep breath, forcing it out sharply, his ribs expanding and contracting against your touch with the motion. And though you don’t know, you can’t even form the words to explain, something in you can’t help but believe everything he tells you all.

“Look.” Dustin says. “What I’m about to tell you might be a little…difficult to take in.”

His eyes, the girls, and Steve’s all land on you, as if you were an afterthought now brought to the forefront of their minds. You hadn’t spoken once since they’d finally realized your presence- but they hadn’t protested when you sat with them to listen to Eddie- they don’t attempt to force you out now.

“You know how people say Hawkins is…”

You finally use your voice, finishing the theory you’ve heard from dozens of people, the stories all returning now. “Cursed?”

Dustin moves his head side to side, as if weighing his choices. “They’re not…way off.”

His eyes flick between you and Eddie, and a sudden feeling of dread turns your stomach to lead, sinking low and making you feel sick.

“There’s another world.”

It should be amusing, maybe annoying what he begins to say. Like a story over a campfire, a tall tale someone uses to scare you for their own fun, but it’s not funny or anything- it’s just sickening.

“A world hidden beneath Hawkins.”

Your hand slips off of Eddie’s back, falling to your lap as you clutch them both into fists.

“Sometimes it bleeds into ours.”

In search of familiarity, your eyes dart towards Steve. He’s watching you already, his eyes exposing what you had hoped you wouldn’t see- they are dark and somber, already knowing what Dustin is saying, eyes that tell you he had witnessed it himself.

Eddie’s voice is clearer than before, tears having stalled. “Like ghosts and shit?”

Max answers before Dustin, proving her place in all this mess. “There are some things worse than ghosts.”

“These monsters, from this other world, we thought they were gone.” Dustin continues, speaking carefully. “But they’ve come back before. That's why we needed to find you.”

Max nods, solem. “If they’re back again, we need to know.”

Running a hand over your face, you realize that you're trembling- a response you hadn’t even been aware of. It makes you shake harder, folding your hands together to attempt to hide it.

“That night,” Robin asks. “Did you see anything?”

Max speaks next. “Dark particles, maybe?”

Eddie’s head is shaking, not enough to deny their questions, but showing his uneasiness.

“It would almost look like dust, swirling dust.” Dustin urges, searching for an answer.

“No, man, there was nothing you could see or touch.” Eddie shakes his head with a purpose now, actively denying. “You know, I tried to wake her, man. She couldn’t move. It was like she was in a trance or something-”

“Or under a spell-” Dustin says, eyes widened a bit, and finally Eddie reacts.

“A curse.” His dark gaze holds something of substance, of understanding.

It catches Dustin as well, his back straight if just enough to show. “Vecna’s Curse.”

Frowning, you look to see if any of the others understand what you don’t, but Robin and Max have similar confusion in your eyes and Steve, he asks for you all. “Who’s Vecna?”

Dustin doesn’t turn, his eyes still locked on Eddie’s, sharing unspoken thoughts and harboring immense fear. “An undead creature of great power.”

“A spell caster.” Eddie says.

“A dark wizard.” Dustin finishes, his fear having laced into his voice.

And now, the fear has burrowed into your bones, infiltrating your every sense. Because now, you have no other escape.

Now, you can’t escape.

[eve-reviews]

ㅤ Once Upon a Time is a thirteen-year old’s fanfiction that was found by the creators of Lost and stolen for a show in hopes of making some money off the teen population. If the half-formed faux-edgy characters or bad acting doesn’t sell you on just how poorly this show was made, the terrible CGI definitely will. The first season revolves around a character named Emma Swan, aka The Savior, coming to the town of Storybrooke where her son tries to convince her that the town is actually full of fairytale characters that are under a memory erasing spell. The show has a way of making you forget that you’re watching a fairytale story until later you realize that “Oh! They just had Prince Charming cheat on his wife with Snow White. And then The Evil Queen framed Snow White for the murder of Prince Charming’s wife by hiding that wife’s heart in a box in the place Snow and Charming would always meet.”

ㅤ While the first season seems Wild, each subsequent season tries to outdo itself. The following seasons follow a clear formula constantly trying to convince you that it’s a good show. The creator’s favorite persuasion is to twist the usual fairytale stories and then play a dramatic stinger underneath it as if to convince the viewer to say, “oh shit!” Each time it makes this attempt, I am met with an intense feeling, but not the intended one. It’s a burst of laughter, a burn of secondhand embarrassment, and the impulse to share it with a friend so I don’t have to go through it alone (and may I say, I think my friends are starting to get sick of me).

