#I dare her to try🔪

[cosmic-ships]

Hehe I'm ranting 🙃

Rewatching Adam clips (nwbd) AND GODS this girl (Ade.le) SUCKS like she actually sucks. She invites him out to party with her friends but her friends are gigantic assholes.

Like actually, they're disrespectful to a convenience store worker and they steal from him!!!

Adam calls Ad.ele out on her friends shitty behavior and she gets mad at him... he basically pleads with her to not go back to her friends guys house and she fucks off anyways basically ditching Adam because he said he didn't want to go (or be associated with people like that) she eventually goes back and finds him but like... Really?

I hate her. That's basically her and her interactions with Adam throughout their screen times together.

She seems bothered by his existence meanwhile he's being idk fucking normal and yeah he likes her but its always like her leading him on (inviting him out, never stating that she just wants to be friends etc) then pushing him away or treating him like garbage as if he never mattered at all.

She pisses me off. Especially when she really leads him to believe that they're close and he kisses her and when he pulls away the first words out of her mouth are "I don't like you" not "I don't like you like that" or "I see us as just good friends" no. Its "I don't like you"

Just AUGGHH I never wanted to smack someone so badly. She constantly confuses him and it pisses me off so much and it breaks my heart to see Adam be treated so badly... She doesn't deserve him in ANY sense.

I'm glad I'm stealing him away so she can stop mentally tormenting him he doesn't deserve to be treated like that. She can go away and Adam can stay with me, someone who is actually going to love and appreciate him.

[duhnova]

@onlyseokmins deserves the whole fucking universe and i will fight anyone that EVER tries to bring her down istg

[newkatzkafe2023]

I have one! Do you know those delicious Monkey King pieces of yours? May I please ask for a bit of simultaneous comfort for the reader & the SWKs. Bandage them up, maybe the reader found time to gather them fruit? Both are protective af (yandere-esc) of each other. Genders are the dealer's choice. Thank you so much!

🙇‍♀️ 🙇‍♀️ 🙇‍♀️ 🙇‍♀️ 🙇‍♀️

Yandere x Yandere🥰😍😈🔪

(Lmk Wukong) You have catered to him for years. He is a the apple of your eye and vice versa He Was so in love and so attached to you that he couldn't take it anymore. He just couldn't lose you So he made you immortal so he can have you forever. Not that you Mind he was the cutest monkey you ever met. You told him that you will take care of him. Such a good care of him your both are each other's world and your gonna love each other forever and ever 💛🐒.

(MKR Wukong) Oh you to are a very dangerous combination married couple. His Possessive nature and you're the jealous type You guys are the very definition of Yandere Couple. He made you immortal many years ago but you loved him so much so it was never a problem. You always share everything together from fruit. People were deeply concerned about your marriage it was cute how much in love you guys are but your both very obsessed. You once murdered a female demon out of Jealously and her was chirping and purring sweetly towards you. Your both extremely lethal but you also wouldn't have it any other way🔥🐒.

(NR Wukong) You guys are both so unpredictable it is insane and nerve racking. You share everything together from fruit to Alcoholic drinks and go on rides together and people see you everywhere together. There is never one without the other Li and Su Eventually became very concerned when they keep finding you together. The activity you always loved to do together the most was dancing to together where you would hold each other close like If you dare to let go you would loss each other forever. Rip to those who would dare separate you too🐒😈

(HIB Wukong) He is so Hot. People hated him for his looks but not you. He was not only very handsome but protective, caring, and more or Least grumpy. The biggest thing you loved about him is how well he takes care of children which checked all the boxes in you head. So you made your moves chirping and purring at him with hearts in your eyes and he look like a god-forsaken cherry but the end of it. He couldn't take it anymore and had to have you immediately so the next day Pigsy jaw dropped and the kids confused as to find a celestial monkey woman sitting in their dad's lap as Wukong introduced you as his mate and their brand new mother 👩🐒.

(Netflix Wukong) What a cute little monkey boy🥺. You can't get enough of him and vice versa. One day after watching him save the village you approached him a let out a cute flirty little chirp at him and he was on you like white on rice. Lin had found him being fed fruit by you occasionally your licking fingers you blushed but did nothing to stop him. Every time the village was in trouble he would make quick work of the demons and run right back to you. You have killed a couple of demons before for trying to hurt your sweet baby monkey and he was more in love then ever 🥰🐒.

FEEL FREE TO REBLOG

[syoddeye]

the warren, part six - natural

price x f!reader | 5.9k words | series page | ao3 tags: background ghoap, italicized flashbacks, skinny dipping, bathing, oral f!receiving, vaginal fingering, breeding kink, darkfic. a/n: fireworks followed by fireworks. shout out to early and the arrangement. mdni banner by @/cafekitsune. 🔪

This must be what it feels like to open a tomb.

Fetid air sweeps over your cheeks. Warm and stagnant, smelling of earth and metal.

The room is maybe eight by ten feet and sinks another six down to an unfinished floor of exposed dirt and rock. Thin pipes run from under the floorboards and into the wall, disappearing further underground. An empty, dusty stack of wooden shelves stands bolted to the cement walls. You’d think it’s an old root cellar—if it weren’t for the door.

Four paneled. Old and weathered yet sturdy looking. You don’t dare hop into the pit to test the heavy lock affixed to it; no way you could climb out.

You take a photo, shut the hidden hatch, and smooth the rug over it.

It’s nothing. Has to be. Kate would’ve told you about it if it mattered. You haul the couch over it anyway and tuck into bed with a knife. In the small hours, you decide to call the landlady at breakfast, perhaps Phil too, for good measure.

~~

“Oh, that? Old storm cellar.” Kate sounds amused, as if your trepidation is a cute joke. “The Warrens were originally from Tornado Alley. Hated storms. Brought that hate with them.”

“Where does the door lead?”

“A storage room. I emptied it.”

You lean against the counter, staring at the rug with your thumb caught between your teeth in thought. Since your arrival, you’ve seen two storms of note. Thunder and lightning, but nothing like the furies that roll over the Great Lakes, the ones that rattled the shutters and windows or leaked from cracks in the ceiling. Certainly no tornadoes. You, of all people, know what it is to carry a fear. A hatred.

“Everything alright?”

You fish for reassurance. “Yes. I feel silly, that’s all.”

The hook goes ignored. “Mhm.” 

“Guess I’ll move the couch back.” You laugh, apologize for troubling her, and leave the couch where it sits.

You don’t call Phil. You’d sound ridiculous.

Later, you sneak some extra work in, at least you try to. A mechanical whir putters then skips. You swear a wisp of smoke leaks from the disk drive. The old laptop that could, no more. Rendered a fossil, unresponsive to your troubleshooting. Frustration burns your belly, whittling your patience to naught. It fractures at the ring of your phone.

“Yes?” You snap, instantly searing yourself with the white-hot brand of guilt. “I’m so sorry, hello?”

John chuckles. “Bad time?”

“John. Oh, no. I–I’m not scheduled today, am I?”

“No, you’re alright. Shop’s slow, so I thought I’d check in.” He pauses. “If you’re busy, I can chat later.”

“I’m not. Unexpectedly so,” you shove your laptop off your lap, rising from bed. You stretch and pace to the kitchen. “Mind if I keep you company? See the kittens?” Best clear your head.

“I’d be delighted.”

~~

The kittens are feral. You know this, yet their instinctive rejection smarts. From a sun-bleached lawn chair, you watch them tussle and spar in the shade of John’s building. Their mother, the first time you’ve seen her, lounges on the welcome mat. She’s a proud creature. Big and gray like a storm cloud.

You haven’t come around to John’s understanding concerning the cats. The queen tolerates one of her kittens, nearly too old to nurse, as it tries to latch. You wonder if the baby’s a female. If she, like her mother, will fall pregnant in a few months. If she’ll end up with an unseasonably late litter, born to frost and snow rather than wildflowers and sunlight.

“Beautiful thing,” John observes, emerging from the garage with an ice-cold soda. He slots it in your hand and plants himself in the chair beside you. “Mama and her babies.”

“It’s something.”

“They’ll be off on their own soon. They’ll do fine.”

“And if not?” If one of the area’s predators doesn’t get to them, the road awaits.

“Then that’s that. Nature takes its course.”

You hate that he’s not wrong. Falling prey to a beast or an accident is simply what happens to creatures like the kittens. You chew your lip, thinking of how immutable that truth might’ve been once, but now? With the means to prevent all the unnecessary heartache? Knowing John’s attitude on man’s interference, you don’t voice it. Knowing your own.

You catch him staring. There’s something in the way his eyes linger. A quiet intensity that betrays the hunger he’s set aside for your benefit. Unspoken but raw. Crude. It claws at you as much as it does him.

Later, in the shower, you reacquaint yourself with your softer parts. You rouse a lovely pressure but fumble. It slips through your fingers and down the drain with the water.

~~

Your first inventory trip to Ponderosa arrives. The ride is more pleasant than the last, and John shoos you away to the library when you try to help at the town depot. He warns you it’s a lot of dull conversation and lifting, so you slink off.

The whole town’s decorated for the Fourth. Its two hotels are bursting at the seams, sidewalk patios filled with folk. A shuttle to a resort ten minutes away stops in front of the coffee shop, making the decision to delay your visit for you.

The Ponderosa Public Library is cozy and welcoming. The gleaming white stone floor of the entrance lends a hallowedness. Phil Graves’s drawl drifts through your head at the sight of a local history display positioned near the front, but the honeyed voice of the librarian hooks your attention. Draped in a floor-length cardigan, the kindly older woman eagerly waves you in. She’s thrilled to register you with a temporary card when you inquire.

“I can count on one hand how many visitors have signed up this summer. Two!” She laughs. “Your name?”

~~~

In the pre-dawn stillness of the desert, the landscape is a vast, empty stretch painted in muted hues of gray and indigo. Hints of morning light graze the earth and highway, devoid of traffic aside from the occasional tumbleweed. The openness feels expansive yet intimate. Alien, yet familiar. Desolation and your lonely home of some years. Where life makes the best of it. The most stability you’ve ever known.

You arrive in town five minutes past seven.

Passing the gas station, you keep your head down and ring hand displayed to let the synthetic gemstone reflect the sun. It doesn’t stop one trucker from leaning out of his cab with an appreciative whistle.

The library’s office light is on, so you knock on the staff entrance. Robin lets you in thirty seconds later, chattering on about a game show. You clean the bathrooms while she prepares the rest of the branch to open. You finish with minutes to spare and settle at the boxy computer that keeps your back to a wall.

The usual patrons file and out in as you send a dozen inquiry emails to writing gigs and delete rejections. You write a father of the bride speech for $50, your biggest job yet. Every sentence is a penny, and pennies add up. You’ll have enough for the car, gas, and computer in a few months. Everything is planned out and locked safely away in your head, except for one detail.

You traipse slowly along the geography shelf, hand poised like a dowsing rod, waiting for a feeling. Your fingers brush a spine and shiver. Idaho Cities and Townships. Paging to the index, you trace your finger down the list like you’re looking for the right scripture in church. The psalm to sing. Something pulls your finger to a place called Grouse Bay. It burrows under your skin and nails. Hope. 

