#(“lol” I say silently shaking in my boots)

[serenanymph]

how well would your ocs do against a cockroach tag game

rules: yeah that's it. that's the tag. idk if anyone has done this before but rate your ocs by how well they'd do against a cockroach.

gonna be a lil annoying and tag a biiiiit more people sorry lol. no pressure to join in tho!!! and anyone else who wants to can hop in. @lyssa-ink @reneesbooks @macabremoons @space-writes @squarebracket-trick @scribbling-stardust @toribookworm22 @lorenfinch @sapphos-scientist @e-klair @arctic-oceans @sidhewrites @loopyhoopywrites @hallwriteblr @talesofsorrowandofruin @cream-and-tea

(anyway the rest is under the cut bcuz I have a LOT of characters so I'm gonna go a bit insane. Pulling from Beast as always)

Crys: - doesn't bat an eyelash, kills it easily - merciless, 10/10

Icarus: - a lil startled, will jump if it flies at him, but manages to catch it and set it free outside - 8/10. this boi is too good for this world

Rhyme: - begins by trying to smash it to a pulp - rapidly gets more and more irritated when she keeps on missing - finally lets out a primal scream of rage and fireballs it - 6/10 because she nearly burns down the house

Sol: - lets out an undignified squeak - leaves the room - if it flies at him he's sprinting out of there - 3/10

Dahlia - rolls up a newspaper and whacks it a few times?? like a normal person??? - 9/10

Beatriz: - faints - poor bbg can't handle the terror - 0/10 - alternatively shoots her feathers and skillfully punts it out the window - so overall actually 5/10

Honorary mentions

Iri and Yuan: - incoherent screeching - KILL IT KILL IT WITH FIRE - both trying to get behind the other - so many feathers embedded in the floor. so many - Iri scales up Yuan's back and stays there on his shoulders like an overgrown squirrel - 0/10

Jorge and Jordan - they catch it - and store it with their dozen other cockroaches used to prank people - 10/10, but I'm docking points for the malicious intent

[annievrse]

the secret of us

chuuya x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: mori makes an unfortunate discovery w/c: 1.5k c/w: nsfw [mdni!!] (nothing too explicit just heavy petting & slight dry humping), secondhand embarrassment lol

"What am I going to do with the two of you?"

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Elise giggle, and you roll your eyes. You stay silent, and through sheer will, so does Chuuya.

"This is highly inappropriate, especially for two of my best executives," Mori sighs, rubbing his forehead. Your boss looks annoyed and flustered, considering the situation he just found you in. "Imagine if it was one of your subordinates."

"I would've told them to enjoy the show," Chuuya mumbles. Mori shoots him a disapproving look, and you shake your head without looking at him, trying your hardest to suppress a smile.

Half an Hour Earlier...

"Nakahara," You greet, stepping into the main meeting room at the Port Mafia base. You hold up a folder when he looks up from the table, surrounded by his subordinates.

Chuuya's eye glints when he says your name back. Then he turns to his inferiors, and his face morphs into a scowl. "Get out."

They all rush out around you, some tripping over their feet but all refusing to look you in the eye.

When the door finally closes, Chuuya flicks his hand out, the lock on the door turning.

"Got a report to give me, doll?" He teases, spreading his legs wide and patting his lap. "C'mere."

You twist your lips to stop a shy smile from breaking and walk toward him.

"Maybe," You say. "Maybe not."

The way he sits is intimidating, and if you hadn't known him for so long, you'd be scared of him. His chunky boots are on display, thanks to the hem of his pants rising. Your eyes flicker to his arms crossed over his chest, his lean biceps visible through the white material of his dress shirt. He must've removed his coat halfway through the meeting with his faction. And then your gaze drifts to his face. He wears a knowing smirk, and his blue eyes gleam in the setting sun through the large window. His hair looks particularly red in the warm light, and you want to brush the stray strands off his face.

Chuuya hums and guides your hips to sit on his lap. His gloved fingers are hot through the fabric of your pants, and you're sure your suit is going to burn off your body any second.

You place the folder on the table and shift so you're straddling his thighs.

He nods at the plastic sleeve lazily. "What's it about?"

You shrug. "Boss wanted me to bring it to you."

Chuuya nods and runs his hands up your thighs. You tuck his loose hair behind his ears, pushing some off his forehead.

"Quit that," He mumbles but makes no effort to move. You shake your head and brush your thumbs over his cheekbones. He says your name with a warning.

"Yes?" You ask, a smile on your face. Leaning forward, you press your lips against his forehead, then his cheeks, leaving red lipgloss marks in your path.

Chuuya scoffs in reply. "Brat."

You gape at him teasingly. "That's no way to talk to me."

"I guess you're right," He says, grabbing onto your ass before standing up and sitting you on the table. You bite your tongue to stop the yelp that climbs your throat at his sudden movement. "Guess I have to make it up to you."

"I guess you do." You exhale sharply when you feel his gloveless hands under your shirt. When did he take those off?

Chuuya's fingers dance on your back as you pull him closer by his bolo tie. Between your thighs, he presses himself against you, and you know you've teased him enough. Your legs circle around his hips, and you bring his face closer. Chuuya meets you halfway, lips crushing in a searing kiss. You lift your hands to his hair and slide his hat off, tossing it somewhere in the room.

Before he can pull away and complain or lecture you about the hat's intricate details, you find yourself breathing heavily from your nose as you exchange open-mouthed kisses. It’s hard and hungry, and soon, your coat is on the floor, your shirt following.

“Off,” You mutter against his lips, your fingers grasping his waist before fisting the material of his shirt and tugging it. “This needs to come off.”

"Where's your manners?" Chuuya snarls before pulling it over his head so there's no chance for you to break the buttons. He's replaced so many.

You don't reply, barely hearing him as you run your hands down his lean torso. Chuuya leans over you and pushes you gently onto the table. The wood is cold on your back, and you wrap your arms around his neck to bring his lips to yours.

He rubs his crotch against yours, and the delicious size of him makes you moan into his mouth. You tighten your thighs around him; the friction is so good it's almost painful.

"Fuck, doll..." Chuuya groans back, his fingers playing with the clasp on your bra.

You're so lost in your own mind and Chuuya's touch that you don't hear the lock turning and the door opening.

It's not until someone clears their throat and the breeze from the hallway causes goosebumps to gloss your skin that you're jumping up. You nearly headbutt Chuuya as you do so, arms retracting from his shoulders to cover your chest.

"The fuck?..." Chuuya spits, but his face drains when he sees who is at the door. "Boss—"

"Get dressed," Mori sighs. "My office."

And then he leaves, the shadow of him still lingering in the doorway as you button up your shirts in silence.

"Bets on whose getting fired first?" You say, picking up Chuuya's hat and putting it on your head.

"Shut it," He snaps, and you see the anger and lust in his eyes. Anger at Mori for barging in unannounced like this meeting room was your bedroom. Lust for obvious reasons. The sight makes you giggle.

"I hope he doesn't keep us long, I actually have a meeting at 5." Chuuya side-eyes you as you leave the room, pointedly ignoring your comment.

"Oh!" You pause in the hallway before Mori's office and turn to your boyfriend. "C'mere."

"Why?" His face screws up in irritation. And when you start wiping his cheeks, his face flushes red. "You just had to do that, didn't you?"

You tilt your head, wiping the last remnants of your lipgloss from his skin. "You're pretty."

Chuuya scowls and lets you kiss his cheek. "Let's get this over with."

Now...

Mori covers his face with his hands. "You know what this could mean for both of you if this gets out. Yes?"

Dread pours over your body like hot oil. Nodding, you glance at your boyfriend. His previous devilish look is gone, and in its place is carefully constructed fear that took you almost seven years to detect.

"It means," Mori says, assuming you and Chuuya don't know exactly what he's implying. "If anyone outside the PM finds out, they could use you against each other. Which is something this organisation doesn't need."

"Nobody knows," You blurt, wiping your sweaty palms on your dress pants. "We've told nobody about this."

Mori raises an eyebrow. "And how long has nobody known?"

If you'd been hiding this for no longer than a month, maybe you'd get out of this fine. Maybe Mori would understand and send you on your way unscathed. Maybe.

"Since we were sixteen."

Mori's mouth opens just a centimetre before he closes it again. He's stunned you've been able to keep this under wraps for so long. "Six years?"

"We are 22, yes?" You ask with a sickly sweet smile on your face. It's dangerous getting smart with the boss, but you're beyond uncomfortable and want to leave as soon as possible. You feel Chuuya's eyes burning a hole in the side of your face for being so careless.

"I see," Mori mumbles, ignoring the hysterical giggles coming from Elise. "Very well."

You raise your eyebrows at the lack of response. Chuuya visibly relaxes beside you.

"There's no way to punish you for this unprofessional behaviour, but if it's not affecting the organisation's function or your relationship with your subordinates, I don't care."

"But," Mori continues, his eye getting that authoritative glint. "You'll be assigned different missions from now on. There is to be no contact out on the field. Am I clear?"

"Dammit," Chuuya curses. "Are you kidding?"

"Yes, sir," You nod.

"Boss, that's bullshit, and you know it."

Mori ignores Chuuya and goes back to his paperwork. Your boyfriend huffs in frustration. The tension in the room pushes down on you, and when Mori dismisses you, clearly uncomfortable, you hurry out behind Chuuya, who takes his time opening the door and leaving.

Once outside, you grab Chuuya's shoulders and turn him around to find him wearing his usual smirk. He's pushed down the new rule for missions, but you know what he will say before it leaves his lips.

"You're not going to your meeting."

[vase-of-lilies]

❀ Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Bunny Hybrid!Reader (F)

❀ Non-con, dubcon, use of a cage, captivity + using restraints, violence, mind manipulation/putting someone in a daze, guys - fun fact; ivory was chiseled and made into a dildo in the 1800’s. So, expect that lol, and more. Do not read if you are uncomfortable with very dark elements. 

❀ I am usually good with warning everything that is in my stories, but this time due to limited space and a lot of warnings, I will be only doing the harsher warnings. 

❀ Disclaimer and Authors Note: The pictures only represent aesthetic and themes. There is no certain skin color, body type, ethnicity, or description other than Y/n and “you”. Credit to who made the pictures in the banner as well. 

❀ Sigh… I feel like all of these are the same, just a little different each time. I try to change it up, but a lot of these are similar in plot, description, and ending. I want these to turn out well, but I can’t help but feel that people don’t like them because they don’t comment on them or give feedback. All I want is a funny comment, a detailed comment about something someone loved about the story, or something that they were confused about or just thought was plain stupid of Y/n. All I want is feedback! 

Hunting season. It was the worst time of year for the bunny hybrids, yet still, you were picking berries in a bright dress your mother made you. You knew it was dangerous. However, you knew that you were fast and agile like a real bunny. But even the fastest rabbit couldn’t beat the slowest tortoise because of the overconfidence each little rabbit held in their little head. 

While you gathered the berries into your basket, you hummed to yourself, not a thought in your mind. Every now and then, your tail would twitch, something it does when you are doing something you love or when you are scared. But you loved gathering, and you were not currently scared. 

Your humming immediately stops when you hear the straining of an arrow in a bow. It was a creaky sound that every bunny could recognize. Your ears shot straight up, your head turning in all directions to try and find the source of the hunter. One last turn and it was too late; the bounce of the bowstring snapping back into place came first, then the pain of the arrow piercing through your shoulder blade. 

Falling to the ground, you frown as your berries scatter around you. You can hardly think while you scramble into the bush in front of you, holding your ears against your head so you don’t bring more attention to yourself. Your body trembles, rustling the brush you are hiding in, and you silently curse yourself at your shaking. 

“Here, little bunny… come out, come out wherever you are!” A voice taunts from outside the bush. You see the boots of your pursuer from where you crouch inside the bush, whimpering as the arrow in your back snags on a branch. 

The footsteps stop and turn towards the bush. You freeze, and your ears slip from your hands, rustling the bush even more. The hunter steps up to the bush, and she spots your gray ears. With a smirk, she reaches into the shrub and grasps them in her hands tightly, causing you to tumble from the bush and onto the ground.

Blood streamed down your back, and you tried to crawl away, only for the hunter to chuckle and reach in her pouch for something else. You look behind you, screaming as she stalks closer to you, a tranquilizer dart in her hand. 

“Come on, little bunny. Don’t make this difficult,” She says, kneeling beside your pitiful form. As you beg her not to hurt you, she ignores you, pushing your head to the side and exposing your neck. “Stay still, and this won’t hurt!” She shouts at you, still struggling to get you to calm down. As the dart comes closer to your neck, you struggle even more, but she is powerful and quick. 

The needle punctures your skin, and the tranquilizer enters your blood flow within seconds. It was initially slow, just a little dizzy, so you tried to get up. The pain in your back was the least of your worries, only getting away from the hunter on your mind. But the drug was working fast, and soon, you found yourself on the ground again, your eyes closing and your mind succumbing to darkness. 

~~~~~~~

Wanda smirks as you finally fall unconscious in front of her, your fuzzy ears flopping onto the ground with a soft thump. Your fluffy little tail was twitching again, terrified of what would happen. Wanda kneels down by your sleeping body and moves the hair from in front of your face. “You’re gonna be my perfect little pet, aren’t you?” She gently brushes her fingers over the skin of your cheek and smiles at your breaths. 

Laying a small blanket over your body, she picks you up and takes you home to assess your injuries. As she enters her home, she shuts the door and lays you on her bed. She frowns at the arrow that sticks from your back and gently tries to pull it out. You whimper, the drug unfortunately not numbing the pain. 

Wanda sighs softly and grabs her knife, slowly cutting the skin surrounding the arrow. She dabs the wound with a small cloth as it starts to bleed again, and once the last line matching the shape of the arrow is carved, the arrow slides out of your back with ease. Reaching for the first aid kit, she unties your dress and slips it off your body, dressing your wound and healing some of it with her powers. She leaves you in the right amount of pain to become submissive to her, but enough that your death will not be on her hands. 

Tying the last bandage around your chest and under your arms, she lays you on your back and grabs the chain connected to a metal collar from under the bed. She sets it on the bed next to you and goes to the closet to bring the cage out. She smirks at the bars, knowing you will never escape from her. 

Lastly, she connects the chain to the cage's base and looks over at you on her bed. She sets the collar on top of the kennel and saunters over to your naked form. She ghosts her fingers down your belly and the mound between your legs. Shaking her head, she knows she wants to wait until you are awake to hold your wiggling ears while you struggle to escape her. She loves it when her prey struggles in her hands; it sparks something inside of her.

Picking you up again, she carries you to the cage in the corner of the room, opening the door and laying you down against the thin-blanketed bottom and laying your head against the straw pillow set at the top of the cage. Before locking you up for the night, she grabbed the collar and clasped it around your neck, matching the holes together at the back and looping a padlock around it. With the collar secured around your neck, the chain connected to the bars, and the moon rising, Wanda locked the cage and put a blanket over the top to cover the whole thing, leaving you in complete darkness.

~~~~~~~

When morning approached, your body started to wake up first. Your mind was still hazy, and you felt like you were in a dream. Your ears moved slightly, your tail wiggled just a little, and your eyes moved under their lids. 

It was raining. You could hear the raindrops outside. Outside where? Where am I? Your curiosity turns to concern the moment your eyes finally open. A dark, furry blanket covers the bars surrounding you, dimming the light almost completely. You try sitting up, but the pressure you put on your arm makes you whimper in pain. The arrow wound on your back was the only thing revealing where you were. 

The tranquilizer made you sleep, but it didn’t make you forget. You remembered where you were, and you remembered who you were with. That damned human. A simple hum or chuckle could force you into submission instantly, knowing what Wanda is capable of. She has the eye of a hawk when it comes to aiming her bow at the poor little creature she sets her sights on. 

Your soft ears twitched at the sound of shuffling from outside of the covered cage, pulling your attention away from the pain in your shoulder blade. Wandas walking caused the blanket to flutter, and your instinct was to lay back down and pretend you were asleep still. You wrapped your arms around your exposed body the best you could, closed your eyes and waited. 

In anticipation, your leg started shaking, as well as your tail. The little ball of fluff just above your bum was a radar for danger. If it wiggled, twitched, shifted, or moved an inch, you could sense danger was near. This was a time when your tail was not wrong. Not by one bit. 

There was a soft knock on the bars above you, but you didn't move. Another one, this time a little forceful- still, you did not move to 'wake up.' 

"Little bunny… I know you're awake. You're shaking this whole damn thing." Wanda laughed softly at the shivering cage before her, your anxious body practically causing an earthquake around you. Your hands went to the collar around your neck, and a tear fell from your eye onto the pillow below your cheek. I'm not getting out of here.

Wanda pulled the blanket from the top of the cage and looked down at you, curled into a little ball with your fluffy ears over your face. "Oh, come on, don't hide from me," She says, kneeling in front of your prison. Aggravated, she grabs the chain connected to your collar and pulls, forcing your face to come right to the bars.

A whimper escapes your throat, and your eyes stare up at Wanda with fear. She smiles sweetly at you, her pearly white teeth giving you a shite-eating grin. “I know you're scared,” she says, holding the chain tighter. In response to your desperate attempts at escaping the collar, Wanda laughs. She leans in, her breath brushing against your face. “But don't worry,” she whispers. “I'll take good care of you.”

Your face flushed with tears, and you began to speak in a trembling voice, "I wanna go home; my momma will be worried about me." You thought of your mother, who would be excited to see you and looking forward to the pie she made for you. You missed her embrace and the warmth of her love. You wished to return, see her smile, and feel her passion. You closed your eyes and thought about what it would be like to be home.

"Don't you dare close your eyes," growls Wanda, causing you to open them wide. She looked at you with dilated pupils, clearly craving something. Something only you could give her. 

She finally releases the chain attached to your collar, causing you to fall back into the cage. You push yourself against the back of the cage, trying to distance yourself from Wanda as the pain in your back intensifies. With a chuckle, Wanda opens the door and reaches for the chain to pull you out. Yanking you out of the cage, you fall to your hands and knees, forced to crawl forward to her. 

Once you get into an arm's length of her, she grabs your ears and pulls you to her. You yelp, trying to cover yourself, but keep yourself up too. You can't feel much pain from your ears, but as she pulls you closer to her, the fear builds up in your belly, and you pull back. Failing, she wraps her arms around you and holds you against her chest. The chain is long enough to reach her bed, so as she picks you up, the chain drags behind you. You kick your legs and try maneuvering your way out of her arms, your body only being hugged tighter. 

As Wanda sits on the bed, she holds you in her lap. Her body is much larger than yours, as your hybrid genes make you smaller than humans. She only needed one hand over your belly to hold you still, your legs being pinned open by hers. Her other hand roams your naked chest, tweaking each nipple in her fingers. She buries her nose into your soft ears and hums as she feels your little cotton tail rub against her clothed cunt. 

You whimper and throw your head back any chance, but Wanda is quick. The chain is already in her hand, pulling it up and choking you. You cough, your hands going to your neck, trying to find the chain to pull down. Your strength is nothing compared to Wanda's; her chuckles fill your ears again. 

Your breaths are short and shallow, and the lack of oxygen getting to your brain becomes dangerous. Your vision starts to cloud, and Wanda notices, giving the chain some slack. "You aren't going out on me just yet," she whispers in your ear. On the bedside table, she grabs a ring of rope she had put there earlier. Grabbing your wrists, she wraps the rope around a couple of times and ties a firm knot after. She then pulls the excess cord to keep your hands next to your chest, exposing your pussy. 

She smiles against your neck, and her teeth nip at your sensitive skin. "Mmm, my little bun bun, so soft and cute," She whispers again, "I am going to do nasty things to you, and you are going to like it..." 

Pulling your hands above your head, she wraps the rope through your collar to keep them still. 

With her hands now free, she cups both breasts, kneading the ample skin and pinching your nipples every second. You whimper as salty tears stream down your cheeks, only fueling Wanda to do more. Her hand moves down your belly to your wet petals, waiting to be played with. As her other hand follows, her fingers spread your folds to expose your quivering clit. 

Even though Wanda could not see your pussy, she loved how it felt. "So fuckin' wet, and its all for me, isn't it?" You shake your head vigorously, not wanting to fall into whatever trap she had set. Her index finger slowly rubs your clit in small circles, the burning of your bundle of nerves causing you to whimper and jolt. She holds you tighter, smirking at the warmth of the skin around your bud. 

Her lips press soft kisses to your head as she rubs your clit more, her other hand prodding at your hole. A breath is stolen from you as she enters two fingers into your pussy, pumping slowly. You cringe at the squelching you hear, and your legs instinctively try to close, but Wanda's legs hold them open. You reluctantly lay your head against her chest, your ears falling limp against your head. 

Wanda quickly jumped on the opportunity to hold your head up by your ears, pulling them to hold your head up straight. Wanda's fist clenched your ears tightly, not letting go as you tried to tear yourself away from her. 

As she rubbed your clit faster, your orgasm approached more quickly than expected. Your pulsing pussy squeezes her fingers as you cum, her finger on your clit not stopping. It burned, and it hurt, but in such a good way. She continues to rub, pulling a second orgasm out of you, smirking as your juices squirt from your hole. 

The blanket before you shows a puddle of your own spend, and you whimper as she pulls your ears up again. "Good little bun bun, cumming for your master like a good girl," She lets go of your ears and moves her legs, uncaging yours in the process. Before you can scramble away, she pushes you to your stomach, turning you to the bed frame. Grabbing the rope from your collar, she pulls your hands up to the bars and ties another sturdy knot. 

You struggle, pull, fight, kick, but nothing stops Wanda from getting what she wants. She finishes securing you to the bed, and her hand harshly spanks your ass. You squeal and try to curl against yourself, but she hits you again. "Legs straight little one, or I'll tie those too." You listened, not wanting any more rough rope on your body. 

She was unpredictable. She spanked you a couple more times before smoothing her hand over the raw skin. Or she would pull your tail and ears and, shortly after, softly squeeze your fluffy tail at the base of your back. The tears had not stopped either, the pillow beneath your face soaked with the salty water from your eyes. 

Wandas' abuse finally stops after a couple of minutes, her hands softly squeezing your ass in her hands. You hurt; your ass is raw, your pussy is red and puffy, and your ears are on fire. She enters the small kitchen, washes her hands, and gets a glass of water. Setting the cup on the table next to the bed, she unties your wrists and helps you sit up. You whimper as the soft yet rough blanket rubs against the skin of your ass. 

The cup's rim hits your lips, and you look up at Wanda in confusion. Why is she taking care of you? You think to yourself. 

Not wanting to seem ungrateful, you take a sip of the cool water, sighing as it goes down your sore throat. Your screams did a number on you. Finishing the glass of water, Wanda smiles down at you and gently pets your fluffy ears. They twitch in response to her hands and instinctively move closer to her warmth and gentleness.  

