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blckbrrybasket · 7 days

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Good Luck, Babe.

Robin Buckley x Fem!Lesbian!Reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 10k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: no use of y/n, mentions of sex, underage drinking/smoking, fluff, angst, jealousy, allusions to a physical fight, reader is in denial, wingman Steve, childhood friends to strangers to lovers

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Robin and you have been best friends since you were kids. You offer to help her learn how to kiss…looking back on it now, there was no way you could have had a different ending.

Inspired by Good Luck, Babe by Chappell Roan

Knowing Robin was a privilege. So many people mischaracterized her as a weird band kid, and she was, but she was also so much more than that. She was the girl who wished she was older to be free, who stared mindlessly at the ceiling when she was bored, and the girl who stubbornly slept through her growing pains to ignore them. Maybe it was just you who looked deeper and for that, you couldn’t understand why anyone wouldn’t want to know her profoundly. For some inexplicable reason, you wanted to know her inside and out. Maybe that was why you had offered to help her practice kissing.

“It’s for whatever guy you’re interested in!” Robin snorted in incredulousness, “I am not interested in a guy.” How true of a statement that was. You groaned and shook her shoulders. “Okay! Then whoever you eventually like will be thanking me one day after we teach each other how to kiss.” Robin paused with a surprised expression, eyebrows sliding up her forehead. Holy shit, you were serious. Not kind of serious, still second-guessing serious, but one hundred percent wanting it serious.

She scoffed and turned her nose up. “I think you mean your future bachelors will be thanking me.” Falling back on banter was her only move to pretend she wasn’t as nervous as she was. “Robin!” You snapped back only to watch her fall back against your carpet laughing. Shushing her, you laid back against the floor to look at her. Once her slightly nervous giggling died down she shyly nodded. “Yeah, okay. Do you use tongue though?” Robin wrinkled her nose at her own inquiry. She’d heard girls talk about it before but she couldn’t see the appeal. “It sounds like it would feel gross.”

“Like a wet..snake slithering-” “Ew! No!” You pushed Robin away, careful not to knock over your fort, as you sat up. She snickered and mirrored your position, knees pressed together as you sat in front of each other. “It’s…nice.” You imagined. You had only kissed one person with tongue. David had just barely grazed your tongue with his when he’d grown too eager and immediately jammed his tongue into your mouth. You had to resist grimacing at the memory, hand fiddling unsurely with the flap of the makeshift red tent you sat in. “It feels good,” you tried to reaffirm. Robin tilted her head in curiosity. “So how do we do it?”

An age-old question that apparently nobody had the answers for. “You just kind of do. Don’t worry about it, you’ll know when you’re doing it right.” Creeping closer to when you’d be kissing her you felt the need to sit up straighter and run a hand through your hair, shit did you brush your teeth recently? The thoughts were knocked out of your head once Robin leaned in closer, a hand bracketing your cheek like she had seen in the movies.

Most people would have been nasty or blatantly disliked her, but you never did. You always saw her for who she was. Robin was thankful she had such a good best friend, yet she was unsure as to why the word ‘friend’ hurt her to say. Feeling the high of her emotions for you she leaned in. It wasn’t enough to dismiss her second thoughts, although your lips brushing against hers automatically shut her brain up. Her eyelids fluttered shut as she pressed forward to slide your lips completely together. Unlike seeing the couples on screen or imagining kissing a boy this felt right.

Robin remembers how her cheeks burned after you had kissed. If only you’d known how deeply her heart beat for you. It was a kiss or two, but it was enough to seal you in her heart. Unfortunately, the perfect bubble of that night would pop and become a memory after you two had grown apart.

Despite popular belief (Steve’s belief), the kiss wasn’t what caused you to become distant. You made no move to come out though. Hell, you didn’t even know yet. It was hard to decipher why you liked boys unless they gave you attention back. You never felt like that with Robin, but how could you? She was Robin Buckley. You were sure you would love her forever but that was what made it scary. That may have been a part of why you two weren’t as close anymore, but not a majority of the reason. She got new friends and so did you. Childhood best friends grow older and become different people, it happens all the time.

But Robin couldn’t let you go, so she held on for as long as she could. You tried your best to delay the inevitable, but you two were worlds revolving in different solar systems, so you watched each other's lives from afar. It was a weary dance, knowing you couldn’t stop the change. Robin felt the same, having seen you grow before her eyes. She loved how you used to go to parties to just hang out with her. She also remembered when that began to change, how you were invited to go play games, happily pulling Robin along. You hadn’t noticed the expressions on your new friends' faces. You didn’t realize that they didn't want Robin there, but she had. She always knew.

It was clear you were trying to not get drunk tonight. Neither you nor Robin tried to get inebriated when you attended sleepaway camp. Being older now meant most kids your age snuck out to play games and drink, but it never appealed to you. Nights like those were reserved for the sleepovers you had together. So it was another night where you stayed glued to Robin’s hip, sipping at a concoction that no doubt held more mixer than actual alcohol. What you didn’t expect was for Vicki to flounce over and beg you to join the circle for seven minutes in heaven. You never got invited to those sorts of games. One of your hands was pulled into Vicki’s, Robin’s eye twitching at the action.

As always though you looked to Robin first. “Come on Robs, it could be fun!” Robin scrunched her nose up before sighing heavily and sliding her hand into your outstretched one. She wished she hadn’t agreed to do this. A part of her brain screamed to leave as soon as she took your hand, but the other part of her wanted to go along with it. The moment you sat side by side she could feel eyes on her that weren’t yours. She imagined you could feel it too with how you hesitantly released her hand.

Robin’s shoulders raised, trying to shrink into herself more as she leaned back. Who was she kidding being here? She burned holes into the carpet while she zoned out, only partially paying attention to the music playing. It was easy to pretend she didn’t care when she didn’t have to look at you. One by one people had their turns when the bottle was finally passed to you. Instantly Robin’s eyes rose to watch you through the pieces of hair that fell into her face. She could tell you were nervous. The small shake of your hand gave you away. Robin would bet a million dollars that nobody else noticed your patterns like she did. That fact didn’t stop the bottle from landing on your ex David.

From what she knew he had not been a good boyfriend to you or any girl he dated. He didn’t try. Sure, she knew it was seven minutes in heaven and not dating but it couldn’t stop her from wanting to remind you how badly he sucked. A vicious feeling churned in her gut as she saw him help you up. It continued to boil within her once David held open the closet door for you. The slow shutting of it felt like a countdown till she inevitably shot up from her seat.

There was nobody she had to make an excuse for why she was leaving, she simply grabbed her bag and left for your shared cabin. No one batted an eye. Of course, she wouldn’t know how you awkwardly sat in the closet, not wanting to kiss him. You knew if you kissed him it wouldn’t feel like what it did when you kissed Robin. It was one of the first times you could remember being so scared about your sexuality.

That was also the first time Robin had been so jealous about who you hung out with. She wished she was a better person who didn’t care about what you did. It didn't affect her, so why did it? If she had dwelled on it further perhaps she’d remembered the hasty kisses you exchanged when wine drunk at sleepovers. How pretty you looked when you were splayed out on her bed, pulling her closer as you cuddled to sleep off the drinks. But by the time the sun rose neither of you would remember what happened on nights like those. So reasons continued to pile up for why you pretended you were someone different and reasons for why Robin grew more possessive.

You felt like a fraud. Did you even have a reason to feel like that? No one else in your life questioned you, except Robin was anything but thorough. You could see the look in her eyes. You knew she was questioning things. Unlike her, you didn’t want to know. The world wasn’t built for people like you, so you settled on becoming someone else. However, Robin could always tell when you were switching to a different personality. The first thing she noticed was that you smiled less when you were around new friends and that you did everything in your power to subtly avoid guys approaching you. There were two reasons why that was; A. you were a lesbian or B. you’re dating David.

Robin chewed noisily on her banana runts that were more than likely damaging her teeth. “So you and David..?” She hadn’t stopped thinking about that night. When you had come back from the closet to discover her gone you had been immediately worried, going to your cabin right after. Your voice floating up to Robin’s top bunk did little to calm her nerves when she admitted she wasn’t feeling fine. She never wanted to lie, but if you believed she was sick she wouldn’t say otherwise. It had blown over rather quickly when you saw no need to press further. Robin, however, couldn’t stop thinking about what might’ve happened that night and what was to come from it.

“Ugh, no,” Came your fast retort. “It’s not like that! He’s just…nice.” Was that possibly the best thing you could come up with? To be fair, it wasn’t like he was much more than that. Fling or no fling he would never have a long-lasting impression on your life. When you were seventy and living with Robin and your pets you wouldn’t think back to him. He was fleeting. “So there’s no guy..or girl?” Robin wanted to include the latter to see if you would say anything about it. No one had ever claimed she was sneaky.

You huffed out a breath and shook your head. “Dunno why you’re so invested, didn’t you say you didn’t want to imagine me in a relationship?” Robin flushed. “Well yeah! I don’t want to know when you’re kissing other people!” Neither of you picked up on her mistake. “Okay, then don’t ask!” You teased, but there was more to it. You didn’t want to tell her about your romantic endeavors. There wasn’t a sure explanation as to why, but you knew for sure you didn’t want her speculating who you were with.

However, Robin wanted more answers. She always did. All the Nancy Drew novels she read as a kid always got the best of her. But she also knew there was more to it than that. She saw what you were covering up, it was the same thing she did when you hugged her. Trying to still your beating heart. You were one and the same and yet neither of you would take the leap to admit it for a long time.

Robin had gotten there first. After another year going by of secret glances and steering clear of the Victoria’s Secret catalog. It was like the models could feel her looking! Aside from that, things had been going smoothly. She was beginning to figure herself out and she loved who she was. Robin wanted you to love who she had become as well. You were the obvious choice to come out to first. Okay, you weren’t as close as you had once been, but you still saw each other often! If anyone were to understand it would be you. You knew Robin the longest out of everyone in her life, besides her parents. Unfortunately, the day she planned to tell you, your family was hosting a soirée that foiled her plans.

It was supposedly a small get-together with a few tens more people than you expected. The only good thing to come from the crowd was that the home bar was open. You could easily sneak behind the counter, remembering how you and Robin used to. Was she coming tonight? Thinking on it briefly you turned and ducked behind the counter, grabbing a bottle. It wasn't a second later when someone called your name scoldingly. You jumped with a start only to hit your head on the edge of the cabinets. “Oh shit,” Robin gasped.

“Robin! You ass!” You hissed and grabbed her hand to pull you up off the ground. Robin stifled a laugh, dodging your swipe at her, guiding the bottle in your hand to the counter. It was all in good fun how Robin slashed her other hand out to grab your side. The jabs only pulled more giggles from you before you grabbed Robin’s waist and pulled her entirely behind the counter. “Come on! I was going to- oh hey, Tommy.” You leaned against the counter, acting innocent. “Hey ladies, I heard some noise down here. You alright?”

From the way his eyes only stayed on you, it was clear that he was only checking on you. Trying not to cringe at his opener you nodded. “We’re fine, Thomas. You can be on your way now.” He frowned, almost the pout of a petulant child. Like most boys his age, he was not used to being shut down. “And if I want a drink?” Tommy smirked and moved to lean against the counter. Your lips sucked in, pulling into a straight line. “There’s drinks in the kitchen. I think you’ll manage.” To cement your point you pointed your finger towards the kitchen before shooing him away.