~~~

You revere librarians. They’re the only people you’ve met who never pry, lest it be to help you. Jeanne, the librarian of this particular branch, leaves you to peruse without hovering. The bangles on her arms clink together like a bell on a cat. She minds herself until you approach the checkout with a short stack.

“Excellent choices, sweetie. These’ll keep you plenty company.” She scans them, apprising you of the upcoming fireworks, but abruptly pauses. Her eyes stare past you. “Are you expecting a handsome fella? A Brawny Man lookalike?”

From outside, John waves with a smile. You return both. “I am.”

She whistles low and slides the books to you with a knowing look. “I take it back. He’ll be plenty of company.”

Outside, John hooks a finger in your tote the moment you’re within reach and peers inside. Nosy. 

“A couple of romances, nothing you’d like.”

“That so? You don’t think I’d like…The Arrangement?” 

You bat at his hand, clutching your haul and tilting away as you walk. “I highly doubt it.”

A waggish grin lights up his face. If the man on the front cover of that particular text bears a resemblance to him, it’s pure coincidence.

On the ride home, his hand inches over your thigh. You let it rest and take another long shower.

You still can’t scratch the itch.

~~

Despite John’s preparations, the Fourth of July cleans the grocer out of booze, cigarettes, and just about everything else. The store shuts after lunch, and he talks you into a boat ride. 

“I didn’t know you owned a boat.”

“I don’t,” He hefts a cooler onto the tailgate, the last stash of crusher beer inside. “Kate does. Nik just patched her up.”

“Wish he’d fix my car.” Nikolai mentioned the part was delayed two weeks and blamed a train derailment further West. 

Kate’s home is an aging two-story half a mile down the lakeside road. Two juniper trees bracket the entrance, with twin rows of bluebells and dogbane lining the path. Her Ranger sits under a carport, flanked by a muddy ATV and an old Bronco.

You shoulder your bag and walk to the rear of John’s truck, studying the unfamiliar vehicles. “Who else is joining us?”

“Hello, rabbit.” A gruff voice purrs. Outdoors, Simon looks larger than life with no fixture or frame to duck. His muscles bulge under a black t-shirt, the skin on his arms more bronzed than his face. However, as he steps directly behind you, leaning over you to grab the cooler, you see faint tan lines around his eyes.

You whip around to face the cab, trying to not look so obvious with your failed escape attempt, and see John’s mouth flatten. Simon’s chest brushes and bumps your back, pelvis ghosting your hip as he effortlessly hauls the packed cooler over your head. The smell of burnt rubber, oil, and sweat is fleeting but intense.

“How’s the boat?” John slams his door. You flinch and hastily close the rear gate. 

“Glorified sardine tin.” Simon clears his throat and spits, then jerks his head. “C’mon.”

You follow in silence, crossing the road and descending a creaky staircase built into the slope of the hillside leading to the lake. Kate’s boat is bigger than you imagined, a double-decker pontoon. She and Nik stand at the mooring fixed to an aluminum dock, and as you step onto the last shallow flight, a man emerges from the cabin.

His grin is a crescent set on a chiseled jaw and hard to look away from. He isn’t as tall as Simon, but cuts just as imposing of a figure with wide shoulders and thick arms. He bounds closer, greeting the three of you like an excitable dog. Simon passes by, mumbling something that makes the man straighten and lock on to you with eyes an unnerving shade of blue, cynoid. Nothing like John’s.

John gently nudges you ahead and supplies your name. “And this is Soap. He’s Simon’s partner.”

Partner. That’s not as comforting as you want it to be. “Soap?”

An accent wraps around his words, catching you off guard. “Aye. Soap. Heard a lot about ye.”

“Good things I hope?”

He leans, voice dropping into a conspiratorial but genial whisper. “Plenty. Though if ye got a naughty streak, I won’t tell.”

The breeze off the lake doesn’t abate the heat his compliment evokes. A whiff of acetone blends with mint wafts off him, but it’s his nostrils that flare. He’s sniffing you. “I don’t–”

“Soap!” Simon barks.

“Chat later.” He whispers, then answers Simon’s call, disappearing with his counterpart.

A bit dazed, you greet Kate, and she steers you aboard. John unmoors the boat with Nik muttering in his ear, and you’re shown the prime seat at the bow. Kate takes the helm, and within minutes, the pontoon putters away from shore to join the dozens of vessels dotting the lake. Simon and Soap return with armfuls of bottles and cans, someone turns the satellite radio on, and John fits himself to your side. You don’t know the last time you celebrated the Fourth, and here you are, toasting two Brits, a Scot, and a Russian. If there’s a punchline, you hope to find it.

A flask eventually appears. You refuse, watching Soap’s mouth pucker in disgust and Nikolai drinking deep like it’s water. John squeezes your shoulder, his arm draping over you with his thigh pressed to yours.

He murmurs, “Why don’t you go see Kate? Get some girl talk in?” 

Kate doesn’t seem the type for girl talk, but how the others seem to hold their breath at John’s suggestion propels you to your feet.

You find Kate atop the upper deck, sprawled with a book and a cigarette dangling out of her mouth. The boat rides the wake of passing speedboats, forcing you to crawl and sit cross-legged. You barely hear the men below save for another toast.

“Too much for you, huh?” Kate asks, taking a drag.

It’s a conscious decision to not mention girl talk. “Yep. They’re…a lot.”

She snorts and lets the conversation wither early on the vine, probably for the best. She is your landlord.

Basking in the sun, you drink your warming beer and watch the water. Listen to the whoops and hollers across the lake.

When your father moved you across state lines to a ramshackle home perched atop a steep hill, you often crept onto the roof to do just this. They called that lake an unsalted sea, vast and untamed. Choppy with whitecaps and an unfathomable shade of blue, always darker than the sky above. You lived in fear of it, listening dutifully when your father carped on your morbid fascination. He banned you from trekking to its shores.

As a child, he suffered visions of you getting swept up by a rogue wave. You believed him, wanting him to care. As a teenager, you wondered if it was his way of protecting you from the men who prowled the docks, the boogeymen in the dark. His tacit acknowledgment of your growing older. Now, a thousand miles and a lifetime away, you know it’s because he simply didn’t want another prisoner to escape.

The first man whose love you wanted tried to trap you with water. The second dragged you to a desert. Looking down at John, your stomach twists. The third time’s a charm. He’s not like them.

“Rabbit.” Soap’s shaggy head pokes over the deck’s edge. “Mind if I join?”

Kate turns a page, you scoot, and Soap hoists himself up.

“So. You and John. What’s that like?” He laughs at your wince. “C’mon. Dinnae be shy. Been a minute since someone’s turned his head.”

“It’s…new.”

“New. Aye. Steamy? At eachother like–”

“Christ,” Kate grumbles, suddenly rocking up to a seated position, simultaneously stubbing out her cigarette as she slides to the edge. “I don’t need to hear this.”

Soap snickers. “Dinnae mind her.”

Sensing a sliver of an opening, you redirect. “John said you and Simon were partners. How long have you been together?”

“Years, I reckon. Hard to picture life before him. I was a mess. Workin’ at his shop’s done me good.”

“Oh, I thought you were partner partners.”

He grins. “No, yer not mistaken. We’re partners in business an’ bed.” 

With a gentle dig, his elbow finds your ribs, and you feign an affable chuckle into your drink. The cheap beer’s too tepid to stomach, but you swallow, hide a grimace and push on. “What brought you here?”

Soap rolls his shoulders and finally casts his gaze elsewhere. “Wanted to see the world. I was an artist. I fucked off from home at sixteen an’ never returned. Wandered for years. Traveled all over.”

Sixteen. Incomprehensible. Not that eighteen was much better, but you weren’t alone. 

“And you stopped here?” You came to Grouse Bay to hide. Picked it at random. To think someone else did the same seems kismet.

“I ken. Ye probably think I’m daft. Of all the places I’ve seen, how come fuckin’ Idaho? Of all places? I dinnae. Set its hooks in me.” He glances at Simon. “Love’s got a way of changing people, aye? Transformin’ them. It could be ye, putting down roots next.”

The comment nips your soft underbelly. You pivot again. “Did you paint? Do you still create art?”

Soap turns. “Nae so much anymore. I mostly draw. Dipped my toes into painting, but too much to carry. The art I make nowadays…It’s gruesome.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Taxidermy. ‘S what Simon and I do,” His eyebrows shoot up, teeth flashing in a puckish smile. “Ye didnae ken?”

Revulsion tightens your throat. “I didn’t.”

He bites his lower lip, clearly eager to fan your disgust like a fire. A hairbreadth of control keeps his mouth shut long enough to rethink it. Instead, his focus drifts once more to his partner. 

Despite the acidity lapping at your throat, curiosity opens your mouth. “Do you know how Simon came to Grouse Bay?”

Soap’s lips press tightly together, enough to sap their color, then bend into a brief scowl. Without warning, he stands and rips his shirt off in one smooth movement. He tosses it, crows a complaint about the heat, and doesn’t look over the upper deck before launching off the pontoon.

Howls of laughter erupt, but surprise tethers you in place until John calls your name. Apparently, a sunset dip is tradition.

Ducking into the cabin under the premise of changing, you whisper to Kate, “I don’t have a swimsuit. John didn’t tell me about swimming.”

“He must’ve,” Kate quarters a lemon on the tiny counter and tucks a wedge into the bottle’s narrow mouth. She shoves it through with a thumb and licks the pad. “Nobody will bat an eye if you go in your underwear.”

“I’m not–that’s too–”

“You’re shy. That’ll pass. I’ll tell John you need his shirt.” She’s gone before you can argue.

A short eternity squeezes into less than a minute. John appears in the doorway, and beyond him, you hear Nikolai’s deep laugh.

“Kate says you’re shy.”

“I’m not shy.”

“Well, I’ve come to give you this just in case.” 

You thought you’d see John shirtless for the first time under different circumstances. Not in a cramped boat cabin, surrounded by his drunk friends. Your chest tightens. All the muscle you’ve only glimpsed and imagined is there in front of you. A torso sculpted by labor and practicality, rugged with scars and fat cushioning his stomach. And, to your delight, decently hirsute. His hand drops to his belt.

“Shirt’s yours. Need me to turn around?”

It feels more intimate than any kiss he’s given you, and it seems a test. You muster your nerve, set aside caution, and peel off your dress.

“Blue and white. Festive.”

“And you’re in green.”

He kicks off his jeans with a shrug. “Not my birthplace, and not for long.”

Standing at the stern, you entertain second and third thoughts, toying with the shirt’s hem. John waits in the water, expectant. You catch a flash of white—he’s nude. Toward the bow, you hear the others. They’re all nude.

“What about Kate?” You ask, voice warbling with uncertainty. 

“Kate never joins. She watches.”

“Watches?”

“For other boats. Voyeurs. Threats.”

You feel stupid for asking.

The shock of the cold water hits like a full-body slap, stealing your breath and sending a sharp jolt through your limbs. Arms wrap around you as you surface, and the scruff of John’s beard scrapes the juncture of your neck, chin pushing the wet shirt aside to briefly suck your neck. It’s sudden, it’s a lot, knowing what’s behind your back—

“John!” You sputter indignantly, giggling nervously as his broad hands slide to squeeze your hips. 

“Gimme a second.” He noses your wet skin and plants a few kisses before relinquishing his hold. “Sorry, sweetheart. Hard to keep my hands off you when you look so good.”

