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tangylemonade · 10 months ago

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Last Night

Heeseung x afab reader

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT •

SMUT (w/cursing)

About 2.3k

I was having Heeseung hard hours and wrote this last night. I barely edited it so let me know if you find any spelling mistakes 😽.

Let me know what you think and please COMMENT and REBLOG if you enjoyed.

Thank you for reading 😊

Don’t fuck the talent.

Seems simple enough, right?

Right.

So could someone kindly explain how and why you were currently under Heeseung at 3 in the mornings making the bed shake to a sinful tune.

Waking up the morning after while ‘shit shit shit’ played on repeat in your head as you looked over at the slender yet muscular frame that was cuddled up against you, arm draped over your waist.

A glance at his watch revealed it was the afternoon and you let out a groan.

The sun filtered and flickered through the curtains as the wind from the open window sent them aflutter, your wind chimes pleasantly singing.

The man stirred next to you, slowly opening his eyes, squinting as the sunlight beamed down on his unfairly handsome face. The rays felt comforting and warm on your skin despite the cool air that was blowing through. Tricky situation aside, you found yourself suddenly smiling at how satisfied and well rested you felt this lovely morning.

Heeseung on the other hand, who was still going through the initial shock, sat up quickly and looked down at you who didn’t even bother to move from your relaxed posture in bed.

No benefit in panicking now you thought, not after the way he licked your pussy and sucked you clit until you shook last night.

You could almost see recounts of the night racing through his doe eyes.

He looked at you again, this time staring as a blush slowly crept into his face.

You raised an eyebrow confused.

You hadn’t realized that the blanket had been removed in his panicked scramble.

But he did.

He noticed everything from how the warm sun glistened on your glowy skin to how the light reflecting from the wind chimes you had hung on your curtain rod danced along the curves and lines of your body, furter enticing the beauty that had him mindless.

“Uhh..you.” He stuttered, his eyes flickering across your body, finally drawing your attention to the reason for his sudden shyness.

“Oh..” you pulled the blanket around your chest and sat up.

You weren’t the only one still in your birthday suit.

Now sitting up your eyes couldn’t help but wander along his body.

Quickly noticing your line of vision, Heeseung pulled the blanket around his waist.

Your face felt warm despite the fact that just hours ago your mouth had kissed and licked out all of the curses he knew in English and Korean.

As thoughts of last night began to settle back in the panic you thought you’d curbed rejoined the party setting off your dreadful habit of word vomiting.

“Listen.” You said breaking the silence. “Heesung, I'm sorry. This really is my fault. I should’ve been more responsible. Especially since I’m…”

Heeseung wanted to listen but he just couldn’t focus. Not when the way your pretty lips moved sent more replays of what else you had done with them flashing through his mind.

Agonizingly his cock began to throb despite his internal plees with himself to calm down.

But he couldn’t. Not when he experienced the way your beautiful mouth felt wrapped around him just hours ago. The way your lush body fit in his hands as he felt you the way he’d always wanted to. Not when he finally got to kiss your lips and they tasted exactly as he knew they would. Sweet and supple.

Now all he could focus on was how much he wanted to kiss you again.

“Heeseung?”

The beautiful sound of your voice calling his name brought him back to the present. He looked up at you only to find you looking down. Following your eyes he saw the tent in the blanket he’d loosely pulled around himself.

“You weren’t listened to a thing I said were you?” You asked, face burning once again.

You stood and wrapped the sheet around you, tucking it into itself so it would stay up.

Heeseung didn’t even bother to cover his erection as he stood and wrapped the towel he’d tossed on the floor last night around his waist, tucking it the same as you.

The regret and shame of your previous actions no longer pulled on him. Not even one little bit. And how could they when you were still so beautiful in front of him and he knew he wouldn’t blink before he did it all again.

“I always imagined what it would be like to have you under me.” Heeseung suddenly proclaimed.

You backed up as he stepped closer to you, blinking in shock at his sudden statement.

He continued to walk closer until your back was against the wall and he was so close to you that his erection brushed against your thigh.