Robin stifled a laugh at him stomping away. “What? You didn’t like him?” She joked, leaning on the countertop beside you. “God no. Him? I don’t like boys.” The admission slipped out without the logical part of your brain thinking. You hadn’t ever focused on that fleeting thought, purposefully ignoring it. The slip-up didn’t go unnoticed though, your body becoming rigid. “I-I like men,” you coughed out. “You know, not boys. They’re too immature.” A nervous laugh escaped your lips as you attempted to cover up. “You can tell me.” Robin returned.

It was an olive branch, a hope that you would take it and tell her what plagued you. Naturally, that didn’t happen. “There’s nothing to tell.” As if you could read Robin’s mind you continued on. “I’m straight.” The finality in your tone was overlooked by Robin. “I would never judge you. You know that right?” You sighed heavily and glanced at her. “That’s great Robin, but I’m straight. I don’t know what to tell you. I could kiss any girl and feel no different.” It was a challenge you felt Robin would be forced to turn down. Surely she wouldn’t step up to it.

Little did she know that you were projecting and suppressing how you felt, which was the complete opposite. Nevertheless, at seventeen neither of you knew when to quit. “Then do it.” Robin retorted. You scoffed and raised an eyebrow at her. “You seriously want to see me kiss a girl?” Robin jutted her chin out and nodded. “Fine. Kiss me, it’s not like we haven’t already.” The room felt tilted at your dare. You couldn’t be serious, but the glint in your eye told Robin you were.

This couldn’t end well. Anyone could have told you that and the both of you would have still gone through with it. You both knew it was different now. You were grown up with no excuses as to why this would happen and yet here the two of you stood playing into the dangerous game. “Okay.” You appeared staggered and Robin smirked at you, flicking your arm. “Like you said, dingus, we already have.” Nodding shyly you stepped up to Robin, toe to toe, you rolled your eyes with a smile. “Alright Buckley, try to woo me.” In any other atmosphere, she would have cackled, instead she lightly grabbed your waist and leaned in. She had waited too long to beat around this anymore.

Lucky for her and you, no one walked in. They continued to avoid the room as Robin kissed you softly. The year or so gone by had certainly made a difference in how her lips knew how to move against yours. Your gasp was swallowed by her, your lips moving slowly. How desperately you wanted to bury your hands in her hair and kiss her till her lips swelled. The thought alone is what snapped you out of your fantasy. As you hastily pulled away Robin sighed and ducked her head. She knew it was coming, she knew it was a dumb decision to fall for her straight best friend. “Did I woo you?” She joked.

“Mhm,” you winked. “Enough for me to take a shot.” It was no more than a joke, but Robin could see how the light in your eyes had dimmed. “What are you doing?” Robin whispered. It hurt her to see you like this. No matter how much you tried to hide she would always find out eventually. She knew it wasn't the first or last time you would do something like this. Melancholy pulled at her heart as she studied you. How long would this last, if it ever stopped? “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m taking a shot.”

Your tone was too cheery for the grim look on your face. “Seriously?” Robin countered. Deep down she knew it was her fault for entertaining the idea. You couldn’t have known she had been in love with you for years. If you had, you would have never joked about kissing her. Logically, she knew it. She just wished it would change and a bit of her wished you would change. “Yes, seriously.” When you looked at her so wearily the anger all but vanished from her. “Do you want a shot or not Robin? It’s fine if you don’t want one, I can drink enough for the both of us.” Robin shook her head, looking away while chewing on her bottom lip.

In an instant, the conversation was over, whatever was happening between you shifted. She walked behind you, out from the home bar, and walked to the three steps to take her back to the main house. “Tell your parents I say hi.” With that, she walked up the steps a little too harshly and left you alone to stare down at the alcohol.

That was one of the last conversations you held before finally, and silently, parting ways. If there was a tragedy hall of fame you swore that moment was etched in it forever. No one knew why you and Robin sat farther apart in classes. Those who knew least of all were your parents. They still spoke to each other frequently, Robin’s distance not taking too much of a toll on their friendships. As expected they spoke about the split, never able to understand what happened. They gathered no information from the pair of you. Neither you nor Robin would speak a negative word about the other.

Now, imagine Steve’s surprise when Robin first told him how you were the girl she was in love with. He was still that shocked about it after knowing for months. It wasn’t hard to see why though. Steve remembered you as the smart popular girl who wouldn’t hesitate to lend a hand to someone in need. Sweet, but not a pushover. Even now he still finds it hard to believe, harder to believe that the two of you kissed. He wasn’t one to judge, no, but you had a boyfriend to his knowledge and Steve was (is) a little…surprised…was all. It’s not every day that your friend is practically in the plot of a movie.

“Okay okay, but you guys kissed, right? Isn’t that enough of a sign that she likes you?” Steve’s pointer finger moved the tab of his beer can around and around across the metal opening. “No it’s not dingus- stop that.” Robin swatted Steve’s hand to stop him from making the terrible screeching noise. “Even if she did, which she didn’t, she wouldn’t like me now. We haven’t held a conversation since what? Graduation?”

“Which was last week.” Steve snorted at Robin’s drama. It wasn’t a wonder that she was a theatre kid. “Still!” She protested and flopped back on the pool chair. Her eyes studied the way the moonlight rippled on the pool’s water reflecting on a time that you would have tugged her along to stare at the night sky. Steve followed her view and sighed if he had to hear one more goddamn time about how you liked the moon. He had no doubt you were a sweet person but one thing Robin didn’t know how to do was shut up, and that factored into how much she spoke about you.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek to think of something. “Look. It’s the week after graduation, there are tons of parties happening right now. How about we go out, find you a nice girl, and get your mind off her.” Before graduation, Robin had truly thought she was over you. Sure, you still sent her a dazzling smile in the halls and she tripped into a trash can once because she swore she saw you check her out, but it was nothing. You didn’t want her and by god, she would force herself to not want you.

That was until she saw you cross the stage at graduation, waving enthusiastically at your friends. Until you cheered the loudest for her when they called her name. It didn’t make sense to others, why one of the star cheerleaders was shrieking happily for the nerdy, band kid, but it didn’t seem to phase you. Nothing did. So it made it hard for Robin to wonder why you still had a boyfriend.

Were you truly not gay? Had her hopes been misplaced? She hadn’t expected you to shout it from the rooftops, but she’d hoped that you would have told her before you two drifted. Or it was possible you liked both guys and girls? However, the thought didn’t seem to make sense with how you talked about boys. Even when you were just beginning to date boys you had mentioned offhandedly that girls were always better than boys.

“Men aren’t supposed to be as pretty as girls so it's okay…I wish they wouldn’t be so gross though.” In her younger mind, it made sense, though years later it didn’t seem to be foolproof. Even when guys were begging you for a date you brushed them off. Then came the unavoidable boyfriend that would stick for a month or two until you broke up and you were single for an extended period again.

Mulling over it Robin groaned and lolled her head to the side. She was tired of being hung up on what-ifs. “Fine. But the moment I’m bored we leave.” Steve clapped his hands, jostling the beer can that now sat in his lap. “There we go, that’s what I’m talking about!” He shot up to high-five Robin only to spill his beer onto his lap. “Ah, shit!” Robin smirked and raised an eyebrow at him. “Might want a change of jeans, Cupid.” “Oh fuck off.”

For a second it fell quiet except for Steve’s mumbled curses as he rubbed at his pants. The ever-growing stain only spread against his wiping. “Jesus, fine, but tomorrow you have to promise you’ll come with me.” Blue eyes rolled to the side and Robin reluctantly nodded. “Promise. Now I’m headed to your guest bedroom if you don’t mind. Don’t go to sleep covered in beer!” She hopped up with a grin and dashed inside. “It’d help if I had a towel! Hello! Hello? …Robin?”

Ignoring him, Robin took two steps at a time up the stairs excited to be tucked in bed. No matter how many times she jokingly complained about the bed in the guest room she always slept better at Steve’s house. He didn’t mind though, the company was nice to fill his empty house. Besides, when Robin remembered to wash the guest sheets Steve could shove his own sheets in her laundry load.

She slammed the door shut and flopped on the bed to stare at the stagnant ceiling fan. One night. One party and it would be fine. You would be far away from her mind. Squeezing her eyes closed, Robin could almost convince herself of it. She rolled over, tucking her hand under her chin not bothering to get into the pajamas she’d left here a million times before.

If she knew what the next night held for her, her restless sleep would have turned into no sleep. At her core Robin was an overthinker.

The next morning was usual and unsuspecting. Burnt eggs made by Steve who threw them out and settled on making coffee. Thankfully this Saturday was free of work shifts, unfortunately, that also meant Steve finding out where the nearest party was happening tonight. Subsequently, it had Steve stressing over what they would wear. Robin swore he cared more about their outfits than she did and she wouldn’t be wrong in the assumption. When it came to putting Robin out there Steve would put blood, sweat, and tears into it.

“It’s a party Steve, not tea with the queen.” Robin spun in a chair at her desk. Shortly after breakfast Steve had shoved her into his BMW and sped to her house. She had sworn up and down that it wasn’t a big deal, but to Steve it was. When he first began being so nice to her she thought it was because she helped him with flirting, then because she saved people from Russians, and then got him a job on top of all of it. To Robin’s pleasant surprise and delight it was because Steve actually enjoyed her company.

Due to his experience, and care for Robin, Steve was determined to make this go well. He knew how nerve-wracking it could be to try and flirt with girls. Trust him, he knew, but he also knew there was another level he wouldn’t understand. All he could do was base things on his experiences and if this was going to go according to plan he was going to make sure Robin looked good.

Steve planted his hands on his hips and twisted towards Robin. “Can you at least try to care? This is for you.” Robin’s lips pursed, moving from side to side before she sighed heavily. She raised a limp hand to point in the direction of a shirt. “Those with my black jeans.” Steve turned and nodded at the garment, pulling it off the hanger and tossing it onto the bed. “Good choice,” he commented, going to rummage for her jeans. “Yeah, well, it was her choice.” Neither of them needed to clarify to know she was talking about you. Steve’s lips pulled into a frown. “Tonight will be good.” He tried to weakly assert. She hoped it would be.

Comparatively to Robin’s morning, yours was soon to be boring. There was no excitement for the millionth party you would be attending and definitely no surprise breakfast to wake up to. If you had known that was even an option your brain would have whisked you away in daydreams to what life could be like. In reality, you woke up far before the sun did, a routine you had formed over the last year. The few hours between you waking up and the sun rising was your safe haven. It was a comfortable silence that permitted you to slow down life and take in your surroundings.

Today you settled for staring at your boyfriend in front of you, studying his facial features. He was by no means ‘ugly’. By all standards he was conventionally attractive, however, you couldn’t bring yourself to yearn for him. The movies had infiltrated your head making you think love should be a whirlwind that swept you off your feet. Weren’t you supposed to burn for him, or at least crave to be in his presence? You couldn’t even bring yourself to come, having to fake your orgasm for him last night like always. You knew his ego would take a huge hit if you admitted this so you stayed silent.

