#Markiplier x abused reader

[umbral-archives]

Kinktober 2024: Day 8 | Boot Worship Breeding + Murdock

Rating: NSFW MINORS DNI

AFAB!Reader/Femme

Pairing: Murdock (Markiplier CU) x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Breeding Kink, Eldritch Anatomy, Tentacles, Pet Names, Risk/Intent Kink, Helplesssness Kink, Risky Sex, Dirty Talk, Dubcon to Hell and back your honor, Murdock is just a nasty fucker ok

I can't write boot worship worth a shit so we're doin this. Also be aware that this is my brand of breeding kink. No, nothing happens. My brand.

My brand! i have speshul eyes 👁👁

Word Count: 916

Ragged, gasping breaths and desperate noises scatter into the air, puffs of condensed steam mingling together before fading into the twilight. Autumn chill nips at your bare skin, but the human-shaped space heater beneath you more than makes up for the cooler weather.

So focused you are on your pleasure, you barely register the cold now.

Murdock fucks up into you ruthlessly, wantonly–an overwhelming need meeting the desperate cant of your hips down onto his cock. Each thrust–god you can practically feel him in your throat–knocks the wind out of you, scattering your already hair-thin self control and tipping the scales in his favor yet again.

Greedy bastard.

This had all started out in a rare instance of you initiating, riding him–trying to regulate the encounter on your terms. Controlling the speed, the depth, teasing him–trying to get him to cum first.

A tall order with his stamina, but you’re no quitter.

Oh, but then you had to go and get cocky at a particularly uncharacteristic noise he made, reeling from an adrenaline high. You’d made some offhand comment, grinding down on his cock languidly–and the look he shot you when you stopped…

Murdock is never one to let hubris go unpunished.

And here you are. Forced to cum on his cock again and again, your mind systematically turned to mush, leaking out of your ears with the rest of your self control. Lost to sensation, to his sinful words and the inevitable end of your encounter–

Which is coming much sooner than you realize.

Murdock’s thrusts intensify, dragging you down onto his cock, jolting an incoherent cry from deep in your chest. Your hands splay across his bare chest as you try to reclaim some sort of balance but he doesn’t let you, firmly gripping your hips and fucking up into you with abandon. Practiced, intentional–he knows exactly what pace to take, which angle has you at your weakest.

Pliant for him.

You can feel yet another orgasm rushing up to meet you, that abused coil tightening up yet again, breath catching as you struggle to fight it. It almost feels wrong to do so, so attuned you are to his desires–but you started this, you want to end it on your terms.

So you struggle power from him the only way you know how: denial.

“N-No-” you choke out, trying to squirm out of his grip.

Murdock doesn’t stop, eyes glinting with a dangerous light as he slows down just enough to grind up into you. Forcing your clit against his pubic bone, delighting in the little squeaks each maddening swirl earns him.

“No?” he echoes mockingly, leaning up from his seat. You look absolutely wrecked and it does nothing but inflate his ego further. “Since when are you into edging, Sweetheart?”

You shake your head, pushing at his chest, trying and failing to get up out of his lap. “D-Don’t w-wanna cum-”

And that’s when he understands–at least his version of understanding. Your little helplessness kink, denial on the grounds of dubcon. Resistance.

Too bad he’s not into games, not when he’s this close.

Murdock smiles cruelly. Something small, devious and black flickers into existence by your hip. The newly manifested tentacle attacks your clit at the same time Murdock begins his pace anew–and every conceived plan of yours falls to threads in your mind.

Each thrust drags you closer and closer to that inevitable cliff, every twitch of that little bastard tentacle forcing you much faster than you thought possible. Within seconds, you’re curling up over him, mouth caught in a soundless scream, all but begging him for more and–

Then it all stops.

Murdock stops. Leaves you wailing, twitching, right on that blissful edge of oblivion, dragging you off his cock just as easily as you sank down upon it. You collapse onto his chest, squirming, incoherent pleas caught in your throat, desperation taking over and it burns.

That kind of denial always burns–

The world tilts suddenly and you’re on something soft–warm leather and the scent of pine, Murdock’s coat beneath you–before a heavy presence behind you brings you back to reality. Murdock’s hand around your throat, forcing you face down, ass up as he practically mounts you.

Balls deep before you can think, a languid thrust that forces all thought from your head, the breath form your lungs. Pressing your face into the soft fabric of his coat, muffling your incoherent sounds.

Your arms and legs tremble as you squirm, try to regain control enough to push back- but then there’s the familiar sensation of tendrils winding up your arms, pulling them behind your back and securing them there.

Shit– hell, where did this come from–

“There we go,” he rumbles from above you, breathless and hungry in his own right. Open-mouthed kisses against your shoulder, his warm breath against your ear. “Pretty little thing… you can’t expect me to deny you this, can you?”

“M-Murdock, wait-” you gasp out, cut off when another full-body thrust jolts you forward, a tentacle wound around your hips dragging you back into it. Hitting deep. Right where you need him.

“Especially with what day it is-”

Shit– Fuck– Oh god wait– Yesyesyesyes–

A shameful thrill shudders up your spine and he feels you clench around him, all the indicator he needs to resume that bone-rattling pace, fucking you into the back seat of his Challenger.

“M-Murdock!”

“That’s it, Sweetheart, fuck–keep saying my name. Missed this greedy little cunt-held off for a while, know how much you need it. We’re gonna make sure it takes this time.”

[jacksepticeye-simp]

Masterlist + DNIs

Side blogs: @antisepticeye-simp @pigeon-detector @mostdefinitelyjackieboyman @darkiplier-simp

Green = Will do/Interact

Yellow = May not do/Thin ice

Red: Will not do/Do not Interact

I will do:

Markiplier egos

Jacksepticeye egos

Yandere stuff

Polyamory stuff

X reader stories

Enemies to lovers

Fantasy AUs (exg: Vampire Darkiplier x Reader)

Female Readers

Gender Neutral Readers

Male Readers

Semi spicy/suggestive stuff

Interact:

Markiplier fans

Jacksepticeye fans

BATIM fans

FNAF fans

LGBTQ+ and/or allies

Crankgameplays fans

Natewantstobattle fans

Amyplier lovers (Mark x Amy)

Cat lovers

I might do:

FNAF x reader stories (Human characters only)

Smut

Crankgameplays egos (I don't know much about his egos but I'll do my best to research about them)

Natewantstobattle egos (Same as the above)

Thin Ice:

MHA fans

Harry Potter fans

Will NOT do under any circumstance:

Incest

Ships (egoxego)

Youtuber ships (Septiplier, crankiplier, whatever. Shipping real people is weird as fuck unless they're okay with it or are actually dating.)

Pedophilia

Rape

Non-con

Watersports

Scat

Heavy pet play

Parent kinks

Heavy breeding kink

Dub-con

Abuse of any kind

DNI:

Religious people

Septiplier/Crankiplier shippers

Cat haters

People who like shotacons/lolicons

Proshippers

Racists

Homophobes

Transphobes

JK Rowling supporters/defenders

FANDOMS:

(Some of this is dead dove, be aware)

Markiplier egos:

Googleplier:

Beautiful (Yandere Googeplier x Gender Neutral reader || TW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT/ IMPLIED BODILY MUTILATION)

Perfection (Part 2 of 'Beautiful' || TW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT/ IMPLIED BODILY MUTILATION)

Murdock:

This category seems to be empty, check back later!

Wilford Warfstache:

Confession (Wilford Warfstache x GN! Reader || TWs: None)

Illinois Jones:

Illinois Jones & the quest for the shadow sapphire, PROLOUGE

Illinois Jones & the quest for the shadow sapphire, Part 1

Heist! Mark:

This category seems to be empty, check back later!

Mayor Damien:

This category seems to be empty, check back later!

Darkiplier:

Vulnerable (Darkiplier x Female Reader || TWs: None)

Behind the door (Darkiplier x reader || TW: Petrification)

Welcome Home, PROLOGUE (Darkiplier x reader)

Welcome Home, Part 1 (Darkiplier x reader)

Welcome Home, Part 2 (Darkiplier x reader)

Welcome Home, Part 3 (Darkiplier x reader)

Welcome Home, Part 5 (Darkiplier x reader)

Welcome Home, Part 4 (Darkiplier x reader|| TW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT / IMPLIED DRUGGING)

Welcome home, Part 6 (Darkiplier x reader||TW: MURDER/IMPLIED LIGHT VIOLENCE)

Pains (Werewolf! Darkiplier x GN! reader || TWs: None)

Gratitude (Jackieboy Man x Reader x Darkiplier) || Part 1 || TWs: None ||

Date night (Darkiplier x reader x Antisepticeye || Polyamorous || TWs: Very light fighting between Dark and Anti, mentions of blood)

Head Engineer Mark:

Confident (Head Engineer Mark x reader)

Yancy:

This category seems to be empty, check back later!

Annus:

This category seems to be empty, check back later!

Bingiplier:

This category seems to be empty, check back later!

The God of Night:

This category seems to be empty, check back later!

The Necromancer:

This Category seems to be empty, check back later!

Septic Egos

Antisepticeye:

Panic Attack (Antisepticeye x reader || Platonic || TWs: Panic attack/ mentions of arguing)

Date night (Darkiplier x reader x Antisepticeye || Polyamorous || TWs: Very light fighting between Dark and Anti, mentions of blood)

Jameson Jackson:

This category seems to be empty, check back later!

Chase Brody:

This category seems to be empty, check back later!

Shawn Flynn:

This category seems to be empty, check back later!

Jackieboyman:

Gratitude (Jackieboy Man x Reader x Darkiplier) || Part 1 || TWs: None ||

Marvin the magnificent:

This category seems to be empty, check back later!

Robbie the zombie:

This category seems to be empty, check back later!

Henrik Von Schneeplestein:

This category seems to be empty, check back later!

Ethan Nestor's' egos

Blank gameplays:

This category seems to be empty, check back later!

Unus:

This category seems to be empty, check back later!

Mad Mike:

This category seems to be empty, check back later!

Five Nights At Freddy's

PSA: Don't touch Freddy. please./j

Michael Afton:

This category seems to be empty, check back later!

Michael Schmidt (Movies):

This category seems to be empty, check back later!

Jeremy Fitzgerald:

This category seems to be empty, check back later!

Vanessa (Games):

This category seems to be empty, check back later!

Vanessa (Movies):

This category seems to be empty, check back later!

William Afton (Games):

This category seems to be empty, check back later!

William Afton (Movies):

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Henry Emily:

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I think that should be it for fandoms and characters. I'll add more to this in the future.

[jackatt14]

OPENING WRITING COMMISSIONS

Prices:

1¢ (USD)= 1 word (Drabbles are 100 words and woul be $1.00. A fic with 1,000 words would be $10.00)

My limit would be 5k words at most

Payment method will consist of PayPal and Cash App

———————————————————————————

What I'll write:

-Canon x canon (Fanon included)

-Oc x oc

-Romance

-Fluff

-Slice of life

-Any characters/ocs with lgbtq identities

-Minor blood/gore

-Drabbles

-Swearing

-Oneshots

What I'll maybe write:

-Angst/Hurt and comfort/Hurt no comfort (I'm not the best with these,, but I'll TRY)

-Fight scenes (I've done this only once,, but im willing to try again)

-Death

-Horror (Have never rlly written this before)

-NSFW (details needed and not the best at)

What I won't write:

-Extreme gore or blood

-Anything illegal/problematic (Proships,, con-ship,, etc)

-Religion

-Self harm

-Suicide

-First-person

-Oc x canon

-Canon x reader

-Full stories (I have yet to do this LMAO)

-Discrimination towards race or gender (Unless,, only MENTIONED)

-Abuse

———————————————————————————

Fandoms I'm familar with:

Undertale

Deltarune (mostly)

My Chemical Romance

Doki Doki Literature Club

Good Omens

Youtuber alter egos (Jacksepticeye and Markiplier)

Sander Sides

Eddsworld

Vocaloid

(if u have questions abt any other fandoms,, please ask!!)

———————————————————————————

AO3 with examples (more examples can be sent through messages)

———————————————————————————

I'll send progress shots through messages

All fics will be posted on AO3. while u are commissioning me,, it's still my work. I'll use it freely for the sake of examples

U'll only pay once I've finished ur commission. I don't want to take money knowing there's a likely hood I won't finish it

Once finished with ur commission,, tell me where ud like it to be sent

Please send images of ur characters,, tell me the genre,, and what exactly ud like to happen in the fic

[autisticwizardwritings]

Hiiii!!