“Heeseung th-this is serious.” You said, squeezing your legs together. You suddenly felt desire pooling hot in your core. “We-we could get in trouble. We shouldn’t…”

“Why?” He said, suddenly cutting you off. “Why when we clearly both have been wanting this”

“Heeseung…“

“It was dumb to think I could stop craving you after one taste.”

“That was the plan Heeseung. One night. We get it out of our systems and move on.”

The heat from his body felt so good in the cold winter morning air so you could barely think straight.

“Well that was the dumbest fucking idea Y/N because right now…I- I want you more then ever.”

His strong fingers wrapped around your hand before traveling up your arms leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Cupping your face with gentle hands, he looked into your eyes with his big round brown ones.

Those eyes you couldn’t resist and couldn’t deny.

You wanted to run, scream, and kiss him all at once. You swallowed and pitifully searched his eyes for any sign to end this but all you saw was the same look that got you in the mess in the first place.

“That’s why I said I’m sorry.” You choked out “I was wrong to think we should’ve indulged in any of this. I was drunk- I…”

“You and I both know you weren’t darling.” He said cutting you off once again. Heeseung didn’t see the point in lying just to deny your obvious infatuation with each other. Neither of you were stupid.

You looked away from him, afraid to cry or say anything else.

Heeseung softly caught your chin between his index finger and thumb, bringing your eyes back to his.

Looking into your shaking pupils he knew right away just how scared you were.

Scared to pursue something you weren’t certain of. Something that could end so badly for both of you.

But he also knew that he was right. You couldn’t have been more sober last night.

You had wanted him just as much as he needed you.

You still do.

“Fuck!” you said under you breath. It was too late to turn back now.

But even if you could, would you?

You grabbed his face and pulled him towards you. His mouth was so very warm against yours as he invited you in. Your hands raked through his hair and he undid the tuck of the sheet from around your body.

Heeseung pulled you closer to him as the wrinkled white linen pooled around your ankles, his hands once again finding purchase against the smoothness of your body.

Your nipples were hard against his chest as he pressed you between him and the wall, your back arching to escape the cold.

His towel that loosed on the commotion joined the white bundle of fabric at your ankles and his erection, now freed, pressed against your stomach tantalizingly.

You reached down instinctively and began to stroke his silky member, pre cum already seeping from the tip. He groaned into your mouth and you hummed in satisfaction at the way everything felt perfect with him.

His hands unable to pick one thing to focus went up and down as he squeezed your thighs and hips then your waist and boobs.

All of you.

Heeseung wanted to have all of you.

Ever since the first day you showed up and were introduced as the choreographer for their most recent song. Your radiant smile left his heart pounding and his palms sweaty. Focusing on the moves you showed became increasingly more challenging when he noticed how sensually your body moved with every dance.

And good god you smelled heavenly.

He cursed himself for acting like a creep but one day he caught you watching him in the mirror and his thoughts began to wander beyond his control.

What if?… no. It wasn’t possible. But…what if you thought about him too.

As impossible as it seemed his suspicions were undeniably confirmed when he saw the lust filled gaze in your eyes yesterday while celebrating the songs first win with the members and staff.

You excused yourself and he talked himself into following you a little bit after, catching you in the parking garage on the way to your car.

“Hi?” You said, feigning confusion as if you hadn’t just been telepathically begging him to ravish you..

But you knew why he came. It was the same reason why you were leaving.

You didn’t want to do anything stupid but the opportunity was too tempting to let go.

You’d talked with Heeseung many times during work and each time you spent every opportunity flirting while it often felt like he was trying to undress you with his eyes.

It was too much tonight. You felt like you had to leave or you might fuck him right there in front of everyone. His eyes that twinkled into yours was the final straw.

Your mind screamed at you that this was off limits but your body wouldn’t comply.

You didn’t stop him from giving you a ride home and you didn’t stop him from pressing you up against the inside of your house door as you tore each other's clothes off.