It wasn’t him per se. It also wasn’t you though. You could come but not when you were with a man. It was always too much, not enough, too man-ish. If that made sense, which it didn’t. None of it did. What made it worse was the way your mind constantly wondered. Why did your brain keep drifting back to comparing every fling to Robin? She was gone. You wouldn't be hung up on losing a friend. She was a good example of a strong relationship, platonic sure, but it was something you subconsciously based your romantic relationships on. No one met the expectations though.

You never felt truly thrilled to be with who you were dating. Up until you had to exchange affection you were into it. Don’t get it wrong, you did feel something for who you dated but you weren’t sure what it was. It scared you too much to think about your boyfriend deeply, or any other man you had been with. How you wished he’d somehow feel the shift in the universe that you were now awake and wake up to smile at you like Robin used to.

Perhaps he’d stay up and talk about nothing for hours. None of it had to make sense you wanted it for the connection. Why could he not read your mind or simply go out of his way to do something meaningful for you without you having to ask? You were so tired of not having that connection with men. It became easier for you to find a woman and become close friends instantly! Men made it so hard.

And as if all the planets fell into alignment the breath was punched from your lungs. Fuck. Why now? Why did you suddenly figure it out now? In the end, it made sense, how had you been so blind? Staring at the ceiling you couldn't picture anything else in your head except the women you have loved in your life. Not friends or family, but loved loved. And every scene came back to Robin. You were choking. Maybe not literally, but there was no escape from the realization. Had you always known and simply forced yourself to hide it?

Unable to stop the rushing questions all you could focus on was how you ended up here. You never listened, not even to your own heart. Was this all life would be if you continued down this path? Men who pulled it together enough to have an average life, but never being able to fully love them. Realization after another, you recognized that you didn’t want to be next to a man when you walked down the aisle. You couldn’t. It felt like handing your life over. Ending something that had barely begun.

Looking back at Robert, there was no stopping the jolt of your body. It felt subconscious like it was telling you to run and never look back. From the dreadful feeling weighing you down, you supposed the earth had stopped turning and you could run straight off the edge of it. You wiggled back until you were close enough out from under the covers and stumbled out of bed. You couldn't look at him anymore, prying your eyes away to look at anything else. They scanned his familiar room for what could be the millionth time and you only felt sadness. Would your future home be decorated like this? Mediocre decorations with no touch of what felt like home. Forever compromising on how you wanted to feel.

It had barely registered in your mind that you had left his room, near running down the stairs and out of his house like a hookup who stayed over too late. You didn't know where to go. In another life, you would have legged it to Robin’s house but in this life, your feet carried you towards your home. The home where you had sleepovers in buried hopes that you’d uncover each other's secrets and sleep with legs and arms intertwined, pretending it was a hug. God, it was innocent and you craved to go back. You coveted your younger self for being filled with such innocent love for others. At the same time, you hated how buried your love became, concealed by fear.

Years of your life had passed by without you realizing who you truly were. You silently begged the universe to make it better, whatever that meant. Bare feet hitting the pavement echoed against the looming houses of the neighborhood. What would someone think if they saw you running like hell was on your heels? Would it compare to the shock of what they would hear if they could see into your brain?

It seemed like seconds of running when you made it to your house, but judging by the brightening sky and the burning of your feet it had been much longer. You wanted to go back to the way you had been. It wasn’t shame, or not entirely. It was an odd limbo of wanting so desperately for itself to work out that you’d beg to go back to denying it. What good would that do though? All you could do was take a hot shower and relax before the party. You were still going with Robert, knowing you’d get an earful later for leaving in the middle of the night, but you were incapable of caring at this point.

His loss. Seriously, his loss. Without you dating him you’d feel freer and he would plead for another chance to be a good boyfriend this time. You wanted to piece yourself back together by taking back the power he had unknowingly stolen from you. He was good sometimes, but you didn't deserve ‘sometimes’. Unexpected anger filled you as you closed your front door. Was it better or worse that you had discovered you were a lesbian when dating him instead of a good guy? “Oh honey!” your mother started, catching a glimpse of your expression from the kitchen table. “Did you and Robert fight again?” The familiarity of her thinking you and Robert fought again had your heart plummeting. There was thinly veiled ‘Is Robert mad at you again?’ under her question.

You weakly shook your head. “No ma’am, I'm okay…just tired.” A comforting smile appeared on your mother’s face as she beckoned you over. “Come here, sweetheart.” Compliantly, you walked closer to her and leaned down to feel her hand on your cheek. Something was bothering you, she could see that much. “I’m so proud of you.” Immediately you wanted to spill everything. You wanted her to hold you like you were a little girl again and have her tell you that everything would be okay. Suddenly you became aware that you were mourning the future you were guaranteed from a kid. It was a piece of yourself that you lost, but you were also gaining another piece of yourself. Bittersweet.

You wanted her to love this new part of yourself as much as she loved every other piece of you. She pressed her lips to the crown of her head like she could read your mind. She was trying her best to solve your troubles with how she knew too. “I love you, my sweet baby girl.” Tears stung at the backs of your closing eyes. “I love you,” you wanted to whisper back, instead staying quiet out of fear of what you might admit. She nodded in time with you with a sweet laugh. “Now go clean up and knock them dead.” Your mother looked up from where she sat and winked at you as you went round the corner. “Those boys won’t know what hit them!”

But they were never who you wanted. How could you tell someone that when they’ve known you as a different person your whole life? You knew your mom wouldn't hesitate to die for you, that’s what you chose to hang onto as you headed for the shower you hoped would wash away your anxiety. She still loved you. Unbeknownst to you, she would never jeopardize that love. You were her child forever.

The shower had washed away some of your stress of the day, renewing you to a point that you could go out. That’s how you found yourself working your pants over your hips, doing little hops to slide the denim on. After the small workout, you huffed and threw things out of your closet to get a shirt. By the time a tornado looked like it had passed through your room, you resorted to digging through your basket of clean clothes, grabbing a cropped jersey Robert had given you. A thought nagged the back of your brain saying not to wear it because it was his, but you threw it on anyway. It was cute and would fit the vibe of the party.

It was a simple outfit but there was no way you were trying to woo anybody tonight. Hopefully, it would ward people off from talking to you. You didn't even want to woo Robert. A thought for a later date. Checking your alarm clock you realized it was an hour till the party with no sign of Robert. Your gut yelled at you to call him. Fuck you wished you didn’t have to. What if you walked? In that case, he could show up and wonder why you ignored him, or he could try to pick you up after you had already left the house. It left too many questions without answers.

Regrettably, calling him was the best option for transportation. You were not in a family who could spare your unlicensed person driving their car around. Stepping out of your bedroom you were met with silence. The house was empty aside from you padding to the landline in the kitchen. A note was left on the refrigerator reminding you of your parents' date night. Nerves nipped at you as you swiped your sweaty palms down your thighs and forced yourself to dial his number.

One, two, three, four rings later, “Hello?” Your teeth sink into the tip of your thumbnail. Yup, he sounded mad. “Hey, Rob!” You tried to chirp, voice unnaturally high. “Oh, are you talking to me now?” “What? I thought we were going to the party tonight…aren’t you coming to get me?” Robert being mad at you was a more than common occurrence. This was one of the more uncommon times when you had done something. “I thought you were mad at me.” he deadpanned, “No note. No warning. You were gone. What was I supposed to think? It’s embarrassing! Do you know how embarrassing that is?” He pressed on.

You fought off a sigh in response, trying to muster up a kinder retort. “I’m sorry Rob, seriously. I’ll make it up to you at the party. …I promise.” he sighed heavily, voice becoming soft again. “I don't think I can drive somebody who acts like that. Will I see you there?” Great. Great, great, great. Robert clicked his tongue sympathetically, acting as if it hurt him as much as he expected it to hurt you.

You didn’t dare ask if he was driving you again. “Yeah. See you then, I guess.” Dejection was far from your tone yet Robert failed to take a hint. “I’m sorry.” His apology fell flat. You couldn't bring yourself to be upset at his roundabout breakup. The dial tone answered him as you slammed the phone back on the receiver.

So much for having a ride.

Figuring out a last-minute ride should not have been as difficult as it was. Apparently, when you drop off the face of the earth for a few days after graduation everyone thinks you’ve left them to die. Thankfully Tina had her convertible detailed on Wednesday and was more than happy to show it off. A little sucking up and a vague explanation later you had a brand new ride who was trying to get you to shove it in Robert’s face that you didn’t need him. And what better way to do that than driving you to the party?

Initially, you didn’t intend to get this far into things. Maybe a small catch-up chat and a shot to appease her, but it seemed Tina’s personal mission was to get you hammered. It was all she talked about on the drive over. The cool night air hit your skin as you stepped out of Tina's convertible, the engine purring below you. Music and laughter were already spilling out from the open windows. Tina looped her arm through yours, “Come on, let's show that loser Robert what he's missing!”

You smiled back at her, allowing yourself to be swept up by her. “Lead the way,” you replied, playing along. The two of you pushed through the people congregating on the front lawn. Tina's grip on your arm tightened as she guided you through the chaos, her eyes alight with a determined gleam. “There’s the keg over there!” Tina exclaimed and pointed towards the driveway.

“That sounds amazing, Tina,” you spoke, raising your voice above the chaos. “Just give me a moment? I'm going to...powder my nose.” You punctuated your statement with a conspiratorial wink, knowing full well that Tina assumed you had somebody to go meet up with. Tina giggled and winked back, “Hurry up then! Don’t keep him waiting!” She waved and happily drifted towards some girls she recognized by the keg, leaving you to navigate your way.

Dodging a stumbling partygoer who barreled past you and out the front door, you twisted around and made your way backward into the living room. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and drinks, a stereo somewhere playing loud music reverberating through the floorboards as bodies danced where a coffee table once stood. A part of you couldn't help but scan the crowd, a lingering instinct to locate Robert. You rolled your jaw, determined to stomp out that fleeting desire.

Your gaze drifted towards the kitchen, and you figured a quick detour for refreshments was in order. Unaware of prying eyes, you hugged the wall, slipping into the relative sanctuary of the kitchen. Finally, a moment to catch your breath and collect your thoughts amidst the chaotic revelry. A familiar face was standing in the kitchen, but they were no one there that you knew well enough. Nowhere near the level of recognition you held for the person who was watching you back.

Robin’s eyes stayed trained on you, having seen you the moment you had walked through the front door. Technically since someone pushed past you to get outside. She was sitting on a pushed-back couch with Steve. Normally he would find somebody to flirt with, yet here he sat debating who would be fit for Robin. His whispers fell on deaf ears, rubbing his chin with one hand. “I swear she’s not straight. Did you know she used to…” Robin’s harsh whisper drowned out the rest of his sentence, “Steve.” His brown eyes flicked to her. “Shit was that bad to say?”

“Steve.” Steve finally took the suggestion and looked up to see you. His eyes widened while he watched you open a bottle and pour some liquid into the cup. Robin’s surprise came at the fact that you weren’t hanging over Robert. That wasn’t completely the jealousy talking. If you showed up at a party you tended to stay by his side the whole time. Whether it was to keep other men away from you or because you liked Robert that much, it also kept Robin at bay from thinking of trying to talk to you. Here you were now, looking unfocused, almost worried before chugging the alcohol.