Sufficiently flustered, you promptly forgive him. “It’s fine. Just not in front of the others, please.”

“Right,” he chuckles and pinches your bottom as he paddles past. “She’s shy.”

Affronted, you swim after him.

As much as you hate to admit, Kate was right—your shyness melts with the sun’s slow descent. You spend the rest of the daylight in and out of the water, racing the men and learning to automatically avert your eyes from their frankly proud nakedness. By the time evening falls, you’re worn out, dressed, and idle as you munch on a sandwich Kate packed. It feels surreal. The entire day. Breathtakingly normal despite the skinny dipping.

Not weird, just different.

Eventually, everyone finds their place for the fireworks. You nestle into John’s side, swapping your towel for a blanket. He’s still bare-chested, shirt drying over an empty seat. It’s natural, resting your head on his shoulder. Fits perfectly. Simon, Soap, and Nikolai climb to the roof. Kate reclines in the captain’s chair. Beneath the cotton weave, John’s hand strokes your knee, and the other rests across your shoulders. The conversations lull as the whole lake seems to hold its breath.

Flashes of red and white burst overhead, their reflections shimmering over the rippling, dark water. Blue sparks spill in glittering arcs, lighting the night sky in meteoric explosions. Cheers from across the lake erupt alongside them. John’s hold doesn’t lax. For nearly an hour, he keeps you close, palm searing your skin. Your attention strays from the show, instead admiring his crow’s feet, the mole on his nose, and the silver woven into his beard. The fireworks cast a glow, making him look almost ethereal. Not angelic, otherworldly. The lines and marks on his skin map to places you’ve never been. Never thought you’d go.

The sky returns to an unbroken, inky black, the scent of sulfur settling in a fog. Kate ferries you to land, and you disembark ahead of John with his keys. In the drive, you pop the tailgate and then load your things into the passenger seat. 

“Bunny.”

You turn to see Soap hauling the cooler, huffing and puffing a bit. The thing’s empty, so he must’ve hurried up the stairs. He crosses the road, tossing his burden into the truck. 

“Bunny?”

He shakes his head. “Must’ve misheard. Said ‘bonnie’. Endearment of sorts. Listen, I was hopin’ to get another chance to speak with ye. You’re a good time when you let loose.”

“Thank you. I haven’t in a while. Felt nice.”

“I can tell. Simon said ye were wound tight. He frighten ye?”

To the core of your being. A congenital fear. You swallow it. “No.”

“Really? Big fella scares me.” Soap pitches his voice low. He casually stretches and grips the window crank, effectively caging you into the wedge of the door. His nostrils widen like earlier, pupils dilating in the light. “Now. Need ye to tell me somethin’. Been eatin’ me all day, and I cannae be a dog and put my nose wherever I’d like. Gotta be good.”

Instantly, ropes harness your thoughts, prepared to draw and quarter them into the bleakest parts of imagination. The desert, the inland sea. 

The plastic handle creaks under his grip as he forces the words out between his teeth. “Did ye find—”

“Johnny.” Simon. Soap immediately reels backward, tugged by an invisible thread. 

“Here, sir!”

Sir? Johnny? 

“ATV. Now.” 

Soap doesn’t so much as spare a parting glance, obediently scurrying to the four-wheeler. You stare, dumbfounded, and jump when the driver-side door creaks. John smiles wryly, his shirt adorning his neck like a damp scarf. The trail of hair disappearing into his waistband is a momentary distraction from the brute stalking beyond the windshield. Simon’s scarred flesh is a beacon in the moonlight. His heavy brow focused solely on the man perched atop his vehicle. You hear him seething, growling under his breath at Soap—Johnny—and John’s door shuts.

“C’mon, sweetheart. They’re alright.” He coaxes you into the cab, patting your knee with a sigh. “Lover’s quarrel. Simon’s a jealous man.”

“Jealous,” you echo, gawking at the two men outside. “Of me?” 

“Don’t sound so surprised.” John starts the truck and lowers his window. He leans out some as Nik and Kate share a smoke at the end of her walk. “Night, Kate. Nikolai.”

Nikolai leers behind his cigarette, gesturing with it in your direction. A few words of Russian escape with the smoke, a throaty laugh on their heels. Kate looks impassive. Bored. Her house disappears in the rearview. A restiveness itches under your skin, exacerbated by the quiet crackling of the radio. Your head’s a crowded place. The silence’s a good place to unburden it.

“So. Soap’s real name is Johnny?”

John chuckles. “Nobody but Simon calls him that, but you didn’t think it was Soap, did you?”

“I’m assuming it’s to keep things less confusing.”

“Correct. I actually employed him for a spell, when he arrived. Earned the name ‘Soap’ on account of his mouth. Needless to say, his career in retail was brief. Kept flirtin’ with the customers.”

“And he got with Simon?” 

“Simon swept him off his feet.”

You scoff. “That’s difficult to believe.”

“Simon has his ways.”

Nothing in your short, tense encounters suggests Simon to be a man capable of love or romance. You doubt it is uncharitable to think so, either. Ferine and rude, calculated and off-putting. Everything he does aims to disarm by making the very air around him feel heavy and wrong, whereas Soap seems keen to impress upon you his friendliness, conveying himself as human conciliation. ‘Opposites attract’ has limits. 

Yet.

“Soap said love has a way of changing people.”

John hums in agreement. “Most powerful force there is.”

Can’t argue with that. Force for good or otherwise, though—that you may dispute.

You don’t tell him to, but he shuts the truck off in the drive. Cats scatter as he escorts you, voicing their displeasure at your late arrival. Under the exterior light, you fumble with your keys, his gaze heavy on your cheek. In the time it takes to turn the lock, you berate yourself. Plead with a jury close to hanging.

It’s swimming all over again. Are you shy? Timid? Are you allowing the long, creeping reach of your abandoned husband to touch you before you let John try? The verdict passes your lips.

“Won’t you come in?”

“It’s late.”

“Please come in.”

It takes two invitations to coax John Price into the cabin and a third to the shower. 

A shuddering sigh of relief comes with removing your underwear and dress. The freedom from wet cotton eclipses the nervousness that makes your skin prickle with goosebumps. The urge to cover yourself in front of the man who is not your husband sings loud, nearly shrieking when he brushes his knuckles down your arm and gently turns you around. He starts the water, returning to press his front to your back, the slight tackiness of lakewater and sweat melding you together. His fingertips run a track from your flanks to the sides of your breasts, a hum buzzing into the skin of your shoulder when you grasp the counter.

When Dusty—No. No. He’s not here. John is. 

You banish the venomous guilt that tries to unseat your want and let John tug you into the shower to wash the day off.

He’s hard for most of it, his swollen cock skimming your hips and ass, glancing over your belly, and nearly driving the strength from your legs. He seems unfazed, reverent, and single-minded in his self-imposed task. It’s embarrassing, the way you squirm and fidget at every touch. Difficult to tell if it’s arousal or the unfamiliarity of intimacy.

John takes your place under the spray and chuckles softly when you finally look down. His fingers scrub through his body hair to the thatch at his cock’s root. You suck in a breath. He’s proportional—thick, heavy, and flushed. Hangs between the two of you, untouched, but you know it would burn your hand. Your tongue. The dizzying rush from that last thought alone reassures you because you don’t remember the last time you knelt because you wanted to.

Neither of you dress. Both of you barely dry. He insists on a light, hovering at the bedside lamp until you nod. When he climbs onto the bed, murmuring little nothings, your blood’s roaring in your ears, drowning out his encouragement. He opens your legs for a good look, but he might as well wrench open your ribcage. 

“Quite the sight.” John whispers. His palms slide from your knees to your upper thighs, the rough pads of his thumbs stroking where your thighs meet your pelvis. 

You imagine fastening an anchor to your brain, then a lure. Stay here, stay focused. 

“Yeah?”

His eyes flick to yours, narrowing as he reads into the single word. “Yeah. Beautiful.” He slowly slides and sinks to kiss your thighs, positioning himself between your legs. His shoulders stretch them further, and an arm snakes around and pulls you closer all too easily, hand groping a greedy handful. His breath hits where it’s wet, coarse hair tickling skin.

The first contact rips a sharp breath from you, which he immediately meets with a hum that buzzes to the base of your spine. The fingers on your thighs brush soothingly as he continues, jaw pressing further. His mouth latches, tongue dipping lower and in, laving along your entrance before circling to your clit. Each stroke and circuit deliberate, adjusting to the sounds spilling uninhibited from your mouth. Your hands reach and thread into his hair with a moan.

He groans softly into your flesh, nosing the fat above your sex, chuckling when your hips pitch. His hand travels up your quivering inner thigh to ease a finger in, pulling away to sink it into the first knuckle with a wet sound. 

“Look at you.” John sounds wrecked, beard and chin drenched in spit and slick, tongue licking the excess from his lip. Eyes boring into you with that look again. Unmasked hunger, barely tethered. The one you touched yourself to in the shower.

“Smelled you all day, smelled this,” He emphasizes with a pump of his finger, kissing your clit at the strangled, small noise you make. “Leaking into your pants, even after a swim. Nearly laid you out right there, during the fireworks.” 

A filthy whine erupts at the thought. You picture it vividly. John tearing your dress off of you, hauling you to the floor of the boat. Nik and Kate and Simon and Soap—all of them watching John mount you, ignoring the spectacle for a different show. Would any of them intervene? Would you want them to?

You clench at the thought, and he smirks.

He introduces a second finger alongside the first, hushing your reedy whimpers at the stretch. “The needy thing knew I was near. Knew that I could scent her crying out for me. Poor thing, neglected and mistreated. Needed a man to fuss over her.”

Your face grows somehow hotter. Not enough that you’re naked and under him, he needs to strip you bare and sweetly flay you alive. “John—”

He cuts you off, tutting. “Don’t be embarrassed—it’s natural for a man to want his mate.”

His fingers plunge to the webbing, ratcheting up to earnestly fuck you now that he’s teased you into incoherency. “Never gonna leave you lonely,” he rasps, tucking his mouth back over your pearled clit. 

Every year, the lake ice cracks and fractures with the arrival of spring. This is no different.

Muscles flexing and fluttering, dimly aware of the praises he murmurs against your cunt, you shatter. 

He doesn’t withdraw his fingers until you score his scalp and beg, and even then they slide over your slit, cupping the slippery folds of your pussy. He kisses and wipes his cum-soaked whiskers over your spasming thighs and stomach, his free hand planting beside you. John looms, pleased but not quite sated. 

He pets your cunt and waits for the worst of your trembling to cease. “Perfect,” he affirms, giving it a wet pat. He grunts, then abruptly knocks your legs open a second time with a knee, removing his hand to slick his cock.

Your eyes bulge, vision clearing in an instant at the view. Sat ignored for too long, his cock flushes a deeper shade of red, precome clinging to it like wax and seeping into his hair. He wraps his hand around the thick of himself, shuddering, eyes screwing shut as he strokes.

You think your orgasm might’ve knocked something loose. You reach a shaking hand and touch his knee. 

“J-John? I-I can’t…I can’t, not yet.” You are selfishness incarnate, asking him to quash his hunger once more. 

His eyes snap open. His pupils drill into you, flitting between your twitching cunt, his cockhead, and your face. Stygian and starving. 

“I’m sorry. Please.” 