I'm Leo, or Leon. This is my first account on here for writing, so I thought I'd do an introduction since I see everyone else doing them!!

I'm new to writing for characters that aren't just my own, but I do have some (keyword: SOME) experience with fanfiction and such! My pronouns are he/they, and I'm a transmasc minor.

I think I'm mainly going to upload oneshots and headcanons for Total Drama (I've seen up to All Stars so far, but I'll update this anytime I finish another season!) but I'll also write for a few other things if requested :] (all fics will be gender neutral unless gender is specified.)

Things I WILL write:

Total Drama (seasons 1-5)

Ninja Turtles (2012 or 2018, but I'm better at 2018.)

FNaF? Maybe? Depends on what it's about, I guess.

Gravity Falls

Lego Ninjago

In Space With Markiplier, and all his series like that.

Jacksepticeye egos!!! I might need a little time to get back into it but I'll write some if requested!

Maybe some character x character? Depends on who and what, but I'm willing to give it a shot!

Character x reader (both platonic and romantic)

General character headcanons

Fluffy fluffy fluffy!!! I LOVE fluff. It's so much fun to write

Comfort! Both ways! (but I'm better at reader being comforted)

Probably more stuff I can't think of right now.

Stuff I WON'T write. No exceptions.

Any sort of smut. lemon, lime, whatever it's called. Absolutely not.

No suicide. Bothers me quite a bit. A self-harm comfort/recovery fic? Maybe, depending on how strong it is, but no suicide. Especially if it's like. romanticized. Get out and never come back if you do that with something like that. What the fuck is wrong with you. (I have in fact seen people do that.)

Just.. nothing gross, y'know? Nothing illegal. "Basic DNI criteria stuff", some call it.

No abuse??????? I've seen multiple people ask others for that on other websites and I just. Why would you want to read about yourself or someone else in that situation..? I don't get it.

No pedophilia, incest, or anything of the sort. That much should be obvious.

Um. I can't think of anything else at the moment, but I'll add more if I remember.

Characters I'll (try) writing for:

(feel free to request characters that aren't on this list, this is just here to show who I understand more and will be able to write for better.)

Total Drama:

Basically all the Total Drama cast, but I'll probably be best at:

Mike and any of his alters <3

Dawn

Lindsay

Blaineley

Katie

Noah

Cody

Beth

Brick

mmaybee Courtney or Gwen? Still trying to understand their personalities more.

Gravity Falls:

Dipper

Stanford

Mable

Wendy

Lego Ninjago:

Jay

Zane

Morro

Cole

Kai

Nya

Lloyd

Any fandoms I didn't specify in this list means that I'm willing to try and write for any of the characters. You can request characters that aren't on this list, but these are just the ones I'll be better at. <3

[rensworddump]

welcome to ren’s writing blog <3

➥ 𝙢𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 ; 〔 r e n 〕

» this is my blog where i like to write when i have the motivation for it, and i hope you enjoy your stay here! my account is a safe space for anyone, including— but not limited to— those who are transgender, gay, neurodivergent, systems, and more. feel free to take a look at my main ( @kyrenn ) or if you like art check out ( @renrenditions ) my art blog!

p.s. while this account is for those who are 15+ to enjoy, i still ask that minors DNI with smut i’ve written. i know it’s probably a pointless request that a handful of you won’t listen to, but at least keep it to yourself as i will block you. this is for my comfort and your safety. smut will have a large MDNI message and a cut off so the writing itself is not visible.

➥ 𝙗𝙖𝙨𝙞𝙘 𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙤

✰ 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎 ; kyren / moth

✰ 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜 ; ren / puppy / tiny / mothy

✰ 𝚊𝚐𝚎 ; 21 years old

✰ 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 ; nonbinary, masc-leaning + xenogenders

✰ 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜 ; they / it + xenopronouns

✰ 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢 ; bisexual / biromantic / polyamorous

✰ 𝚎𝚡𝚝𝚛𝚊 ; i’ve been writing on wattpad ( which is here ) since i was in middle school, but keep in mind that my writing is better reflected in more recent uploads on there and things i post here.

➥ 𝙚𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙖 𝙞𝙣𝙛𝙤

✰ 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚜 ; fluff, smut, char x reader, horror(/gore?), char x char, char x oc

✰ 𝚏𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚜 ; soulmate AUs + second-chance romance

✰ 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 ; this is a list of experience as i’ll write most anything as long as it doesn’t go against my limits

creepypasta // Jeff the Killer, Laughing Jack, Ticci Toby

call of duty // Ghost, Soap

youtube // Jacksepticeye, PewDiePie, Markiplier (haven’t wrote for them in years, may be rusty)

as well as non-fandom related one shots

✰ 𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚜 ; besides not writing about the usual gross things (NFSW for underage chars, animals, etc.), i will not write…

- for complex AUs i don’t know well, such as ones with heavy lore/rules to do with the AU (once i learn them i’ll offer to take the request later!!)

- abusive relationships of any type. angst is cool, delicious in fact, but there are other ways to have angst without glorifying types of abuse.

- anything other than gore/torture for Offenderman. Offenderman simps please leave.

- family-esque (found family, actual family, etc.) oneshots as i don’t think i could do a good delivery with them and i’d rather not disappoint knowing where my weak spots are

- smut for Price (Call of Duty) for personal reasons.

- smut for those who are under 18 (if you don’t have an age listed, i trust you not to lie to me when i ask about this. if at anytime i feel like you’re not being honest about your age i will not do the request)

- smut for certain kinks as they make me uncomfortable

scat

watersports

vomit

AB/DL

CG/L and variants

AgeRe (this isn’t a kink, please stop using agere in smut)

will be updated as needed…

» thank you for stopping by <3 have a wonderful day and drink some water, friend. all my writing will go under the tag #renswords.txt

[kormenhq]

Fan Fiction Requests!

I am bored! Help me write stuff to post on Ao3!

Request Rules & Characters

Rules::

- DON’T JUDGE MY WRITING, if you don’t think i’m a good writer, that’s your opinion. I may not be the best writer but I am trying my best.

- I will write about any gender! If you do not specify, I will write it as gender neutral (I also write trans ftm reader (not mtf as I am not mtf)

- Want some polyamourus stuff? Go ahead and I ask! I am happy to write about it!

- Please no Teacher x student or anything of the sorts I don’t want to write illegal stuff.

- I write emotional/romantic/platonic relationships (this includes smut though that’s very rare for me to write, you can still ask if you would like though.)

- Hurt/Comfort fics are welcome and encouraged!! I put trigger warnings anywhere I think it is needed, so please be sure to read the warnings under each title/on each post.

- I have every right to disapprove or not take your request.

- I will NOT write characters being abusive whether it be physical, emotional or anything like that. (lying to fulfill a scheme doesn’t count), but I would be more than happy to write about them helping you get OUT of an abusive relationship.

-I only write for the characters not real people.

Characters I write for::

- Any Markiplier ego (I MEAN IT I LOVE THESE GUYS)

- Any Jacksepticeye ego (Love these guys as well)

- Loki (Marvel)

- Gillion Tidestrider (Just roll with it)

- Chip (Just roll with it)

- Jay Ferin (Just roll with it)

- Spider man/Peter parker

- Oliver Swift (Dialtown)

- Randy Jade (Dialtown)

- Karen Dunn (Dialtown)

- Norm (Dialtown)

- Phonegingi (Dialtown)

- Ranboo (DSMP)

- Slimecicle (DSMP)

- Jack Manifold (DSMP)

- Jschlatt (DSMP)

- Philza (DSMP)

- Quackity (DSMP)

- Tommy innit (DSMP)

- Wilbur soot (DSMP)

- Red Guy (DHMIS)

- Duck (DHMIS)

- Yellow Guy (DHMIS)

- Nagito (Danganronpa)

- Kokichi (Danganronpa)

- Any fanon Creepypasta (I will refuse canon (they are murderers)

- Janus (Sanders sides)

- Virgil (Sanders sides)

- Remus (Sanders sides)

- Roman (Sanders sides)

- Patton (Sanders sides)

- Logan (Sanders sides)

[detective-writes]

Introduction and (future) Masterpost!

Hello! My name is Rayx and I decided to revamp a dead sideblog to be something I wanted to try! Here you will find writing but it'll be from requests (either sent in the inbox or DMs)! I will have anon on in but it will be turned off if y'all don't behave.

What I will write, what fandoms I write for, and what I won't write for is under the cut!

Brief DNI: TERFs, H//rry P//tter fans, bigots, prosh//ppers,

Fandoms I'll write for:

Star Wars (The Clone Wars TV show, The OG trilogy, and the recent movies mostly. I have yet to watch the prequels and haven't finished other media.)

Sherlock (Doyle's, Elementary and BBC's mostly.)

Hitman 2016

Hannibal

Fablehaven

Lockwood & CO

Heavy Rain

Red Dead Redemption

Undertale (and any AUs that aren't NSFW)

Supernatural (I haven't watched the finale so please don't spoil anything)

Ace Attorney

Detroit Become Human

Venom (I haven't watched the second movie yet)

Legend of Zelda (I haven't played/watched Tears of the Kingdom)

My Hero Academia (I didn't watch all of it but I watched enough to get an understanding of characters)

Markiplier and Jacksepticeye Egos (is that still the term?)

AFK Arena

More to be added

Fandoms I might write for:

Danganronpa (I've only watched gameplay of THH though)

Attack on Titan

Death Note

Gravity Falls (I'm on the last season but haven't finished)

Rick and Morty

Scooby Doo

Love, Nikki

Slashers (it's under a 'maybe' because I'm not too confident in writing the slashers well but willing to try!)

Cookie Run

What I can write:

Character x Character

Character x Reader

Character Headcanons

Ship Headcanons

X Reader Headcanons

Hurt/Comfort

Fluff

Angst

AUs

Specific Tropes (enemies to lovers, "there's only one bed", etc)

What I won't write:

NSFW (I have a sideblog [ @detective4sideblog ] where I share my NSFW writing and do take requests. This is going to be a SFW blog.)

Inc//stous Pairings (*looks at SWs Clones in specific)

Adult Character x Underage Character

V//re

Over-the-top violence

Anything relating to self harm

Abusive Relationships (even if it's on par for the pairing, I do not feel comfortable writing that)

Ships I Will Write:

Note: Feel free to ask about any I did not list!

Star Wars:

Codywan (Obi Wan/Cody)

Rexwalker (Anakin/Rex)

Padtine (Satine/Padmé)

Obitine (Satine/Obi Wan)

Anakin/Rex/Padmé

Obi Wan/Satine/Cody

Ploit (Plo Koon/Kit Fisto)

Skysolo (Han Solo/Luke Skywalker)

Finpoe (Poe/Finn)

Poe/Rey/Finn

Most other ships you can think of from SWs, feel free to shoot an ask to make sure!

Sherlock:

Mormor (Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty)

Johniarty (John Watson/Jim Moriarty)

Johnastian (John Watson/Sebastian Moran)

Mollrene (Irene Adler/Molly Hooper)

Hooperan (Sebastian Moran/Molly Hooper)

Specifically Victorian Johnlock (John Watson/Sherlock Holmes)

I think that covers everything, though there's others but regardless.

Hitman:

Dianseven (Agent 47/Diana Burnwood)

Hannibal:

Hannigram (Hannibal Lector/Will Graham)

I don't know any other Hannibal ships but feel free to inform me, I'll gladly write for 'em :)

Lockwood & CO:

Locklyle (Anthony Lockwood/Lucy Carlyle)

George/Lucy/Lockwood (is this a ship? Either way, listing it)

Heavy Rain

Jars (Norman Jayden/Ethan Mars)

I might write for Norman/Blake if I like the prompt enough but they aren't my cup of tea. Same goes for Ethan/Madison.

Ethan/Grace (*shrugs*)

RDR

Vandermatthews (Dutch Van Der Linde/Hosea Matthews)

Arthur Morgan/Kiran Duffy (I can't remember their ship name atm)

Charles/Arthur Morgan (I can't remember the shipname again)

Most other pairings you can think of that don't break my "won't write" list :)

Undertale

Sansby (Sans/Grillby)

Burger Guy/Nice Cream Guy

Papyton (Papyrus/Mettaton)

Undyne/Alphys

Soriel (Sans/Toriel)

SPN

Destiel (Castiel/Dean Winchester)

Sabriel (Gabriel/Sam Winchester)

Bobby/Crowley

Like I said, I haven't watched the finale...or much past season 5 or 6 so...yeah.