"Good little bunny..." She says, reaching down to hold your hands. "Listen to me," She commands. "You are going to be good and sleep in your cage tonight. Then in the morning I can get you some clothes. How does that sound? Hm?" Letting go of your hands, they softly rub up and down your thighs. You don't answer her, only giving her a nasty look, resulting in a disappointing sigh from her. 

"Come on, lets go." She says, helping you stand by picking you up by your armpits. Once you are on your feet, she gently leads you to the cage and pushes you down by your shoulders. Your hands and knees hit the ground, and her hand softly pats your bum, hinting for you to crawl inside. You comply, moving into the cage and lying against the pillow. 

Sleep hits you like a wall, unaware the water was drugged. You see Wanda shut and lock the door, reaching through the bars to kiss your fingers. 

"Run, my little rabbit, run and play in your dreams. And when you wake up, we can get to know each other a little better." She whispers, softly holding your fingers that fall limply by the edge. Pulling away, she moves back to her bed, cleaning up the blanket with a wave of a hand. 

Stripping off her dress, she lays down and watches your sleeping body, fantasizing about everything she wants to do to you. 

 Thanks to the sun's early light, the room was bathed in a soft, golden glow, creating a calm environment. With a contented sigh, Wanda stretches her arms above her head, feeling relief as her spine cracks into place. She sits up, allowing her gaze to drift towards the cage in the corner of the room. A beautiful scene awaited her under a soft blanket—the outline of her little bunny sleeping peacefully behind the bars. 

The whisper of a soft, melodious voice fills the air, promising adventure and connection. You follow the sound, your ears twitching with curiosity. 

You dash through the meadow, encountering a figure, a large shadow surrounding it. It's an eerie, ghostly presence shrouded in an aura of ice and hatred. The figure emitted a terrifying, irresistible pull, hypnotizing you to come forward. 

As Wanda took in her adorable pet, she couldn't help but smile, knowing that her bunny was safe and sound, nestled in its cozy cage, surrounded by a world of love and care. Of course, that is what Wanda wants to create for you. Your feelings were most definitely not mutual. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she approaches the door to your prison, unlocking the padlock and opening the door. 

This bewitching being extends a skeletal hand, fingers adorned with grotesque, withered elegance, beckoning further from the meadow behind you. You approach carefully, drawn by an irresistible urge. The hand reaches down, petting your soft ears on your fluffy head.  

Instantly, you are transformed into the hybrid you are now, the world around you turning into a dark abyss. 

As you whimper in your dream, Wanda can't help but wonder what you're dreaming about. Is it a pleasant dream or a nightmare? She knows she shouldn't disturb you, but the temptation to playfully interact with your vision is too strong to resist. 

Tendrils of black smoke shoot from the figure, twisting and writhing like malevolent serpents, suffocating the air with dread. Your heart drops to your stomach, your naked skin pebbling with goosebumps. The figure stands there, the wind around you starting to pick up. Smoke transforms into a massive tornado above you, picking you up effortlessly and spinning you around. It pulls you towards the figure, a featureless face other than a mouth meeting your eyes. 

Your heart races with terror as the figure's mouth opens wide, revealing rows of sharp teeth. The smoke swirls around you, suffocating you, tightening their grip, making it impossible to break free. The closer you get to its mouth, the faster your heart beats and the quicker your breath becomes. 

Carefully, she reaches out her hand and gently touches your shoulder, curious to see how you'll react in your fantasy world.

Screaming is useless now, as it will only be silenced by the dream realm. Even your punches and struggles are slowed down by an invisible force. The smokey tendrils bring you closer to the figure's mouth in slow motion, and you undoubtedly know the inevitable outcome. With a sudden, horrifying lunge, the figure's jaws close around you, yet no pain is felt. Your vision is surrounded by darkness- 

You jolt awake at the feeling of Wands fingers against your skin, and your breaths come fast. You struggle to shake off the lingering fear from the dream, your eyes darting everywhere to find the source of touch. Once you see Wanda staring back at you, you instinctively shrink back, unsure of her intentions since the night before.

"Calm down, little rabbit, I'm not going to hurt you," She says, holding her hands up in a false surrender. "Come on out, bunny," Your ears twitch as her hand enters the cage, her fingers wrapping around your ankle. She pulls gently, trying to coax you from your spot in the corner of the enclosure. You don't budge.

Getting frustrated, she grabs the chain of your collar and pulls you out. Once you are out, she holds you by the ears and pulls you to her bed. "You listen to me!" She growls, crawling on top of your trembling form. In the blink of an eye, her demeanor changes completely. Her eyes no longer glaring at you, her mouth no longer degrading your behavior.

Her right hand softly caresses your tear-stained cheek, wiping away any stray tears that have fallen. Her fingers smooth over your [length, color, texture hair] hair and behind your bunny ears, which are relatively sensitive to feeling good. 

As she scratches, she smiles at your foot kicking from below her. "Aw, what did I find?" Wanda asks, persisting in scratching behind your ears. Once she stops scratching, she gently pulls your ears together and holds them in her fist. "Gosh, look how cute you are..." she chuckles at the little wiggle of your nose and looks over your face. 

She let go of your soft ears, a tender smile on her lips. Leaning down, Wandas' lips met yours in a gentle, lingering kiss. At first, you struggled, protesting to be this close to your captor. But once Wanda's fingers reached your neck, you surrendered. She gently squeezed your neck, not choking you but asserting her dominance above you. 

She pulled away from your lips so quickly you had to suck in a breath, the kiss taking your breath away, her breath also fanning against your cheek. You hate to admit that the kiss felt genuine, as if she truly loved you. Your mind told you many different things, but "run" was not one of them right now. 

In the dim morning light, her green eyes lock onto your [eye color]-ed ones, silently telling you to let her into your mind. With great reluctance, you allowed her. You opened the gates to your consciousness, your deepest and darkest secrets showing themselves to Wanda. There were the little things, like your favorite food and color. And how you like your coffee in the morning or if you prefer quilted blankets over fluffy ones. If you like to sleep in or wake up early and if you read before bed or journal. 

As she takes in all of your mundane likes and preferences, she pushes herself into a deeper part of your mind that knowing loves what she does to you. Every pump of her fingers, every orgasm and moan she pulls from you, this part of your mind will show her everything. ‘Mmm, a little rope bunny, huh? You love being tied up… now thats cute.’ Wanda speaks in her head, and you subconsciously hear everything she says. 

Wanda smiles down at your dazed and confused expression, knowing full well that you are under her spell. She takes this opportunity to undo the chain connected to your collar, letting it drop off the bed and to the floor. On the bedside table, is the rope that held your hands to the bed frame as she spanked you. She smiles as she gets to use it again. 

She moves off of your frozen body, settling you at the top of the bed with your head on a pillow. Grabbing the rope, she wraps one piece to your right hand, pulling your limp arm to the corner of the bed. She does the same to the left arm, putting you in a spread-out position. Nowhere to go, nowhere to escape. She decides right now that this is how she likes you; all tied up and at her mercy. 

But Wanda wanted more! So she reaches under her bed to grab another two lengths of rope. She spreads your legs and ties both ankles to the bottom corners of the bed frame, looking at her work with a smug smile on her lips. 

Having you still and under her control was all she needed. But now she wants your full attention. With a snap of her fingers, you are back and aware of your surroundings. Your eyes immediately find Wanda at the end of the bed, tears beginning to form. 

“Please, I- I can’t do this anymore,” You say, tears pooling in your eyes as you pull at the rope around your limbs. She sighs and moves back to the head of the bed, sitting down next to you and gently wiping a tear from your cheek. 

“I want to make you feel good, little one. You know I can do that…” Wanda says, her hand moving from your cheek, down to your neck. Her fingers gently wrap around the delicate part of your body, and she chuckles as you try to pull away. “There’s no escaping me, bunny. You’re mine now.” 

You whimper, tears falling down your temples as you look up at the ceiling. Wanda strokes your hair softly and moves back on top of you, strategically placing her knee right against your wet folds. She gives you no room to move away from her, the movement you do have only makes you rub your clit against her knee. She smirks at your failed attempt to move from your current predicament.

 “Oh my little bunny, trying to escape,” She moves her knee up and down, your slick coating her skin. “You have no idea what you are getting into, do you little rabbit,” Her voice laced with malicious intent, her eyes unreadable. Dread fills your stomach as a puff of red energy surrounds Wanda's naked waist. A leather harness wraps the way around her, a pearly, white, penis-shaped toy hooked to the end of it. “This. This is what you are getting into. Im going to fuck you into oblivion, and you are going to love it. You are going to take every little thing I give you, do you understand?” You don’t respond at first, your eyes glued to the white toy in front of you. 

Wanda's hand squeezes your neck and your gaze shoots up to her face. “I said, do you understand?” She repeats. You nod your head and a whimper is forced from your system as she moves her hand from your neck down your chest. She scoots down a little bit, settling between your spread legs. Her cock sits proudly at your entrance, your slick already gathering from the sight of it. 

With a smile, moves both hands to your pussy, rubbing your folds and spreading them open. Her thumb rubs small circles on your exposed clit, the sensation overwhelming. A moan leaves your mouth, and you scold yourself internally. You were mortified at how open and unprotected you are, yet your pussy got wetter by the second. 

Wanda's other fingers entered your soaking hole, stretching you out to fit her cock. She wanted to make sure you were more than ready. Dragging spectral moans from your throat for a few moments, she felt like your little hole was ready for her. 

She pulled her fingers from your pussy and put them to your lips, forcing them past, and held them on your tongue. “Clean up the mess you made.” Her command made you shake, but you listened, not in a condition to disobey. You sucked on her fingers like your life depended on it, making sure that every drop of your juices were gone.

The humiliation of having your body betray you, the tears continued. Wanda enjoyed every bit of that, leaning down and licking the tears from your face after removing her fingers from your mouth. 

“P-please, please stop, I- I don’t want this,” You sob, trying to move anywhere, but are unable, due to the master rope work keeping you still. 

Wanda ignored you, spitting on her hand and rubbing it along her cock. The cold ivory poked at your entrance and she leaned over you, grabbing your fluffy ears in her fist. “God, I’ve been wanting to do this forever now…” She says, pushing into your tight cunt. 

A pained moan rips from your throat, tears falling down your cheeks as her cock splits you in two. Your arms and legs pull at the rope around them, trying anything to get free but nothing works. The breaths entering and exiting your mouth are fast and dangerous, panicking at the sheer size of Wanda's cock. 

“Hey, hey, look at me. Bunny, look at me.” Wanda says, letting go of your ears to cup your cheek. She stopped moving when the moan you emitted left your mouth, and her other hand immediately went to your clit to try and soothe the pain. It helped a little bit, but not enough. Your sobs were heartbreaking to her and she pushed in a little bit more. 

“Breathe for me, my little rabbit, breathe for me. I know you can do it,” She whispers, leaning down to meet your lips in a soft and gentle kiss. As you kiss her back, you whimper as she bottoms out inside of you. “You’re doing so good for me, baby, so good.” Her words flutter the butterflies in your belly, and your tight walls squeeze her cock lightly. 

“H-hurts,” Is all you can muster out, more tears rolling down your temples. Wanda shakes her head and makes you look into her eyes. 

“Bunny, look at me… this feels good, right? It feels so good.” Her eyes start to glow a deep red, pushing your mind and body into a euphoric hallucination. She rubs your clit and continues to talk to you. “You are doing so good, my love. This feels so, so good, and you love the feeling of my cock inside of your little pussy, don’t you?” You nod, her words of hypnosis causing the pain to feel pleasurable. “Good, you’re doing amazing…” she says, starting to move her hips, slowly pushing in and out of your pussy. 

The pain subsides, as does her power over your mind. The pleasure is becoming real, and quite enjoyable. You close your eyes, balling your hands into fists as she brushes her thumb over your cheek. “Hey, look at me, honey, can you do that?” You obey, looking up into her eyes. “Good little bunny, such a good girl,” She praises you, and your tail wiggles in response. 

Your heart is racing in your chest as she starts to move faster, her other fingers rubbing circles over your clit. She pushes you closer to your release, the feeling similar to running up a hill, only to jump and see the large drop on the other side. Reaching a good speed, she slows her fingers, wanting to make you cum from that sensitive spot right inside of your pussy. 

“I know your close, bun bun, I can feel it,” She whispers, moans falling from your mouth with every thrust of her hips. She is right, your orgasm is just within reach, and she wants to see you fall apart underneath her. “Cum for me, baby, you can do it,” the praises enter your ears and hit your soul, pushing you right to the top of that hill. 

You cum hard on her cock, loud moans filling Wandas' ears like music. With your ears flopping with every thrust, she smiles and takes a mental picture of this moment, wanting it to last forever. Soon, your orgasm washes over you, leaving you in a panting, tired mess. “You did so good my little bunny, so good.” Your cheeks heat up, submission being the only thing you can think of right now. 

“P-please,” you whisper as you pull at the restraints. You had never felt this much pleasure at one time, the need to be held and taken care of was the only thing on your mind. No escape, struggle, rage, fear, nothing was on your mind. Wanda could sense this, and without hesitation she gently pulled out of you, cleaning you up with the apron of her dress draped over the end of the bed. 

With care, she unties your limbs, kissing each of them after they are free. Once the rest of the rope was pulled off of your skin, you curled in on yourself. Your ears fall back in meekness and your tail wiggles struggling to calm down. Wanda smiles, lying down behind you on the bed. She takes you in her arms kisses your neck and pets your ears to soothe you.  

Her whispers are the last thing you hear before your eyes begin to droop in exhaustion. “Its alright, my little rabbit. You’re safe with me…” 

“I- Im- Im safe…” Sleepily, you respond, knowing deep down that you are safer than you will ever be outside of these walls. 

[trashytummies]

batfam vore crack

a/n: this is way longer than i thought and so ooc lmaooo -- idk bruce can somehow shrink ppl and they can't digest bc dense molecules or somethin, pretend it makes sense bc i didn't really think it thru lol.

-----

Bruce walked in, suit jacket off, sleeves rolled up --classic trying-to-pretend-he’s-normal Bruce-- but Jason’s sharp eyes caught the subtle shift in his posture. A slight tightness in the way he carried himself, his usually flat stomach curving outward ever so slightly beneath his shirt.

Jason blinked, fork pausing mid-air. His mind connected the dots in a blaze of growing dread.

“Oh, no. No, no, no,” Jason muttered, shaking his head, leaning back in his chair. "You’ve got to be kidding me." He jabbed his fork toward Bruce’s middle. “Tell me you’re not doing that thing again.”

Bruce, with all the casual gravitas of a man discussing a board meeting, replied, “It’s efficient.”

“Efficient, my ass!” Jason’s chair scraped back as he stood, waving his hands. “We’re not some--some army of joeys for you to carry around like a freaking marsupial!”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t this resistant before.”

Jason scoffed, pacing away. “Oh, you mean when I was thirteen and didn’t know better? Sure, B, back when I still thought it was cool that Batman could turn into a one-man escape pod.” His voice dropped into a mocking lilt. “‘Oh wow, Bruce, your stomach’s so warm and soft, thanks for saving me from those assassins!’” He spun to face Bruce again. “Yeah, pass.”

Bruce was silent, watching Jason with that infuriating patience of his. It only made Jason’s skin crawl more, his unease growing as he remembered the last time he’d been in there. A bad night after a bad mission. Nightmares. His mother. Bruce offering a solution -- an unorthodox one, but it had worked.

And Jason had hated that it worked.

“Not happening, Bruce,” Jason said firmly, shaking off the memory. “I’m too old for this crap. And, frankly, it’s weird. Just use the Batplane to transport people like a normal person.”

Bruce sighed, stepping closer, his shadow swallowing Jason’s smaller frame. “Jason,” he said, voice low and steady, “I know you don’t like it. But it’s safer. You’ve been reckless lately. If something goes wrong--”

“I’m not a kid anymore, Bruce!” Jason snapped.

Bruce’s gaze softened, just slightly, in that way that always threw Jason off. “I’m not saying you’re a kid. But you’re still family.”

Jason flinched. Damn Bruce and his emotional sucker punches. He looked away, jaw tightening. “Family, huh? You sure about that? ‘Cause last I checked, family doesn’t shove each other into their guts.”

“Dick accepted it,” Bruce said evenly.

Jason groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Of course, he accepted it -- he probably volunteered. Probably climbed in with a big, dumb smile like, ‘Gee, Bruce, this is so innovative!’”

“He said it was comfortable,” Bruce deadpanned.

Jason gawked. “He said what? Oh, that’s it. I’m out. Dinner was great --props to Alfie-- but I’m done. Bye.” He turned to leave, boots thudding against the hardwood.

But Bruce was faster.

Jason barely had time to curse before the flash zapped him, and the world tilted. One moment, he was storming toward the door. The next, he was tiny. Like couple inches-tall tiny.

And, to his horror, Bruce was already reaching for him.

“Oh, hell no! Bruce, don’t you--”

****************************

“Hey, Jaybird!” Dick grinned, throwing up a hand like they’d just bumped into each other on a street corner instead of, you know, inside Bruce’s stomach.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Jason jabbed a finger toward him.

“Oh, you know, just the usual family bonding stuff.” Dick shrugged, his grin widening. “Came for the ambiance, stayed for the company.”

“Don’t you dare laugh this off--"

“I’m not laughing!” Dick said, holding his hands up defensively, though his tone was anything but serious. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Jason let out a growl of frustration, kicking the water at his feet, though it only ended up splashing onto his own legs. “You are such a--”

“Jason?”

That voice was smaller, softer, and Jason turned to see Tim standing a little further away, looking tiny as hell next to Dick. His arms were crossed tightly, his whole posture screaming discomfort.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Jason threw his arms out. “You’re here, too? What, did Bruce swallow all of you before dinner?”

“Not all of us,” came a sharp, clipped voice from somewhere behind Tim.

Jason peered around him and spotted Damian, perched on a high ridge, looking irritated beyond belief.

Jason blinked, then barked out a laugh. “Oh, great. The whole circus. Wonderful.” He threw a hand toward Dick. “Let me guess, this was your idea.”

Dick didn’t deny it, which only made Jason more annoyed. Instead, he clapped his hands, the sound oddly muted by their surroundings. “Look, before you freak out--”

“I’m already freaking out!”

“--this is a trust-building exercise!”

Jason stared at him. So did Tim. Damian muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “idiot” under his breath.

“A what?” Jason said, voice dangerously low.

“A trust-building exercise,” Dick repeated brightly. “Think about it--Bruce clearly trusts us with his life, or he wouldn’t let us in here.”

“He didn’t let us in here. He ate us,” Jason shot back, jabbing a thumb toward the fleshy ceiling.

“Semantics,” Dick said with a grin.

Jason pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering, “Oh my god, I’m gonna kill him.”

“Look, it’s not just about trust,” Dick went on, ignoring Jason’s rising blood pressure. “It’s about contingencies. Think about it -- what if we get separated in the field? What if something like this happens for real? Wouldn’t you rather have this experience under your belt?”

“No!” Tim and Jason snapped in unison.

[kfaem]

Love and Deepspace; Sleepless Nights

≪•◦ ❈ ◦•≫

I was in the shower listening to Sleepless Nights by 9Muses and got this idea in my head. I’m starting to write this at 1am so don’t expect quality lol. Pairing: Zayne/F!Reader Genre: Angst, Hurt with Comfort CW: Written on mobile, nightmares, possible descriptions of gore, some spoilers to his myth i guess?, use of nicknames (dove, aurora) Summary: When MC has a nightmare that leaves her shaken.

She was running. Boots hitting the concrete with a solid slam as she darted through the crowd of blurry faces. She was running to a burning building.

Then she wasn’t running anymore. She was in a field of wilted jasmine flowers. The sky a toxic grey, clouds masking any hint of a blue sky from her eyes. The wilted flowers crunched under her bare feet as she walked. She didn’t know where she was headed until she saw a silhouette. “Zayne?” She called out, voice hoarse, a hollow echo flooding the nearly empty field.

But he ignored her. As she drew closer, steps growing more frantic, it felt as though he was only getting further away. “Zayne!” She called desperately, tears welling up in her eyes as an indescribable feeling of fear overcame her.

Before she could break out into a run, the ground disappeared below her. She plummeted down, landing somewhat painlessly on a hard stone floor. A chain had been secured on her wrist and a beautifully ominous frost began to creep towards her. She shivered violently, weakly pleading for Zayne to save her. She closed her eyes for a moment and found herself in front of him. He was shackled by chains the same way she had been but this time, he was gritting his teeth. “Zayne?” Her lips were stiff from the cold and a soft snowflake pattern etched itself up her body. “What…what is this? What’s happening?”

His brow furrowed and his eyes shut as an icicle plunged through his chest. “I-I don’t want to hurt you…” Zayne gasped, the icicles continuing to pierce through his skin. “This isn’t me, my dove, I-I’m so sorry.” A sob like sound fell from his lips as a horrid pain shot through her heart. Her gaze fell, it was one of his icicles.

She gasped, lungs expanding as though she was drowning. The man she loved was sitting up beside her in a heartbeat, gently running his fingers through her hair. "You're alright, I've got you." He frowned at her shaken state, the silence filling the room was deafening. "Do you need anything? Water, something to eat?" His voice was gentle, soft. The voice he only used for her.

"I-I...I saw you get hurt. You died." Zayne cupped her face in his hands, wiping the tears from her weeping eyes. "Then-then you lost control of your evol, the ice..." She raised her hand to her chest, the memory of the shard tearing through her skin felt so real. "You looked so scared, so afraid... I couldn't even say anything."

Zayne remained silent, a soft sigh falling from his mouth. "You will never have to worry about that coming true, my aurora, I will never harm you even if it kills me." He pulled her against his chest, placing one of her shaking hands on his chest. "See? We're here, you can feel my heart beating, can't you?"

Her breathing started to even out then, the aching in her chest subsiding now that she could truly feel him in front of her. "I love you, Zayne."

"I love you too, aurora."

[solarwonux]

Business Proposal || knj (2/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst, namjoon is pretty much not the nicest dude lol (will add more as it progresses), kinda sugar daddy au but not really. It will make sense I promise.

Rating: mature, 18+

w.c: 9k

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do.”

a/n: Hello, this is longer than I expected it to be, but anything to get the story moving. LMK your thoughts and if you want to be added to the tallest! Enjoy!

m.list

prev || next 

“I thought you stopped smoking.”

Jungkook jumps at the sound of your voice, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights. The burning cigarette in between his index and middle finger. He opens his mouth to say something, but decides against it and closes it, shaking his head. He looks out into the backyard, and takes another puff of his almost gone cigarette.