“You should talk to her.” Steve started. He saw the look in Robin’s eye knowing there was no way around it. “What!? No! Steve, that goes against everything we’re doing tonight!” He knew that more than anyone else, of course, he did. There was no reason for Robin to go back on her word, other than the fact that she was obviously in love with you.

“Look, one conversation. Then you’ll know for sure that you can move on.” Steve reached over, shaking Robin’s shoulder softly to encourage her towards you. “Never know if you don’t try.” Swallowing her fear, Robin admonished Steve. “Remind me to never listen to you ever again dingus. No more plan-making for you.” “And yet you’re walking towards her.” Robin rolled her eyes, walking backward to you.

Once Robin deemed she was almost close enough she turned around to see your spot in the kitchen empty. Her baby blues scanned the house, spotting you heading to the backyard. After seeing you just out of reach she knew she had to speak to you for better or for worse. Robin sped up, pushing through to get to the back door. She could see your rapidly disappearing frame, focusing on how you moved. The wood creaked on the hinges, shutting in front of her face. Being so close to you she suddenly couldn’t bring herself to open the door.

She was being dumb, she knew it. It was one conversation. What harm could it do? Pacing in front of the door Robin barely had enough time to jump out of the way when it swung open. “Shit- sorry!” She called out, stumbling backward out the door. If anything it was the stranger's fault for slamming the door open, that’s what you thought at least. “Robin?”

Time instantly slowed as your quiet voice called her name. She slowly turned towards you, her movements making it seem like she was in doubt if this were truly happening. An awkward smile tugged at the corner of her lips when she caught sight of you sitting on the edge of the porch. The porch light basked you in its soft glow, contrasting the bright moonlight that hit the yard. “Hey..didn't uh see you there,” she offered hesitantly. Robin knew you would be out here, but actually speaking to you made it seem way more real.

“Oh, I thought you were following me.” Robin’s face fell at the blunt statement, her composed facade cracking. “Huh!?” She squawked, the sound escaping her before she could stop it. Her eyes snapped to your face to search it, honing in on the cigarette you pressed to your lips. Not responding right away, a charged silence blanketed you. The only reprieve was the clicking of your lighter that pierced the air, flame roaring to life to light the smoke.

If this was to be the last time she spent in your company, Robin didn't want it to end like that. With a determined set to her jaw, she moved to plop down onto the edge of the porch beside you, swinging her legs over the side inelegantly. You wordlessly tilted your head back, exhaling your smoke away from her, a small gesture that did not go unnoticed. “I didn't know you smoked,” Robin ventured, her gaze transfixed by the way your lips wrapped around the cigarette, pursing and parting with each inhale and exhale.

“Oh yeah, new habit I guess,” you replied nonchalantly, as if the habit were no more remarkable than a new hairstyle. Robin nodded, her eyes trailing over you with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “Are you-” she began, only to be cut off as you simultaneously attempted to speak. “Do you think-” Your voices overlapped, the words tangling together in a mess. Robin felt her cheeks warm.

“You can go first,” you mumbled, ducking your head in an effort to hide the amused smile that threatened to spread across your features. “Um…” Robin nodded, turning her gaze forward once more as she gathered her thoughts. “What are you doing here without...?” Her voice trailed off as she realized, with discomfort, that she had completely forgotten the name of your boyfriend. She had heard it mentioned once, she was certain, but the name eluded her. It started with an R, didn't it? “Robert,” you filled the gap for her. “Yeah, him!”

You winced visibly at the mention of his name. Lifting a hand to scratch the back of your neck, the cigarette dangling precariously from your taught lips, you hesitated for a moment. “You don't have to answer if you don't want to,” Robin added quickly, noticing you were weighing your words. “No, it's fine,” you assured her, waving off her concern. “We're on a break, I guess? He's pissed at something I did this morning.”

Robin sat up straighter, her curiosity piqued by your cryptic confession. “Oh shit. What'd you do?” Plucking the cigarette from your lips, you took a deep breath of clean air. “I sort of ditched him before he woke up. Ran out of his house... the whole shebang.” As the words left your mouth, you couldn't help but realize how callous they sounded. Robin, however, seemed unfazed by the revelation, barking out a laugh that seemed to echo in the quiet night.

“What!? Why?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with disbelief and amusement. “So many questions,” you teased, unable to resist the urge to deflect, if only momentarily. Robin shook her head, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her lips. It was a known fact that she often pressed for more information. You gave a resigned shrug, not knowing why you found yourself spilling your guts to your old friend who you had barely shared a conversation with in over a year. There was something about her presence, something undeniably safe, that compelled you to open up in a way you hadn't with anyone else.

“Guess I realized something.” Robin knew better than to interrupt now, well versed with the pause you gave before fully voicing the thoughts on your mind. “I don't think he's the one," you admitted at last. Something about the need for clarity had you stubbing your cigarette out. Robin sucked in a sharp breath, her expression one of sympathy. “If it helps, I don't think anyone meets 'the one' in high school,” she spoke matter-of-factly as if stating an indisputable truth. “Plus, that's a dumb reason for him to break up with you.”

“Maybe,” you muttered in response, your voice laced with a heaviness that suggested there was more to the story. “For what it's worth, I'm sorry,” Robin continued, her words laden with sincerity. “You deserve better than that.” She knew you did. You deserved better than all the shitty boyfriends you had put up with. Turning to face her fully, you met her gaze with a look of self-doubt. “Don't know if I do. I kind of fucked up, big time.”

The guilt of having dated and potentially hurt a string of boys while unaware that you were unable to love them formed a lump in your throat. You had only just come to terms with the fact that you might have been a lesbian earlier that morning, but hadn't there been signs all along? Little hints you had chosen to ignore in favor of conforming to societal expectations? You truly did empathize with their feelings, holding the weight of your actions on your shoulders.

“Good people fuck up sometimes,” Robin stated effortlessly. The resolution she offered was so simple. “We're still young, we're going to make mistakes,” she continued. And you would. None of it had been malicious. Of course, Robin would be the one able to slow down your racing mind. You couldn't help but marvel at the depth of her understanding and how she cut through the tangled web of your thoughts with such ease.

“When did you become so wise?” You quipped. “I always have been,” Robin shot back with a sly smile. “You were just too busy being charmed by me to realize.” For a heartbeat, Robin froze, uncertain whether her joke had landed or if she had overstepped a boundary. Then your laughter met her ears, shattering her worry. “Hm. makes sense,” you conceded.

Robin sighed out in relief, your head tilting to rest on her shoulder. She slowly met your head with her own, leaning on top of yours. In the dim lighting, you looked at her feet swinging side by side with yours. Studying the familiar scribbles on her shoes made you feel so comforted. This was just Robin, sweet Robin who held your hands when you were scared to make leaps of faith. A leap of faith. That’s all it was.

“I guess I’m interested in other people.” Robin’s eyebrows furrowed curiously. Taking the moment you confessed before doubt could creep up your spine. “I don't think men are the ones for me.” All the oxygen exited Robin's lungs, however, she clamped her mouth shut, trying to remain cool. “I don’t think they are for me either.” She responded faintly.

“Right? I get it, I do, I mean not really but..” you rambled on, taking a note from Robin’s book. “I feel bad because I dated so many guys. I can’t imagine how they felt when I couldn't give them what they needed.” Robin scoffed in return. “Please, they sucked. They were practically sewer monsters! They’ll get over it,” Robin stated resolutely. You didn’t need to be hung up on boys like that. You laughed at her claim. “Yeah, they're gross.” You agreed.

Talking to her again you realized how easy it was and how much you missed this. “I’m so tired of having to like what they like, do what they do, live in their world!” You huffed and glared up at the sky for an answer to your troubles. “I'm proud of you.” Robin blurted out to your surprise. “You’re proud of me?”

Robin didn’t say many things that shocked you into a stupor anymore, but that was certainly one of them. “Yeah. You’ve kind of become super confident.” “Not at all. I’m still scared,” you exhaled regretfully at your admission. “You can be scared and still be self-assured. You’re like..on the right path, you know?” You blinked in amazement at her awareness. “Robin you are fucking amazing.” At your compliment, it was now her turn to be taken aback. “Oh- thank you.” She coughed with wide eyes.

The connection both of you tried to shove down for so long sparked the moment your eyes locked. In that instant, the world faded away, neither of you caring that anyone could peer through the backdoor. As you gazed into her eyes, it felt as if her soul was laid bare in front of you. “Can I?” you asked, voice filled with longing. “Please,” she responded. With her confirmation, both of you moved forward eagerly, lips colliding. However, a second later a pang of pain quickly interrupted the blissful encounter, causing you both to recoil.

“Ow!” Robin hissed, pressing her hand to her mouth, her inner lips inadvertently having met her teeth. “Oh shit!” you exclaimed, scrambling onto your knees to be closer to her. Gently, you removed her hand, anxiously inspecting her. “I am so sorry. Are you bleeding?”

Your eyes snapped to Robin’s when she failed to respond. Her hand slid across your cheek much like it had the first time years ago. Hiccuped giggles fell from her lips when she edged closer to you. Taking the hint, you followed suit to gently press your lips together. This is what you were looking for. You understood why you had looked for her in other people for so long. You yearned for her.

Robin’s fingers trailed along your skin leaving tingles in their wake. Her hands slowly slid down, one coming to rest on the small of your back with the other holding onto your waist. She was desperate to eliminate any distance between your bodies, pulling you towards her like you were her lifeline. When the need for oxygen became too great to ignore, Robin reluctantly parted from your lips. A soft “Woah” escaped her in a breathless whisper.

“Uh huh, woah,” you mumbled in agreement, blinking as you emerged from your trance. As your senses slowly returned, you turned to face each other, eyes meeting in a shared look of awe. The tension that had been building between you both for so long had finally been released, and the intensity of it left you both giddy with exhilaration. Unable to contain yourselves any longer, you burst into unrestrained laughter, echoing the pure joy you felt in that moment.

“Holy shit!” you exclaimed happily. Without a plan or a second thought, you jumped up and grabbed Robin's hand, pulling her up with you. “Let's go,” you said, the words tumbling out in your excitement. Robin's eyes widened at your sudden burst of energy. “What?” she asked. Despite her question she gratefully let you help her up and tug her towards the stairs. “Let's ditch!” you clarified. Robin took one look at the gleam in your eyes and she nodded rapidly, a matching grin spreading across her face as she raced down the stairs with you.

Her grip on your hand tethered you to her as she rounded the corner of the house at a breakneck pace. You stumbled after her, laughing breathlessly, the two of you surely a sight to behold. Anyone would take a look at the two of you and assume you were drunk.

As you burst into the front yard, Steve caught sight of you while he stood on the lawn. His expression grew into one of bemusement as he watched the two of you race past. He beamed at you both, your laughter infectious as you ran down the neighborhood street with no destination in mind. You were in love and it was pure.