Ace Attorney

Wrightworth (Phoenix Wright/Miles Edgeworth)

Detective Gumshoe/Phoenix Wright

Maya Fey/Franziska von Karma

Larry Butz/Phoenix Wright

DBH

Reed900 (Gavin Reed/RK-900)

Hankcon (Hank Anderson/Connor)

Markus/Simon

North/Markus

North/Markus/Simon

Venom

The obvious canon Venom/Eddie Brock

LoZ

Zelink (Zelda/Link)

Sidlink (Prince Sidon/Link)

Mipha/Link

Mipha/Zelda

Link/Sheik

Midlink (Midna/Link)

Midna/Zelda

MHA

Honestly anything BUT Midoriya/Bakugo.

Egos

Darkstache (Wilford Warfstache/Darkiplier)

Antiaverage (Antisepticeye/Chase Brody)

Anti/Marvin the Magnificent

Chase Brody/Marvin

Schneeplbro (Doctor Schneeplestein/Chase Brody)

Googleplier/Chase Brody

There's more but I'm forgetting them 😭

AFK Arena

Thane/Baden

Treznor/Nevanthi

Idk any other ships so feel free to request

Masterpost:

Will be updated in the future :)

[medicinalkiwis]

Hello there, medicinalkiwis here!

My name is Kiwi, I mostly occasionally reblog random stuff relating to writing, gaming, or art, and I am a writer who constantly has ideas mucking about in my head. I'm afraid I haven't ever actually finished anything, though I do have several ideas bouncing around in my head that I plan to actually work on.

I do not approve of my writing to be used to train AI. Thank you.

I consider myself part of many "fandoms" including (primarily) several different anime such as Haikyuu, My Hero Academia, and ; the popular tv show Supernatural; video games like Stardew Valley, Baldur's Gate 3, and Skyrim; and certain YouTubers such as Markiplier, Sam and Colby, and YuuriVoice; and many others. However, I should make it clear that I simply watch the anime in particular and do not keep up with fandom drama that I only hear about much later.

Masterlist:

*Blank and ageless blogs will be blocked.*

~

I am willing to take questions relating to what I write or just general questions about anything, as well as requests for one shots or series that anyone wants to see. Please refer to the list under the cut to understand the things I will and will not write for. Feel free to let me know if there's something you're interested in that is not on the list!

~

Asks will be tagged as #askkiwi and #kiwianswers

Finished works (such as one shots) will be tagged as #kiwicontent

Parts in a series will be tagged under the name of the series, the number of which part it is following the name of the series, and as #kiwiseries

Requests will be tagged as #kiwirequests and under the name of the person who made the request, or under #anonrequest if the person was anonymous or wanted to be referred to as such

Drabbles will be tagged as #kiwidrabbles

Posts not related to asks, current works, etc. will be tagged as #kiwirambles

Posts related to asks, current works, etc. will be tagged #kiwiinfo

Reblogs will not be given a specific tag, but may be tagged with my thoughts on whatever is reblogged

~

Below the cut will be a list of things I will and will not write when taking requests. If you are unsure about something or have questions, feel free to ask!

Warning: Darker themes referenced below the cut. More may be added to each list later on.

"☆" means it is something I will write. "×" means it is something I will not.

~

☆ Fluff

☆ Angst

☆ Smut (kinks must be discussed please)

☆ Hurt/comfort

☆ Self inserts

☆ Reader inserts

☆ Oc x canon

☆ Oc x oc

☆ Canon x canon

☆ Friends to lovers

☆ Strangers to lovers

☆ Enemies to lovers, so long as it doesn't include themes from the "no" list

☆ Some mental health related content

☆ Referenced past DV

☆ Aftercare

☆ Omegaverse

☆ Some humanoid non-humans (e.g. shifters such as werewolves and dragons, Khajiit, Argonians, Driinkiin race mod for Skyrim, certain aliens)

~

× Excessive blood/gore/violence

× Currently abusive relationships or DV

× Horror

× Kinks related to what goes into a toilet

× Incest/stepcest

× Smut with underage or loli characters or

× Dubcon/noncon

× Mindbreak

× Forcing a character to do something they don't want to, i.e. rape

× Furries or bestiality

× Aliens like the necromorphs or zenomorphs (not sure if I spelled that right lol

[fatallyfalling]

Bitter Water 0.07 ~ ♆

“ You were nothing like him. You were more. And maybe that scared him a little. “

{{ Finnick Odair x Reader }}

{{ previous part || next part }} {{ masterlist }}

warnings: typical Hunger Games violence/trauma/themes, language, blood, injury, ptsd, forced prostitution, enemies to lovers, slow burn, death, nightmares, unintentional self injury, alcohol, insinuation of suicidal thoughts, mention of aphrodisiac abuse, sexual abuse, etc

{{ word count }} 8.2K

{{ outfits }}

{{ prompt }} Six months was never going to be long enough. You would have sooner dug your heels into the earth and bared your teeth than go back - but you have to keep them safe. You only ever wanted to keep them safe….. in the end you never could…

{{ a/n }} Markiplier voice: “Hi - It’s me! I’m not dead! Which is an awful surprise considering how many people wrote my obituary yesterday! PREEMPTIVELY! In case i did die! But i didn’t! so suck on that!” anyhoo - This is LONG but also get ready to cry <3

p.s.- I promise reader isn’t a crybaby they’re just traumatized 😭 I also apologize if this is a bit scattered, it’s been in the works for over three months now but i swear you’ll get more consistency from reader here on out akkfkskdkskd The ending is also a tad rushed i just REALLY wanna get into them being older so I can write with more substance IM SORRYYYY

They’re alive.

Two words. Three syllables.

This mantra kept you moving. You’ve been home for little more than a month, but the treacherous plague of the arena had left its permanent reminders engraved on your skin. Still, you were too often dragged back by those same claws, kicking and screaming, under the blanket of night to relive the horrors of the 67th annual Hunger Games, only to awaken with bitter copper coating your tongue and a twisted scream retching from your throat. You’d already lost count of how often your episodes upset Dorian and Callan. They were too young to understand the poltergeists that haunted your nightmares. The poor boys had even started running to your father on wobbly legs dragged down by sleep to rouse the gruff man, bleary eyes the size of saucers, as your cries echoed through the too-big house. It sputtered that vital flame still fighting to ignite inside your chest to see them cry because of you.

You hated yourself for it.

Marjorie had hobbled up the three steps to your porch on creaking knees, breathless and panting as your Father led her into the finely furnished house the first night the terrors returned. He hadn't even bothered for his brown leather duster to cover the mangled remains of his dominant arm. Sweat pooled on Marjorie’s brow as the elder gripped her threadbare shawl tighter around her shoulders. The panic on your Father's face was all she'd needed to follow the man home in the middle of the night. Your screams met the elder's ears first. Then Dorian and Callan came bounding out of the parlor to meet her with fearful eyes and tight hugs. "Please, help them, Nana!" The twins blubbered between tears. An expression heavy enough to resemble grief painted your Father's features as Marjorie connected her gaze to his.

"I'll see what I can do."

The unfortunate reality was that there wasn't much that could be done. Marjorie had even enlisted Mags’ help in deciphering a possible treatment plan for the traumatic stress that seized your mind, but any leads ended up inconclusive. A specially brewed tonic of chamomile and lavender before bed at least aided in closing your eyes to combat the insomnia you'd developed, but little could be done to keep you asleep. You had daily sessions with Mags to try and sort through the inner turmoil. But progress was slow going, and you rarely made it past recounting the first few weeks of life in the arena before tears bubbled and panic took over your chest, squeezing so tightly you feared suffocation. Marjorie suggested seeking a higher level of care for your condition, but Mags signaled things might only get worse for you to be removed from your loved ones again so soon. You'd agreed with your mentor. As harrowing as your experiences had been, all that mattered to you were the twins smiling faces and the warmth in their embraces, or the idle chatter over an evening meal about their latest school projects or primary school gossip. The normalcy helped in its own way.

Your father once tried to coax you into going to a local medical clinic on one of your better days. "It's just a check-up." He'd claimed. But after angry red scratches peppered his one good arm, and you were huddled in a corner far from the door like a wild animal set to pounce, the idea was left to rot amongst other failed attempts to heal your internal wounds.

As much as you hated to admit it, your episodes had only worsened since being back.

There were four things you'd learned to despise since surviving The Games.

1. Water

2. Closed Spaces

3. Finnick Odair

4. President Coriolanus Snow

Your aversion to water still clamped around your throat like a vice. But that natural, sometimes visceral, longing for the sea was a heavy weight in your chest. Water still brought painful memories to the front of your mind, with soap suds burning your eyes in the shower between ferocious blinks, but the salty spray of coastal air was too enticing to turn from. You still found yourself sneaking away from Victor’s Village in the wee hours of morning to the brine scented sands down a tall-grassed hill behind your house. Unlike your home, tucked away in a more secluded, woodland, part of town, the Village was right along the coast outside the edge of the port. You could see the lit up pier and ship docks down the shoreline in murky shadows over the horizon, occasionally illuminated by the ever turning lighthouse nestled amongst the cliffs younglings favored to dive from.

You’d ventured up to the cliffs a handful of times since returning to District 4. The wind was wild and whipped your hair this way and that with howling gusts up the face of the rocky mountain. Summer was nearing the end of its course, with crisper air wafting in from the ocean that sent shivers up your spine, and the hair on your arms and the nape of your neck to stand on end. You’d wander up at night, cloaked in shadow with whisps of moonlight curling over the planes of your face and arms. If anyone below witnessed the picture of your gauzy night clothes billowing in the wind amongst the shadows passing your face under moonlit clouds, they’d think they saw an apparition. One of the local myths, told only in hushed voices in warm taverns by rosy-cheeked, ale scented, fisherman out of Peace Keeper's earshot. You didn’t dare try to jump. However tempting the darkest reaches of your mind made the caress of its fingertips along the veil of your sanity, pawing the sheer curtain as if asking permission to flood your thoughts and set that roaring inferno in your chest loose, you stayed firm on the damp earth.

You wouldn’t do that to your family.

Days were easier than nights at least. You favored the large, second story bay windows of the grey dappled house, soaking up warmth from the sun and your personally home brewed tea. Your father had tried to replicate your recipes while you’d been away but Dorian and Callan loved to remind the poor elder that yours still tasted sweeter. Another thing the twins had missed in your absence. You’d taken it upon yourself to teach the younglings the simple brew in perfect replication, earning giggles of sheer joy from the boys and an eye roll from your bemused Father. You’d also begun a small collection of your personal recipes in a small leather bound journal gifted to you from your father to replace the old water damaged cards you used to keep the instructions on. Amongst freshly printing the terms you still tucked the old cards between the pages as keepsakes and tell of origin. You cherished the small book tremendously.

Cooking had also surprisingly became rather cathartic for you in a way. Doing something with your hands helped ease the nervous habit that created burning red crescents in your palms, especially when it came to kneading dough or fixing herbs to garnish meals. It had been an adjustment to fix more filling meals that made enough if not more for your small family. Instead of saving every scrap, or even skipping your own helping to allow the twins seconds, there was enough to feed everyone and then some for once.

The wealth that came with winning The Games was generous and easily enough to live well into the rest of your lives. But it also cast a heavy weight on your shoulders. Another permanent reminder of the spilt blood that coated your skin in phantom stickiness. Sometimes you wished nothing more than to be rid of the fortune, but the prospering health of your siblings always managed to chip away at the solid guilt cocooning your heart.

All you ever wanted was to provide for them and keep them safe.

Safe.

Three months have now passed since You’d arrived back in District 4.

Finnick Odair had kept his distance, if not attempting to avoid you entirely. Well - as much as he could with what shred of free will the boy had to spare. He was exhausted, and the knife that had carved out his bleeding heart from his chest had become a rudimentary ache. No matter how heavy the concealer his stylist’s applied was, dark circles and hangovers could only be hidden under playboy charm and pointy smirks for so long. Since Finnick’s announcement as a “Desirable” Victor four months prior, he’d felt the Capital collar and chain around his neck tighten and yank in whichever way Snow commanded with growing severity. Part of him was surprised there wasn’t bruising where the icy torque would have rested on his throat.