You sigh and go to stand next to him, leaning against the porch railing as you stare out into the same backyard. Silently wishing it was Spring again. Mrs. Jeon and Lia’s backyard always felt magical. Filled with flowers and greenery that always made it feel like a dream. But in the winter months it was barren and depressing. Nothing exciting grows except for the Lenten Roses in a pot next to the last porch step.

“Bad habits die hard.” He shrugs, taking another puff. “You should know.” He looks over at you, blowing out the cloud of smoke in your face.

You cough, fanning the cloud away. “You’re an ass.”

“Sometimes you ask for it.” He shrugs, throwing the white stick on the ground and squashing it with his boot. “Shouldn’t you be inside, gushing about wedding dresses and invitations with mom, while dad kisses Namjoon’s feet for once again being the perfect son.”

He stuffs his hands into the pocket of his pants. You sigh, coming to stand next to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him tightly. “Don’t be like that.” You whisper. “You’re lightyears a better person than your brother.”

His chest shakes with a humorless laugh. He has the urge to push you away but you’ve always been the only one with the ability to see through the perfectly curated images he and his brother have built over the years. “It’s always the same. I’m always the degenerate, the one who broke the rules growing up while Namjoon followed them. I’m the one who dropped out of college but he’s automatically the better son because he didn’t, and is now working on his PHD. While I work at a small flower shop, with a freelance photography job on the side. I’m the leech they can’t seem to get rid off.” He lets out a shaky sigh before pushing himself away.

“Jungkook d–”

“No, don’t say anything because you’re helping him knowing very well what he’s done to you. You’re feeding into what they want, and you can tell me it’s to benefit yourself. But how many times did I offer to help you pay out your student loans? How many times did I offer to help you find a better job? And you never took it because you wanted to do it yourself and I respected that boundary. But now that he comes back and offers you the same things with an added marriage proposal on top. You suddenly decide to take up on the offer.” He rants, running a tattooed hand through his long hair. “It fucking sucks because I know he’s going to hurt you and I don’t know if I can be there for you when he does because even if I have never had any sort of romantic feelings for you. I do love you and it hurt so much seeing you so broken and not being able to do anything about it.” He paces, invisibly mapping out the situation with his hands.

“And I can’t even fully hate him either because he is my brother and not many people understand our relationship but I know he loves me. He just has this weird ass way of showing it, and if he hurts you again, I’ll be put in the middle and I don’t want that because I can’t leave you alone and I can’t leave him alone either.” He breathes out, dropping his head feeling defeated.

It’s everything he wanted to tell you yesterday at the flower shop, but he didn’t want Yoongi to see him like this. Truthfully he wasn’t going to let you know either, but seeing the happiness on his parents' faces made him feel more bitter than usual.

You walk to stand in front of him, placing your hands on top of his shoulders. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

Jungkook clicks his tongue in annoyance before shaking his head in disbelief. “I know a part of you still loves him and I know that part will fall for him the second he starts acting like the old Namjoon again. I can’t stop you and I can’t stop him either.”

“You out of all people know that I’m not the same person I was then and you know why. You’re right the person that loved him is still inside here but she knows better. I won’t fall for him the way I did then and what happened that night won’t happen again.” You say, hugging him tightly again. “I appreciate you worrying about me, but I can take care of myself.” You whisper, rubbing his back lightly.

He sighs, finally hugging you back and kissing the top of your head gently. “I wish it was Jimin instead.” He adds, making you laugh a bit at the end. That was a whole new can of worms you didn’t want to get into.

At least not now at your fake fiance's parents house.

“I was scared.” He admits, burying his head into your neck. “When you called me and told me to pick you up in tears. I honestly never wanted to kill anyone more than I did that night.” He whispers. You blink away the tears forming in your eyes. Jungkook’s never been honest with you about what he felt that night. You never asked because you were scared of knowing the truth. And now that he’s voiced it you can’t help but feel your heart break all over again.

“I’m sorry, I did–”

“No, don’t be sorry it’s not your fault that he–”

“Am I interrupting something?” Namjoon’s curiosity breaks the two of you apart in an instant. Quickly you wipe away the fallen tears from your cheeks. You step away further from Jungkook while he does the same, avoiding eye contact with the older man as if you’ve been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to.

Namjoon has always had a wild imagination, hence his profession of choice. And right now his imagination is running him up a road he knows he shouldn’t go down. He had been looking for you for at least fifteen minutes, and when he heard your voice along with Jungkook’s voice coming through the patio screen door. He couldn’t think straight, especially not after hearing his little brother be so vulnerable, but he also couldn’t help but wonder what else the two of you were talking about.

As far as he’s concerned the infamous fight between the two of you happened in your old bedroom. Your parents were out on a date and he had come over so you could look over one of his essays. He left your house in a hurry, getting on his bike and pedaling as fast as he could to get away from your house with his heart pounding against his throat.

Had you gone somewhere else after?

Now, he needed to know, only because his curiosity would not let him forget until he knew. It was one of his fatal flaws. Probably the most annoying one.

“Um, I know you came with Kook but it would be weird now if you left with him.” He too feels weird, especially because the two of you looked like you’ve just stolen three cookies out of the jar before dinner. He hates it, it only feeds the little curious demon inside of him. “I have to be somewhere at five so I came to tell you that I’ll take you home but we have to leave in like fifteen minutes to beat the traffic.” He nods, scratching the back of his neck before taking a look between the two of you, and it suddenly hits him like a truck.

Wait, were the two of you secretly seeing each other. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Wait, but what about that Jimin guy? Hold on, were you seeing the of them at the same time, hol–

“It’s fine we are done here.” Jungkook looks over at you, giving you a smile to ease your overwhelming anxiety, and walks to the entrance, patting Namjoon’s arm before heading inside.

There’s a pregnant pause between the two of you, before you decide that it’s been long enough for you to go back inside too. Before you even get the chance to move, Namjoon speaks up, burning his stare into yours.

“Are you seeing each other?” He voices out, finally giving in. He regrets it because the look on your face makes him realize that he’s said the wrong thing.

“You’ve been saying a lot of stupid shit lately.” You shake your head, taking it as your sign to leave. If you have to be in a car with him for an hour. You might as well save your energy. His genetic material is full of nonsense. “I’ll wait for you inside.” You say walking in and leaving him alone in the barren patio.

He can’t help but wonder about a lot of things. All of them start and end with you.

Namjoon is driving.

It’s a view you never thought you would ever see. Back when the two of you were friends he had very strong opinions about driving. The one time you asked after he showed up at the coffee shop drenched in rain water.

He said, “The world will be better without me on the road.” He laughed running off to ask the workers for a towel.

“What?” Namjoon says after stopping at a red light and looking over at you. One eyebrow raised.

“Nothing, it’s just strange.” You shrug. “I never thought I’d see you driving.” You point out, watching as the red light turns green. He steps on the gas, making a smooth right turn and glances over at you. A smirk painted on his features.

“I got tired of biking everywhere.” He says, leaning his right arm on the middle counsel. “This is also more convenient than asking JK to drive me everywhere when it rains or snows.”

You nod looking out the window. “What happened to priding yourself in having a small carbon footprint and world peace or whatever?”

Namjoon chuckles, shaking his head “I still bike most of the time just not to moms house or when it rains. As for the world peace thing. I don’t think being off the roads will stop wars.” He pulls the car to a stop and looks over at you again. Now that the two of you are alone he can’t help but think that maybe you did get a little prettier than what he remembers. Though you still don’t compare to all the women he’s ever dated. Most of them being nepo babies or supermodels. You’re still quite attractive, maybe in another life he wouldn’t have thought twice about sharing a life with you. But you still weren’t the woman of his dreams. Though, the more he navigates through life he’s realizing that such a person simply doesn’t exist.

If they did he wouldn’t be here in the car with you.

“Oh,” you jump up as if you just remembered something important. And before Namjoon can begin to understand what was happening the light turns green again and he’s pressing on the gas pedal. “I forgot to give this to you.” You say, holding out your hand in his view of sight with his mothers ring.

“Keep it.” He says without missing a beat. You’re shocked and you’re about to fight against him, but he beats you to it. “We’re going to be spending lots of time together. It’d be weird if you didn’t wear it when we’re together.” He reasons. It makes sense but you hated every second that passed by in which you had it on.

In a few months it wouldn’t be yours anymore. Plus it just felt wrong to be wearing it knowing it will someday go to someone else.

“You can just keep it and then when we go to places together, just give it to me.” You nudge his arm with your open hand. He glances down at it before looking out to the road.

“No need, you’ll be moving in anyway.” He nonchalantly says, shrugging his shoulders as if he didn’t drop another bomb on you.

Moving in?

This whole deal was taking turns that you didn’t expect. You knew he offered you a house in which you honestly weren’t going to take. But you didn’t think you’d be moving in with him. From what Jungkook tells you his apartment is more of a museum than a home. And you like your little apartment. It was perfect for one person, it had everything you needed and it was close to two subway stations. It was absolutely perfect and the rent wasn’t crazy expensive.

Rent.

That’s another thing to take into consideration. Would he make you pay for rent if you did by some miracle agree to moving in, because you’re more than positive you wouldn’t be able to afford it. Not now with your passable income from the flower shop. Of course, that chapter of your life will soon come to an end, but even working as a professor in your prestigious alma mater wouldn’t be enough to pay whatever crazy amount his rent is.

“Hold on, that wasn’t in our deal.” You close your hand in a fist and bring it down onto your lap turning your entire body to face him.

Namjoon rolls his eyes. “The cats out of the bag what would people think when they figure out we are engaged but not living together.” He pulls up into the parking lot of your apartment building and puts the car in park. He turns his entire body to face you, one hand gripping onto the steering wheel. “I don’t think you understand how crazy mom can be. She will be over unannounced every other day now that she knows we’re getting married. It’s best to avoid all those questions because they can get invasive.” He states, turning off the engine and opening up his door. He looks over at you. “I can’t stay long but I’ll walk you to your door.”

You were beginning to get annoyed with how nonchalant he was acting about all of this. For a person who claims this was all fake he seemed to be trying his hardest to make it seem as real as possible. You’re starting to wonder if you should set up some ground rules first before you make such a serious decision.

What if you do move in? When all this is over what will happen to you?

You have no doubt in your mind that he will kick you out the second he gets tired of this scheme. You have no doubt in your mind that he will begin to act like this never happened. It is what he does best. He crosses boundaries and when you make it known he acts like he didn’t and that you were in the wrong the entire time.

It’s what happened then, but this time it will be different. This time you’re determined to keep your guard up as high as a skyscraper. This time you won’t fall for his smile, his charm, his laugh or his heart. This time you’re going to put yourself first and to be able to do that you need to have a serious conversation. Set some ground rules before you can continue anything else.

“Namjoon, wait.” You say as he’s getting out of the car. He rounds the front and opens the passenger door for you.

“What, I need to be somewhere in fifteen minutes, let’s go.” He rushes out looking down at his Rolex then you.

You get down from his car, stepping to the side as he closes the door. “We need to talk about this.” You use your pointer finger to single the space between the two of you.

He lets out an annoyed sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. “We will, but not today. We can have lunch next Wednesday after you come in for training.”

“Namjoon I just don’t think you understand. You’re making all these choices without getting my opinion first. I understand you want your parents to believe that we are actually engaged. And I understand that you have a lot left to lose. But you’re not the only one in this. I get to have say in this too and I–”

Namjoon holds his hand out to your face, blocking your words from coming out. “I get it and believe me I would love to talk about it because we have a lot of things to discuss but I really can’t today. I have a dinner meeting with a coworker and I need to pick her up in—” he looks down at his watch and up, “-in ten minutes.” He finishes and starts walking in front of you.

A dinner meeting? On a Sunday? With another woman?

You don’t want to be that person. You firmly do believe that men and women are able to be friends without anything romantic and sexual happening between them. But he’s acting a little bit suspicious and you can’t help but wonder if he’s going out on a date.

God, you’re so annoyed it’s honestly becoming very tiring. And you’ve only been fake engaged for a few hours. You can’t begin to imagine what the next months will be like or for however long he plans to keep up the scheme.

He calls out your name. He’s standing in front of your building entrance, snapping his fingers to hurry you up.

“I’m not a dog.” You roll your eyes, and push past him. You press the button to the automatic door and hold your hand out before he can take another step. “And I don’t need an escort.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“And you’re going to be late for your date.” You state stepping inside, leaving him floored with your little outburst. He wants to follow you and tell you a few choice words, but the ringing of his phone keeps him from pressing the button again.

He can talk to you another day. Right now you’re right about one thing. He is late. Even if it’s not a date like you have just assumed. He hates being late to places.

In a relationship.

The little phrase next to yours and Namjoons name has been haunting you since you got the notification last night. Least to say you had not gotten a wink of sleep. You had messaged Namjoon asking him what it was all about. The two of you had not talked since Sunday and making your fake relationship official on Facebook for friends and family to see was definitely something you didn’t see him doing.

It had caught you by surprise. What surprised you the most was the comments underneath the status, offering you kind words and congratulations. The few “it's about time,” comments had set you off. You weren’t sure if it was because you were engaged or because the two of you were engaged to each other. It had your mind racing in all sorts of directions.

Yet, what really didn’t let you sleep was Taehyung’s messages and Jimin’s cryptic “it all makes sense now,” text you had woken up too.

Your fake fiance always prided in living a life away from the drama. And while he’s having a blast living a fantasy you were on the other end receiving nasty messages from your friends and what you assumed were women he had been with once upon a time.

It was all getting too much. You were supposed to be enjoying your last shift ever at Euphoria before you ventured off into the world for bigger and better things. But here you were blocking comments and ignoring Taehyung’s angry spam and Jimini’s nasty comments, with a knot at the base of your throat.

You’ve never hated Namjoon more than you did now. Since he was ignoring you, probably annoyed with your constant pleading to delete the status. You would have to wait until you saw him again next week to scream in his face.

What didn’t help was that Jungkook had called in sick, so you were stuck with the brooding owner, sending you a glare whenever he heard you sigh.

“Okay, out with it. What has you acting like the queen has died?” He cuts a stem off a rose, before placing it in the middle of a few baby breath branches.

You put your phone down, face down hoping it would somehow keep the notifications from coming. “First the queen has died. Second, Namjoon is so fucking annoying. I…ugh.” You let out a frustrated sigh. Probably the thousandth one of the day before putting your head in your head, cradling it.

The headache that you had woken up with after three restless hours of sleep was only growing to be worse. You hear the older man laugh before patting your back awkwardly. “I think this is the part in which Jungkook would be saying I told you so, but I still fully support you getting the bag you deserve, and unfortunately whatever he did is part of the consequences you just have to face.” He states proudly before retrieving his hand and going back to the bouquet he was working on.

You raise your head, hoping your glare would bury him six feet underneath the ground. “You’re no help sometimes. I don’t know why I even ask for your advice.”

Yoongi clicks his tongue before shaking his head, “You see that’s where you’re wrong. You didn’t ask for my advice. I’m just telling you the honest truth. Now if you can’t take it then you shouldn’t have accepted the deal in the first place.” He shrugs, wiping his hands on his apron before grabbing a pair of scissors. He goes to the ribbon wall behind him, taping his chin with the tip of them in thought.

“What did he do this time anyway?” He says getting a hold of a lavender one and measuring it before cutting it off.

You lift up your phone, opening it quickly and navigating yourself through the homescreen before clicking the bright blue app. “This! He did this without letting me know.” You extend your phone showing him the status.

He leans his head forward squinting his eyes before breaking out into a smile. “Congratulations, I knew the two of you would be perfect together.” He jokes, making you groan out in annoyance. He chuckles, cutting up some flower bouquet paper. “Jokes aside, that is an asshole move, but what else would we expect from the devil himself.” He says grabbing the bouquet and placing it in the middle of the pale pink paper. “You knew what you were signing up for.”

“Ugh, I know, I know, I know. I don’t need you to remind me.” You push yourself off the counter as soon as the bell to the shop dings signaling someone has walked in. “It’s the aftermath of his actions that’s sending me up the wall. I really ha–” You turn around putting your best customer service smile only for it to fade away the minute your eyes come into contact with ones you’ve grown up with.

The warmth they once held for you is gone, now replaced with stone cold anger.

“Jimin.”

“Do you want to explain to me what’s going on?” He pushes his way past you and walks to the aisle full of supplies. “Because the last time we talked you told me you weren’t ready to be in a relationship and as much as it hurt I respected that but now you’re here engaged. And to Namjoon?” He says exasperated. You follow him, thanking god the shop was empty because this wasn’t where you wanted to have this conversation.

You knew it would eventually come and you would have no other option but to have it. Yet, lately the world has been throwing curveballs at you left and right since Namjoon came back into your life. So, what else could you expect?

Plus Jimin has never been one to keep his emotions bottled up. It’s one of things you admire most about him. When he was angry he would voice it. When he was sad he would cry freely and explain why. And when he was happy and in love he had no shame in letting the whole world know. Which is why you couldn’t continue anything with him anymore. Even if he was the one that made you feel comfortable again in your body and encouraged you to explore things with him. You didn’t feel anything towards him other than friendship. It’s not like you didn’t try. You did the moment you realized he had fallen for you months ago. It’s probably why you prolonged cutting things off with him, but you couldn’t do that to him anymore.

Not when he had verbally confessed and was giving you everything he should’ve been giving to someone who didn’t view him as more than a friend. The two of you should’ve listened to everyone who said it was a bad idea, but both of you were stubborn. That’s something you aren’t afraid to admit. Unfortunately the decision the two of you made almost a year ago was now coming back to bite the two of you in the ass. Though for some reason it felt like you were getting the shorter end of the stick with everything that had gone down in the last few days.

Maybe you were cursed?

“Min I can explain.” You whisper yell, reaching out to him. He retracts, throwing his hands up and steps away from you.

“No, I don’t need you to explain anything to me. I saw what that man did to you and you went back to him after cutting things off with me.” He spits out, venom laced in his voice as he cards a shaky hand through his already messy hair. He stops for a second biting his bottom lip and looks over at you.

“Were you seeing him while we were together? Were you with me when he couldn’t be with you? Because I can’t even begin to explain how fucked up that is. Especially for someone like you but I guess I didn’t know you as well as I thought I did.” He rants, his hands shaking as he finds somewhere to put them to hide the visible anger he is feeling inside.

“It’s not like that Min, please just let me explain.” You plead, taking cautious steps closer to him. Gripping your apron tightly to keep yourself from crying. This is why you admired your oldest friend for the longest time. He wore his heart on his sleeve whereas you couldn’t let yourself cry in fear of looking pitiful and weak.

He takes one final look at you before shaking his head. “No, I don’t want anything from you. I just want you to stay out of my life.” He says before walking past you, bumping your shoulder with his and walking out.

This is what you feared the most. Losing him. You did have the intention of telling him what was happening when the time was right. This whole situation with Namjoon wasn’t something you ever intended on keeping a secret from both him and Taehyung, but of course you could never walk at your own pace.

For as long as you can remember nobody ever let you march to the beat of your own drum. Everyone around you always forced you to act whenever it was suitable for them. And right now as much as you were at fault too, you couldn’t help but blame Namjoon and his impatience.

Every day that went by, you realize how much this was inconveniencing you rather than benefiting you like you had originally thought.

“Now, I think this is the part in which Jungkook would say I told you so.” Yoongi speaks out from behind you.

You roll your eyes, shake your head and send him a glare. In a haste you untie your apron and rip it off. “I quit.” You say walking past the counter and throwing the fabric onto it.

Yoongi shrugs, trying his best to give you a reassuring smile in which it looks like he’s in pain instead. “Impossible when you only had five more minutes left of your final shift.”

That’s the last thing you hear him say before walking into the back and finally letting your tears fall down.

You’ve had your fair share of heartbreaks in the past.

When you were five you had your first boyfriend–Paul. A blooming relationship that lasted merely three days. On the first day of school he gave you a note with a poorly drawn flower and “I love you” written in the center. In his best five year old handwriting. On the second day he kissed you in the line on the way to Spanish class–dared by his best friend–Pedro. And on the last day, he played with you on the playground but on the way back to class he was holding hands with another girl.

Your first heartbreak.

Then you embarrassingly harbored a crush on him for three years after. In fifth grade–Christian had stolen your heart as soon as you saw his crooked smile and overly slicked back hair, but of course he had picked the prettier and meaner girl in class–Yuni.

Your second heartbreak.

Though, the infatuation didn’t last long, you forgot about him as soon as you entered middle school.  But you remember your heart beating out of time when you saw him at Sunday school. You were in seventh grade. Your body was changing. You felt awkward as hell listening to a sermon while fantasizing what it would be like to hold his hand.

When you were fifteen on the other hand. All hell broke loose.

You fell out of love with a lot of firsts in your life, and everything felt so black and white. Things that made you happy. That you viewed as pillars slowly started fading away. It started with ballet, then it trickled down to your studies. You didn’t feel like doing anything, your feelings were confusing and you felt angry with everything and everyone around you. To add the cherry on top your crush of possibly four years broke your heart–Jung Hoseok.

He was perfect. He was tan, tall, and handsome. He had a beautiful smile with moony eyes. He was funny and smart and loved to dance. You had met him during your first dance practice back in seventh grade. All it took was a smile, a wink and a killer freestyle for you to fall head over heels for him. He was nice, he sat with you during lunch whenever Taehyung and Jimin had a different one. He helped you out with your math homework and he even cracked jokes about your favorite boy band at the time. He would ask you about your day and make sure you didn’t skip your meals.

Jimin and Taehyung were so tired hearing you yap about him twenty four seven and so they offered to help you out. The three of you came up with a plan on how to confess to him, but all of that went down the drain one Wednesday afternoon.

The tears didn’t start falling when you saw the self proclaimed bad boy holding hands with one of the popular girls from school–Harley. They came after when you ran out of the dance studio because Of course it had to be her. God had blessed her with the perfect genes. The perfect hair, the perfect smile, the perfect body, and she was a way better dancer than you. She was beautiful and you were a colorless painting next to her that lacked detail. You had acne on your forehead, and even if you had ditched the contacts and braces a year prior. Your hair was still frizzy, and your body wasn’t desirable. Your boobs were practically non-existent, your hips were too wide and your stomach wasn’t flat

It sucked because you seriously thought he could’ve been it. He had been it for a while. You pulled back. Curating a home in a fantasy world, caging your heart in. Despite your friends being protective over you like a little sister. Their protection was nothing compared to how locked up you had your heart. That is until you met Kim Namjoon–and that also ended in a disaster. After that you didn’t give a fuck, you let men come and go. Use you for their needs until one night you awoke from your slumber. Sadly it had already been too late.

Jimin was there to repair you brick by brick. He helped you rediscover yourself in more ways than one. He helped you feel comfortable in your body. Something that was so foreign to you it took lots of trial and error. Yet, you broke him.