Steve placed his hands on his hips, chest bursting with pride. As he watched you disappear he turned back to the shorter figure in front of him. His once soft eyes now held a glint and a not-so-innocent smile. “You’re Robert? Right?”

taglist: @andvys

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semischarmed · 9 months

Text

Demonizer

Hope you’re not religious…

———

Parker Mills here sure was. The cross, dutifully hanging on his neck in every other post. The obligatory bible passage quoted on the profile. A “#believer” given every other caption. The works. By all accounts, religion had been good for him. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy. Friendly to all, despite the evangelizing. Virgin too- saving for marriage, of course. His parents on the other hand were vile fucks. The Mills often terrorized our small town’s tiny lgbt community but by some stroke of divine luck, the son of those demons turned out completely normal. Better than normal. Parker was probably the nicest jock in town. Parker also turned me the fuck on. With Parker, I just knew. Just knew that those kind blue eyes and gentle smile adorned that angelic face and ripped body. Knew that with his family’s wealth and that face, he had the makings of the town menace. Knew that despite all this, he was entirely clueless on his appeal and unwilling to share his god-given gifts. Many have tried to corrupt poor Parker, but the man was a saint. He even looked uncomfortable doing anything beyond a quick peck on the lips. I just knew I could make him my own cocky motherfucker.

There were a handful of options in the dark web. Entirely different avenues ranging from a neurosurgeon offering direct transplant to a ritual for astral projection. It took 1 month just to sift through all the possibilities and options. Each one felt messy or required some form of constant maintenance. They wouldn’t do. I wanted Parker permanently. All of him-body, mind and soul. At last I had landed on the Demonizer Potion. The effects seemed to vary drastically, though they all seemed to warn of its corruptive properties. In the end, I chose it because it filled the most important niche for these products for me- I could actually afford it.

Finding a witch to procure this particular potion was… surprisingly easier than expected. In fact, it was downright effortless. Miranda, a witch just a town over, scoffed when I mentioned it to her. “A girl’s gotta pay her bills. Besides, It’s a lot easier and a lot cheaper to hide out here than it is in the big city.”

And that was that. For the “low-low price of $500”, I had the demonizer potion in hand. The drink was pitch-black. Darker than black even. And it seemed to pull all warmth from the room in an otherworldly, sinking feeling. I had no doubt this thing was the real deal. I read the instructions: “Drink with your intent.“ I imagined mine.

- - -

I knew the perfect time to strike. It felt oddly fitting to take him during a service. In the church’s bathroom, I took a quick swig of my future. Just a third of the black substance. I gagged as I felt it stream down my throat. And I winced, expecting a burning sensation. No-not a burning sensation. It was more like a pit of nothingness spreading throughout my body to my fingertips. The burning came after. All at once, the world around me spun as I felt my body leave physical manifestation. I watched as my spectral hands flashed white then black in a pulsating pattern, before finally settling on a grey.

Parker Mills sat, listening attentively. They seemed to be playing some religious music. My only religion sat right in front of me. In devilish glee I began to stream into him. Inch by Inch, I flooded into his thick dick. He made a small grunt at first insertion.

Parker shifted in his seat as the worship choir continued singing. His face grew red as he tried to hide a growing boner. The worship singing droned and I felt a sharp pain in my head. As if empowered, Parker’s own soul began to push me out.

In the end, I only managed to slip a bit of the grey essence into him. It did not seem to have much effect, aside from giving him an inexplicable need to grab the flask from the bathroom floor. I tried to make a mental note of that.

I sighed, defeated, as I fled into the night. In the darkness, I recuperated as I planned my next visit.

- - -

This time, there would be no fanfare. No choir to welcome our joining and my rebirth. I wasn’t sure how long I could stay in this world without his warm flesh tethering me mortal, so I knew I had to get in him fast.

I followed the man to his apartment, sitting patiently in a dark corner of his bedroom as he went about his day.

When he was close to sleeping, he turned off the light and sat on his bed in a meditative tone. I watched in anticipation as he closed his eyes and began to pray. “Lord, ple-“

“Mmhhmph!” I struck the man a snake, prying his full lips open and forcing his body to gorge itself with me.

This time, no music. Just the sounds of a teary-eyed Parker choking on invisible mass. Drool ran down his cheeks as I inched more and more of my form inside. His neck bulged and eyes grew wide and bloodshot as he tried badly to reject the intrusion. Lubricated by Parker’s own saliva, by the taste of Parker, I greedily dug into his insides.

Parker’s body began to move involuntarily. Deep in violation, it tried in vain to get me out. He smashed his head over and over again across the apartment wall trying to shake me out. I only forced myself inside harder. His head shook as it contorted in odd angles. Biceps started scratching at his own throat, trying to get me out to no avail. Eventually, they were forced splayed open as Parker’s body began to travel up the apartment wall. At first, his legs began to kick, then shake, then they begun to dangle ominously off the ground. In a perverted facsimile of his religion, I strung Parker up his own apartment wall, arms outstretched in a blasphemous pose as if to welcome me. “All are welcome..no, I am welcome,” I thought to myself. I continued my assault.

As Parker screamed, I weaved through each crevice until I could find the core of his soul. It looked pure and white, aside from the small speck of gray in my earlier intrusion. Gingerly, I pried the soul’s own mouth open as I laughed. I wanted Parker to his depths. Parker to his very core. And so I burrowed and coiled. Shackled myself to it. Shackled him to me. Like a trap jaw, his soul’s mouth closed. Forever sealing me in nice and tight as I continued squirm and fill into Parker. His spirit was mine. It bent in odd and unnatural angles, contorting until it tore. Outside, I felt Parker’s thrashing head slow into a twitching.

I wanted-no needed every part of Parker to myself. So I begun to fill into the tears of his ravaged soul. I then felt the the fibers of those tears heal- with me embedded. Euphoric. Stillness.

Parker’s pale blue eyes shot wide open, dilated. “P-Please,” he whimpered, before they go glassy and a smile began to form on his lips. Parker’s flesh collapsed into a pile on the floor, body, mind, and soul spent.

- - -

My first breath as Parker felt out of this world. Parker’s body was his temple after all. When I felt his lungs fill for me, and air flow into us for the first time, I felt the power in his drawn breath- Like having an athlete’s lungs chained to my whims. I felt our drawn air circulate inside me, tickling bits of me in drunken pleasure. Granted, I was not that unhealthy in my previous flesh, but this new home was unreal. Merely existing in his flesh felt like an unburdening. Energy brimmed from fingertip to fingertip and my mind raced with a clarity I did not know possible.

“I can’t believe you just feel like all the time” I teased as I twirled my new perfect hairs. I couldn’t help but giggle in my new perfect voice. Hearing it vibrate into a low moan was music to my ears, as the man’s hand travelled and cupped his own perky ass. “Fuck,” I panted breathlessly as I massaged my new right asscheek. The Jock’s face twitches in vain retaliation. “Fuck you feel so good…” I twisted his nipple. “Thank you for saving yourself for me.” Hearing and feeling this Parker, a Parker the world has never seen- A Parker he himself had never seen, drove me mad with lust. This was a private Parker, my Parker, one bound to me for my personal enjoyment. A moment exclusive to us. This seemed to light a fire in the original Parker and I felt my soul shiver as his encapsulated mine. “g…g-get the fuck out of me!” He spat.

With newfound agency, the original Parker ran to his desk and managed just one action before I could wrestle back control.

I gulped. My shaking hand dropped the empty flask as I felt his intent hung around me like a death sentence. “Cast this demon out of me”.

Control over my perfect meat-suit went dark. Like a barrier emanating from within, I felt myself squeezed out of my home. Then falling. Falling for an unbelievable amount of time. I blacked out.

- - -

I awoke with the smell of sulfur in the air, the sky was dark and glowed a faint orange. I stood as I surveyed my surroundings, horrified. I saw a sea of bodies writhing and groaning.

“Is this..?” I couldn’t bring myself to finish that sentence. I closed my eyes as I thought of the potion and the life I gave all to come to this. I didn’t even have a chance to play with my new body. A sensation stopped my racing mind abruptly.

It was a hand.

One of the bodies on the floor moaned as it spoke in velvet. “Are you joining or what?” I shook it off me as the realization slowly dawned on me. It wasn’t groaning… it was moaning. They were not damned. At least, they were certainly not upset about it.

Then I felt something else stir inside me. Hope? No- At least, not my hope. I grinned as I realized what had occurred. I took note of my spirit- a spirit that was a part of Parker’s. Partially superimposed. Partially one. We were bonded together, even as souls. When his sleeping soul came to, I felt that hope of his immediately vanish. He grabbed our merged face in horror, before looking around.

“B-but, I never did anything… I was perfect…” Parker trailed. I felt a blackness pour out of me. That’s it? Is that all there was to being a demon? These people were not suffering in the slightest. If anything, this was something to look forward to. This time, I felt no resistance from Parker as our shared soul began to fondle itself. Our face, however, was stone cold. Parker was in control.

Feeling all that he had to look forward to, something shattered in him. I felt as much- Rage. Betrayal. Then, Liberation. He looked up into the sky with a sneer and hands outstretched. “This what you wanted, asshole? I do everything right and you still put me here? How much time did I waste in those stupid lectures? How many people did we turn down?” I immediately felt the pieces of this new Parker worm into my psyche. “Fine”. He said with a broken satisfaction.

Like a root, he spread throughout me. Bonding each of us tighter and tighter. This time, I felt a natural cockiness exude from Parker, and by extension me. It felt wrong, coming from Parker. At the same time, a part of me felt like this truly was Parker. This time, the disillusioned man continued fondling himself on his own volition. He brought me into the fold, guiding my movements. “Bro…” . I felt mind mind dull in euphoria. “Bro….”. It rolled off our tongue lazily. Something about it just felt natural. “Parker, if you don’t stop… we’ll”. His mouth opened in a wide smile as he gave both pecs a squeeze. “I know. Enjoy the ride bro”. All at once the pieces of Parker rooted into brimmed with energy. “Fuck it, right? You should be thanking me for this… My body is my temple… and I’m letting you live in it. Thanking me is the least you could do.” Searing pain hit us both. Despite all this, he retained a crazed expression as he kept defiling his own soul. Bit after bit, I felt him kneed soul into mine. Though terrified, I couldn’t help but soften. This was truly a side of Parker I had never seen. Here he was, tainting himself- tainting us both- locking us to eternal damnation. Into one being. And he laughed while doing it. I could feel it in his depths. A raw aggression. A depraved, sexual hunger in him. One that swallowed me infinitesimally. One that strung me up inside him, fed me pieces of himself. Fed me too much of himself. Fed me to him. My head was spinning as the lines between us blurred even further. This new Parker coursed through me as he guided me to finish the job. Let’s sin in this temple together. The last, innocent piece of the original Parker spurted out of our soul in a torrent of spectral cum. We could see the weightlessness of it. We watched as it floated up to the dark sky. This remnant of the original Parker-the original me, would be mine. I drew the land into me, felt empowered by the flames as I jetted up. In unbelievable pace we ascended back to the living world.

- - -

Final bits of soul continued to ascend but with a swift, dark grip, we grabbed it and jammed it into our body’s chest. I watched my meat shudder at the feeling. It breathed into life, but remained unconscious. Our soul now brimming black, I caressed my perfected form in satisfaction. We were Parker. And we needed every bit of ourselves to be whole. On that note, I jammed our dick right into the Parker Meat body’s chest and watched as it shuddered. Caressing the face now wholly mine, I jammed our dick in again and again, reveling in the body’s shaking. I watched it claw into the floor, legs kicking and flaying in some automatic attempt to keep its own soul out. I only continued with faster and faster pace, grunting in his manly tone until finally-release. The invisible barrier around flesh punctured and I willed my spirit to pump bit after bit of myself into the small orifice. The Parker body only made gurgling noises as I streamed inside. Once all of me was finally home, I felt my flesh begin to enclose me and laughed as I felt the barrier reforge- only with me inside it this time. I made quick work of the last piece of the original Parker’s soul. Staining it black and integrating it into myself.

