#'YOU NEVER FUCKED WITH KEN. BARBIE NEVER FUCKED WITH KEN.' HE'S SO RIGHT

[cheonstapes]

^^ Hello, how are you. Idk if this is the right place to send a request since I’m new to tumblr lol. I would like to make a request though it may seem a little weird. May I request Miguel O’Hara/Fem Spider-barbie reader. Reader’s outgoing and cheerful she has the aesthetic of a Barbie and gets along with other spiders, she’s not actual barbie doll btw lol. Miguel could be yelling and giving other spiders a hard time but whenever Spider Barbie’s around he’s the complete opposite. Spider barbie always helps calm him down whenever he loses his temper. Maybe one day he’s stressed and angry over a mission so spider barbie decides to calm him down with a back massage. Could also lead to some smut, only if you’re okay with writing that. No pressure. Thanks! ^^

miguel o'hara stars in... 'HI BARBIE! HI KEN!' ヽ(>∀<☆)

a/n ~ first request!!1!! i'm doing great, thank you so much. this isn’t weird at all- i spent all day writing this, it's so cute!! i had margot robbie's cowgirl fit in mind for reader when i was writing this, she's so beautiful omg, i think it suits spider-barbie's vibe really well💕 went a bit heavy with the smut but miguel's hot so it's valid- enjoy my love!

summary; miguel gets some stress relief from his favourite barbie girl.

pairing; miguel o’hara x fem!spider-barbie!reader

wc; 2.3k +

cw; SMUT!!, pining, oral sex, dry humping, facial, throat/face-fuckin, soft?dom!miguel, sub!reader, he's a lil mean but he loves you, praise kink, worshiping, hair pulling, miguel shouts at some people, f!masturbation, squirtinnn, miguel being sexy, NOT PROOFREAD!! i have a headache

“and you didn’t think to fucking report it to me?” miguel was seething, talons digging stripes into his desk as he glared down at the poor recruits below him. yes, they were new, but they fucked up an important mission- he wasn’t about to go easy on them. 

“por el amor de dios, do you three have any idea how serious this is? you could’ve-“  the spiders looked at each other, eyes of their masks comically wide as the drown out miguel’s rants to try and come up with some sort of excuse to justify the failed mission. “-and don’t even think about coming up with some bullshit excuse.” 

they froze, shaking their heads and hands rapidly as they nervously stuttered out, ‘no, of course not’, and, ‘we would never, boss’- miguel’s disapproving gaze boring holes into their masks, he jumps off the platform and stalks up to them. menacingly looming over them as his eyes flash red, lips pulled up in a snarl as his sharp fangs poke out under his top lip.

“don’t let this happen again, cause i swear i’ll-”suddenly, the doors of his lab slide open, a cheery voice ringing through the spacious room as all eyes flit towards the pink figure strutting in. the recruits blush under their masks, hearts beating rapidly at the sight of the sparkly spider- known across the spiderverse as the most perfect spider, spider barbie. 

“miguel? i brought you some lunch! oh- hi guys! sorry i didn’t mean to interrupt, i’m y/n, by the way.” you flash them a bright smile, glossy, plump lips glistening under the lights as you hold up the bag of food- the spiders wave frantically, greeting you with unmatched enthusiasm. miguel’s breath hitches at the sight of you, masking it with a roll of his eyes as he looks down at you- eyes softer compared to the harshness they had when looking at the recruits.

“it’s fine, y/n, we were done here anyway.” that was their cue to leave, the newbies scrambling to get out of the room, feeling the tension rising, but not without sending you shy smiles and whispered goodbyes you reciprocate with angelic kindness. miguel watches you intently, eyes locked on your every move. his eyes trail down the hot pink set you wore, the fat of your tits spilling out the tight top, curvy hips accentuated by the tightness of your flares - fuck, you are perfect.

he lets out a heavy sigh, his bulking frame towering over you as he takes the bag gently from your pretty hands, making sure to brush over them slightly. “what’d you get me this time, hm? empanadas again?” he has a crooked smirk on his lips as he opens the bag, his eyes still trained on you as you sit on the counter, the prettiest smile on your face. “actually, i got you some sushi this time. thought i should surprise you a little.” 

he allows himself to smile, the tension in his face easing in your presence. “yeah? how’d y’know i’d like sushi? you keeping tabs on me?” you giggle, stealing a piece of sushi from the platter. “wouldn’t you like to know. i asked lyla, actually, she’s very helpful.” his eyebrow raises, glancing over at the glowing hologram who appears to be lounging by the monitors, a small smile on her face hidden by a small magazine. 

“right, guess i’m gonna have to install a ‘keep your fuckin’ mouth shut’ feature now.” he mutters, secretly enjoying the thought of you knowing things about him he wouldn’t dare to tell anyone if they asked, relishing in the thread of connection you two share. you stand, moving around him to stand behind him, stretching up to grip his shoulders. 

“you ok, miguel? you seemed upset earlier.” you whisper in his ear, hands running down his arms innocently. he doesn’t think so though, the soft touch of your hands compared to his firm muscles igniting a tingling feeling in his belly - a soft groan leaving his parted lips as he leans into your touch. “‘m fine, the new recruits just pissed me off. nothin’ f’r you to worry ‘bout, pretty.” you smile slightly as he lets the pet name slip out, your hands running more sensually around his upper body, dipping into the crevices and curves of his chiseled body. 

“let me at least help you feel better, mig, your shoulders are tense as fuck.” you smirk playfully, leaning round his body to peer up at his face, eyes widening as you take him in. his eyes were slightly hooded, wetted lips open in pleasure, a faint tinge of red on his face. he looks down at you, panting softly as he sucks in a deep breath, nodding silently as he allows you to lead him wherever.

gently grasping his hand in yours, you lead him towards his large chair, sitting him down as you slide yourself in his lap. miguel’s head races with all sorts of thoughts, the tell tale sign of his arousal pressing against the crotch of your sparkling pants, his hands subtly moving you down to ease the ache in his lap. your lips pull into a empathetic pout, hands moving gracefully along the taut muscles of his shoulder blades, moving down to the ridges of his abs.

“how’s this feel? am i doing good?” the sweet tone in which you speak has him biting back a growl, his cock throbbing as he moves subtly against the plush folds of your cunt through the fabric. “ ‘s great, your- shit- your hands feel amazing, love. jus’…keep doing that, yeah?” you nod, biting your lip softly as you keep up your soft caresses. his head falls back against the chair, eyes closed in bliss- he looks so unbelievably handsome, sculpted jawline, high cheekbones, he’s just so mmh. 

you couldn’t help yourself, not when he was practically offering you a taste of him. his thick neck, littered with veins of various sizes, laid bare for you. you slowly moved in, small breaths warming the skin of his neck, heart pumping and hands trembling slightly. your glossy lips press light kisses on the flesh, shiny, pink, marks left behind. one hand moves up to rest on his chest as you feel a surge of boldness rush through you, leaning in once again to suckle on his skin. 

his eyes flit open, gazing down at you as you mark his neck with deep red and purple bruises, his hand lazily running up your spine as he grinds into you just a little harder. “hm? what happened to givin’ me a massage?” he flashes you a sexy grin, tilting his head at your ministrations- not that he minds of course.  you don’t respond, only small moans and whimpers leaving your lips as you continue to suck on his skin. his hand moves down to your chin, lifting your flushed face to meet his. “thought you were supposed to be makin’ me feel better? i can feel that pretty pussy soaking through y’r jeans, love. this turnin’ you on?” 

you nod, your beautiful face betraying your need for him. he lets out a deep chuckle, hands caressing your hips as he moves you to grind against him, the thin fabrics of both of your clothes letting you feel the engorged tip of his cock brushing against your clit. he breathes out a stuttered moan, gritting his teeth as he stares into your eyes, how could someone be so fuckin’ perfect? you had to have been made to torture him, to make his heart race and cock hard to every time he’s around you- hell, every time he thinks about you.

“miguel…” your whining snaps him out of his thoughts, his focus immediately zeroes back onto you. he pulls you closer, resting you against his bulky chest. “yeah? what’s up, baby? what d’you want?” his thumbs caress your nipples through the fabric of your top, the rough pads of his fingers making your pussy clench tightly, slick coating your puffy folds. you look up at him, hands pulling at the thin fabric of his suit. “i still wanna make you feel better…can-can i suck you off, please?” 

has he died? has miguel died and gone to heaven? or was this some kind of fucked up hell, there was no way he was hearing correctly. you, the sweet, innocent, barbie-esque, spider he’s been silently pining over for months now is asking him, so cutely, to suck his cock. he doesn’t think he’s been as eager to say yes to anything as he was now. he clicks a button on his wrist, his suit glitching away at his crotch. his cock is so pretty. a trail of dark hair leading down his navel, the tip a deep red, the rest tanned, throbbing veins wrapping around his length. it was fat, and shit, it was long too- pre dripping down the side of it as it, twitching the longer you stared at it.

your mouth waters, tongue darting out to lick your lips. your nimble hands wrap around his cock, a small gasp rings out in the room as your thumb runs along his tip, collecting the wetness and rubbing it around the tip. his fangs dig into his lips, speckles of blood pooling underneath the sharp tip. he sinks deeper into the chair, his suit dissipating more to reveal his thick thighs, a large hand coming to rest against one, the other caressing your cheek softly. “gonna wrap those pretty lips around me, baby? ‘m so hard, need you to make me feel better.” he didn’t expect to hear how needy he sounded, but he wasn’t embarrassed, he’s finally got you- and he wants you to know how badly he needs you.

he guides your head towards his aching cock, a hand moving to grip your hair tightly. he angles his length towards your shimmering lips, rubbing the tip all over, smearing his pre-cum along your gloss. a low, rumbling hum reverberates through his chest, quiet curses leaving his lips. he finally forces the fat head of his cock through your lips, simultaneously pushing your head down along the length of his cock. the sounds of you gagging fills his chest with a sense of pride, forcing you to take all of his thickness. it was so, so messy. saliva and creamy strips of cum dripped down the side of his cock, wetting your lips and pooling on top of his balls. he smiles at the sight, head lolling to the side, resting against a hard shoulder. 

“my pretty girl, can’t believe ‘m finally havin’ you like this. i- mm i would worship you, if you’d let me. you’re so fuckin’ beautiful, baby, a walkin’ goddess. and your lips, fuck, those perfect lips.” his mind is all scrambled, the feeling of you sucking the soul out of him rendering him a blubbering mess, resulting in him pouring his heart out to you. smiling around his cock, you look up him, those sexy eyes of yours gazing into his- a silent reciprocation of his affection towards you. at that, your lips suction around him faster, tighter, coaxing him into filling your mouth with his load.

his breathing deepens, sweaty chest heaving. at this point, his suit is gone. he doesn’t bother hold back his moans, deep growls and grunts that make curious spiders stop and listen in as they pass his lab, opting to not investigate what the big boss is up to further. but you, you’re a fuckin’ sight between his legs. mascara running down your hot cheeks, gloss, spit, and cum on your chin, running down your neck and between your cleavage. he didn’t think you could get even more beautiful, but here you were. 

“i’m ‘bout to cum, yeah? gonna fill that perfect mouth of y’rs with my all my cum, ‘n you’re gonna swallow it like the good girl i know you are, ok baby?” his hips buck frantically into your salacious mouth, holding the back of your neck tightly to keep you anchored at the base of his cock, the tip of his cock bumping against the back of your throat. his actions betrayed his sweet words, hands gently running over your face, wiping away stray tears as his cock abuses your poor throat. he catches a glimpse of you sliding a hand down the front of your pants, pushing aside your panties to rub against your sticky clit.

‘so cute’. he smiles, revelling in your soft whimpers and your shaky thighs- the squelch of the three fingers you plunged into you almost drowning out the slick gluck! gluck! gluck! of your throat. “fuck, baby, i can hear her from here. she’s so wet just from suckin’ me off, isn’t she?” your fingers speed up, his voice a sexy, deep drawl- lips quirked back up in a smirk, but it was short lived as he felt his balls tighten, orgasm threatening to take over him.

his leg bounces, your mouth was just so wet, so fuckin’ hot- he couldn’t take it anymore. he’s waited so long to feel you around him, to see you take him so beautifully. his body tenses, a low growl of your name leaving his plump lips. his cum spurts out in steady streams, your cheeks puffing out from the sheer amount he unloads into your mouth. it drips out the side of your lips, you struggle to hold it all in, letting it drip down your neck. 

you choke on the liquid in your mouth, your orgasm squirting out onto the cold floor of his lab. he laughs breathlessly, he was so whipped for you. watching his pretty, little, angel cum so perfectly for him. his cock lets out a few more spurts on your cheeks, twitching again when you struggle to swallow his load down. he wipes away the cum on your cheeks, dipping his thumb back into your mouth to let you lick the remnants off. he smiles softly, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you back onto his lap, running hands up and down your back lovingly.

“s-so, d’you feel better now?”

“mm, think there’s just one more thing i need. spread your legs f’r me, baby.”

*por el amor de dios - for the love of god

-gonna take a cold shower now

#miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o'hara #astv miguel #cheonstapes #cheonstapes-films!🪷 #cheonsshowreals 🤍

[hyperfizationss]

Hii I luv ur work! can u do Lucifer with a fem s/o who is kinda ditzy-ish? Like, shes kinda stupid sometimes and asks Lucifer dumb questions, and to make it better, reader always wears pink? Like, EVERYTHING pink! Thx!

• being a bimbo overlord was definitely something,a lot of other overlords found it funny how you were able to stay in power before you and Lucifer were a thing

• needless to say once it happened no one was that surprised,Lucifer getting with a pretty little dumb thing after Lilith left wasn’t a big surprise

•but your relationship wasn’t completely like that,he actually thought you were quite charming and nice (which that man needs)

•someone ever piss you off?dont worry now there’s hundreds of tiny ducks in they’re house

•he treats you so well

• nicknames include: my love,my queen,my passion,mon amour (he speaks French),darling and the occasional my precious brat. But that’s only in the bedroom

•speaking of the bedroom…

•feels awful when he rips something off of you and you whine about genuinely liking it,he’ll buy you more of whatever he ripped tho,don’t worry

•if you pissed him off or made him jealous he’ll fuck you till your makeup starts coming off with tears of overstimulation

•loves to see mascara drip down your face in that state

•he never lets you top,you could be 6 feet taller than him and he still wouldn’t let it happen,it’s just a thing with him(you don’t mind it tho)

•he totally makes you sit on his lap whenever there’s an opportunity to sit,he doesn’t care if it’s not appropriate,your sitting right there in between his legs

•even tho you happen to be a ditsy,he treats you with total respect,even tho he is arguably much smarter than you

•but the one time you asked him what 6+7 was he stayed quite for a really long while (don’t feel bad I’m also an idiot)

•but also don’t feel the need to ask if he will buy you something.he will.don’t ask.just get the card

•also ya know that scene from modern family?

“I’m going in for a shower,you wanna join me?” You ask leaning against the door frame. Lucifer smirked, “Darling there’s a shotgun in the second drawer of my bedside table,if I ever say no to that I’m gonna need you to use it on me”

•you’ve made him wear a pink suit to go along with your color scheme (mostly pink)

• HI BARBIE!!!! Oh!hi Ken!

•need I say more

EVEN THO IT TOOK AWHILE I DO LIVE THIS REQUEST WITH ALL MY HEART

#fanfic #hazbin hotel #smut #lucifer helluva boss #lucifer x reader smut #lucifer smut #lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #helluva boss smut #helluva boss x reader #hazbin lucifer #lucifer magne #Lucifer x bimbo reader! #lucifer headcanons #fanfiction #hazbin charlie #hazbin vaggie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin niffty #hazbin alastor #hazbin husk #hazbin ducks #x reader #x reader fanfiction

[venusacrossthestars]

barbies

Pairings- Dad!Daniel x Mom! Reader

WC-1.1k

Summary- Daniel does in fact not know how to play Barbies

f1 masterlist

A/N- anytime I can slander Tika I will. IYKYK

Daniel had thought that he had the whole girl-dad thing down. He knew how to act during tea parties. He knew not to move during makeovers. He would sing, albeit terribly, during the Princes part of Disney song just so his little girl could focus on singing the Princesses part. He thought he had it all down, but there was one thing he couldn’t master for the life of him- playing Barbies. 

Everytime Charlotte asked him to play it always ended in frustration for both parties. It seemed that no matter what he did it was always wrong. On one occasion he had Robert, the Ken doll that was affectionately renamed, and Charlotte her Barbie- Margot.

 Daniel was laying on the floor, acting his part believing all was well. “Well don’t you look radiant today darling,” he said as he walked Robert into the Dreamhouse. 

This was all it took to set off the six year old, “No daddy! Robert doesn’t call Margot ‘darling’ he calls her babe and Margot calls him honey.” 

“Well why can’t he call her darling?” Daniel, genuinely curious as to why it mattered. 

“Because you always call mommy babe and she always calls you honey,” she stated it as the most obvious fact in the world. 

Daniel found it adorable that your daughter took notice of something as small as pet names and integrated it into her own little world. However, she wasn’t amused. “Daddy, you don’t have to play anymore, I can play by myself now.” She said, taking Robert out of Daniels hand. He didn’t have the courage to argue, knowing how particular she was when it came to playing with her Barbies. 

Later that night, long after Charlotte had gone to bed, the two of you sat in bed watching reruns of your favorite show. 

“Your daughter is very picky about her pet names for her Barbies,” Daniel tells you, remembering the incident that happened earlier. 

“Oh, is that so?” 

“Very much so, Robert only calls Margot ‘babe’ and she only calls him ‘honey’, and you want to know what she told me?” You hum in curiosity, Daniel continues, “its because those are the pet names we call each other. She then proceeded to relieve me of my Barbie duties.”

“As she should, playing Barbies is very serious business.” You tease back. “I was the same way.” 

“Why is it so hard to play dolls,” Daniel buries his head into his pillow. 

“Don’t worry honey,” you rub his back in soothing circles, “maybe one day you’ll get the hang of it.” 

“You never have problems when you play with her.” 

“You forget that I was a little girl once.” 

Every time Daniel, in his words, fucked up playing Barbies he noticed that Charlotte wouldn’t ask him to play dolls with her for a couple days. He didn’t want to sound childish, but it did in fact hurt his feelings. 