He swallows, chest heaving with his unwhetted appetite, its festering close to spoiling. For a moment, fear poleaxes you into the mattress when he shuffles on his knees closer anyway, knees pushing under your thighs. 

“Not yet? That’s…okay,” John breathes raggedly. He nods, fisting his cock faster. His free hand glides from the valley of your breasts to your stomach, tracing a circle. “We’ll get there, sweetheart…Can I…?” 

Biting your lip, you nod.

He sighs, hips bucking slightly. “You’ll be taking my cock in no time. No tears, now. Wipe ‘em off.”

You obey immediately, not having realized you’d started crying, and see his cock jump in his hand at that.

John chuckles a little brokenly, struggling to speak through gritted teeth. “Soon, I can feel it. Gonna empty that head of yours, weed out what’s holding you back, and fill you, fuck, here.” His fingers press over your womb, and he jerks forward. Hot ropes of come shoot out, coating his fingers and your skin. He rocks into his fist a few more times, the motions stuttering, until leisurely sinking back to his haunches. 

After he withdraws and returns to clean you up, wiping the sweat off your brow before the cum on your belly, he tucks the both of you into bed. He turns off the lamp and claims the side closest to the door. He spoons you with his heartbeat to your spine.

Staring into the night beyond the window, you apologize again.

“I want to. I really want to.”

“I know, darl. I know.” He kisses your shoulder. “What did I say? We’ll get there.”

He falls asleep wrapped around you. You, however, lie awake trying to remember what it is to share a bed with someone willingly. With someone who wants you. 

Eventually, you wriggle out a hand and grab your phone, dimming its brightness all the way down. You haven’t checked it since work and swipe to your messages. A text from an unknown number sits at the top of your notifications.

>> F741 >> hold

[vikkirosko]

I’m not sure if this counts as breaking the character x character rule since it’s generic but…

How would DBD Killers react to finding two survivors in one locker? (Please include the Dredge because funny locker killer)

Well, I don't see a big problem with this request. One of the survivors will be Reader, and the problem is solved

Partially platonic headcanons Two in one locker

🎃 Shape x Reader 🔪

Every time you were among the survivors that Michael was supposed to hunt, he left you at the end. Someone might think that you were a special victim to him, but no one would even dare to think that Michael was giving you a little indulgence. He was giving you a chance to escape while he was busy with the others, but that didn't mean he wouldn't have killed you if you couldn't escape. His feelings for you were strong, but you both had your own roles that you performed. Every time he noticed that you were hiding in the locker, he pretended that he had no idea about it and moved on, but this time it was different. You weren't there alone

As he passed the locker, he heard a voice belonging to Jake. Michael was planning to catch him, but then he heard another voice. Your voice. You were both hiding in the same closet and there was clearly not enough room for you there. Michael felt an irritation that was rare for him. He didn't wait long and opened the locker, grabbing Jake by the neck. You saw that Michael was angry, and you knew that he could have done anything, so you chose to run away. Jake might be very unhappy later, but at least one of you had to get out

It didn't take long for Michael to find you again. He caught you and looked at your face carefully. Knowing that you were there for him calmed him down. He didn't like the fact that someone was so close to you, so he intended to stay with you as long as possible until you needed to go down the hatch, because he was going to get rid of the others

Michael didn't tell you anything, but you knew he was angry. You didn't want to be alone in the locker with Jake, and now you had to deal with the consequences of this act, because Michael wasn't going to forget about it so easily

👻 Ghost Face x Reader 📸

Danny loved to watch and scare his victims. This sent adrenaline coursing through his blood and he pursued his victims with increased enthusiasm. You were the one he particularly liked to keep an eye on, albeit for a different reason. You were his favorite victim and a survivor for whom he had funny feelings. He liked it when you were alone and you could spend time without strangers

When he got rid of most of your comrades, he was looking for you, and when he heard some noise from the locker, he was sure that it was you. It seemed to him like a funny game that he was going to win. But when he came to the locker, he heard another voice besides your whisper. That voice belonged to Meg. She was the last of your friends he hadn't killed yet, and now you were hiding in the same locker. Danny grinned behind his mask, feeling that the game was only getting more interesting

He was wandering around next to the locker, and you realized that Ghost Face was doing it on purpose, pressing on your nerves and trying to unbalance you. When he disappeared from your field of vision, the feeling that he was somewhere nearby did not disappear, and you did not plan to go out yet, but Meg decided to take a chance, and soon she was running away from Danny. When he returned after finishing with her, he saw you sitting on the floor of the locker, which was open. You stretched out your legs, which had time to go numb and just rested, realizing that now you had that little chance to rest a little bit

Danny was sitting with you, taking all your attention to himself. He knew exactly where the hatch was, so he could help you leave quickly, but he wanted to spend time with you without your companions and other annoying factors. He hugged you tightly, burying his face in your shoulder. Even though he didn't tell you, he wanted you to know that the only one you could hide in the same locker with was himself

🦴 Dredge x Reader 💀

Dredge often used lockers to move faster, but sometimes it found a survivor in the locker, which it used. It seemed like an easy way to catch them, although not always the survivors were hiding in lockers. You were one of those who, after learning that it was from Dredge that you needed to escape, tried hard not to use lockers. It amused the creature. You were sympathetic to it as a survivor who always approached the issue of his survival with caution. But this time something went wrong

When Dredge teleported into one of the lockers, it realized that it was surprisingly cramped. This was followed by a startled scream, the source of which was Dwight, but even through the scream there was a soft cry that belonged to you. At that moment, Dredge realized that there were two survivors in the locker, and one of them was you

Dwight was the one who put you in the locker. Despite your irritated whispers that hiding was a bad idea, he took you to the locker. And now he was screaming because Dredge had grabbed him. You were able to get out and run, realizing that there was nothing you could do to help, and it was a miracle that you weren't captured with him. You didn't even realize that Dredge specifically allowed you to escape, because of all the survivors, you were the favorite for it

After that, it couldn't find you in the lockers. You were running away from it with all your might, trying to survive, and it just couldn't miss the opportunity to leave you as the last survivor. You just had to hope that you could find the hatch before it found you

[lestappenforever]

DROP THE TEXT EXCHANGE FIC 🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

I would like to preface this by saying that threats are not a good incentive to get me to write anything, anon. But, you're in luck this time because I was already feeling inspired as hell.

The text exhange in question.

Dedicated to @f1writingbyme, for once again being my muse, allowing me to scream ideas at her, and helping me decide on the very important details along the way.

AO3 link.

---

There's a hand on his shoulder during his post-qualifying interview in the media pen; a firm squeeze followed by equally firm pats, and Charles knows who it is before he even lays eyes on Max. After all, he could recognize that touch anywhere, at any time.

His face lights up with pure glee at the sight of the Dutchman, the way it always does.

Green eyes meet blue, and despite Max's own disappointing qualifying landing him in a measly P6, the Red Bull driver looks at Charles with nothing but genuine joy and pride. Because in spite of his own struggles, Max is irrevocably, endlessly happy for Charles.

Max knows how much this means to him — has been there for every single disappointing weekend the Monégasque has experienced in his home race over the past few years. He's seen the heartbreak in his eyes, listened to him raging about the mistakes made there in the past; both by Charles himself and by his team. As with practically everything else in his career, Max has been right there with him. And for that reason, Charles is absolutely certain that even if Max had ended up having to start tomorrow's race from P20, the Dutchman still would have found it in himself to be as happy for Charles as he would have been for himself had Max been the one to secure pole.

They clasp hands like they have done hundreds, if not thousands, of times before. Max's grip is tight, but Charles' is even tighter, as he is overcome with a realization that has hit him so many times before over the years:

He doesn't want to let go. And he can tell by the way Max squeezes his hand one more time that the feeling is mutual.

Charles sees his own emotions, his own desires, reflected in those beautiful blue eyes — can feel the electricity simmering between them, just beneath the surface, the way it has done for so many years. Always there, close enough for them both to reach out and grasp and yet, just out of reach. It's a line neither of them have dared to cross, both highly aware of the fact that if — when — they do, there will be no going back.

The unasked question that has always been there, but never spoken aloud, lies heavy between them.

'Are you feeling this, too?'

'No,' the other would always answer, just as silently as the question itself. Even if it's a lie. Even if it has always been a lie; one they've both told themselves and each other as a way to ensure they don't step over that line.

But, in that moment, Charles is sure he would never even want to go back. Sure that if there is one thing he wants almost as much as winning his home race tomorrow, it's crossing that line with Max. To give into that oh-so-powerful pull between them they've both been trying and failing to ignore for God knows how long.

They maintain eye contact only for a mere few seconds, but it's enough for Charles to see that flash in Max's eyes.

He wants to cross that line, too. It's about time. It's long overdue.

Max lets go of his hand and walks away, and Charles looks down at the ground briefly, trying to will his cheeks not to flush with the intensity of such a brief exchange in front of the camera, before returning his focus to the interviewer.

His mind, however, never lets go of Max.

If Charles hadn't already felt like he was flying, he sure as hell is now.

***

His phone vibrates in his pocket a little while later, and Charles feels his heart picking up the pace as he reads Max's name on the display.

'Congratulations on pole! Well deserved!'

His heart flutters.

'Thank you! I'm so happy 😊'

He sends a second text immediately after.

'It's a shame you're not up there with me, though'

Max doesn't leave him waiting long for a response.

'Still 78 laps to go, mate. You think I won't do everything to get into the top 3 tomorrow?'

Charles glances around, making sure nobody is paying attention to him as he tries and fails to bite back a smile as excitement starts coursing through him.

'You really think you can overtake two Mercedes, at least one McLaren and a Ferrari?'

It's a stupid question, Charles knows, because if anyone can do it in Monaco, it's Max fucking Emilian Verstappen. But he can't resist the jab; can't resist the urge to try to get under Max's skin, just a little. Just like he hasn't been able to resist since he and Max first met back in karting when when they were literal children.

The bubble with the three dots appears briefly before disappearing and reappearing a few seconds later. Then:

'To get to share a podium with you in your home race?'

'I could overtake Michael, Seb and Ayrton if I had to.'

The smile turns into a full-blown grin, and Charles feels giddy as he reads the two messages over and over again. The anticipation thrumming within him, bubbling just underneath the surface of his skin, is so overwhelming he needs three attempts to send his next message that consists of a single word:

'Yeah?'

Then, with more confidence:

'Prove it.'

Max's response is immediate.

'Oh, I will.'

As he pockets his phone, his heart beating wildly in his chest and his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, he knows Max isn't just talking about the race.

He hadn't thought he could feel even more excited about tomorrow than he already did, but as he has done so many times with so many things in the past, Max proves him wrong.

***

On Sunday, Charles is preparing to leave his driver's room and make his way to the garage to get ready for the race. But as he opens the door, he's met with the familiar face of Max Verstappen.

"Max, what are you—,"

The Dutchman places a hand on Charles' chest and firmly pushes him back into the room, following him inside and closing the door behind him with his foot in one swift movement. Charles barely has time to process what's happening before Max has grabbed a hold of his shoulder, turned him around and pushed him up against the wall by the door.

Charles has effectively lost his ability to speak as he watches Max lean in until their lips are mere inches apart.

"I needed to see you alone, before the race," he says, voice barely above a whisper. Max's hands drop from his shoulders, instead sliding down his chest, his stomach, coming to a halt on his waist. "To wish you luck."