There was never a ‘day off’ for Finnick Odair. Not anymore. There was always a performance to be made, or an appearance at a party, or a sticky-fingered Capital elitist client spewing sultry filth in his ears that made the boy want to either be sick or run the lethal triple blade trident hanging in his bedroom through their gut several times.

The retched hunger of Capital elitist’s, heiresses, and whoever else was rich enough to pay the sharks prowling in shadowed corners of banquet halls or knew who to speak to in order to arrange an ‘evening’ with the ‘Prince of District 4’ was insatiable. Every minute detail of the Golden Boy’s daily life became scheduled, prepped, scrubbed, tested, ordered, dressed, touched, and pressed. There were no choices, no breaks, no compromises.

If Finnick Odair wasn’t perfect or spotlight ready for even a millisecond - people would talk. If Finnick wasn’t flirting or hanging on the arm of someone new every night they’d get bored. If there was no gossip, no allure to the honey-tanned playboy they’d lose interest and President Snow would bring down the iron fist poised mere inches over the carefully crafted safety net around Mags and the few people he dared hold higher than himself.

Cold water helped ease the pressure.

The freezing splash of droplets on his tanned skin was palpable. The opposite of sparks and flames which singed lapping, invisible burns through his veins and made setting himself ablaze more appealing than the possible friction of another persons touch for a thousand years. It was an expensive effort to not flinch away or recoil from groping hands. The most Finnick allowed himself under a mirror-practiced mask of feigned pleasure or pride was a minuscule flutter of muscle in his sharp jaw and the continuous picking at invisible lint from progressively more revealing tunics and netting.

Finnick didn’t want to think about what kind of scrap fabric or net he’d be forced to wear years down the line if the stylists were already pushing to show more skin on the Victor.

Scrubbing calloused palms down his mascara streaked cheeks, the taste of sea salt met his tongue. Poseidon’s waves had effectively washed the remaining remnants of gold luster from his neck and shoulders in the rolling shallows. Finnick took his time to savor a thorough inhale of the briney coast. He hadn’t bothered to venture back to his house in the Victor’s Village culdesac. He was lucky to have slipped away from the escorts Snow often ordered to be close by. Protecting the “merchandise”. Shades of navy and indigo painted the horizon with thin smears of pink where the endless sky met the waves.

The air was crisp, sending small puffs of white air into the atmosphere under tired breaths. Finnick had just barely returned from yet another unremarkable Capital function. He didn’t care that his luxurious trousers were now soaked to mid thigh in the frigid water, or that his fingertips had gone numb and pruned. He just wanted the memory of touch and the stupid damn gold dust gone.

“Damn it…” Finnick sighed. It was another exhausting effort to bite back the string of curses threatening to push through his teeth on pointed canines. To curse Snow, curse the Games, hell - curse all of Panem and the Capital for all he cared.

The boy let his sea-green gaze sweep across the coastline. Part of him wondered if snagging a boat from the docks and going off on his own would be worth it. Mags would never agree to it. Before the Games, Finnick would have accepted a quiet life as a fisherman, helping younglings and living off the daily catch.

But he wasn’t normal anymore. He wasn’t even a kid.

‘You’re just a kid.’

‘You’re both just kids.’

The memory pierced Finnick’s mind, drawing a crease between his brows and a wrinkle in his nose.

He wasn’t allowed to be a ‘kid’ anymore. He didn’t have a choice. Tearing his gaze from the sparkling lights of the bobbing sailboats sleeping in the far-off dock, Finnick’s gaze lifted to the spinning lighthouse on the cliffs. The weather stained roofing and salt eroded stones that made up the building left an eerie aura to the tower. Some of the older younglings (himself included) had spun ghost stories to scare the youngest kids around campfires on the dusty sands in mid summer.

He’d missed Summer.

The short cliffs were quiet much like the docks, a sleeping district soon to be awake in a matter of hours. There was a chilled breeze swaying the tall pine trees. Breathy smoke curled around the boy’s shoulders as he set himself moving. The frigid air and water had numbed his legs but he welcomed the cold. Late November didn’t freeze the coast but it sure as hell made things icy up here in the north. Wet sand sank and remolded under his leather boots. The boy had cast down his gaze towards the sand for only a moment in quiet contemplation before snapping back to the cliffs at the sound of a shrill cry.

“What the hell?”

Another sob ricocheted across the cliffs and swam over the shore through his eardrums. The sound was pained, and warrior instinct had his eyes scanning the cliffs over and over for its owner. Remembering he did in fact have legs, the boy put them to use, kicking up sprays of damp sand under heavy strides as he made a break for the curving paths that led to the summit. The specter of pale, gauzy fabric had been his only clue that someone was up there. Maybe he was an idiot for chasing danger, a fool for following the snapping thread in his chest like a second heartbeat. He’d remembered that scream as vividly as the day he’d witnessed you finish the Games.

His lungs started to burn halfway up as a haggard cough choked from his throat between ragged breaths. His calves barked in protest at the uneven terrain but he pushed himself harder. Already cycling through worst case scenarios the Victor had thrown caution to the wind well beforehand. Despite every fiber of his being screaming to stay away and forget. Forget the thread, forget the draw, forget the stupid hunger that made his fingertips twitch or the buzz in his ears get louder under your cold gaze.

He just had to get there. To you.

But why?

You were just another Victor. Just another cog in the grotesque clockwork of Snow’s empire. You were just like him.

You were nothing like him.

Maybe that was it.

You weren’t a career. You weren’t born and bred to kill. You weren’t him.

You were more.

And maybe that scared him a little.

Your name was a desperate prayer on Finnick’s tongue as he crashed onto the clearing he’d glimpsed your hazy form upon.

It was empty.

Maybe he was losing it a bit. Reckless paces that brought the boy peering over the edge on a tightened stomach that feared the possibility of what lie below dropped as sea green storms met empty rocks. You weren’t here. A vulgar curse huffed from his chest as damp hands fisted bronze waves as he paced around the empty clearing.

Maybe he was crazy.

But unbeknownst to the bronze-haired boy, your trembling form quickly retreating through the brush on bare feet that had the hemming of your nightclothes snag on stray twigs, growing caked in smears of mud by the second, said otherwise.

Six months passed too quickly.

The sun was a glowing smear between grey, puffy clouds. The weather had been dreary and damp for weeks now as winter set in. Maybe the sun had pushed past the clouds as a form of goodbye. A last touch of warmth before the metal tomb that stretched down the station platform before you swallowed you whole.

The Victory Tour was to begin in a matter of moments.

There was a cruel sense of comfort as you peered across the cobbled station at your family and the ever bustling Capital team featuring Thatcher Bellstone - your escort, and Hyacinth, your stylist from the Games, who was currently fussing with straightening jacket collars and lint rolling trousers.

Everyone had been dressed to the nines in typical Capital fashion. Callan and Dorian featured matching knit hats and handmade mittens, your Father bearing a new fur lined duster, and Mags had a cream colored muff to protect her aging hands that matched her coat.

And Finnick - God why was he even here?

His navy wool coat matched the emerald scarf hugging his throat in a neat knot. Black trousers and snow dusted dress shoes holding a casual stance as the boy’s bronze waves danced in the breeze. Your jaw set in annoyance. The two of you still hadn’t spoken, hadn’t interacted since the train ride six months ago. Vague glimpses of Bronze waves and liqueur coated chuckles had ventured through your cracked windows some nights but you could barely look at the fellow victor without wanting to punch him. The pleasure he seemed to take in being “Desirable” made your insides churn.

All cheshire smirks and no bite. That’s who Finnick Odair was. You’d stopped trying to decipher the hazy echoes of his cries that barely formed your name three months ago. How he’d even seen you on those cliffs that night was wild all on it’s own. Maybe you had imagined it - some half-baked, desperate, imaginary cry for help. Useless. Worthless.

He’d never care about you - maybe anyone - that way. It didn’t matter.

None of it mattered.

Adjusting the dappled grey coat Hyacinth had dressed you in to match the twin’s, you averted your eyes from the Victor just as sea green irises flashed in your direction. You were thankful he wouldn’t be coming with. Finnick would rejoin your ensemble once the tour made it back to District 4 in a few weeks, but until then you’d be Peacock free.

Your senses felt wired with electricity as cameras flashed, with your knuckles burning under the vice-like fists you’d balled at your sides. You didn’t want to go, but you didn’t have a choice. It was tradition for the Victor of every Games to take a tour across the twelve districts and speak to the families of fallen tributes. The idea made you sick. You hadn’t won anything. You’d only survived.

Dorian and Callan were blubbering like sea sponges against your chest as you bent down to grip them tight. “It’s just for a little while…” You murmured while breathing in the love in their identical hair. The words were meek and your breath hitched on the end of the sentence but you bit down on the hiccuping sob prodding your throat and squeezed the boys tighter.

You’d said similar words before entering a death match mere months ago.

“Shh.. it’s gonna be okay, there’s plenty of tea in the ice box. Just don’t stress out Pa okay? Do your chores and be good. I love you.” You murmured between pressed lips, pulling back to look the twins in the eye. The boys nodded vigorously, giving tiny smiles between tear stained faces and red button noses. “We’ll be SO good!” Callan chirped with a small salute.

“That’s my boys.” You rasped, pulling down both of their knit hats over their eyes before quickly standing just as cameras flashed and elated shrieks echoed across the stones from the boys. Your heart squeezed as scruff brushed your cheeks while your Father came to envelope you in a bear hug with his good arm.

“Be good kid, be good..”

“I will, I will…” You nodded back, squeezing the man just as tight.

“Come, Come! We need to keep on schedule!” Thatcher clapped their burnt sienna gloves twice, calling everyone’s attention and causing the warm embrace of your Father to disappear as he returned to the boys a few paces away. The twins were busy ogling Finnick. Ironically, despite your disdain for the Darling, they’d taken a steep interest in the older boy as some “cool kid” much like how they referred to popular younglings at school. It made your eye twitch sometimes, but Finnick wasn’t mean or short with them. If anything he was kind and caring. Gentle. It was weird, seeing Finnick be gentle with someone other than Mags.

You tried to brush off the rising warmth in your chest.

Mags had soon appeared beside your Father, and the two silently communicated in hushed whispers from the man with Mags waving off his worries with gentle nods and heart warming smiles. They no doubt were discussing how to handle your terrors and your ‘zero alcohol’ rule they’d been enforcing the past months. You were thankful they didn’t let you sink too far, but sometimes the itch for that familiar numbness and sway in your vision picked at your brain a bit too harshly.

“Right! We have a tight - tight! Schedule to follow now. Smile for the cameras and let us be on our way dear. You’ll be back before you know it!” Thatcher bellowed between a phlegmy cough. Rolling your eyes, you gave everyone one last hug before standing in front of the bronze-haired Victor while everyone else filed onto the train or off to the side.

“Peacock..”

“Still using names are we? Didn’t know you liked me that much~” Finnick all but purred, earning another eye roll from you. “Shut up. Just - don’t corrupt my siblings while i’m gone. I can barely handle one of you, I don’t need three Peacocks running around.” You huffed with a wave of your hand. Finnick chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest as his voice had all but deepened and matured further these past months. “Can’t say that’d be the worst thing, would it?” You felt the tips of your ears burn at the flirtatious tone in his voice and shoved his shoulder away before turning around to face the train.

“Goodbye, Odair.”

“Hey - just..”

You couldn’t help but stiffen as the boy turned you back to face him, a firm hand gently brushing your shoulder. The urge to punch him had your jaw setting all over again.

“Don’t sink. You’ll be back.” Finnick’s voice was soft, softer than you’d ever heard it and for a moment you felt as if a thread ran from your heart up to meet his fingertips on your arm. He was never gentle. Not like this. “Stop being weird, Peacock.” You shrugged his hand off your shoulder despite the burning you felt in your cheeks and swiftly turned and strode away.

You had to have imagined it. The softness in his eyes that made him look younger, more alive. The honey in his tone that matched something you’d only read about. There was no way.

None.

