#but now its barbie and ken's turn

[frecklystars]

If I wasn’t saving my money for the signature Barbie/Ken dolls I would probably be commissioning someone to write me on a rly cute fluffy amusement park date with Barbie and Ken,,, Barbie winning me prizes effortlessly and Ken trying to buy stock out of the cotton candy and donuts sections because he knows they're my favorite and I get to kiss them both on the ferris wheel and we hold hands on the rollercoaster and and and 🥺🥺🥺

[lianlianlianlian]

I want to write barbie x ken fanfiction set maybe a couple years after the movie (Barbie spoilers)

where ken decides to go to the Real World because he Can Do That now and meets barbie again whos been adjusting and living self-love and doing things and finding herself and It's this, like, tearful reunion moment and Ken's still in love with her but he's much better at keeping it to himself because ken always respects barbie's decisions, but barbie spends a few days with this ken who has over time also sort of become himself, and has discovered his interests and likes and dislikes and became, like, more rounded through experiences and discovers that she finds him utterly endearing and begins falling for him and just. Second chances pure friendship to lovers barbie x ken where they take some time off for themselves and meet each other as better people (dolls? idk u get the point).

[sammusbird]

rrrgggggahhhh I watched Barbie, which probably will be remembered as the best big movie of the decade, and left with a migraine and the thought that it “was really fun but too clumsy in its messaging and themes.” And today I watched Emesis Blue, a fucking horror movie fan animation of Team Fortress 2, and found it so beautiful that I’m laying in the dark just thinking about the kickass themes and symbollism….. IT’S SO GOOD??????????

[bubonicpain]

Bad news lads.... i didn't like the Barbie movie.

I'm gonna rant about my take in the tags please don't send me messages for why I'm wrong this was my personal take away if you don't like it and it makes you mad please just block me.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This is the house from HGTVs "The Barbie Dreamhouse Challenge," but as soon as the show wrapped they changed it. “The investors thought it would have higher resale value being a modern, beautiful, newly renovated home,” said the real estate agent, “They obviously weren’t going for the serious Barbie fans.” I'm a Barbie collector and there are lots of us. Someone would've bought it. Here are the befores and afters.

This is what it looks like now, and priced at $2,049,995 it just sold for $1.845M. I am so disappointed. Built in 1997, the 5bd, 5ba home is located in Canyon Country, California. HGTV looked at about 50 houses and finally bought this one for $1.750M. Each designer star team did a room and the team of  Mika and Brian Kleinschmidt of “100 Day Dream Home” won. When I was looking for before pics, a lot of the sites were no longer available- they didn't want us Barbie people to see the befores, I bet.

The family room before. I don't really care for the retro look.

Family room after. But, I don't like this white, either.

In the living room, the major features that the designers installed remain, like the two-story fireplace and the updated circular staircase. Everything else was changed to neutral gray, black & white.

The dining room. Man, they must've used an awful lot of white paint to cover up the deep colors.

The ’50s kitchen was stripped of the pastels and replaced with neutrals, but the retro Big Chill appliances—refrigerator, oven, dishwasher, stove, even the hood—are still in place, b/c they're very expensive. And, the pop-up appliance lifts on the island are still in place, too.

Ken's den wasn't changed much b/c it was cool, but they did remove the disco floor. Allison Victoria & Ty Pennington dancing on the disco floor.

Looks like they turned the walk-in closet/dressing room into an office.

It already had an office, so now it has two. Wow, they left the striped ceiling intact.

The new dull bedroom.

And, home gym.

The realtor wanted to buy the big brush on the wall, but was told that all the props had to go back to Mattel Toys.

And, finally, the pool. Mika and Brian Kleinschmidt won for their design on the pool and yard. Well, I see they kept the pink spiral stairs, yellow lifesaver and umbrella.

The dog elevator went back to Mattel, too.

https://www.realtor.com/news/trends/exclusive-the-barbie-dreamhouse-is-now-for-sale-but-prepare-to-be-shocked-by-its-whole-new-look/

[swiftries]

NEW INTERESTS

summary: as business woman barbie, you had to be quite serious and uptight about your field of work. so when you couldn't make it sleepover night, which wasn't unexpected of course ꒰but nevertheless꒱ , stereotypical barbie comes to check up on you.

warning/s: top! barbie, bottom! reader, no smut, but it's implied, fluff/comfort, tired reader, talk of depression, swearing, not proofread, pretend they have genitals btw.

word count: forgot to check lmao

authors note: hi hi hii ! first post omg? i just watched the new barbie movie and..im fucking obsessed, i swear i missed half the movies dialogue tho cause i was admiring margot's gorgeous face. anyway i thought what if we had a super stressed, borderline depressed barbie who just needed a break from her thoughts ? enjoy pookies ! ୨♡୧

+ btw men dni.

navigation ! | ୨♡୧

the wheels of your pastel pink car came to a stop in your driveway as you sluggishly dragged yourself out of the drivers seat. another long day, another girls night you couldn't deal with. bright lights illuminated the moving bodies on the vast dance floor, pointed stilettos tapping and turning swiftly as stiff hands clapped and clicked to the music.

clutching your purse, you moved across the dance floor, avoiding flapping arms and desperate kens in need of a dance partner. as you got to the last section of your mission, you felt a pair of eyes on you, a pair of eyes that were too familiar for you to shake off. looking over to your far left you found a set ocean blue eyes staring right back at you. the one and only stereotypical barbie. the perfect one, the main bitch of barbieland acknowledging your presence.

conversations between the two of you were very scarce. with you having a very busy work life and her having none at all, you never crossed paths that much. but living right across from her was a given, so conversations at times were necessary.

brushing off the nervous feeling that had crept up on you, you silently scolded yourself for the rosy blush that had quickly painted your cheeks. once again, clutching your purse tighter, you resumed your journey to your apartment in the lively dreamhouse.

the scratched door creaked open as you released your grip on the plastic doorknob. in any other room you can pretty much expect bright pinks and yellows and lovely colors..but not yours. in fact it wasn't the case at all.

black scribble lines all over formerly hot pink walls, torn up grey bed sheets, deflated pillows, a bedside rug that was once a lovely shade of baby blue now a murky lake green, and scratches, whoever was messing with this room had a no sense for care, as this room, this room was desecrated with scratches and marks.

sighing, you flopped unto the creaky mattress, the back of your knees hitting the plastic bed structure. reaching over to your achy feet, you pulled off the black heels that had been causing you anguish the whole day.

dropping your heels, you unzipped your pale pink silk dress, one of the very rare bright pieces of clothing you had left. flinging it over to the other side of the room, you tapped over to your closet, the once shiny, luxurious white structure, scribbled on and vandalised; stripped of its pride. you looked through the distressed drawer that had been left open from the mornings' rush. music flooded into the silence of your room as picked out navy blue pyjama bottoms and a tight fitted white tank top.

as if by magic (no pun intended) , your desired clothing adorned your slim body as you strolled over to your bed, plopping yourself on it and sinking into the mattress.

thoughts clouded your mind like a raging storm, keeping you a prisoner of your own mind. weird barbie said this would happen a lot more so it shouldn't have been unexpected. but it still hit you like a brick every time the thought of stereotypical barbie flooded your head. her plump lips, the crystal blue eyes that locked you in a trance at the slightest glance and her hair, oh god her hair. you just wanted to run your fingers through the golden curls. you wanted to tangle your fingers in it, you wanted to ruin it, you hated how perfect it was.

you hated her. you hated how ken adored her, how everyone was so goddamn drawn to her, it was like the town revolved around her jobless ass. you wanted her. you needed her. you needed her to need you. but you had your ken and she had hers, and that was that.

the last person who uttered a word about a barbie and a barbie or a ken and a ken was weird barbie and look how she turned out. it's not like you weren't weird yourself, with your heels dropping, thoughts about death, uncanny interests in barbie , your burnt waffles and messed up room and messed up clothes, you were borderline line outcast. you just hadn't been sent to the weird house yet.

'it's only a matter of time though'. you thought shutting your eyes. the late nights and early mornings catching up to you.

it only seemed like a few minutes before you felt the opposite side of your bed sink and a warm hand on your icy shoulder. shrieking, you leaped into an upright position, very nearly hitting your head on your heart shaped headboard.

"jesus! what the hell.." you came to an abrupt stop as you looked over to your side meeting a very dear set of eyes. "look, i'm sorry for barging in so randomly, i know you were sleeping and you're a very busy woman and-" the words mushed together in your head as you focused on her pouty lips. you would let her talk for hours on end if it meant seeing those lips move.