            The show is held together by attempts to be a show that makes the viewer sit at the edge of the seat waiting to see what happens next. These attempts often involve corrupting or redeeming a “good” or “evil” character respectively. While the show constantly brings in numerous characters from Disney movies or any other existing story for that matter (such as Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, or 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea), it seems to forget this sometimes, so we are left with characters who have been corrupted and redeemed 6 times alone (in Rumpelstiltskin’s case).

            Might I also add that the show often does a twist saying that two fairytale characters were actually the same one. If we take Rumpelstiltskin as an example again, he is at least three different characters off the top of my head. He also happens to be the Crocodile from Peter Pan and the Beast from Beauty and the Beast. This isn’t even counting the family tree. Please feel free to skip the rest of this paragraph while I sort that out. Rumpelstiltskin is the son of Peter Pan (who’s evil) and the Black Fairy (who’s the origin of all evil or something?). He has a grandson, Henry, who is also the grandson of Snow White and Prince Charming. Henry also happens to be the adopted son of Regina, aka The Evil Queen. Regina if the daughter of the Queen of hearts and the sister of the Wicked Witch of the West. She’s also Snow White’s step-mother. Regina also happens to be soulmates with Robin Hood, who’s previous wife was sentenced to death by Regina before the curse. And Robin also had a daughter with the Wicked Witch but he didn’t know it was her at the time because she was pretending to be his dead wife.

            I’m stopping myself there. If you read any of that, you now hopefully know how complicated the lore is and how near impossible it is to explain. You may have also gleaned how fucking stupid it is. That was all just a small section of the family tree. The actual lore of this show involves people who are definitively good or evil (but they can be redeemed) and authors who are all powerful gods who control Everything but are also just Some Guy. And of course, a being of pure light magic called The Savior (Emma Swan aka Snow White and Prince Charming’s child) and a being of pure dark magic called The Dark One (Rumplestiltskin). I forced myself through the show. High out of my mind if I had to. And I gotta say, folks.

            I kinda love this show.

            At some point it starts to get confusing what the creators were thinking while making this show. You drive yourself crazy trying to put yourself in their heads. Do they know how dogshit it is? Are they trying to convince me this dogshit is actually fucking ratatouille? Or do they know it’s bad?

            By the end of season 6, I started to get the feeling that the writers had finally decided to accept that no one in the universe would consider this a good show; however, the show must go on so they may as well have fun with it. They finally left behind the attempts and just leaned into how bizarre the lore they’re spun truly is. They timeskip and they say. “Hey. We know that we’ve gone too far. We know we crossed a line somewhere along the way. But buddy? We’re not turning around. We’re gonna find throw back some brewskis and have a little fun.” And they decide to say that, “Actually? All those characters you just saw? The seemingly infinite number of them? That’s just the start. They’re just one of an actually infinite number of that same character that exists in the multiverse. We’re gonna make a new main character and she’s gonna be Cinderella. Yes, I know we already introduced Cinderella in season one. But this is a different Cinderella. From a different thirteen tear old’s fanfiction. “

            And so it becomes a show that clearly knows it’s bad. And I sit there and realize I had fun. And I realize that I’m still having fun. And I realize that that was the point. I spent the whole show taking everything so seriously, and for that, I partially blame the show for taking itself seriously. But somewhere along the way, the show stopped. And I followed suit shortly after. And it was fun.

            I loved watching Once Upon a Time.

[littlestarbigsky]

Get to this when you can, it's absolutely not important, but you've done both Cherry and Soda in pain... but what about Chet? 😭

oh anon. aaaaaanon. you may not have asked for it but i decided to use this fic to dump my chet lore (and also project like a motherfucker)

in other news my next fic is gonna be chetcherrycola in the shower🫢 do with that information what you will

anyways in this one chet has a migraine nd cherry and soda are the best <3

“chet? what’s going on?” cherry answered the phone as quickly as she could, mostly so that her parents wouldn’t pick up the call first.

nobody spoke from the other line, cherry was just met with heavy breaths and muffled sobs.