Despite all the heartbreak you have experienced in your life. This had to be the one that hurt the most, because you hurt him, and nothing you do will ever bring him back to you.

All because you wanted to have the upper hand.

This is why you disliked Kim Namjoon. Just like he brought you back to life he had dulled you at the same time. He made you feel special but at the same time ordinary; and because of him–though it wasn’t his entire fault you were equally to blame–you had lost one of the most important people in your life.

In honor of such event you had been avoiding the world for the entirety of three days. On the fourth day–today–you had finally forced yourself out of bed.

It was your first day of training at your new job which meant you were going to be in the same room with your nemesis AKA your fake fiance. Listening to him brag about how much better he is at everything.

Everything was a shit show.

You purposely took the longer route, hoping it would work calming you down. The Cherry Blossoms were finally blooming, signaling the end of a bitter winter and the birth of a new chapter in your life. You had hoped that Jimin and Taehyung would have been here for the ride, after you explained everything. You didn’t get the chance too and now the two of them were acting as if there wasn’t a decade of memories between the two of you.

Your phone buzzed in the pocket of your hot pink slacks. You weren’t going to be teaching yet, just observing some classes and following Namjoon around while he condescendingly explained what your life would be like as a University Professor.

Are you close? - N

You rolled your eyes at the message. You had been scheduled to come in at ten-thirty. It was ten on the dot and he was already rushing you. You begin to wonder if this is what it was going to be like the entire time the two of you will be together.

Don’t forget to wear your ring, we’re going to mom’s for dinner tonight. - N

The annoyed sigh made its way out of you before you could stop it. You hope that it won’t always be like this. Him making plans for you without consulting you first. Or him outing the relationship is such an irresponsible way without letting you know. If he was going to make every single decision for you, then you will call things off. You had taken the entirety of your night writing down a list of demands in order for you to continue things.

Well it was more of a list of things that annoyed you about him. A list in which you only hoped the two of you could come to a compromise. You don’t want to change him. Mostly because he is stubborn and doesn’t see anything wrong with himself no matter how many times people close to him have mapped it out for him. He won’t turn the other way keeping his ground. All you want to do is meet in the middle for however long he wants to keep this charade up.

One of my TAs  is waiting for you at the front of the building. I’m assuming you know the way. She will show you around and I will meet you for lunch. Don’t be late. - N

The third text came in making you grip your phone tightly in your hand. Even when he wasn’t around he somehow manages to make you want to scream out in anger.

I’m five minutes away.

You reply, putting your phone away and ignoring the last text he sends you. You will not let him ruin your last few minutes of freedom.

Eunseo is amazing.

She immediately greeted you in high spirits and complemented your hot pink blazer and slacks combo. And offered to carry around your bag because to her it seemed too heavy, but you refused.

Despite having attended HYBE U almost a decade ago. It hadn’t changed much. There were a few new buildings to compensate for the enrollment capacity, and a carpark where dorms used to be. But other than those slight changes nothing had changed. Even the large field in between the common hall and the dorms was still the same. The trees always bloomed beautifully in the Spring. Though you couldn’t ignore the pang you felt in your chest while walking through the field with Eunseo as she talked about her classes and how much she looked up to Mr. Kim.

This was where you found out you were in love with Namjoon all those years ago. It was Fall, the foliage was at its peak and the leaves were just starting to fall down. The two of you had decided to meet here instead of the cafe that day to enjoy the weather a little more before it turned gray. There was a particularly strong wind and the leaves came rustling down landing on the two of you making the both of you laugh. The sun was shining in the most perfect way possible, his skin glowed underneath it and something inside of you turned.

That day all you could do was think about him. You fell asleep dreaming about his smile and woke up expecting his scent to cloud over you like a blanket.

It was so beautiful yet tragic and you had never turned back since then.

That is until he turned on you.

With the way Eunseo was describing him. You could almost picture him being the same way he was when he tutored you. According to Eunseo he was funny, kind and really cared about his students. He always went out of his way to explain the material in ways his students could understand, and listened to everybody’s opinion extensively. But he also challenged them and pushed them to work harder.

He loved his job and profession more than anything in the world. It’s something you always did admire about him. Even on late nights or when the stress was too much for him to handle. He always found a way to look at it in a different light. For some time you had wished he would’ve done that with you when you confessed your feelings to him. That night he was someone you had never known. It was like something switched off inside of him and he became the heartless jackass you’ve come to know about in recent years.

“You’re very lucky. He will be such an amazing husband.” Eunseo said bringing out of your long train of thought. You stopped dead in your tracks, surprised as she giggled at your reaction.

“H-How do you know.” You clear your throat, bringing your hand up to your chest and playing with the little aquamarine pendant you never take off.

“He told me before I went down to meet with you.” She shrugs, grabbing onto the straps of her backpack. “Don’t worry he’s only told me and I don’t have many friends to tell. So your secret’s safe with me.” She winks turning around and skipping away.

You shake your head and follow her trying to keep up as best as you can. Maybe wearing heels wasn’t the brightest idea, but it was your first day on the job. You need to make a good impression on your future co-workers. In which you hadn’t met yet, but you assumed it was because Namjoon would be the one to introduce you and he was currently in a lecture.

You jump when you hear your name being called from across the field. You turn around quickly as Namjoon makes his way to you. His beige trench coat blowing in the wind. The combination of his nike’s, light blue jeans, and airy button down shirt was more casual than what you expected. Even his hair wasn’t styled. He looked stress free or a normal person.

“Mr. Kim, I have taken care of her and now I am returning her to you in one piece. Just like you instructed.” Eunseo says from beside you. You look over at her. She’s wearing such a bright smile on her face. Her proudness over such a nimble task makes you chuckle. A moment you will never forget now because it’s made you realize how much you desire to inspire someone.

The same way Namjoon has inspired her.

“Thanks Eunseo.” Namjoon replies once he gets closer, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his coat. He looks you up and down, raising his brows before turning over to his student. “This doesn’t mean you’re getting extra credit or an extension on your next paper.”

“It was worth the shot.” She smiles, sending him finger guns making him laugh. She turns to face you, “It was so nice to meet you Mrs. Kim, I’ll be sure to keep on the lookout for your class next semester.” She says giving you an enthusiastic thumbs up. “I’ll see you in class Mr. Kim.” She finishes before turning around and heading down the path leading to the library.

“She’s not going to turn in her paper on time.” Namjoon says from next to you shaking his head. “But she’s one of my best students. Somehow her papers always manage to impress me even if I threaten to take away a whole letter grade for every late paper. It somehow motivates her to do even better and I can’t.” He sighs and looks over at you. “Did you find everything okay, I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you. I told the office to schedule you after my classes today but they refused. Even being head of a department has very little perks.”

You look around quickly to see if anybody was around. There were a few students making their way to classes but each of them were engrossed with their phones or notes or conversations amongst themselves. They weren’t paying any attention to the two of you. So, he didn’t have to act so nice. “You’re so strange.” You comment, widening your eyes and covering your mouth as quickly as possible.

Namjoon rolls his eyes before sticking his hand out for you to take. “And you’re so nice.” He retaliates. The slight pang of bitterness slicing through his words. You almost feel relieved that he was still in there somewhere.

“Thanks, you bring out the best in me.” You take his hand, watching as he interlaced your fingers with his, forcefully pulling you to walk.

“Whatever, let’s just go to lunch. I’m starving. We can talk about things then.”

Okay you take it back. HYBE U was definitely still not the same.

There was a whole dining hall with the bougiest restaurants that you one hundred percent would not have been able to afford when you were a student here. You assume that’s why it’s pretty empty, except for a few faculty.

Namjoon and you had been sitting in silence since the two of you sat down after ordering. Your mouth almost fell open when you saw an avocado toast for almost twenty dollars. Thankfully Namjoon had offered to pay. Now the two of you were waiting for your overpriced food in complete silence. You weren’t sure what to say if you were honest.

Hey thanks for the job, you're still an asshole though.

Or

My best friends hate me because you ruined my life and now they think that what we have is real because you decided to make it official on Facebook. And like who uses Facebook anyway you old man.

In the end you settle for the nice quiet, listening to the ambience around you until your food arrives. The waiter carefully places your plates in the middle of the table and the two of you quietly thank him. Then Namjoon clears his throat, grabbing your attention.

“I usually bring my own lunch but I like this place whenever I forget to cook.” He cuts the toast in half and puts one of them on your plate, and makes sure you get a piece of avocado too.

“You cook?” You tilt your head to the side, picking up your utensils and poking the soft egg in the middle, letting the yolk run.

Namjoon nods, placing some pasta on your plate. “Jin taught me a couple years ago.” He hands you a napkin and starts filling up his plate. You have no idea who this Jin guy is. Namjoon says his name as if you’re supposed to know already, but you’re curious. Namjoon was a genius but he was a complete incompetent buffoon in the kitchen. You can’t explain how many times you witnessed him and Jungkook fighting in front of you whenever you were over their house because he always burned the simplest things. It would stink up the kitchen and Jungkook would lose it because he always lost at rock paper scissors and ended up being the one to clean the kitchen.

“Who’s Jin?” You wipe your mouth, and take a bite of the pasta humming in delight. Maybe the price of the food was worth it.

“He owns the gym Kook and I go too. He sometimes comes over, you’ll meet him soon.” He clarifies.

You nod, letting the silence consume the two of you once again because what else are you supposed to say. Instead you just take another bite of your food.

Maybe if you prayed hard enough, Jungkook would waltz in and break the awkward air looming between the two of you. Of course you had things to say to him, but how were you supposed to bring it up if the conversation wasn’t going down the route.

“Kook’s mad isn’t he?” Namjoon puts down his fork and takes a sip of his water. “I saw him at the gym last night and he almost beat the shit out of me.” He chuckles like it’s no big deal.

“He’s not the only one.” You retort, reaching into your bag and taking out a sheet of notebook paper in a plastic sleeve and place it on the table. Not the most professional looking thing but you were short on time.

“Lo–” Namjoon starts, you assume he’s going to defend himself and his actions. But he doesn’t get very far because you immediately cut him off.

“No, I understand you want everybody to believe whatever this is.” You say pointing between the two of you. “But there’s not just one person in this act. You can’t keep making choices without consulting me first. The brunch was fine. I was able to come up with something on the spot. But the moving in is not, nor is the fucking Facebook status or telling your student or the dinner we have with your mom tonight.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes, “It’s a stupid status is not a big deal.” He takes a bite of pasta. The nonchalance in his demeanor causes the anger you had somehow managed to push away resurface once again.

“It is a big deal Namjoon. Because of that stupid status, neither Jimin or Taehyung are talking to me. You didn’t give me the chance to tell them and finding out through the internet is a pretty shitty thing.” You try to reason. He pokes his cheek with his tongue and crosses his arms.

“Isn’t Jimin the guy you were with at the party? You two were pretty close.”

“He was my best friend. But because of your actions he’s cut off all communication with me.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing the two of you aren’t friends anymore. He looked pretty comfortable touching you at Taehyung’s place.” He says looking around then you. Yeah, you’re adding this to the list of dumbshit he says. Hopefully by the end of this you’ll be able to publish a whole book.

“Are you listening to yourself?” You say tapping your ears. “You sound so dumb right now.” You shake your head, suddenly losing your appetite. He does bring out the worst in you, and you’re beginning to regret ever saying yes in the first place. “Jimin and I used to fuck and sure things were a little rocky between us since the night of the party. But I still care for him. He's still someone important to me and you’re not respecting that. You outed our relationship to the whole world without consulting me first and you keep doing shit without asking if I am okay with it.”

“It sounds like you’re just looking for someone to blame instead of owning up to whatever you did to your precious Jimin.” He shrugs, digging into his avocado toast. You truly want to dump his iced americano all over his head, but your hushed voices are getting a bit louder and people are starting to take notice.

“You’re completely missing the point. This isn’t about me or Jimin’s relationship. This is about you not willing to see that in order for this to continue you need to include me in big decisions like that. I am my own person Namjoon. I have a life outside of this, and you can’t just expect me to stop it and be at your mercy whenever you need me. What if I had plans tonight?”

“Then you cancel them. This is important.”

“Fucking hell, are you not listening to me. I honestly have no idea how to explain this to you in an easier way or without sounding like a broken record. I’m not a doll Namjoon, you can’t wind me up when you need me. I am a fucking human being and you’re not treating me like one. If this continues I will literally call this whole shit off.”  You pick up your fork and forcefully shove some pasta in your mouth.

“You can’t do that. You promised.” He accuses with his finger, furrowing his brows in anger.

You roll your eyes and swallow. “Just like you, I can also break promises.” You shrug before sliding your forgotten list towards him. “These are my rules, if you can’t follow them then I swear  Namjoon I’ll call your mom and tell her everything, and it would totally suck I mean this job seems to be amazing.” You threaten crossing your arms in front of you.

He huffs, snatching the list from the table and reading them. This time you welcome the silence as you wait for him to finish. After what seems like his third run through he puts the list down again, your bubbly handwriting makes his head hurt a little. He could never understand why you always wrote in colorful pens and marked your i’s with hearts.

In his opinion it was overrated and you were a full grown adult, not a toddler.

“You can’t expect to change me. This isn’t forever.” He says like he’s reminding you. Despite you being his fake fiance he never really assumed you would expect him to remain monogamous. He was still a man with needs and he refused to touch you in that way.

“I’m not asking you too. I’m asking you to meet me in the middle and respect me a little more. I know you hate me but I’m not your biggest fan either. Yet, I agreed to this and I am here.”

He tugs his bottom lip in between his teeth in thought. He stares into his plate of food for what seems like hours. He could do that. Maybe things won’t be so unbearable if the two of you were just walking side by side rather than on opposite ends. He also can’t deny that you’re a little right, this was harder than he assumed. You are definitely not the pliant girl he knew once. Maybe this version of you excites him a little, but of course he won’t ever admit that to anyone. He’s already having a hard time admitting it to himself. If you’re going to ask him to meet you in the middle with your annoying list of demands then he’s going to ask the same of you.

Eye for an eye.

“Fine, but only if you agree to move in with me.”

“That’s ridiculous. I don't understand why I can’t just be at my place. I mean you just said this wasn’t forever.” You mumble.

“Ahh then I guess I’ll just rip this up.” He says taking out your sheet of paper and holding it out in front of him ready to shred it.

You panic and hold your hand out to stop him. “Fuck fine, I’ll move in with you.”

“Perfect, I’ll clear out the guest bedroom this week and you can move in on Saturday.” He smirks, and resumes to his meal.

Once again he’s won, but you will find a way to have the upper hand one of these days. “This is so dumb I still don’t understand your reasoning.”

There’s a part of Namjoon that also doesn’t understand it. That part of him he’s pushed away for years. It’s the part of him that wants you there with him. It’s incredibly selfish. He’s aware he’s asking too much of you already, but he hopes having you in his home will give him an excuse to come home. Lately, he’s been tired of just his plants and artwork receiving him when he gets home.

Yet, that’s something he won’t ever admit out loud either.

“It just makes things easier.” He shrugs, shutting down the conversation. Leaving you to wonder if his actions have more meaning to them than his words.

[wildbluesorbit]

Wounded II || JTK

…A Continuation of London

18+MDNI

Paring: Jakexreader(f)

LONDON SERIES MASTERPOST

A/N: It’s arrival is finally upon us… so sorry it only took three weeks:( I promise the wait was worth though; out of the whole series, this installment was my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE to create !! Shoutout to @tommie-gvf for editing:) I am beyond excited to hear what y'all think!

i didn't notice the last 2k words cut off (x)

Summary || Navigating through the aftermath of your argument, you can’t bring yourself to face Jake.

Content Warnings || toxic relationship, agoraphobia, haphephobia, explicit depictions of night terrors/panic attack, brief mentions of anger and physical aggression and bodily harm and murder/death and sexual assault, verbal aggression, reckless/distracted driving, brief mention of drug use, unsolicited touched, allusions to depressive and isolative episodes, [non-aggressive] unannounced entry into readers bedroom, a very brief boner lol

Word Count || 7.2k

— JAKE —

You wince at the strain of your stiff muscles propped against her bedroom door, eyes accosted by the morning light. The sequence of how the cold hard floor became your bed for the night is less than clear. Your only clues, the taste of liquor and guilt still bitter on your dry tongue, you are most likely the asshole. 

You will your aching body upwards, the pounding in your head follows your first step. You accomplish the odyssey that is the hallway to your bedroom and start on your appearance for the studio; the account of the night before depositing itself moment by moment as you ooze about your room. 

Still couldn’t get your puppy out of her little cage?

You cringe as you brush your teeth and fight your tangled tresses to loop into a low bun, a tangible distraction to repress the clawing conviction. 

I heard she won’t even let you pet her.

A huff escapes you as you slip on your socks and step into your boots. You grab your coat, intent on heading downstairs, but you instead find yourself not strong enough to withstand the gravity, unable to accomplish your trek to the stairs; slave to the magnetic field of her bedroom door. You try to sketch out some impression of last night’s details, but clarity refuses to reveal itself to you. You study the ridges of the wooden frame and grumble to the clueless girl you pray is comatose on the other side.

The sound of your older brother calling you from downstairs breaks your spell as you shuffle towards the source.

The guy who put his hands on you has got nothing to do with me. 

Don’t you think you’ve carried this weight way too far?

Thick eyebrows furrow in your direction as a baffled Josh canvasses your face for any indication as to why you struggle to recite a simple breakfast order; your disconcerting recollections jerking you by the reins in and out of disassociation. You almost wish you could remain inviolable in your amnesic ignorance. 

When are you going to stop being so apathetic towards this?! 

You shake off your shame as you put aside the freshly delivered food on the kitchen counter for her to find after she wakes up. You lock the front door after Josh walks through and take a deep cleansing breath before you step into your car, knowing you can’t take this baggage to the studio with you. 

You don’t get to speak to me this way.

I’ll be out the door.

Your twin yells over the roar of the rumble strips from the passenger seat as you stray into the shoulder, “Jake?! The road!”

Fuck you, Jacob. 

Just another thing you have yet to do. 

You plug in at the studio, butchering and tripping over riffs of your own design. 

The completely broken and mortified look you painted on her face.

The vision curses you blunderingly dumbfounded.

“Okay, let’s take a quick five,” Josh says over his brothers' instruments while silently interrogating you from across the booth.  

You mentally rewind to realize you had completely missed your entrance.

An aggravatingly tone-deaf Sam challenges the sudden hiatus, “But we just started?”

Josh blusters his youngest brother a look that threatens unbridled rage. 

A sympathetic Danny steps in to rescue a clueless Sam from Josh’s wrath, “Sam, want to go get high?”

Like dangling shiny keys in front of a toddler, Sam’s attention is now fixated on Danny’s proposal. The two giggling men giddily scurry out of the booth up to no good. As soon as the exit door swings shut Josh stomps over to you, rolling his eyes.

He unpacks his authoritative older sibling's tone as his hands wildly comb through the air for your confession, “Okay, enough moping, out with it.”

You don’t even bother armoring a defense. You know very well you would end up confiding in Josh sooner or later. You ineptly unload every detail you can extract from memory in an iniquitous admission to your twin. 

You haven’t even finished speaking your closing statement when a pinching sting burrows against your skin as a result of Josh’s backhand assailing your bicep. You hiss through pressed lips and rub over the infliction with your opposite hand, yet you don’t dare challenge the considerably clement treatment. 

“You are such a prick sometimes, I swear,” Josh professes through gritted teeth.

You’re so consumed by your guilt you can’t even concoct an offense.

“Do you think she's going to leave- Fuck, I would never speak to me again,” you answer your own question.

Your pleading eyes frisk over Josh’s identical features, hungry for some kind of reprieving answer. Yet his same honest spirit that knots and kneads your stomach is the same one that always gravitates you towards Josh for counsel in the first place.

“I can’t answer that for you, but I think it's important you at least give her enough distance to think clearly,” Josh dismally warns. 

Your thumb and middle finger start at the crease of your eyebrow and rub outwards to your temples, tugging at your skin till your fingertips reach your hairline and fall through your tied-back strands, “Did I fuck this up, Josh?”

You almost wish you couldn’t read his expression of pessimism as Sam and Danny reenter the studio, bursting at the seams with a laughter that you can’t even fathom in this moment. Their giggles cut right through your exchange with your twin. Josh squeezes your shoulder and gives you a smirk of consolation before resettling himself in his designated portion of the booth. His way of wordlessly telling you to keep your chin up and you’d discuss it later. 

You try your best to adjourn your sins for now as you know it is time for studio work and studio work only, yet still stumble and topple through every note without a hint of grace until the very last beat of the session. 

—YOU —

”Went to the studio, will be back late.  Enjoy your day                 -J “

Jake’s handwriting on the cardboard coffee cup sleeve informs you of his whereabouts. You inhale deeply, allowing the sweet soothing aroma of your favorite roast to sweep you to a better day. You are also embraced with an alluring savory scent. You restively snatch the small paper bag on the kitchen island that rests against your drink to discover an entirely different note. 

“p.s. Jake bought you a muffin too but  I got hungry :) - the other J”

You smile to yourself and unfold the crinkled brown bag to discover the comfort of your favorite grilled chicken caprese sandwich. You giddily scurry back to your room to start your day. 

You’ve found that making lists and organizing your time usually helps your mind from wandering where it shouldn't. So, you do just that. You make your lists. You order things low in stock around the house. You check your emails. 

You know you should close your laptop once you finish your clients’ work. Yet you find your mouse hovering over a new search bar. Foolishly, the hunt for apartments has begun with only a few clicks; knowing damn well you threatened your leaving in anger and don’t plan on going anywhere.

But as you scroll through listing after listing you begin to feel like maybe it could be time to leave and move on. Maybe you are suffocating everyone, but they can’t bring themselves to tread through your undoubtedly trauma-infested waters, hoping sooner or later you’ll fall off like a rotting limb. Or maybe the problem isn’t you but your lack of a clean slate. Maybe Jake ties you to the root of the tragedy just as much as he shelters you and grounds you in its aftermath. 

Instinctively, your monitor is slammed shut as your breath begins to flee from you. Even if this is true you can't make a decision based on some childish blurt. This would take genuine rumination. Which you are incapable of, considering you aren’t a hundred percent sure this isn’t some impulsive ammunition aimed at Jake. 

You sweep your consciousness clean and distract yourself with other productivity. You journal and read and wander around till you’d find a guitar. You do whatever you can to keep yourself busy.

Before you know it, the day turns into a week. You had been going to bed early before the boys got home so you really hadn’t spoken to anyone. You hadn’t even been purposely avoiding Jake, but space is what you keep telling yourself is best for the both of you since the other night. 