Tears now flowed freely down Parker’s flush cheeks. His hands caressed his thick biceps in gratification. We were finally complete.

I moaned as I felt myself overcome a familiar sensation that my old body often experienced. However, this sensation was entirely foreign to this Parker-flavored bod. Electricity coursed inside me, and moans turned into screams as shook back and forth in a downright religious experience. My back arched in violent delight and I felt the lights go out from my new pale, blue eyes. Parker’s first cum- our first cum together- absolute pleasure. My jaw slacked and drool began to escape as I was still reeling from the sensation.

Mess. I sat there panting for a second, chest and stomach soaked and coated in our liberation. I scooped a bit of the white and stared at it in my hand, watching this body’s own seed violently shudder and contort unnaturally before phasing into a dark mist. In demented glee, I felt the mist like an extension of myself and began feeding it into the rest of the untouched cum still outlining my abs. I licked my lips in savage pleasure as I watched as the rest of it slowly turn dark and soon felt it also under my control. Exquisite. I sent the small package of myself into the air, flying towards one of my teammates. Just a small piece to convince him to submit himself to Parker’s temple.

I couldn’t wait to show the town our new self. We are Parker. And all are welcome to worship at this temple. “Let us pray”.

- - -

Now, have you accepted Parker as your personal lord and savior?

#male possession #male body control #male merge #male takeover #malepossession #soul possession #male corruption

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ecoterrorist-katara · 1 month

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i have always wondered what happened behind the scenes between the show and and the comics. in the show, while s3 definitely relegated her to trophy for the main character to win in the end, she still was competent and her own person. the comics though? the writers actively hated her and it always felt like a very personal 'fuck you' from the writers to the (female) katara fans. there is such a huge difference in how they treated her, it still breaks my heart. she deserved so much better.

I think it’s telling that so many Katara fans take her post-ATLA lobotomy arc very personally. So many young girls loved her, looked up to her, saw her as the epitome of Girl Power TM because when ATLA was airing, that was the pinnacle of pop culture feminism. And that’s great, honestly, because she’s an amazing role model.

Let’s not forget that ATLA, despite its all-ages appeal, is a franchise for children. Unlike adult media, children’s media should have morals, and role models, and aspirational narratives. Katara is more than a fictional character: she’s a fictional character carrying the burden of not only representation, but aspiration. We want girls to look up to Katara and relate to her and put themselves in her shoes (and that’s why I never got the “self insert” argument wrt Zutara — if girls relate enough to Katara that they want to be like her, and shipping Zutara is a manifestation of that, how is that a problem?). We want girls to stand up for what’s right, to be brave, to embrace their own power and their agency. Which is what happened in most of the original ATLA, like you said.

and that’s why Katara’s later arc is such a slap in the face, because here’s a fictional character that so many girls looked up to…and now the narrative is going to relegate her to, what, a girl who follows her bf around and never does anything of note? A woman whose biggest contributions to the world happened when she was fourteen? A woman who begins to inexplicably take the backseat, again and again, whether it’s supporting her friends or maintaining world peace or even just making sure some groupies don’t hit on her boyfriend?

To be clear, I don’t give a fuck about the “what about the children!!!!” argument for most media, because most of it is just pearl clutching and purity politics, but children’s media is the one place where actually, you should ask, what message are we sending to the children? And apparently the answer here is “fuck you girls, no matter how accomplished and cool you were, you get married and have children and never do anything of note again. Leading a country? Saving people? Forget about it!”

#katara deserved better #anti bryke #can i ask you a question?#zutara #my meta

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eksvaized · 3 months

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Part Two [ Previous 〡 Next ]

Ever since the day you stole a cigarette from Ghost, you’ve unwittingly picked up a bad habit. The notion of smoking had never been appealing to you before. Still, there was something about the atmosphere of that one particular night that seemed to have permanently etched itself into your memory…

The morning after your outing with the team, you ran into Ghost again. He was casually propped against the hard surface of the gym wall, his robust form still radiating warmth from the exertion of his recently finished workout. A lit cigarette hung nonchalantly from his smirking lips, the tendrils of smoke gracefully dancing around his face. When he teasingly asked if you wanted one, you found yourself unable to decline.

Part of you was curious - you wanted to give it another try, to see if perhaps, now that you were sober, you might find a different kind of enjoyment in smoking. But the larger part of you, the one you were trying not to acknowledge, found itself mesmerized by Ghost. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him. He was clad in a tight shirt that accentuated his chiseled physique and left very little to the imagination. Any excuse to linger in his presence, even if only for a few fleeting moments, was one you were willing to take. Regardless of the fact that your conversation amounted to no more than a handful of words exchanged between puffs of smoke.

Ghost, for his part, seemed to savour these quiet interludes as well. He was the one who kept offering the cigarettes, after all. In an inexplicably compelling way, he seemed to relish the idea that you were permitting him to lead you astray, to corrupt you in some small way—your innocence was being chipped away with each puff.

Often he made a show of it, too, holding onto the cigarette a little too tightly, forcing you to grasp his wrist in order to pry it from his fingers. His attention would then shift to your lips, watching as they closed around the small, white cylinder. His imagination would run wild, conjuring up images of how you might look on your knees, those soft, plump lips of yours wrapped around him, his fingers tangled in your hair. He would observe you inhaling. His gaze never wavering, never making any attempt to disguise his interest as his eyes would trail down to your chest, watching as it rose and fell rhythmically with each exhalation.

Captivated by the labyrinth of his own thoughts and entranced in his own fantasies, it took him a long time to see that you were utterly perplexed and inexperienced in the art of smoking.

“Are you even inhaling the smoke? ‘Cos from where I am, I’m pretty sure you’re just holding it in your mouth,” Ghost said, arching his brows up.

Your cheeks flushed a rosy hue, the cigarette still delicately positioned between your fingers. The two of you found yourselves comfortably seated on the stone-cold steps, at a distance from the bustle of others. He shifted closer to you, his hand reaching out and extricating the burning cigarette from your grasp.

“Hey, it’s still my turn,” you protested lightly, playfully bumping him with your shoulder.

“If you want to smoke, at least let me show you the proper way to do it,” Ghost replied, rolling his eyes. His index fingers hooked under your chin, and he titled your head, making you look at him. Then he placed the cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply, holding the smoke within the confines of his lungs for a moment before turning his head to the side and exhaling.

He passed the cigarette back to you, but didn’t scoot back. You tried to replicate his actions, only to be met with a harsh cough and a burning sensation in your lungs, as if you’d swallowed a piece of hot coal. After calming yourself, you attempted it once more, managing slightly better, but the cough surfaced again, forcing you to slump down and instinctively grab Ghost’s thigh.

His gaze darted to his leg and then to your hand, observing your fingers as they clung onto his thigh, holding onto the fabric of his pants. A fleeting desire, swift and sharp as a shooting star, pierced through him, urging him to guide your hand just a tad higher. However, before his thoughts could spiral any further, the sound of your voice brought him back from the precipice of his fantasies.

“Okay, fine. You were right. I wasn’t inhaling it into my lungs,” you admitted, a hint of defeat in your tone.

Upon realizing where your hand had instinctively landed, you moved it away. You made a conscious effort not to look down at it as you slowly retracted your palm back to your lap, trying to feign nonchalance, as if your fingers hadn’t been digging into his flesh just moments ago.

“Seems I’ve been casting my cigarettes into the wind for nearly a week,” he teased. “If you wanted to hang out with me, you could have just told me so instead of wasting my smokes.” His tone was playful, yet it held an undercurrent of curiosity.

Suddenly, your conversation halted, as if the universe itself held its breath. An ocean of silence drowned both of you, and your eyes locked onto each other. You blinked. The intensity of his gaze was like the sun, forcing you to look away. Your attention was drawn to his lips. You had grown so accustomed to seeing him masked that every time he unveiled even a small portion of his face; you found yourself unable to look away.

With a heart pounding like a drummer's rhythm, you could hear the rush of blood in your ears as you realized you wanted to kiss him.

Reluctantly, you lifted your gaze, as if breaking the surface of a deep, tranquil pond. Your eyes met Ghost’s penetrating stare, his eyes as unfathomable and enticing as a midnight abyss. You found yourself drawn into their depths, searching for something within them - a subtle signal, perhaps - that what you were experiencing wasn’t merely a one-sided infatuation. That he, too, wanted to taste your lips as much as you wished to devour his.

The tension between you was escalating rapidly, like a flame licking the edge of a dry parchment. The silence that hung in the air was turning unbearable, yet neither of you dared to break it. Ghost, in his characteristic obstinacy, chose to overlook the way your eyes lingered on him. He stubbornly dismissed the evident signs of your affection, letting the silent showdown between you two stretch on for an uncomfortably long duration, much like an unending, eerie echo in a hollow cavern.

Summoning all your courage, you took a deep breath. If Ghost wasn’t going to seize the opportunity and make the first move, then you resolved to take the initiative. As you started leaning in, carefully and slowly, wanting to savour this electrifying moment for as long as possible in case he decided to push you away, an all too familiar voice echoed in the vicinity. Ghost immediately recoiled, his gaze darting around as he tried to locate the source of the interruption.

Soap.

It was almost impossible not to feel a surge of irritation. Soap, as endearing as he generally was, had unknowingly sabotaged your first, and quite possibly the only, opportunity to kiss Ghost. A moment that could have been the catalyst to finally surrender to the emotions you both had been concealing.

Instantly, your mind began to spiral into overthinking.

What if this moment was the only window of opportunity that would ever present itself?

The thought was tormenting, and it echoed in your head, amplifying your anxiety. It grew, like a shadow stretching with the setting sun, into a formidable specter that haunted your sleep that night. And the bitter irony was that despite the emotional turmoil, the status quo remained. You and Ghost were still in that frustratingly ambiguous territory of being... nothing more, nothing less. Just friends.

#simon riley x reader #writing #simon ghost riley #call of duty #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #cod #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost cod #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod ghost #justfriends #fem!reader #ao3 fanfic #fanfic

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kittttycakes · 2 months

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red currant

Read on AO3 here. No one can outrun grief, not even Morpheus, formerly Dream of the Endless. Grief is patient, and it will wait, even in the aisles of a grocery store, to take him into its arms and hold him tight. contents: Dreamling, human Morpheus, post-Kindly Ones, mild gore, brief discussion of food-related issues, grief

At first, Morpheus was too busy dealing with a body that needed things. It was often too cold, its joints ached terribly, and it took him longer than he cared to admit to recognize what hunger and thirst actually felt like. The latter came with their own host of indignities, not least of which was the seeming inability to properly digest dairy, and a strong aversion to certain textures, no matter how appealing the food in question might be in theory.

Hob both understood, and didn’t. He was always warm, something Morpheus deeply envied, even if he wouldn’t admit to it aloud. He too struggled, sometimes, with food, albeit in a much different way; the cupboards were often overfull before being carefully culled for in-date products to donate away, and he ate to uncomfortable excess on occasion, as if he forgot that there would be more for the foreseeable future.