"it's okay." you stated, the corners of your lips turning up. "really? i mean i could leave honestly! it's no biggie..i mean if you want me stay i could?" the icy blonde rambled meeting your gaze softly. "i promise your fine." you assured her shuffling a bit, suddenly feeling very naked.

"so why are you here?" you questioned, sinking back into the comfort of your duvet. dropping your gaze, she fiddled with her velvet night gown, undoing the strings and redoing them. "..well i don't know, you looked more down than usual and you at least make it to the nail painting sessions in my room, but today you missed the whole night altogether." barbie confessed, searching your y/e/c eyes for reasons.

"i know, but-" "you promised." she stated, cutting your flimsy excuse short. "i'm sorry. i've just- i've had some things on my mind as of recent." you explained, your eyes looking at barbies' room across from yours.

“ what type of thoughts?” you raised your eyebrow at her answering her question silently. “right. too far… sorry.” she blushed, tucking her blonde hair behind her ears. an uncomfortable silence filled the room as barbie crossed her legs, moving dangerously close to you.

clearing your throat, you glanced at her figure, letting the image cloud your senses. the curve of her hips to the sharp cut of her jawline, she really was the perfect barbie.

“i have thoughts about death too.” barbie whispered. you didn’t reply so she continued “all the time actually. they’re more frequent than they used to be. i thought maybe someone felt the same way as me so i shared it during the dance party downstairs, but, they just looked at me like i was.. weird.”

your heart rate tripled as you gazed up at her. she looked so.. vulnerable. all this time you had thought you were alone in this paradise. you thought of yourself as the elephant in the room. but there was a chance that the one person you thought was perfect, was just as fucked up as you.

“i’m so sorry, i’m gonna leave now-” “stay.” you muttered connecting your eyes with hers. “what?” the blonde asked, a bewildered look on her face. “i think about death too. maybe we have more in common than we thought.” you explained, running your fingers through your y/h/c haphazardly layered hair.

grinning immediately barbie sat back down, babbling instantly. and you did what anyone would do if they were in that same situation, you stared at her with hearts in your eyes, smiling broadly.

only mattel knew how you ended up sprawled across your bed with barbie straddling your lap, braiding chunks of your hair. who knew depressive thoughts could bond two dolls like this?

“your eyes are so pretty.” you murmured gazing up into her ocean blues. blushing she retorted : “oh shut up.” , but you could tell from her scarlet cheeks and darting eyes that she appreciated the compliment.

“can i kiss you?” you blurted, not being able to hold yourself back. barbie stared at you, her eyes glistening. preparing yourself for rejection you opened your mouth only to have it shut by pillowy lips.

stars behind your eyelids, in fact a whole constellation. gliding your fingers up the small of her back, you reciprocated the kiss as she cupped your face softly. biting your bottom lip, she explored your mouth slowly. sucking on your tongue, she extracted a well deserved moan out of you.

“fuck y/n” she groaned, grinding on you. moaning desperately, you fervently moved your hands around her body as she pulled away. breathing heavily you both stared at each other lovingly. “the others will hear..” she commented, returning to fiddling with your hair. agreeing, you smirked as she looked at your lips.

“i better go then. i don’t want you tired tomorrow, busy work life and all.” the blonde remarked as she slowly stood up. “mhm” you retorted, as you let your eyes wander all over her body.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, sleep well okay?” she stated, looking over at you as she got to the door. “i will.” you grinned, snuggling into your comforter. and at that she giggled as she closed your door, the echo of her voice promising you of better days. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🩰 ꒱ ˎˊ˗

[deanbrainrotwritings]

—  SUMMER’S STELLAR GAZE

SUMMARY : part III of gimme half. on a mini-roadtrip to the bunker for something dean left behind, she decides to test dean’s word and his promises.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit (18+), fluff, Dean isn’t allergic to cats in this universe bc wtf, blowjob, hair pulling, dirty talk, road head, risky business 

WORD COUNT : 2.2k

A/N : silverstein song title. so yeah, I love Dean forever and ever actually, just like I wrote in my diary when I was ten. Omniscient POV to reader’s POV like a good ol’ movie. Xxxxxx

Dean sort of wanted to impress her. 

She was a hunter, like him, after all. 

If he showed her the Bunker, he hoped she'd be impressed; by him, by it, he really hoped so. There was a lot about the Bunker that impressed him when he’d gotten there. The dungeon, the showers, the lore, the garage, the kitchen, everything. That was his first thought when Sam asked Dean for some boxes of the kitchen items he’d left behind since they couldn’t bring everything with them. Dean saw the opportunity to show off. 

The past two weeks went by quickly. They were together now. Shared a New Years kiss at the behest of Eileen, Jack, and even tiny, baby Dean. 

Sam and Eileen were like kids with Barbie and Ken dolls, thrilled to make their favourite couple kiss at last. Cas and Jack were stunned at the discovery that two of them hated each other at first, but they were happy to see that Dean was happy.

It all just came together, somehow, after falling apart so messily. Her and Dean. Their lives.

It was natural for her to be around all of them. Dean forgot that it was him she had a problem with at first. It made it easy for Dean and hard for him all at once. They knew her better than he did and she knew them well, too.

They began bonding over hunting stories when he told Sam, Eileen, Cas, and Jack that she was also a hunter; she'd ask Cas and Jack a dozen questions whenever she could after finding out they were angels—the other, a nephilim. Sometimes, he’d catch a glimpse at Cas’ phone notifications and see what she asks him with a smile on his face. 

They’ve all been hanging out because of the holidays. She stayed with him during the weekends because he asked her to. He met her family, it was terrifying since they just started… dating… but her family was funny and kind to him. It eased his nerves, but they told him they’d heard of him from other hunters. He knew he was safe, hunters mostly liked him and his brother… except for the parts where they were at fault for all the bad stuff. 

Miracle was happier than ever to have his friend back, her Cat, Bubbles. Dean had a feeling Sam and Jack would take Miracle over to her place or maybe Miracle and Bubbles truly still remembered each other. 

Things are better, hotter now that they are together, more than when they were enemies. Dean was just beyond happy that he had her, that they talked about it… sort of. 

“You listen to the same music as my big brother,” she chuckled from beside him, the box of cassette tapes resting on her lap as she riffled through them. Dean smiled, taking his eyes off the road to gaze at her momentarily. 

“Yeah?” He asked, turning back to the road as they drove into the long, wintry, still-green forest that would lead them to the Bunker. 

“Yeah, I grew up on all of this music. My dad even loves Led Zeppelin,” she told him distractedly, staring at the clear plastic box labelled as Led Zeppelin. She shrugged and inserted the cassette tape into the deck of the car, Bonzo’s Montreux playing softly. 

“You get more and more awesome the more I get to know you,” he told her, biting his lip when he looked over at her. She pursed her lips as she smiled, entertained by his flirty, deep voice and his suggestive wink. 

“Awesome?” She smirked, putting the box back into its place. He turned to look at her once more, but he couldn’t look away from the softness and mischief in her eyes the whole time. 

“Perfect?” He offered, glancing away from her, taking in the big green trees he’s already familiar with. “Kissable? Hotter?” He suggested, smiling coquettishly. “Mmm, extra fuckable?” She looked at him through her lashes, her cheeks pink, and her breath unstable. 

Dean shifted in his seat and sat up straight, looking away from her arousing fuck-me gaze with his fingers tightening around the black steering wheel of his heavy car. Heat flooded the area between her legs at his reaction. Her clit pulsed in pace with her heartbeat and she bit her lip. A million ideas streamed through her mind. A million ideas to relieve the need she had to be fucked by Dean once more. 

The tension in the car was nearly as thick as the first night they had sex, it made her breathless, her heart pounded heavily with lust in her chest, and her pussy squeezed around nothing, instantly remembering the sex they had in his garage before they left.

She placed her hand on his thigh and he inhaled sharply, quickly turning to look at her with a deep blush on his face. Dean relaxed his grip on the steering wheel, and held it with only one hand, to put one of his hands over hers. She bit her lip and watched the side of his gorgeous face as he guided her hand higher. 

She smiled brightly and lifted her hand beneath his to smack his hand away. He chuckled, taking a quick glance over at her playfulness. 