“baby, are you there?” cherry started asking, lowering her voice. “what’s going on?”

“migraine,” chet gasped, his voice tense.

cherry immediately rolled over in bed, reaching down to grab her shoes that she had kicked off earlier, “oh, honey…”

“i can’t… he wouldn’t stop yelling…” chet sobbed miserably, and cherry knew exactly what had happened and why he was so upset.

“hey, baby, can you please take a deep breath for me? you can keep your eyes closed, just breathe for me for a second, okay?” she coached him, dreading when she would have to hang up on him to drive over.

chet gave a brave attempt at a few deep breaths, and cherry carried on quietly, “there you go, sweetheart, i’m so proud of you. is he still there with you?”

“he just left for work…” chet cried.

“okay, i have to hang up, but i’ll be there soon, alright?” she said, her voice trembling with a combination of fear and fury.

“okay…” his voice was already cutting out. “i love you.”

“i love you, too, baby.”

cherry hung up the phone and immediately started to dial the dx, where she knew soda was at work.

“dx, known by the customers we keep, you got soda,” he answered the phone jovially.

cherry couldn’t help but smile, “hey, it’s me, how much longer until you get off?”

“hey, baby,” she could practically hear him smiling through the phone. “maybe twenty minutes, why?”

“chet has another migraine, i’m leaving to pick him up now, but he’s gonna want both of us.”

“shit,” soda whispered. “what was it this time?”

cherry sighed, “you know what.”

soda seemed to think for a moment before saying, “we can go back to my house, darry and pony are up at that track invitational until tomorrow.”

“perfect, we’ll be there soon,” cherry sighed, pulling on her jacket with the phone still sandwiched between her ear and shoulder. “i love you.”

“love you more,” soda answered, in the same way he always did, before hanging up quickly.

cherry raced downstairs, grabbing her purse and keys and flinging the front door open. she was sure she was going too fast, it felt like she was driving in the way that she would usually scold chet, but she was too focused on getting to him to care. a small part of her wished she could have gotten soda first, but she knew he wouldn’t want to be home, at least not after a fight with his dad.

having a police chief for a dad had never been easy, it was all chet had ever known, but that didn’t make it less difficult. what was even harder, though, was losing his mom when he was seven.

imagine the worst thing a person can experience, the thing that wakes you up at night in a cold sweat, that you can’t even ponder for too long because it is so unimaginable. and imagine it happening before your brain is even done cooking, before you even have a hold on what it means to lose someone at all, you can barely even spell your name, but you can’t imagine doing anything ever again.

chet always got stress migrines, typically fueled by fights with his dad and worrying about him all the damn time, and they tended to get worse and more frequent around the anniversary of losing his mom. it broke cherry’s heart clean in two, to be honest, because even though it had been years, it still felt so fresh to him sometimes, like it had just happened. hell, it was probably why he had been so attached to soda lately.

cherry knew chet’s house was at least a five minute drive from hers, but she couldn’t remember it taking that long to get there. she just knew that she was parked on the street and was sprinting to the front door, grabbing the key from the flower pot outside the front door and pushing her way inside.

chet was curled up on the couch, his face shoved into the back cushion of the couch. his shoes were on and he was in his jacket, he was obviously ready to leave, and she felt something in her chest loosen. cherry carefully walked over, taking steps loud enough that she was sure he heard her, but also quiet enough that it wouldn’t bother him.

“hey, sweetheart,” she whispered, kneeling next to the couch. she was careful not to touch him, at least not until he let her know it wouldn’t make things worse. of course, it was all she could do to not pull him into her arms and hold him forever, but his comfort was her priority.

slowly, chet rolled over to face her. his eyes were brimmed with tears and his shoulders were slumped and shaky.

cherry could feel her heart aching, “you okay with touch, baby?”

he gave a small, barely-there, nod, and she hurried to comb her fingers through his hair, her fingers gently massaging his head. he pushed up into her hands, not unlike a cat, and gave a deep breath.

“you wanna go get soda?” she asked gently after a few minutes. “he’s getting off work soon, there’s nobody at his place.”

“yeah…” chet mumbled, his voice bordering on inaudible, but cherry was well versed enough with his migraines that she generally knew what to expect.