Charles swallows past the lump in his throat. "You think I need it?" he asks, trying to sound calm and collected, but his voice betrays him almost as much as his dilated pupils do.

"No," Max says immediately, allowing his lips to brush featherlight against Charles'. It's not a kiss, and even if Charles so desperately wants it to be, he doesn't cross that line.

Not yet.

"But I wanted to do it anyway," the Dutchman adds, moving one hand from Charles' waist and raising it to cup Charles' jaw instead, letting his thumb drag gently over the Monégasque's bottom lip.

It sends a full-body shiver through him; one Max notices if the way the small smirk on his lips is anything to go by.

"Good luck, Charles," Max whispers, thumb still on Charles' bottom lip as he leans in closer, closer, until his lips are touching the back of his own thumb, the digit being the only thing separating them.

Charles' heart is beating so hard that he's sure Max must be able to feel his pulse against his thumb. The Dutchman's other hand tightens on Charles' waist, his pupils practically making the blue of his iris disappear altogether.

The thumb moves and Charles thinks that Max will finally — fucking finally, after far too many years — kiss him.

Only for Max to lean his head to the side and instead presses a gentle kiss to Charles' cheekbone; a careful brush of lips against soft skin.

"I'll see you on the podium," he breathes against the skin of Charles' cheek, before pulling away completely and turning to put his hand on the door handle. He pauses before opening the door, looking at Charles with an expression the Monégasque doesn't think he's ever seen before.

"Hey, Charles?"

The Monégasque blinks at him.

"Are you feeling this, too?" Max asks him then, voicing the question that has only been asked through looks up until that point.

And Charles, knowing there is only one correct answer — knows there is only one answer that conveys the truth — sticks with the lie.

For now.

"No."

Max smiles at him, a soft and private thing. Charles' own expression morphs into one of adoration and longing. He returns the smile.

"Me neither."

And with that, Max opens the door and walks out of Charles' driver's room, as if he hasn't just turned both their worlds upside down.

[upon-a-starry-night]