And right now you didn’t stop Heeseung from doing it all again as he pressed you up against the wall after you slid a condom onto his aching cock.

You didn’t stop him even a little bit as he slid into you, catching you as your knees buckled a bit from the instant pleasure.

The sound of you moaning his name had him gritting his teeth with increasing desire.

Your lips were swollen and hot with Heesungs kisses.

His sucks and nibbles at your collarbone would surely leave marks but you didn’t care in the least bit.

His hips rolling into you at a breathstoping rhythm was all you could process.

You held onto his back, your nails digging into him as the heat began to deepen in your core.

Heeseung’s cock twitched inside of you, your walls squeezing and milking him in the most delicious way.

Moans fell from his kissed pink lips as your pussy swallowed him and left him feeling dizzy.

Heeseung lifted your thigh against his hip, skillfully rolling into you. It only took a bit longer before his orgasm rippled through him, his heat filling the condom. And it wasn’t long after him that you followed, the fluttering of your pussy delectably squeezing his pleasure into overstimulation.

You twitched in his arms as he did a few more lazy strokes before pulling out and leaving you feeling strangely empty without the stretch of him.

You stayed leaning against Heeseung as he held you up against the wall. He peppered little kisses on your neck and shoulder as you both caught your breath enough to head to the bathroom.

“Now.” he said softly, lifting you up and placing a kiss on your nose. “Let’s go shower and eat breakfast.”

The simply nodded still too drunk off of his dick to do anything else.

He gingerly caressed your skin as he helped you wash (despite you being completely capable of the task yourself) leaving you feeling absolutely dreamy. You couldn’t resist making out in the shower so you didn’t even try but sadly it was cut short by the ring of Heeseung’s phone reminding you two to stop screwing around.

“You're lucky the live isn’t until 6.” Jake said to Heeseung over the phone.

You sat quietly as you chewed on a bit of toast and jam Heeseung had so kindly made while you prepared the eggs.

You started to quietly laugh at the way Jake was scolding Heeseung but that ended quickly when you heard your name being mentioned.

“I know your with Y/N because you guys had been eye fucking all last night so don’t even try to deny it.”

Heesung laughed at your wide open eyes of shock and you could practically hear Jake rolling his eyes.

“Whatever.” Jake said. “You need to be at the shop in like 30 minutes so don’t be late or I tell everybody exactly why you are.”

Heesung hung up on Jake without a word.

“Should I give you a ride?” You asked.

Heeseung nodded in agreement before going back to eating his breakfast in no rush.

You grabbed a jacket from your closet before putting your keys in your bag and heading for the door.

Heeseung, who was already ready and leaning against the door waiting for you, grabbed you by the waist and pulled you against him. You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you.

He leaned in, carefully placing a soft kiss on your smiling lips.

“Yup,” Heeseung said after he pulled away from the kiss.

You tilted your head and raised your eyebrows inquisitively. “What?”

“You taste too fucking good to quit.”

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thevalkyriesshadow · 3 months ago

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I have a naughty Gwynriel fic idea I'm planning for October 😈

Claim Me by TheValkyriesShadow

Priestess Gwyn works as a healer in a small village. One day, a stranger appears - terribly wounded. Gwyn takes him in and cares for him, but slowly begins to realize there may be something more to the stranger she's welcomed into her home. Something more...sinister.

Read a sexy little snippet under the break!

Please note, this snippet contains acts of voyeurism and mentions of breeding kinks.

I've been watching this quaint cottage in the middle of the woods for three days. I was first drawn in by the enticing smells that wafted from it; the rosemary and lavender that hung drying in the windows, a hearty stew cooking on the stove, and something else, something…salacious.

No one came out the first night. Just a figure drifting past the windows, their shadow illuminated by an array of candles inside.

They must be a healer, for the next day many people came to the cottage; an elderly woman, a young boy, a pregnant couple…

I grow ravenous as the smell of the fetus yet born met my senses.

Soon. I tell myself. Soon.