“You said you’d fuck me anywhere, at any time,” she leaned over slightly, placing her arms on top of the seat, and resting her chin on her crossed arms. He glanced at her, exhaling shakily as she held his gaze through her lashes. “You promised me a lot of things, actually,” she moved her hand away, tracing his jaw with her fingers. His eyes fluttered shut. “Dean…” she murmured, moving her fingers up to his lips, and he opened his eyes before he could swerve too far from the road. “I recall a few things you seemed to really like.” 

She leaned forward suddenly, licking his earlobe mischievously. Dean moaned softly, his eyelids heavy with lust, and his eyes clouded over with arousal. 

“Like making me choke on your cock,” she whispered into his ear, dragging her lips down his neck. He groaned softly and shuddered, squirming as he attempted to focus on driving. “I want you in my mouth, Dean,” she purred, sliding her hand down his chest and stomach slowly, “right here, right now.”

“Fuck,” Dean moaned, lifting his hips up into her hand when she cupped his cock over his jeans. She sucked gently at his pulse, making the faded mark on his neck return. “Yes,” he whispered, biting his lip hard. 

“I love when you get hard for me, baby,” she murmured, squeezing his cock. 

“I need you,” he rasped, “I want to see your pretty mouth wrapped around me.” She laughed softly, unbuckling herself from the seat and then him. He chewed on his lip and focusing on driving as he got closer to the Bunker while she unbuckled his belt. He lifted his hips after she unzipped his jeans, allowing her to lower them slightly until his cock was free. 

“You’re aware of how blessed you are, right?” She teased, biting her lip, sliding her fingers up his cock. Dean gasped and then he laughed breathlessly, his dick twitching at her delicate touch. 

“I’m aware of how much you like my dick?” He smiled down at her shyly. She licked her lips, and rolled her eyes at his modesty. She kissed the tip, then gently placed her hand around the base to kiss her way down.

“Have you heard the sounds I make when you fuck me?” She whispered against the velvety skin of his cock. He grunted softly when she flattened her tongue and licked her way back up. “I don’t make those often, by the way,” she said casually, swirling her tongue around the tip. 

“Here I thought you were a good girl,” he breathed out, lowering one hand into her hair, to try and push her down on his cock. She squeezed his cock, jerking her hand up and down quickly, then sucked on the tip hard, causing him to choke on a moan. She pulled away with a loud suckling sound that made him curse under his breath.

“I went over to your place without underwear, and then I asked you to talk dirty as I sucked your dick, and then I begged you to cum inside me. What part of all that made you think I was a good girl?” She lapped the precum that beaded from his tip, her mouth watering at the taste of him. 

“The morning after,” he answered softly, his emerald eyes flickering to hers. She stopped licking his cock momentarily to consider his words, the tenderness in his voice causing her stomach to flutter. It was things like this, his words, his actions… things like that about Dean that aroused her even more. 

She moaned appreciatively, lowering her mouth over his dick, then pulled up almost all the way off, repeating the motion, and then began sucking, and licking. He moaned her name softly, struggling to focus on driving such a heavy car, but she noticed the slower speed. 

She took him deeper into her mouth, gagging slightly when he touched the back of her throat. Dean moaned out a curse, tightening his grip on her hair, pushing her up and down his cock faster. She moaned softly around him, letting him guide her as she sucked her way up his cock, her tongue moving along the underside of his length. Occasionally, her throat constricted around his length as she swallowed. 

His hitched breath made her wetter, throaty groans, and desperate grunts made her clit pulse uncomfortably in her warm dress pants. She reached down to press her fingers against her clit and took him all the way down her throat. His hips bucked upwards and the leather around the wheel squeaked under his tight grip, but he never pulled too roughly on her hair. 

“Holy fuck,” Dean grunted as she wrapped her hand around the base of his cock when she got to the leaking tip and sucked the taste of his precum. Then, she began to twist her hand around him, following the path of her mouth up and down, until she heard rocks and dirt crunching beneath the wheels of the car, and the Impala coming to a complete stop. 

Dean relaxed completely as he set the car in park, leaning his head backwards. The sounds of his pleasure and the wet sound of her mouth and throat getting fucked competed for volume. Dean lifted his shirt and gazed down at her, thrusting his hips up faster into her mouth.

She blinked away tears to stare into his eyes, her cheeks and ears burning hot, her jaw and lips sore from taking him. She moaned softly again, letting him push his cock up into her throat, catching the blurred ecstasy on his face. His red lips trapped between white teeth, his freckled cheeks rosy, and his brows furrowed. 

“I’m gonna cum, baby,” he panted, lovingly moving her hair from her pink and wet face. She hummed around him in approval and closed her eyes, focusing on bringing him closer to his climax. Dean’s thrusts began to stutter and he started to get more vocal, arousing her further. “God, I love your mouth,” he whispered, thrusting upwards hard as he came in thick, hot spurts down her throat. “Fuck, yeah,” he moaned, shuddering at the feeling of her swallowing around him. 

Dean pulled her off him despite not finishing, his cum dripping down his cock despite her best efforts to collect everything. That seemed to be the purpose. When she opened her eyes, he was watching her with his tongue poking between his teeth, looking both cute and sexy. 

“What?” She asked, and kept tugging at his cock as his cum dribbled down from the slit, and over her hand. She tightened her hold around the heat of him in her wet hand. She bit her wet, swollen lip, and sat up, slowly stopping the strokes of her hand to watch him. 

Dean leaned forward to kiss her all of the sudden, her heart lurching in her chest, the way it always did when he kissed her. He held her jaw, licking her spit and his cum from her lip. He moaned into her mouth, pulling her face closer, meeting her warm tongue with his. She let go of his dick, and smiled against his mouth, before pulling away.

Dean chased her lips, but she pushed his chest roughly so he stayed pressed against the seat, laughing quietly. He smiled leaning forward anyway, his nose brushing against hers, lips agonisingly remaining a few millimetres away from hers. 

“Can we have sex in your old bed?” She whispered, tugging gently at his jacket, her lips brushing against his. He panted against her mouth, whining softly in attempts to make her kiss him. 

“Yes, whatever you want,” he responded quietly. 

She hummed when she kissed Dean once more; a passionate, long, and deep kiss with tongue and teeth that made her needier. She helped readjust him as they made out, a hot and breathy exchange before heading back on the road to the Bunker.

➥ closer than this

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do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

[old-acc-gaylorscatmeredith]

Hits different is the most explicitly gay song Taylor has ever released

'Bet I could still melt your world, argumentative, antithetical dream girl' she is directly addressing her dream girl here. She's saying she could melt the dream girl's world. Literally what else could that possibly mean?

'I used to switch out these Kens' for what? It could be she's referring to men as Kens because she plays with them like dolls, but specifically 'switch out' rather than 'play with' implies she's switched them out for something else, like another Barbie - something I've found to be a common experience among girls who like girls.

Also 'asshole outlaw' reminds me of her country roots, and country music is generally very homophobic and sexist. She used to comply by these standards and mindsets but not anymore. Now, 'don't need another metaphor, its simple enough' she doesn't need to disguise it as friendship, instead she's writing song explicitly about this dream girl who she's in love with and skipping the metaphors for other more direct references:

Like references to other songs too, like mentions of summer because of Cruel Summer with 'freedom felt like summer ... now the sun burns'. 'I snuck in through the garden gate every night that summer just to seal my fate' when the only garden gate Taylor's been seen around is Karlie's. The matching lyric: 'I'm drunk in the back of the car and I cried like a baby coming home from the bar' matches with 'I never don't cry at the bar ... I slur your name 'til someone puts me in a car' she's drunk and says 'Karlie' or 'Kar' which is mistaken for 'car'.

A New Romantics reference too, which is such a gay anthem I could write a whole other post about it. 'Like waiting for a bus that never comes' is to me a weirdly out of place lyric just like 'we wait for trains that just aren't coming'.

I'd even argue 'I heard your key turn in the door down the hallways/Is it okay? Is it you?/Or have they come to take me away?' is asking if interacting with Karlie at all is okay to do at all, if she can focus on the public drama about them actually being about her and Karlie, when all she can think about is being found out and taken away from her fame and reputation.

Then of course 'each bar plays our song nothing has ever felt so wrong' meaning 'their song' must be a popular and mainstream song to be played at bars so often, or more broadly could mean mainstream love songs in general which are mostly straight and don't feel right to her for some reason. Her friends tell her that's okay because 'love is a lie' but she knows they're only saying it to make her feel better, when that's not the real reason why 'moving on was always easy'.

Despite all the men she never really liked and the love that never felt right to her, this one person 'hits different'. You as the listener have a choice, either hear she's with her dream girl and it feels right, or that she 'just needed to meet the right guy', as straight people tell lesbians their entire lives.