As usual, days passed before Charlotte asked him to play again. And as usual Daniel had somehow screwed up, but this was no ordinary screw up, this was monumental. He didn’t even know what he did wrong, things were going so well until they weren’t. 

“Mommy!” The little girl yelled, “mommy!” 

“What?!” Your voice carried throughout the house. 

“Daddy isn’t playing Barbies right.” She whined. 

In a matter of seconds you appeared in the doorframe, arms crossed over your chest, “what’s going on?” 

“I have no idea,” Daniel admits, “we’re sitting here and all of the sudden I’m not doing it right.” 

“Charlotte, baby, remember what I told you?” you remind your daughter. 

She nods in response, “I’m sorry daddy, I know you don’t know how to play Barbies.” 

Daniel looks flabbergasted at what his daughter has just said to him and looks at you through squinted eyes. “You told her I don’t know how to play Barbies?” 

“No, I told her you don’t know how to play the real version of Barbies, you think you know how to, but in reality you play the straight man way.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Baby, how about you and me show daddy how we play Barbies?” You ask your daughter, whose face lights up in excitement. She gets up and hurries over to her bin of Barbies to pull out your designated Barbie, Lisa. 

You move into the room and sit next to Daniel, “watch and learn from the master.” 

The three of begin to play and Daniel thinks all is normal, you are doing everything that he typically does, but things quickly take a turn. 

You walk up Lisa to Robert, “Hiiiii Robert, you look good today.” 

Charlotte, well Margot, quickly interrupts, “why are you talking to my man?” Daniels eyes widen, where did she learn this from?

“I was just giving him a compliment Marggie.”

Charlotte shakes Margot in faux rage, “how many times do I have to tell you that my name is Margot.” 

“Well I think its just the cutest nickname, don’t you Robbie?” You turn Lisa’s attention to the Ken doll Daniel is holding. Daniel doesn’t move or say anything. 

“Are you going to let her talk to me like that Robert?” His daughter- no- Margot questions. 

“See he agrees with me,” you move the dolls hand so it is now resting on Roberts shoulder.

This proceeds to set your daughter off. “I have had it with you and your flirting towards my boyfriend!” 

“Well what are you going to do about it?” You taunt. 

“I’ll show you what!” Charlotte exclaims and then lunges towards you and Lisa. 

Daniel just sits in shock, the noise of plastic colliding, your mock ow’s between giggles, and Charlotte’s laughter fills his ears. When he thought of Barbies he always thought of dressing up dolls, making little families, all that soft stuff. Not this. 

“You alright over there honey?” You ask your husband, who just continues to stare in disbelief  “Charlotte I think we broke your father.”

“I’ve never seen anyone play Barbies like this.” 

“Well this is how I’ve always played, but my mom did say once that I played…. Uniquely,” you shrug. 

“That was fun!” Charlotte exclaims, throwing herself into your arms. 

You cradle her close to your chest, “I’m glad, did you learn anything?” 

“Yeah,” Daniel responds, “that I truly know nothing about playing barbies.”

“This is mild compared to the scenarios I made up,” you admit. 

“This. Mild? What did you do to your dolls woman?” 

“I’m not telling you with such influenceable ears around.” 

“My God,” is all Daniel can manage out. 

“Hey, don’t judge me.” 

“I’m just rethinking my life choices.” 

“You asked me to marry you, you knew fully well what you were getting yourself into.” 

“Mommy?” Charlotte interjects, “can we watch one of those old barbie movies?” 

You groan. “They aren’t even that old!” You exclaim. “Which one did you want to watch?”

“The Island Princess one!” 

At that Daniel groans, “that’s the one with the annoying elephant isn’t it?”

taglist- crossed out names mean I couldn't tag you

@arieslost @miaa1001 @babybadger @k3nmakyan @livelovesports @aspens-trees @yeetskeetstreet @racingheartsposts @emmma232 @isalovestaylor @imchiarashelby1 @m4dyi @melissayalene-blog @gothicwidowsworld @lizzieolsenfan86 @firestormsandlightning @erjn45 @evelyn-4034 @vkncgzxf @naaanasworld @ladyoflynx @bre99 @foulsongfest @teenagedramqueen @kstyles-06 @asparklysoul @kodzzukenn @snakelore @lochnoch @hhppw7 @whentheautumnleavesfall @gxuh @clarasmagic @xoxonoire @annahowardsworld @estellabookreader @user2604 @babysitter19 @dylan-obrienn24 @sadisticfries @cocote1410 @prettylittlels @itsbwokenln4 @amandaauroraelli @wargetter @happylittlereader @2502zena @bathedinheat @itsmeeluciie @olivyamarvelgirl @justtprachisblog @its-cat-eyes @embonbon @nickxcorpse @accnt-1 @cosmoscoffeee @phantomxoxo @caramelahamilton @inejismylife @iloved111lfs @caseket @selsbackyard @alex0808 @blueberrysmoothie673 @sergantbarnesbitch @a-disturbing-self-reflection @bethiebeth12 @thereisa8ella @giada-chan @slaygirlbossworld @chuchiestpt

#formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo

[skullvis]

BARBIE SPOILERS AND THEMES DISCUSSION BELOW

I want to talk a little bit about how the Barbie Movie also showed the pain that patriarchy inflicts on men.

Because in the beginning Ken is extremely excited about it. He’s finally feeling acknowledged and respected in a way he’s never been before. It’s something that every person deserves and something that Barbie acknowledges and apologizes for at the end-that she didn’t treat Ken with real respect.

But the only way to ACTUALLY get and MAINTAIN respect in a patriarchal society is to be masculine the “right” way. You can’t cry, you have to be tough, you have to see other men as a threat in a lot of cases. This is painful. This is a terrible thing to have to maintain-just like it’s terrible to have to maintain the facade of being the “perfect” woman.

I really interpret the main point of the patriarchy as a conflict in the Barbie movie to be a depiction of how gender essentialism is incredible stressful and painful to have to conform to.

And at the end Ken admits that he really didn’t care about the patriarchy all that much and lost interest when he learned it wasn’t just about horses (also we Stan a horsegirl Ken). He hides his emotions and tears because after learning about the patriarchy he believes he HAS to in order to still earn respect.

And yes OBVIOUSLY the patriarchy hurts women (including trans women of course always-fuck off terfs) a lot more in a lot more ways, but a big part of feminism really is about acknowledging the ways that everyone suffers under patriarchy and gender essentialism.

It was actually really nice to see that acknowledged in the movie, along with the acknowledgment that these societal structures are really just made up!

Barbie movie was so good what the fuck. It deserves awards.

#barbie #Barbie movie #barbie movie 2023 #barbie spoilers #barbie movie spoilers #caps #pink #colored text #bold text #skulltalks

[writersblg]

how the cod characters would react to their partner having a hyper-feminine bedroom

It was late at night when you brought your boyfriend/girlfriend back to your place for the first time. Still having a few lights on in your apartment you went around to turn them all off and check if you have closed all the curtains while you told your new partner to make themselves comfortable. So they looked around the rooms - all painted in white with some greenery with timeless emerald green furniture - until they got to your bedroom. Pink. Everything was covered in pink or white. White walls, pink bed sheets, white wardrobe, pink lamps and carpet. Tons of fluffy and big pillows laying across your bed in pink and you expected them to be normal about this?

Simon

Closest he’ll ever be to experience a stroke

Never slept worse in his life

Starts acting like he’s in a haunted house at first

Literally hyper aware suddenly

Genuinely has a hard time adjusting since he feels so out of place

Has to smoke before coming to your place to calm himself down just because of your bedroom

He’s going to end up as your phone background when he snored on your pink bed

Will slowly start to enjoy how soft and sweet the room actually is and how he maybe doesn’t need a gun on the bedside table

TeenLoose Ends!Simon (shameless self promo)

Best place on earth for him 💕

One of the pink pillows is his designated one

Thought it was just because you never cared to rearrange your room since early childhood

Would see if something is positioned differently right away

Would definitely make sure all photos will be deleted with him wrapped up in pink bed sheets

Soap

Giggles

Throws himself on the bed in an instant and is off - you can’t get him to wake up again

Definitely takes up the entire bed

Falls asleep with a plushie in his arms

Will buy a few pink items to drop at his home for you to feel more comfortable at his place

Gaz

Weirded out a little? But never slept better

Will address you with “Hi Barbie” from now on (Hi Ken 💕)

Mentally gets ready for weekly skincare routines together the second he sets foot in the bedroom

He almost once choked on a blanket in your bed in his sleep

He’s so unproblematic I’m gonna die 🫠

Price

Feels like he’s in Disney Land

The age gap just hit him in the face and is now convinced all of gen z has a room like that

Once had to answer a zoom call while being surrounded by pink plushies and he got bullied BADLY by his superiors

Will actually start to find your pink sleeping mask for him really useful and bring it with him when he’s travelling

Alex

“Awh that’s cute”

Doesn’t want to touch anything because it looks so nice to him

Also gets very giddy

Will show up with one of these pink cowboy hats with feathers on your door step

Farah

Stroke; call the ambulance

But will get used to it after some time and will kinda have the chance to rediscover girlhood in a way

Will trigger a Pavlovian reflex after some time and gets super sleepy at the sight of pink

Starts to get cuteness aggressions with you

Valeria

Will tell you that you’re too soft but secretly loves the bedroom; definitely her favourite room in your place

Steals little pink items she thinks you won’t be missing and places them in her place

Will choke someone if something she stole went missing or someone looks at it for too long

Alajandro

Will take a picture and send it to a group chat. Sorry

Will ask so many questions as to why this room looks like that. Not in a judgy way - more genuine curiosity

Will sleep on the edge of the bed because he feels so uncomfortable at first

I hc him regularly drooling on the bed sheets 😭

Rudy

Will actually act normal about it?

You’re waiting for a comment but there’s none

Will casually slip into his PJs and get under the pink covers and fall asleep

I think he has a thing for hyperfeminine partners in general so maybe that’s why 🎀

Keegan

“What the fuck?”

BUT he’ll literally fit in so well 🥹 and get used to it

Absolutely will start calling you “Princess”

Will start buying pink stuff because it reminds him of you; but don’t force him to wear anything pink - he won’t 🥲

I’m going insane over the picture in my head about his Siberian husky eyes and black hair in pink bed sheets

Really don’t want to bother you guys but if you have a few minutes maybe consider signing the petition for inquisitor ❤️ the link should be at the top of my blog

#simon ghost riley #keegan p russ #john soap mactavish #ghost x reader #soap x reader #Keegan x reader #Kyle gaz Garrick #gaz x reader #john price #price x reader #Alex x reader #farah karim #Farah x reader #valeria garza #Valeria x Reader #alejandro vargas #Alejandro x reader #rodolfo rudy parra #Rudy x reader

[vivwritesfics]

Shine A Light Into The Wreckage

Chapter Three - Gasping For Breath

Bob Floyd was many things. He was an instructor at Top Gun, a lover of Tolkien books and a huge fan of coffee. But Bob was also clumsy. That was how he bumped into the table, knocking her drink onto her notebook. He felt bad about it. Bad enough to come back time and time again, in the hopes that she would be there. And, every time, she is. Each time looking a little worse for wear. It doesn't take Bob long to realise he has to save her.

1.7K

Warnings: Abusive relationship! Abusive hair pulling! Abusive choking! Forceful sex! Domestic abuse! Seriously don't read if you're affect by stuff like this (like seriously Ken tries to kill her in this one)

Series Masterlist

The stairs to the apartment were even worse in the dark. If she didn't already have which stairs weren't entirely stable memorised, she would have been falling through the floor. 

The apartment was dark when she pushed open the door. Part of her hoped that Ken had gone to bed, but a bigger part of her knew it would have been too good to be true. 

Hanging her jacket on the back of the door, she carefully placed her bag on the sofa and started moving through the apartment. So far so good, she allowed herself to think. 

But, of course, nothing is ever easy. When somebody cleared their throat, she jumped out of her skin, nearly falling to the floor. "Jesus, Ken," she muttered as she straightened herself up. "You scared the shit out of me."

She looked towards the kitchen, where he was sitting in the darkness. She could hardly see him, but she didn't dare move to turn the light on.

"Why are you sneaking in?" He challenged, his voice calm. And that frightened her the most. 

"I didn't want to wake you up," she answered quickly. "In case you were asleep." 

Still, he stared. His face was blank, unreadable. "So, you weren't with anybody?"

She shook her head. "I just lost track of time at the cafe." 

Suddenly he was on his feet, striding towards the window. He moved the curtain to the side slightly and looked out onto the street below. 

It was fine, she said to herself. Bob was a friend and he was probably long gone by now. 

When Ken laughed, her stomach dropped. "Is that the fucking guy from The Hard Deck? The Hangman guy?" He yelled as he turned towards her, spit flying everywhere. 

(Now, dear reader, I feel as though I owe you some context. You see, Bob was in The Hard Deck on the night that Jake flirted with her. He was absorbed in another conversation and didn't see her, not until this stranger was swinging at Jake and Bob had to step between them. Still, Bob didn't notice her, but she didn't notice him. They were too wrapped up in their own distress. So, when Ken saw Bob looking at the apartment building as he walked away, he got the two aviators mixed up.)

"What?" She stared at her boyfriend with furrowed brows. "Ken, that's not Hangman."

"But you were with him." 

She scrambled to find words, tried to work out what wouldn't get her into trouble. But she couldn’t lie to him. He'd know instantly and it would only make things so much worse. "I mean, we met at the café, but I wasn't with him." 

Ken laughed again, but this was bitter. "Somehow, I don't believe you."

When he strode over, she couldn’t stop her body from flinching away. "I never pegged you as a slut, Barbie," he said as he forcefully grabbed her cheeks. 

"Ken," she tried to say, but it didn't come out right, not with the way he was holding her. "Please."

Her cries fell on deaf ears. He moved his face close to hers, almost like he was going to kiss her, but then he pulled away. "I don't kiss sluts, Barbie," he said and let go of her face, pushing her to the floor in the process.

She sniffed, but she didn't cry. Not when she had endured worse. "I'm not cheating on you," she whispered. 

Ken picked her up. It wasn't loving. It wasn't her knight in shining armour scooping her up off of the floor and carrying her away. No, just as he had done the night before, he wrapped his fingers around her hair and pulled her to her feet. She cried out as she struggled to stand, but Ken ignored it. 

"Bedroom," he said, voice demanding as he let go of her. "Now."

She walked into their bedroom and stripped off her clothes, just as she was expected to do. When Ken came into the room he pushed her down and flipped her over, forcing her to lay on her back and face him. 

"You know I hate having to remind you of who you belong to, Barbie." The way he said her nickname, it was patronising. Like she really was just a toy for him to play with. 

As he undid his belt and freed himself from his jeans, she felt physically sick. He leaned over her, pushing in with no regard for her comfort or pleasure. 

Tears ran down her face, but she didn't sob. She couldn't look at him, and that only made him angry. "Let me see you, Barbie," he growled as his hands wrapped around her throat. 

Ken never squeezed. He never ever caused her harm like that. But today was different. Today his grip was tight as he held her neck, like he was trying to cut off her air supply. Like he wanted her dead. 

Suddenly she was gasping for air.

Desperately her hands clawed at his wrists, trying to get him to release her. "Ken!" She tried to gasp, but he sped up his thrusts. "Ken! I-" 

His grunt grew louder and he moved faster, his hips snapping until finally, he finished, climaxing inside of her. He released her neck and tucked himself back into his jeans, leaving her there, gasping for breath. 

On shaking legs, she crawled to the bathroom and reached into the cabinet for her birth control. As soon as she had swallowed it, she climbed into the shower, where she let herself cry. 

***

"Baby On Board!" Jake shouted the moment Bob walked back into Natasha's condo. "We were just about to send the police out looking for you!" He shouted with a laugh.

He hadn't thought about how much his friends would have worried about his disappearance. His hands were in his pockets as he made his way out to the back porch, where Jake and Natasha already had a beer each. 

"Sorry," he said, accepting the bottle that Natasha passed him from the box beside her. "Got caught up with something."

"And you didn't even bring back the coffees." Natasha and Jake didn't mention that, when Bob hadn't come back for an hour or answered their texts, they had turned to the coffee machine. It wasn't as good as the cafe coffee they had been promised, but it would do. 

Natasha looked at him, eyebrows raised (although it wasn't the easiest thing to see beneath the lights strung up above them). "Is it a girl?" She asked. 

Bob blushed deep crimson, and that was answer enough. "Our Baby On Board has a girlfriend?" Jake called, tipping the top of the bottle towards him. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"She's not my girlfriend,” Bob mumbled as he sat between Jake and Natasha. 

Jake and Natasha looked at each other. "But you want her to be, right?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Bob took his first sip of beer. "I don't know," he said once he had swallowed the mouthful. "I mean, I've only just met her and she's got a boyfriend."

"So?" Jake replied and Natasha glared at him. 

"Tell us everything," she said to the Weapon Systems Officer. 

So, Bob told them everything. He told them about the day before in the cafe, where he had knocked over her drink and ruined her notebook. He told them how she had run to work when he tried to apologise. He told them about the replacement notebook and how she had invited him to sit with her. And he told them that he had walked her to her apartment. 

"She sounds great," said Jake as he finished his drink and reached for another. 

"Yeah, perfect," Natasha agreed. "Apart from the boyfriend."

"We're hating him for you," Jake continued. 

Bob shook his head. "We can't just hate him. What if he's a really nice guy?" He suggested.

A scoff left Jake's lips. "He's with Baby Bob's dream girl. That's bad enough for me," he said, reaching past Bob to fist bump Natasha, who nodded in agreement.

Bob held his hands up in defence. "All I'm saying is, if she's with him, he must be great." He sipped his drink. "Besides, I think she's just looking for a friend."

"Are you okay just being that friend?" Natasha asked, her tone comforting. 

Bob nodded his head. "Yeah, I am."

After the one beer Bob said his goodbyes. He climbed into his truck and set off to his own place. Just like he had said to Nat and Jake, he was okay with just being her friend. Even if he couldn't get their interactions out of his head. Even when he pulled into his driveway he was thinking about her. Thinking about the way she laughed at him, a laugh that lit up the room. The way her eyes seemed to shine when she told a story from her childhood. The way her emotions seemed to get the better of her when she briefly mentioned her story. 