Despite half the village coming and going, whoever lived in the cottage never came out. Until the third day of my watch. I was diligent and patient. I knew what I wanted - what I needed - was in that cottage.

Good things come to those who wait. Very, very good things.

The sun was just setting on another busy day for the healer. Gathering herbs is what brought them, brought her, out from the cottage.

My heart all but stopped. She was perfect. Beautiful. I couldn't stop staring at the way her copper hair glowed like molten metal in the low light. The way her eyes - bright like the twinkling sea water - glowed as she hummed a tune. Her voice as she sang, was like a beacon, drawing me near. Her hips, swaying side to side as she bustled around her garden…

The perfect hips. Sat just wide enough to hold my heir in her womb.

I breathed in deeply, my chest rumbling. That scent. The scent I'd been trying to place…it was her. She had that wonderful, lustful scent that had invaded my senses and mingled with the herbs and food she made.

I stilled. She was standing straight like a rod, like she'd heard something. Heard me. Crouching in the trees. Watching…waiting….

She turned around, perhaps deciding that the low growl she heard was not the rumble from deep in my chest, but something else, a bear or badger…but not me.

Whoever she was, she didn't know I was out here. Had no idea what lurked in the woods surrounding her cottage. If she did…she wouldn't have left her curtains open.

Nor would she be undressing.

My cock, already hard from her scent on the wind, strained against the restricting pants I wore. I watched as she let her light blue dress fall to the floor revealing a white silken slip underneath. Her nipples hardened against the cool, autumn breeze that blew through the trees and into her window. I wanted to taste them. Touch them. Suckle them.

She let one strap fall, then the other and by the gods, good and evil…She was perfect.

Her milky, white skin scattered with rust colored freckles glowed in the dim light. The shadows played with the curves and lines of her body. I was jealous of the natural shadows of the world, feeling her - touching her.

I could. If I wanted to. I could send my shadows out and caress her skin and she wouldn’t know. Would think it is just a string of fabric or a bit of hair.

But - no, this female…this female would know. She’d sense the strange touch of my magic.

I couldn't place why or how I came to this conclusion. It was this new, inherent feeling I had....perhaps it was the way she diligently checked each and every herb she plucked from the garden earlier. Making sure every piece she took was meticulously inspected. Or how she was currently meandering her room, book in hand, and completely naked. She was an enigma to me. Studious, yet free-spirited. Self-aware, yet careless - leaving her curtains open at night when anyone could peer in.

So for now, I hold them back and enjoy her figure from afar.

Soon.

Soon I’d get to feel her pert breasts, her silky hair, and thighs carved of muscle beneath my hands. Soon I’d get to mark her, claim her, fill her…make her scream my name into the night.

Soon.

Soon she would be mine.

#gwynriel #pro gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel shadowsinger #gwyn x azriel #azriel x gwyn #acotar #gwynriel fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #this one is gunna be kinky #with a capital K #wip #wip wednesday #writing wip

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 year ago

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Blessed Are The Meek 1

Summary: you are trapped in an awkward circumstance with a widowed commander. (Handmaid AU)

Warning: this series will contain violence, dystopian aspects, rape and noncon, blood, coercion, sterility, and other dark elements. Please read these warnings and beware.

Character: Tommy Shelby

Note: thank you for following along. I'm sure yall didn't expect to write Tommy again but here we are. Also feedback and comments if you dont mind. Maybe a reblog. 💕💕💕💕

You climb the steps in the grim glow of the wall sconce on the next floor. Your linen veil weighs heavy over your hair as you keep your head down, balancing the tray in your hands as you make the curved ascent. Your smock rustles with your steps down the long hallway, shadows leaning in the further you get in the groaning house.

The office door is open, as it is at six every night. The routine is fine-tuned and never a second out of rhythm. You enter and place the tray on the broad oak desk that serves as the centerpiece to the space.

You sift through the greyness and pull the chain on the lamp on the shelves set into the wall. The glass shade lights up with hues of amber and jade. You back up and smooth your hands over your apron. You retreat to the door but stop short as you're met by a dark figure.