“okay,” she smiled. it was slow work, getting him sitting up, and then standing upright, but it happened. the sharp daylight once they got outside the house was like a thousand knives in his eyes, and he stumbled from the shock of the pain. cherry made sure to keep herself firmly attached to his side in case he needed to lean on her.

he piled into her car, not even bothering to stay sitting up, just laid down across the seat, his head rested comfortably on her leg. she ran her fingers gently through his hair, letting him cover his eyes with the bottom of her coat.

it wasn’t long before the car rolled into the parking lot of the dx, where soda was standing by the pump waiting for them. cherry pulled up next to him and he opened the door quietly.

“how’s the patient?” he asked quietly, gently pushing chet’s legs off the seat so he could crawl in.

“not so hot,” cherry frowned, sitting back in her seat and letting chet decide how he wanted himself oriented.

he eventually decided to sit up and lay against soda’s shoulder, face buried in the crook of his neck.

“someone’s having a rough day, huh?” soda mused, bringing a hand up to rub at chet’s temples as cherry started the final stretch of the drive to soda’s house.

“shut up…” chet groaned, and soda chuckled, kissing his head sweetly.

when they pulled up outside the house, cherry parked in the driveway while chet attached himself to soda, who happily maneuvered him into his arms to carry him inside. cherry ran ahead of them, holding the door open, making sure it shut behind them. she closely followed them until the bathroom, where she stopped to grab an aspirin and a cup of water.

when she found them in the spare bedroom, soda had already gotten chet’s shoes off and was helping him into some of his pajamas, a hoddie and pajama pants set out for cherry on the dresser. she almost asked why they had gone into soda’s old room before she noticed how small the window was and how dark the room would be compared to the room he shared with ponyboy.

once they had all gotten changed and chet had taken the medicine, they piled into the bed, chet’s back pressed against soda’s chest and his eyes closed while cherry carded her hand through his hair soothingly.

she sighed and quietly asked, “do you wanna talk about it, honey?”

chet shook his head, but still answered in a whisper, “it’s like he doesn’t realize i lost someone, too…”

“of course he does,” cherry whispered. “sometimes people just get caught up in their own grief that it can be hard to think of other people’s. it’s not okay for him to treat you like that, baby, it never was, but i know he loves you.”

“he’s got a funny way of showing it…” chet added miserably.

“what was she like?” soda asked gently after a few seconds, not pushing, just curious.

for the first time they’d seen that day, chet smiled slightly, “like sunshine. you remind me of her a lot sometimes, coca-cola. even when she was sick and hurting, she never missed any of my peewee football games or wasn’t there to cook us dinner.”

“she sounds amazing,” cherry smiled, wiping away the tear chet had blinked out.

“i know it’s been forever,” he sighed. “seriously, it’s been such a long time… but i still think about her every day. i still don’t know what i’m doing without her, i never have. it’s like i’ve lived another lifetime without her, but i can’t move on…”

soda hugged him close, “and you hate fighting with your dad because… you’re so scared something will happen to him and you’ll lose him, too.”

“something like that,” chet buried his face in the pillow, whether that was to hide the tears or from the headache, they’d never know.

“i know you don’t want to hear it,” cherry laid down next to him. “but it’ll all be alright. even if things go wrong, you are never gonna lose us, and we are always gonna love you, and i’m willing to bet chief baker feels the same way.”

chet let out a sound that was somewhere between a strangled sob and a sniffle, and they all knew staying awake wasn’t helping anyone anymore.

“i think it’s time to sleep,” cherry whispered, leaning forward to kiss his forehead.

chet didn’t respond, just grabbed her hands under the blankets and squeezed them gently. he snuggled back into soda, who just held him tighter, trying to ignore the tear slipping down his cheek.

“we love you so much,” soda whispered. “we’re not going anywhere, just rest.”

[depressopax]

hey! Are you good? Hope so!

So I don’t really know how this requests work, and I’ve read the rules you wrote so I’m so sorry if I do something wrong, if you can of course, could you do some fluff/comfort with Sergio Marquina from La casa de papel? Something like she risks herself for him because of a mistake that the guys did from inside the heist, and as they were the only ones out there and he was working with something else, she goes and solves the problem herself, but she puts herself in risk and Sergio is super worried but feeling loved and wanted at the same time.

Even if you can’t do it thank you for your time and attention anyway, have a good day!