This has been a gaylor essay thank you for reading

[hornyhornyhimbos]

"Happy Campers" ~ S. Harrington

Summary: When Steve and Reader are having a hard time picking out Halloween costumes, they find their old Girl/Boy Scouts uniforms in the back of the closet, hoping to use them for the party. However, the outfits just a little shorter than they remembered.

Pairing: Husband!Steve Harrington x AFAB!Wife!Reader

Word Count: 1,721

Content Warning: MINORS DNI (18+ content) unprotected piv sex, cowgirl activities, nicknames (princess), explicit language, this will taint how you see the Girl Scouts

Extra Notes: thank you to @dungeons-are-too-cold for this idea! i love you 🫶🏻

Originally Written: 10/23/2023 through 10/25/2023

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It was a week to Halloween and still, you and Steve just couldn't decide on your costumes.

Every idea you threw at him, he hated, and every idea he tossed your way just wasn't good enough in your eyes. It was your first costume party as a married couple after all, and you were determined to make it the most memorable one yet.

Steve continued holding out random pieces of clothing from your closet, spewing out random ideas that each article reminded him of. "What about the Smurfs?" he asked, holding up one of your white sweaters.

You simply cocked an eyebrow at him, as if to reply, Seriously?

"Okay, maybe that one is a bad idea," he grumbled as he placed it back in the closet. Steve swiped through a few more items, landing again on a skirt this time. "Ooh, what about Ken and Barbie?"

Your head shook in disapproval. "Everyone always goes as Ken and Barbie. Besides, you'd look very silly with blond hair." You giggled at the thought of his gorgeous tufts painted blond for a night.

He grumbled again, under his breath this time, hanging up the umpteenth article of clothing. He sifted through a couple more hangers, getting inevitably closer to the back of your wardrobe. However, you didn't realize just how far back into your wardrobe he'd gone until he held up the next item.

"A-ha," he said, a teasing tone in the word. "You don't suppose you have a box of thin mints lying around, do you?"

A strange sense of nostalgia came over you as he lifted the old Girl Scouts uniform, the familiar shade of green bringing back a whole wave of memories. "I forgot I even had this!" you exclaimed, taking it from him. "I wonder if it still fits."

Steve couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him. "Curious minds think alike."

Your raised brow from earlier returned, a look of sarcasm taking over all your features.

"Hey, you know what? I think my Boy Scouts uniform is the storage closet. Why don't we try these bad boys on and see if they could work for our costumes this year?"

You snickered, holding the ensemble up in front of you. "I doubt this fits suitably enough to be seen by the general public, but hey, you'll never know if you don't try."

And with that, he was heading down the hall for his own uniform, leaving you to squeeze into the fabric you hadn't touched since you were about fourteen.

You must've hit a growth spurt, you reckoned, because looking yourself over in the mirror, you realized that the outfit did its worst to decently cover you up. The skirt that used to hit just above your knees now barely covered your ass and the button-up that previously hid what little curves you had in middle school now had your tits all but spilling out of it.

"Damn, give a guy a warning next time," Steve chuckled behind you from the doorway.

You turned to face him, met with the sight of his uniform fitting just right. Sure, his shorts were tighter around his thighs than they would've been a few years ago, and the socks were closer to crew length than knee length. But for the most part, he looked okay. It was you who was left looking like a badge-covered slut. "How come you look normal?"

"You forget that Beverly kept me in that shit until they practically kicked me out," he chuckled, walking closer to you. "Enough about me and my mom. We should be talking about you." His lips inched closer to your ear, hot breath fanning around you. "How goddamn pretty you look in that skirt."

The words sent a shiver up your spine, despite how many times Steve reminded you that you were the prettiest girl on the planet. Still, you found a way to joke, "Are you sure that's appropriate talk for a Scout?"

He snickered, the sound warming you from the inside out. "You would've hated to have known me in my Scouts days," he laughed. Steve's hands moved to grip your waist, pulling you flush against him. His growing erection was evident as your bodies met, nearly bringing a blush to your cheeks. "God, I bet you had the best cookies in your whole troop."

"No, but…" the word lingered as one of your hands inched between your bodies. His mouth fell open in some mix of shock and pleasure as you grabbed his cock through the shorts, a teasing smile on your lips. "I was the first to get my camping badge because of how fast I could pitch a tent."

Steve leaned forward, leaving a ghost of a kiss where your shoulder and neck met, eliciting a desperate breath from you. "Why don't you show me then, princess?"

In an instant, your lips were on his, both of you fighting with the buttons of his shirt. You finally finished with his buttons as his knees hit the bed, prompting him to sit as you ripped the material off of him.

"By the way," he said in between kisses, "I don't want you to remove anything except those pretty panties of yours."

"Just between us," you started, moving away from him. You bent down in front of him, showing off your bare ass, before turning back to face him and pulling up your skirt. Sliding a hand down the front of your body, you slipped a finger between your folds, teasing both yourself and Steve. "I wasn't wearing any panties," you finished your statement from before, your finger dipping inside your aching hole.

Steve's hand jutted out to grab your wrist, stopping your ministrations. "Hey, no one gets badges without teamwork," he reminded you, pulling you back toward him.

His lips were back on you, trailing open-mouthed kisses down the expanse of your neck while you worked at the fastening of his shorts. He lifted his hips just long enough to help you shove his shorts and underwear off, the fabric hitting the floor with a soft noise that was barely heard over your heavy breaths.

Whines and moans floated out of your mouth and into Steve's as he lifted you onto the bed with him. One of his hands moved between your bodies, wrapping it around his cock and sliding the tip through your folds.

"Steve," you sighed, winding your hips against him, "please."

"Please what?" he asked, his dick still barely touching you, "I need to hear the words, princess."

"Need your cock, please," you practically begged, hips rutting once again.

Without another word, he was slipping inside your dripping core, already throbbing inside you. He let out a string of expletives as you slowly rocked up and down, beginning to create that perfect pace you both loved so much.

Desperate moans filled the air as you started to ride him, his hands roaming every inch of you. "God, you look so fucking pretty right now," he said, eyes raking up and down your form.

"You're not so bad yourself, camper," you managed to laugh. The sentence was cut off by a needy mewl as his cock hit that sweet spot inside you, your veins burning with pleasure as he hit it again.

Absolutely filthy noises filled the air of the bedroom as your bodies rocked together. The smell of sweat and sex was prominent, skin slapping against skin as you both searched for any form of reprieve.

A hand slipped under the material of your fanned-out skirt, the pad of his thumb quickly finding your clit. "Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, pistoning his hips hard enough to have you thinking about the bruises he was most likely leaving.

Your walls clenched around him, pulling him impossibly further into you, the stretch of him a feeling you couldn't get enough of. Steve's opposite hand gripped the supple skin of your hip, guiding you in the rhythm he craved.

Lips were on lips as you both searched for release, your hands gripping his shoulders as yours inched closer. Crescent moon shapes were surely being left in your wake, holding on to Steve for dear life as your climax approached.

"Is now a- oh, fuck, princess- a bad time to make a milk and cookies joke?" The words came out as grunts as you bounced up and down on him, pre-cum surely coating your walls.

Somehow, you giggled through your own string of expletives as you sought out your high, his balls slapping you with every movement. He twitched inside you, and the movement had you on the brink of cumming. "Steve, I'm gonna- oh."

The digit between your legs teased and rubbed your clit at the perfect speed, and it was just enough to send you over the edge. His name was falling from your tongue like a prayer, reminding him of just who made you feel that good.

A few more pumps of his hips and his seed was spilling inside you, both of you desperate and whiny as you rode out your highs. His fingers held tight to your waist as he helped you slow your erratic rhythm, purple spots surely forming under his fingertips.

Hot breaths fanned across his chest as you fell limp on top of him, deep breaths filling your ears as he came down from his wave of euphoria. A soft kiss met your sweat-sticky hair, his previous grip on you being replaced by the gentle touch of his fingertips grazing nonsensical shapes down your spine.

You were the first to break the silence, the words coming out puffy. "Well, Stevie, you have made me a very happy camper."

He chuckled, slapping your ass with what little strength he had left. "Well, in case I haven't made it clear, you aren't wearing this to the party."

Your mouth flew open in fake surprise. "No! Everyone deserves to see us in these outfits."

"The only tent I want you pitching is mine," he all but demanded, pulling you up for a long kiss, lips still swollen from your previous activities.

"As long as you promise not to buy any other girl's cookies," you smirked.