He thought about her apartment. It wasn't the nicest San Diego had to offer , definitely run down and cheap. From the little he had seen of the inside, the stairs would never pass any kind of inspection. 

"Frodo!" He called when he opened the door to his two bedroom house. 

Once Bob had completed his second stint at Top gun and had permanently relocated to San Diego, his mother had been so worried about him getting lonely. So, to ease her worries, Bob got a cat. Frodo had the life of luxury, more toys than he would ever play with and the best food Bob could get. 

He found Frodo asleep on his bed, his black hairs covering the comforter. Not that Bob minded too much; it was Frodo's home as much as it was his. 

She hadn't told him her name, Bob thought as he filled Frodo's bowl (as soon as Frodo heard the cupboard containing his food open, he went running). She hadn't told him her name as he was smitten. 

He just had to hope she was at the café again tomorrow.

Taglist: @biancathecool @not-nyasa @burningwitchprincess @darksparklesficrecs @primroseluna @littlemsbumblebee @wretchedmo

#bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd x you #bob floyd smut #bob floyd x reader smut #robert floyd #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd fluff #robert floyd smut #robert floyd x you #robert floyd x reader smut #top gun #top gun imagine #top gun bob #top gun maverick

[h-harleybaby]

Ignore this if you’ve done it but matching costumes with the boys… what do YOU think they’d wear as couple costumes with reader

~🍋

STOOOOP THAT WOULD BE ADORABLE AHHHH

I doing the main 4 + Butters because you didn’t specify them :)

Cartman

• Would absolutely suggest doing something vaguely racist, but dw y’all don’t… even if you have to physically shove Cartman into the bathroom to change. He’s probably pissed about it the whole night tbh

• Probably makes you go as a KFC chicken bucket while he’s the Colonel Sanders because he genuinely will not shut the fuck up until you agree to it. It was so stupidly embarrassing

• He would most definitely force you to go to a party so he could show everyone y’alls costumes before dragging you out to go do other things. He really just wanted to brag and embarrass you

• Cartman will absolutely make you go trick or treating with him despite y’alls ages, and y’all stay out sooooo late that people aren’t even out anymore. He refuses to end the night until he hits up everyone’s house and demands all the candy they have

• At the end of the night you guys stop by the dollar and grocery stores to buy all the cheap Halloween candy that’s on sale. Don’t worry you’ll get your cut on the candy too, it’s just a bit… smaller than his cut

Stan

• Stan doesn’t really care enough about Halloween to plan to dress up or literally anything, but if you insist he’ll probably throw something together quickly

• You guys go as Sally and Jack but his part of it is really half assed, he still looks good tho!! It’s just, a lot people couldn’t tell who he was as at first. He probably got so drunk he couldn’t even remember

• Speaking of getting drunk, he throws a costume party because you insisted on doing something for Halloween. You asked, he delivers! Everyone’s there, even people from straight up other neighboring towns. People hear alcohol and and will do whatever to get it

• An almost concerning rowdy party and it wasn’t even from the party goers! It was from Randy swinging on the Chandelier and supplying all the alcohol. Overall a really memorable night… well to most of the people who went

• Like father like son, neither Stan or Randy could remember anything from last night but regardless, they had an unspoken agreement. Never tell Sharon and never speak of it ever again, the night never happened. Well, the pictures you took definitely say otherwise

Kyle

• Sheila insists on buying y’all’s costumes and she gets y’all some peanut butter and jelly costume. Kyle absolutely hates it but he would never tell his mother, thank god he has a job so he could buy something else and just change when you guys leave

• Y’all actually end up going as Morticia and Gomez Addams even though Kyle in general looks a little too colorful to be Gomez cough cough GINGER cough cough but regardless, he tries his best to slick his hair back and hunch over more so he could be shorter than you. It doesn’t work but it’s the thought that counts right?

• Half way through the night hall switched costumes because you didn’t wanna wear heels too long and he wouldn’t have to because of how tall he is. Shelley let him use her hair straightener and you’re pretty sure you burnt off some of his hair but it’s tooooootally fine, absolutely fine (he doesn’t know)

• Kyle was honestly kind of miserable the whole night, he didn’t really WANT to be there but you begged him to do something with you and Halloween and Stan would’ve dragged him to the party regardless if you asked him to go or not

• Though I suppose you asking really did help, he might’ve just bailed when he heard there was alcohol. Despite everything… he makes a really good Morticia but that was mainly because he was tall and would do the tango with you if you asked

Kenny

• KEN AND BARBIE YOU SAY? I THINK SO!!!!!!! It’s hard to find something in his closet but he ends up trying to spray paint his parka bright pink and writing “I am Kenough” in black sharpie. Oh that poor, poor parka

• You had to physically force him not to try throwing together some haphazard dick costume that he wanted to use soooo bad. He tried to hard to convince you that you guys should go as a dick and sperm

• Thank god you guys didn’t, y’all ended up taking Karen trick or treating for a couple hours and she went dressed as a lil skeleton!!! It was the cutest thing ever, kinda stuff to make your heart melt

• After Karen got tuckered out y’all went to the party, might I add just in time to watch Randy scream and hang from the chandelier in only underwear. Honestly it was a lot funnier than it should’ve been, the man was stuck up there the rest of the night with you both passing up bottles of liquor to him

• Very memorable night for everyone involved, and somehow everyone knew what you guys were dressed as!! I suppose the bright pink and “I’m Kenough” really helped

Butters

• Would also suggest something racist but he doesn’t really know it, at least you give him better ideas so y’all don’t end up coming off weird

• Y’all would totally end up going as Joker and Harley Quinn, it’s completely overdone and cringe but y’all still go as them. Green hair and shirtless and EVERYTHING! His parents don’t like it at all and he ended up getting grounded later

• God you guys are sooooo cringe together, like y’all quote Harley Quinn and Joker stuff the whole night if y’all go to a Halloween/costume party. Multiple people will gag and throw up in their mouths. Multiple

• He’s the type to go to the party with you and almost have a heart attack because of the music, he would be paranoid that his parents would ground him for hearing such music. Somehow they did and they weren’t even there to hear it 😭

• You suggested going trick or treating but Butters was convinced he’s too old for it and his parents would def ground him for being out too late with someone as pretty as you. After a lot of convincing you got him to hit up a couple houses with you before you guys went home, the old people were very confused

#h harleybaby needs help #harley’s anons <33 #harley’s favs #south park x reader #south park x reader headcanons #south park x y/n #south park x you #eric cartman x reader #cartman x reader #cartman x y/n #cartman x you #eric cartman x y/n #Eric cartman x you #kyle brovlofski x y/n #kyle broflovski x y/n #kyle broflovski x you #kyle brovlofski x reader #kyle broflovski x reader #stan marsh x you #stan x you #stan x reader #stan marsh x reader #stan marsh x y/n #kenny x reader #kenny x you #Kenny x y/n #kenny mccormick x y/n #kenny mccormick x you #kenny mcormick x reader #kenny mccormick x reader

[respectthepetty]

Pit Babe Colors Ep. 12 The Black Parade Episode

I'm challenging myself with this show and seeing how good my color skills really are, so I'm doing my normal thing of watching it double-speed on mute, but now, the captions are off also. It's just colors and vibes here. Y'all done told be EVERYTHING, so I know the entire plot now.

THAT WAS A TEAR! KENTA IS CRYING!

I thought it wasn't just sweat last week but knowing he is actually crying as he thinks about their past did immediate damage to me, and now they are ALL standing there in the dark with Way and Pete highlighted by the blue, and, and, and . . . Kentana are you gonna die? You and Waymond are stressing me the fuck out!

Now that I know they are both enigmas, I can't see them the same. Are they using their superpowers on each other right now? Are they reading each other's minds? Are they trying to figure out how to get Kentana back, so they can make this poly?

Kentana, how many times are you going to have this man spit in your face before you realize that he ain't shit? Go to your room, turn on Billie Eilish's "Happier Than Ever" and really hear it. "Never told anyone anything bad cause that shit's embarrassing. You were my everything, and all that you did was make me fucking sad."

The blue keys in front of the red product placement is all I need to be reminded that this show refuses to allow me peace.

Shocking absolutely fucking nobody, Kentana did not listen to "Happier Than Ever"

And now someone is gonna die because there are only so many ways for you and Waymundo to redeem yourselves, and if you have Jeffrey in all black, I'm worried it's gonna be your funeral we will be planning next, Kentana.

There is one episode left and I am death gripping the one time Vegas' Hedgehog wore blue because I will never get it again. I hate them.

Real question: Is Barbie pregnant? I know he is sad Charles is "dead" *eye roll* but he is taking pills, getting fruit thrown at him, and staring out into space. I would love to believe he is going through his Edward-left-Bella-so-she-was-super-duper-sad era, but now that I know pregnancy is on the table, that's all I can see.

Oh, thank goodness! Someone actually has a tracker on his phone! But Kimberly has been kidnapped, caught up in human trafficking, and is now beating up children. Bro, what was your life before it all went to shit? Do you ever call your mom and tell her these are your friends now? Are you even still racing? Nevermind. Go catch those kids.

The problem with black is the shades. Waymond's jacket looks green. Peter's pants look blue. And yet it still feels like we are preparing for a funeral. A real one this time. Not fake like someone else's *cough* Charles *cough*

Kentana, are you betraying Jeffrey as Big Red watches? Or are you asking him how Peter's been? Has he been well, without you? Is he dating anyone? What is his status with Way? Well, Jeffrey wouldn't know, but Peter x Waymond could be poly if you get out of that fucking house and stop kidnapping people!

Going from Kentana in that House of Horrors to Pete looking like this makes me understand why Kentana is out there kidnapping people. I'd feel some type of way too if my childhood crush looked like this and was getting chummy with a dude who looked like Way Way. Damn.

What the hell is this?! The cover of a boy band album? A meeting to discuss poly? The Thai version of Barbie where Ken(tana) explains why he won't leave the Mojo Dojo Casa House? AND WHY ARE ALL OF YOU WEARING BLACK?! Someone is gonna die.

Did Big Red know Kentana went to see Barbie and the other Kens?! Was he sent there by Big Red?! Kentana is really breaking my heart on his knees hugging this man like this. I want to slap Kentana all the time, but I also want to hug him and tuck him into bed with a moon nightlight calmly lighting up the room.

Let's stick him in a video game, so he can learn to love himself.

Push him down the stairs, Kentana! Do it. PLEASE! Shoulder check his ass at least.

Oh Lord, NO! Waymond, do not take a fucking bullet for anyone. You canNOT die by Whiny Winifred's bullet. I refuse to let you go out like that. You finally used your powers for good, but this is not the time to die.

Y'ALL DIDN'T EVEN GRAB THE BAG!

This is Mission Kim Possible all over again! How do you not grab the damn bag?! Waymundo looks so damn good in his suit, so thank God he is still alive, but what the fuck guys?! One job! SECURE. THE. BAG.

I hate how good everyone looks in black because I keep swinging through emotions. I'm terrified for everyone yet very attracted to everyone. All the guys connected to Big Red have been in black this episode regardless if it was their color or not, so I'm hoping that means the funeral will be Big Red's.

A cult meeting, in this economy? Villains make the dumbest decisions.

Waymond has some white on . . . over black. Please Mary, mother of God, do not let him do something stupid.

Alan, did you just say "eff them kids"? No. Not my Alan. He'll be back for them. Right. Right?

Peter is gonna Regina George his way into this Halloween party that he was not invited to just to cause some havoc. Mad respect.

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?!

How the hell did Charles get there?! Did Barbie's dad tell him to go to the cult meeting? Dressed like that though? Did his spidey sense go off? So many questions, but all I know is Kentana better let them go, so he doesn't have to die.

Whiny Winifred better not get better at aiming in the final episode because I still need both of these two to wear blue TOGETHER.

WAYMOND, NO!!!!!!!!!!

Good to know it only took being kidnapped twice and (possibly) someone dying for Jeffrey to finally commit to the blue.

My nerves are wrecked. There was too much black this episode. Someone is going to die, and as much as I want it to be Big Red, I just don't feel good that Kentana is still on his bullshit, and Waymond keeps jumping in front of guns. Peter needs both of his boyfriends to live.

Also, Barbara, I already know you are immediately going to hug Charles next week, instead of having a moment to be pissed all the way off at him like you should be, so I'm going to start meditating on that right now. I've been mad at Charles the entire season, so I'll hold this grudge for both of us in the finale.

#pit babe #pit babe the series #the colors mean things #and they will guide me the whole way through #color coded boys in love #episode 12 #I'm gonna be stressed all week #way is gonna do it #he is gonna break my heart to redeem to himself #love yourself Kenta #love yourself more than you worship Big Red #and don't sacrifice yourself either!

[leclerc-s]

what happens in vegas never stays in vegas

series masterlist

liked by daphnejonesricciardo, dulceperez, charles_leclerc and others

maejonesverstappen i present to you mr & mrs jones-verstappen. to the moon and to saturn my love

user has restricted comments

arthur_leclerc hardest secret to ever keep and i know about the re-records before they're set to come out.

isabellaperez AND THAT’S HOW YOU DO A PROPER VEGAS WEDDING PEOPLE!

↳ rowan_todd is this you shading me?

↳ isabellaperez if the shoe fits 🤷🏻‍♀️

danieljonesricciardo you're literally obsessed with that picture of him

↳ maejonesverstappen just look at him, he looks so bbg

maxjonesverstappen hey, that's my wife.

↳ maejonesverstappen hehe say it again. giggling and kicking my feet right now.

↳ daphnejonesricciardo i can confirm that.

redbullracing wedding of the year!

↳ maejonesverstappen admin, you're too kind.

christianhorner i beg, take care of him

↳ maejonesverstappen don't worry, you're golden boy is safe with me

↳ christanhorner oh i know.

schecoperez felicitaciones! les deseo mucha felicidad!

↳ maejonesverstappen GRACIAS CHEQUITO!

↳ maxjonesverstappen thank you checo.

joshuatbassett congrats you two, sorry i couldn't make it!

↳ maejonesverstappen thanks for talking some sense into me back in 2021 and helping me get the boy

↳ danieljonesricciardo EXCUSE ME? I HELPED TOO!

liked by danieljonesricciardo, schecoperez, isabellaperez and others

maxjonesverstappen1 i guess vegas isn't half bad with you by my side. to the moon and to saturn forever mijn engel

user has restricted comments

daphnejonesricciardo guess i can officially say, welcome to the family max. although you've been apart of it since my little sister fell in love with you

↳ maxjonesverstappen1 thanks for letting me steal her away from you

↳ daphnejonesricciardo i know you'll take care of her 💙

danieljonesricciardo HEY! WE'RE BROTHERS NOW!

↳ maxjonesverstappen1 oh no. i'm stuck with you forever.

↳ danieljonesricciardo you fucking love me maxie!

maejverstappen hehe you're my husband

↳ maxjonesverstappen1 and you're my wife

mamajones take care of my baby max.

↳ maxjonesverstappen1 always mama.

natalia_ruiz i love you guys, when is it my turn?

↳ isabellaperez charles_leclerc you heard your girlfriend, get on a fucking knee already

↳ charles_leclerc i'm trying??

zoyatorres beautiful wedding for two beautiful people

↳ maejonesverstappen thanks for being there z!

landonorris that should be me

↳ maxjonesverstappen1 don't you have a girlfriend??

↳ baileywinters not anymore i guess

max jones-verstappen and mae jones-verstappen answer fan questions

comments

username this is the first time i've ever seen max smile so much in a video, and he's always smiling in videos with other drivers. i think it’s because he’s in love.

username they look so sick in love, it's adorable.

username these are the people i least expected to ever get married.

username i never thought i would live to see the day a pop star married an f1 racer. just when i thought i had seen it all.

↳ username they aren't the first ones. mae's older sister, daphne jones-ricciardo is married to daniel jones-ricciardo.

↳ username WHAT? WHY DID I NEVER HEAR ABOUT THIS??

↳ username it was all over the internet?? how did you miss that? this happened back in march?? before the eras tour

↳ username WHAT THE FUCK? HOW THE HELL DID I MISS THAT??

username I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS! TURN IT UP!!

username this is literally barbie and ken. she’s everything and he’s just ken.

↳ username THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING!!

username THINGS I WISH YOU SAID IS ABOUT SILVERSTONE?? I WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO LISTEN TO THE SONG THE SAME

username the genuine shock on max's face at the mention that mae wrote a song after silverstone for him.

↳ username the song implies that she didn't watch the race that day, meaning she found out through victoria, max's sister.

↳ username this is my final straw. me. toaster. bath. now.

username they're so cute, i wish them all the happiness and love in the world.

username mrs. jones-verstappen we all knew opposite was about max, it's not a coincidence that it came out during a time when max was rumoured to be dating kelly piquet.

↳ username can you imagine being so hurt by the thought of your ex being with someone new that you write the most heartbreaking song known to man?

↳ username woah, i wouldn’t go that far. daphne’s written some pretty heart breaking songs too. opposite is definitely up there though.

username THAT SMITTEN LOOK IS FUCKING EVERYTHING!

username MAX WON THE GP BUT HE ALSO WON AT LIFE!!

taglist: @burningcupcakefire @arkhammaid @sunflower-golden-vol6 @applopie @lorarri @mypage-myfandoms @bb-swift @thewannabewriter @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @stopeatread @hobiismyhopeu @lilsiz @alessioayla @niniluvsainz @au-ghosttype @cowboylikemets1989 @justtprachisblog @rmeddar123 @nichmeddar @landonorizzz @unluckyyoshi

strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

¡leclerc-s speaks! i fully came into this not expecting it to go this way but it was too funny to not pass up so i went with it. hope y'all enjoyed this little two-parter. NOW RACE THOUGHTS: y'all i was going counting on the vegas gp being a shit-show and the media aspect of it kind of was, it was lowkey giving hunger games. the limo debrief was lowkey so fucking funny to watch and i want that every gp or every other gp. also, give it up to ferrari for not majorly fucking up, ALTHOUGH WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT 3.9 SECOND PITSTOP?? that is the only fuck up they had. AND THAT CHARLES OVERTAKE ON CHECO?? OH MY GOD!! but overall the race was interesting to watch, including that momentary french civil war thing alpine had happening. what did you guys think of the race?