It is only five in the afternoon when you hear car doors slam in the driveway from where you have been stuck in the same book for hours in the library. You instinctively shut the hardback with a smack and fly upstairs.

Even though it has been over a week, you aren’t yet ready to talk to Jake. You have certainly forgiven his assailment but you hadn’t yet figured out how to face him or his words. So you tuck yourself away in your room, never to be seen.

That is until you hear a light knocking at your door a few hours later.

You freeze, careful to not make a sound. You hope that silence will discourage whatever suitor is on the other side, enough to leave you alone. 

“It’s just me,” you hear Josh’s voice travel through your room. 

Still cautious, you impugn before moving a muscle, “Yes?”

“It's okay, Jake’s not here,” he says flatly. 

You exhale in relief but still inch the door open slowly. You guardedly investigate to discover it is, in fact, Josh and only Josh. You still greet him with narrowed eyes. 

“You can relax, sunshine, the man is on a liquor run,” Josh reassures you. 

You are accosted by his bugging eyes till he gestures to the slight gap in the doorway, “Can I come in or-?”

You ostensibly inspect him, “All right but I’m going to have to pat you for any wires.”

Josh throws his head back in a quick sharp laugh as he welcomes himself into your room, “Ha! Don’t threaten me with a good time, sunshine. But I would not spy for Jake. I’m strictly here on third-party business.”

He makes himself comfortable on your bed and sits resting against your headboard; something you’ve always admired about Josh is his ability to make home anywhere and draw close to anyone. 

Once he settles, he sets your pillows against the wall next to him and smacks his hand against your comforter a few times, ushering you to join him on your own bed. You roll your eyes with a smile and jump onto your designated spot next to him. 

You force a cheeky smile, “So to what do I owe this displeasure?”

He places his hands over his chest and feigns an offended gasp, “Well, I was just coming to check on you.”

You remind yourself that you are safe with Josh and it's only his way of showing he genuinely cares when he places his hand over yours. It's like running against the wind, but it's all you can do to not shudder and immediately pull away.

His speech carries concern as he lightly squeezes your hand, “I haven’t seen you in a few days. Is that on purpose?”

You tense a bit at the directness of his question, “Not really. You have just been going into the studio early and staying out late recently.”

“Well, just remember isolation isn’t good for anyone and-”

“Josh-,” you start but he sings over you to finish his sentence.

“...and we miss you,” he lovingly interjects. 

Your words come out sharper than you intend, “We? Who’s we?”

“Yes, we.” he mimics your satire, “Me, Danny, Sam, and especially Jake.”

“Well, obviously not too much if it's you here and not him,” your tongue instinctually retorts.

“He doesn’t want to suffocate you is all, believe me, he certainly misses you,” Josh rolls his eyes, making you curious about Jake’s behavior after your argument.

“Sunshine,” Josh cuts directly to his inquiry, tired of tiptoeing, “What happened the other night?”

“Please,” you almost snort, “I’m convinced you and Jake secretly compare bowel movements. Don’t act like he didn’t already tell you every detail.”

“I mean he did,” Josh confesses, “I just want to hear what you have to say and see how you’re feeling. It might help you to talk about it.”

“Also, you’re gross,” he blurts and narrows his eyes. 

“As much as I totally want to relive your brother’s cruel words, Josh, I trust Jake told you everything like it happened but-,” you hesitate, the realization you might not like the answer just now seeping heavy into your bones, “what happened at the bar? Between Danny’s call and Jake's temper, I can tell something wasn’t right.”

Josh’s features drop with his shoulders and an exhale, “He didn’t tell you?”

You see an indiscernible visage dart across his features after you shake your head no. You recognize it as condolence as he carefully recounts that night in every stomach-knotting detail; depicting a very doleful Jake, a “bitch-for-brains loudmouth” as Josh put it and her insolent tears at Jake, followed by his solemn exit and dodged phone calls. 

Your heart writhes from its relocation in the pit of your stomach, almost sick at the thought. Your inability to leave the house is now bleeding into all aspects of his life and polluting his liveliness you loved so; a light that has seen you through the ugliest dark. 

Josh frees you from the quicksand of your spiraling thoughts with a fragmented one of his own, “He waits for you, you know?”

He must read the confusion on your face as he rephrases, coloring in the empty lines with a bit more context, “Every night- Jake- He’ll always have this stupid giddy look on his face when he tells us the good news that you should be joining that evening. And I know my brother, he genuinely believes it. I can tell he’s not being optimistic or even humoring himself, or you. Then when he shows alone, he’s never angry or upset. He’ll just tell us you were too tired or weren’t feeling up for the outing. But I swear to you- his eyes never leave the door. Even if distracted, his body is always facing the entrance. He’ll never admit it- I’m not even sure if it's a conscious habit, but he always holds out hope that you’ll show up. We all do- just can’t hold a flame up to him. I have yet to hear him speak a bad word of you or complain of your absence. He has such faith in you, more than I think you realize, and I have yet to see it dim. I’ve never seen Jake so far gone in love with someone and he only wants to see you grow.”

Your mouth opens to speak but all words seem 10,000 miles from your horizon. Your eyes begin to pool as you try to grab at any response, his last words poisoning any other ideations. Neither Jake nor you had spoken a word of “I love you” to each other since that harrowing night, much less did he mention being in love. 

You want to ask Josh a thousand questions of what he meant by that. What has Jake said? What has Jake done? How does he know for certain? You have to leave now, right? Wouldn’t that be the selfless thing to do? Yet, you can’t vocalize one.

The debut of your salty streaming eyes ushers Josh to reel in his sermon, “Look- you don’t have to say anything- unless you want to. I definitely want to hear but I don’t want to pry. And I don’t tell you this to make you feel bad, I’m just trying to give him some credit and it's something I thought you should take into consideration. Just in case you felt as if that might be impeding you. So when you do return, that's one less thing off your plate. I promise no one will look at you differently. We're all just so eager and ready to have you back by our side again.”

His immediate addition is an exact echo of his brother, “No rush though. You do what feels right, sunshine.”

You swipe at your glossy cheeks and only nod in understanding, still unable to grasp a word. 

“Alright, I also just wanted to let you know we have a flight in the morning and  we’re out of town for the next few days,” he steers the conversation in a less hazardous direction. 

“So you’ll have the house to yourself,” he playfully wags his finger in your face, “and no ragers, young lady. I mean it!” 

“No promises, but I’ll see you when you get back,” you pucker your lips, caperingly blowing him a kiss. 

“Unless you want to be a stowaway? No one would stop you,” his eyes grow wide along with his smile; the same one that always grants you such safety when it appears on his twin. 

You lark, “But then when would I have my party?!”

“Ah, clever girl,” he accepts his defeat. 

Josh takes liberty and scoots down to lay cozy in your bed, indicating he is going to regale you with his illustriously dazzling conversation. And he does. You catch up with each other on your weeks and he tells you what they plan to do on their trip. You ask him how Sam and Danny are doing, and then Jake.

Just as he's illustrating an anecdote of some embarrassing and eccentric stunt Sam pulled to infuriate Jake today, you hear the heavy steps of tired boots coming up the stairs. 

Josh’s story is totally derailed by his twin, “He sure is heavy-footed for someone so small.”

“You know you’re just as-” you start. 

“For my whole life, unfortunately,” he shakes his head in a faux grief. 

“Well, we have an early start and I was told I can’t be late this time,” he rolls his eyes, “I better head to bed.”

Josh exuberantly springs from the mattress to his feet and theatrically bows in a goodbye, knowing better than to attempt any sort of embrace. 

He pulls away to make eye contact, “Be right back, call if you need anything.”

“Will do,” you throw him one last jest, “Have a safe flight and don’t forget Sam’s leash!”

“Please, he’s Danny’s pet, not mine,” he scoffs and saunters towards the door, “goodnight, sunshine, love you.”

You tell Josh goodnight and return his love before he winks you goodbye and gently shuts your door, disappearing behind it. 

You giggle as the sounds of him dramatically stomping down the stairs in a motion to Jake’s prior thuds through your room. 

That night, sleep hides itself away from you. Josh’s words chase each other, crashing and rattling around your head like a pack of rabid wolves. With each passing second you can’t help but think of the warm-bodied man down the hall from you. 

Is he fast asleep, unbothered by you? Is he awake? Is he thinking of you too? Does your presence burden him? Is he fighting the urge to come see you? Is your name on his lips?

Your racing thoughts are broken by the trudging of a sleepy, no doubt grumpy, Jake. 

The footsteps travel from his room and seem to concentrate as they get closer to your door, until directly in front. You hold your breath as you hear Jake mutter something and hiss in frustration. You’re only able to make out his last words as they barrel from his throat. 

“Please, just- be here when I get back,” he implores the silence of an empty hallway.

Your chest pounds erratically, your heart threatening to escape its cage. It’d only been a week but you don’t realize how much you ached for him until your bones entered a state of conniption at the sound of his slumber-rasped voice. 

You know he assumes you’re asleep and these words aren't yours to hear. You can’t help but wonder if this is the first night he’s addressed your inanimate door. Your malaised heart sings a mourning song to the resentful tune of Jake’s boots dragging him towards the stairs and away from you.

A decent night’s sleep still refuses to slip into your covers with you, so it's the sun that puts you to bed. The next few nights prove the same. You try your best to fix your sleep pattern, performing laborious tasks during the day to tire yourself out but it renders useless.

You refuse to take any kind of relaxant, as the haze always takes you back to a sensation you never want to return to. You aren’t sure if it's Josh’s words or another bad storm on your horizon, but you have become an insomniac. 

It has only been 4 days, but each one is a bit more challenging than the previous; today rains over you like a hailstorm. 

You don't want to get out of bed. You don’t want to get up to use the bathroom. You don’t want to shower or get dressed. You don’t even want to eat.

You have no wants, only musts.

You must get up, must relieve yourself, must shower, must dress, and you must eat. Or you will not survive. You will die here, swallowed whole by nothingness. No one is here to tell you what to do. No one is coming to your rescue. 

Something different. Routine is a consistent companion until it is your cage.

A break. You convince yourself you need an unfamiliar happening to overwhelm your senses. An affair to shock you back to your feeble bubble of fleeting stability. A change in scenery.

You find yourself in a hysteric pace around that front door. There is nothing to lose at this point. No one here to witness if you fail. Everyone’s words run through you.

There is no rush.

But there is. You are already behind. This house is running out of oxygen. You are already rotting here. This habit will soon blur into home. 

You take a deep breath and turn the knob. Not daring to chart with eyesight first, you fling yourself through that open door as if at any moment you might be sucked back inside. 

The air enwraps you, brisk and cool. The undeniable fragrance of a distinct autumn breeze interrupts its commute, reminding you of how miserable you’ve been without it. Your sight is allured by your new porcelain shade in the sun; you have prodigiously neglected your melanin to a pallid skin tone you’ve never worn before. 

You propel forward, telling yourself to just keep moving. You secure your place at the end of the extensive driveway and unwisely decide you can make it down the sidewalk.

You should know better than to think you could outsmart panic without strategy. You feel storm clouds roll in thick all around you; and wherever there’s rain, thunder is sure to follow.

Suddenly the boundless reaches of the stratosphere isn’t enough to save you from the suffocation of the world crumbling fast around you. You pivot until you’re barreling back down the path you came. You almost lunge through the door and lock yourself back inside.

You gait about the living room performing your breathing and self-soothing exercises. All children’s play in the wake of your hijacking terror. You eventually catch your breath but the tremors bond with you. 

Whatever was eating at you earlier was only amplified by your brief spontaneous journey outside of the house. But you had foolishly led the demon inside with you, it is now clawing at the walls and howling throughout the halls. 

You search for sleeping pills having no hope to rest organically tonight, accepting their necessity to your survival. You only look at your bed before deciding it's not even worth the noble fit of tossing and turning. You make sure you are ready for bed before scurrying into Jake’s room and crawling under his sheets. Yet you still can’t shake the feeling of a lurking apparition. 

However, the ingested medication now emanating throughout your bloodstream is impervious to your stalking condemnation. You anchor your antidote to the soothing aroma of Jake present in his bedsheets as you are shoved into void. 

You recognize the alley as soon as you are there. Beads of frigid rain pelt against your pink achy skin. The crying sky creates a misty halo against neon lights and coats everything it dances upon with a bleary gloss.

You are pinned against the wall in an instant by that vicious and nauseating smile. You try to fight but all at once you are being poked and prodded and beaten into an involuntary submission. Until your rescuer arrives.

Too enervated to attempt escape as your oppressor is distracted, Jake lunges forward. Yet he never makes contact before he falls to the ground, a dark red dye seeping from his center into his clothes. You somehow escape your attacker to see him wielding a blade.

You run to where Jake is withering away on the glittering asphalt. You attempt to cradle him, but he hisses at your touch. 

Despite his wounds, he is the one to console you, telling you you’re perfect like he always does. Your only power remains in a helpless squeeze of his hand as he pours out onto the slick black top and you see his light flicker out. 

 – JAKE –

The headlights of the car illuminate your home sweet home as the chauffeur pulls up the driveway. The incline of the path almost causes light to leak into her bedroom window, where you hope she is fast asleep, deep enough that she won’t be bothered by the slight brightness.

You got home two days earlier than expected and you plan on surprising her in the morning. 

God, how you have ached for her, lit yourself on fire for her; all to let it sift through your grasp over some drunken slurs. You wanted her to have space, but hope tomorrow will hold mercy for you as you can’t restrain yourself any longer. 

The driver reaches the house and Josh and you exhaustedly crawl out of the vehicle. You retrieve your luggage before sluggishly dragging it and yourselves to the front door. You swear you grow weary with each second of jangling keys as Josh absentmindedly sifts through each metal shard; standing helpless till he feels the right shape in his hand. The click of the lock barely registers as you are greeted by the cool A/C of the foyer and the smell of home. 

All vitality spent on your journey, neither of you has spoken a word since you landed. As you start to head your separate ways, you bid each other goodnight through a silent nod. 

Only for it to be ambushed by her petrifying heart-grating scream, “JAKE?! JAKE?!” 

One might only assume you’re prey to predators the way you instinctively soar to the stairs, up to your level, and towards her room. Without a word, you hear Josh’s footsteps apace behind you. 

You almost slam into her door moving so fast. You swing it wide open, mouth agape as she is nowhere in sight. Your heart pounds in your temples as panic now starts to clamp tight around your chest. The only other time you recall this measure of a corrosive dread being the night you couldn’t find her anywhere at that party. 

“JAKE?!”

Another scream immediately reveals her location to you. You dart out of her room, down the hall, and into yours.

There she is. Under the warm glow of your salt lamp-lit room, wrapped in your covers, leaking eyes scrunched shut, a lump of muffled indiscernible murmurs and whimpers, and visibly shaking. 

“I think she is just having a nightmare,” you authoritatively order Josh out of the room, “I’m going to wake her, but you should go, I don’t want to overwhelm her.”  

You pad towards the bed and caress whatever limb you contact first, buried underneath your blankets. Gently, you begin to coo her to consciousness.

She springs to life, petrified by your unrecognizable silhouette under the poor lighting and only just emerged from her dream state. Clumsily, she slips off the bed and tumbles to the floor, disoriented and gasping for air.

The thud from her spilled limbs on the hardwood floor nearly syncs with yours, as your knees plunge to the cold surface the moment you register her fall.

You place your palms visibly out to her, indicating her safety, “Hey- It’s me. It's Jake. I’m home.”

“No- Jake- you- he- he’s gone,” she bewilderedly sobs out almost in a question. 

You aren’t sure if she is referring to your trip or something she saw in her dream and is convinced is reality.

You keep trying to rip her from whatever hallucination has its jaws around her, “No, baby, you're safe. You’re home with me, in Nashville. I got in early.” 

She finally seems to digest your words, her glassy eyes [partially] pacified by your newly registered presence before whispering your identification, “Jake?”

When it comes to her, your first instinct is always a consoling touch, but you have learned an unsolicited embrace only runs her further from your protection. However, you have to try. 

“Yes, babygirl,” you reassure before you approach, not wanting to spook her, “can I come near you?”

You’re astounded when she only responds by leaping into your lap and wrapping herself around your torso. 

Within an instant, your arms have gratefully found their seal around her waist. Your calloused fingertips ever so slightly sink into her buzzing flesh, wrestling with every muscle, willing yourself not to tear her apart. How have you starved for the shape of her, the weight of her, the warmth of her very skin. Fuck- to finally hold her again feels so fucking good. 

“Jake- this time- and- he got you- then you-,” she fights through stuttering breaths.

“Hey, no more of that,” you gently assert to sedate whatever terroristic figments are plaguing her in your arms, “I’m here now. I've got you.”

Still trembling, she nuzzles her face into your neck and hysterically rasps out, “Jake, please don’t leave me. I can’t- Jacob, I love you. I can’t lose you. I can’t take it!”

You have no idea as to what she saw in her nightmare, only that you have never seen one leave her this rattled. You can feel her at war with her own breath as her panic continues to steal it from her.

A trick from the therapist resurfaces and you take the dips of her waist within your firm grasp to briefly withdraw her from your embrace, “Hey, I’ve got you, but I need you to listen to the sound of my voice. Focus on what I’m saying, okay?”

You don’t wait for her to respond before taking her hand and running it across the material of your blue corduroy jacket, “You feel that? It's your favorite jacket of mine, the one you always steal when we go for a drive.”

You ever so slightly draw yourself back in closer to her, “I need you to take a deep breath. Smell that? It’s the cologne you bought me for my birthday?”

She concentrates on her inhalation, occupied with taking an exaggerated breath. She slowly begins to nod.

You can see the sensory stimulation starting to ground her so you attempt to redirect her focus, “And what did I promise? I need to hear you say it.”

She takes a long shaky breath, “You- You said no more leaving. You promised.”

You place her jaw safely within the shelter of your palm and press your forehead to hers; without warning, you’re captivated by a time of exigency to live off the same breath as her.

“That’s right, and I’m here now and I’m not leaving you again,” you vow.

You scoop her back into your arms and off the floor. She clings to you as you turn off the lamp and cradle her back into the fortress of your bed, curling up around her for safekeeping. 

You caress and console and coo until finally, her quaking stops and breathing evens out as she is welcomed back to slumber. The rhythmic rising and falling of her rib cage underneath your touch lulls you into your own dormancy. 

the last scene cut off (x)

pretty please let me know what you think :))

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[siilvan]

IT'S GIVING JEALOUS-IN DENIAL-GRUMPY-SIMP!MAKAROV I- im crying

oh god i've never seen that first pic, the way he's leaned back and sorta manspreading… good lord i need him in ways disastrous to feminism. till he forgets his tragic past. gonna make him forget he wants to take over the world, save humanity frfr

*ahem* this, uh… i'm not responsible for this drabble, loosely bloodsport-based but more or less just simping, enjoy bestie 🤭

(little bit of suggestiveness BTC, y'all have been hungry for him anyway <3)

ангел – angel (pronounced as written, with a hard 'g' lol)

мое небо/moye nebo – my heaven

he is not a man often annoyed by the "small things" but this, this sight has his blood boiling beneath his skin.

you're standing across the room, about fifteen paces away, chatting with one of his captains. a loyal soldier and a fine field commander, often successful when fulfilling his orders, and makarov's willing to admit: not an unattractive man by most standards. the captain is allowed to walk behind him for a reason, he's pleased with his work.

but, he is just a captain. he holds only a sliver of the power that makarov holds. of the people in the room, he is a mere ant, something that he could crush under his boot in a fit of rage and the only quarrel would be disposing of the body. why are you so interested in him? are you not drawn in to the strength, the pride, the influence that makarov has?

he shifts in his seat, leaning forward and letting his eyes narrow at the sight. your back is to him, but the captain— oh, the captain knows very well what the look makarov sends his way means.

you've encroached on my territory.

makarov doesn't hear the next words quickly stuttered out by the man, but it's shortly after that he nods in farewell and darts out of the room. like a child being scolded; the smile that pulls at the edge of his lips gives away his feeling of cruel satisfaction. no matter how esteemed any of his men may be, he stands alone at the top.

you blink at the door after the captain darts out before visibly shrugging and shaking your head. you turn around, eyes immediately finding his, and some unfamiliar sensation tugs at makarov's heart when he catches the glimmer of familiarity in your gaze.

he shifts again, leaning back into a more relaxed position. with your attention on him once more, he can allow his shoulders to drop, his rigid posture to soften. just keep your eyes on him.

"let me guess – that excuse of 'i need to clean my knives' was actually meant to mean, 'my commander is glaring daggers at me?'" you ask, crossing the space in a leisurely stroll, far more collected than when you first arrived several weeks ago.

he chuckles, lifting a hand to signal to his soldier standing nearby. "warden, give us some space."

the masked woman's gaze flits between you two, before she responds with a single nod and a clipped "yes, commander." she marches out of the room and the door clicks shut behind her, leaving you standing alone in front of him.

"if he has time to chat, he has time to work." makarov says, his hips briefly lifting as he adjusts his position, head lolling back just slightly to look up at you.

"that's a shitty way to boost morale," you comment, mouth briefly twitching up into a bemused smile nonetheless. "why did you really send him away?"

he dismisses your question, shaking his head. "i suppose i shouldn't be surprised that a woman of your position is observant, should i?"

you smile, again, wider and longer this time. "no, you shouldn't." you mutter.

for a moment, you two are left in that position, locked in a stalemate of neither person wanting to make the next move. observing the other, attempting to read their thoughts through nothing but minimal body language. you shift your weight from one leg to the other, hands clasping in front of yourself as you tilt your head to the side slightly, barely noticeable.

your next move.

makarov says nothing more as he pats his knee, silently giving a command. it's not a question, not a request— there is no uncertainty in the action.

he catches the flash of hesitation that crosses your face, and in reply, he offers his hand. the red light cascading over the room could almost be mistaken for an omen, a sign of what is to come in the distant future as soon as you place your hand in his.

he pulls you forward, gently, urging you to close the distance yourself. take the final leap.

carefully, you step forward and place your legs on either side of his, knees pressing into the plush cushions of the sofa as you let your weight rest on his thighs. your free hand, originally awkwardly sitting at your side, comes to rest on his bicep before lightly skating up to clutch his shoulder, the crisp fabric of his suit soft under your touch.

he draws you closer still, arm moving to circle around your middle, bringing you forward until your chests are flush, your rapidly-beating heart a contrast to his own, thumping steadily as he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing an uncharacteristically chaste kiss against your skin.

"he is not worth your time, ангел." he murmurs, lowering your hand.

"and, you are?" you ask, brows lifting curiously with the question.