He snickered, your heart flipping at the sound. "I think I'll take you up on that offer, princess."

-> taglist: @dungeons-are-too-cold @rupsmorge @writer-in-theory @esoltis280 @liberhoe @wifeyreid @serenity-lattes-reads

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

‘realize’ for the word ask thingy!! -galaxy

I see this and I raise you:

Doll!Reader helping Ken realize that horses exist in Barbieland

..........

"You weren't kidding..we really did have horses here all along.."

"Glad you finally realized that, Ken." With a small chuckle, you turned back to your horse, taking the pink plastic brush to her mane as you gently combed through the fluff.

"There you go, girlie...how do you keep getting these knots, hm?" You cooed, to which she snorted in reply, seeming content.

All the while, Ken couldn't stop staring at you both in awe, still trying to process what he was seeing before his very eyes.

A horse in Barbieland.

If only he knew they existed here, too, before he decided to take over everything and reinvented patriarchy.

The one time you decided to come into town....was when this seemingly perfect paradise was rapidly transformed into "Kendom", where the Kens took over the dreamhouses and attempted to rewrite the entire constitution.

They attempted to brainwash you as they did other Barbies into servitude, but since you weren't a Barbie yourself...it didn't really work.

Yet Ken, aka Beach Ken who went to the Real World with Stereotypical Barbie and returned as a completely different person, tried convincing you to stick around, showing off all the horse-themed stuff he had.

Despite you being a doll literally centered around equine care, he kept talking over you, spouting nothing but inaccurate horse facts and firmly believing he knew more than you.

As far as he was aware..horses only existed in the Real World, where men rode them and owned them and were the ultimate symbols of manhood.

When he made a jab at your job and refused to believe it's your actual profession, you snapped and nearly ripped his horseshoe chain necklace off of him, embarrassing him in front of all the other Kens, before you called out to your horse.

His jaw dropped as he saw her appear out of nowhere, and you mounted her and glared at him, mockingly asking if he still believed they're only from the Real World. Then you galloped all the way back home, refusing to hear his response.

You haven't returned since, and he struggled to maintain his image as a manly and "cool" leader after that revelation was dropped on him like an anvil.

After all was said and done, and Barbieland was restored to its former glory, Ken decided to go look for you. After realizing that patriarchy didn't make him happy, he wanted to make amends (and see your horses, but mostly make amends) and admit that scorning your job was shitty.

He kept rehearsing what he was going to say during the long walk to your home....but ended up faltering at your doorstep, becoming an anxious wreck until you let him in.

You weren't inclined to, at first, although seeing as he no longer wore that stupid mink coat and instead had a tie-dye hoodie that said "I Am Kenough", you figured he finally had some sense knocked into him.

Plus, the fact that he walked all this way was surprising..until you remembered Kens didn't drive cars or use bikes.

Even so, it's obvious that he genuinely wanted to make things right.

So both of you talked for a while, with him concluding that he felt stressed and unsure of what to do with his life now that Barbie's out of the picture.

He felt like he didn't belong anywhere near her dreamhouse, and he wasn't ready to go back to the Real World anytime soon. He just felt...stuck.

You didn't have too many words to comfort him with, given you've never been there and you've never dealt with the complex human emotions he just started experiencing himself.

But you did know how to cheer him up.

So you took him outside to one of the fenced arenas at your ranch, whistling for your horse, and she came trotting over.

Ken was awestruck, watching you tend to the gentle creature as you finished brushing her mane. He stepped closer to the fence, unsure of what to do or what to say...or even if he was allowed to be this close.

However you could see the look in his eyes, and the hesitancy in his body language, and ultimately relented.

You couldn't stay mad at him for eternity.

"You can pet her if you wanna."

He blinked in surprise, before looking at your horse again and cautiously reaching out to her face. For a moment she stared at him, and the abrupt snort made him flinch away.

"I-I...don't think she likes me.." He frowned.

"It's okay, Ken. She only acts like that 'cuz you're reaching for her mouth and don't have any food. Here. Let me help."

You took his hand, ignoring the way he stared at you with a growing blush on his face while you guided him. But eventually his focus shifted back to the horse as he felt soft fur beneath his fingertips, eyes widening as he looked to see his hand resting just above her nose.

Her ears flicked to the side, though besides that..she didn't react in any hostile way.

He was in childlike amazement, gently petting her and brushing his fingers through her mane. And you stepped back, allowing the two to bond, before noticing the tears welling up in his eyes.

"Are you alright?"

"Y-Yeah...this is just awesome. She's nothing like the ones on those stupid TVs we had."

"Nope. They can't compare to her." You chuckled, leaning against one of the posts with a warm smile. "She's the real deal."

[helplesslyblue77]

Snow White Lily

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

Pairing: Step Dad!Bang Chan x Reader

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

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

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

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

♔♕♔

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Darling, please welcome your new father.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

♔♕♔

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

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

“She must not accept this new man.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

♔♕♔

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

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

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

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

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

♔♕♔

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

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

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

“Name, please sit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Name are you alright? Does it hurt?”

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

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

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

“I refuse to go.”

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

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

You interrupt, your heart beating in your ears. 

“I refuse!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can't! I won't!”

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

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

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

“I hate you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Shhh, I know. I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

♔♕♔

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready to depart?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You like raspberries?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chan jumps to his feet. “Time to go?”

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

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

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

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

♔♕♔

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

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

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

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

“You must be my new master.”

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

“Your master?”

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

“You can be the object of his affection.”

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

“Tell me! Tell me this instant!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I should have never listened to that mirror.”

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

♔♕♔

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

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

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

Your perfectly made bed. Your dreadfully empty bed. 

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

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

♔♕♔

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cold and silent as your mother had been. 

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

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

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

♔♕♔

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

♔♕♔

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I'll see what I can do.”

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

Chan can't help himself, he rushes forward. 

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

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

“Yes, cursed apple. But…”

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

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

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

Chan frowned, questions spilling from his mouth. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“True love’s kiss?”

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

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

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

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

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

♔♕♔

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

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

“I'm hungry.”

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

“What's wrong?”

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

Chan asked the first question. 

“Why did you go into the woods?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It's you, sire.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so he does. 

♔♕♔

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

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

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

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

♔♕♔

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

[corporatefrog]

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

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

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

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

masterlist

Stan

Most skater aesthetic out of them all

even though he doesn't actually know anything

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

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

Much better at roller blading

but he'll NEVER admit it

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

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

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

"Yeah okay dickwipe."

"THATS RICH COMING FROM A GAY ASS"

"It's literally pride month bro"

Kenny

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

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

“Dude it’s okay if you can’t-”

“NO MAN I CAN! KAREN SAW IT!”

Like okay bro you can do an ollie

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

Gets the most hurt

mainly because he doesn't care

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

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

Butters

Stan and Kenny try to teach Butters how to skate

turns out he doesn't really need their help

Butters ends up being 100x better than them INSTANTLY

Its the hawaiian blood

paddle boarding translates very well to skateboarding

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

“I both hate you and idolize you right now”

“Stan close your mouth before a mosquito flies in”

You ask Butters to teach you and Kenny is AGHAST

Granted Butters is a shit teacher 

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

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

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

Kyle

Kyle skates pretty fine

He and Ike were HUGE zeke and luther watchers fs

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

He always wears elbow and knee pads though

The others (cartman) give him shit for it

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

The only one that can actually do an ollie

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

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

"No."

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

"No."

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

"I regret telling you anything."

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Plastic Hearts - (24)

<<<Prev Next>>>

---

They said the end is coming

Everyone's up to something

I find myself running home to your sweet nothings

---

There was only two ways this was going to go and Ken had prepared for both of it. He had secured a ride with the Nomads back to base, but with the way Ash’s eyes gleamed for revenge anyone who couldn’t tell he had a plan of his own, was foolish. So as he laid his arm over the side of the car feeling the dusty breeze, Ken had to prepare a game of his own.

He slipped Allan a note he had written when he spent the night in his tent, before you had joined him, one with a strategy to get the vials to weird Barbie and also to secure a safe passage for you, if in case something went wrong. Noting that now everything was plunged into a sense of uncertainty, he had to fall back to coming to terms with a possibility that he didn’t want to dwell on too much.

The Barbie driving the car seemed to be more focused on the road and following orders from Ash, who was seated in the passenger seat, that it gave Ken a narrow window to set up the dominoes for his alternate plan. He quietly opened the flap to his satchel, the vials were still intact, the water in it still held its mirror like quality.