Number Neighbors Pt.8

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! reader

Natasha Masterlist Series Masterlist

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary:  When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

~~~~

After four months of texting, you’d decided Nat was officially your new best friend of all time. You wondered if she’d ever be open to the option of meeting up but considering her initial hesitancy to even text you in the first place you figured that option was faaar off of the table…at least for now anyway.

You’d grown used to texting her at least once a day, and spamming her on days she’d go silent.

 You didn’t know what she did for work but you understood a lot of jobs didn’t allow you to be on your phones, although she sometimes wouldn’t even respond during the night and it made you wonder if she worked some kind of occasional night job. It only helped solidify your theory that Nat was an FBI agent- or maybe a super spy. 

It would give you exponential bragging rights if you got to say your best friend was a super spy- although she’d probably have to assassinate you for spilling her secret and that would not bode well for you considering you had plans to travel the world before you died. 

Still- you had to admit the two of you were getting closer, and your conversations had become a wide range of you spilling your nonsensical thoughts and Nat growing increasingly more concerned for your mental health. 

       Nat🔪:

Y/n🍦:

Do you think because humans are full of water the same as cucumbers that we also have the potential to become pickled?

Nat🔪:

Your brain terrifies me

Y/n🍦:

When I die I don’t want to be cremated

I want to be pickled

Nat🔪:

Wow.

That’s…concerning

How have you survived this long?

You’d screenshotted the conversation and posted it on your story, to which your mother replied with apid curiosity about who you’d been texting. After explaining to your mother about your new budding friendship (leaving out the part where Nat was a complete and total stranger -your mother would freak) she expressed how excited she was for you to finally be reaching out and finding new friends. 

She also expressed her relief that there was someone else in the world willing to put up with your otherworldly intrusive thoughts. So Nat was now mother-approved, you outwardly fist pumped the air in the middle of your kitchen, 'best friend status' has been upgraded

—----

        Nat🔪:

Y/n🍦: 

Natalee

I have a theory

Nat🔪:

If it’s about my name I’m

just going to debunk it right now

Y/n🍦: 

What if the shit-tauri from the

Battle of shitstorm didn’t die

and they actually turned into the freakishly large

rats that live on the NYC subways?

Nat🔪:

Solid theory.

Any proof?

Y/n🍦:

Oh, lots.

But ya gotta earn it

Nat🔪:

…how so?

Y/n🍦: 

Truth or dare…

Nat🔪:

No.

Y/n🍦:

To THE DEATH

Nat🔪:

I’m in.

Y/n🍦:

I’m just joking.

I knew you would enjoy that part

My cynical little raincloud friend

Nat🔪:

Oh I'm yours now am I?

Y/n🍦:

The thing is- I am also almost

Certain you are a result of my delusional &

Lonely mind- thus you are My delusional imaginary friend

Since no one else can experience MY delusions :)

Nat🔪:

I’m very real Y/n.

Y/n🍦:

I believe you delusional Nat

Nat🔪:

That implies you are calling ME delusion.

Y/n🍦: 

maybe you are

Maybe I’M not even real!

Nat🔪:

How much have you had to drink?

Y/n🍦:

Nothing, why?

Nat🔪:

….

Seek professional help

Y/n🍦:

You should meet my therapist I think

you’d share the same sentiments.

Nat🔪:

Your therapist wants you

to seek professional help?

Y/n🍦:

My therapist needs a therapist because of me.

Anyways- do you want to earn the rat 

theory proof or are you too soft for it

Nat🔪:

I don’t think anyone has ever called me

“Soft” before

Y/n🍦:

Pfft

Okay “The Rock”

Truth or dare?

Nat🔪:

…

dare

You took a second to think of a dare, getting up from the couch to make yourself a cup of your favorite tea. As you stirred the honey into the steaming liquid you thought of what you could suggest given you knew nothing about her environment. Finally, an idea came into your head and you snickered as you quickly typed out the message. 

Y/n🍦:

I dare you to wear colors

Her response was immediate, a reaction you’d begun to get used to when texting Nat, it was a far cry from the hesitant hour-apart replies she used to give you. 

Nat🔪:

What is with you and judging my 

Choice of attire?

Y/n🍦:

The human eye can see 10 million colors

And you choose to wear black every day.

It’s absolutely outrageous.

I will not stand for it.

Nat🔪:

Jokes on you.

*image attached*

Much to your surprise the image Nat sent consisted of her viewpoint- the camera angled downwards- to show off the dark red t-shirt that Nat was pulling out to display to you to prove that she was in fact wearing color today.

The rest of the image only consisted of her black jeans, black sneakers, and a very boring glossy black flooring- unfortunately for you, it wasn’t shiny enough to give off any reflection of your online friend's face. 

However, this was the first time Nat had sent you a photo of herself- and you felt honored that she’d grown comfortable enough to show you a glimpse of her skin along with her outfit.

You beamed at the photo even after staring at it for 5 minutes- the fact that she was sharing this part of herself and also wearing color did things to your stomach. 

And maybe you made a little mental note in your head that she was wearing the color you said suited her best but you weren’t going to dive into that right now. 

You got up and did a little pace around your small living room, biting your thumbnail and wondering if you should comment on it before deciding you’d be more likely to get more photos the less you pointed them out.

Eventually, you sat back down on your couch, tucked your feet under you, and tried to formulate a response that didn't show how much you were internally freaking out. 

Y/n🍦:

God is real.

Nat🔪:

Ha ha.

Y/n🍦:

Wow It’s not even my birthday 

But this is a gift.

Truly.

Nat🔪:

You’re overdoing it.

Y/n🍦:

I’m actually crying.

Nat🔪:

Finally some good news.

Y/n🍦:

Hey!

Fuck you darth vader

Nat🔪:

these attempts at guessing

My name are getting worse

Y/n🍦:

I’m beginning to think

You frustrate me

on purpose sometimes

Nat🔪:

Everything I do is on purpose.

Y/n🍦:

I wasn’t.

You blushed at the accidental insinuation that Nat had ‘done’ you and quickly changed the subject.

Y/n🍦:

Your turn smartass

Nat🔪: 

Truth or dare Y/n?

After a few rounds of the two of you going back and forth daring each other to do ridiculous shit that may or may not have led to you chugging two full gulps of hot sauce (before and after evidence was provided) and you daring Nat to flirt with a random person in her contacts (Sorry to whoever ‘very old ice cube’ was in her phone, they seemed very flustered from the screenshots you received, another thing you were excited about but didn’t comment on). After all those dares you finally received the first truth proposition of the evening

Y/n🍦:

Truth or dare?

Nat🔪:

I think I’ve had enough of your

Unhinged dares.

Truth.

Y/n🍦:

You loved them-

Okay um…

Tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.

Nat didn’t respond for a while, whether she was thinking or busy you weren’t sure, you just watched as the typing bubble popped up and disappeared over and over again. You bit your thumbnail in anticipation. You thought it was an innocent enough question but the longer it took her to respond the more it felt like maybe such a simple question was more loaded than you’d anticipated

Maybe you should backtrack and ask another question… 

Just as you were about to call off your previous message Nat’s response came through. It was shorter than you’d been expecting it to be after she’d taken so long.

Nat🔪:

I used to do Ballet… and there was a time when I guess I didn’t hate doing it even though I was forced to.

With a confession like that you have a feeling there’s more to it- most people were forced to do some kind of extracurricular in their youth, plenty of your coworkers were former band kids. You knew that a lot of the time though, those activities could lead to a lot of trauma, some underlying family trauma, some mommy issues, or ruined confidence but you don’t ask. It feels like she’s shared something deeply personal although it might not sound like it to most people. 

And you’ll take anything new you can learn about her. 

The more you learn about her the more you’re fascinated by her. Even the little crumbs of info she gives you- a film she watched the other night, her waffle topping preferences. You think if it were any other person you probably wouldn’t care that much. 

But it’s Nat. 

So you make a notes tab and you start keeping track of the little things she tells you about herself. 

Because it’s Nat. 

And fuck if that wasn’t the most obvious shit in the world. 

You quickly shook your head and picked up your tea to take a sip, you weren’t going to let yourself think like that about someone you’ve never even met- and might never meet- you reminded yourself. You made a quiet noise of contemplation and shifted slightly on the couch before settling on a humorous response you hoped she understood as you acknowledging her loaded admission.

Y/n🍦:

Shit man, I used to do piano lessons

Nat sent back an unimpressed emoji and you barked out a laugh, having successfully eased whatever tension hung in the air- at least on your side. 

Nat was a mystery that was slowly coming unraveled, a puzzle that revealed its pieces little by little. The more you learned about her the more you liked her.

You just wished you could really see her.

Pt.9

A/n: Y/n's personality is based on my shower thoughts~Starry

------

Taglist:

@marvelwomen-simp @cd-4848 @wandanatlov3r @rebeltombraider @ctrlamira @fxckmiup @aliherreraaa @natsxwife @la-douler-ne-finite-jamais @romanoffsgal @moistblobfish

[sage-green-matcha]

MAROON - ETHAN LANDRY PT. 1 🍷🥀🔪

“The burgundy on my t-shirt when you splashed your wine into me, and how the blood rushed into my cheeks so, scarlet it was” - Taylor Swift

Content includes: mentions of murder, alcohol, pretty much it for this chapter!

Pt. 2 of Maroon | Pt. 3 of Maroon | PT. 4 of Maroon |

(A/n: This is the first chapter of a series! It’s gonna be ab 5-7 parts? I’m not sure yet. Hope you enjoy! )

<3

<3

<3

Your whole life you'd felt like an outcast, no friends, a broken family. You'd move around your entire childhood, you never had one place that you called home. You knew you couldn't get too comfortable anywhere you were.

That was until you moved to Woodsboro. You were there for your last two years of high school. Becoming friends with a group of "popular kids" but what you didn't know was that at the cost of having friends was death.

"Y/n, you okay?" Tara waved her hand in your face. "I- yea I'm fine" Your lips were agape, picturing the sight of the dead bodies you had seen in the past. You took it harder than everyone else. Sam kept trying to get you to go to therapy but you refused. You didn't think anything was wrong with you. But the situation changed how you looked at everyone and everything.

You couldn't trust anyone, nowhere was safe. You felt like there were eyes on you at all times. And you never dared to pick up any calls from unknown numbers. "I was asking what we should get for dinner? Everyone's coming over in a bit" "Oh uh, I'm fine with anything"

It was just a normal night to everyone else, but to you, the moon was the same as it was on that night. It was full, and it messed with your head. "Y/n...it might be last minute but do you wanna go to a party? It's Halloween themed and I know you've been wanting to wear your costume" She smiled at you.

She knew you would say yes, everyone loved when you were drunk. You were the same person from before the murders, the same funny, sweet, Y/n that gave no fucks. You let loose, you'd dance with anyone who asked and took whatever drink was handed to you.

"Yea, I'll get ready" "Nice" she squealed, leaving you alone. You kept your door open, finding your pink butterfly wing teeshirt, pairing it with a green mini skirt. It was simple enough but still cute, tying the shirt in the front to make the "slutty" aspect of Halloween come into play. You had a little flower crown, carefully placed butterflies all over it, a green bow in the back.

You did your makeup with care, adding glitter and gems to the sides of your eyes. "Hi Y/n...we're leaving soon" you responded to the unfamiliar voice, looking up quickly "Oh, hey Ethan...right?" He nodded. You'd be lying if you said you didn't think he looked silly. He was wearing a cardboard hat, grey tape around the edges to give it a "cleaned up" look.

"Yea...Ethan Landry" "And what are you supposed to be, Ethan?" He was really cute, he had a shy look in his eye, his cheeks covered in pretty roses blush color. "I'm a Knight" "Your armor isn't really shiny" he looked confused and kinda offended at the same time.

"I- I'm just kidding, sorry. I'll be out soon" You smiled up at him. He had pictured your smile in his mind and it was so much better than he had imagined. You were always quiet and serious in Econ class, but you looked so good with a smile on your face.

Luckily, Ethan would be getting to see you smile all night, the first one when you took your first shot of the night. "To the Fab 5, and! To Ethan, my roommate" "Chad ew, don't call us that" Tara cringed. "Yea! And Sams not here so it's not the full 5" you laughed. "Okay, okay whatever. Cheers guys" You took the small glass to your lips, burning liquid smoothly going down your throat, tossing away old memories and letting yourself go.

"Let's dance!" You dragged Tara to the dance floor also known as the living room, the smell of smoke filling your nose. "Does Sam know you're here?" "No!" She laughed and you shook your head. "You know she's gonna track you down, right?" "Nah, she won't find me"

You stumbled back to the kitchen, Ethan scrolling on his phone silently. "Hey, E...you drink?" You held up a bottle tauntingly and he shook his head. "Uh, no" "yea, I saw you spit out that shot" you smiled, turning back to the table of alcohol, pouring two shots of vodka. "Here" you handed him one, his shaky voice thanking you.

You liked Ethan, sure you'd only known him for a couple hours but he reminded you of yourself. Getting dragged into new friend groups where they don't quiet except you, feeling left out of jokes since he hadn't been here long. "How long have you been in New York?" You strike up a conversation, Anika stealing you back after the long chat. "Got eyes for Landry, huh?" "He's cute" you shrugged with a smile, taking a drink from the red solo cup in your hand. "Chads gonna freak"

Her eyes widened and so did her smile. It finally felt like you were trusting someone, opening up, and starting a conversation. You knew the next time you'd seen him he'd be confused by the lack of energy you'd have. In reality, the alcohol was what was giving you that boost.

You sat down next to the two girls, Mindy explaining her logic behind being at this party and the small chance of almost being killed again. "What about you Y/n? Aren't you a bit paranoid?" "Yeah, I guess. But I feel safe around you guys" you smirked. "Oh also Y/n, I don't Trust Ethan at all. He looks too innocent" "Isn't that the best part?" You laughed, Mindy with a disgusted look on her face.

"I'm gonna go stand in line for the bathroom" You blew kisses at them as you walked away, walking around to find the bathroom. You felt yourself lose balance as you walked, someone catching you as you felt liquid splash on your shirt. "Ah man, my shirt" You held onto the randos chest, trying to stay balanced. "Shit, Y/n...you okay?" You looked up with drunk eyes, Ethan looking down at you with concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine. But my shirt...not so much" You frowned, blush rushing into your cheeks as you looked at him. You untied your Tee, the Maroon color splashed all over your top, making it look like someone had stabbed you. "Is that wine?" He shrugged. "I'm not sure, this girl just gave it to me" he smiled, helping you hold yourself up against the wall.