The metallic click of the train car doors closing managed to snap you out of your thoughts as you scrubbed a stray tear from your cheek. Hyacinth coming over to flit about a powdered brush to fix the small amount of cosmetics she’s applied to your skin earlier that afternoon. “It’s wonderful to see you again darling, absolutely wonderful.” The stylist chirps while brushing an airy kiss past each of your cheeks.

You feel a bit sick.

A lot sick - actually.

Time moves almost in slow motion for a moment as your knees buckle and next thing you know you’re on the floor hurling up the biscuit and pear jam you’d choked down that morning. Ringing starts in your ears and a shrill cry from Hyacinth has Thatcher and Mags bustling over to help as the room sways and your trembling hands become blurry behind tears.

You’d been caged all over again.

The tour took a little over two weeks.

Every day and different district you visited felt like an eternity. You’d barely been able to keep anything down as the haunted faces of fallen Tributes and their families plagued every waking thought. Hyacinth continued applying increasingly heavier cosmetics to try and conceal your pain. Your facial features had become gaunt from the retching with deep smudges of purple making homes beneath your dull eyes. You couldn’t stand looking out at the families of people you had or hadn’t killed and having the audacity to apologize and read a flimsy notecard scrawled in neat cursive by Thatcher expressing that their deaths somehow meant something. You’d been verbally assaulted by crowd members gathered in the District’s Judicial Complexes more times than you cared to count.

Liar.

Murderer.

Cheat.

Thief.

The colorful names they called you felt like repeated blows to the gut. And they somehow knew exactly where to hit. Part of you wondered how Finnick had done this. How Mags had done this. How any Victor of the Games had done this. You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t handle any of this.

“I-I can’t… I can’t Mags…” You’d begged and pleaded with your mentor to let you not go on stage. Begged her to not make you face another grieving family while you stood there alive like some prize winning salmon. It didn’t matter how much you’d survived you were still a coward. You didn’t deserve to be here.

Coward.

You’d been a coward to hide. It didn’t matter that you’d survived, you’d still killed and fought your way to the end of the 67th Games. You were everything those hecklers claimed you to be and worse and you knew it. Mags gripped your shoulders tight and forced your eyes to meet hers. Her stare alone told you everything you needed to know before she wrapped you in her thin arms and squeezed tight. You didn’t have a choice in this. You understood she’d have done everything and anything to keep you from going out there if she could but she couldn’t.

By the time the tour reached District 7 you’d gone numb.

“Panem thanks your tributes for their bravery. A-and I thank… th-thank them for their sacrifice…” You stammered on the sentence you’d read six times now. You’d continued to stumble through it for the past six districts you’d been forced to speak in front of. A bottle hits the front edge of the stage with a shattering crash, and angered shouts rouse from the crowd as Peacekeepers force themselves forward in an ordered line, batons shooting from holsters and sharp-shooter rifles strapped across their chests. Your eyes squeeze shut as white gloves grip your under arms and force you away. The speech remains unfinished.

Heavy wooden doors slam behind you and gentle hands grip your face as your mouth contorts to an even deeper frown. The owners fingers are soft, but a tinge cold. Mags. Your eyelids crack and the flimsy, wrinkled notecard in your hands falls to the floor as you crumple into the elders arms. The embrace is short as Thatcher comes up to usher your team to the train as shouting starts to echo through the thick doors behind you.

Coward.

“Best we be on our way. Things seem to be getting a bit out of sorts here.” Thatcher chirps, but their face is solemn as your eyes meet. “Come now Dear,” They sigh. Your only reply is a meek nod. Hyacinth provides a small handkerchief to wipe your eyes and the mechanical maneuvers of the Capital train greet your party as the machine lurches into motion minutes later. ‘Just a few more days…’ You try to remind yourself as Mags helps guide you to the observatory car. You didn’t need the physical support but welcomed it as the two of you found places to curl up on the large, curved sofa. The seats were as plush as you’d remembered.

You’d managed to spend most of your down time here. The scents of damp earth and various florals were comforting. Except the stark-white roses, which had been removed from the various coffee tables to one corner of the room. You tried not to look at them. Your mentor laid a gentle hand to your knee as you curled up to peer out the window. Buildings passed and turned into tall trees, citizens working the lumber were only spotty blurs amongst the rush of the train. “It’s hard to keep doing this over and over Mags…” You sigh, sparing a glance to the elder before continuing. “It’s almost like reliving the arena over and over…” A small squeeze to your knee was enough to turn your attention from the window.

Mags’ eyes seemed far away. Although she maintained eye contact with you, you could tell she was somewhere else. Revisiting the countless tributes she’d mentored in the past no doubt. Her small smile didn’t meet her eyes like it normally did. A few hand gestures from the woman was enough to convey what a part of you was itching to ask.

“It never gets easier. Only tolerable.” You echoed. Mags nods, and your knee receives another small squeeze. Your response is a small hum, moving a hand to cover hers as your fingers gently interlace. You’d had quite enough of the tears and the pains overwhelming your thoughts. The past half a year had been harrowing enough. Maybe it was time to take something back from Snow. From the Capital. From the Games. From all of Panem. A muscle in your jaw tenses before you speak, “I-I want to get better.. learn to tolerate it.” You mutter.

“I’m sick of being useless. Of sitting, and doing nothing. I don’t want to show the Capital that they hold power over me. That they’ve hurt me. They’ve seen enough of my heart, it’s time they see something else.”

An echo of words from the train platform almost a week ago ebb their way to the forefront of your mind.

“Don’t sink.”

You wouldn’t sink. Not anymore.

A twinkle of hope appears in Mags’ eyes as spiteful determination sparks in yours. That flame in your chest sparking back to life with a newfound vigor. You’d be better. You had to be.

You will not die. You will survive. And you will float - not sink.

You don’t stutter through anymore speeches from them on. You wouldn’t let them see that they got to you. Even if you broke behind closed doors, hiccuping sobs on the onyx tile of your bathroom floor, you wouldn’t dare let anyone else see it from now on.

Coward.

Arriving back to District 4 was a monumental relief, even if it was only for a day. The twins were overjoyed, forgetting a certain Bronze-haired boy’s existence the moment you stepped onto the cobblestone platform. Your nickname is a shriek behind elated laughter as you kneel to embrace the boys.

“Sheesh, what have they been feeding you boys? You’ve gotten taller and it’s only been a week!” You quip behind a coy smile. Dorian simply shakes his head and clings to your arm while correcting you that it’s been longer than seven days while Callan hollers a retort saying you’re lying. “Nuh uh! We’re just the same!”

You’re dressed in the same dappled grey coat with the edition of a sage colored scarf as breathy puffs of white air curl through your conversations.

“Uncorrupted just as you ordered.” Finnick quips with a dramatic wave of his hand and a slight bow as he approaches. Your eyes roll in annoyance but you can’t help the slight pull at the corners of your mouth. “My hero,” you deadpan as you rise, picking up Dorian and setting him on your hip. Finnick is dressed much the same as when you last saw him, though his bronze waves are more tousled than usual. His scarf is tied tighter around his throat, but you still catch the tinge of red and purple smears under his jawline. A tightness seizes your chest as Finnick seems to notice your stare and adjusts the knitted material.

“It’s nothing.” The boy claims, but a crease draws his brows in, and his tanned fingers pick a piece of invisible lint from the lapel of his navy coat. “Hm,” You hum in response, averting your own gaze back down to the twins as you feel an awkwardness rise in the air. You clear your throat while scrunching your nose and wetting your lips a moment before moving to say hello to your Father. Finnick remains rooted to his spot, but you can sense the Darling’s eyes lingering on your form as you retreat.

The rest of your visit to District 4 runs smoothly. There isn't much of a speech to be given, rather a small banquet is held in your honor instead. You dread parties, and a painful twist in your stomach squeezes as you sit through the meal that night under the beaming lights of the Judicial Complex auditorium making your head start to spin. What a part of you wouldn't give for one of the many glasses of champagne floating around, but based on the daggers Mags sends your way each time you reach for one of the crystal glasses has you quickly retreating and second-guessing your decisions. Finnick is somehow glued to your side much to your dismay. The boy looks almost like a prince. His pine-colored poet's tunic is cut low, almost to his navel, with black, slim-fit trousers with knee-high laced boots to match with a shimmer of iridescent luster sprinkled across his clavicle and the highest points of his cheeks. The miniature rendition of his famous trident rests around his neck again as well. Part of you wonders if Hyacinth and the boy's stylist were in cahoots behind the scenes as your equally pine-colored ensemble matches the elegance of Finnick's outfit a bit too well. You weren't fond of form-fitted clothing but had become rather desensitized to the matter following Hyacinth's frequent choices to show off your figure. Your garment tonight was a form-fitted silk gown that featured a high slit up your left thigh and an open back. The sleeves were off the shoulder and flowed in a balloon-like fashion before gathering once more at your wrists. Inky, strapped shoes with a short heel could be glimpsed at your feet as well. part of you wondered if Finnick had caught on to the whole ordeal but by the carefree, cheshire smirk on his rosy lips you couldn't tell.

Finnick had caught on the moment you'd stepped into the auditorium.

It felt as if he’d been set on fire. Sparks shot like lightning up his arms and across his chest as he couldn’t help drinking you in from across the room. That excruciatingly tight thread in his chest started to fray.

Finnick tried not to think about it.

He couldn't. He shouldn't.

'Shit...'

The closeness as you sat beside Finnick absentmindedly picking at your plate, not even a foot away had the boy so overwhelmed he couldn't think, only sparing a glance your way every now and then while trying to casually drape himself over his chair. The effort to keep a smirk on his face and a carefree aura was suffocating. What the hell was wrong with him? You’d sat next to or across from one another plenty of times. He'd seen you dressed up like this plenty of times.

Okay - maybe it had only been on screens but that was besides the point.

He had to get a grip. He'd already heard the rumors of there being something between the two of you from the Games starting to stir again amongst the elites as the end-of-tour banquet in the Capital district edged closer in the coming days. You didn't need more to stress over. especially not regarding him. You may have been able to keep a mask of chemical calm when dealing with everyone around you but he could see the shadows under your eyes and the limpness in your hair. Your hands still trembled, and your lower lip remained puffy from biting it. He'd learned your anxious habits from quiet observation. He had plenty of his own tells he was well aware of himself.

Finnick silently cursed himself again.

You were lucky enough to sleep in your own bed for the night, though Dorian and Callan insisted on joining you as if they were attention-deprived puppies. You welcomed their embraces as they nestled close, but knew you'd end up in a corner of the mattress without any blanket to keep warm as the boys occupied the majority of the bed space available. But you didn't mind. Nor did you want to leave them again so soon. But the tour had to be finished. You rested easier that night than you had in weeks, despite the bed-hogging of your siblings.

The morning was met with a quiet breakfast and another teary-eyed goodbye. Then it was back on the train and on to the final three districts. Homes of the Career Tributes.

This time around, Finnick had joined your party of escorts for the last leg of your journey. He claimed he had some occupations to fill and favors to uphold but didn't offer more explanation than that. He'd also opted for wearing higher-necked shirts and sweaters around the train, which you had found unusual compared to his normal attire, but didn't bother to question. It was his business and therefore you needn't bother with it. Pretty Peacocks had Pretty Peacock things to do, you supposed.

The remaining districts were as troublesome as the last eight. District 2 was especially harsh, considering the blade you'd driven through the chest of their male tribute in the final moments of the Games. The district of luxury held nothing back as the family spewed filth your way for your cowardness in killing their son. You couldn't manage to keep your dinner down that night. You didn't stay in your personal quarters either, opting to remain in the Observatory car instead.

You hadn't missed the dazzling limelight of the Capital district.

You especially hadn't missed the pawing hands of the elite citizens.

The gala outside of President Snow's mansion was beyond anything you'd seen previously. To say the vibrant lights and overstuffed buffet tables were overwhelming would be an understatement. They were downright outrageous. Between the high-pitched caws of heiresses and the phlegmy coughs and sticky fingers of brokers and other top-class citizens and staff, you felt your skin practically buzzing from the overstimulation. You wanted nothing more than to slip away or melt into the floor. Peacekeepers lined every alcove and doorway on guard. But there wasn't any concern for the groping hands or lingering touches as you tried your best to squeeze through the crowd. Thatcher had disappeared almost instantaneously, swallowed up by the sea of brightly dressed vultures. You felt your breath grow hyper as your eyes darted around in search of anyone to hold onto and ground yourself. Finnick could be spotted across the swell of dancers in the hall hanging on the arm of two squawking elitists. The Darling was dusted in a similar luster you'd seen at the banquet in District 4, except in much more excess as the boy wore an organza tunic the color of his eyes that left little to be imagined. His trousers were bone white with chestnut dress shows. The Darling was equally adorned in dainty, golden chains as he was glitter and smudged lipstick. Your own cheeks burned at the blatant display.