He settled into the seat with relief. Slowly, he pulled out the two tubes, making sure it didn’t clink against each other and placed it safely into Allan’s hands.

Allan quietly secured them within his jacket pocket and patted on it, signing to Ken that it was safe. Ken tilted his head in a slight nod before he got set on his next step as he watched Allan read the note he had passed.

He struck up a conversation with Ash, pretending to want a more clearer understanding on how he could pass you over to the nomads, asking questions with an underlying trap of getting into their heads.

The note he gave to Allan was instructing him of two things. To pass the vials on to weird Barbie in a chance he was unable to. And the second, arguably the most important, was to make sure you got to go home no matter what happened.

Allan found his gaze with worry in his eyes but Ken looked away. He had to be realistic. He had to prepare for the worst and the worst being …

He hated the thought. There just wasn’t enough time. There never was.

He caught sight of the dark horizon line come to life with a flaming orange sky. His fingers laced together, he wanted to go home. Now it was difficult to seek comfort without thinking of you. It felt like a thousand needles beginning to prick his heart all at once.

Approaching the now faded city, the rebel base looked prepared for their arrival. Rebels lined the edge of the entrance as they monitored the nomads and their movement. He only wished now that you stayed where you were. Then all he had to do was send Allan in under the pretext that he was getting you out, to then with the help of the rebels out here to try to take on Nomads to buy you time.

-

“I need you to stay here.”, weird Barbie stated but you couldn’t just sit here.

“No.”, you replied as you fastened your belt and threw on a jacket.

“There are so many variable pieces in motion and all this has only one sole purpose, Ken’s the bait you’re the prey.”, she explained and you knew too but it just didn’t seem fair. To have to sit out, to have him bear the brunt of it all while you were put in a glass box.

“Precisely, I'm going to give them what they want.”, you said, your body tensing up at the fact that Ken was in danger.

“That could put everyone at risk. Ken –

“Ken’s been risking his life, for me. You can’t just tell me to sit this one out, because I won’t.”, you turned to her eyes blazing.

“I won’t forgive myself if he, if he…”, you couldn’t bring yourself to finish that sentence, weird Barbie sighed as though she had solved the reason behind your outburst.

“It all makes sense now.”, the edge of her lip tipped up as she pushed away from her seat.

“He’s in love with you and you’ve fallen all over again.”, she shook her head as she smiled.

The thrum of your heart only seemed to pick up more, to now beat with purpose. But the happiness in her smile faded to only be left with sadness.

“Oh Ella, there’s something you should know.”, she began but a harsh knock on the door drew your attention away.

“They’re here.”, Midge alerted you and weird Barbie.

Nothing else mattered. He was here.

What was there to know?

That falling in love with him was a bad idea?

It always was.

But you couldn’t control it. He was springtime, when he was around your winter disappeared on its own. He was soft like the sunset, he was the moon in your dark nights. It was easy, it felt like you had known him for years, the moment his eyes found yours, it was as though the world disappeared.

It was a bad idea because you knew if you lost him, no one else could compare, he was irreplaceable.

So you made your way to the entrance, the harsh dry air wrapping it’s touch around you, you shielded your eyes against the sun when you caught a glimpse of his sandy blonde hair.

Backflip Ken had his eyes pinned on you, his ragged t-shirt and disheveled hair making him look all the more crazy but he stuck to his perimeter. He got out the car to recline against the bonnet.

But you only had your eyes set on one person and you didn’t have to fight for it, he had already set his sights on you. The soft smile spreading across his face like he was a man lost in the desert discovering water. Allan was the first to get out, his quick steps, his worried expression all of it only seemed to paint an alternate picture.

This didn’t seem like a gathering for a peace treaty, it was a trade off.

Ken’s the bait you’re the prey.

You were the exchange.

Maybe it was madness, maybe it was the verge of the world being at the end. But you only wanted to draw closer, to ease the palpitations, because with every second that passed, it felt like there was an evident part of the plot you were missing, somehow making him drift away from you.

Weird Barbie came to stand by your side just as Allan reached both of you. He was slick with how he opened his jacket, to place the vials in weird Barbie’s hands but she pulled him into a hug. Her eyes closing in relief knowing he was safe. But his attention was on you. He held onto the edge of your jacket just to make sure you weren’t going to slip out of his hold.

“You shouldn’t be out here.”, he spoke in hushed tones but your focus was on Ken. He got out the car, but only made it to the middle. His gaze telling you to leave.

“We’ve got the vials, get the skates. You need to go home.” Allan continued which now seemed more like an order.

“Why isn’t he coming in?”, you took a step forward but Allan held you back, his hold on your arm tightening.

“I promised him to get you home.”, was all he said when all these hidden motives in this game that was out of your reach began to bother you.

“Why isn’t he joining us, Allan?”, you asked fighting against his hold.

“He’s going to hold them off for us.”, he said, his voice resonating with the defeat you felt in your bones.

The nomads were everywhere, he wouldn’t last in a fight with those odds, let alone face them all on his own. There was a limit to which he could be self sacrificial and this was that. This wasn’t part of the plan. You were in it together. You had an equal right to protect him too. So you broke free from Allan’s hold.

Your feet knew where to go, your fingers wanted to hold him again as you ran across the open ground, your eyes began to blur. How dare he. How dare he come up with this ridiculous attempt to save you.

He stood with his shoulders slumped in the middle, between the rebels and the nomads. His plan was failing and he was unable to come to terms with the ending. His wants and desires where never brought into question. It was always going to be this way. So why was it that he stood there waiting to feel your arms around him one last time?

You crashed into him, your cheek pressed against his chest, his hands wrapping around your waist as he held you tight, the world grew silent and you could feel the wet stains on your skin. There was nothing to hide now.

“You lied to me.”, you spoke into his chest and it broke his heart.

“I need you to go back inside.”, he whispered, his lips touching the edge of your ear.

“Then you’re coming with me.”, you wound your fingers around his wrist, his heartbeat rapid and quick.

“Brie.”, he fought his feelings that were beginning to tear through his calm demeanor.

“Let me make this right.”, you held his hands together, thinking of any excuse to get him to change his mind.

“I promised. I promised to not leave your side.”, you paused, your eyes scanning his to get him to agree, to stop this foolish act.

“We can take them together. The rebels are armed.”, you reached to trace his cheek, he leaned into it. The wounds of his face were still fresh.

Maybe he still has a chance. That his fate wasn’t decided by magic and rules. He smiled, any chance to walk away from this with you, he was going to take it.

“So, we fight then.”, he placed his forehead on yours.

“We fight for us.”, you whispered, a laugh escaping you despite the dire situation.

“You’re taking too long buddy.”, he heard Ash’s impatience.

“Actually, I’ve changed my mind.”, Ken turned to face him, his hand holding you behind him protectively.

Ash yelled out in frustration as his raging gaze found you. He paced back and forth.

“Fine. No more diplomatic solutions.”, he warned as he shrugged his shoulders. But as he said it explosives set off.

A war zone. That was were you were now, but this time you weren’t running. You were going to fight. You pulled out your weapon, it activated into a pole that had a taser in the end.

Nomads began to circle in on you and Ken, their focus mostly resting on you.

But this was Barbieland after all, anything was possible if you believed in it.

So you got into a defensive stance, your back pressed up against Ken’s as he held out his fists, ready to take anyone down.

And with that, it was a flash of electricity, the smelled of charred fabric and the whish of his hands slicing through the air.

“I never knew you could fight.”, you spoke over your shoulder to feel his low laugh reverb through you.

“I got jumped once. Took a few classes and trained in defensive arts.”, he threw you a look before he ducked from a kick.

You got low to swipe a Barbie’s feet causing her to stumble, using that moment you drove your taser in till she couldn't get back up.

“How does a chef know how to fight?”, he asked as he threw a punch.

“Come on Ken, always be afraid of a chef and her pans.”, you laughed. Somehow even in the thick of a fight, there was this sync. In how he moved with you, as though you could track and shadow eachother’s steps. The magnetic pull to him grew intense, as if you were stuck in a vacuum.

When you looked around, no one was standing. You stopped to catch your breath as he looked at you, a triumphant smile on his face.

This was it. The other’s were being taken care of by the rebels, but his pocket grew hot. It was where he had put the crystal from the mine.

Before he could reach for it, he felt pain seep through his side, only to see a dagger plunged into his body. Ash stood beside him. Ken’s gaze turned to you, his voice seemingly getting lost in his throat.