You stare at Commander Shelby’s lapel. You don’t expect to see him. You rarely do. He haunts this place like a ghost. Some days you wonder if he is even still about. You’re only assured by the few bites taken from the meals you deliver like clockwork or the clothing left for wash and starching outside his door.

He takes a step back, his sole scuffing deafeningly in the silence. You do not hesitate. You take the cue. The rare moment of deference. You angle past him and down the hall. Your only farewell is the sharp snap of the door behind him.

You hurry down the stairs and back to the kitchen to begin your nightly duties. There isn’t much mess to clean up, not more than the dust of indolence. There hasn’t been much life to this place since the Commander’s wife passed. You linger, in limbo, awaiting but never receiving your dismissal.

You set to sweeping the already swept floorboards. Then you shine the cutlery. Dust the cobwebs that don’t exist, shake out the curtains but leave them extended across the windows. You cling to the heavy embroidered drapes as a memory comes.

The day of her burial, when you dared to let in the sunshine and the Commander hollered and yanked upon them until the rod fell down. Since that day, the anger simmered but did not boil over again, repressed by the stagnant air of grieving.

You wipe the surfaces, finding some end tables you missed. Such a big house to be occupied by so few. A sudden clatter shakes the stillness of the house and you jolt as you look up at the ceiling.

You tuck away the cloth and head back upstairs. It is late and you are worn out from the tedium of aimlessness. Perhaps, at least, you will have a real task to attend to.

You get to the top and go back down the hallway. The dishes, along with their contents, are scattered across the narrow rug. You near cautiously, a tremor flowing in your veins. The commander stands in the door of his office and glares as you approach. You bend to take the metal tray but he steps forward to kick it away.

You stand and fold your hands over your apron, chin bowed.

“Commander,” you address him flatly.

He doesn’t say anything. You sniff and go again to pick up the tray. He comes closer again but does not repeat the act. He stands in the midst of his mess as you tidy up around him. You put the dishes on the tray and take the cloth from your apron as you get to your knees and try to clean up the spilled food.

“You are a martha,” he growls, “you do not pity a commander.”

You don’t argue. You just utter, “yes. Commander,” and continue your duty.

“I could have you sent to The Colonies.”

“Yes, Commander,” you repeat as you continue your work.

He circles you and puts his shoe at the center of your back, stilling you as he leans just an ounce of strength into you. You clutch the cloth tight. You expected to be sent to another household, but The Colonies… perhaps this life is just as bad as a death sentence as it were.

“I always thought it rather amusing the chips you barren bitches wear on your shoulders. A sense of righteousness which would affront the lord himself,” he pushes until your arms are shaking, “how does it feel to have the chip knocked away? How does it feel to cower at the heels of the chosen?”

“Under his eye,” you whisper.

He exhales heavily and shoves off you, sending you to your stomach as he stamps his foot back to the floor. He twists his heel in the smear of potatoes across the rug as he spins and marches back into his office. He swings the door shut and casts you into darkness. For a moment, you do not move. You cannot.

Will you wake to The Eyes coming to take you to a colony?

#tommy shelby #dark tommy shelby #dark!tommy shelby #peaky blinders #au #handmaid au #drabble #series #blessed are the meek

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soulshards · 3 months ago

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FFXIVWRITE 2024, PROMPT #8: SPONTANEOUS (Free Day) tw: none • words: 797

performed or occurring as a result of a sudden impulse or inclination

It wasn’t quite nighttime - not yet. The sun hung low in brightly coloured sky, brilliant hues of reds and yellows spilling out across the horizon as in a few hours, it would say it’s farewell. But it was still daytime, and Bites had a rather impulsive need to go fishing. And they did not want to fish alone.

They walked lazily, long, spiny tail swaying from side to side, as in one hand they carried a bait box, and the other, two fishing rods.

Dark eyes peered at the Inn before them, messy, fluffy hair getting a shuffle as Bites dipped their head to the side. Their friend was staying here, that they were sure of. And though the sun had yet to set, they were sure they wouldn’t mind getting up a little early in order to spend some time together.