"by birth right, i am," he replies quickly, voice low but confident. he isn't hiding the confession, he's reserving it for your ears alone. "no matter how many men may catch your eye for a fleeting moment, no matter how many think they stand in front of me in the queue for your hand, i will always be at the front, even if i must eliminate the competition to do so. i was born superior, i alone am worthy of your grace, мое небо."

a small part of you wants to argue, to tell him no, he has to earn that privilege, but a far larger part of you keens at his words, at his hands on you, gloved fingertips dancing along your spine and digging into the plush of your hip.

"you seem awfully confident for a man silently begging to be touched." you mutter, a sharp exhale escaping you when his hand leaves your hip to slowly slide up your side, thumb trailing along your front and stopping just below the curve of your breast.

he chuckles, dropping to a gravelly whisper as his lips hover mere inches from yours, dark eyes boring into yours and rendering you immobile.

"kiss me, then." he says, unabashed. "please, ангел." he adds after a beat, tongue darting out to wet his lips. the darkness in his gaze gives way to hunger, like a beast eyeing prey, waiting for it to run so he can give chase.

you draw in a breath, metaphorically and physically swallowing down the hesitation that bubbles up again. he has you right where he wants you, caught in his trap, but as his hands push you down, his hips raising again to press right into your clothed core, you find that you suddenly don't care.

you practically fall into his embrace, cupping his jaw and pressing your lips to his, matching the predator in hunger; like a rabbit leaping on a wolf instead. his firm grip becomes almost painful as he tugs you impossibly closer, his hand coming up to the nape of your neck, holding you in place against him.

you should have expected him to take over, to reclaim his spot in control. the most makarov will ever do is share, which alone is an honor, but he will never completely give his control away.

you're falling deeper, watching the light fade as you burrow farther into the earth, further into the pitch blackness that is him. it's hard to care, nigh impossible to think about anything else when you're so far down the rabbit hole.

worry about his touch, his lips, the satisfied rumble in his chest when he practically purrs your name against your lips. everything else can wait.

[liberalk1tsch]

10 first lines

rules: share the first line(s) of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns!

ty @adsosfraser for the tag lol

seeing as many of my published fics have been scrubbed from the internet due to my mother stumbling across my wattpad in 2014 and forcing me to deactivate my account (i can’t blame her — i was 12 and hoping i’d get sold to one direction), i don’t have many that are actually public🫣🤗

so here’s a few published mixed in with unpublished/wips

1. Sparks Fly: (everlark, published, finished)

The frosty air around me has long since stolen the warmth from my hands and the once-steamy flask of tea they grip tight. My body is stiff all over, as if my muscles themselves have frozen in the harsh January weather. If a predator were to attack me now, the odds of me walking away unscathed are miniscule. I should get up, get the blood flowing through my veins. I should do so many things. Say so many things . . . But instead I sit, still and silent as the first rays of dawn begin to break over the horizon and the calls of birds begin to split through the trees.

2. Made of Ashes: (everlark, published, wip)

I slide a hand down to my swollen belly and stare at my shoes, watching as a fine layer of ash settles on the worn leather of my boots. A few yards away is where the bed I shared with my sister, Prim, stood. Over there was the kitchen table. The bricks of the chimney, which collapsed in a charred heap, provide a point of reference for the rest of the house. How else could I orient myself in this sea of gray?

3. Cruel Summer: (everlark, published, wip)

I try to scream, but no sound escapes my throat as my head is shoved under the surface of the slimy, foul-smelling water of the Capitol’s underground tunnels. I thrash against the two sets of hands holding me down, but it’s no use as the eerie, smiling faces of Coin and Snow swim into my vision.

4. The Loneliest: (everlark, temporarily re-unpublished, needs reworking and planning)

I grip my father’s hand tightly, dreading the moment I know he’s going to let go and push me towards the line of all the other 5-year-olds already forming outside the classroom door. It’s my first day of school, and I know I should be excited, but all I feel is an anxious pit in my stomach.

5. Exuent: (mrs. everdeen x mr. everdeen origin, unpublished)

I slump my head in my hands, the scorching summer heat starting to get the better of me as I shift uncomfortably in the apothecary stall. I hate summer. Really, truly hate summer.

6. untitled gtb (unpublished, NOT sparks fly related, peeta’s pov)

I find her laying on the sofa for the fourth morning in a row. Not eating. Not sleeping. Just . . . staring. At what, I have no idea. But her gaze is fixed on something outside the window.

7. untitled victory tour wip (playing with calling it temporary fix) (yes i have a fixation on them getting caught sneaking away and the whole «nights on the train» thing, idc) (unpublished, peeta’s pov)

“You wanna get away for a bit?” I whisper softly into her ear as the song we’ve been dancing to fades into another. She has that artificial, inauthentic smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes. The same one she always uses whenever we have an audience. The same one that’s fallen ever so slightly with each question she’s had to respond to, every congratulating compliment she’s unwittingly received.

8. untitled random wip i started and never finished for my friends: (everlark, smut)

I wake with a start, but it's not the usual nightmares plaguing me tonight. The symptoms of a nightmare are all there — my thundering heart, my body breaking out in a sweat, shaking uncontrollably, my throat hoarse from crying out. But then there's the heat in my stomach I connect only with those kisses with Peeta in the cave.

9 and 10 are 5sos and 1d fics that somehow survived the wattpad purge by hiding in my google docs but will be remaining nameless and sentence-less bc i should not have been writing those things as a 12 y/o💀

anyways, they’re unnecessary — the common denominator is that i’m a Certified Yapper who might enjoy narrating a little too much

tagging: literally anyone who feels like it😅 i’m tired and can’t think of anyone rn

[deadlynavigation]

Grovel

Warnings: none.

Author's Note: It's funny because if my friends (who have been trying to get me to watch Star Wars for years) had told me that Anakin is hot (lol get it because Mustafar) I would have watched the series a lot sooner.

Find the Darth Vader Version here.

Navigation

“What the kriff was that?” You burst into the briefing room.

Anakin turns to you, the rest of the politicians following his action. Once he sees who it is that interrupted his report, he curses silently, fear taking over his expression.

“Everyone out.” The general demands. He cannot afford any witnesses.

The politicians slowly cycle out, squishing between you and the doorframe as you refuse to move from your defensive stance in the middle of the action. Mumbles of “sorry” and “pardon” are directed towards you every so often, no one brave enough to ask a decorated war hero to move.

Once everyone is out, you slam the door shut, not breaking your gaze from where he is quite literally shaking in his boots.

Silence envelopes the room. Both wait for the other to speak in what has to be the most uncomfortable tension in the galaxy.

Not one minute passes before Anakin starts to speak.

“Baby, I apologize-”

You cut him off with a laugh. “You apologize. That’s cute, honey.”

Anakin sighs. “I don’t know what you’d want me to do.” And he really doesn’t- he’s never screwed up this badly, and especially not on a mission that you orchestrated. He doesn’t know the protocol to calm you or even just apologize.

You tilt your head in interest. The gears start turning in your mind, thinking of the best way to pay your lover back for his abominable performance today, just as he has done many times before to you. It’s only fair.

“I’d have you get on your knees.” And you wait.

Anakin closes his eyes briefly before bending himself down to his knees. And though it wounds his ego in more ways that he can imagine, he pushes through the emotional hurt for you.

You notice his hesitation, a pleased expression overcoming your face. Again, it’s only fair. Even if that means his ego is shattered into hundreds of miniscule pieces.

“Now grovel.”

“Y/n-”

“Grovel.”

The silence returns, with you staring him down fiercely and him fighting everything that has been shoved at him by the Order in order to fulfill your wishes. It takes one, two minutes of this back-and-forth before he finally comes up with the words, ready to lay them at your feet in hopes of forgiveness.

“Baby. My love. Y/n. I am so sorry for my actions and am willing to do anything to make it up to you.”

You tilt your chin up as he speaks, eyes softening.

“My apologies can only go so far, so I offer you myself along with any other future opportunities. I can only hope that you take this with grace, even though I know fully well that I do not deserve even that.”

Maker, if anyone walked in and saw the great Anakin Skywalker on his knees for a warrior of your sort, begging for forgiveness, he’d get kicked off this planet.

You, however, don’t care in the slightest. So you let him kneel in the tense atmosphere for a minute more before gesturing for him to rise, signifying that his groveling did indeed work and he is free to go.

“That will do, I suppose.” You admit somewhat begrudgingly.

“Thank you, Y/n.” Anakin strides over to where you stand, lowering his forehead to rest on yours. “And when I offered myself, I meant it.” He grins, some of his ego returning.

“Ani.” You sigh exasperatedly. “But yeah, I know.”

“So if you know… I’m only saying, we do have some free time. I was almost finished with my report anyways, and you don’t have anything on your schedule today, last I checked.” He bites his lip in anticipation.

You groan, not willing to admit that he’s right. “You’re the worst.”

“That’s not what you were saying last night.” Anakin finishes off strong. You push at his face, trying to smother your smile before he catches sight of it. He doesn’t mind at all, moving your hand to an angle where he can coat your knuckles in innocent kisses.

“Fine,” you give in. “But we’re going to the beach if you want alone time with me.”

Anakin throws his head back and whines. You pay no attention to it whatsoever.

“We can set up a blanket on the sand, maybe walk around in the sand, throw some sand around-”

“OK, Ok. I get it.” Anakin interrupts you, laughing. “Let’s just go to my room. Come on, while Obi-Wan can’t see.” He lightly grabs your forearm, whisking you away to his room while you think on how to get some sand in his bed.

It’s only fair.

[p-taryn-dactyl]

Yayyy! Mick so deserves more love, honestly his character is so good, he's just m'wah 🥰

do you mind if I ask for mick angst s1, like something to do with the whole chronos thing. I'm not really sure about plot maybe reader is snarts sister. when chronos!mick captures and threatens len by saying he'll kill Lisa he mentions something about how he'd kill y/n too but he can't find her. And len says the reason he can't find her is cuz she left the ship to try and find mick when len 'got rid of him'. And later when the team have mick imprisoned on the ship they find y/n and don't trust her not to free mick so they put her in the cell with mick. Mick asks why she spent so long looking for him and left the team to find him and then she confesses that she loves him and that the only reason she agreed to join the team was to keep an eye on mick and leonard?

I'm not super great at coming up with plots lol so really just any chronos mick and snart!reader angst would be great ♡♡♡♡♡

(The angst potential micks character has is astronomical I don't understand how there isn't more mick angst on tumblr!)

a/n: hi! thank you so much for this request, I love writing for the legends!! I tried my best to follow the prompt but it might've gone off the rails at some point lol (also I agree, he has so much potential!! I hope to write more for him in the future!! word count: 1.2k

Safe and Sound

You sat in the corner of the cell, arms crossed as you stared at the man across from you. Mick deliberately kept his gaze away from you, your icy stare unnerving him. Your foot tapped against the floor, the metal against your boot echoing throughout the still air. He fidgeted his shoulder, a nervous tick you had observed over the years, indicating he was uncomfortable or even nervous. He felt the stillness in the air as a noose whereas you thrived in it, turning it in your favor. You leaned forward, bracing your arms on your knees as you cocked your head to the side. Finally, Mick broke, turning his head towards you, eyes wide in his signature angry expression.

"What?"

His voice was rough but you heard the undertone, the quiver in his words. You shook your head in response, leaning back against the glass, moving your eyes up to the ceiling, making direct eye contact with the not-so-hidden security camera. Wiggling your fingers in hello, you smirked a bit.

"You know why you're here?"

Mick's question was hesitant, like he was annoyed in the fact that he didn't know. You nodded, pursing your lips as you examined your hand. After a bit, you once more returned your stare to the fire-tinged man.

"They don't trust me. Looks like we got that in common."

Mick scoffed, shaking his head.

"Come on. Don't give me that bullshit. You probably have them wrapped around your finger, especially your brother."

You smirked, shrugging your shoulders.

"Of course I do. That's why we're not dead yet. You forget not everyone aboard the ship is a hero."

Mick turns his head to you, raising a singular eyebrow. He sighed in defeat, shaking his head.

"Alright, Y/N. Why don't they trust you?"

"Because they think I'll let you out, so," you raised your arms, "here I am."

Mick looked like he was about to respond but the door to the brig opened, revealing your older brother.

"Lenny!"

You waved at your brother, not making to stand up.

"Y/N...Mick," Len's eyes barely left yours to acknowledge Mick, "Just checking up on you."

You scoffed, zero malice in your tone.

"You mean you were sent on damage control duty. Don't worry, brother, we're both in one piece."

Len's eyes strayed over to Mick where they hardened with pain and apologies. He nodded stiffly before walking out of the brig without another word, very out of character for him you noted. It stayed silent before you felt Mick’s eyes on you. Stubbornly, you kept your eyes on the entrance of the brig. You had been in the cell for what felt like forever, why would he only want to talk now? 

“I threatened Lisa.” 

His rough words and tone made you stiffen before you forced yourself to relax, turning your head to face Mick, one eyebrow raised. Mick seemed to wait for your response before realizing you weren’t going to answer. Letting out a small growl of anger, he continued. 

“I threatened you as well, Y/N. But unlike Lisa, you were nowhere to be found.” 

You heard the hidden question in his words. Where were you? 

Gritting your teeth, you position your body away from the assassin, the atmosphere of the room no longer giving you comfort. You no longer had the high ground, with one question, you no longer held the power. 

“Y/N.”

Just your name.

That’s all it took. 

“I was looking for you. I didn’t believe Len when he said he took care of it, didn’t believe the team when they said you were dead. I was trying to get you back.” 

To your horror, your voice started to waiver towards the end of your words, breaking your composure. You were sure Mick noticed your weakness and you braced yourself for the taunting words of Chronos. But when you built up enough courage to finally look Mick in the eyes, all you saw was him. No Chronos, no time lords, no manipulation. Just the man who protected you for as long as you could remember, the man who had buried himself so deep in your heart you knew no one would ever take his place. 

“Why would you leave?” 

Before you could reply, he continued. 

“Why would you care so much to leave your family?”

At that you broke, allowing your emotions to show on your face.

“You are my family, Mick. I love the team, I really do but I lo-”

You stopped before you could let the words finish, Mick’s gaze becoming intense as his mind filled in the words where you stopped. Clearing your throat, you steadied yourself and then continued.

“We all promised each other we would stick together. I don’t break promises, you know that.”

The air was thick with tension and unanswered questions as you continued to feel Mick’s eyes boring into you. Scoffing, you waved your hands in the air, as if you could swat away your words like you would a fly. 

“Anyways, I think we-”

“What were you going to say?” 

Mick’s voice once again made you pause. You chuckled nervously, another weakness you internally scolded yourself for. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mick.”

Mick scoffed. You heard him stand up to walk the few steps to stand in front of you. You felt your heart beating so loud that it was the only thing you could hear. You slowly raised your head to look up at Mick, his eyes full of confusion. That surprised you. He knelt so that he was eye level, not letting you look away. 

“I-,” you swallowed, steadying yourself, “I was saying that I lo- oh, shit, am I really doing this?” You whispered to yourself as you put your head in your hands.

“I love you, Mick. That’s what I was going to say.”

The silence was loud as it stretched between you. When you finally worked up the nerve to remove your hands from your head, Mick’s eyes were filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite determine, while also shining with a dimmed hope. 

“Why?” 

His question rattled you to your core. Which was evident in how you started sputtering. 

“What? What do you mean why? Mick, you’re amazing! Do you not know that?” 

The look in his eyes answered that question. 

“Oh come on,” you whispered under your breathe, deeply disturbed by the thought of Mick not knowing how incredible he is, “Mick, you’ve been through things that would make most people insane, you’re always there to be a support, no matter how hard you try to hide it, you genuinely care. That’s something that’s so beautiful about you. You give your all to your relationships, so much so that it burns you. I’m constantly amazed by you and if anyone has told you otherwise then-” 

You were interrupted by Mick pulling you into his arms, hiding his face into the crook of your neck. The only coherent thought in your mind throughout the internal screaming was how out of place this felt. That Mick was willing to drop his guard down to show his affection and gratefulness towards you. With tears in your eyes you returned the hug, knowing that while you and Mick had a long way to go, this was an incredible start.

a/n: i am so sorry for how rushed the ending is! i hope this was semi-ok

[c0ffinrehearsal]

ten lines, ten people

so many of y’all tagged me - @motswolo is the most recent so u get the tag lol. I don’t have 10 posted fics or WIPs so you’re getting a mix of both. and they’re not all first lines xx

After, it's dead silent in the room for a beat - and then Sirius is heaving huge, wracking breaths and saying, "What the fuck, oh my god," under his breath over and over again and Remus is still just staring like it's all caught up to him. His mouth has dropped open into a soft bow of shock and he looks down at his hand like he can’t believe it’s attached to him. - i’ve got diamonds in my eyes (for you)

Sirus had never been a particularly self-conscious person, not even when he started wearing skirts and dark eye makeup. He had simply shown up to class one day in a short, black velvet dress and all but snarled at anyone who looked at him. At almost anyone who looked at him. Remus had pressed a hand on the small of Sirius’s back, smiled and said, “Velvet really suits you. - dirty valentine (written for greenie <3)

The knife is gone for a moment, the fingers pulled out to the tip. And then Sirius feels the blade against the small of his back, lined up straight with his spine. Everything is still. Sirius knows that Remus isn’t hesitating, he’s just making Sirius wait, keeping him on his toes. (cw: blood, knives) - overflow

His eyes are silver and unassuming as moonlight, the kind of glow that pulls secrets from your throat. Silver-scaled trout on a tense, strong line. 

This too-big feeling, Remus knows, is a promise that the other boot will drop. Waiting for the pendulum to swing, suspended - the comfort of the inevitable. This is a game that Remus is very, very good at. - the dislocated room

 If this is what it is to let someone in, Sirius wonders, then he has no idea how people manage it on a day-to-day basis. It’s completely devouring, it’s eating Sirius up from the inside out and no, he doesn’t want it to stop. - boot theory

“You are absolutely killing it today, I bet Remus is shaking in his little sneakers at the sight of you,” James said, soothing, clearly holding back a laugh.

“Please just go to the till, James,” Sirius said, more embarrassed than he’d ever been, “And let me sweep up the scraps of my ego in peace. - untitled lil bookstore au

Maybe it would’ve been different if Sirius hadn’t grown up picturing himself inside the fairy tales he read in secret - if he hadn’t expected kindness from a world that didn’t understand him. Maybe then the inevitability of it all wouldn’t feel so much like one big cosmic joke, Sirius sparkling right in the center of it. - crush / i had a dream about you

Remus Lupin knew all about the city boys. He knew how they would kiss, how they would press against him in the dark and leave nothing in the morning but the mud from their still-shiny boots on his hardwood floors.   -untitled cowboy thoughts that might make it into a fic w/@greenvlvetcouch

“James I do not need you to be responsible right now, I need you to tell me that I’m normal and I can do this,” Sirius says, trying not to sound as small as he feels.

James turns around from the fridge with a bag of bagels in one hand and a jug of orange juice in the other and smiles at Sirius in the soft sad way that someone would typically direct at a distressed child. - you wouldn’t like me - wolfstar in 2005

[gr00vyminibus]

Was waiting on somebody to ask for a lil sum sum 😋 LOL but loooook

Exhibit A: thats lashana in the picture by the way&^$":; context - areto of scynthia is a really smug pirate captain and the reader is a maiden thats internally fed up but she can't necessarily disobey;

When you avert your gaze, Areto follows. Her tooth which was embellished with a golden crest, shone brightly in her menacingly wide smirk.

She orders you to, "focus on me, not them." as her deft holds your attention. You notice the splattered crimson raspberry jam on her dresshirt.

"Well," areto says making herself comfortable in her seat as you feel a twinge of regret for your own clumsiness at that precise moment. Her sheen brown chest rises in excitement.

"Fetch a napkin and wipe it up." She said, you glance up feeling choked by dark aura surrounding her. Tricorne hat tipped over a pair of voidful eyes.

Such a heartless pirate.

— they are mainly my words from the text I inserted in the generation box AI just makes it sound so much better and uses wide ranges of vocabulary with great description, website source :(1) AI plot generator

Exhibit B: according to last one, this is a continuation. (2) AI plot generator

Areto watches you cry silently as you wash the dishes, the corner of her lip twitching as she itches to find a solution to ending your dismay. Her boots thud into the kitchen startling you as you quickly wipe your tears and glance back.

"Captain, is there something you need?" You ask , trying to hide your vulnerability.

"No, may I ask why you were just shedding tears?" Areto inquires, her eyes filled with compassion. You swallow hard and continue washing the dishes.

"It's nothing, Captain", hoping to end the conversation.

But Areto won't let it go. She tilts her head and pulls your locs from your face, revealing your tear-stained cheeks. The skin of your cheeks heat up at her touch and you spare Areto a glance, peering into her deep irises.

"Tell me," Areto insists, her voice soft but firm.

You drop the dishes into the sink, your anger starting to brim within. "I'm pathetic, is all," you say, voice shaking. Her hand travels to your jaw holding it and you can feel Areto's blunt and unpolished fingernails bound to dig in your skin.

"Oh angel, you're anything but," Areto whispered in your ear, her breath hot against your skin.

"Would you like me to prove it to you?" You nodded, unable to speak as she lifted you up in her strong arms, chiffon rags sliding against her satin robe.

She carried you to her cabin, laying you down on the bed with a gentle thud. You looked up at her with wide eyes as she leaned in to kiss you with such passion that you whimpered against her lips.

"Pathetic," she said, pulling back and looking down at you with a smirk. "I don't want to hear that word from you again. Would you allow me to take these off of you, angel?" You shook your head, feeling her hands slide under your gown and peel off your soaked undergarments.

In the moonlight filtering through the window, her gaze lingered on your glistening center, it beckoning for her touch. "Raise this gown up nice and high for me," she commanded, and you complied, feeling her settle herself between your legs.

Although, you couldn't help but feel nervous. You had never been with a woman before, and you didn't know what to expect. But as Areto's fingers explored your body, you felt a hunger awakening inside you. A hunger for her touch, her kiss, her love. As she worked her magic on you, you moaned and writhed beneath her.

Back arching as hands caressed your breasts, a rush of pleasure flooding your senses. You fisted handfuls of her luxuriant locs, moaning and gasping as she drove you wild with pleasure. It wasn't long before you finished on her awaiting toungue.

"Areto," you whimper as she cleans it up, too sensitive to bear it. She quites you and gives a gentle kiss to your middle before crawling back up your body. You settled in her arms as Areto whispered sweet nothings in your ear and stroked the skin of your back.