You turned to ask Ken if he was interested into making this relationship long term, forever in fact. There was no point in hiding and wasting time when you knew that he was the one. But your heart stopped, to see him now crumbled to his knees, his shirt seeped dark brown. Behind him stood a manic Ash who was stepping towards you.

"How does that feel?", he seethed.

"To lose your twin flame in a second?", he drawled as he cornered you.

You fell back as you tried to get away from him as Ken reached for you, his eyes shedding tears holding back the pain.

Ash was going to get you, you were sure of it.

“Because of you, I’ve lost it all. My home, my love, everything.”, he spit out but as he brought down the dagger, he missed your form, then stumbled and fell.

He laid next to you, fast asleep.

You scurried away from him but as you looked around you, everyone was beginning to fall asleep, the sky had begun to flow in reverse. The whole scene had frozen to have individuals collapsing where they stood.

You then found weird Barbie, hold an empty vial, its content spilt over the doomsday skates that Allan held.

The skates had begun to restore itself so that only meant one thing, you were out of time.

You turned back to Ken who laid on his back clutching to his side. You yelled out for weird Barbie’s help. Both her and Allan rushed to your aid but it was hopeless now. He was there in front of you, his hand reaching for yours.

“Save him, bring a med kit.”, you said frantically, your hands holding his.

"I can’t.", weird Barbie said, her voice quivering. Allan looked like he was in shock, his eyes roaming over Ken's leaking injury.

"We’re all still dolls but he’s human. That's what I've been trying to tell you.", she said in an urgency that was mixed with wonder.

"His wish wasn’t real but somehow his love for you made it possible.", she elaborated but your mind was racing with ways in which you try to help him.

"Brie.", his soft course tone brought you out of your thoughts.

"How do I save him?", you pleaded, looking towards weird Barbie in the hopes of an answer.

"The reset.", she said with certainty.

"You have to complete the spell.", she pointed towards the skates that were now fully restored.

"It will send you back and restore him to how it was.", she explained and knowing that wasn't much use. This wasn't how it was supposed to end. This was supposed to be a new beginning but now it was rather a goodbye.

"Brie, I got everything I’ve ever wanted with you.", he struggled to speak between his gasps for air but he held you close.

"This has always been the end of my story.", his eyes softened when they found yours, you shook your head. He had wanted to live, he wanted so much more and it was all hard to believe when he was trying to convince you with tears in his eyes.

"But you need to go home.", he said finally.

"I can’t.", you broke down.

"You are my home.", you pulled his hand up to your chest, your heart was no longer held together anymore. You lean further to hug him, unwilling to let go. It wasn't fair, that he had saved you but you couldn't do the same.

"Like any fairytale, true loves kiss seals the spell.", Allan finally spoke, as he placed his hand on your shoulder to reassure you.

You pull away from Ken, but he doesn't let you move too far before his hand cups your cheek.

The light in his pocket began to grow bright, its pure white light beginning to touch everything around you. Allan slowly fell into a sleep and finally weird Barbie did too.

Now it was only you and him.

"I’ll always remember you", he whispered and you couldn't fight against him anymore. He pulls you in to kiss you, with a passion and force that he wanted to experience as much as he could.

You felt his soft lips on yours and you stayed in that moment holding onto his hands on your cheek as long as you could, the white light grew brighter that it finally blinded you.

---

Firstly, pls forgive me. Secondly, the story still continues 👀

Never say never

Tags:

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[opertabry]

hits different - huh yunjin

it’s hits different cause it’s her

warnings : a curse word here and there

genre : angst with happy ending..?

wc : 638

it’s been months since you last saw yunjin, but you still wash your hands of her at the club. everyone could see, she made a mess of you. you kept on picturing her with other girls, in love. and you don’t know if the nausea was from the picture of her lips on someone else or the alcohol, then you threw up on the street. your friends having to drag you back home because you passed out on the side of the road.

her love was like waiting for a bus that never shows, so you just end up walking. you didn’t know if it was worth it, but they say if it’s right, you just know. and every bar you go to, they play your song. the song that you used to dance to, scream to in the car, the song that you listened to when you shared earphones. and you feel so wrong hearing it now without her.

“oh, my, love is a lie.” shit your friends say to get you by, but this was not like all your other breakups, it hits different this time. they used to be catastrophic blues, moving on was always easy for you to do. but now since its yunjin, it’s grey, emptiness, nothing. it hits different, cause it’s her.

you were barbie and you used to always switch out your kens so easily, you’d just ghost them when they fell and you’d rip off the bandaid to just run away with their hearts, like some asshole outlaw. freedom felt like summer on the coast then. but after loving her, freedom was winter, you and her all snuggled up at home, sharing a blanket, drinking hot chocolate and the union of lips. you thought freedom would be summer again, but the sun just burns your heart and the sand hurts your feelings.

you never didn’t cry at the bar, your sadness is contagious. and now you slur her name until someone puts you in a car. and you stopped getting invitations to anything, because all you were ever known to do was cry over yunjin.

“oh, my, love is a lie.” shit your friends say to comfort you. but it hits different, it hits different this time. cause it’s her. it’s huh yunjin, the girl you recklessly gave your heart to.

you find the artifacts, and as you delved deeper, you cried over a hat. the hat she always wore whenever you went on your late night connivence store runs. the artifacts that made up your relationship with her. you cursed the space that you needed, you regretted telling her that you needed a break. and as you hold the hat, you trace the evidence and try to make some sense of why your wound is still bleeding, even after so long. she was the one that you loved, you didn’t need another metaphor, it was simple enough. every wrinkle in time, the endless date ideas she had, was like a crease by her eyes.

you dream of her hair, the way she stared at you as if you put meaning into her life, her sense of belief in the good in the world. she once believed in you, you felt her and held her for a while. and as you wipe your tears and put down the hat, you hear a key turn in the door, down the hallway. was that her key in the door? is it her? or have they come to take you away?

“oh, my, love is a lie.” shit you say to ground yourself, she hits different this time. since she came back, yunjin felt it, the difference in the way you kiss her, how you melt into her embrace, how you hold her for a second longer than usual. your love hits different this time.

this one’s kinda bad but idk it made me happy in a way

[baker-coded]

Barbie and Ken {S.H.}

𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: Steve Harrington x reader

𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 870

𝓢𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂: Steve sees you for the first time in a while at the bookstore while getting a present from Robin.

𝓐/𝓝: I wrote this in an hour. Be nice. Also I'm back to writing again so woo fucking hoo. This is set up to be a series btw. And Barbie isn't reader's name but I really hate typing {Y/N} personally. It feels unnatural to me. Anyway. Enjoy <3

Ah yes, Steve Harrington. He goes by many names. "Steve". "Steven". "The Hair". "King Steve". And, sometimes, simply "Harrington" by teammates and coaches... and rivals. Most notably Billy Hargrove.

But this story isn't about those two.

It's about you. And Steve.

You've gone by a few names yourself in your high school years and post-high school it's like no one bothered to learn your name.

"Queen Barbie" is what they called you. "Queen Barbie" was known as a sweet girl by most people and regarded as a bitch to others. But nothing played into your "Barbie" persona as much as your love for the color pink and the smile that constantly adorned your face.

Always smiling even while you worked. It was a job you loved in all fairness. A bookstore. Quiet. Not a lot of people passing through. And you loved it.

The bookstore was a nice change of pace from high school. It was small and family owned. Not by your family of course, you and your family had... issues to say the least. But that's a story for another time.

In school you wore hot pinks and baby pinks paired with white or gold. Working you went for more muted pinks. But pink is pink and nothing has made you less "Queen Barbie".

And nothing made Steve less "King Steve".

Especially when he came in to buy Robin a book for her birthday. If anything that made him better in your eyes. Steve was always kind to you but you never were into him like everyone expected you to be. He was sweet to you but you knew he was kind of an asshole to others.

He came up to the counter with a copy of Patience and Sarah. You saw the book before him and got excited about it.

"Oh this is a wonderful book. Good choice." You said happily as you took it. You turned the book on its back and put the price in the register as you spoke. "It's about a woman and her lover, who's another woman. One of the main characters is pretty masculine and she eventually 'transitions' to a man kinda. Then she goes by- You know what? I'm sorry. I'm rattling on. Uh... it's five nineteen."

Steve just smiled and nodded at you as he got out his wallet. "I didn't know you read that much Barbie."

Your head snapped up to see Steve, in all his glory. His hair was shorter than you remembered, maybe a bit flatter. He was definitely more muscular but you didn't really know what he's been doing to be so much stronger looking.