HIII! Thank you for the request!  Sorry it took a while, but here it is!  I changed some things up, but tried keeping to the suggested plot.  I hope you like it and thanks for your patience!  Have a good day! <3

I did it for love

Fandom - La casa de papel

The Professor/Sergio Marquina x gn!reader

Pairing: The Professor x gender neutral reader Genre: Hurt/comfort Warning(s): Spoilers for LCDP! Injury, guns, Berlin being a jerk lol, cuss words and insults. Reader is referred to as "Athens" and is gender-neutral, goes by they/them! Words: 1.5K Summary: After The Professor dissapears, Reader is dissapointed and tries dealing with the hostages alone. English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3 || AO3 link || Masterlist || Request ||

“What happens if the plan goes south?” The others grunted at the question.

“Athens… Por favor! Have some faith in us.” Berlin chanted with a smug grin. 

How you wish you could erase it from his face. Instead, you turned to look at the Professor. He adjusted his glasses. 

“If it would go south… I’ll be there to guide you all. Remember, I’ll be one call away. And you have Berlin to handle whatever dangers you might face.”

I’ll be there. - One call away.

Bullshit.

24 hours have almost gone by without a sign of life from the Professor. Shit is escalating. With arguments, disagreements, Berlin’s cruelness and Tokyo’s pathetic attempts to overpower him, together with Denver and Rio, the crew is totally fucked. 

You don’t know what’s worse - the fact that the plan is falling apart, the Professor's betrayal - or the fact that you, despite all- feels worried for him. You want to be angry, you should be angry. Still… The worry grows. Did he get arrested? Is he hurt? Why the hell isn’t he calling?! With determined steps, you walk into the office that is used to communicate with the Professor. Berlin is the only one allowed to keep in touch with him. But the plan is going south. Berlin has lost his mind, so has Tokyo. Who gives a damn if you break one rule? So you call him on the red phone. You wait, and wait, and wait… You repeat the same procedure three times before slamming the plastic phone back in its place. 

When leaving the room, Berlin stands outside the door. He’s leaning against the wall and looks smug.

“Athens. Are you sneaking around?” 

But you don’t have the energy to reply. As you walk off, he grabs your arm. 

“Let go!” you hiss.

“You tried calling him, didn’t ya?” 

“So what? At least I’m not sleeping with a hostage! I haven’t killed anyone, fuck! I haven’t raised my gun once. I have followed you, and the Professor since the start. But you? You and the others?” You laugh and shake your head. “No. You just had to ruin it. And now? The Professor is gone.” 

Berlin's grip around your arm tightens and his face twists into a look of pure madness. 

“I’m in charge here, Athens. Know your damn place.” he hisses right back at you and for the first time you feel threatened by him. 

Suddenly… Gunshots. And the scream of frightened hostages.

Berlin lets go of you and for the anger towards each other fades. Disagreement asides, you have a job to do. Together, you grab the guns and run. 

Is this the time when I’ll have to use the gun? You think and hold it out like a shield  as you run straight into the room where the hostages are kept. 

Arturito you idiot.

A confused and angry Denver's stands with his arms in the air and a gun to his head. Without thinking twice you sneak down the stairs. You must look wild, with fury in your eyes and a raised gun. Of course no hostage dares to warn Arturo about your presence.

“Drop the gun, Arturito.” He flinches when realizing someone’s behind him. His few seconds of fright is all it takes to regain control of the situation. 

“You ok, Denver?” 

“Yea, thank you, Athens. Let’s deal with this son of a bitch.” you both stare at Arturo. 

How he got the gun, you don’t know. But this could've ended poorly. Really poorly. Just as the situation is under control, it happens. “Athens!” Denver yells and raises his gun. You turn around, and suddenly something slaps into the side of your head.

A sharp pain courses through your body and you fall. 

“Athens? A word, please.” The professor had said to you, after class. The others left and you stayed. 

“Yea? What’s up?” 

You both sat down and the bearded man looked at you. 

“You’re worried. About the plan”

“Well… Yes, I am.” you had admitted. “No offense, Professor, but… What if something happens? And what if you don’t answer the phone when we need you, for some reason?”

“If that happens, Berlin will take over for me. Do you trust me, Athens?” A nod in reply. “My top priority is safety for you and the others. I promise to get all of you out. Okay?”