There was also the question of fashioning a life out of nothing. Morpheus was dragged to a tiny shop in an out of the way street and photographed for a passport purchased in cash, along with all other relevant cards and certificates that made someone human. He was, with great effort, persuaded to allow the doctor with kind eyes who still made house calls to examine him, who pronounced him to be in fair health and left him with a number of pamphlets on proper nutrition. He came to know how to use a phone in practice, instead of merely in theory.

But Hob couldn’t stay with Morpheus in the flat forever, and Morpheus threw himself into the process of becoming human. He spent long hours reading, books he once would have known simply by touching their spine, learned instead page by page and word by word. He slept more often than he thought an adult human might need, and he spent time submerged in the bathtub, topping up the hot water the second it began to grow tepid. He played music on Hob’s speakers, any album that Hob owned, and didn’t stop to think why he couldn’t bear to sit still without distraction.

Because Morpheus was fine. He had been trapped in a human body in a glass cage for a century; being suddenly and irrevocably shoved into the same form, pieced back together lovingly by hands he could not bear to contemplate, was almost a familiar feeling. He had not felt hunger or thirst or pain in that prison, but to discover them for himself was not mind-breaking. He endured, and he allowed Hob to care for him, and he did not let himself be otherwise.

But all things, as he came to know, must change.

He was alone in the shop around the corner from Hob’s flat. In exactly seventy-four minutes, Hob would be home for tea, and they were, inexplicably, entirely out of jam, which meant that he could not have jam on toast for tea, and that was entirely unacceptable.

To Hob’s unending surprise, Morpheus liked the shop, just as he liked the park at noon when all manner of people were milling about, and the pub of an evening when it was full and loud and bright. He did not want to speak with people, but he wanted to be within them, surrounded by them, the rise and fall of their voices, and Hob hadn’t asked him why. He had, instead, shown him a website dedicated to ambient noise, and told him that he could have the coffee shop in the flat all day if he wanted, if that was what he liked.

Morpheus was standing in front of the shelves dedicated to all manner of spreads, contemplating the relative merits of strawberry (a known quantity, which he liked very much) or red currant (unknown, untested, but also free of any bits, which he disliked very much, and red, which was a promising color when it came to foods), when he reached for a jar to peer at it up close, and instead met the hand of the shopper beside him, who had crept up without his awareness and reached for the exact same jar at the exact same moment.

He withdrew his hand, out of courtesy, and began to offer an apology as the woman beside him did the same, and neither of them kept hold of the jar, which fell, end over end, until it landed with a very final sounding smash at their feet. The woman stepped back with a small cry of alarm, and Morpheus stood, as if rooted to the very ground itself, and contemplated the slightly wobbling red mess in front of him. Vaguely, he was aware of the woman stepping to the end of the aisle to catch the attention of a shop worker, who would undoubtedly gather cleaning supplies and in fifteen minutes, it would be as if it had never happened at all.

There was a scent, a cloying sweetness that rose from the shattered remains of the jam jar, a scent that Morpheus was unsure anyone else had noticed, or that was perhaps unique to him as he stood, still and unmoving, a buzzing in his ears, like the whine of a particularly persistent fly, and he moved his hand as if to shoo it away and clean up the mess besides only to blink and see—

Viscera, deep and red as rubies; he was walking through a field of carnage, each step staining him further, gore working its way over his feet to his ankles—why had they bled? they were never flesh and blood (but that was a lie, a lie he told himself again and again and again—they had been flesh and blood to him) and he was walking towards the end of all things, or maybe just the end of himself, and it was quiet, so quiet, an unearthly silence so vast that it nearly swallowed him whole and he felt it, a physical thing, the shattering of all that he was, all that he was ever meant to be, but it hurt less than he thought it might, and for a moment, just a moment, he thought it was over, the power gone, until—he had never felt so hollow, and he tried to reach out, to feel the warm familiarity of uncountable minds of his creation and those entirely independent of himself, human and creature alike, and found only an unending void, he had thought it quiet before but this, this was true nothingness, an abyss in which there was only him, and him alone and he was nothing, nothing, nothing at all—

“—all right, duck? Just a bit of jam on your boots and trousers, nothing that won’t wipe right off, I’m sure, and no staining to worry about, not with that very sensible black, hides a world of sin, doesn’t it?”

The woman was standing near him, close enough to feel the warmth emanating from her, and once, he would have known her name. She was not touching him, only hovering a hand quite near him, as she continued, voice even more gentle.

“Let’s just step to the side, and we can get out of everyone’s way while they clean up.”

For one horrible, painful moment, he thought she might say more, might even offer to call someone for him, the look in her eyes well-meaning, but horribly perceptive. He could not bear to be seen. It was enough to jolt him into motion, and he nodded, somewhat stiffly, and moved away from the puddle of jam. The arrival of the shop worker, complete with cleaning supplies, distracted the woman long enough for Morpheus to enact his escape, abandoning any thoughts of tea or toast as he made his way, with single minded determination, back to the flat.

It was too quiet on his walk back, and it was too quiet inside the flat, the soft tick of the clock on the mantle and the gentle hum of the refrigerator not enough, never enough. Hob would be home in fifty-three minutes, and it was not enough.

He burnt the paper in the sink, watching it crumble in on itself and smolder into ash, not knowing if it would even work, being as he was. Morpheus waited, hands gripping the cold porcelain of the sink, his knuckles nearly white enough to match. She would understand, his sister. She would know what it was like. She could tell him what to do, how to live, now, that he was apart from the only piece of himself that he had ever cared for, no matter how imperfectly he had done so. He could not abide being so terribly, horribly alone, with only the sound of his own voice in his head to keep him company. There was no consciousness within him, save for his own.

Morpheus did not hear her enter the flat. She had always been so good at silence, slipping into spaces like smoke. Her hand, when she laid it over his own, was slightly clammy, and so painfully familiar that it made his chest ache.

“Brother,” she said, and he tried to speak, to greet her in return, but found that he could not force the words past his lips. She would know, he thought, she would understand.

She led him to the couch, pulling him to sit beside her, and Despair enfolded Morpheus in her arms.

#dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #despair of the endless #the sandman fanfic

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anincompletelist · 5 months

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[ vol i | vol ii | vol iii | fic rec fridays ]

hi all! :D I have slowly but steadily been knocking things off of my tbr list, a few classics and a few newer fics, and they've been AMAZING! as per usual I wanted to share before the list gets too long for next time!

as always, please remember to leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed the fic or show support in other ways, and be kind! mind the tags and if you come across something you dislike, please kindly (and quietly) move on.

happy new year and happy reading y'all! <3

Have you ever been alone in a crowded room? | @hgejfmw-hgejhsf | T+ | 5k

When the Legendary Balls-Out Bananas White House Trio New Year's Eve Party is interrupted by a security threat, Henry, Pez, Nora, June, and Alex find themselves locked in the White House library for their own protection with nothing but time, a few bottles of champagne, and some lighthearted conversation, until a single question threatens to change everything for Henry.

(+ read their first au fic here ahh!)

muscle memory | @dumbpeachjuice | E | 30k

It's been ten years since Alex was in London to stage a PR friendship with Henry after ruining the royal wedding. It's also been ten years since Alex dropped to his knees in front of Henry in a Kensington Palace kitchen. But now Henry's in the Hamptons for the summer, and who should he bump into? None other than Alex Claremont-Diaz, who happens to be working in New York all summer long.

You Are the Wave I Could Never Tame | bleedingballroomfloor | E | 12k

That should be it. Henry is doing his job; the pool is getting cleaned, and Alex shouldn’t think anything more of it. Then why does he feel the slightest bit of disappointment when he walks back to the pool house and Henry isn’t there? Or, the pool boy Henry AU that I couldn't stop thinking about until I wrote it.

if evil, why so cute? | @everwitch-magiks | E | 5k

Alex’s cat hates Alex, but loves Henry, the Bookstagram influencer who’s on vacation in Alex’s quiet seaside town. And while Alex is pretty salty about his grumpy cat’s inexplicable affection for a complete stranger, he must admit he can see the appeal; Henry is fucking gorgeous. It’s why Alex follows him on Instagram in the first place. It's just, Alex had never thought he’d be officially introduced to Henry by his own goddamn cat. Or: Henry takes a two-week vacation to a seaside cabin with the intent to read a lot of books. Instead, he has a lot of sex.

Just like that | @myheartalivewrites | E | 10k

When Henry comes home from a date frustrated by the guy’s lack of expertise, Alex starts having thoughts. And then, because he’s Alex, he sticks his big foot in his even bigger mouth.

(@myheartalivewrites listen I fell down a rabbit hole ok and if I could rec your entire ao3 here I would -- OH WAIT I CAN)

In His Wildest Dreams | @myheartalivewrites | E | 11k

Set in and around the Henry bonus chapter, this is a story about Henry and Alex’s hectic schedules, family appearances etc. pulling them apart, and about what starts to happen between them, in the quiet of night: their sleeping bodies turning to each other, finding their sweet spots and opening up. And Alex and Henry learning a lot about each other in the process

Be Worthy Love, and Love Will Come | @sparklepocalypse | E | 30k

"For Christmas this year, all I would like is a best friend who doesn’t mind too much that I’m a prince. Most of my classmates poke fun because of who I am, or treat me like I’m too special to be their friend. I want a best friend who knows me as much as my family does and still likes me. I know that you can’t wrap a best friend up in a box and put it under the tree, but you’re magic so you know the best way to bring one." (Movieverse canon divergence; Prince Henry, age 8, writes to Father Christmas wishing for a best friend. A few weeks later, he finds one.)

A Picture on Your Corkboard | bleedingballroomfloor | M | 23k

It happens on a random morning in May when Alex, age fourteen, pads into the kitchen to greet his mother and steal a waffle from June's plate and sees a man sitting at their breakfast counter, reading a newspaper, a cup of coffee raised to his lips. Like he belongs. Like it's the most natural thing in the world. June doesn't seem to give the man a second thought. She merely flicks Alex on the forehead and takes back the waffle. Ellen isn't worrying, either. In fact, she's talking to him. Asking what his schedule is like. Making plans for dinner. Alex has never seen this man before in his life.

I want to mark my skin (it is paper thin) | @violetbaudelaire-quagmire | M | 10k

To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Subj: Tattoo Reference Attached: 1 file (orionsketch.jpg) Hello, Attached you’ll find a line art drawing of the constellation Orion. The shoulder blade is the intended location. Best, H.J. Fox [OR: It's a Tattoo Shop AU!]