You hadn't realized how he had freckles in school. They looked good. And he had the prettiest eyes. And he also-

"Uh... receipt?" Your mouth stopped your thoughts. Auto pilot can really be a bitch sometimes.

Steve seemed to be in the same boat. He looked startled when you asked. "Oh, uh, yes please. It's a gift for a friend."

You smiled and handed him the receipt. "I think we have gift wrap in the back. I can wrap it for you!" You offered, totally not still thinking about his eyes and freckles.

Steve's eyes widened as he nodded. "Please. Their birthday is tomorrow."

"King Steve doing something last minute? I'm surprised!" You teased. "I'll go wrap it."

You took the book and went into the back room to wrap it. It wasn't official wrapping paper. It was just brown paper with book covers printed on it. You put a "To/from" sticker on it and came out with a sharpie.

Steve was standing awkwardly by the counter and his face lit up when he saw you with the now wrapped book. He went to grab it from you and you pulled the book back.

"I remember your handwriting." Was all you said to him. You set the book on the counter and took the lid from the sharpie. "Who's it for?"

"Robin Bobbin Buckley."

You blinked at him in confusion. "Is that their name or...?"

"It's more of an in joke."

"Cute."

You could have sworn Steve's cheeks turned pink slightly but you had no idea. You knew he didn't really blush so it was hard to decipher if it was blush or the summer heat was seeping into the store.

Steve rocked back and forth for a few moments as you wrote down what he told you. You had barely finished when he blurted out: "Barbie let's go on a date."

"What?"

Steve stumbled for a second before finally getting out a coherent phrase. "Date. Me. Please?"

You smiled and handed him the book. "How about in two days yeah? Your friends birthday is tomorrow."

Steve smiled and took the book from you. "I can do that. That works. Movies?"

"Just like school."

"Exactly Barbie." He chuckled. "I know how much you love drive-ins and milkshakes."

"It's fun!"

"I agree! That's why Saturday at 8 is going to be the perfect time."

"I can't wait Steve."

Steve left the store as casually as he could before absolutely freaking out in his car. He couldn't believe he got you. And he was gonna do his damnedest to keep you.

[sanyu-thewitch05]

I feel like there aren’t as many “dominant/sadistic” female reader stories. Like don’t get me wrong, I love dominant men, but let’s make that story a bit more spicy…So here’s another idea I had…Male Yandere Fiancé X Female Sadistic Reader

Darling grows up from a prominent old money family, and from young childhood was put into an arranged marriage with one of her father’s longtime friend’s son (who was the same age, and also from a old money family, hence the arranged marriage). Darling was born with a sadistic streak (inherited from her mother, cause we gotta love generational femme fatales), and just thought “why not play what’s already been promised to me?” So she decides to cruelly play with her fiancés feelings even at a young age. (Goes the whole gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss route). For example, fiancé (the yandere), falls in love with her easily since Darling easily manipulates him. Once fiancé is hooked, Darling abuses him into becoming her “ideal man,” forcing fiancé to workout relentlessly, spend countless days/nights studying to become more intelligent, perform extravagant acts of love/devotion to her, etc. Fiancé is pushing himself to the limits in every which way for Darling, because if he doesn’t, Darling is threatening to break off the engagement and leave him forever.

Last day of college arrives (it was agreed between the two families that after the kids graduated college, they’d get married asap), but Darling being the cruel thing she is, makes out with another man in front of yandere fiancé and declares that she loves the new man more and wants to marry him instead. The new man is the total opposite of yandere fiancé (physically weak, lowest ranking in each class, from a “poor family/ugly,” etc.) and in a sense Darling breaks yandere fiancé’s psyche, cause what has he been working for his entire life now? Yandere fiancé snaps and sets a plan into motion to get his Darling to stay with him, because no matter what she does to him, he will always love her (he’s absolutely delusional and off the rails). After all, he’s going to make sure he gets his fairy tale happily ever after. 

So maybe in the end he does become the “dominant” one, or maybe Darling is still the “dominant” one. Who knows? But I hope this idea of a story could have some fun exploring various power/relationship dynamics, and how they can spectacularly backfire. I hope you can have fun with this one too! <3

TW: Noncon, manipulation, corporal punishment

You always liked Barbies. You love the fact their Ken's are just dolls to them. Another accessory to their closet. Their only job is to be a fool in love.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" Lucian, your future fiance, says.

"Playing with dolls," You reply, looking at him.

17 years have gone since then, and Lucian has shaped up quite nicely. You planted little suggestions about what you liked in his head, and he eagerly followed like a horse trying to eat a carrot waving in front of its face. He wears contact lenses because you hate brown eyes. He dyed his hair blonde, changed his style, and even got on steroids for a while to bulk up for you. If he didn't, you'd threaten to end the engagement.

Now, you're in your senior year of college. You're an A+ plus student and a vivid party girl as well. Lucian never knew about you sneaking out from his eye to party all night. He never knew about all the guys you hooked up with. The poor boy would be furious if he knew you fucked with the guys who were antithesis to him. Dumb, jock, alcoholic, trouble, everything he thought you hated.

"Oh, Jeremy, you've gotta try this jungle juice! It's amazing!" You exclaim, practically hugging your jock boy toy Jeremy.

"I know it's amazing. I made it," Jeremy laughs, turning you around and kissing your neck.

You kiss Jeremy's lips and make out with him. You didn't even know kissing Jeremy was your metaphorical kiss of death.

"God, I wanna marry you," You coo as Jeremy snaps your bra strap.

Now you've signed your death warrant.

"How could you?" Lucian mumbles, crushing his red party cup.

"Jeremy, let's head to your bed," You whisper, kissing his neck.

He leads you to his room, and Lucian takes advantage of the large crowd to pull you away. Lucian drags you outside despite your complaints.

"Luci, what the hell are you doing?" You drunkenly say, trying to get your hand free from Lucian.

"Listen to me! You're not going to treat me like I'm some doll anymore. I've changed myself beyond recognition for you. I've obeyed your every order. You're going to love me!" Lucian snaps, throwing you into the passenger seat of his car.

"Don't threaten me. Dogs don't growl at their masters," You hiss, making Lucian stop the car.

Lucian unbuckles your seatbelt and slaps you across the face.

"You're going to respect me for once in your life," Lucian monotonously says, buckling you back in and driving back to his apartment.

You stay silent for the rest of the ride until Lucian carries you inside. You don't know what's wrong with you. You would never let someone, especially Lucian, treat you like this. Where did your wits and words go?

"If you even think of trying to run away or stop me, I will tell your parents all about your dirty alcohol and party drugs addiction. Mommy and daddy tolerate lots of things, but they won't tolerate their junkie daughter spending their money on drugs to party," Lucian threatens, putting a change of clothes next to you. "Now, change. I don't want you sleeping in my bed smelling like booze and sweat."

You nod your head and change into fresh clothes.

"Lay across my lap," Lucian commands, rubbing your butt. "Call me my love, master, sir, or my name. Do you understand, pet?"

"Yes, sir."

Lucian takes off his belt and slams it across your ass. You flinch, but Lucian holds you still.

"Sir, please stop," You whimper, trying to hold your tears.

"Pets don't disobey orders," Lucian says, slamming his belt across your butt again.

"Sorry, sir."

Lucian spanks you fifty more times, and each time is worse and more pleasurable than the last.

"Ah, master!" You moan, cumming onto Lucian's pants.

"Damn it, you messed up my pants!" Lucian groans, pulling your pants down.

"I'm sorry, master!" You yell, Lucian pulling your hair back.

"Suck my cock, pet."

"Yes, my love."

You kiss and lick Lucian's cock. It shivers with every touch, and your soon-to-be husband grabs the back of your head and forces your mouth to take his whole dick. You gag on it for a while, then get used to it. He pushes your head so far down that your lips touch his balls. Once your lips touch his balls, he cums into your mouth and yanks your hair back to get your lips off his cock.

"You've learned your lesson?" Lucian asks, holding your head up by the hair.

"Yes. I'm sorry I manipulated you!" You cry, your mascara running, leaving black streaks.

"Good. You're mine, and we'll be married once we graduate. You're going to respect me for once in your miserable life."

Lucian lets go of your hair, and you faceplant onto the mattress.

"Now then, let's have some good bonding time. I don't want our relationship to be like it was when you were still in control. No manipulating you into someone else. No cheating on me with someone else. Just our true selves," Lucian says, cleaning your mascara streaks away and kissing you. "I love you."