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #the honest series #max verstappen #max verstappen x female oc #formula 1 #formula 1 fic #fanfic #fanfiction #f1 #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 fic

[octuscle]

Cursed Ken, part 1: Kemal, the janitor

There was a lot at stake for Patrick. Actually, it was about everything. He had invested an incredible amount of time and money in preparing for this appointment. He had to be successful. And he would be successful. His idea was brilliant. His preparation was excellent. He took a deep breath. The projector projected the image of a young athletic man onto the wall. The young man was obviously a janitor or something. The young man was made of plastic. And a small army of young athletic men made of plastic, one of whom was currently having an image projected onto the wall, stood on the table in front of Patrick.

"Gentlemen, the Barbie movie gives your product a tailwind that will open up completely new markets. Barbie and Ken have become socially acceptable. And I'm convinced that this offers unimagined opportunities for marketing Ken in particular"

It seems to be going well. The Head of Product Management reached for the janitor. And turned it in his hand.

"Whereas in the past, gay men never dared to buy a Ken doll without lying about it being for their little niece, today hundreds of thousands of customers with purchasing power can imagine having a Ken doll on the shelf in their bedroom. But these customers also need Kens that serve stereotypes other than the Malibu boy."

A young man, who looked a bit like Malibu Ken himself, smiled as he reached for the doll, which was dressed like a British redneck. Only in pink. It went really well!

"As well as new Kens, which cover current popular gay fetishes, we should also take into account the fact that Barbie is now a manager or a lawyer. So Ken should also be allowed to be a janitor or a garbage man. Especially as this also appeals to potential customers' fetishes."

A member of the controlling department took the figure of the soccer player in his hand. Patrick seized the opportunity immediately. He switched to the foil with the Germanic-looking Ken, who was wearing a sleeveless T-shirt and had tattoos on one arm and one leg.

"With the European Football Championship in Germany this year, we have a major event that we can also exploit without paying license fees. We can place footballers, soccer fans and, as the epitome of masculinity, soccer hooligans. Everything that has to do with soccer this year…".

The head of product management cleared his throat. "May I interrupt for a moment?" he asked. Patrick nodded at him with a winning smile. "If you want my opinion, pack up your gay shit right now and leave the building. I didn't want this movie and I hate it. And the reason is that I feared excesses like this. I don't want a Ken who dresses like a faggot or a right-wing hooligan. For fuck's sake, does the prototype bodybuilder actually have steroid acne on his shoulders? Nobody wants to see that. And I certainly don't want to see it. Thank you for your efforts. But please leave. Go quickly and go far!"

Patrick stood open-mouthed in front of the screen with his presentation for a few seconds. Then he packed up without a word. He stuffed his artistically created dolls into a bag, put the computer in his laptop bag and left the room. He was on the verge of tears. He stuffed the bag with the dolls into the nearest garbage can. And then he left the building. Let Ken and Barbie choke you to death. Let them die of their fantasies. Anyone who even looked at Ken should become his fucking brainless image. How could he have thought he could make his fortune with these fucking figures? Never again!

There was an awkward silence in the meeting room. Not everyone present shared their boss's opinion. But no one dared to disagree. The two lucky ones who had a figurine in their hands discreetly slipped it into their jacket pocket. The head of product management took the janitor's Ken, stood up and said that he wanted to discuss this perversity with the legal department tomorrow.

It was mid-June. It didn't get dark until very late. Maybe that's why he hadn't even noticed how late it was. It was definitely time to call it a day. Where had that damn doll gone? He had it here on his desk… It was just too late, he was tired. But before he left, he had to go to the toilet. Damn it, he had to add toilet paper. And empty the garbage can. The snobs who were allowed to use the boardroom toilet often behaved like the ultimate barbarians. But it felt good to piss here. He would never get the privilege of doing it officially. But at this time of day? Who was going to forbid him?

The cleaning crew wouldn't be here for a few hours. He wiped over the urinals and washbasins with a few used paper towels. It was time to call it a day. But on the way out he could empty a few of the garbage cans along the way. Normally, he didn't pay attention to the contents of the garbage cans. Mostly boring papers. He assumed that the important stuff went into the shredding containers. There was something in one of the garbage cans on the conference floor that didn't belong there. Dolls. Various dolls that looked like Ken. In cool clothes. He'd never seen them like that before. Who threw something like that away? He packed it up once. It couldn't do any harm. Maybe he could sell the dolls…

Yes, he didn't have much to do with the blond Ken who stuck his mop in a pink cleaning bucket. But Kemal had even less to do with the powerful head of product management. He didn't want to deal with that kind of shit. He was here to service the air conditioning, replace light bulbs and sometimes fix faults in the elevator. It was a shitty job. But someone had to do it.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #inked man #race change #age reduction #ai image #barbie tf #ken tf #kenergy

[nyoomfruits]

ROMANCE AUS #7

Sorry for shouting. Please and thank you.

7. made out while in costume at a halloween party (lando's outfit for reference)

“This is ridiculous,” Lando hisses, uncomfortably pulling at the pink ruffly collar around his neck as he makes his way into the kitchen. It’s already fairly packed, mostly because Lando had tried to stall actually arriving at this party for as long as possible. “I look like a fucking idiot.”

“I think you look….” Alex appraises him, looking at Lando’s ‘sexy Princess Peach’ costume with a shit eating grin. “Well. Like a princess.” Lando glares at him and makes his way over to where the booze is set up, pouring himself a hefty shot of tequila and knocking it back immediately with a wince.  

“Really putting the peach in Princess Peach with those hotpants,” George agrees, entering the kitchen and patting Lando on the shoulder as he passes him on the way to the fridge. He’s dressed as some kind of Greek god, and Lando’s 99% sure he only picked it because it was an excuse not to wear a shirt.

“I hate both of you and I’m unfriending you on Facebook the second, I get home,” Lando grumbles, adjusting the stupid tiara on his head and pouring another shot of tequila.

Alex laughs. “A bet’s a bet, mate. And you lost.”

“Yeah, my fucking dignity,” Lando says, pulling at the back of the hot pants in the hopes it will at least cover some of his ass. He’s never making another bet with George and Alex again. “Anyway, at least I am wearing something original instead of, what,” he gestures at Alex’s outfit. “A cowboy?”

“Ken!” Alex says, completely unbothered, doing a little spin.

Lando snorts, rolls his eyes. “Right. And who’s your Barbie, then?”

Charles chooses that exact moment to swan into the kitchen in a bright pink cowboy suit complete with sparkly cowboy hat and white cowboy boots. “Lads! Are you ready to get wasted?!”

“Of course,” Lando says. “Why did I even ask?” And knocks back another shot of tequila.

--

It gets better, after a while. He’s starting to get considerably more drunk which makes him feel considerably more comfortable about looking like a very scarcely clad Princess Peach, and he’s starting to have actual fun.

So of course, that’s the exact moment George decides to ruin everything again. “Lads,” he says. “I have fantastic news. I have spotted… A Mario.”

Alex and Charles holler like George had just told them they’d won a million bucks each. Lando frowns. “So?” He asks, regretting it immediately when he’s suddenly faced with three absolutely shit eating grins. “Oh, fuck no,” he says, suddenly realizing what they’re hinting at. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on, Lando, you have to,” Charles says, putting on his big stupid pleading puppy dog eyes. Lando hates him. “It’s Mario,” he adds, like that somehow explains everything.

“Yeah, what is Mario without his Peach,” Alex agrees, not even trying to hide the smirk on his face.

“I am not making out with some random dude dressed up as Mario just because you guys seem to think that people in matching costumes need to make out!” Lando exclaims. “Actually, by that logic, why aren’t you two making out,” Lando says, gesturing between Charles and Alex.

Alex shrugs. “We already did.”

“When you were trying to create, what was it? ‘The world’s funkiest cocktail’ in the kitchen,” Charles adds.

“I can attest. I watched them do it, it was hot,” George says, and takes an obnoxious sip of ‘the world’s funkiest cocktail’ through his straw. “This is very funky by the way.”

“Thank you,” Lando says primly. “Still not making out with Mario.”

Alex gets a very dangerous mischievous gleam in his eyes. “I dare you,” he says, and George and Charles simultaneously let out a gasp that would’ve been very funny if Alex hadn’t just doomed Lando’s entire night.

“Oh fuck you,” he says, glaring, before knocking back the last of his own glass of ‘the world’s funkiest cocktail’ and slamming his cup down onto the bar. “All right, where is that fucker.”

“That’s no way to talk about your future husband.”

“Can it, George.”

Alex snorts. “He’s on the couch in the living room.”

“All right,” Lando says, shaking out his limbs like he’s going to run a fucking Marathon instead of make out with a guy that might not even want to make out with him. “Here goes nothing,” he says, before making his way back into the living room.

It’s pretty packed, but he finds the couch easily, ducking behind two girls dressed like Wednesday and Enid before coming to a standstill in front of the guy dressed as Mario. He even has one of those stupid stick on moustaches, though he’s ditched the gloves, the pair lying abandoned on the arm rest next to him.

Other than that he’s. Kind of cute. In a sort of boyish way. He has something weirdly familiar, though Lando can’t quite place it. “Hi,” he says, trying to stand in a way that accentuates his. Something. It must work regardless because the guy’s eyes snap to Lando and then widen ever so slightly, the light flush he had on his cheeks – probably from the heat – darkening considerably.

“Lando,” he blurts out, and Lando falters a little because huh. So he does know this guy. That’s a little. It’s probably not a great start to trying to woo him, not remembering who he is. The guy must notice Lando’s confusion because he adds. “Oscar? You’re in my econ 101 lecture.” His eyes dart away and then back again, lingering for a moment on Lando’s thighs, that are very prominently on display.

“Right!” Lando says, though he doesn’t specifically remember Oscar. “Monday 8am. My favorite class.”

Oscar laughs, a loud, sharp thing that sort of seems to startle out of him, folding his body ever so slightly forward as he does so. “Yeah, that one,” he says, and he seems a little tense now, his shoulder dropping ever so slightly.

“Where’s Luigi?” Lando asks, changing the topic before he has to reveal he still doesn’t technically remember Oscar, nudging Oscar’s cap with his hand, watching Oscar’s eyes widen when Lando leans in a little closer.

“Oh, uh. Fucked off,” Oscar says, blushing slightly. “He uh. There was this girl, so.”

“Ah,” Lando says, nodding. “Daisy.”

Oscar’s brows knit together in a decidedly cute way. “Daisy?”

“Yeah,” Lando says. “You know. Daisy, Luigi.” He gestures between them then, “Mario. Peach.”

“Right,” Oscar says, blushing impossibly more. “Right, yeah. Mario and Peach.”

“Exactly!” Lando says, and then, because he’s getting signals, and because Oscar has been trying very had not to stare at Lando’s. Everything. For the past five minutes, he sits down. In Oscar’s lap. “Peach and Mario,” he says, as Oscar flails a little and seems to have some kind of internal panic about where to put his hands.

Lando solves it by grabbing them and putting them on the flimsy little waist of his body suit. Oscar lets out a slow shuddering breath as he glances up at Lando with wide eyes, but leaves his hands on Lando’s waist, as Lando readjust himself, puts a knee on either side of Oscar’s thighs. “As I was saying,” he says. “Mario and Peach.” And then he takes Oscar’s face in his hands, takes off the stupid moustache, and kisses him full on the mouth.

Oscar makes a tiny little noise in surprise, fumbling a little as their teeth clack together, but then suddenly something in him seems to snap, and he kisses back. His hands are suddenly everywhere, from Lando’s waist to his back to his ass, squeezing down in a way that makes Lando moan into his mouth, an opportunity which Oscar uses to slide his tongue into Lando’s mouth, kissing him like a man starved.

Lando lets his hands slide from the sides of Oscar’s face into his hair, knocking the Mario hat off and tugging ever so slightly, eliciting a delicious little moaning noise from Oscar that he swallows eagerly. It goes on like that for a bit, each of them giving as good as they get, when Lando finally pulls away, breathing a little heavily.

Oscar looks equally debauched, breathing heavily, eyes wide and hair messy. He looks… He looks fucking hot, and Lando vows to pay more attention in econ 101, next time.

“Mamma Mia,” Oscar breathes out, in a terrible Itatlian accent, and there’s a little twitch to the corner of his mouth, even though his words are incredibly deadpan, and it startles a laugh out of Lando. Hot and funny. Yeah, Lando’s definitely going to start paying more attention.

But for now, he presses his lips back to Oscar’s, and sends a small little thank you to that bet he lost. Maybe he should start losing them more often, if it gets him this.

#landoscar #mctwinks #twinklaren #the vibe is oscar DEFINITELY has a crush on lando and spends most of his econ 101 class pining over him #imagine seeing the guy you like in THAT outfit i too would die #drabble #ask game

[thebardisabird]

this is the first request ive ever made, but how would the boys react to a classic Bimbo reader? with classic blonde hair, pink clothes, expensive bags and nails, stuff like that😭 this may be a bit strange so dont answer if you dont wanna, i was just curious. thank you so much lmao 😭

We know her, we love her, she’s that girl!

So Osomatsu immediately goes gaga for you. I’m talking heart eyes, drooling, unable to think coherent thoughts kind of enamored. From your pretty long eyelashes, to your super short mini skirt to pink boot heels - he can’t seems to pick a spot where he wants to look! Every single inch of you sings sex appeal and he’s listening very intently. He knows he definitely cannot afford you tho - so he might pull off the same stunt he did for Chibimi and just about sell his soul to get a date with you. (Honestly when I think of all the characteristics you describe matched with Oso I think of @girlymatsu ‘s oc Erina-chan who is super cute and fun, please check them out, you can tell they put a lot of love in their art and you'll absolutely love their oc)

Karamatsu sees your fashion sense and instantly wants to be the Ken to your Barbie. You have this it girl factor that draws him in and with the sway of your hips and the wink of your pink, glittery shadowed eye, he’s completely under your spell. If you so choose to give him the time of day, he pays you compliment after compliment, and will take you out on a date to get coffee or a nice meal depending on what you’d like. If we’re talking about a classic bimbo trope where you’re a little on the less well-read side, then he might find it cute that you don’t really know how to pronounce some of the words of the meals or coffee drinks and he’ll try to use the opportunity to teach you some fancy words. You actually find his poses and flowery speech kinda funny, because he sounds like a poem out loud.

Choromatsu has no idea how you're even talking to him right now. He's seen you plenty of times and never ever imagined you would even say two words to him other than like... "Excuse me" if he was standing in your way. You are so far removed from all the things that encompass his life. Yet when you tell him that his favorite has super cute outfits and that you were thinking about becoming one yourself because you love the idea of all the glitz and glamour it brings, he short-circuits. You're already so gorgeous, to think of you being in cutesy outfits and dancing around? And he's allowed to talk to you? Associate with you??? The man is ready to die happy. But not as happy as when you dress up in his favorite idol's outfit - only it looks ten times better on you because your bigger chest and ass. While you don't exactly understand his love for anime, manga, and other more nerdy things, you humor him because he's just so cute when his little froggy face lights up the way it does!

Ichimatsu is intimidated entirely by you and will actively go out of his way to avoid you. You are like a beacon of light far too bright and undeserving for him to ever even get close to. Luckily for him, you notice one day that he's looking into the window of a cat cafe and you finally tap him on his shoulder and ask about whether he likes cats or not. It takes about everything he has not to throw up on the spot, but he is seriously questioning his life and whether or not some god above is about to smite him. You try to explain to him that you actually really love kitties as you point to your kitten paw choker and show him your baby pink matching kitten paw nails. At some point he realizes that you're not fucking with him and he slides out of fight or flight mode and into general nervousness. It takes a while before you can actually get him to speak (you're literally such a bombshell against his disheveled-ness, he feels very grateful that he's conscious enough to give you short answers instead of fainting like his body wants him to), but you eventually give him your number. When you part ways, then he slumps to the ground, but with the tiniest of smiles on his face.

Jyushimatsu actually makes you nervous. It's very clear that you're super attractive and bubbly, but there is a genuine sweetness to him that makes him stick out from all the other meatheads who try to normally get your attention. The yellow clad matsu isn't very subtle about staring at you and your appearance, but you honestly don't mind it when he says things like "Your hair reminds me of the sun!" or "You look like a pretty pink cloud today, haha!" The guy is just so adorable it makes you giggle. And when he smiles right back (even bigger than his usual grin), it makes you blush a bit. You end up leaving lipgloss on his cheeks all the time because you just find him so cute.

Todomatsu can't get enough of you once he gets to know you! You two feed off of each other's cutesy personalities. And since pink is both of your signature colors, you guys end up matching outfits a lot. Though the price to pay with you two being so matchy-matchy is that everyone else literally cannot stand being around you two lol. But that's fine to either of you because you both just chalk it up to them being rude and jealous and you pay it no mind...it's either that dynamic orrrrr you end up hating each others guts because only one of you can be the cutest in Akatsuka. Though that scenario ends up in an enemies to lovers situation because even though Todomatsu says he can't stand you - he definitely admits to himself (and only to himself at first) that you are positively gorgeous and the only person worthy of being at his level of pretty in pink.

#ososan #osomatsu san #allmatsu #osomatsu #osomatsu matsuno #osomatsu x reader #karamatsu matsuno #karamatsu #karamatsu x reader #choromatsu #choromatsu matsuno #choromatsu x reader #ichimatsu #ichimatsu matsuno #ichimatsu x reader #jyushimatsu #jyushimatsu matsuno #jyushimatsu x reader #todomatsu #todomatsu matsuno #todomatsu x reader #x reader #bimbo!reader #ososan headcanons #osomatsu san headcanons #ososan fanfiction #osomatsu san fanfiction

[helplesslyblue77]

Snow White Lily

first story in the ‘fairy tales with a twist’ series i’ve started(because i like creating more work for myself...) 

Pairing: Step Dad!Bang Chan x Reader

Word Count: 12.6k(it got out of hand...)

Warnings: Smut, like not in full but its still there. bad parental figures, slight mommy issues, reader has some self esteem issues, also...this story has so much crying, like seriosly. 