What on earth was he doing??

Your eyes locked for a mere second, your bewildered gaze pleading, if not begging but the victor paid you no mind as pointed, too-white canines flashed in scandalous conversation with the people around him. You were utterly stranded.

Someone gripped your backside suddenly, earning a yelp and the urge to whip back and punch but instead, you whirl, backing straight into someone's shoulder. Amid the swirling music and voices, you felt tears spring to your eyes, threatening to spill as a gloved hand catches your waist and you're steadied on your feet. Your deep aqua gown whispers on the tiled floor (yes, another secret match to finnick's ensemble) and you're sputtering apologies quicker than you can think. You had to get out of here.

"It's quite alright Dear. A bit overwhelmed are we?"

"I- uhm... I'm so sorry, s-sir." You stutter as you behold the man standing before you. Snow white hair slicked back, with a neatly groomed beard and stark white suit has you gulping down the lump forming in your throat.

President Coriolanus Snow is standing in front of you.

You wish nothing more than to be shot dead right then and there. The creator of your horrors, of the hardships across the districts and the killing games children are forced to play in, was standing in front of you with his hand on your waist. A wolf in sheep's clothing. The devil himself.

A string of colorful profanities cycles through your mind as you're only able to blink in horror and feigned surprise. Any confidence or spite you thought you might have leeches from your mind as your skin blanches.

"I've been meaning to have a word with you. You did quite well in the Games this season, and have caught the interest of a few...clients, of mine. Not to mention the Mockingjays flittering about with rumors of a certain Darling, hm?" The President's tone is hollow. His steeled gaze bores into your own and you can't form the words to reply before the gloved hand at your waist slides up your torso and over to the back of your arm as the older man begins to guide you. The crowd instantly parts and conversations nearby halt, obviously eavesdropping on what the President of Panem has to say.

"Let us move away from prying ears. Gossip is a terrible thing." The President drawls as he pats your elbow. You swallow hard with a meek nod, sucking your lower lip between your teeth and feeling the taste of copper coat your tongue. You bit too hard.

No words are exchanged between the two of you as you pass a very unbothered Finnick, his cheeks and honey-tanned skin are flushed as his overly dilated pupils pay you no heed. Something was wrong. very wrong. The Darling reeked of champagne, mint, and something you couldn't place, and strong. The heiresses on his arms were speaking in hushed, sultry tones, and were tugging at his barely-there tunic. The boy wasn't fighting back. Your stomach drops to your toes as you can only sense the growing fear coming from the crease between his brows and the muscle fluttering in his jaw.

The greenhouse the President brings you to has bile rising to your throat. Every pot, bed, soil flat, and more was covered in white roses. The sickly sweet scent had your skin crawling and nose scrunching, despite the tang of fear on your tongue and the gnawing pressure squeezing your chest. Snow gestures for you to sit on a stone bench near a small fountain. The water gurgles as it threatens to overflow the basin it waters. Snow takes his place beside you, a gentle twist in his torso that sends whispers of his blazer over his silk shirt.

"You put on quite a show in the Arena my Dear. Playing soft and subtle but outlasting the wolves and striking like an asp in the end. You caused quite a stir amongst high-profile viewers. There have been whispers of intrigue about you. Many people covet a doe amongst a pack of wolves. Soft and sweet - like a lily among a field of thorned roses. Something to control," Snow begins. You feel miniscule compared to the powerhouse of a man beside you. You worry he can scent the fear seeping into your bones as you clasp your hands together like a vice to hide the trembling.

"I-I'm sorry. I don't quite follow."

Snow chuckles. Chuckles. The sound makes you wish to crawl out of your skin.

" Certain individuals feed on control. On submission. Complete - submission." The President's eyes grow dark and feel yourself shifting away, though the attempt is futile on the small bench.

"I'm saying people want you. You're - Desirable."

Desirable.

You'd heard the word only in hushed whispers less than a handful of times. Mainly when Finnick was involved. This couldn't be good. An awful nausea settles in your stomach as the President makes his proposal.

"Predators enjoy the hunt of their prey. The thrill of the hunt. They want a new Desirable Victor. Yes, they've had their shiny new Princeling to enjoy and ravish. Mr. Odair, if I'm not mistaken. But with your victory and spectacular display, they crave more. So I'm offering this," The mention of Finnick's status holds a venom that solidifies the sickness in your gut. If you could run far, far away right now, you would. And you'd sure as hell hunt down the vipers coiled around Finnick and take him with you.

"Become Desirable - or those fetching siblings of yours, and dear old Father, and everyone you hold dear, will be punished. Severely. What are their names? Dorian? Callan?" The President squints his eyes, crow's feet becoming pronounced around the corners of his eyes as your throat goes dry. Horror shoots through you as your heart all but shatters into a million pieces.

"Maybe I should throw in your dear Peacock, hm? The Capital would adore a star-crossed scandal. Trading their prince for a heartbroken princess?"

"P-please..." You murmur, the word barely audible.

"There's no room for discussion here. They'll be dead by morning if you don't accept. For the greater good of Panem and the strength of the Games, Dear."

Your vision blurs as defeat slashes your chest. Your limbs feel like jelly as you feel blood drip down your chin from the bite on your lip and a dampness coats your cheeks.

"Let them live..." You squeak.

Shame filters through the horror and disgust you feel. But you have to keep them safe. You'd lay down your own life sooner than any of theirs. Always.

A white glove smudges the blood from your chin, a crimson stain coating the President's glove as he accepts your agreement and gestures for you to stand. You do.

"Smile for the cameras Dear, tonight will be grand."

You can't bring your lips to move. Another tear slides down your face.

President Snow wipes the stray tear from your blanched cheek as a vile grin adds to the wrinkles on his face. You say nothing as the Predator guides you away from the greenhouse and up to the balcony overlooking the party. The President clears his throat and the room falls silent.

Finnick is nowhere to be seen through the crowd and panic surges through your chest.

"My dear citizens of the Capital, and all of Panem. I have a very special announcement to make this evening. As you know, we are gathered here tonight in honor of the Victor of our 67th Annual Hunger Games. " Snow's voice booms over the gala. Your insides churn as he continues to announce the sentence to seal your fate. You'd lost an even bigger game than you thought imaginable. You can’t find Finnick anywhere. A part of you wants to scream.

"May I present to you my dearest subjects, the doe who won against all odds. They prey who vanquished the beasts. Your new desirable," Snow bellows your name with a venom that makes you fear vomiting right then and there. You weren't a Victor, you weren't a survivor, you weren't even considered a human anymore. You were a product. You were a doe staring down the maw of a starving wolf.

You were nothing.

Mechanical shutters fill your ears as flashes blind your vision. You’re supposed to be smiling. Things will get worse if you don’t smile. But all you can feel is the bile rising in your throat and your leaden tongue refusing to move. The sickly scent of roses invades your senses as gloved hands pat your trembling ones that grip the President’s suit jacket like a vice. You don’t dare move an inch.

There are two things you've learned to despise since surviving The Games.

1. Liars

2. President Coriolanus Snow

{{ taglist }}

@emerald-09 @reader-bookling123 @finnickodaddy @thehairington86 @darlingsoulbeautifulthoughts @avoxrising @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @whens-naptime @violettbae @the-lonely-abyss @secretsicanthideanymore @nexxus13 @takanparadiae @yourdailymemedelivery @wowzabowza69 @c4ttheart @lizzo-del-jaileraka @inatimate-icarus @thestrals-and-firewiskey @honethatty12 @goldencolorrock @cherrsnut

[running-on-a-broken-record]

What I Will Write

Generally, I focus on the MatPat egos (The Detective, MadPat, Mack, WarfPat, and DarkPat) but if you send in requests for any Markiplier egos or NWTB (Nightmare & Phantom) egos, I will answer those too!!

Most all tropes, actually. Enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, sunshine x grumpy, etc. Mostly everything!

I am completely up to write for things like self harm, prior sexual assault (not by the characters but by another person), and mental health

If you ever aren’t sure if I will or won’t write something, please ask!

What I Won’t Write

Downright smut. Some mild NSFW stuff is fine but I am asexual and not interested in writing anything big

Also, no pregnancy (sorry) because I’ve never experienced it and I know I won’t be able to write it accurately

People might get mad at me for this, but I don’t write anything regarding yandere or abuse or anything else that is violent against the reader (Abuse comfort asks, however, are accepted)

[i-guess-im-a-fanfic-writer-now]

Markiplier x Reader

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of parental abuse and abuse from family in general (physical, sexual, emotional), self harm (cutting), trauma stuff. If you’ll be triggered by reading this, don’t read it, or at the very least be really careful. Skip the self harm parts if you need to. Take care of yourself, eh?

I wrote this for myself because I needed this shit, and this is my first time ever writing a fanfic. Tell me if there’s stuff I can do better when writing?

Here we go

The last month had been going relatively well. You were finally living away from your relatives, and had moved in with your best friend, Mark. He was recording videos every day, editing them for hours, and you stayed out of his way when he was busy, not wanting to bother anyone, even though you logically knew that he wouldn’t be annoyed. Growing up in a place where everything you did and said was a problem, it made an impact.

But flashbacks quickly made their way back into your life, becoming more realistic every time, leaving you shaking and sobbing on the ground, curled up into a ball. 

After some days with particularly rough flashbacks, you couldn’t function properly, you could barely speak, even. And sometimes dealing with the pain of the memory was so hard that you couldn’t resist hurting yourself.

Today was one of these days.

You made lines in your skin, again and again, and, a few minutes after, reached for something to clean up the blood, wincing as the damp fabric touched your bloodied arm. You stared at your scars from all the other times, scratching at the scabs, and hid the blade you had used.

Footsteps were coming close to the door of your room. “Must be Mark”, you thought, quickly pulling your sleeve down as your heart raced from fear that he would find out. He couldn’t find out. What if he’d end up hating you because of it? What if he got mad? You couldn’t risk getting kicked out by him. 

Seconds later, you heard a knock on your door.

“Yes?”, you said. 

The door opened, and Mark walked into the room, with his goofy smile and messy hair. 

“What’s up, (y/n)?”

“Not much, just reading”, you nodded at the open book on your table and smiles slightly at Mark. 

“You okay?”

He tilted his head, seeming suddenly worried. Maybe it was the smile. “Crap”, you thought, “I hope I didn’t ruin anything. My smile needs to look more real.”

“Yup!”, you replied, trying your very best to sound cheerful, “What about you?”

“I’m great!!! Wanna watch (your favourite movie) with me? I don’t really have much to do at the moment! Might as well hang out, if you want to.” The worry had faded from his face and was replaced with joy. 

You smiled at the mention of your favourite movie, and nodded. “Sure, why not? Let’s watch it for the ninth time!” Not exaggerating. 

You both went to the living room, Mark grabbing a pack of popcorn on the way through the kitchen, and sat down into the extremely comfy couch. Mark logged in to Netflix, searched the movie, and immediately put it on play. You moved closer to Mark,  trying not to let him notice it, but he grinned at you and put his arm over your shoulders and pulled you closer. You flinched away from his arm at first, but hesitantly let him do it after a few seconds, realizing he wasn’t going to hurt you. He still seemed concerned because of the flinch. 

“Popcorn?”, he asked you, tilting the pack at you. You took a bit of it and curled closer to him, getting a bit more comfortable being right beside him. 

A few hours later, you finished watching the movie and were both starting to get awfully tired. You decided to get some sleep. Before you even got off the couch, you heard a sudden loud noise, your eyes widened and you flinched hard, covering your ears with your hands and starting to shake. Mark didn’t react to the noise, but he looked at you and gently touched your arm. He then took your hands just as gently, whispering “It’s okay” a few times. You were still shaking when he quietly asked you what was wrong. 

“It’s.. it’s nothing... I’m, I’m okay...”, you said, trying to stop shaking and panicking. 

“(Y/n), that’s not nothing. Please tell me. I’m here for you, alright? You keep flinching all the time. Did something happen?”