(Dil)Do It Yourself | @happiness-of-the-pursuit | E | 16k

“Listen,” Nora starts, turning her body once more so that she’s sitting sideways in the chair with her legs thrown across the armrest. “I did the math. There’s a 79% chance you’re gonna become a slut to the power of the prostate, and while we’re not dating anymore, it’s my duty as your fellow slutty bisexual to get this party started.” Or, when Nora drags Alex to a holiday dildo workshop, he doesn’t expect to find someone to use it with.

just a figure of speech | @congee4lunch | E | 17k

“Like I said: Alphas really don’t know how to fuck.” “And like I said,” Alex sets down his mug and steps closer to Henry. “I can fuck and I know how to fuck you so well, you’ll see stars, baby.” [henry, an omega, hasn’t had good sex in a long time. as his alpha roommate and friend, alex can help with that. in a totally platonic bro way, of course]

saving some for next rec, I'll see you all then! enjoy, and remember to show support if you did! <3

#my fic recs #fic recs #rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #Alex x henry #RWRB fic #red white and royal blue fanfic #firstprince fic

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sanemisstalker · 10 months

Note

!spoiler!

hey, I saw your requests are open, so here we go...

imagine rengoku and y/n had a 'friends with benefit' relationship before he passed away, but then he comes back 2 years after his 'dead'.

as half demon.

he's sitting in front of your bedroom window one night and you can't believe your eyes...

he tells you how much he missed you and that his love for you grew stronger every day (soft human ren) but when he smelled that you let giyuu touch your body... oh dear

he shows y/n who she belongs to..(rough demon ren) his other half taking over and fucks y/n so hard and good to make it clear that she belongs to him. only him.

👉👈 hf <3

You deserve the most INSANE head for this concept oh ym fucking god. Oh my fucking g o d. I went delusional when I saw this last night.

CW/ Fem reader, AFAB genitalia, Breasted /Rengoku briefly mentions Suicide/ SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA......../ Giyu's life is on a clock/ Possessiveness/ BDSM Dynamics (mutual ownership)

-I can imagine how the news would've stricken you in specific. How muted it must have been. Day in and day out of hearing the cries of people much closer to the flame pillar than you could ever hope to be.

-You weren't his brother, you weren't his father- You weren't any of the young men that watched him pass- That had to stare at his, apparently, mangled corpse for hours, awaiting help in the uncomfortably hot air he left in his death.

-Hell, you weren't even a hashira yet. You just... knew the guy a little too intimately. Just enough for it to hurt more than you felt you deserved.

-It's not like he was going to marry you, or even ask for a partnership. They hadn't found a ring on his body in some grand last appeal-

-He wasn't even thinking about coming back for you-

-and it had felt that way for a while, now. You weren't counting the days, but you knew his birthday had passed twice. You hadn't quite remembered yours, but his had come and gone.

-Rengoku always remembered those kinds of details though. He was pretty big on the little things, so much so that he considered no thing too little.

-When the ex-water hashira had dropped off a small gift, courtesy of himself, you were partially confused. You hadn't known Giyu inherently well, nor did you think he paid you any mind.

-'I've been looking for your home for a while.' He'd hand you the gift. 'It was... hard to find.'

-'What is this for?'

-'Your birthday.'

-'It's my birthday?' The question came out more pathic than you'd hoped.

-'I- this may seem invasive... but... before his death, Rengoku had mentioned the date to me in passing. I had to ask around to see what was so important about it.'

-'He mentioned my birthday?' God, you were just full of pathetic questions, it seemed.

-'The... anniversary was just last week...' He was clearly stumbling.

-'I- maybe it's because my years are... numbered... but I- I wanted to put forward his kindness. I was too in my own head to do so while he was alive. Please open it before I say anything else.'

-It was a button. The top one of the demon slayer uniform.

-'I don't want to make any... assumptions about you and Rengoku, but I know, at the bare minimum, he was fond of you. I think he would've wanted you to have something of his... He left most of his clothes to his younge-'

-He'd begin apologizing profusely when you'd start sobbing. You'd collapse into his arms, clutching the box to your sternum and just wailing- A wail you hadn't known Kyojuro would even think you'd be worthy of.

-But Giyu thought you were worthy of it, and Giyu was the only one here right now. You cried in his arms for what felt like hours. You couldn't remember the last time you'd let somebody hold you- let a lone a man.

-His smell was cathartic. Like rain.

-His kiss meant nothing. Neither did the tear filled sex. Giyu was a dying man who'd done an inexplicable kindness. You got to pretend he was there, Giyu got to experience a warmth he'd never been rewarded for throwing a life away.

-You did not want Giyu to stay over in your bed, and thanked that button on your nightstand for his absence when you awoke in the dead of night.

-but Kyojuro remembers the little things.

-And you remember those loud eyes. They were perched at your window seal.

-You blinked once, twice-

-and then his face started to form in the darkness, and you were sure Giyu must have brought some ailment with him, because no. Not your Kyojuro, it must've been a delusion. Or maybe the original wasn't really dead-

-The way he said your name was undeniable. Past the buzz of the cicadas, and the huff of the wind.

-'Y/N.' The man said.

-'K-Kyojuro?'

-'Y/N!' There was palpable glee in the air, radiating from the man that claimed to be Kyojuro Rengoku.

-'W-who are you?' You'd croak.

-'...I'm Rengoku Kyojuro?' He'd respond softly. 'It is dark in here, I suppose. I'd meet you in the daylight if I could. I'm... not able, though.'

-How love stricken you must've been. At the mere chance that it was even partially him, you were bounding into his arms. You ignored the clear horns on his head, and bizarre markings along his neck. The undeniable smell of fear wafting from him-

-It was him. You knew even God or the devil himself couldn't recreate his warmth.

-It would take everything to remind Rengoku of his enhanced strength. The feeling of your body in his arms was heavenly- He'd only felt this elated maybe once before, in his mother's arms.

-'I missed you so much. Y/N, you will... Oh no, you're crying. You can't, or I'll cry too.' But he's already crying, afraid of his new found strength, and far too happy to see your face in the moonlight. Even if it's full of tears.

-'Sweet, and beautiful. You're just as striking as when I left. You look so tired... you've slept, right? Please don't tell me you've laid awake for me?' His heart ached at your nod.

-'I-I didn't deserve-'

-'Shshsh-' His hands would run through your hair. It was the first time in so long you'd felt the weight of your body- how slow you moved. 'I should never keep you so restless- come, sleep- sleep-'

-As the high of the night wore down, and Rengoku lulled you to bed with 'I love You's and the like, he felt at peace-

-But the smell of rain on such a dry night was aggravating his nose. He'd know that smell anywhere.

-Rengoku had formed a rather unfortunate temper since his supposed death. Not that he wasn't the same, fiery man at his core, calm, booming voice and all, but something he had never struggled with was the trade marked Rengoku male hot-headedness. (He'd always found his fathers decline in pride more than a little unsightly.)

-And he now struggled with it. Kyojuro had spent the last two years burning every unprompted shred of anger away so he could stand before you now as the same emotionally intact and strong man he'd died as.

-The one he hoped you loved.

-He'd sooner take his own life than take something out on you-

-but that smell.

-When you woke up, he questioned you as gently as he could.

-'Why do you smell like... water?'

-Your admission wouldn't be easy, but you couldn't lie to the man. You'd begin crying again, begging for forgiveness. He'd pull away to look at you with pity.

-'No, no- I'm the one that left you alone for so long. Don't apologize for my faults-' His hands would begin a slow decline down your body, tugging you closer by your ass. Your face would land squarely against his bare chest...

-And his hands- those big, all encompassing hands would move up your spine, to the nape of your neck.

-'Y/N, I'd like to address the elephant in the room.' He'd mumble against your temple as his hands wandered along your frame.

-'You're... You're not entirely human. I understand that.'

-'I... am not entirely right, anymore, Y/N. I want to warn you of that...'

-'I would...' hope, the thought briefly flitted in your head. Though clearly a travesty, Kyojuro had often waited for you to make the first move. The sudden interest on his behalf was more than nice. 'I would... assume.'

-'I don't want to harm, or scare you. Please don't let me do either. If I ever even- begin to... Behead me where I stand.'

-'I-I couldn't-' You'd shudder.

-'You can.' Rengoku would assure. 'I've developed an awful habit.' He'd be squeezing your hip, massaging just rough enough to rock you. He'd pull your leg up and over his own... Slotting himself between your thighs.

-'Y/N, did you let him cum inside you?' The word felt foreign on his tongue. How crude of him.

-'N-no!' You rushed.

-'Did he make you cum?'

-'....No.'

-'Mmm.' Rengoku hummed, his large hand running up your thigh. You quivered as he made contact with your sex. 'You haven't had one in a long time, then.' His fingers would slip past your gown, and pull your garments to the side-

-'I- I haven't. It didnt..didn't... feel right-'

-'Nobody can make you cum like I can, right, Y/N?'

-'Nobody.' You rushed. Your body was reeling from his touch. The mere possibility of his cock once again battering your insides was--

-'And this...' One of his fingers would slid into you, your insides still mushy from Giyu's use. 'This is still mine, right?'

-'It's- It's a yours. It always will be.'

-'Even in death?' Rengoku whispered against your temple.

-'For forever- For as long as you want it-'

-'You're my strong girl, right?' You'd nod. You'd be his anything. 'And this,' He'd add another finger, curling them inside of you.

-Part of him was pleased, you were all stretched out and ready. Giyu must have done you well....

-Giyu had no right to do anything with you.

-'This wants your cock?' He'd ask. You didn't even think before nodding. You'd never heard such words from his mouth.

-How daunting

-You'd cling to his bare chest, trying to just get closer. 'Say you want it.'

-'Give me my cock.' You'd slur. 'I need you. I've needed you. Please- please- I need you to let me.... Use me- I-' He'd already done you in, and he hadn't even tried.

-He could never turn you down. Especially not now that he was so much weaker.

-You stayed laying down, your body pressed against his broad chest- And Rengoku slipped his cock beneath your gown. He didn't bother removing your panties.

-He didn't even let you adjust before he wrapped his arms around you tight and just began pumping.

-How cruel, but it was the least you deserved for allowing another man so close. Rengoku would never punish you for it. He was too kind. He was too good, even when a demons blood crept through his veins. Rengoku was just too fucking good-

-'You're-' a hiccup would interrupt your sob. Words were lost on your poor, over fucked mind. You'd never experienced such speed, or such a grind. 'So- good- Kyo-kyojuro---!'

-His hand swiping at your clit was quick enough for it almost feel like vibrations. Climax after climax while your creaming cunt just begged for his seed.

-You felt like you were being consumed. He didnt break eye contact with you once- Not even allowing you the reprieve to look away from him.

-'Open your eyes.' He cooed, still thrusting up and into your pussy with a roughness that seemed almost impossible with such a tone. 'Look at whose loving you while you cum. Look at whose making you cum.'

-He wanted your eyes on him, and him alone. He wasn't sure what animal he'd become if they drifted away. You wouldn't. You can't.

-He'd never been so possessive. Had never claimed you- He had never really wanted to. Marry you, definitely. Kyojuro had never planned to bed you and not dedicate his romantic life to you-

-but you were always supposed to be able to leave, if you really wanted. He wasn't sure he was strong enough to let you do that, now.

-'Say my name again. Remember whose you are, Y/N. Burn it in your head.' He hissed, an unusual quiet to his voice. It made you hang on every word.

-You were his. He was yours.

-'Kyojuro! Kyojuro!' It was all you could manage. Every question he posed, every time he hummed, or thrust, or made you cum- You'd let him seer in across your stomach if he found fit-

-Rengoku had never loved his name so much. He'd make sure to burn it in your head again, if need be.

#rengoku x y/n #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer smut #rengoku x reader #rengoku smut #demon rengoku #hashira x reader

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