"Thanks for catching me, I'm not completely drunk, these heels are just uncomfortable to walk in" You slipped off the gold shoes, Ethan standing next to you uncomfortably. "Uhm, let's get you a new drink, yea?" "Oh, no no it's okay. I wasn't gonna drink it...uhm it's fine" he stumbled over his words quite a lot. You couldn't tell if he was just nervous or if this is just how he was all the time.

"Ethan! My man!" Chads hand slapped over the poor boy's shoulder. "Whoah...Y/n, you look like you just got attacked...again" "Very funny Chad" you glared at him. "Hey uh, not to interrupt this throuple but your services are needed" Anika turned the corner as Chad sighed. "I'm needed, I'll be back" "Throuple huh...I think I'd like to just have fun with you, E" You held back a laugh, walking away with a smile and an awkward wink.

Ethan was left a flustered and confused mess, following to find Chad. As for you, you'd finally find the bathroom. Looking at your wine-splashed shirt. It was a familiar view. But instead of blood, it was an innocent drink. You lifted your shirt, your fingers tracing over the two, deep knife scars.

You were lucky to only get two lousy scars, compared to others...you told yourself you didn't have room to complain. After all, you were alive, you made it through the night and you took it to your advantage.

You snapped out of your trance as you heard a familiar voice. Sam, oh shit. "Excuse me" You struggled to push through the crowded hall, bumping into Ethan once you got to the scene. You moving to stand by his side. "Oh shit" you cringed as Sam took her taser to the man's crotch.

"Sam? Are you fucking kidding me? You're stalking me now?" You And Ethan watched in confusion, the dude now on the floor. "Holy shit! It's that psycho girl!" The room filled with laughter, grabbing Ethan's hand as everyone chased Tara.

"Is this like a regular thing in this friend group?" The group walked in unison, you And Ethan behind everyone else. "Yea," you sighed, feet aching with your shoes in your hand. "I like your flower thingy...by the way" "Thanks, made it myself" you took it off your head, handing it to him before stealing the cardboard hat from off his. "Trade me?" "Oh uh...yea" he placed the crown on his head awkwardly, trying to fix his hair as you slipped his hat over your head.

"Looks cute on you" The pink flowers matched with his soft personality, and his flushed cheeks. You on the other hand looked very strange, getting looks from the people that were once staring at Sam and Tara.

"Tara..will you stop?" Sam struggled to catch up with her sister, Tara not giving a fuck. "I cannot believe you did that, you embarrassed me!" "That gut was a dick! He was gonna take advantage of you" "So?!" You rubbed underneath your eyes, knowing that they were about to get into an argument yet again.

It was always like this, they argue just to never make up and argue again. It's a continuous cycle that has never ended. "So?" Sam repeated in shock. "If I wanna hook up with an ass hole that's my decision?! It's my decision" "Okay.." Sam scoffed.

"It's not about you!... You..you were out of my life for 5 years and then you can't leave me alone for 5 minutes" Sams's only and most used "comeback" was that Tara wasn't going to the councilor, That she wasn't dealing with what happened to her. You wondered if she thought the same thing about you, you were worse than Tara with the subject, you had completely blocked out any idea of it with anyone. Sure everyone knew what happened in the back of their head, but it was for the best if no one mentioned it.

"Hey...guys come on" Tara ignored Chad, trying to get them to stop. Tara rambled, even you thought her words were a bit harsh. "You just follow me here and you won't let me out of your sight" "Just...trying to look out for you" You could tell Sam felt defeated, rethinking her actions. "I know...I know you are. But you can't do it for the rest of my life, you have to let me go"

Next thing you knew the smell of cherry coke filled your nose, a drink splashed all over Sam by a random girl. The two were already at it, Sam trying to aggressively go after her, Chad pulling her back. "The fuck is wrong with you?" "You know what you did!" "I didn't fucking do anything!"

You waved at Ethan to follow you, chasing behind Mindy and the rest of the group. "I'm so fucking tired of this!" Tara's eyes watered in frustration, Chad rubbed her back Anika and Mindy holding hands as they walked. You only now realized how alone you were. Sure you'd have some flirty moments with Mindy or Anika but they were purely platonic, you'd never had an actual partner.

"Y/n, I heard what you said to Ethan, not that drunk huh?" She laughed. "He knows I'm kidding...or not. Right E?" "What?" He caught up and you smiled to the ground. "You talked to my bro? Damn, I guess you two would make a good pair" Chad laughed. "No, I don't trust him. He's weird, he always stutters when he talks. He's definitely hiding something" Mindy scoffed.

"I'm right here..." "No, he's just like that with Girls, Man has never experienced female contact" Ethan rolled his eyes, sighing. Mindy also rolled her eyes, she was always stubborn, especially when she was convinced someone was dangerous. "Well I'm gay, so I don't know why he's scared of me" "Maybe cause you're really intimidating, Mindy" Tara turned back, a broken smile back on her face.

"You are...kinda really rude too" "Am not, your face is just annoying to look at" your eyes widened. "Okay you two, cut it out" You all finally got to the apartment, running into your room to take off the wet, uncomfortable shirt. You placed Ethan's hat on your bed, finding a long sleeve and pj pants to switch into.

"Hey, here's your thingy back" he knocked on the door, handing it to you. "Oh, thanks" you grabbed his hat off the bed, giving it back. "I- I think I'm just gonna take it all off, restricting" you agreed. "Yea...plus the party's already over" "I...I'm really sorry about your shirt...by the way" "It's fine, ill just order another one"

"Y/n, hey I think you're gonna wanna see this" Chad called from the living room, you And Ethan rushing to his voice. He called out to Sam who was downstairs, the two of you meeting in the living room in shock. "Cute boy...nice" Quinn smiled and you smirked.

You stared at the Tv, "Also found at the scene were various Ghost Face costumes..." you heart dropped to your ass, you could feel tears start to form in your eyes. "I'm not doing this shit again" you rushed to your room, Sam chasing behind you. "Y/n...Y/n come on we can leave, I'll get tara" "Guys! Wait no! Hold on! No wait, let's talk about this for a second" the two of you had already made your way to the kitchen, knifes in hand.

"This might not have anything to do with us" "Are you serious?" Sam asked. Great, another argument. But this time you sided with Sam. This definitely had something to do with all of you. "It's Halloween! Everybody's wearing masks" "Tara! Tara, this isn't a coincidence!" Your eyes were wide, looking at her trying to find where she found the audacity to say that.

"Tara...we knew him" you spoke up. "He was in one of our classes! We Barley knew him" She scoffed. "Chad, Mindy back us up here" your eyes creased, heart pumping as if you'd just run a marathon. "I mean it is a little bit..." "close to home..." Mindy finished his sentence. "Quinn! Your dad's a cop right? Can you call him and see what's going on? Before you make the dumb ass decision to abandon my college education, and flee the fucking state?" Everyone looked up at Quinn, her Phone to her ear as she called.

You froze as you felt your phone ring in your pocket. Everyone's eyes on you. You slowly took it out, looking at the contact. "Who is it?" You let out a small sigh of relief. "It's just Gale, probably excited about the new book opportunity" you held your face in your palms. "Why'd everyone just freak out when her phone rang?" "You gotta keep up My Dude" you felt your heart beat faster, holding back tears.

"Sam, my dad wants to talk to you" you rushed to your room, closing the door behind you. You fell against it, tears spilling out. You thought you'd finally escaped it, but now your progress was ruined, you were back at square one. It was only bound to get worse, this was just the beginning.

[the-writing-mobster]

| TMDG | Ch. 14 - The Sacrificial Lamb | 💙 🔪 💔 |

.

.

.

Chapter 14 is out! Link is ↑↑ up there! Check it out ~ if you dare ~~~ 🫣

Chapter Excerpt:

—

Ibrahim had walked in on her strapping beretta magazines to her belt. Her gun, nestled in her holster. “What are you doing?” he’d asked, his voice laced with alarm. How could she begin to explain herself? To explain what she’d seen. What she had realized. It wouldn’t make sense. Not really. Not to anyone but her. It was by design.

“The next target—” 

“What’s going on, what did you find out?” 

Frisk had paused. Would he try to stop her? Convince her this was madness? Or worse… Would he try to understand? 

“Ibra… I need you now, more than ever to trust me.” 

Ibrahim had stared at her, mouth agape, puppy-eyes wide with shock. As if her words implied he had never trusted her before. “What’s… going on? Frisk—”

“—You were right.”

“Right about what?” 

“He’s playing a game, and if I want to save her, I have to play too. I’m the only one who can. The only one who can understand the clues he left. It’s all here!” She had tossed the old newspaper onto the bed next to a box of bullets. 

“Everything he wants me to know. The time, the date, the plan. He wants to see if I’m savvy enough to pick up on it. If I’m crazy enough to go through with it.” 

Ibrahim rubbed his worried brow as he stared down at the contents of the paper. 

“Are you?”

—

Chapter theme:

[dreamgirllz]

Infatuated

Author note: HII yes I know it’s been about a month 🗿 forgive me… this is very tooth rotting 😍

Tanjiro(you work for lady tomoya)

-zenistu(you're a slayer he met on a mission alone)

-inosuke(you're a slayer he met)(And yes he has had character development with the help of tanjiro)

Tanjiro-

After lady tomoya's first place was destroyed she moved safely to another one. Tanjiro would visit sometimes. Before tanjiro even met you he fell in love with your scent. He didn't know he was smelling you but he'd find himself smiling as he thought of a lovely spring day. That's what the fragrance reminded him of.

Your scent lingered around the mansion even though you were working outside bringing lady tomoya things for experiments.

You two finally met when tomoya called you in to meet tanjiro. As soon as you two made eye contact his cheeks went a pretty pink.

"Oh hello l'm taniro and this is my sister nezuko!" He walks to you shyly reaching to shake your hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, I must be heading back now." You said leaving, lady tomoya starts explaining things to him about his sister.

But he was Infatuated. Yushiro hit tanjiro's head, "how dare you space out as lady tomoya is speaking?! Are you crazy!" Tomoya laughed and told yushiro to calm down, which he did immediately. "I'm so sorry! I don't know what got over me! I'll pay attention more." He said giving his famous sweet smile. "You can always visit tanjiro, she always busy. I'm pretty sure she wouldn't mind some help. Tomoya clearly knew what was going on. "R-right, I'll see when I have some time off."

Even though tanjiro was a busy slayer he always tried to make time, cramming things in just to spend a few hours talking to you. He's just so good to you, you better return the sweet boys feelings.(or else 🤭🔪)

Zenistu-

We all know any girl that passes zenistu he's head over heels trying to marry her. But after encountering you there was no way he was going to go up to any other girl.

Zenistu was on a mission alone, of course against his will. In his mind he's thinking why they give him a demon this hard! In reality he wasn't really trying. He was too busy just running for his life.

Zenitsu caught your eye as you saw a yellow man running through the woods. In the directions you came from. Then you saw the demon chasing him, you run behind them obviously to save him. The yellow boy runs into the tree, possibly getting a concussion. The demon reaches out to strike him as he screams loudly. You sever the demons head off saving the boy just in time.

"Woah!! Did you see that I almost died! These slayers are going to cause my death before can get close to getting a wife!!!" He screeched through out the woods, you rolled your eyes.

"Aren't you a slayer? Why are you running from a lowly demon like that?" You said reaching into your pocket pulling out bandages. He went dead silent after hearing your angelic voice. You wrap his head up to stop the bleeding on his forehead. "Your so quiet now? Is there something wrong, It doesn't look like you lost a lot of blood just yet." He stared up at your facial features in a Infatuated way. "Are you married?" He asked in a soft tone, you shook your head no. "What makes you say that?!" He shot up from the ground, "THAT GIVES ME A CHANCE!!! PLEASE BE MY WIFE PLEASE!!!!"

He chased you through the woods begging over and over again for you to marry him. (Good luck 🥱)

Inosuke-

Inosuke was on a mission to the mountains to slay a demon who's been giving other passing slayers problems.

He marched up the mountain looking for the demon but instead finding you on the ground shivering really bad. He couldn't tell if you were a man or a girl. The demon came out of nowhere trying to launch a silent attack.

"HAHA! You thought I would fall for that lame slow attack." Of course he did taunt the demon...

He fought the demon for about 5 minutes with out a scratch on his body. * that was way to easy! I want more!" Then he remembered that he found a slayer not to long ago. He went back to the area, and threw you over his shoulders; running down the mountain. The ride was bumpy and definitely very uncomfortable. As soon as he met the forest floor he dropped you on the floor. "Ah! What the." your eyes shot open making eye contact with a pig man on top of you looking down. You thought it was a demon but you realized it wasn't. "Are you a slayer? Where's a your shirt it's freezing out here." He laughed loudly, "the strongest slayer doesn't need a shirt! I'm too cool for one! Don't think I saved you because I care!" It was hard to understand, but you knew he was spewing nonsense. "Don't worry I wasn't planning on saying thank you anyways" you say struggling to get up. "Your welcome! What? I saved your life praise me girl! Banjiro said I have to save people it's a good thing or whatever. Praise me, I'm your god!" You collapse from the cold, "hey this is no place for sleeping wake up! Oh." he finally realizes you were freezing to death.

He took off the fur from around his waist when covered you with it. He then took you in his arms and headed to a near by abandoned house.

You wake up in the house and look around, wondering where you were. "Woah! This is the second best nirichin l've seen. Of course mine is the first best one!" He said examining your blade. You breathe out feeling relieved. "So you actually dragged me here?" You asked looking up at him, "duh! Who else is that amazing!?" "Woah you carried me here all by yourself, you must be the strongest man alive." You joked, but he didn't see it as sarcasm. He doesn't know what sarcasm is.. His heart got tight in his chest.

"You think so. he asked sitting down by you.

"Yes definitely", you lay back down laughing. He just spaced out looking in your direction. He didn't understand he was feeling Infatuated.

Not many people at all have anything nice to say to him other than tanjiro. Even if you were being sarcastic he took it seriously. (Please a sarcastic and passive y/n would be so perfect for inosuke.)

[moon8th]

Thoughts on Sagittarius Risings 💭

Spreading their Truth

The Ultimate Rebel placement, there are literally too many forms of pictures/music/art in general I can’t fit on this 1 post about these expansive Jupiter natives

Sagittarius is tapped into the higher chakras, (knowing, thinking, speaking) acting as “The Teacher” archetype, some able to touch the world 🌍!! don’t get too self righteous about that saggy, stay grounded, honestly I think life naturally humbles us anyway

~Bob Marley ~Jimi Hendrix