"There's nothing you should cry about. Uess your crying good tears"

"Your unbelievable"

I'm fooling around with ai plot generator. Just to keep myself entertained yall- I'm blushinhghgggh 🤭🤭🤭🤭😚😚

[toournextadventure]

Not sure if you're accepting requests but... I was thinking about Wednesday x gn!reader who asks her to the Rave'N dance then she's surprised cause reader matches her outfit and doesn't wear the correct theme of the dance. For the first time Wednesday is genuinely astonished and likes reader even more when they're covered in blood (red paint lol) 🤭

You know the vibe, our girl has a VERY specific taste in partners 😌

we match

Dances were pointless. School dances were even more pointless; they were truly nothing more than an excuse to put a bunch of teenagers into one room and put the social hierarchy on full display. Wednesday could admire the sadomasochism of it all, but that did not mean she wanted to attend. She was not her mother, she was not her father, and she did not care about the Rave’N.

She only agreed to go with you because she felt sorry for you, that was all.

“You look stunning!” Enid practically screamed in the most shrill voice Wednesday had ever heard.

“I look ridiculous,” Wednesday commented, although she would silently admit she did like the dress.

“It’s not the theme, but it suits you,” Enid continued more seriously with a small nod. “When is your date getting here?”

“Not a date,” Wednesday said, “but they should be here soon.”

As if she had summoned you herself, there was a knock on the door. Enid was on the verge of running to the door when Wednesday gave her a glare that had her shaking in her obnoxiously loud white boots. Wednesday herself walked to the door and opened it, fully prepared to ask if you were ready to torture her with this stupid dance and-

-and your outfit was black. You matched her dress.

“You look stunning,” you said with a small smile. It was nauseating. She wanted you to do it again.

“That’s what I said,” Enid chimed in; she ignored the look Wednesday sent her this time. “And you both match!”

“Well yeah, she’s my date,” you said with a shrug. Wednesday glared at your word usage. “But speaking of matching…” you pulled your hands from behind your back and held up two black rose corsages. “Now we can pull up in style.”

“Oh my god, that’s so cute!” Enid cheered.

But Wednesday wasn’t listening to her. No, she was focused on your hands, and the way your fingers brushed against her skin as you slid the corsage over her wrist. The way you just yanked yours over your own wrist without the same tenderness. Or your tongue poking out just past your lips as you readjusted your outfit, smiling once it was the way you wanted it.

“You ready to go?” You asked, holding your arm out for Wednesday to take.

She didn’t say anything, just slipped her arm through yours and let you lead the way. You walked tall with your head held high; unusual for you. Yet as soon as you were with her you were a new person. Heads turned as you both stepped into the dance, but you just looked down at Wednesday.

“Everyone is staring,” you said just loud enough for her to hear. “How about we give them something to talk about?”

You held your hand out for her to take, and Wednesday hesitated for only a moment before taking it; it was warm and soft. The way you moved was like a spectral ghost, feet barely touching the floor, movements so smooth it was mesmerising. But what Wednesday was still so focused on was your outfit.

What had possessed you to wear black? It wasn’t your typical colour palette; you wore it, but not religiously. Yet today, the day of all days, you wore all black. You knew the theme of the Rave’N this year was white, and you loved white. Had you truly done all of this for her?

If so, it was foolish. No one should abandon their interests or desires for someone else. That led to weakness, and weakness could be exploited. By doing this in front of everyone, you were admitting that she was your weakness. Someone was going to use it against you, or worse, try to use it against her to get something. Not only were you admitting your own fallacy, you were setting her up for exploitation.

And yet, Wednesday had to admire you. She wanted to admire you. You had accepted your feelings, had accepted the possible looks and words thrown at you, and you had done it anyway. For some unknown reason, you had gone out of your way to wear something black, something that matched her dress perfectly, and you were doing it with a smile on your face.

No. No, she didn’t like you. At least not aloud.

You ended the dance with a dip, holding her suspended in air with a smile on your lips. She still liked it. But your smile morphed into a slight frown, your face displaying confusion. What were you looking at? Wednesday was about to open her mouth to ask when she noticed a new red spot on your nose. Then on your cheek, where it dripped down.

Those few drops were the opening of a floodgate, and the sprinklers went off. You pulled her back up to her feet, holding her close and doing your best to shield her from the bloody rain. She didn’t mind, and you didn’t seem too concerned, but you tried. And they say chivalry is dead, Wednesday thought as your face became coated in the thick red liquid.

It really brought out the colour of your eyes and looked fabulous in contrast to your outfit.

“You look stunning,” Wednesday said aloud, mirroring what you had told her earlier.

You lowered your head to look at her and slowly, almost sadistically, your smile grew. The blood accentuated your smile.

Wednesday loved it.

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 23: PRETTY BOY

emotions run wild when everyone is drunk and hardly coherent. quackity is always loud, but tonight is a full on assault on the senses (the ears, in particular). bretman simps for corpse too much for your liking. rae is happy for once. there’s a confession of love somewhere in there. sister james makes a very good impostor, but that’s old news, the real question is who gave you a knife? a new persona emerges that leaves the roaches quivering in their boots.

─── corpse husband x reader, a lil bit of everyone x reader (because she’s a queen) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: a lil over 7k.

author’s note: it’s the way i can’t follow a fucking calendar for me. sorry guys, i swear to god i thought i had one more day before thursday . the idiot award goes to me and i accept it with pride. anyway, i was excited to write this for a while! quackity is in mexico, that’s why he drinks, too. my fic, my rules, he’s too funny not to include. im also working on an extra w dream and mr quack so look forward to that, too! hopefully u like this part ily xx and as always lmk wat u think!!

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous. ҉   next.

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The outfit for today was picked with care and consideration. Hot, as always- you had forgotten your roots, your hoodie and sweats lay hidden in the bottom of your drawer never to be worn on stream again. You’ve changed. Clout really does that to people. Some viewers, naturally, find your hotness near insulting: how dare you rub your beauty in their faces, and so unabashedly, too?! If only you had a twinge of self-awareness, perhaps you would tone it down. But you don’t, and whether that’s by choice or not is the mystery the whole internet tries to solve (ARMY has been working diligently, and you admire their effort, though in the end their tireless labor brings no tangible results). 

You went from hot to hotter. In all truth, the fires eating away at California can be blamed on you. You carry this burden in stride, in your platform overpriced shoes some girl scammed you on Depop with, in your fishnets, in your skirt, in your corset, in your rings and necklaces and chains. You woke up today and chose violence. Decided your existence will be a plague to the rest of the populace, and meant it (that, maybe, you took inspiration from a certain faceless Youtuber that so happens to be your boyfriend or whatever). You feel powerful. Like you could step on the world and the world would let you. You decide that it’s the way it should always be. 

The smile on your lips informs of nothing good to your quaint, small audience of 40k. You change the lighting in your room from the soft cherry blossom pink to menacing violet. As fitting for a villain.

Perhaps California’s hellish sun has finally purged you of your bubbly, docile nature (arguably, you had never possessed it to begin with); perhaps it’s the forth mimosa you’re mixing as people slowly trickle into the lobby. Who knows?! Not you, definitely. What do all of those boring dead white European philosophers say? Embrace the unknown? Cheers, you’ll drink to that.

In stark contrast to your appearance, your room is a fucking mess. A war-zone of epic anime scale. Everything is scattered, well, everywhere. A perfect representation on what’s going on in your mind, always. You don’t like how people focus on your surroundings-- you’re the main attraction, hello? Are you not enough to sustain them? Must they beg for more?! Totally ungrateful. You shake your head in disappointment, as if a mother scolding her children. 

noooooo! mom pls forgive me i will never ask abt anything ever again T_T

yall looking at the room? lol couldnt be me

feels like im five and my mum just told me i cant eat a pretty rock i found on the pavement:(

You can’t contain your sly grin. Eyes twinkle with a purplish hue, appearing all the more menacing. You tricked them once again, oh how absolutely evil of you. In your blind delight you accidentally spill champagne on your lap.

“-Oop, fuck.” You snort.

why does she sound like goofy 

The scandalous drunk Among Us stream is about to start. You had been eerily silent through the greetings, and those that chose to approach you were met with a cold shoulder and minimal replies. All on purpose, of course. You wish to plant a seed of unease within them, and so far, it’s working. There are questions unanswered, jokes unsaid, Quackity unteased. It breaks your heart, but it must be done. You look into the camera, all vulnerable and devout, as if to say: I’m doing this for you, all for you.

pack it up yandere simulator

idk whats going on but i think im into it?

villain arc villain arc villain aRC VILLAIN ARC

“Hey, guys,” Corpse’s voices rings in your headphones, and not a blink later his astronaut appears in the lobby in a cloud of smoke, “Hi, Y/n.”

More sharp, excited hellos follow after. You merely hum, though give no further reply. As Corpse strays to your side, Charlie steps in in front of him, “BDA access only. You have a permit, bitch?”

“Y/n is being quiet-she’s being quiet, guys!” Quackity helpfully informs, as if the rest failed to notice your cryptic silence, “Don’t be sad Corpse, man, Corpse don’t be-she didn’t say shit to me either.”

“Y/n has decided to not waste her breath on the SDS.” Charlie voices, “And you know what? I actually agree with her for once.”

“SD-what now?” Dream questions.

“The Small Dick Society.” Charlie explains, noting Dream’s whine of protest, “Oh no, don’t give me that shit, weren’t you bitching about not being invited and not belonging to exclusive clubs? Congratulations, you’re finally part of one.”

“Wait!” Quackity interjects, “Am I part of it too?”

“Guess, Sherlock.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Corpse says. You nod to your audience, like he just spoke the God honest truth, and follow in his example. Your tentative sip unexpectedly turns into a greedy gulp, but you’re not complaining. The only slightly coherent thought that rings in your mind is drink tasty.

“Ignore them,” Rae chimes, “Y/n’s probably plotting something and using Charlie as a cover up.”

“I’d never.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“Well you sure are very quick to deny it.” You can hear her smirking, can hear the proud lilt in her voice, like she caught onto your silly little scheme, like she has you all figured out. Your eyes narrow dangerously. The night behind your window pools dark, with far away city lights glimmering before they, too, seem to dim. 

Your roommate is back on your shitlist. How her name was missed among the rest.

“I’m defending my honor.” You yelp, the playfulness back in your voice along with your sunny smile, “I can’t have my wifey slandering me online. At least do it in private, geez.”

If Rae’s such a good detective, you’ll give her a good chase. Perhaps you’ve been laying it on too thick. Made her too suspicious. She can’t out you yet--not when your plans are so grand, so fun. It would be a waste.

“Why weren’t you saying anything then?” Quackity questions.

“Do I need a reason not wanting to talk to you?” You shoot back. Your friends laugh and he tries to shriek something past their cackle. You lean back into your chair, the tension from Rae’s confrontation finally easing. You wink at the camera and bring a finger to your lips. The roaches swear to secrecy, elated by your wickedness. As appropriate, they spam devil emojis and various renditions of evil hohohos and hehehes. The apple truly does not fall far from the tree. You had raised them well. You raise your glass in solidarity. A few donations fall into your pocket, easily summed up as: make them suffer.

Muting the discord call, you give a single response, “Oh, I intend to.”

i hope this doesn’t awaken something in me

^already too late for me bro

As caught up in wreaking havoc among your viewers as you are, you miss Sykkuno’s entrance, though from what you can tell, Charlie gave a stern warning to back the fuck off to him, too. He’s playing into your plan so beautifully. Truly, you couldn’t do this without him. Back to stalking the chat you go.

Your eyes flicker to the game upon Bretman’s signature drawl and “Hi, daddy.”. You have no time to get offended at Corpse’s sweet “Hi, honey” back, because the next person to join the discord call and the lobby leaves you speechless. You knew, of course, you had been informed of the line-up, but still, you had never expected yourself to be so close to Jomes Chorles himself. You make a weird gesture with your hands, half wave half excited wiggle, as if you’re telling the audience to calm down, when, in fact, it is you that needs calming.

He goes saying his hello’s like doing a public service, name by name, before, lastly, uttering, “Hi, Miss Y/n. Loooove the vids.”

He’s a roach in disguise, who could’ve known?! Your audience is so diverse and unexpected, gosh, you’d shed a tear if the mascara wasn’t so expensive.

“Hi!” You reply with a grin, and it’s genuine this time, a glimmer of your old self, “Hi, I love your videos, too. It’s like, really cool to finally meet you.”

“Oh my God, you too!” Is his enthusiastic reply, “Okay, the energy in the studio today? Love it.”

“Is this all of us?” Quackity asks.

“Sadly.” James says with a note of disappointment.

“HEY!”

“Okay, guys!” Ash chimes, “Let’s do this! Proximity Among Us, round one, go go go!”

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Luck does not shine upon you during the first round- you are stuck as Crew Mate, your life cut short by Bretman who had the audacity to bite your head off. You’re positive Ke$ha wrote her hit single Cannibal about him, and if she didn’t, she definitely had a That’s So Raven moment and predicted it. It’s also insanely suspicious as after you are eliminated he sticks real close to Corpse, feigning innocence (and this is a controversial opinion you do not endorse) better than even you. It wounds your pride, having been picked off so casually, so quickly, and now stuck a ghost you roam the halls of the dying spaceship, lost, confused, heartbroken.

Charlie runs past you, not once even glancing in your direction. “Brother...” You mutter sadly, “Do you not see me here? Do you not feel... the loss of your twin’s heartbeat...?" Damn, these mimosas really are making you emotional. You sniffle and take a sip to calm the storm within you. No rage, just sadness. You are still processing your own tragic demise.

Suddenly, a meeting is called. There’s a horrible red X on your astronaut. You are the only one dead so far, and of course the rest won’t vote out the fucker. How bitterly you sit! With your arms crossed over your chest and your glare sharp enough to cut through glass. Fuck the sad shit, now you’re just angry. At the very least, the second Impostor could’ve given you some company!

“I knew something felt off.” Charlie is first to speak.

“Who the fuck killed Y/n?” Corpse questions, and his voice ignites a whole discussion that lasts much too short. The others skip, having no suspect yet. It’s much too soon to start pointing fingers, but you still feel like they should have at least tried. Pouting, you fix yourself another drink.

“Stop drinking!?” You gasp, exasperated at your chats demands, “I’m dead! What else should I do, the tasks?! Nah, fuck that. I’m done. I’m out. Charlie better employ his fucking detective skills because if the Impostors win, I will literally quit the game--yes I will, no I’m not bullshitting, fucking watch me.”

Thankfully, Bretman was caught venting, and you didn’t have to end the stream prematurely. The second Impostor, your roommate (oh, the betrayal, Rae, how could you?!) was voted out due to Corpse’s suspicion. Victory to the Crew Mates! The game restarts and you find yourself back in the lobby.

“Miss Y/n,” Bretman says, “I am sooo sorry for killing you first, baby. It was just too easy. I couldn’t pass it up.”

Giggling, Quackity chimes, “Sister slaughtered.”

“Oh my God,” James groans, “shut up!”

“Yeah, Y/n.” Charlie speaks, and there’s an accusatory note in his calm voice, “Why the fuck did you allow yourself to be eliminated first? Real noob shit, I expected more of you.”

“HUH?!” You frown, “What’s with the victim blaming?! I literally was doing my task and Bretman snuck up on me. It’s not like I had a weapon to defend myself!”

“You have been avenged,” Corpse states, “and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Corpse!” You say, “At least someone cares.”

“Hey, I helped, too!” Dream pipes up.

“No, you didn’t.” Corpse shoots him down, “I was the only one.”

“You were not--”

“Literally was. Isn’t that right, Sykkuno?”

“Uhhhh-” Sykkuno trails off, “Well, we-we all helped!” You can hear his shy smile, and you just know he’s bobbing his head up and down at this exact moment, “We all helped. Team work!”

“Team work!” The rest echo, save for yourself, Corpse, Charlie, and the two Impostors. Silence speaks more than a thousand words or whatever. You pray to any higher power willing to listen to finally assign you the role of the villain, the one you were born to do. 

Sadly, higher powers must have either shitty customer service or are in need of hearing aids, and you almost scream in frustration when your astronaut appears along with the others, the bold CREW MATE title chipping away at your master plan.

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“Hey, Y/n, hey! Hey, Y/n!” Rae finds you in Cafeteria, where you, metaphorically, are eating your feelings. Not that she needs to know, of course. She sounds chipper, a bit ditsy, and that must mean she’s sufficiently tipsy. You store that information for later, and forget about it as soon as you notice Dream and Sykkuno, like her very own personal bodyguards, trailing after her, “Wanna play a game?!”

“Is this Saw?” You inquire, somewhat lazy. You’d be lying if you said the alcohol wasn’t affecting you, it’s just instead of making you bubbly, it makes you mellow. This was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to terrorize everyone and laugh as they perished by your hand, yet here you are, wallowing in self-pity. The roaches start worrying. The donation jingle chimes.

BEATINGS & SLUTATIONS yns_fishnets donated 5$ mom just wait it out & dont worry youll get your vengeance soon lead them on!!!!

Your fishnets have a point! 

“Saw?--No, no, haa, no it’s a drinking game.” Dream sounds like he has had one too many rounds of this mysterious game, and naturally, you are intrigued.

“Where we drink!” Sykkuno clarifies. Right, well that explains everything! If you had any questions, you surely have none now.

“Okay, so, name a category, and you have to, like, say a word associated with it...Or something along those lines.” You hadn’t even agreed and Rae is explaining the rules already. She knows you too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse, “Can be anything! Okay, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n start!”

“Uhh--” If only your brain computed as fast as she spoke! “Song lyrics! Wait--who drinks?”

“You fail, you drink!” She hurries, “Choke me like you hate me but you love meeeeee. Syk, go, go go!”

“Uhm, ah, I don’t wanna feel like this, uh, fuck?” He laughs--it’s a raspy, embarrassed little sound, “I don’t...wanna look like this? Dream, now you!”

“Wait, we’re singing Corpse’s songs?”

“Any song!” You urge him quickly, “Hurry! Or drink!”

“She say I kill her cat like I'm Luka Magnotta--”

“Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use my song!” Rae protest.

“That wasn’t in the rules!” He counters.

“Y/n! Time’s running out!” Sykkuno exclaims.

“Oh, uh, will-will the real Slim Shady please stand up!”

NOT EMINEM WHAT THE FUCK

MOOOM WHT THE HELL THIS ISNT 2008 T_T

“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia’s greatest love machine--”

“All...All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better, uhh, run better run, faster...-faster than my gun?”

“Uhh, shit--fucking hell.” Dream laughs, and Rae practically screams at him to keep going, “Alright! Okay! I’m singing--uh, you’re so golden, na na na na?”

“I tell you what a woman loves most,” You chime gleefully, “it’s a man who can slap but can also stroke.”

finally, the mother mother representation we’ve all been waiting for

i aint exactly gay but i aint exactly not gay >:)

the bis won

“I steal a few breeeeaaaths from the woooorld for a minute--”

“Mitski?!” You question, eyes bulging, “Baby, who hurt you?”

Even if you can’t see her, you know she’s waving her arms around and shaking her head, “Not the point! Sykkuno!”

“Uh, I-I, uhm, I don’t--”

“Drinnnnk!” You all chorus. 

“It was a good concert,” You say, “Syk, I’ll drink with you.”

“Thank you, Y/n. That’s very kind of you.” He says softly, with a smile lining his lips. You grin.

“Oh, fine. Everyone, bottoms up!” Rae decides, and no one protest. A moment of silence passes, then, “Well, GG, GG, let’s do some tasks?”

Your enthusiastic Ariana Grande-esque “yuh” is cut short by the second meeting of game two being called. The first one to go had been Ash, voted out during a bathroom break as a joke, and you still feel a bit bad about that. Now, you notice Charlie has been eliminated. A sense of righteousness fills you--while you mourn for your brother from another mother and father and family tree, you feel like this is divine punishment for slandering you before the start of this round. Karma. Nothing much is discussed, and the meeting ends shortly with everyone skipping. 

You spend a good ten minutes wandering around with Dream, who’s mission appears to be convincing you to join his Minecraft server, and really, there was no need for him to try so hard. You failed to provide him with a concrete answer only because it would've been to humiliating to admit that you agreed instantly upon hearing the word Minecraft.

That’s when things get fucking weird. Another meeting is called whilst you’re in the middle of fixing lights, and once the board with the members appears you audibly gasp. There had been 8 living, breathing astronauts rushing around the map, and now only 4 remain. You, Corpse, James, and Alex. 

“What the fuck--what the fuck?!” You screech alarmed, noting Dream being among the perished crew, “I was just with Dream fixing the lights, I was just with him, what the fuck--”

“Okay, no one panic.” James says, “Let’s figure this out. Okay? Okay. Who else is close to Electrical?”

“I’m at Nav.” Quackity says.

“I’m at Cafeteria, but Y/n--” Corpse starts, “kinda weird that Dream died when you were with him?”

“I didn’t fucking kill him, I swear to God, Corpse, why are you accusing me?”

“Don’t be so defensive.” He says smoothly, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. We all have a reason to be sus, no? Considering you were right with him.”

“...It is suspicious.” James agrees, and a part of you dies inside. You understand their hesitance to trust you, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating!

“Guys, I didn’t kill him, I swear. He invited me to play Minecraft, I wouldn’t do that to him, not after that!”

Corpse merely hums, and it brings no comfort what’s so ever. The situation is spiraling, and not in your favor. Trying to salvage your chances at freedom, you try again, “Wh-James, James, you called the meeting, right?”

“Yeah, I found Rae’s body near Medical.”

“So I couldn’t have killed her and Dream at the same time!” You latch onto that piece of information, hoping it will save you.

“You could’ve vented.” Corpse points out, “Plus, there’s no telling how old the body is.”

“Killing five fucking people? It’s the work of one person, or else the game would have already ended. As it stands, I am no way sober enough to think all of this out.”

A brief silence hangs in the air; your lungs constrict from tension, from spilling words so hotly. You grasp your glass, as if for emphasis, and take a shy sip. It taste sweet, a bit too sweet for your liking. Must be your nerves. You drink again to wash the taste out of your mouth, which, surprisingly, doesn’t work. You whine a little, stomping your feet like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.

“...I believe her.” Quackity says. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Alex, thank youuuuuu!” You gush, batting your lashes as if he could somehow see you and that would somehow portray your innocence, “I knew I liked you for a reason!”

He mutes his mic, his spill of words lost to your ears, but chat helpfully informs that he’s screaming because you don’t hate him. 

y/n out here collecting men like pokemon cards

Now all that’s left is to convince the others. You start with the one you know will work, “Corpse,” You address him in your sweetest voice.

“Y/n,” James warns, “don’t you dare--”

“Baby, I didn’t kill anyone, I’m crew mate, you gotta believe me.”

“She's innocent.” Corpse declare, thoroughly convinced.

“Oh my fucking God, you fucking simp!” James laughs, “She’s obviously manipulating you!”