After a few moments, you nodded slowly, refusing to look into his eyes. 

“Who hurt you? Who did this? It’ll be alright, (y/n), I promise.”

You stayed silent for a few minutes, your hands still in his, and then started talking.

“My.. my mother... and almost everyone else in the family.. they kept hurting me, screaming at me.. telling me things...”

“They’re assholes. I’m so sorry you went through that. I wish I could’ve helped you. Do you want to tell me what they told you?”

“They kept saying that I’m a worthless, stupid bitch, that I can’t ever do anything right.. a-and they... they hit me, and kept kissing me when I didn’t wanna be touched.. my mother, she... she screamed at me even when she found out I.. when she found out....” 

You kind of shut down, terrified of what would happen if Mark found out about your self harm. Noticing that you were starting to rock back and forth, Mark tried to calm you down. 

“(Y/n), it’s okay, you can tell me. I won’t hurt you or be mad at you, I promise.”

You waited a few minutes and took one of your hands out of his. You carefully pulled your sleeve up a bit, letting Mark see the cuts and scars on your arm. You were too scared to look him in the eye, but you mustered up the courage to look at his face. He looked sad, scared, hurt, but not angry.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to”. You stared at the floor. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here. You can always talk to me. You’re my best friend, and I’m here for you. None of it was your fault.” He seemed a bit lost, as if he didn’t really know what to do, how to help. 

You nodded and curled as close as you could. You shut your eyes as Mark gently rubbed your back and told you things will be okay someday, and that he’d make sure of it. 

[exploritoryinc]

Markiplier x Reader Series 1

Mark find reader abandoned on his door step.

Series: Yes

Pairing: Mark x Reader

Reader Gender: female

Requested: No

Warnings: Abusive boyfriend, swearing

Other: Help me name the series?

Your boyfr- EX boyfriend roughly opened the car door and threw you out of the seat. You landed harshly on the pavement, your eyes stinging with un-shed tears.

“Don't show your face to me again, bitch! If I see you, I'll kill you!” He shouted before racing off, choking you with a cloud of exhaust fumes.

You sat there for a long while, trying to process what just happened. He threw you out? But finally you realized he left you with nothing and nowhere to go. You didn't even know where you were. You looked around, finding yourself in a neighborhood. Decent houses, no graffiti. At least he didn't dump you downtown.

Well, nothing for it, you thought. You dragged yourself off the ground and walked up the drive of the nearest home.

You knocked on the door, and as you waited for a response you tried to plan what you would say in your head. Nothing was coming out right.

“Hello?” A man at the door interrupted your planning abruptly. He was a younger man, in his twenties, with a mixed ancestry if you had to bet.

Forcing yourself to respond, you opened you mouth and were appalled when you realized you were fighting tears again. “Hello, umm- May I borrow your phone? Or, I guess I don't really have anyone to call- Uh... I need- I need- I need directions, to the nearest-nearest homeless shelter?”

Once more your situation struck you, and you couldn't fight the tears any longer.

“I'm so- I'm- I'm sorry.” You stuttered out, hands covering your face in shame. “My- He dumped me here with nothing, and said- said he'd kill me if he saw me again...”

The man at the door hesitantly reached out in invitation, and you threw yourself into a strangers arms for a hug. He held you gingerly, as though afraid he'd upset you or step to far in comfort. You managed after a moment to control your sobs, and withdrew. “I'm sorry, I'm not normally like this. I have nothing and no one, and it's very overwhelming. Any help finding a shelter would be appreciated... My god I didn't even introduce myself.”

You gave him your name, and he smiled gently.

“My name is Mark, it's lovely to meet you. As for your situation, why don't you come inside. I certainly can't leave you sitting on my stoop. You're welcome to stay here until we get you sorted.”

Shocked at his generosity, you let yourself be led across the threshold and into the kitchen. He seated you at the counter, and confirmed you didn't have allergies before fixing you a quick snack.

You ate on auto pilot, processing everything that was happening. Mark gave you space for a bit, but when you finished your last bite, he spoke again.

“I was serious, you can stay here, but we will need to get you some clothes and toiletries, I'm not set up to have a guest.”

“Thank you, thank you, but- you barely know me. Why?”

“It's what I would want someone to do for me, plus to be honest, you look familiar...”

You watched him glance away in thought and cringed. You hope he hadn't seen you out with your boyfriend before.

The longer you were away the worse your relationship looked in hindsight. The words, the occasional bruise...

Although in public it was only ever words, he didn't provide any way to hide the bruises. Even now the hand print was developing around your wrist from being thrown from the car. You tugged down your sleeve.

“Let's rest for another hour, and then we can go shopping, okay?”

Mark's voice pulled you from your head space, and you felt yourself nodding, not really processing the words as you psyche realized you were safe, and began to drift to sleep. Mark seemed to realize this, as he led you down a hall, and into what was obviously a spare bedroom.

“We'll figure it out when you wake up.”

[leighsartworks216]

Masterlist

This will inevitably get longer the more fandoms and characters I write for, and I will absolutely be keeping it updated. Also, if links don't work, please lemme know and I'll fix em :)

Request Rules

Dialogue Prompts

Tag List Form

Marvel

Loki Masterlist

Also includes Mobius M. Mobius and Wowki/Lokius fics

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Markiplier Egos

Markiplier Egos Masterlist

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Baldur’s Gate 3

First Baldur’s Gate 3 Masterlist

Second Baldur’s Gate 3 Masterlist

I Come With Knives Masterlist

-

Love and Deepspace

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

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My Hero Academia

Shouta Aizawa/Eraserhead

Stressing About Finals - ao3 - Dadzawa x gn!reader (familial)

Warnings: brief mention of family abandonment

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Hizashi Yamada/Present Mic

Feeling Shitty - ao3 - Dad Mic x gn!reader (familial)

Warnings: feeling like shit, depression i guess, hurt/comfort, slight fem reader vibes kinda?? But it can be read as neutral. Oh also swearing just a little

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Yagi Toshinori/All Might

Number One Dad - ao3 - Dad Might x gn!reader (familial)

Warnings: none

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Erasermic

Erasermic Drabble - ao3 - Shouta Aizawa x Hizashi Yamada

Warnings: none

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The Witcher

AO3 Only (Links for here broke) - Geralt x gn!reader (platonic/familial), Jaskier x gn!reader

General warnings (Please read the warnings on each chapter): swearing, blood, fighting

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The Viper: Rewritten - AO3 - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Jaskier x gn!Witcher!reader, Geralt & gn!Witcher!reader (platonic/familial)

General warnings: swearing, blood, violence/fighting

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Jaskier

I'm Not Fine - Jaskier x fem!reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, monster attack, injury (not explicit), nightmares, fear of death (mostly implied)

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The Old Witch Sleep - Jaskier x gn!reader

Warnings: mention of exes, hurt/comfort, gross descriptions of crying

-

Bloodborne

Rom, the Vacuous Spider

My Love - self-indulgent first person

Warnings: canon-typical depressing and angsty

-

Pokemon

Raihan

Dragon Trainers - Raihan x FTM!reader (headcanons)

Warnings: none

-

Star Trek

Leonard “Bones” McCoy

Logical - Bones x GN!Reader (platonic or romantic)

Warnings: swearing, injuries, angst + hurt/comfort with a happy ending

-

Data Soong

Painting Data’s Nails - ao3 - Data x GN!Reader (platonic)

Warnings: very very light angst

-

Biological Malfunctions - ao3 - Data x AFAB!reader (platonic or romantic)

Warnings: period fic, read warnings on fic

-

Pottery with Data - ao3 - Data x gn!reader (platonic)

Warnings: none, just fluff

-

Star Wars

Obi-Wan Kenobi

I Forgive You - Obi-Wan Kenobi x gn!reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort??, some fluff, read warnings on fic

-

Din Djarin

Goodbye to a World - AO3 - Din Djarin & gn!reader

Warnings: blasters are pulled out but not fired, lots of emotions dealing with walking to one’s death, angst

-

Ace Attorney

Miles Edgeworth

You’re Married?! - AO3 - Miles Edgeworth drabble

Warnings: none

-

Phoenix Wright

We’ll Be Okay - AO3 - Phoenix Wright (disbarred) x gn!reader (can be read as platonic)

Warnings: living paycheck to paycheck, depression, references to alcoholism, hurt/comfort, fluff, light angst

-

Not Guilty - AO3 - Phoenix Wright (disbarred) & “adopted” gn!reader (PLATONIC/FAMILIAL)

Warnings: allusions to murder, blood mention, possible abusive family references

-

I Believe In You - AO3 - Phoenix Wright (disbarred) x gn!reader

Warnings: mentions of murder, references to past mentally abusive relationships (not explicit), mentions of blowing noses/snot/mucus, like 2 swears

-

Klavier Gavin

Strawberry Lip Balm - AO3 - Klavier Gavin x gn!reader

Warnings: none

-

Legend of Zelda

Ganondorf

My King - AO3 - Ganondorf x gn!Hylian!reader/no-name OC

Warnings: making out, allusions to sex, possessiveness, size-difference

-

Forever and Always - AO3 - Ganondorf x gn!Hylian!reader/no-name OC

Warnings: none, just fluff

-

Wishes - AO3 - Ganondorf x gn!Captain!reader/no-name OC

Warnings: none

-

Lord of the Rings

Aragorn

Face the Crowd - AO3 - Aragorn x fem!Reader

-

Stardew Valley

Harvey

... Oops - AO3 - Harvey x gn!Farmer

Warnings: swearing, dizziness, anxiety, possibly OOC Harvey

-

On The Count Of Three - AO3 - Harvey x FTM!Farmer

Warnings: needles, injections, mention of fear of heights, anxiety, references to Harvey's ten heart event, slight hurt/comfort, semi-implied transphobia (not addressed)

-

I Was Hoping You'd Find Me Here - AO3 - Harvey x gn!Farmer

SMUT Warnings: smut, semi-public sex, hand jobs, blow job mention, anxiety, embarrassment, blood mention, praise kink, slight dom/sub

-

We'll Figure It Out - AO3 - Harvey x gn!Farmer

Warnings: hurt/comfort, anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts (not explicit), crying, brief reference to alcoholism, drugs and suicide

-

And All I See Is You - AO3 - Harvey x gn!Farmer

Warnings: cold, shivering, nudity mention

-

How To Adjust To Married Life - AO3 - Harvey x gn!Farmer

Warnings: none

-

The Arcana

Asra Alnazar

Rice Pudding - AO3 - Asra x gn!Reader/Apprentice

Warnings: food, vague spoilers (as in, if you know you know), Asra being mischievous

-

Julian Devorak

Death Bed - AO3 - Julian x gn!Reader/Apprentice

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, crying, mental breakdown, coming to terms with dying, death, spoilers for Julian's route

-

[psychopathicwriting]

to be used

i am by now on vacation in a country where i get no internet access. so this is the start of stocked up fics. and what better way to kick off the holidays than with a fic about darkiplier and his manipulation? 

for the one who asked to be tagged, here you are, doll. @the-real-bubblegum-bitch . and as always….

enjoy the show

Dark had been seeing you for a little over two months now. In that time, it had become very clear to him that you were incredibly easy. Not in the sense that you gave up your body to just anyone, but that you gave up control quite easily. Especially since he knew exactly what your type was.

You wanted a man who could be wicked, but wouldn’t. You wanted a man who treated you like royalty. A man who wasn’t afraid to keep your attention on him. He was caring towards you, and only you. With others Dark could be cruel, but never had he ever even come close to hurting you. From the moment you met, it was nothing but sweet names and gentle mannerisms and soothing tones. He was the bad man that was a whole new person just for you.

Dark knew that was what you wanted. The bad boy trope where suddenly meeting the right person turns him good enough for them. You fell for it easily, being ever the romantic, having read so many stories of the like, having watched so many films with the same plot. You craved to have your own prince charming. Your own devil made angel. This made you letting him in incredibly easy for Dark. It took little effort on his part. So little effort that by the time he’d been around you two months, you were already falling head over heels. He knew it, but didn’t act on it. This was supposed to go much like a story would.

Meaning he had to wait just a little bit longer. After all, the protagonists always fell fast and were too stupid to see clearly. There would reach that moment in the next week or so, he felt, that would be the tipping point. The feelings would be let out and Dark would make sure that they were… reciprocated.