Summary: “Years ago, your father had died and your mother had remarried. You never liked your step father, simply because he was not your real father, and you made no secret of your dislike. Many years later, your mother died and your step father became the temporary reigning monarch. You vowed the feelings you were feeling were anger, but when you fall prey to a mysterious curse you realize maybe those feelings weren't hatred after all…”

Notes: soooooo...sorry this took so long. i was originally planing to post it on the 22nd but my computer died and like a fucking moron i forgot the charger...so yeah, so sorry about that. also Reader is more than legal. i ignored the traditional marriage laws of ‘yee olden days’ in favor of not being icky. her and Chan have a age gap of about seven or eight years or so.(side note but saw the barbie movie and fucking loved it, ‘im just ken’ has been stuck in my head for days now...)

♔♕♔

Let me tell you a story dear reader. A story of love, of loss, and all that is forbidden. Let me tell you of a beautiful princess who befell a dreadful curse. Let me tell you the story of Snow White. Now you may be thinking to yourself, dear reader, “But that is ever so common. How dreadfully boring.” I beg you not to jump to such conclusions, for everything you think you know about this lovely tale is, in fact false, and the real story will only be revealed today. So I urge you to sit back and listen to my voice as I weave you a fantastical story. 

Once upon a time in a kingdom far far away lived a young woman of only sixteen. She was as beautiful, as she was kind, a true princess in her own right. Her loving father, the benevolent king of the land, doted on her. Her mother, a woman of extraordinary beauty but unpleasant disposition, could not touch her as long as the king treasured her. And thus the princess was raised with love from her father and cold indifference from her mother. Each day she became more beautiful. 

Her hair grew long and luscious, her eyes bright with knowledge, and her body grew curves as she matured. As she grew, her thirst for knowledge also grew. Much to the queen's disapproval the king allowed her to take up such thoroughly un-princess-like activities as horseback riding. The queen disproved, but to her satisfaction, the princess also enjoyed activities like embroidery and fashion, so the queen let her wild activities continue. But alas, as our princess turned upon her seventeenth year, her father the king fell deathly ill. Our heroine could only stand by and weep as her beloved father took his last breaths, as the spirits accepted him gracefully into the world of the dead.

Ragged sobs tore through your throat. Your father's hand lay on your own, still warm even though life had drained from his body only moments before. The soft silk of the king's grand bed accepted your tears wholeheartedly, soothing your wet cheeks and stinging eyes. The bed held so many memories for you. Memories of you curled up against your father's warm body as he told you story after story, all in an effort to lure you into a deep and peaceful sleep. Memories of crying in his arms as he stroked your hair and comforted you with sweet reassurances. The realization sank in that he would never embrace or gaze upon you again. 

It took a long time for your tears to stop. The palace staff let you stay at the bed, even as your father's cold dead body was removed from the silken sheets, and life in the palace resumed. Only when the golden hour sunlight poured through the stained glass windows, painting the red silk sheets and the golden bed frame dazzling colors, did you lift your tearstained face from the bed and drag yourself to your feet. You stumbled out of the king's chambers, your bare feet making barely a sound as you walked listlessly down the large corridor with the heavy stares of your ancestors weighing on your back. Your hair hung unstyled around your shoulders, your cheeks were smeared with tears and your eyes red and puffy. You were clothed only in a thin nightgown and normally you would have been scandalized. It was highly improper for a princess to wander about in her underclothes, but you were so wrought with grief you could not even bring yourself to feel shame. 

Your maids were waiting for you as you dragged open the heavy doors to your chambers. You felt their pitying stares on you but for once they didn't say a word about your disheveled state, only drawing you a bath and slipping away as silent as ghosts.

With heavy hands, you rid yourself of your only garment and slipped into the water. The pink rose petals danced across the ripples your body made as you submerged yourself completely. You closed your eyes and felt the heavy hand of despair settle over you. Tear after silent tear slipped down your cheeks, dripping into the water below. Maybe, if you continued to cry like this the gods would take pity on your sorry state and let you simply slip away, let go of this painful life and join your father in the afterlife. Such thoughts were unbecoming of a princess, but you had never been a perfect princess anyway. Too unattractive, too outspoken, nothing like your composed mother, the epitome of a perfect queen. As beautiful as a statue carved in ice and as cold as one as well. 

You knew these thoughts, these ugly self-deprecating thoughts, were not true. But with your father's passing all your insecurities were rearing their ugly heads quite akin to a many-headed monster, dead set on devouring you and only you. You closed your eyes and ever so slowly let yourself sink down until your chin was barely brushing the water. You let the comfort of the water envelope you like the warmth your father had given you, the warmth your mother would never give you. And with one last tear, you rose from the bath, water cascading off your body, and came to a grim realization.

From this day on, you were on your own. And even as the room filled with people, your maids dressing you carefully, even as the mellow chatter filled the room, you had never felt quite so alone. 

The next day your maids prepared you for the funeral. As they slipped the black dress over your head, pulled your hair into a modest bun and painted your face just enough to be suitable for such an occasion you desperately held back your tears. It was no such time for your sadness, you are a princess and to reassure your people you must look only appropriately distraught. There would be no breakdowns, no hysterical crying and screaming, none of the sort. As the maids slipped your black veil over your head and handed you the black lace fan, you take a deep breath, and shove your feelings into a deep well, one covered in moss and ivy, simply for another day. 

A sea of black greets you as you exit the castle, the air filled with the cries of thousands. The day is gray as if even mother nature is distraught. Gaunt faces torn with sadness, the silent tears of men and women, the loud cries of children who are too young to understand but sense the forlorn atmosphere and respond. You take your place on the open carriage, your father's casket laying only a few feet away from you. The casket is grand, black with gold embellishments, but you can't bring yourself to look at it. It makes it all too real. Your mother steps into the carriage, her beautiful face pulled into its usual frozen expression. Her cold gaze drags over you, and you ignore her as she tuts disapprovingly but says no more. Even she can hold her tongue when she needs to. 

The carriage starts its long trek to the royal cemetery, and you feel every rock as it bumps slowly across the road. You watch faces flash by, each hollow with a sadness you feel in your core. The ride to the cemetery is excruciating, as the sky starts to rain, big droplets that splash against the casket, and down your face. You're thankful, as it masks your tears.

The ceremony is grim, and mostly a blur. You watch as a little girl comes forward, and with small hands gently places a single white lily on the casket. More children follow, and soon the dark top of the casket was blanketed in white. Your tears are falling more frequently now, your hat and veil long gone. But these tears, instead of being pure despair, are also interspersed with gratitude. Gratitude for your kind maids, who treated you with such gentle warmth, gratitude for the looks of kindness and understanding you received from your subjects. As you finally leave the cemetery you turn back, laying eyes one final time on the grim black coffin covered in pure white lilies. Your father's favorite flowers were lilies. 

The following weeks are a blur. The world seems to continue even as you morn, and you do your best to continue along with it. Your deep loneliness is pushed to the back of your mind and you soon begin to forget it. Months pass, and soon, your eighteenth birthday approaches. You find yourself engaged to a truly dreadful man, but per your mother's request, you are unable to do a thing about it. And then one day, your life changes forever. 

The royal dining room is large, with high arching ceilings letting a draft permeate through the space. A huge crystal chandelier hangs in the center of the room, filling the large space with shadowy candlelight. Of all of the many rooms in the palace, this one has become one of your least favorites.

The large marble table is laden with food, untouched at the moment and the servants bustle around, serving wine and tidying various lighting fixtures around the room. Your mother, the star of the show, is late. You bristle, as she can't even show courtesy as the host of this sham of a party. Your mother has never been your favorite person, and as long as you have known her, those cold eyes, so dead of feeling, have always scared you.

The large doors slammed open and in waltzed your mother, her head held high. Your eyes narrow as you take in the full picture, the man escorting her to her place. He looks young, maybe eight or nine years your senior, and very handsome. With dark black hair and broad shoulders, he supported your mother as she walked across the room, pulling out the chair for her like a gentleman. Twinkling brown eyes and a sweet smile. Just your mother's type. Anger sang in your veins. How dare she bring in a cheap boy toy so soon after your father's passing. The man tried to send you a smile, but you turned, ignoring him. Your mother’s cold voice echoed in the grand hall.

“Darling, please welcome your new father.”

She didn't ask for your opinion, she simply barged ahead as she always did, as if you didn't matter. It angered you beyond belief, but it also made you feel so insignificant like you were nothing and if you simply went to sleep and never woke up, the world would continue around you, not even stopping to mourn. The room was dead silent as it awaited your response, eyes bearing down upon you. Your mother's cold expectant ones, the knowing eyes of the servants, the eyes of this new man. Emotions roiled in your gut and you stood suddenly, rattling the crockery on the table. You could tell your face was a mess, and you felt the tears start to slip down your cheeks as you ran from the room. 

You heard voices fade away as you slammed the door behind you. The worried voice of the young man and your mother's cold reply. 

“Is she feeling quite well? Was it something I did?”

“Don't mind her foolishness, she is simply a child.”

You fled down the hall, your skirts a whirl around your legs as you ran from the suffocating room. You were not a child, and most definitely not foolish, you seethed to yourself as you yanked open the doors to your chambers. 

But as you entered your room, all the explosive anger drained out of you, leaving only cold acceptance and resentment. It was childish, you mused as your stomach growled in hunger. You crashed face-first on your bed, your hair falling from its updo and pooling messily around your shoulders. 

Your mind was a mess, greatly resembling a dark and stormy ocean, a rocky shore tossed by tumultuous waves. Emotions raced through you, too fast to truly catalog. Angry thoughts of your mother's disrespect for your father's name. How could she bring this young handsome boy toy to the castle, so soon after your father's death? And to introduce him as your father? You vowed to never accept this man, to snub him at every turn and refuse to acknowledge him as your father.

(Somewhere, deep in your subconscious, you felt the vile monster of jealousy rear its head and stomp its many feet threateningly. You were jealous, jealous of your mother's goddess-like beauty, jealous of her power, and most of all, you wished the unnamed man could have been yours instead.)

♔♕♔

On that fateful day, the day your mother got remarried, you were notably absent. Your maids had searched and searched your usual hiding spots, but you were nowhere to be found. You were, in fact, in a very unprincesslike position, thrown over two bales of hay, your body bared to the heavy air of the stable. You lost your innocence to the handsome stable boy as wedding bells filled the air. And as you felt ecstasy, gripping the stable boy's broad shoulders, you couldn't really say you were sorry. At the moment at least. The lasting consequences were a bit of an inconvenience. The absence of such a notable figure, the daughter of the bride at that, sent scandalized whispers spreading around the castle. 

“The Princess did not show her face at her mother's wedding.”

“She must not accept this new man.”

The rumors didn't bother you but what did bother you was your mother's response or rather lack thereof. There was only a slight tick in her perfectly arched eyebrows as she looked down at you, picking at her long scarlet nails. You met her gaze head-on, never one to show fear to a predator. She looked over at you, taking note of your disheveled appearance, the bits of hay tangled in your long hair, the red marks scattered across your neck, and shook her head. 

She tutted disapprovingly. “Darling, if you must partake in those kinds of…” She paused, raising a perfect eyebrow delicately, “Activities…try to restrain yourself when you have official duties.”

You felt like stomping the ground, no matter how childish it was. Your mother always made you feel like this. Like a small, insignificant child, wandering about the world in dumb confusion, and not a fully grown adult woman. You opened your mouth to protest, but your mother waved a hand, dismissing you. You turned, your shoes pattering on the marble floor. You had just reached the door when she spoke last time. 

“And for god’s sake, clean yourself up.”

You slammed the door behind you and made the long trek back down the twisting halls and into your chambers.

All through the short and unpleasant meeting you had avoided meeting the eyes of your new ‘father’, but if you had dared to look, you would have noticed the pangs of hurt and disappointment flashing through his dark eyes. 

♔♕♔

Over the next few months, you did your best to avoid your new ‘father’. And soon, he gave up his little attempts to get to know you and treated you with the exhaustion of a man who accepted the fact that he was not wanted. Infuriatingly, he was never disrespectful of you, never treated you with contempt, and oh, how it angered you. It was hard to justify your hate when he was such a nice person. And so, a year passed, and then, only a few months before your nineteenth birthday, your mother died.

It was a carriage accident. She was on the way to a friend's house when the carriage was struck by lightning and thrown, burning, off the side of a cliff. It was a fitting end for your mother, fiery and dramatic.

 It was sudden, and in your opinion a much-needed breath of fresh air. Maybe you were a truly vile person for thinking this, but your mother had never truly loved you, and you most definitely had returned that hatred. But she was your mother, so even though you loathed it, you couldn't stop the few tears that fell at the funeral. 

Later that night, you go through your mother’s belongings and find a stack of leather journals, her personal diaries. Unsure of whether you want to know what these bound confessionals hold you let them sit untouched for a few hours. Finally, overcome with curiosity you open the volume marked with the earliest date and begin to read. As you read her diaries you let yourself cry in earnest. Your mother was a pitiful person, obsessed with beauty to a fault, and it in the end had doomed her, doomed her to a life of marriage to a man she didn't love, not allowed to love who she truly loved. Thinking back to the funeral you did notice the familiar and yet strange woman mourning your mother from the background. A friend your mother had called on at indecent times of the night. The pieces were beginning to fit together. You wanted to hate her, you really did, but as you read of her heartache, you felt yourself sympathizing with her. You hated that feeling, so you buried it deep in your heart, and burned the remainder of her diaries. As you watched the smoke billow into the air, you cried, your tears watering the vines choking your throat. 

 You watched in grim acceptance as Chan, your ‘father’, accepted the position of temporary monarch, at least until you got married. Truthfully, although you glared fiercely at him, you didn't mind. Being a monarch was a responsibility you were not willing and not ready to shoulder, and Chan was a fair, level-headed person. Those exact qualities were something you despised in him. It was hard to hate a man who was so easygoing and intelligent. But you hated him, you were certain of it. Every thought of him was accompanied by a pounding in your heart like the drumbeat of soldiers marching to war. When you laid eyes on him your body would flush with anger, your fists trembling and your breathing choking you with hatred. If this terrifying feeling was not hatred, you could not tell what it was. And you didn't know if you wanted to know.

♔♕♔

For the next several years, you settled into an uneasy peace, interspersed with dramatic fiery fights that left you running away from it all, on your favorite horse, and disappearing for hours on end. You would always ignore Chan’s worried face when you got back, intent on hating him.

You embroidered, chatted with your friends, rode your horse about the pastures, and begrudgingly met with your dreadful fiance. And just like that, four long years had passed and you were nearing your twenty-fourth birthday when Chan summoned you into his study.

You hated his study, hated how cozy he had made it with warm red curtains and dark cherry wood surfaces, hated the faint smell of woodfire, and Chan's deep musky scent that made you heat up with what you were sure was anger. You avoided this room of the castle at all costs, but even you could not ignore a direct summons, so you stood before him, avoiding his eyes. 

“Name, please sit.”

He waved his hand and you wanted to refuse, but you valued your comfort over your stubborn nature so you sat across from him on the red satin couch, munching away at a few biscuits and avoiding his eyes. You watch Chan’s hands as he places you a cup of tea in front of you, and pours his own. You take a deep breath, the sweet scent of jasmine, your favorite tea, filling your nostrils. Chan sighed, the breath gusting out from between his plump lips as he spoke. 

“I hear you did not attend your usual meeting with your fiance.” You do your best to portray your annoyance with your face as you speak, still not meeting his eyes. 

“Lord Brandish is dreadfully boring and dull, I just could not stand to speak with him again.”

Chan sighs a sigh of frustration, one that only you can manage to pull out of his mouth, and sets his teacup down on the wooden surface of the table. He looks at you and you hate the disappointment leaking from his eyes. 

“Name, you are nearing your twenty-fourth year already, soon it will be time for you to get married and take over rulership of this kingdom.” 

You hate how level-headed and smart he sounds, and how in comparison you sound like a dumb immature child. What makes it worse is the way he handles you, so patient even after you treated him with such disrespect. You slam your tea cup on the table, the hot tea sloshing over your fingers. You hiss at the burn and Chan rushes to your side, his strong hands grasping your own.

“Name are you alright? Does it hurt?”

His hands are big, much bigger than your own, and the comforting warmth envelopes you, spreading from your hands all throughout your body. The warmth scares you, but in a moment of weakness, you let him caress your hands gently, smoothing ointment onto the burns. It takes a moment, but Chan meets your eyes, perhaps wondering why you haven't yanked your hands away and stormed off. You find yourself wondering the same thing and hurriedly yank them away, settling as far away from him as you can. He seems to sink in on himself, returning to his seat and clearing his throat. 

“As I was saying, you cannot miss these appointments, they are vital to your future relationship with your fiance…”

He continues on, and you tune him out, your anger slowly building. How dare he, who is he to command you like this? As usual, anger is your first reaction, and you brandish it both as a shield and a sword.

“I refuse to go.”

Chan stops, his eyes meeting your own, and waves his hand around.

“Name, you're being childish. You must continue to go—”

You interrupt, your heart beating in your ears. 

“I refuse!” 

You hate your fiance, hate his crude remarks, his overall poor attitude, and the way his slimy hands feel up your thighs at every opportunity. Lord Brandish is a truly vile man, but of course, he puts on his mask, playing the part of the perfect gentleman in front of Chan and your servants. 

Lord Brandish appeared to them a perfect man, as handsome as he was kind, and they simply could not understand your animosity towards him. And to you, you would never tell. The mere thought made you feel pathetic, running to your ‘father’, admitting you could not solve all your problems on your own. It felt like weakness, and you hated weakness. So you bottled it up and did your best to treat him with absolute contempt, hoping maybe, he would just refuse to marry you. Sadly, that day had not come. 

Chan threw his hands up in exasperation, as you continued on. Your voice trembled embarrassingly as you jumped to your feet. 

“Who are you, how can you make me go?”

You could see he was finally losing his patience as he stood as well, his hands waving annoyed patterns in the air. 

“Name, I don't understand why you can't just listen to me for once!”

You are yelling by now, your usual defense mechanism, anger, spewing out of your painted lips like knives, flying at their target and embedding themselves deep in his chest. 

“I can't! I won't!”

Your words are basically nonsense, the emotions you had buried deep in your heart, all those tears you had refused to let fall, years and years of loneliness and resentment crawling their way out of your heart. Akin to ugly black vines, the leaves long withered, and dead, weaving their way up your body, tearing through your internal organs, and exploding out of your mouth in ugly sobs. You bite the sobs back, they were a weakness. 