“Okay.” 

He smiled reassuringly at you and from nowhere… A warm feeling spread through your body. You’d never had him smile at you before. That day, you’d been at the Toledo House for two months. Professor saved your life and ever since he took you under his wings, you felt something towards him. Something besides friendship. 

“Do you trust me?” you had asked. He seemed startled and adjusted his glasses whilst nodding.“Of course I do, Athens.”

“You’re a good person, Professor.”

He blushed up.

“Uhm, thank you.” 

“I mean it.” 

During those two months, the two of you had built a connection. Both could feel it, but denied it. Mainly because of the “No relationships” rule. But you couldn’t help it. You wanted him. When you moved closer to him, he didn’t say anything. But when you leaned forward…

“Athens.” His voice was firm. 

“Sorry.”

“You know the rules.” He stood up and tried meeting your eyes, but eye contact was the last thing you wanted. You looked away in shame. 

“Sorry.”

He sighed and walked closer again.

“It’s ok. But I don’t feel the same. I’m sorry.” he turned to leave the classroom, but then added. “You’re a good person, Athens. And I trust you. Don’t you forget that.” 

He hurries back to the hideout. That was a close shot. Sergio had gone back to the Toledo House to plant some false evidence for the dear police force. But he didn’t expect that he’d almost get caught. When he enters the room, the phone is ringing. He’s ashamed. It’s been 24 hours. 

He, the mastermind of the heist, left his team to fight alone. He hates himself for it.

My top priority is safety for you and the others. I promise to get all of you out. Okay?

That’s what he once told Athens. They probably hate him now, all of them… But the thought of you hating him, that hurts. He picks up the phone.

“Berlin.” “Where the hell have you been?” his half-brother hisses on the phone.

“I had to fix some things. Sorry.”

Berlin sighs.

“Alright. Well, shit is going down here. The hostages tried escaping. They wounded Athens.” 

Sergio almost drops the phone. Athens. Athens. 

“Are they ok?!” 

“Will be. They’re unconscious right now.” 

Berlin continues updating him about the situation at the Royal Mint, but the Professor, the mastermind behind the heist, and the calm man with a plan for everything - isn’t listening. He’s thinking of you. Your smile, laughter, and the confession… And now, you’re wounded, all because of him. He broke his first rule, because at this very moment he realizes he indeed likes you.

More than a friend. 

After giving Berlin and the others instructions on how to handle the hostages, he scrolls through the security cameras, to keep the team updated in case he sees something shady. But his eyes remain on the camera showing the room you’re in. He just wants to see you wake up and make sure you’re ok. And finally, you blink your eyes open. At first, you feel a bit disoriented. Then the memories come back. The hostages. As you sit up, the room spins and you have to lay down again with a grunt. You hold yourself up on your elbows and take deep breaths. The back of your head feels sore. 

Sergio almost throws himself over the red phone as he sees you’re awake. When the phone rings, you pick up.

“Professor?” “Athens…” He whispers, letting out a loud sigh in relief. Guilt washes over him and he rubs his forehead. “I’m so sorry”

“It wasn’t your fault. I was acting reckless.” “I promised I’d be there, Athens. And I wasn't…”

“Alright then… We’re both idiots.” 

He laughs at this, and without realizing it, he’s crying, too.

“But I’m the biggest idiot.” “Can’t argue with that, Prof.”

“I’ll make it up to you, somehow. I promise.”

“Are you ok, Prof?” He can hear the worry in your voice and it both flusters him and makes the guilt worse. You just got injured by a damn hostage, but worried for him?

“I’m just glad to hear your voice.”

The silence is comfortable.

“I should go back and help the others…”

“Athens. No. You need to rest.” 

“But I-” but when you sit up, everything spins again. “...Ok.” “I wish I was there right now. To protect you.” Sergio realizes what he just confessed too, and how it might come across. But he doesn’t care. He means it. 

“I’ll hold you to your words.” 

With that, Sergio finds the strength and motivation needed to be a good leader again. He’ll get you out of the Royal Mint. You and the others. And after he’s done that - He will never let you go.

Thanks for reading! If you've made it this far - Please check out my very first chapter fanfiction! I'll link it down below. It would mean a lot to me, if not to read but to like or share! Thank you. <3 Take care!!