“No, no, she isn’t. She’s innocent, I agree with Quackity. Now, it’s either you or him.”

“Could be you for all we know!” Alex accuses.

“Guys, time’s running out.” You mutter fretfully, noting the seconds tick by from white to red. 

“I’m voting Alex.” Corpse says.

“What?! Fucking traitor! Fine, I’m voting for you.” Alex hisses.

“Ugh, hate agreeing with Quackity, but I’m also voting Corpse. Sorry, hon, nothing personal.” James says. The VOTED icons pop up beside their characters and you panic, pressing your mouse idly but it’s too late, there wasn’t enough time, and you cry as Corpse is thrown into lava. The chat spams F, and it feels like salt on a fresh wound.

In a second you’re back in Cafeteria, shell-shocked and trembling, and Quackity cusses because the Impostor is still among you. His frustration doesn’t last long as you watch in horror as Jams Chortles, beauty guru supreme, murders the only other crew mate in cold blood and all you can do is gape and let his cheerful laughter fill your ears. The screen bleeds red, informing of Impostor victory, the second one being Ash. Looks like you voted her off for the right reason, but little difference did it make.

“Corpse!” You yell past the cacophony of voices, all in varying forms of excitement or anger, beelining for his in-game figure, “Corpse, I’m so sorry, I panicked, I tried pressing the button but I wasn’t quick enough--”

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t worry about it.” He’s so calming, so gentle, you might burst into tears again. What did you do to deserve him? You wish he was with you so you could smother him in a hug. Alas, all you can do now is say “I kith you, mwah!” and rush to the other side of the lobby, as if to hide from such a bold display of affection, even if it was a joke (it wasn’t).

yall say corpse simps for y/n but the reality is y/n simps for corpse harder

queen stop its embarrassing

bhaddies can simp!! i wouldnt but its her choice <3

More deliberations, commentary, and short breaks. Once everyone has returned, the countdown starts. You’re still reeling from the chaos of emotions, the five stages of grief you experienced in 1 second upon Corpse’s unjust demise, that it takes you a moment, a single heartbeat to realize what you’re seeing on screen.

The letters IMPOSTOR hang above your astronaut, with Dream standing just behind you as your newly appointed partner in crime. And suddenly, all the sadness and the tenderness and sympathy vanish with a curt exhale. You slowly turn your head to the chat, muting the Discord call, your soft chuckle of disbelief turning into a full blown laugh.

it’s happening!!!! 

omg omg omg omg

VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC

You slap your palm over your lips, trying to contain your wicked smile, to tone down your broken giggles, “N-No, I can’t laugh yet,” shaking your head softly, you look into the camera, “they’re all going to die.”

pack it up light yagami

this has awoken something in me.

^ same

The crew mates go their own ways, rushing to do their tasks like the diligent little workers they are. How adorable. Their grim fate is still miles away from them. The shit you’ll pull will be for the history books. Much like your outfit, which you picked keeping in mind your newfound thirst for blood, you had devised your plan of action with care and consideration. You had been mulling it over all day, drawing on paper like the absolute madwoman you are; hell, you even made sticky notes on who to go for first and what to say. Sure, being moderately drunk hinders your memory slightly (an understatement of the century), but you got a feel for what you’re going to do. It’s nothing short of evil.

Dream and you don’t exchange words, you merely nod at him-- which he, of course, can’t see-- but your criminal bond enables telepathic communication. You can hear his thoughts, ones that strangely sound like drink drink, drink drink. And really, who are you to refuse such an enticing offer?! As he fucks off to stalk his victims, or play pretend, you take a sip. The cocktail is still sweet, but this time it’s not the icky sweet you had tasted prior. You glance at your sticky notes, ones the roaches can’t see, and nearly spill your drink for the second time today as you jerk.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, shoving your headphones off and spinning in your chair. You hastily stand up, wobble -- the world is pleasantly funny right about now -- and giggle. Stepping past the mountains of abandoned clothes and pillows and blankets and anime plushies, you maneuver your way to your bedside table and yank it open, nearly taking out the whole drawer with you. In the mess of old diaries and bad drawings, pencils, jewelry, and stickers, you fish out something you should not be wielding in your inebriated state.

It’s a knife.

In midst of teenage angst you had ordered it off of Amazon with your mom’s credit card, all the while whining that it’s not a phase, mom, and it’s what all of my cool kid friends with fried hair have, and don’t you want me to fit in, don’t you want your daughter to be happy?! You think it’s about that time, the time of too much uneven eyeliner and black eye shadow, that she took to calling you little raccoon. Trash rabbit was your personal favorite, but she used it sparingly. When you presented your Macy’s outfit, holding up a fucking butterfly knife, to your dad, asking if it was a look, he glanced up from some boring business magazine all boring business dads read and said, with a bright smile might you add, “It’s a something!”.

Oh, how it gleams in the lilac light. You used to do tricks with it, back in eight grade maybe, and--what the fuck? Why did you parents allow you to buy it in the first place? Well, because you’re the only child, the only one important, of course they got it for you and clapped enthusiastically at your performances, because why wouldn’t they? The whining they’d face otherwise would’ve been harder to endure than a whole dance number to Panic! At The Disco’s greatest hits. Broadway looked so fucking shabby in comparison. Your mom said so, so it must be true.

Stumbling back to your extremely confused viewers, you take your seat, feeling a bit more grounded now that you’re not standing on your platform shoes anymore. Putting on your headphones, you grin at the chat that starts swimming, and not from too much drinking either. You do a quick flick of your wrist, one that thankfully doesn’t end in injury, and the sharp tip of the exposed knife points upwards, glimmering. It’s a rainbow colored one, because one, it’s pretty, and two, you weren’t hardcore enough for the jet-black or straight up military ones the other emo kids had. Cute and dangerous, just like you.

So you just sit there, holding it up, looking somewhat sly as the roaches capture this momentous moment with screen-caps. Someone definitely clipped you trudging past the obstacle course to obtain a weapon of mass destruction. You must be already trending on Twitter, though you can’t exactly log on and confirm your suspicions. You just feel like you might be, like you should be, because your audience wouldn’t let this slide. Thankfully, your friends don’t have time to check social media, or you’d be outed in an instant.

“Y/n?” Your roommates voice booms from your headphones, and you perk up with a stupid realization that you completely forgot about Among Us. Stuck at the start, at the lobby where Dream had left you, you see her astronaut waddling to you, “What are you doing here? Wait--Have you not moved from the beginning?” She can barely finish the sentence without giggling. 

You grin, “I was looking for something.”

Your voice is soft, too calm for your usual frantic spill. You gently set the knife down, hand coming to rest on your mouse, fingers idly, slowly, bouncing on the buttons.

“...What were you looking for?” She’s none the wiser, the numerous drinks consumed tonight numbing her sharp mind. She would have noticed. Your eerie composure would’ve given it away in a heartbeat, or at least hinted at something being objectively wrong. But she sounds curious. Poor girl, hasn’t she heard? Curiosity killed the cat.

“A knife.”

“A knife?!” There’s something about her tone that implies a mental clicking, the puzzle pieces falling together, “You have a knife?!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

You think it would only be appropriate that the random sequence of killing animations renders the backstabbing one. You grin, biting your lower lip with a quiet snicker.

i love women

if evil bad...why seggy?

You take your time leaving her there -- in true serial-killer-to-be fashion, you stick around for a bit longer, admiring your handiwork, or more like the chat singing your praises. You joined today with the intent of making an interesting stream. You have no doubt in your mind that now it will be legendary.

You move down the hallway, and you let your imagination wander: you can almost feel the stuffy air of your helmet, can almost hear your loud footsteps echoing in all this hush, can almost see your reflection in the spotless tile floor. It’s not long before your second victim makes an appearance, running circles in Cafeteria. You hear his voice first before you see him, recognizing Alex by his unhinged screech of “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!” 

“And what’s got you so excited?” How cool and collected you are, gosh, you barely contain the quiver of excitement that threatens to slip out. 

“Y/n!” He exclaims, rushing to your side like a lost puppy--he’s really making this easy for you, he’s not even trying, “You just missed--Oh my fucking God, you just missed James, he-he called me tall, he called me fucking tall! Let’s go, let’s gooooo!”

“Well, you are tall, aren’t you?” You chime sweetly, almost as sweet as the drink that lingers on the tip of your tongue, “Real 6′3 energy, no?”

“Yes, yes, exactly! You get it, you fucking get it--” Once again, his mic goes mute, and you glance at the chat for help.

hard to transcribe what hes saying but hes taking shots and yelling that he loves you good job mom

hey, queen! girl, you have done it again, constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly

mom plz dont kill alex hes too cute hes all uwu rn

Oh, how you’re about to break his poor little heart. If you had any good left in you, you’d spare him. You don’t, and you’re not taking requests at the moment, so all you do is smile at your chat and they know. They just do. Hive-mind shit, you’re all two-faced little fuckers.

You giggle, and it sounds a tad fake, “You’re so weird, Alex,” You start, and he’s back in the call, a sound of confusion echoing in your ears, “but I get it, you know. You’re weird. You’re a weirdo. You don’t fit it, and you don’t want to fit in. I mean, really, has anyone even seen you without your stupid hat?”

“...Do--” He sputters, bellowing a laugh, “Do you have that whole fucking monologue memorized?!”

“Is it because you’re bald?”

“I’m not fucking bald!” His giddiness is quickly replaced by anger.

You hum, pretend to think, lastly barking a “Liar.” before you kill him. His scream is cut off, leaving only deafening silence at it’s wake. Unlike with Rae, you don’t stick around. You didn’t appreciate how little he enjoyed your recital.

You run into James near Navigation, most likely on his way to Cafeteria. He ends his song mid-note, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Finally! Someone! I’ve been looking all over, where the hell is everyone?” You question, blocking his way, lest he accidentally stumbles onto the crime scene and easily pins it on you. You’re not done yet.

“Honestly? No clue. I’m searching for them myself, like, everyone’s scattered. I hope no one died.”

You smile. You tried not to, but you can’t contain it, “Me, too.” You echo the sentiment, urging him to join you, and he does. Too trusting. Everyone in this game is too fucking trusting. You lead him back to Nav, feigning that you have a task here. As you pretend to move the spaceship, you can’t help but ask, “Hey, James?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A beat of silence passes, “Oh no, fuck that, I don’t like this at all.” He states, about to spin on his heel and bolt like he should do, but you’re quicker-- killer instincts and all-- and he’s dead before he makes it out the doorway.

“See, after your No More Lies video, I figured you’d only tell the truth.” Yes, this is the part of the anime where the villain monologues, only the hero in this case is an astronaut cut in half, and not exactly alive to listen to you. You hope James’ ghost sticks around, “Case in point, why the fuck did you tell Quackity he’s tall?” You eye the chat, which’s mostly spamming W and comparing you to Ryo from Devilman Crybaby. “Such a shame...” You murmur, pressing the REPORT button.

“What?! How are so many people dead?!” Ash gasps, her kind voice tinted with fear and confusion. Your three kills, like military stars on an uniform of a distinguished officer, are displayed on the board. Dream appears to be slacking, having yet to take a life.

“Someone’s been real fucking busy.” Charlie observes. It’s true, you have been.

“I found James in Nav, but holy shit--” You begin, exasperated, “--what the fuck, guys, how did we miss this shit? Where is everyone?”

“I’m at Electrical.” Corpse voices.

“And I’m with Corpse.” One sentence is all it takes to figure out your next target: Bretman. Revenge for being killed first in the first goddamn round, and for spending so much time with your boyfriend.

Eep!!! Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend!!! The word even makes you forget your thirst for blood, that’s how whipped you are. Sadly, it’s time to return to reality, to this grave situation.

“And what have the two of you been conspiring?” You keep your tone level, but that alone is enough to set everyone off. The unease you had planted within them before the game started is starting to bloom. However, if they suspect you, they don’t speak up, not yet.

“Fishnets, mostly.” Corpse says.

only partly a lie he was mostly talking abt u queen <3

corpse simping for y/n is the sweetest thing ever

the times corpse used y/ns name when talking abt y/n: 1. the times he used baby or my baby: infinite

“I’m wearing them right nyoooow.” Bretman drawls.

You hum, “What a coincidence. I am, too.”

“Wait--For real?” That seems to catch Corpse’s attention, because of course it does, you picked them with him in mind, after all.

“No peeping.” You tsk, obviously referring to his tendency to hop onto your stream unprompted. Whether he actually listens to your demands is beyond you, “Peeping means cheating.”

“For the love of fuck all, can we get back to the three dead bodies, please? Because I’m about to have a second coming of Christ moment and taste my consumed, digested beer for the second time.” Charlie interjects.

“I mean, anyone have any ideas who’d do this?” Dream takes hold of the conversation. Quiet, disappointed nos greet him. They have nothing to go on, no clues, not even a subliminal message. With everyone scattered, there is no way of locating the actual bodies and drawing a long red trail leading back to you. 

You’re too good at lying, and Dream is too good of a publicist. People tend to trust his judgement, which is his main asset (besides his calm demeanor of course). When the Among Us gods chose you as Impostor, they made sure you had every advantage. 

“Who-Who do you think it is, Dream?” Ash questions, “I trust you. I do. Just know that.”

“No fucking clue.”

“Y/n?” She tries again.

“Same. I’m a bit worried, though.”

“Let’s, uhhh, let’s skip?” Sykkuno offers. The consensus is to start voting at six. Your new mission is to make sure you dwindle the numbers down drastically before that can happen. You have no qualms about sacrificing Dream in order to meet your goals, either. Absolutely cold blooded.

Back at Cafeteria, there are words exchanged about Quackity’s body just laying there, forgotten. Blame is shifted: how come we didn’t notice sooner? Where’s Rae? And you mindlessly go along with their mourning, not really paying attention. Dream leaves with Charlie and Sykkuno, Corpse requests you stay with him and you sprout fake apologies. Not his time yet. Us girls need to stick together!, you sing, following after Ashley and getting further and further away from him, going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the spaceship.

You find yourself in Security with her, her cute astronaut pressed to the cameras, watching the live feed, “Let’s lurk here, okay? Maybe we’ll see something.” If only she saw who was standing behind her. 

“Who do you think is the Impostor?” You ask, standing in the doorway, “Or, more like, who are the Impostors?”

“Honestly?” She ends her word with a little sigh, “I think it might be Corpse and Bretman. I haven’t seen them at all this game.”

You smile, raising your brows, tilting your heard, and you sound so kind, like a dear old friend about to deliver a tender message, “...Have you seen me?”

“SHIT!”

Too late. In one smooth motion she joins the afterlife. You cut the lights, venting mindlessly till you spot Corpse and Bretman panicking in Weapons. Your existence is still a mystery to them.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck--” Corpse mumbles, “Bretman, don’t you dare fucking kill me right now.”

“I’m not Impostor!”

“Okay, I’ll drink to that.”

They rush out of Weapons, most likely on their way to Electrical, and you trail after them like the Grim Reaper itself, biding your time till you can deliver the killing blow.

“Corpse?!” You call out, mild panic ringing in your voice, “Is that you?”

“Shit, Y/n? Where are you?” He questions. Crew vision is so sad, so small, how can he not see you standing almost right next to him? “Where’s Ash?”

“I dunno,” You say, “when the lights went out I ran. Please don’t kill me.”

“I’d never do that, baby.”

Too easy. They’re all too fucking easy. You bite your lower lip, trying to stop the laugh bubbling in your chest, to stop the lightheaded dizziness that overcomes you with a rush of excitement. 

“Thanks, pretty boy.” You mutter, and it sounds a bit lower than you intended, a bit darker, something sinister lurking underneath cotton candy words. It instantly clicks in Bretman and he makes a noise, something like a whine, and you see him backing away, “I know I can always trust you.” 

Whether Corpse notices the odd shift in tone, he doesn’t show it, “I like it when you call me that.” Is all he says, and you hear the smile in his voice, the appreciation. The trek to Electrical is all but forgotten. You slowly make your way to Bretman, “Where are you? Come here.”

“Just a minute,” You say cheerily, “I just need to kill Bret first.”

“Holy shit.”

“N-” Your victim’s sentence is cut off in a second, and you can’t contain your manic cackle this time, because the screen bleeds red, the words VICTORY splattered on it, depicting yours and Dream’s sneaky astronauts. You’re still laughing as the voices of your fallen friends ring in your ears.

“Y/n, what the fuck, you’re an actual monster.” Dream says, but there’s no actual weight behind his words, each syllable punctured with a laugh.

“I knew the second she asked me about my favorite scary movie that I’d get the chop.” James states.

“Wait, Y/n, did you kill everyone?” Corpse questions.

“She fucking did!” Dream answers for you, “I got Charlie and Sykkuno, and barely at that. What the fuck.”

“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.” You admit, giggling, raising you glass, “I toast to you, Dream. My perfect partner in crime.”

“I didn’t really do shit, but cheers.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh, “Y/n, Y/n, you don’t actually think I’m weird, right? Right?”

“No, she does.” James chimes.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU, DUDE?!”

More commotion, more noise, and you just sit there, buzzed, snickering, reading the chat as the rest agree to play another round. You thank the people who donated that you had accidentally missed among the, you know, murder, reply to a few questions, bow dramatically to the many praises and invisible flowers you receive for such beautiful assassin work. When you look back at the screen, you throw your head back with a maniacal laugh.

Impostor again, only this time it’s with Charlie. Family bonds are often restored when united under a common goal. You’re so happy. So happy. You weren’t done terrorizing your friends yet.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos​ - @fairywriter-oracle​ - @tsukishimawh0re​ - @ofstarsanddreams​ - @bbecc-a​ - @annshit​ - @leahh19​ - @letsloveimagines​ - @bellomi-clarke​ - @wineandionysus​ - @guiltydols​ - @onephootinfrontoftheother​ - @liamakorn​ - @thirstyfangirl​ - @lilysdaydreams​ - @pan-ini​ - @mxqicshxp​ - @tanchosanke​ - @yoshinorecommends​ - @flightsandfantasy​ - @liljennyx3​ - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible​ - @sinister-sleep​ - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat​ - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit​ - @unstableye​ - @simonsbluee​ - @shinyshimaagain​ - @ppopty​ - @siriuslystupid​ - @crapimahuman​ - @ofthedewthesunlight​ - @mythicalamphitrite​ - @artsyally​ - @corpsesimpp​ - @corpsewhitetee​ - @corpse-husbandsimp​ - @hyp-oh-critical​ - @roses-and-grasses​ - @rhyrhy462​ - @sparklylandflaplawyer​ - @charbkgo​ - @airwaveee​ - @creativedogs​ - @kaitlyn2907​ - @loxbbg​ - @afuckingunicornn​ - @fleurmoon​ - @yeolliedokai​

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[blueberryrock]

For the sickeningly sweet romantic cliches bingo card: Over the top romantic gestures with Fili? While the OC/reader (whatever you’re most comfortable with) is kinda like “dude you are so cheesy” while still thinking it’s kinda sweet?

Stars.

A/N imma try to make this as cheesy as i can, which when it comes to flirting I kinda am lol, so definitely tell me if I did it enough! But hope you enjoy 💕💕

Rules, Requests, and More!

Spinning in place, Y/N watches with a grin as the skirt of her dress follows perfectly. Turning to face her mirror, she smooths out the ruffles of her long sleeves when she hears a knock on her door. Standing straight as the excitement bubbles in her, Y/N takes a deep breath in before answering the door.

"Are you," her date trails off when his eyes land on her.

"What do you think Fíli?" She asks nervously, swaying slightly in place.

"You look absolutely beautiful Amrâl," Fíli says breathlessly, earning Y/N's gaze. Her eyes widen when she sees a large bouquet of her favorite flowers.

"Fíli!" She squeals when he holds them out to her. "How did you come across these?" They don't grow so far north."

"Indeed they don't," he says as Y/N takes the flowers, breathing in deeply their sweet scent. "But I saw an elven merchant carrying them, so I had to grab them for you."

Feeling heat creep to her face, Y/N quickly turns back to her room, letting the dwarven prince follow behind her. "Thank you of course," she says, taking one last whiff of the sweet scent before moving to put them in a vase. "Now we best by going," she says, turning to her date.

"Right," he nods, offering to take her hands in his. Giving Y/N's hand a squeeze, Fíli leads her out of her room and the large hall it resides in. "You will love this," Fíli says, his voice filled with excitement. "It took me most of the day to set up."

Y/N feels a small smile creep its way onto her face as they continue through the mountain. Her mind wonders what Fíli could be leading her to, Y/N knows it's not the gardens.....not after last time which earned them a permanent ban from the King, but the springs are still open to them! Then why would Fíli have her wear such an expensive dress? Her thoughts immediately stop when Y/N finds herself in front of the to the mountain.

Shooting a curious glance at the prince beside her, Y/N shakes her head as she's led through the mountain's entrance. The cool spring air nips at her cheeks as they break away from the main path. Immediately recognizing it, Y/N's heart melts with each step.

The sound of running water makes her giddy with joy as Fíli begins to slow, reaching the end of the path, he lets go of Y/N's hand and lets her look around.

Small lanterns were strung through the thick canopy above them, mimicking the stars that the trees block. Before her was a large cleared patch where soft dirt lay, resisting the urge to go and stand under the trees, Y/N turns to face Fíli with a grin.

"I, umm, did my best to recreate it," Fíli mumbles, taking her soft hands in his. "But I can not make it colder nor have the trees shed their leaves of course."

Letting out a soft snort, Y/N pulls Fíli back to the cleared land, their decorative boots sinking slightly in the dirt. "I prefer it this way," Y/N smiles softly, letting Fíli place his hands on her hips and start swaying gently to a soundless beat. "No long dress that I would trip over, you being bolder to join me, no snow." She ends with a sigh, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"I'm glad you enjoy this Amrâl," Fíli whispers, the endearing name making her swoon. "But try not to get so comfortable, I have a few other plans."

She can practically hear the grin as he speaks. "May I ask what they are?"

"You may," Fíli hums, his hands gently running up and down her side. "I have gotten a few servants to bring up desserts to our new room for us to try, as well as a nice long few hours in the springs."

Burying her head into his shoulder, she lets out a silent laugh, slightly overwhelmed by all of the Prince's plans. Moving to look him in the eyes, Y/N's amused smile only grows bigger as she sees the slight confusion on Fíli's face.

"Is something wrong?"

Shaking her head, Y/N bites her lip in order not to smile or laugh any more than she already has. "No, no." She begins, watching a wave of relief wash on the Prince. "You just...hmm what's the word?"

"Are perfect in every way?"

"Oh haha," she says sarcastically. "No, umm, well yes, but I was going to say that you spoil me too much."

With a grin to match hers, Fíli twirls her around before saying, "ah but you deserve it! And more!" Which earns him a small giggle and a long sweet kiss.