Anger is burning in Chan's eyes. The two of you had indeed had fights before, but for some reason, this particular fight felt different. There was a quality in the air, floating around the two of you like a deadly wind, disturbing everything it touches. You were basically in hysterics by now, hands clutching and tearing at your necklace, and it was no longer about the conversation, no longer about Lord Brandish. This was about something much deeper, something darker, something you weren't ready to talk about yet. 

The vines were back, tearing at your throat and teeth, and in a moment of weakness, you let them out. All your resentment tearing out of your mouth in three final words.

“I hate you.”

They were words you had never dared to say, never quite believed, and the moment they left you, the moment you looked up and saw his face, the anger melted out of you and you burst into tears. It was all too much, the pain on his face, the way he stumbled back slightly, the way his hand trembled as he reached for you. The tears were still burning a hot path down your cheeks, staining the collar of your dress dark with water. You felt pathetic and small, and most of all, you knew at that moment that you didn't hate Chan. You thought it would feel good to finally say those words out loud, that it would feel like a relief. Instead, the feeling that ran through you was regret. The vines that had poured out of your mouth were suffocating you, and all you wanted to do was cry and cry until it all went away. 

You were still so young, so immature, and you felt so, so regretful. You were drowning in your tears, you were suffocating in your clothes and you just wished it would all go away.

Warm arms enveloped you, pulling you into a hard chest, caressing your hair roughly. You began to cry harder, the words coming out jumbled and croaky. 

“Chan, I apologize. I never meant it, I just—”

His deep voice interrupted your choked apologies, his hands rubbing soothing circles in your back. 

“Shhh, I know. I know.”

His kindness, his ever-present kindness, just made your tears fall faster, your hands knotting in the back of his shirt.

“You are just so kind, and I was so horrible to you and I apologize—”

He just stroked your back soothingly, murmured nothing into your hair, and let you cry, years' worth of emotions wetting the thin fabric of his undershirt. It felt good to cry, and those horrible dead vines wrapped around your throat slowly loosened, falling gently around your shoulders, and turning a brilliant vibrant green. Leaves sprouted and you cried and cried, until the sun sank below the distant hills, and you found yourself still laying in his arms, embraced on the floor. It had been so long since you had felt a touch of comfort, and you would have compared it to the times your father had held you like this, but for some strange reason, it didn't quite feel like that.

It felt comforting of course, but you also felt strange. Your cheeks flushed pink, your heart pounding against your ribcage. You had always assumed this strange feeling was rage, but maybe…

You hurriedly put a stop to that line of thought. For now, you should do your best to make it up to Chan and enjoy your time with your ‘father’.

♔♕♔

Over the next few weeks, you spent more and more time with Chan. The two of you would eat each meal together, and you found that he was actually very pleasant company. You found he shared your love of horse riding and promptly planned a picnic. The servants cooed over your relationship, most of them just grateful you were both happy, although you had heard strange whispers and giggles from the maids every time you interacted. You asked them, but they had just giggled and ran off. It was strange but you were too happy to dwell on it as you anticipated your picnic. 

It was a beautiful day for a picnic, the sun smiling down and the wind tossing your hair around your head gracefully. Your favorite horse, Pearlie whinnied and reared playfully into the air as you stroked her pure white coat. 

Pearlie was a beautiful white mare, gifted to you on your fifteenth birthday by your father. You took one look at her pure white coat and promptly named her Pearlie. Your father had dissolved in laughter and patted your head reassuringly. 

Pearlie was docile and playful, and you adored her with your entire being. Her long white main blew gently in the wind, the sun bouncing off her gold embroidered saddle and almost blinding you. You patted her reassuringly.

“Just wait a minute more Pearlie, it's almost time.”

A cough sounded behind you and you whip around, your eyes coming to rest on Chan. Your breath caught in your throat. He looks positively radiant, clothed in a thin white shirt and tight black pants, his hand grabbing the reins of a gorgeous black stallion. His brown curls blew gently in the breeze, he smiled at you, his dimples peeking out. You felt your heart heating up and again, your heart beating insistently in your chest, bumping against your ribcage and begging to be let out, if only to jump into his arms. Much like you wanted to do. A flash of gold caught your eyes and you looked down, blushing as naked flesh graced your eyes. The front of his shirt was undone, and a bit of fair peck peaked out at you. A golden pendant hung around his neck, swaying gently as he walked, drawing your eyes towards its golden glow and the swaths of skin available for your eyes to devour. You hurriedly yanked your eyes away and mounted your horse. Chan joined you, pulling his black stallion up next to yours. He smiled and your heart felt like it would simply rip from your chest and leave you cold and dead. 

“Ready to depart?”

You managed a nod and urged Pearlie into a trot. You let the wind cool your heated cheeks, let it caress your face and toss your hair, and all too soon, you had arrived at your destination.

The lake was special, a spot you had discovered one day, running from your mother's wrath. The sunlight bounced off the pure blue surface, and the trees around it were such vibrant greens, rivaled only by the bright wildflowers littering the ground. The air was warm, and butterflies scattered as you dropped to the ground, Chan following suit.

He let out a noise of amazement. “This place is extraordinary.”

You smiled, happy that he thought so too. “Isn't it? It's my special place.”

You were busy laying out the blanket and missed the look he sent you, so full of happiness tinged only with a slight flavor of longing. 

You plopped down on the blanket, and he joined you, laying out the spread of treats. Small bite-size sandwiches, little cakes and pies, and a large pitcher of iced jasmine tea. It made your mouth water and you delicately picked up a small raspberry pie, taking a bite. Your teeth sank into the flaky pie crust, the slightly tart filling making your taste buds sing in delight. You let out a moan of satisfaction as you finished the treat, reaching for another as Chan laughed. 

“You like raspberries?”

You nod, your mouth full, and swallow a delicious bite. “The kitchen really outdid itself.” It is a picturesque afternoon, and in no time at all the large spread of food is long gone and the both of you are laying back, letting the breeze play gently with your clothes and gazing into the pure blue sky. Birdsong fills the air, and you can see butterflies darting around from flower to flower, never stopping for too long. Faintly, you think you can hear bees buzzing in the distance, and sure enough, across the lake, you spot a bees nest, hundreds of bees buzzing around it, little soldiers devoted to their work. The smell of nature fills your nostrils, wispy clouds arching gracefully and the sun blazing a path across the blue, blue sky. 

Chan breaks the peaceful silence, clearing his throat before speaking. “I am really glad we could do this.”

You nod, turning your body to face him, your arm squishing uncomfortably below your side. He looks positively radiant beside you, beaming at you, his dimples doing horrible things to your heart. You cough and reply. “I'm sorry, I was stubborn.”

Chan sits up, waving his hand in protest. “No, Name I didn't mean—”

You sit up as well, your hair falling around your shoulders and tickling your bare skin. It all just feels so carefree, you feel a smile carving its way across your face. 

“I know, Chan. I know how kind and forgiving you are.” You take a deep breath, stealing yourself to let your emotions show. “I should have noticed earlier. I took my irrational anger out on you and I apologize.”

You're not used to apologizing, and you know your dialogue sounds stiff and formal, but you can't quite think of another way to get it out. 

Chan moves to protest, but in a moment of ill-advised boldness, you place a finger gently on his plump lips, bringing his words to a sharp halt. 

“Chan. Let me apologize for this at least.”

He nods, and your hand falls reluctantly from his lips, finger hot from the contact. You're left looking at him, your eyes staring deep into his own deep brown ones and falling down, down, down. The world around you disappears, the birdsong fading away to nothing until all you can see is his face, highlighted by the sinking sun, his tousled brown hair, and those disastrous dimples disappearing as his smile fades, his eyes dipping from your own to focus on your lips. You're frozen in time, filled with a longing you finally understand. Those symptoms you for so long assumed were hatred were in fact desire. You long for his touch, for his warmth, and shamefully, for his love. The metaphorical vines curled lovingly around your neck begin to bloom, white lilies falling from their stems and plopping into your lap. The sun suddenly seems to shine just a little brighter, the leaves seem a more vibrant green, and the birdsong returns, louder and more beautiful than ever. You are floating, dancing in your happiness, the relief of realization rendering your body light, and now you're soaring, dancing on the cloud tops, but then, you fall. The guilt pours in, guilt over your love, your love of your mother's husband, a man who probably still devoted himself to her, even in her passing. And you know you could never compare to your mother, her beautiful face still etched in your mind, her cold expression glaring at you from her perch on the wall, her face immortalized in a royal portrait, frame made of solid gold. And you know, that you can never have this man, the man you want and have wanted for longer than you were willing to admit to yourself. And with that, the sun sinks below the hills, and the vibrant colors leak out of your surroundings. You break eye contact, turning away and standing up. 

Chan jumps to his feet. “Time to go?”

You nod, forcing a smile, and grip Pearlies reins in your hand. You turn, away from Chan and gaze out over the lake. This spot will be forever intertwined with bittersweet memories, a place where you came to realize your unrequited, very forbidden love. A heavy warm hand lands on your shoulder and you turn, Chan's worried face greeting your own. You find yourself mesmerized by his lips as he speaks. 

“Name, are you alright?” He scratched the back of his neck, looking uncharacteristically and adorably shy. You took a deep breath and put on a smile. “I'm fine Chan, just a little tired.”

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes studying your face, and you did your best not to feel a little self-conscious. But then, he was done and you turned away, mounting Pearlie as he jumped atop his black steed, and you set off back to the castle. 

The ride back was silent, the orange glow of the sunset bathing the hills in fire, and the fireflies had come out to play. It was a beautiful scene, but you couldn't bring yourself out of your somber mood and the two of you rode home in tense silence. 

♔♕♔

Later that night, as your maids bustled about, lighting the lanterns one by one until the room was bathed in candlelight, you noticed the strange new addition to the room. A large mirror. Your head maid noticed where your eyes were going and helpfully chimed in. 

“Was your mother”s, she left it to you.”

You frowned. It didn't look like anything your mother would own. It was old, the glass slightly foggy and no matter how you strained your eyes, you could not make out a reflection. The rim of the mirror was gaudy, gold with inlaid jewels, and for some reason, as you stared at it you got the unpleasant sensation of eyes on you, watching you as you crept closer. 

You stretched a shaking hand out, and just as your fingers brushed against the surface, the fog within the mirror began to swirl violently. You jumped, pulling the offending hand back and clutching it to your chest as the fog congealed, coming together until a face was visible. You looked away hurriedly. It wasn't as if the face was ugly, no, you would rather describe it as unnerving. It was a woman, her face what you could only call perfection, and it was a woman who you knew far too well. Your mother's perfect face stared back at you, immortalized inside this strange mirror even as her corpse rotted in the graveyard far from the castle. The maids were gone now, and as you stepped closer to the mirror a breeze came in through your open window, ruffling your silk nightgown and tossing your hair. The woman in the mirror spoke first, but the voice that exited its perfectly painted mouth was not your mother’s, no, it was a strange amalgamation of voices, male and female, blending together in a truly unpleasant way. 

“You must be my new master.”

The face in the mirror moved as it spoke, almost as if your mother was here in front of you again, and you hated it. You responded, trying to hastily tidy your unruly hair. You always felt so small next to your mother, so small and unattractive. 

“Your master?”

The face in the mirror never changed, no emotion ever crossed its stone-cold face and the longer you stared at it the more dazed you felt, as if a heavy fog was suddenly blanketing your mind. The world seemed to fade away and all you could see was the mirror. The mirror spoke again, its words cutting like ice, pulling your insecurities out of your mind and weaponizing them against you. 

“You can be the object of his affection.”

Every emotion was heightened, and you felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes as a sudden and intense desperation enveloped you and you rushed forward, gripping the sides of the mirror.

“Tell me! Tell me this instant!”

Your voice sounded desperate even to your ears but for some reason you didn't care. The mirror’s perfect face curved into a stunning smile, as its ruby lips parted one final time, and a poem fell from them. 

You repeat the first line of the poem as you exit the castle, your heels clicking much too loudly on the cobblestone path. 

“Enter the woods, under moonlight so bright…” You lift your eyes to the sky and breathe in relief as the moon decides to peek out from behind the clouds, lighting the path in front of you. 

You were always told never to enter the woods, and you hear the words echoing in the back of your mind, but the strange fog in your brain quickly blankets it, and you step off the cobblestones and onto the well-worn path into the woods. You reach into your pocket, pulling out a compass as you recite the next few lines in the poem. 

“A choice will be yours, surrender tonight, Walk to the north, not south or not west.” The woods are dark, the trees foreboding, their branches reaching desperately toward the moonlight. It's silent, unnervingly silent as you walk off the beaten path, your shoes touching damp grass, padding softly across its surface, and leaving crushed beaten grass in your wake. Not a sound crosses your lips, as you walk on, through the large trunks of huge black trees. You look at the little paper where you hastily scrawled the mirror's words, and read the next line.

“Until in a grove, she grants your request…”

Sure enough, ahead of you, your eyes catch on a break in the trees. The dark trees gave way to green moss and stones, and the moonlight poured into the clearing, illuminating the strange statue in the center. It's made of a peculiar black stone and almost shines by itself. It's big, much taller than you and the edges are rough, like it was hastily carved. It mesmerizes you, as you stare deep into the black interior you suddenly feel the urge to touch it. You move your hand, almost in a trance, and brush the rough surface. The surface is smooth, and ice cold, and as your fingers leave its surface it begins to melt away slowly, black goo melting off its surface and sizzling into the ground. The goo swirls, and the ground below it seems to melt away until a shining glass statue is revealed. The statue is large, almost your height, and of a woman. Her face is covered with a strange mask, round and smooth and without any features at all, her hair cascades down her shoulders, reaching all the way to the ground. She is clothed in a skin-tight gown, with a revealing slit up the side. Her feet are bare upon the grass. In her hand, she holds a single object, a shining golden apple. The paper in your hand flutters to the ground, long forgotten as you stare wide-eyed at the apple. Its shimmering surface mesmerizes you and you find yourself reaching out, and gripping its smooth surface in your hand. 

It's cold, and as you bring it to your lips, you have the vaguest feeling of foreboding. In the back of your disordered mind, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Chan, screaming at you to stop, to put the apple back and turn, leaving the woods for good. But the mirror's promise echoes in your mind and you open your mouth, taking a single bite of the apple. The skin is thin, the flesh just the right amount of sweet and tart. The apple is delicious, and as you chew it, you suddenly hunger desperately for more. Your gaze zeros in on the apple and you bring it to your lips again, but just like that, it slips from your hand. You look around in confusion, only for your vision to start to fade around the edges, your hands are suddenly limp and as your consciousness fades, you have one clear realization. 

“I should have never listened to that mirror.”

The last sensation you feel is the soft grass beneath your legs, as you fall gently to the ground, and slip into a dark, dreamless sleep.

♔♕♔

Something was wrong. Chan could feel it, even as the clock ticked on endlessly, as the words scrawled on documents began to blur over, as you waltzed through his mind, your smile consuming his every thought. It was unhealthy, and so, so wrong. This woman, this young, beautiful, and when he had enjoyed the chance to know you, kind woman was someone he could never even touch. This woman who he lived too close to, was a woman forever out of his desperate hands, a woman he could never have, never kiss. The thought killed him. And that was why Chan took the long journey to your room, down the dark empty halls, past the portraits that judged his every move, and knocked quietly on your door. It was late, he knew that. Much too late for him to be visiting you, and Chan felt his face heating up as he realized how improper it looked. Him, a young man, visiting a young woman in the dead of night. But, he reassured himself as he stood in front of your door, his first thoughts had been innocent, a desire to talk to you, to laugh with you, even if his later thoughts had turned less proper. 

The silence worried him, and he knocked again, harder. The door cracked open, light pouring into the dark hallway and Chan frowned. You were up? At this hour? He realized how hypocritical that sounded, here he was, awake and trying to visit you, but in his defense, he hadn't been thinking of anything besides your smile. The smile he had glimpsed this afternoon, shining like the sun after rainfall. Chan had thought he might die. You looked radiant among the flowers, a forest fairy masquerading as a human, a being so perfect and radiant he might die if he dared to lay a hand on her skin. He truly wondered if he had died and gone to heaven. Your smile was like the sun peeking its way from behind the clouds after a storm, the storm of your hatred. Chan never wanted to be on the receiving end of your hatred ever again. 

He pushed the door cautiously, and peaked around it, taking in the fully lit candles and the strange mirror standing in the corner of the room. He stepped inside, taking the opportunity to look around your room, usually a forbidden place for him. Your room was large, with high sloping ceilings giving it a breezy feel. Your window was open, curtains flapping in the wind, and the moonlight poured into the room, illuminating the white sheets on your bed. 

Your perfectly made bed. Your dreadfully empty bed. 

Chan ran to the window, his heart pounding in his chest. What was going on, where had you gone at this late hour? He feared the worst, even as he leaned out the window, and spotted the imprints in the grass. Footsteps. His body froze, ice water coating his insides and dread in his thoughts. Where could you be going at such a late hour. He prayed you had not headed into the woods. The woods were home to many things, some good, some terrifying, and the thoughts of what could happen to you turned his mind to stone. You were the  woman he loved above all else, he could not let you die. Chan knew it was illogical. He should have waited until morning, gathered an armed search team, and departed into the woods, but he could not help the way he ran down the stairs, and flung open the castle doors, running barefoot into the woods. 

Alas, his searching was for nothing, because as he stumbled back in the morning, sleep deprived and emotional, he still had not found you.

♔♕♔

And thus, six uneasy days passed. Chan pulled together a search team. He insisted on coming along, even if the head butler protested, and the team of strong volunteers turned the woods upside down in search of you. Night after sleepless night passed, and the dark circles under Chan’s eyes grew and grew. The servants whispered, their concern for their employers spread to the townsfolk and finally on the morning of the seventh day, they received a tip from a huntsman. A tip that told of a woman, asleep in a glass coffin, deep in the woods.

Armed with this information, they stumbled through the woods, exhausted men led by their relentless king, a man driven by a love he didn't even realize. And as the sun set on the seventh day, Chan found you.

The clearing was bathed in the rays of the dying sun, the light illuminating the intricate glass coffin taking up the center of the clearing. And laid in that coffin, still as death was you, still clothed in your white nightgown, hands crossed gently over your chest, holding a perfectly preserved golden apple. Chan feared the worst, stumbling to the coffin with a cry and throwing it open. His hands desperately felt for a pulse. Fear poured over his heart, as he felt nothing…

…a pulse, faint but definitely there. Chan collapsed to his knees, his head falling against the edge of the coffin, his hands desperately clutching the glass sides, and cried.