Rockstar Lifestyle!! Bc of there Gemini 7th house ong these natives want to learn about anything they deem will expand their minds for the best! Most Sag Risings desire to travel the world!! Explore and experience, they deeply impact there partners life by expanding their psyche and expanding their own

Aries 5th house,, these natives are most creative when they are just expressing themselves, (Aries is the self) so whatever fires them up emotionally and makes them passionate is wholeheartedly what you’ll see them lean into!

Humanitarians! Every single person I list on this post is/was for the people, Libra 11th house makes them see “the other, the partner” on a societal level. They really do care and want to help the world as much as they can

~Jhene Aiko ~Erykah Badu

“I am Alice, I’m in Wonderland” ~Jhene Aiko Bc of their Pisces 4th house, ooof these people come from such a confusing upbringing! As they grow, they wake up from their dream-like state and feel the extreme need to bring big truth and healing to the world (Virgo 10th house)

Sag 1st house, something is always big about them lol, it most likely is their presence in general (aura) but added to that it can also be their huge smile/muscle prominence/really tall/ really short/eyes/voice/etc.

Aquarius 3rd house, our mouths are slliiiicckk lmaaoo fast and sharp🔪, maybe we should check ourselves before we speak 😭😭, but some ppl need to hear the truth 🗣️🗣️

~Bruce Lee ~Wiz Khalifa

They are heartthrobs. please just look @ them broo 😭 too unique

But fr bc of their stubborn Taurus 6th house, they should build a healthy everyday routine, they can really benefit from doing some form of spiritual/traditional/body centering workout such as martial arts/yoga/kickboxing/swimming/weightlifting/etc.

Tattoos for us can be spiritual af, I have very sentimental ones, but look up Jhenes fr

As a Sag Rising, I always get called “spiritual” by ppl whether they mean it in a nice way or not.. which is fine when ppl are being nice🫶🏽 , but the people that are judgmental, they’re just trying to tame me, it backfires- I dare someone to try to tame a Sag Rising 😭😭✌🏽🖕🏽

~Nelson Mandela ~Princess Diana

Wellllll I feel as though these 2 don’t need an intro lmaoo, I forgot that they even knew each other!! Big Humanitarian Energy!!

Scorpio 12th house.. tbh it’s hard for me to fully grasp this placement bc it’s mine, however I do know it can make someone very intuitive- you can literally look at Diana in old videos and tell by her eyes she was reading everyone correctly

Tropical Sagittarius in Vedic can be the nakshatras Anuradha, Jyeshta, and Mula, which one is your ascendant?

All I can say is wHAT a line up! I tried not to be too bias, but I love us fr lol 🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽 lmk what y’all think

[writers-ex]

who dat b

girlfriend!yuna x fem!reader

word count: 642

warnings: jealous yuna, established relationship, reader is a simp for another idol and yuna is not having it, argument, reader makes up with yuna, praise and fluff, suggestive ending, teasing yuna = dom!yuna <3, i mean no disrespect to jessi but i simp for her so she'll be mentioned here as the idol you simp :3

a/n: this was part of a fanfic exchange idea, i made this for @ryuttaeng based on this prompt list, hope you like it anastasia and fellow anons/followers <3

🔪 ★﹏★ % 金

"yuna yuna yuna!!! look!!! jessi unnie came out with a new song!! did you hear it?"

"jessi unnie has the sexiest body ever on the planet, true mommy material!" (facts)

"yuna jessi unnie is so sweet did you see what she did at the music bank?"

"oh jessi is perfect! just look at her!" holding your phone up you show yuna a photo of jessi from her latest instagram post. rolling her eyes yuna gives you a fake smile and gets up to grab something from the kitchen. "oh wait she's doing a live now!!" eagerly clicking the notification you watch with awe as your idol appears on the phone screen talking about her day and thanking the fans for everything. "oh unnie the things you do to my poor little heart ahhhhh~!!" squealing you hit a pillow holding on tightly to your phone when a loud noise startles you. turning your direction to the kitchen you see yuna's fist on the fridge door, her eyebrows furrowed.

"can you stop talking about them for one second? because frankly, i don't give a fuck about them or what they do to your poor little heart." with teeth bared she stomps over to the room leaving you frozen on the couch. jessi's voice wakes you up from your trance you look over at the open door and then back at your phone wondering if you should let yuna cool down or comfort immediately. turning off your phone you rush over to the room and see your girlfriend hugging your pillow, biting your lip you enter the room and take a seat next to her your heart racing faster than normal.

"babe..." turning over to face the wall you sigh and think of what to say, patting her thigh softly you wait a moment and then continue speaking. "you know she's just an idol i admire and not the person i love the most." seeing her shift her weight to face you better you take it as a sign to keep going.

"of course i would gush about my idol she's someone i support, you're the person i adore and cherish. you're the reason i get up in the morning and want to keep living." squeezing her thigh you watch her scowl turn into a doleful look. "your eyes make my heart race every time you glance my way. your lips are softer than cotton candy and if i dare say taste better too. your nose is perfect to rub against mine and to kiss when you're down or looking cute. don't even get me started on your fingers babe yuna your fingers make me-" covering your mouth with her hand you see yuna trying to bite back a smile from growing.

"shut up i understand already. were you shakespeare in your past life?" grumbling your ecstatic look makes yuna remove her hand and loosen her grip on the pillow. with a teasing tone, you poke her cheek and lean close to whisper into her ear.

"you should've let me finish babe." guiding her hand down to your throbbing pussy yuna inhales sharply at how much heat she could feel coming from your core. "give me a chance to prove what you do to my heart...after jessi's live stream though~" bragging you jump out of bed and make your way to the door, moving quickly yuna grabs the belt loop of your jeans and drags you back to lay on the bed. with a hungry look, she towers over you.

"and just where do you think you're going kitten?" squirming from her hand cupping your clit her cheeky smile that makes you blush. "let's get that heart racing now."

[shyweeb]

Michael Myers reacting to his gf almost killing someone to protect him

» I was thinking about writing this for a looong time Then i felt inspired and writed it,it may be a little shitty cuz I'm really tired after waking up early today sorry sweethearts.and this is really short sowwy uwu oni ch- joking,just be advised that this is not so long 😀

Warnings:cursing!mention of killing!guns!killing!gore at the end! F!reader

Music recommendation to listen while reading this:

Or

(pretty shitty ik)

Michael Audrey Myers 🔪

- you were waiting him at home in a Halloween night then you decided to go take a look at the window when suddenly you saw him with his clothes all bloodied and some shot holes in his blue mechanic jumpsuit in the middle of the street chasing some stupid fake Blondie in only her underwear who was struggling to walk because she had a wound in her leg probably made by Michael

- you were shocked when the fake blonde bitch started to run to the direction of the Myers house and even more shocked when she took out a gun and aimed at your man resting her back against the door

- when she prepared to shoot Michael in the head even knowing that he wouldn't die you acted on instincts and opened the door making the girl fall on the floor and shooting the roof of the house

- still worried she would do something to Michael you straddled her hips and started beating her head against the floor gripping her stupid fake blond hair and not stopping until she pushed you of her and tried to aim at you

- until Michael saved you by kicking the gun out of her hands and smashing her skull with his hands until it was crashed.

-he looked at you before holding the body and literally throwing it out the door and closing it,then he came next to you and gently brushed his hands against you cheekbone and,after a long time he realized that he was scared he would lose someone again,losing you was something he could not allow himself to go through,you could see it by the way his shoulders gone up and down showing he was breathing in an accelerated pace that he was nervous.

- after this day he made sure he would not kill near your house when it was possible

- he became even more agressive towards the ones who came near the house. (If it was even possible lol)

-may god bless the ones that dare to try to touch you

- after this event everyone in handdonfield knew that you were his.

- you were known as the bride of the shape after this

» my final thoughts on this:

this sucks :(

(Sorry for the blondes out there 🤡)

(Written by @shyweeb )

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

yeah so @chaotic-on-main was chatting with me about an angst idea that triggered another angst idea that resulted in this post so go check out her oneshot first 🔪🔪

I'm Sorry | Canonverse Angst Drabble

✧ word count ➼ ~400 ✧ notes ➼ canon!verse, angst, death, grief, im not sorry :)

Every step felt agonizing. Your grip around the flowers were now nowhere near gentle. You walked through the aisles of fallen soldiers until you reached the very end.

Despite constantly being hailed as Humanity's Strongest, Levi Ackerman finally fell in battle. It was a blur of chaos. He was there one minute and then he just...wasn't.

You looked at his name.

It felt so empty now. You remembered going ballistic, screaming, and flailing in denial at the idea that he was gone, no matter how many people told you the truth. Now that you've accepted it, you felt nothing but emptiness—and rage.

"How dare you leave me," you hissed underneath your breath.

The thunder clapped ominously in the background.

"How dare you die without me."

Your grip on the flowers tighten to the point that the stems no longer stood straight.

You knew you were being unfair. He had died to protect you—but you were so, so angry. You were angry at him for dying. You were angry at the world for taking him from you. You were angry at yourself for failing to save him.

Unable to take it anymore, you threw the flowers down towards his grave in a fit of rage. There was an unreadable expression on your face.

Levi Ackerman was gone. No matter how much you resisted against it, he was gone.

You glanced down at his tombstone again. You breath got caught in your throat as you looked back down at the flowers that were now chaotically scattered around the tombstone.

The emptiness you felt within you seemed to implode within itself. You suddenly felt like your body was trying to drag you down into the earth to be with him. You didn't even have a body to bury.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled as you knelt down and fixed the flowers, your hands shaking as you picked up the stems and the fallen leaves.

"I'm sorry," you repeated. You weren't sure if the wetness streaming down your face was from the tears or the incoming rain.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you," you said as you placed the flowers on his grave, gripping at the ground.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

You collapsed onto the ground in a defeated fashion, burying your face in your hands as you quietly sobbed.

"I'm sorry I failed you," you said underneath your breath, "Levi."

:)

#: @chaotic-on-main @romantichomicide95 @levisbrat25 @leviismybby @moonmalice @averysmolbear @cathybarn @tclbts @belovedackerman @bejewelledd @sad-darksoul @ackermendick @aomi04 @apolloshaiku @laraackerman @pulpolicia @raenacreates @nube55 @roseofdarknessblog @saeonara @noctemys @sixpennydame @sleepyfairyxo @heichoucleanfreak @svftackerman @levis-squishy-cheeks @dumbfound-princess @evas-leslas @einnyl @mrsmiagreerjoin my taglist!

[1lostsoul0fishbowl]

🍄, 🔪 and 🎨 for the ask game!

Thanks for the ask my lovely!!! 🥰

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

El and Gareth absolutely adopt a dog as soon as they start living together. I imagine them going to an animal shelter just to look around, and El overhearing an employee saying “nobody will ever adopt this one, these dogs are monsters.” She instantly demands to see the monster dog, and of course it’s not a monster at all, it’s the cutest tiny little pit bull puppy, and El and Gare instantly fall in love with her and name her Bosco since she’s chocolate brown. 😊

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

Just recently I was trying to find out what long distance phone calls would cost in the 80s. I didn’t manage to get any info either.

🎨 ⇢ link your favourite piece of fanart and explain why you like it

My favorite Hellcheer fanart is this one, because this is the picture that inspired me to start writing.

And it’s definitely hard to choose a favorite among the artworks I’ve commissioned, but for the happy summertime vibes I’ll choose this one of Stali and Greatmage. (To see more of them, check out the “artwork” tags I’ll add!)

📓 writers truth or dare asks - send me some!

[kinaesthetiqueer]

For the writers truth or dare :)

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? 

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

gonna give slightly different/expanded answers for these than earlier!

🍓

> i was always taught to imagine myself in the books i read as a kid.

> i have a very overactive and cinematic imagination.

> eventually i got tired of restarting daydreams in my head and wrote them down.

🍄

> i was focused on beacon era/ssavau earlier so let's go with post v9 nordic winter!

> let's see how much i can say without rewriting three separate wips lol

> nora hugs everyone individually when they get back. only person she hugs longer than weiss is jaune

> nora shares her sunscreen with weiss- the stuff that's formulated specifically for scars

> once she catches wind that nora isn't taking care of herself, weiss makes it her mission to hunt her down

> weiss makes nora slow down, forces her to stop running herself ragged, by asking for her help with little things

> when she's trying to give the bees their space, weiss seeks out nora in her room and just quietly enjoys her company

> weiss sometimes tries to make up for silence between them, because nora isn't quite as bubbly these days, but more often than not, they just kind of sit in silence

> weiss falls asleep on nora's floor. wakes up some hours later with a blanket draped over her and nora curled up next to her back to back. she didn't want to wake weiss but she felt bad sleeping on the bed

> they Do Not Talk About This

> this probably keeps happening until nora drags weiss into bed before she falls asleep one night. then it escalates to weiss just sleeping in nora's bed when she's lonely or exhausted. then one morning, weiss kisses nora on the forehead before getting out of bed.

> (nora *has* a roommate by the way. it's neon. neon is simply taking bets.)

> weiss doesn't even realize what she's done for the longest time. nora thinks she dreamed it.

> coco catches wind of the betting pool and shuts it down, approaches weiss to make sure she's aware of what she's doing

> weiss is not aware.

> oh no.

> this leads to some confusion and self discovery, mostly on weiss' part. nora is a bit bemused because she's acting sort of weird now.

> i don't know what you call aurora borealis when it's nora/ren + nora/weiss + ren&weiss.

> long story short, nora has two hands.

> good news everyone! i did not rewrite three existing wips! i just accidentally plotted out their finale. task failed successfully.

🔪

> me personally and recently because i can never remember anything ever(as opposed to asking friends for help): yesterday i was researching average speeds of passenger trains. now that i'm thinking about it, i probably should have specifically looked up what type of train the argus limited was based on. fuck. welp gonna go do that now

thanks for the ask!!

[truth or dare questions here]