Today, Dark was supposed to take you out. It was a simple outing this time. A nice quiet stroll through the park at sunset and resting by the pond to feed the ducks. You had been a bit more reserved today, having discovered your feelings a couple weeks before, you were constantly nervous around him. He was always so calm. So… at peace. You tried your best to match that body language but surely he could hear the pounding of your heart when he complimented your attire. Surely he could see your heart dropping and your breath hitching when you lay eyes on him. When you met his eyes, the world seemed to stop, and you were terrified over how insane you felt about him. This wasn’t just a crush. This was love. You were in love with Dark and you only hoped he was too considering he spent the past two months ravishing you with gifts and attention. When he was with you, he seemed to not pay attention to the world around him. His focus was solely on you and your happiness.

You so desperately wanted that to mean that he loved you too – even if it was just a little bit.

“Are you alright, darling?” Dark asked when you had gone a little quiet and lost in thought. His brows had furrowed slightly. Your heart melted at the concern he had for you. You smiled and nodded. He tilted his head and held your hand. He wasn’t warm. He wasn’t a man that radiated heat. That didn’t bother you, though, as he wasn’t uncomfortably cold to hang onto. It seemed to be normal for him to have a milder body heat than most men.

“Let’s go,” Dark said gently. “It’s getting late and you should be getting home.” The return to your house made you even more nervous. You wanted to tell him to come inside and stay the night. He didn’t force his company on you, which made you love him more. He was patient. He must love you.

Dark’s head was running with scenario’s. He should speed things along. How could he do that? He was very aware of the human that seemed helpless in his presence. Of course, they weren’t helpless entirely. In fact, when he wasn’t around he knew they were very much self-reliant. Perhaps just a simple action would work in his favor…

When the both of you had reached your house, you fumbled around with your keys. When you dropped them, you let out an exasperated huff of impatience. Dark reached down to pick up the key chain and unlocked the door for you.

“Thank you,” you said taking the keys from him and stepping into the house. “Come in.” Dark raised a brow of amusement before stepping into the house and adjusting his suit jacket. He’d been inside your house before, but that was more of a necessity than an invitation to stay. Dark knew what was coming.

You walked over to the hanger and put your jacket in the hook. You were nervous beyond belief. But you were going to ask… this had been on your mind now more than ever.

“What is it, darling?” Dark asked patiently. The amusement in his eyes went unnoticed by you. He loved watching you fidget under his gaze. You felt incredibly noticed. It was unusual.

“I…” you started taking in a deep breath. Now or never. “What are we?” Dark blinked, pretending to be taken aback by the question. He put his hands behind his back. “We… we’ve been seeing each other for a bit now. What are we?” Dark allowed himself to let out a chuckle. You frowned and started blushing over embarrassment. You shouldn’t have asked.

“I didn’t know we had to be anything specific,” Dark mused. Your chest constricted. This was getting painful.

“Oh,” you said meekly. Dark frowned.

“What would you like us to be?” Dark asked. He was giving you the final choice. This was your last chance to keep the last bit of independence and control over yourself that you had. You blushed.

“I just…” You stammered, blushing even more. “I…” Dark smirked and walked over to you. You watched him, slightly afraid of the current situation. He took your hand in his. He’d done this before – constantly in fact. But given the topic of discussion, this felt much more intimate. Your heart was going wild. Surely, he knew that.

And he did know that. He knew exactly what was going on with you. With your body.

“How much do you like me exactly?” Dark asked quietly. Sometimes the way you heard his voice, it sounded like it echoed. You chalked it up as your emotions clouding your perception. Little did you know his voice actually did echo and reverberate. It took everything in you to answer him honestly.

“I don’t like you anymore,” you said softly. He raised a brow and smirked.

“But…” he pressed, one hand going up to just above your elbow, the other still carefully holding your hand.

“I… I don’t ever want to be without you,” you breathed out. Dark’s smirked turned into a triumphant grin.

“Do I take it that you love me?” Dark said quietly. You were looking right in his eyes. He was so perfect.

“I do,” You said hesitantly.

“How much?” Dark said this a little forcefully. His smile had dropped. His grip on you didn’t tighten, but it stiffened. The hand that was holding your hand moved to your waist and he pulled you in one step as he asked this. He needed to know. This was the critical point in his influence over you.

“I-” You said. “I don’t think I can live without you.” Dark’s serious expression turned into something positive. Was it joy? Was it happiness? You couldn’t tell. But he was excited. This was victory. He knew it was a lie. He knew you could very much live without him. This love you were feeling was simply clouding your thoughts a little too much. “I’d die for you.” Dark’s smile widened a bit, the amusement adding to the excitement.

“That’s fine,” Dark mused. “But… would you kill for me?” The question was odd. But you answered without hesitation.

“Yes,” you said firmly. “Anything.”

“Would you let me in?” He was serious once again. The question to you sounded sexual. As if he was asking for permission to have you. Thinking that to be the truth, you nodded.

“Anything,” you repeated. Dark smiled again.

Dark pulled you in and kissed you. He hadn’t done that before. But this was the final step. You were going to be a little marionette and it would start with this. Instantly you melted and kissed him back. Your hands went up and held the lapels of his suit jacket.

While to you, the night would end with satisfaction and the promise of a life with the man you loved, Dark knew better. See, he knew that to you the question was a matter of sex and that this would mean you’d be the love of his life. But that isn’t how that worked. Sex was a matter of trust - especially when it involved love. Sleeping with him meant you would be a slave. He would only have to give the command and you’d do anything he wanted. You would lose everything. All sense of self thought, will, and reliance gone. So as Dark moved to give you what you wanted, he smiled in triumph. You would be yet another puppet on the string of his shoes.

And you wouldn’t ever be able to leave him. 

[si1verrose]

Monster's Lack of Love (Darkiplier x reader)

Author’s Note: I am sorry it is so short but I didnt really know what you wanted. I tried my best, if you want a rewrite let me know!

Warnings: Short, mental abuse, bad relationship.

You had always known falling for a demon had been a horrid idea. They were rage filled creatures that found joy in sucking the happiness out of people. Dark however had always seemed different.

You two met each other randomly and even after finding he was a demon, you still jumped into a relationship with him. Through all the rage, hatred, you stayed. How you regretted it.

It had been a normal night. The moon shined through your open windows casting its beautiful light onto your floor. All was well as you read your book peaceful until the familiar sense of dread filled the living room. The lights flickered and a dark fog cloud appeared, dispersing when Dark’s human form appeared. His normal well put together suit was coated in crimson. hair disheveled and an angry look flashing across his eyes. The air around you suddenly seemed suffocating.

“Hello.” You greeted nervously as you set your book down beside you. Seeing the demon in such a state was uncommon and to be honest scared you.

“Why are you humans so reckless?” Dark asked. His once smooth voice, rough and hate filled. You stood slowly as the demon took a step towards you. “You are so fragile yet your kind undermines me, how easy you all are to manipulate.”

“What?” Your tone reflected your hurt confusion. Was he insulting you?

“Except you.” Dark snarled, appearing in front of me. His eyes were dark. “You of all humans.” Something snapped in my mind, fear and realization that the man…demon I loved was evil.

“You’re a monster”

I whispered. “I love a monster.” Dark grinned at my words something evil in his eyes.

“Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you can be broken.” He wondered aloud.

“I don’t love you anymore.“

His words stung, my heart shattering into pieces. This wasn’t Dark. At least the wasn’t the Dark I fell in love with. My words died in my throat and this only made the demon laugh more. “You are just like them.”He snarled, lights flickering around us.

“Weak.”

[thefanficmonster]

Hidden Powers

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Abuse allegations, Swearing, Mild melancholy

Genre: Humor, SLIGHT Angst, Fluff, RPF (Real Person Fic) - Sorry the genres are all over the place

Summary: A misconception or misunderstanding turned rumor threatens to bring down Corpse’s entire career, but luckily, Y/N knows better than to stand aside and let it happen.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your request and I’m so sorry for the long wait but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy the fic if you happen to come across it. Love, Vy ❤

“Fuck this game!“ Y/N yells out in frustration as she is met with the screen informing her of her failure - aka death - for the fifth time in the past hour. “Has anyone ever even passed night four? I’m sure the king of FNAF Markiplier has but I’m also sure he hasn’t done it one a livestream! And my big mouth really had to go ahead and swear not to end this stream until I pass this God forsaken night, ughhh!“

Typically, Y/N’s quite the fearful rat when playing horror games, especially when home alone like right now, but this FNAF game has gradually turned her into a raging gamer instead. Not raging as in kicking ass at the game but as in the game kicking the ass of her sanity. She’s been struggling with this specific night for a while - the better half of her previous stream and an hour into today’s. Well, seeing how little progress she’s making with each try, it’s gonna be way more than an hour into today’s livestream as well. She’ll be lucky if she manages to get past it before hitting the three hour mark or just rage quitting which she’s bound to do eventually if her gameplay keeps going at this rate.

Another try later, she’s once again jumpscared into a failure screen that’s practically mocking her at this point. Throwing her arms above her head, Y/N sighs heavily, the frustration she’s harboring becoming more and more evident in her body language. “You know what, I need a break. Lemme see what you guys are saying in the chat.”

Scrolling through comments upon comments greeting her, sending her compliments and some trolling her with some hateful remarks she comes across a question which makes her brows furrow. That same question is repeated by a few other people but they fly by so quickly she doesn’t manage to catch the people’s usernames.

“A bruise on my arm? Where?“ She says out loud as she inspects both her arms, looking for what her chat had been talking about. That’s when her eyes eyes land on the purple mark on the skin just above her right elbow. She laughs, “Oh this? I know I’m a clumsy person but Corpse is to blame for this one.“

Little does the girl know, her boyfriend, who’s currently in his own apartment instead of camping out at hers, is watching this very stream, laughing his ass off remembering how that bruise came to be.

His laughter is cut short though when he catches glimpse of Y/N’s chat which suddenly floods with concern from her fans - assumptions and allegations of him being an abusive boyfriend starting to pollute the previously cheerful comment section. His stomach turns, for many reasons, each reason making it tighten in a worse and more painful knot. 

The first blow comes from people actually coming up with such a thing. How could they even allow their minds to wander to such a dark and disgusting place where he’d be even remotely an abuser.

The second blow to his heart is delivered by the fact that people believed it. How and why could people believe such an absurd idea?! How low did these people think of him? What kind of piece of shit did he come off as to some people?

And the third is the mental image the idea gives him. It’s such a fucked up scene, he can’t even conjure it up, he can’t mentally picture it. Hell, he could and would never even raise his voice at Y/N. He’d never dare upset her or hurt her feelings let alone hurt her....like that!

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!“ Y/N’s gasp reaches him as though it was meant to fish him out of the downward spiral he started going down with these overwhelmingly dark thoughts, “What’s with this nonsense some of y’all are spewing in the chat?!“ She sounds downright angry and irritated, ready to fight whoever will continue spreading these rumors about her lovely boyfriend whom she absolutely adores. “Guys, I mean, seriously?! Do you have any idea what you’re talking about and WHO you’re talking about? Do we have the same Corpse in mind here? I doubt we do - you have some villainized, abusive version, and I have the loving boyfriend who tried to teach me how to handle a lightsaber so we can have a lightsaber fight and my dumbass used my own weapon against me. Yeah, I was pretty salty Corpse laughed his heart out while I was cringing in pain, but man, you guys take it farther than the farthest.“ Seeing his sweet, kind and non-confrontational girlfriend who always avoids conflict at all costs turn into this protective lioness because someone is talking shit about him is heartwarming and scary at the same time. “Y’all better shut the hole where these fucked up rumors surfaced from before you get one of the most innocent, loving and caring individuals in hot water for the BS you came up with! Copy? You better.“

Corpse has never in his entire life seen the topic of a stream chat change so quickly, the rumor never once getting brought up again.

That’s some serious power right there - power he never knew Y/N possessed because of her cute and soft exterior. Now he knows what kinda beast of a woman he’s dating - one prepared to do anything to protect him, no matter who from. And damn does that make him feel emotional and loved despite the shit that just happened. She can make him forget all the bad within the blink of an eye - that too is another superpower of hers, but this one he’s known about from the very start.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse  @sunnyrae-cessh  @ladykxxx08  @meowiemari  @renupf  @booklover76  @sra-verissimo