And that's how the rest of the search team found him, crouched against the glass coffin, tears streaming down his cheeks, knees grass-stained and dirty, looking nothing like the king he was, only a man brought to the ground with relief. 

They moved you to the castle, careful not to disturb you, and laid you to rest in your bed. Only then did Chan allow himself to sleep, although his dreams were nightmares, plagued with you, encased in glass, dead to this world. He awoke the next morning and rushed to you, certain you were awake but when he arrived in your room, took in your form, now changed into a white silk nightgown, still fast asleep. The maids shook their heads, and he rushed to your side, desperately calling your name. He tried and tried, but you remained as silent as death, faint pulse the only evidence that you were even alive, and he finally collapsed, sinking into a chair the maids had provided and taking your cold hand in his own. He took you in, your hair, now washed courtesy of the maids, fanning around your head, your eyes closed, lashes kissing your cheeks, your pretty mouth, open slightly as you breathe. Your skin was cold to the touch, and you made barely a sound in the room, cold and silent as death.

Cold and silent as your mother had been. 

Chan was never in love with your mother, and in turn, she had never loved him. It had been like a contract for her, to hide her secret lover from the public. She said lover, but Chan was not sure your mother could truly love anymore if the way she treated you was any indication. 

Chan still remembered the day the queen had shown up to his small house, in all her royal glory, and asked him to marry her. He had agreed, if only to support his siblings, and moved into the castle. He remembered the day he had met you, a woman so beautiful and full of life, so bright as she glared at him, so angry as she ignored him, such an opposite of the woman he married. He had admired you since the day he met you, your glowing beauty seemed to light up the room, your smile like the sun after a rainy day. Even your anger was vibrant, so much better than your mother's cold treatment of all living things. But soon he hungered for more. He longed to be on the receiving end of your smiles, to no longer be subject to your hatred. And then, one day, his wish had come true. After years and years of receiving your glares, one of your brilliant smiles had been reserved specifically for him. Not for the stable boy you favored, not for the new butler who the maids gossiped about, not even for your gossipy friends who smirked in his direction, no, this smile was reserved simply for him. It was karma, he decided, that the night after he received such a privilege, you disappeared for seven days, and then refused to wake up. 

Chan brought your ice-cold hand to his lips and pressed one gentle kiss upon your soft skin. Tears fell silently down his cheeks and dropped onto your hand. Chan prayed your fingers would twitch, that your eyes would flutter, and then open slowly, that your skin would warm and the color would return to your cheeks, but alas, no such thing happened. Your eyes remained closed, your skin remained cold, and the only thing he felt was a tap on his shoulder. The doctor had arrived. 

♔♕♔

The only sound in the room was the flip of paper, the rustling of pages turning. Chan glanced up from his book, hoping that your eyes would open, but alas you remained as still as ever. The doctor had come and gone, unable to do a thing, and the maids, having grown tired of his constant staring, had provided him with some books to occupy his mind, at least until the next doctor came to visit. Much to his chagrin, he had found himself being sucked into the world of the characters. He found himself sympathizing more and more with the main character, a man who was in love with a woman he could not have. He turned the pages eagerly, absorbed every word, and found the world melting away. He understood John, the main character in the novel, as he pinned over Elain, the young woman he loved and soon the characters were no longer John and Elaine, but they became Chan and you, and he imagined every interaction as you and him. It helped him escape, helped him hold hope that one day you would wake up and interact with him again. 

The book had a happy ending. John and Elaine got married and moved into John's large house together. Chan felt satisfied as he put down the book, leaning back in his chair. He could picture your wedding. You would look stunning in white, just as you looked now. And he would watch you walk down the aisle, smiling from ear to ear. Your vows would be exchanged, and you would retreat to the wedding bedroom. Chan felt his cheeks heat up, but he continued with his fantasy even as he glanced around nervously. There you lay, asleep and peaceful on the bed. He could not dare to do such a thing in front of your sleeping form, so he stood up and turned the chair around. It was much better to face a wall and do such a thing as touch himself thinking of you, right in front of your sleeping face. He still felt like a degenerate as he imagined the scene. 

You would tease him, you liked to tease. He could imagine it now, your first layer of skirts falling gently to the floor, leaving you only in your thin underlayer. He could see your nipples, perky and rubbing against the fabric. 

Chan gulped, palming himself slightly over his pants. It was embarrassing how quickly he rose to hardness, over a simple fantasy. 

You would let the last layer fall, and sit on the bed, your perfect body on display for his greedy eyes. He watched as you smirked, spreading your legs and bearing your core for his eyes. Chan gulps as you beckon him forward, falling to his knees before your core. 

The Chan in reality refuses to actually pull himself out of his pants, electing instead to press harder, his palm doing its best in the circumstances as he falls back into his fantasy. 

You grip his hair, smirking down at him, and with enough force to startle, shove his face into your—

A knock sounds on the door, interrupting his dirty fantasies and Chan hurriedly does his best to hide his hardness, pulling himself as the maids lead the next doctor in. If they notice his disheveled appearance and how the chair is now facing the wall, they don't say a thing. 

♔♕♔

For the next few days, the castle was abuzz with worry. The news spread fast, and soon villagers were lining up with gifts. Everything from jewelry to a bouquet of wildflowers given to him by a small girl, who sobbed and asked if the princess would wake up. Chan did his best to reassure her, even if on the inside he felt like crying. 

He summoned every doctor he could, but none of them seemed to have an answer. You seemed to be stuck in time. You didn't need to eat, or drink, and you didn't change one bit, from the moment they found you laying inside that glass coffin, deep in the woods. Hours turned to days and you didn't wake up. Chan despaired. He posted desperate notices around the kingdom, begging for any information regarding endless sleep. He tried any and every doctor he could, he prayed to any god available, but alas, nothing. 

Days turned to weeks, and the word seemed to move on around him, even as you slept, so beautiful but so lifeless, and even as Chan despaired. He did his best and ran the kingdom like he was supposed to, but everyone could tell his heart wasn't in it. His eyes looked glazed and distant, and he spent all his free time sitting by your bed, holding your hand. The villagers and nobles cooed at his dedication, calling it the love story of the century, but the servants did their best to keep the rumors from him. A month passed, and Chan feared you would never wake again. He was so close to giving up, when one day, a strange woman entered the palace, and with her dirty robes, she brought his hope. 

The woman appeared old, but with witches, you could never be so sure. She smiled at Chan, looking calm and complacent, a sharp difference from Chan’s harried look. She was wearing a long red dress, a woolen cloak covering most of her body. When she first appeared, it had been covered in mud, but between the time she had entered the door and Chan had brought her to your room, the cloak looked brand new. 

Chan spoke first. “Do you think you can help her? She won't wake up and I don't know what to do anymore—”

The witch raised a manicured finger, and Chan stopped talking, effectively shushed. The witch spoke, and her voice echoed in your large chambers, years younger than her appearance. 

“I'll see what I can do.”

Chan blinked, and when he looked back at her, she had de-aged, looking closer to thirty than ninety. Her blond hair, cut in a sharp bob at her chin, peaked out from her hood as she smiled at him. Witches and their disguises. Her blue eyes lined heavily with black, took in the situation and Chan watched nervously as she walked to the bed where you lay, still as cold and silent as ever before. She looked at you for a second, her eyes scanning your features, frozen in time before her eyes moved to the golden apple, sitting inconspicuously on your small bedside table. Chan frowned as she picked it up, turning it around in her hands, her nails filed to lethal sharp points, and painted a dangerous red. He had never given the apple much thought, too concerned with your state, but as she turned it around he noticed the one, small bite, perfectly preserved, on one side. 

Chan can't help himself, he rushes forward. 

“Is that what it is? Is she poisoned? Is she never going to…”

He can't bear to say it and lets the sentence trail off. The witch stares at him for a moment, chewing something in her mouth, before she takes pity on his sorry state and sets the apple down, turning to him. 

“Yes, cursed apple. But…”

She turns and walks to the strange mirror that had been sitting in the corner of your room. Chan watches in horror as she lifts a pointy heeled shoe, and gracefully kicks the mirror. The surface shatters, the pieces clattering to the ground like rainfall, and Chan opens his mouth to protest but shuts it as he watches. 

The pieces have risen in the air, distorting and twisting until they crash to the earth, and with a strange howl, one that sounds a lot like despair and fills his soul with sadness, they vanish. The room seems automatically lighter, like a disturbing presence has been removed from the room, and Chan suddenly felt a bit more optimistic. The witch turned to him with a sigh, tossing the apple in the air. Chan watched it spin, slightly mesmerized. 

“Alright, it seems like that vile mirror convinced your lover to depart into the woods and eat this apple.”

Chan frowned, questions spilling from his mouth. 

“How did the mirror do that? What kind of mirror was it and why would it do that? Also—”

The witch held up a hand, silencing him as the apple spins in the air again, coming to rest in her manicured hand. 

“It's a cursed mirror. A vile human soul, doomed to trick unsuspecting people into death.”

How did such a thing end up in your possession? He can only imagine the horrible thoughts it must have put into your head. Chan’s horror must show on his face because she chuckles a little as she continues. 

“It must have played on her insecurities, impersonated a person she feared or respected, and convinced her to go into the woods.”

The witch moved over to the window as she spoke, and drew her arm back, and with all her might, threw the golden apple into the sunlight. It spuns in the air for a moment, before it exploded with a bang, disappearing into thin air. Chan staired. The witch laughed.

“That apple,” She said, dusting her hands of imaginary dirt. “Is a cursed item. It's the usual thing,”

The witch held up two fingers, and pitched her voice, mimicking someone. “Cursed to sleep until she receives true loves kiss,’ it's so cliche but some witches still rely on the old stuff—”

“True love’s kiss?”

The witch looked at him like he was stupid. “Yes, true love's kiss. Should be easy for you.”

She pulled the hood of her cloak up, and Chan watched as wrinkles grew on her fair skin, her hair turned a dark gray, and she aged about fifty years. Her voice was still clear and young when she spoke. “Unfortunately, I have to go.” she waved an old wrinkled hand and smirked at him. “Good luck.”

And with that, she was gone, like she was never even there, leaving Chan to deal with the bombshell of a declaration she dropped on his head. 

Chan deliberated long and hard about this dilemma, his brain in conflict with his heart, worry constantly etched across his handsome face. He knew his kiss would work, he loved you more than he thought he had loved anything before. But as much as he longed to press his lips to yours, he was too afraid of the consequences, afraid of what would happen when his kiss worked and you opened your eyes. Afraid of the disdain that would cross your face once you realize your stepfather had inappropriate feelings for you. The thought of your face carved into a mask of disgust made his heart ache desperately in his chest, but he would rather live a life with your hatred than live a life without you entirely. 

He sank into the chair beside your bed and turned his eyes on your still form. You were so beautiful, but silent and cold as a statue and Chan longed for anything, your laughter, your screams, even your sobs, anything but this cold shell of a woman laying deathly still on the bed. Your lips, slightly parted in sleep, taunted him. Blushed a pretty pink, curved and sultry and teasing him even now. You were a temptress incarnate, and Chan would do his best to resist your charms until the very end. You were carefree, wild and the exact opposite of your mother, and as a result you had no shortage of admirers. Your fiance, who in Chan's opinion was a jerk, the stable boy, a handsome new butler, a young lord at a ball. And some of them, you favored them back, disappearing off for secret trists that your mother had scoffed at and Chan wished desperately that he was one of those men you snuck off with. He still remembered the fateful time he had accidentally heard you, panted moans and pretty cries painting a forbidden picture. You sounded so beautiful, and Chan had longed desperately that he was the one teasing those sounds out of you, not some upstart young lord. He was ashamed at the way he leaned against the wall, guiltily listening to your symphony of sounds, unable to bring himself to leave until you reached your high, sneaking off to take care of himself. It was a shameful memory, one he blushed at even now, even as he desperately prayed to any god available, and leaned forward, pressing his lips to your own in a chaste kiss. A kiss so full of longing, a forbidden taste of something he could only pine for, a woman constantly out of his reach. 

♔♕♔

The world was a sea of black. It stretched forever, all you could see. Your body felt weightless, and you blinked, looking around for something, anything. But there was nothing. You faintly remembered an apple, a mirror, and then the sensation of falling, but your memory after that was blank. You decided to walk forward, looking for anything. Your feet made no sound as you pattered across the nothingness, and after what seemed like only a few minutes, your vision began to waver. You felt a creeping sensation on your back, and a voice you could not hear urged you to run, run away from the thing behind you. You knew subconsciously that if it caught you, you would never wake up. And so you ran. 

You flew, your desire to wake propelling your feet, even as your throat begged for water and your legs burned. Somewhere in the distance, you saw light, and in front of that light, a figure. A familiar figure, a figure of a man you loved with all your heart. You ran and ran, and the Chan in the distance held out a hand that you longed to grab. Your feet moved impossibly faster, and you practically flew towards him, even as the sound of slithering behind you grew louder, the creeping sensation sending shivers up your spine. And as you came into the light, as you grabbed his bigger hand in your own, as he pulled you into a warm hug, the world around you faded. The strange dreamscape blurred, and you opened your eyes to the familiar colors of the ceiling, in your private chambers. You blinked, and looked around, your eyes catching on the figure seated beside your bed. Chan looked haggard, his eyes were highlighted by dark circles and his hair was a mess, but the relief in his eyes trumped it all. Your mouth felt dry as you opened it to speak. 

“I'm hungry.”

You watched in confusion as tears slipped from Chan's eyes, and he tackled you on the bed, hugging you tight to his chest. You fell back against the bed, your back hitting the silky covers as pounds of muscle crashed onto you, suffocating you in his embrace. You melted into it, albeit a little confused, and stoked his large back as he cried into your nightgown. Your voice cracked as you spoke again. 

“What's wrong?”

The door crashed open, and your head maid and bedroom maids crashed into the room. As soon as they lay eyes on you they were running to the bed, tears running down their faces. You were beyond confused but no one bothered to answer your questions. It took a long time for everyone to stop crying, and the maids promptly heard your complaint and brought you a bowl of warm soup and bread. Chan, still sniffling, sat in the chair by your bed and looked deliciously disheveled and desperate. You munched happily on your food as the castle staff piled into your room, and answered their questions.

Chan asked the first question. 

“Why did you go into the woods?”

You remembered the thoughts that had sent you into the woods, and now that you thought back on them it seemed oftly extreme. It seemed the mirror might have been the cause of them. You chewed thoughtfully as you answered. 

“This strange mirror, it told me I could be beautiful…”

You play with your spoon, a little ashamed and blushing deeply as you continue. 

“I was a little erratic, I am in love with this man and so I listened to the mirror’s rambles, even if they were irrational.”

You're too focused on your embarrassment to notice the giggles and looks traded among the staff, the way your stepfather's shoulders sink slightly, his disappointed gaze. Because he could never imagine that you love him, you must be in love with some young lord, a man who doesn't deserve your love, who could never give you what you want. He shook his head, putting a stop to that presumptuous line of thought. He knows you deserve someone younger than him, unmarried and full of youthful energy to match your carefree spirit. 

You keep glancing at Chan out of the corner of your eye, looking for any change in his expression, and you watch in delight as his shoulders sink, and his face darkens. You feel a flicker of hope spark in your chest, small and pathetic, but there nonetheless. You decide to test the waters a little. Clasping your hands together, you keep your eye on Chan as you speak. 

“I'm just so in love, I think of him every day, and I long to spend the rest of my life with him.”

You feel a little bad as you watch Chan’s face fall, watch his hands clenched in his lap. The small flame in your heart sputters and grows, roaring to life and heating your heart in a joyful fire. You are now sure he loves you back. He sends you a strained smile, trying to be encouraging. 

“That's, um, wonderful!” The servants giggle behind him, trading secret smiles hidden behind their hands. 

“So, when will I meet this wonderful man?” The emphasis on wonderful makes you want to laugh, and you choke back your giggles as you continue. 

“You know him.” Confusion flashes across his face. “I do?” The staff is muffling laughter behind their hands, but Chan remains ever oblivious. You smirk. “Yes, very well.” 

You think he might be the only person in the room, stuffed to the brim with castle staff, that hasn't gotten it. His brow furrows as he thinks. “Is it Lord Brandish?” You emphatically shake your head. He frowns. “I really can't think of anyone else…”

Your head butler coughed, running a hand through his perfectly combed silver hair. His voice is resigned as he speaks. 

“It's you, sire.”

The room is dead silent. Chan stands, his eyes wide as he turns to the head butler. “Really?” The butler nods, and Chan turns again, tripping over the leg of the chair and crashing onto the bed, narrowly avoiding your soup. Your head maid rescues the food from your lap and you grin as Chan blushes, pulling himself into a sitting position. His voice is uncharacteristically shy as he speaks. 

“Is it really me?” Your beaming as you nod and a hopeful smile lights up his handsome face. You throw the covers off your legs and stand, your feet hitting the soft carpet with a thud. 

Chan takes your hand in his own, and bows before you, bringing his full lips to it. Your heart pounds as he presses a delicate kiss to it. He straightens to his full height “I love you more than you can imagine.” Someone coos in the background, but all you can see is the handsome man in front of you, your hand still clasped in his. He drops your hand, and you feel his hand heavy on your waist, his other hand coming up to caress your jaw, tilting your head up. His voice is so soft as he speaks. 

“When I looked into your eyes, my heart felt like it would escape my chest and run into your arms.” Your own heart feels the same, and you wonder if you might die. He's closer to you now, and all you can see is him. Around you, the servants begin to creep out giggling and smiling as they leave. The door shuts behind the last of them but neither of you notice, too caught up in each other's eyes. His voice is raspy now, and his gaze drops to your lips, darting back up to your eyes and back down. “At that moment… I knew I loved you.” 

He's so cheesy, and if any other man was saying such sugar-coated words, you would laugh in his face. But when Chan says it, your heart pounds in your chest and your cheeks burn with the fire of your heart. You suppose everything is different with him. His breath hits your lips, intermixing with your own as he comes ever closer. His voice is a whisper when he speaks. 

“Can I kiss you?” You smile, your hand winding around to grip his shoulders, as you reply. “Please kiss me.”

And so he does. 

♔♕♔

Your wedding is a joyous occasion, the townspeople clap happily, and as you kiss your new husband, under a rain of lilies, clutching the precious flower in your hands, you think back on what an odd set of events had preceded it. To think, in a way, you had your mother to thank for your husband. After all, it was she who brought Chan into your life, her death that had indirectly caused the two of you to have an opportunity to become closer and her magic mirror that pushed you to go trecking into the woods in the first place. And as the joyous wedding bells rang through the air, as you and Chan boarded the carriage and sat side by side, your head on his shoulder as the driver whipped the horses into a trot, you found it in yourself to be thankful to her. For although she had caused you a great deal of pain, in the end it had shaped you into the person you were today, a person full of flaws, yes, but those flaws just made you human. 

“Why are you so quiet. Having second thoughts?”

You giggled, and snuggled closer into your husband's strong embrace. “I would never.” You replied, and tilted your head up for a kiss. 

And as your lips locked, and you drove off into the sunset, you were sure this was the happiest you had been in your whole life, but you knew, there were only happy days to come. 

♔♕♔

taglist: @angieknght, @moasworld, @lofasofabread, @smhlino, @elizalabs3, @orrrgannnic

#bang chan #bang chan x reader #chan smut #skz #skz smut #stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz x you #bang chan x you #mariannacrxss

[nohoney]

c&c reader would definitely force touya to get all dolled up to watch the Barbie movie ლ(◉❥◉ ლ)

Normally Touya is the one always calling you doll but he feels like one as you pick out his clothes for him, fussing over certain patterns and trying to coordinate his look until you’re satisfied. He’s not really one to care and let’s you do as you please. But this… he’s not feeling it. “I’m dressed like a douche.” he tells you as you pet the collar of his shirt.

“You’re not dressed like a douche.” you tell him off handedly as you decide if you want one or two buttons undone on the pink button up he’s wearing. “You’re dressed like Ken.”

“Ken is a douche.”

“Well Ken wouldn’t give Barbie this much sass,” there’s a playful tone to your words as you decide on two buttons to be undone and then fix the chain around his neck, “he’d be grateful to her.”

Touya has never worn this color scheme before and he’s visibly uncomfortable. Pink shirt with white pants, it looks fucking atrocious on him. Even if the clothes coordinate with your pretty pink dress, he just doesn’t feel like he looks right when he looks at himself in the mirror. The things I do for my girlfriend. he thinks to himself silently as you fix up the bows in your hair.

You’re free to dress like Barbie, Touya doesn’t really care all that much.

But to dress him up like Ken?

“Doll, I look ridiculous.” Touya tells you as you gather your purse and make sure that you have everything in it before heading out the door. “You can’t tell me that you think I actually look good like this?”

“Ugh stop whining. You will not be the only boyfriend dressed up by his girlfriend in the theatre. Look,” you apply gloss on your lips that smell like guava before speaking again, “it’s just for a movie so can you suck it up for me? It’s really important that I experience this with you.”

A beat of silence between the two of you.

You pull out a plastic baggy from your purse that has three rolled joints in it. Pink rolling paper of course. “You can get high before we go into the theatre and sit down.”

“Deal.”

#barbie is a cinematic experience that all people should watch #reader also definitely bought the ‘i am kenough’ sweater and gifted it to touya #and he actually wears it but at home #dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader #dabi fluff #k.inbox

[corporatefrog]

꒦‧₊ ꒷ Skateboarding w/ Team Stan [Headcanons] ✧.*

✧.* tags: skateboarding idk man, comedy, college au

✧.* Charactions: stan marsh, kenny mccormick, kyle broflovski, butters stotch

a/n: I was writing a different set of headcanons and started thinking about this and it got so long that I decided to just make it another post.

masterlist

Stan

Most skater aesthetic out of them all

even though he doesn't actually know anything

He bought the board because the like the IDEA of being someone who skates

But he’s too scared of falling down to actually do it

Much better at roller blading

but he'll NEVER admit it

mainly because people (cartman) would call him Ken because of the Barbie movie coming out

"Okay but why the fuck do you know that Ken uses roller blades in the Barbie movie?"

"Well actually that's none of your fucking business"

"Yeah okay dickwipe."

"THATS RICH COMING FROM A GAY ASS"

"It's literally pride month bro"

Kenny

Kenny on the other hand is the epitome of “I could do it this morning”

Makes you all sit around for 30 minutes while he tries to do an ollie

“Dude it’s okay if you can’t-”

“NO MAN I CAN! KAREN SAW IT!”

Like okay bro you can do an ollie

Gaming sessions of Tony Hawk Pro Skater where he does a move and says "yeah I could do that"

Gets the most hurt

mainly because he doesn't care

worst cast- and i mean WORST CASE- he dies and he's back the next day

at least now he knows that he can't do a rail grind off the golden gate bridge

Butters

Stan and Kenny try to teach Butters how to skate

turns out he doesn't really need their help

Butters ends up being 100x better than them INSTANTLY

Its the hawaiian blood

paddle boarding translates very well to skateboarding

“Woah! It’s so much easier when there aren’t waves coming at you!”

“I both hate you and idolize you right now”

“Stan close your mouth before a mosquito flies in”

You ask Butters to teach you and Kenny is AGHAST

Granted Butters is a shit teacher 

“Just picture the Hawaiian islands holding your hands to keep you steady.”

“What the fuck did they do to you there.”

“Well for one, we got absolutely plastered so they’re tripping balls 24/7”

Kyle

Kyle skates pretty fine

He and Ike were HUGE zeke and luther watchers fs

It was the only show they could agree on so sheila and gerald let them watch it 

He always wears elbow and knee pads though

The others (cartman) give him shit for it

But he’s the only one going home without any bleeding appendages so who’s laughing now

The only one that can actually do an ollie

Doesn’t brag about it but once everyone else goes home he’ll show you some pretty sick tricks

"So you're like the red head from the gay anime."

"No."

"Now we've just got to find a blue haired canadian- omg wait isn't your brother from Canada-"

"No."

"Planning the road trip right now. If you take your brother's passport I bet you can pass it off as yours."

"I regret telling you anything."

#why do i always think headcanons has 2 n??? #anyways i don't skateboard but that's not the point here #corporatefrog #south park #south park x reader #south park headcanons #stan marsh #butters stotch #kyle broflovski #kenny mccormick

[skxllz]

𝒫𝓲𝓷𝓴 𝓣𝓸 𝓜𝔂 𝓡𝓮𝓭

ken x male! reader

{ song; hey lover, the daughters of eve }

summary; ken discovers y/n's soft side after an argument.

warnings; sad ken, mentions of a panic attack. upset/angered reader, says things he doesn't mean. some angst but fluff at the end!! I think that's all? :'')

side note; I'm still new to writing for ken so I apologize if I haven't fully grasped his personality yet. leave feedback in the comments/reblogs! not proofread.

date started; 11.11.23

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“ y/n! please, talk to me! ” ken insisted for the umpteenth time throughout a span of fifteen minutes.

see, he's been pining after you like a puppy dog since you've woken up. the blonde resides in your house - and even though you've made it clear you're not interested in him that's a lie, he continues to bother you as if the pair of you are dating. from what you've heard, he used to be obsessed with barbie - and yes, you're aware of his situation of being a doll and coming from barbieland and all that complicated shit.

but, what you don't understand, is how he managed to find an interest in you. not only were the two of you complete opposites, but aren't dolls supposed to stick to their counterparts? barbie is his counterpart, isn't she? plus... do dolls even know about different sexualities, or is this one of those situations where labels aren't a thing?

well, no matter what the hell is happening, you just weren't bothered for it. ken was annoying you, actually making you regret taking the blonde in. again, a lie.

you just wished you could think. with him around, it was impossible to. work has been stressing you out, family troubles had arisen- you just didn't want the responsibility of a doll who was now in the real world as a fully grown man. did he even fucking age? probably not.

“ ken! ” you whirled around finally, stopping the male in his tracks from yapping your ear off again and again with the same choice of words. please talk to me, y/n! you were tired of it. “ please, for fucks sake, stop! ”

ken's worried expression turned down. his lips fell into a puppy-fied frown; his usual happy, sparkling blue eyes now reflecting... a broken sense of hope. “ what? ” he spoke quietly, voice cracking.

no, did he mess up..? was this... was this barbie, all over again?

surely not! y/n wasn't like that. he was always quiet; and even when he seemed moody, he was nice to ken! y/n didn't mind his presence, nor his quirky attitude, nor the fact that he could only ask questions and tell him how he was so good at beach!

... right?

“ ken, ” you took a deep inhale through your nose, closing your eyes to try and calm your growing irritation. once the irritating arose, so did the anger. and when you got angry- “ please. just... quit. I need some time to myself. ” your eyes opened back up, to show irises that held nothing but seriousness. “ do you understand? ”

“ but... y/n. ” ken breathed, quickly grabbing the hand that had lifted to make a knowing gesture - only to bring it to his chest with a big smile now lighting up his face! “ I'm here for you! I love you! please, let me he- ”

“ fucking- no! ” you snatched your hand away, only to probe a finger to his broad chest, which was displayed since the man never buttoned his shirts. “ I told you, again and again, that I need space right now. ”

he looked devastated, backing away - but you only moved closing, poking his chest with a rough touch and startling him. “ y/n- ” ken's voice came out in a whimper, but you cut him off again.

“ you're pissing me off. ” you growled, Corning him into the wall. the anger in your blaming eyes shone through, scaring the blonde that was already trembling. he had never experienced such... an emotion. sure, he's gotten mad at ken in the past, but ken's never seen it get this bad! the way y/n was staring him down, brows furrowed to the center between his eyes, teeth gritted- it made men's body react in a way that he didn't want if to.

why was he shaking?

you surely didn't notice, too caught up in the fuel of your raging emotions. “ you've been annoying the fuck out of me, ” you smacked his chest. he jumped. “ constantly down my throat! with, ‘ oh, y/n, what's wrong? please talk to me’ - well guess what?! I don't want to talk! ”

your breathing had become harsher, leaving your nostrils to flare. ken didn't know how to respond; his mouth was dropped ajar, shock and hurt evident in his face. “ I'm tired, ken. ” you rasped, your voice strained. “ of the constant whining, and your questions, and the god damn fact that I can't have any time to myself. you're always around! ”

ken's mouth closed, and he thickly swallowed. what were these things he was feeling? he's felt some... hurt with barbie before, but never this strong. it's like there is a dull throb in his chest, and it hurt more and more with each harsh word y/n said. ken didn't like it, mot one bit.

and now.. water was sliding down his cheeks? these are what barbie referred to as tears, right?

why were tears coming out of his eyes?

that's when he noticed he wasn't listening any longer, either. your shouting filtered out, blending in with the background noise of the whirring fan and television lowly playing. why couldn't he hear?

why was his... breathing picking up?

and- his stomach. It hurt. like knots, or something, was in his abdomen. it made him grab at his torso, forearms pressing tightly.

that's when you slowly calmed down, your breathing becoming regulated. you had turned away from him in the time you were yelling - not because you couldn't stan's to look at his pretty face, but because... that expression he wore.. it made you feel bad.

why'd he look like such a kicked animal? you hated it - the fact that he had you wrapped around his stupid finger. the fact that you knew, deep down, you had fallen for ken just as he had you.

that's exactly why you didn't want to be near him. It hurt, to know you were gaining feelings for another person. after your ex, you didn't want another relationship - not so soon, or... at all. the pain just wasn't worth it.

but, ken? he was an absolute babydoll. his blue eyes lighting up everytime he spoke about the beach, and the other ken's he got along with, and everything he's learned in the real world - including things about horses! he loves horses...

your brows curved down and you swallowed the ball that was arising in your throat. you couldn't... you had to apologize to him. you didn't mean anything you said.

and, as you slowly turn around, you realized that the sound of a sob caught your attention. your ears perked and you straightened, facing the bolonde.

ken had slid down against the wall, now on the floor, face in his hands as he cried. he kept furiously wiping at his eyes, trying to stop the tears - but as you could see, they wouldn't.

a frown immediately overtook your face, as did the look of regret and guilt.

“ ken... ” you mumbled, feeling horrible. what had you done?

you glanced away, sighing to yourself. then, cursing under your breath, you decided to finally out away your pride - you needed to help him. comfort him. and so, you closed the small distance between you two and kneeled.

“ ken- ” your voice, for the first time since ken had met you, was as soft as melted butter. in any other situation he'd be quick to look at you- because y/n, sounding as silky smooth as that? It couldn't be. but alas, he did not raise his head.

the sobs continued. his shoulders shook, his body trembled. you had really hurt the man, and it was setting in just how dire the situation was. ken has never experienced such a pain...

“ ken, sweetheart. ” you called once again, this time reaching forward to take ahold of his finger tips. he tried to jerk away, a reasonable reaction, but you wouldn't let him; sliding your fingers forcefully around the front of his own to pull them back from his face.

“ don't look at me! ” he cried out, squeezing his eyes shut and whipping his head away. his eyes were raw, red around the outside... his cheeks were tear-stained and his smile lines were biting through, making his frown that much more noticeable.

it was breaking your heart to see him like this.

ever so gently, you moved one hand away from his own to lift it to his face. your fingertips met the corner of his jawline, only to slide under; cascading to cradle the underside of his jaw and lift his head. “ ken. ” your voice was still soft, but held a sternness to it. “ ken, can you look at me? please? ”

ken had stopped sobbing by now, but the tears were still rolling. he was sniffling, hiccuping; trying to stop himself from looking so pathetic. It definitely wasn't manly to cry - and he didn't like that. why couldn't he stop crying?

the ache in his chest, it just hurt so much.

“ baby, ” that caught his attention, as he sniffled again, “ look at me. ”

for a moment, he didn't listen, and you thought perhaps he was being stubborn - which was valid -, but slowly he began to lift his eyes to meet your own.

his bright, baby blues were glossed over; sadness in them. tears kissed his lashes, making them stick together. he looked... pretty. but you still didn't want yo see him cry.

ken deserved to smile, and laugh - and you enjoyed seeing the corners of his eyes crinkle up when he grinned. his orbs always sparkled, radiating the best glow-y energy... but as of right now, they didn't. heartbreak just settled within them.

your frown deepened, thinking over what exactly you had said... It was some pretty fucked up shit. If it were you, you definitely wouldn't have wanted to hear it. the only difference is that you can take such words with a hard stare, not easily letting things like that effect you - but ken? his heart was as sift as a teddy bear. It's no surprise he ended up in a pile on the floor.

“ ken- ” your thumb stroked the side of his jaw. since he was calming down, he took notice - and he happened to like it. “ I'm sorry, for what I said.. ” your voice was no more than a whisper. you didn't want to startle him even more.

and, somehow, he took notice of that. ken was not the brightest, you knew that and so did everyone around him- he was the natural stereotype of a blonde. but, by the way he glanced down at your thumb while you moved it in slow circles, you knew that he knew you were trying.

“ I... ” you sighed, shoulders slumping “ I didn't mean any of it. I'm just frustrated, and overwhelmed. ”

ken was quiet, so you kept speaking. at least... the tears stopped. “ I know it isn't an excuse to yell at you, ” your eyes momentarily flickered down to his pouting lips. he didn't notice, so you quickly looked back to his eyes before he could. “ but I did. and I'm apologizing, because you didn't deserve that. any of it. you're a sweetheart - the sweetest guy I know. ”

“ I am? ” ken's voice finally rang out, coming out raspy and raw from crying. you winced from that, a pang of guilt taking over your chest... nonetheless, you nodded.

“ yes, ” he was looking up at you, eyes big and doe eyed as you spoke. you could feel a big, melty feeling in your chest. It was warm. “ you are. the sweetest, honey. ”

now that he was more focused, ken actually acknowledged the pet names you were using. his lips parted slightly and his brows raised curiously. did he hear you right?

you were no dummy, instantly taking notice. It made you grin, just the tiniest bit. “ I don't actually find you annoying. ” your fingers moved, gently scratching on the other side of his jaw.

ken's face was slowly lighting back up. the attention he was receiving was the kind he's always wanted. his heart, now moving faster like it always did when you were near, felt as if it was doing flips and turns and downright juggling.

shouldn't he be mad, though? you had hurt him.

but... you said you were sorry. you're giving him attention, and calling him sweet names, and even specifying the apology. that should be more than enough, shouldn't it?

but dear god, he wanted more.

you had been speaking the whole time, but of course the poor man zoned out; too busy focusing on your lips, and pretty hair, and gorgeous eyes, and tge way your mouth moved, looking oh so kissable-

“ y/n? ” ken spoke out before he could even comprehend it himself. you paused, looking at him expectantly- and a smile melted onto your lips.

“ yes, dear ken? ” you hummed, rubbing the pad of your thumb over the lining of his jaw. his eyes fluttered at that, nearly making you laugh.

“ can you.. ” he was breathless. “ can I... kiss you? ”

the movement of your thumb paused. your eyes zeroed in on his lips, then flickered back to his baby blues. he noticed, yet said nothing; choosing to let out a hopeful breath.

“ ... hm. ” you hummed, pretending to ponder. teasing was in your element, and often you'd do it to people yoy fancy- never to ken before, but.. he was an exception now, wasn't he? “ you want to kiss me? ”

“ yes. ” the blonde whimpered, eyes dancing across your face in impatience. “ please. ”

“ why should I let you? ” a twitch of a grin raised your lips, the corners if your mouth threatening to break out a full blown smile.

ken frowned at that. immediately, he thought this was more rejection- of course it would be. why would you suddenly want hi-

but you didn't let him think negatively. not anymore.

leaning forward, you pressed a soft, meaningful kiss to ken's lips.

ken was left... speechless. his eyes widened, and his cheeks turned rosey. why did he feel hot? warm? warm and hot? his body was tingly and on fire.

chuckling, you parted your lips from his, amusement shining in your orbs. “ you okay there, cowboy? ”

“ perfect. ” he breathed, staring ahead with sparkles in his eyes. literal sparkles.

you would've thought broke him if it weren't for his eyes flickering back into you, seconds later. his chest fell quickly in a large exhale of excitement. “ can you do that again? ”

you grinned.

“ of course... come here, blondie. ”

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