Their hand raised to the door, pushing it open as they passed to the counter in order to double-check the room number in which their friend was resting. Once confirmed, they continued on, up some stairs, and a right, before they came before the dark oak door. Locked.

Bites leaned to the side, long arms resting the bait box on the floor, as a curved nail was raised up, and inserted into the lock. After some wiggling around, they felt the soft click of the mechanism before pressing on the handle to open the door fully. They wouldn’t mind.

Probably.

A grin found their lips as the door swung open, the sleeping form of their friend draped over the bed; dark scales with speckles of red that covered so much pale skin, wrapping around his back like a blanket, tousled white hair standing up in random points from his sleep. The curtains were drawn, no light in the room save for that which spilled out from the now open door.

Bites inhaled deeply, as purposefully heavy footsteps brought them over to the bed. They was usually low energy, a little more placid and calm - but sometimes, on occasion, they would let out this more playful side in the company of friends. “Shuunnbaaaiii!” They were not shouting, but they were loud. Loud enough to almost rouse the man from his sleep.

“Get up! I want to go fishin’!” The base of the fishing rods were raised up, coming to jab him lightly in the side. A large hand raised, swiping at the obnoxious intrusion upon his slumber with little grace or any real effort and a faint grumble was heard by forward facing horns. “C’mooon. There’s still some daylight left!”

“I’m sleeping, Bites… go away…” another grumble, more coherent, as the man shuffled on the bed to turn away from Bites and the prodding fishing rods.

The fishing rods were placed to the side, resting against the bedside table - the bait box still lingered by the slightly open door - and the Xaela came to pull on Shunbai’s arm in order to roll him over. It took a bit of effort, they were strong. But this man was large.

“...pleeeaase, Shunbai… Enkh won’t go fishing with me! And Sebit is busy! Don’t make me go sit all on my own…” The pleading was turned up, just a little. In truth Bites would not mind fishing on their own, but the nocturnal habits of Shunbai means it had been a few suns since they last hung out. And that would simply not stand.

Bites would lean against the bed, their grin visible, flashing fangs that had dug into this man's flesh on more than one occasion (out of affection… or frustration). Those same fangs which were now poised by his arm, an eyebrow raised up, letting out a soft ‘Aah’ as if they were about to chomp down upon his scaled shoulder - it was one way of waking someone up. They were nicknamed Bites for a reason.

Squinting eyes glared at Bites now, lips pulled back over fangs as he gave another grumble.

“....fine.”

Bites jumped back up to stand with a wiggle of their tail, fluffy hair bobbing as fangs were hidden behind a big smile. They would never bite their friend to wake them up, no. That’s just cruel.

“Yes! Get changed! C’mon! I brought you a rod, whoever catches the most fish doesn’t have to cook them!”

Feet scampered to scoop up the fishing rods and head back towards the door, grabbing the bait box. They would give him some privacy, at least, in getting up and changed. Some.

Bites would appear back around the door on occasion to make sure Shunbai was actually getting up and making an effort to get changed, before slinking back around the doorframe once they were satisfied he was moving.

They’d make the early ‘morning’ up to him.

Probably

ft. Shunbai @shadesofblades prompt picked by coffee also!

#ffxivwrite2024 #ffxiv writing #// of histories and mysteries; ffxivwrite 2024 #// my writing; prompts and stories #I had this ready since I knew it was gonna be a free day fuckin fight me

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angelicyouth · 1 year ago

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Youth ; Chapter 15

⇢ pairing: kenny mccormick x marsh!reader x craig tucker

⇢ synopsis: ❝Growing up with the boys as the sole girl of the group, it was only natural for them to grow protective over their pseudo-little sister as the years went by.❞

⇢ [AO3 link] ; [series masterlist] ; [previous] ; [next]

The shrill sound of the telephone wakes up the sleep deprived group of teens slouching in on each other for more comfort. The rickety chairs that have been more or less their tentative homes in the recent days squeak and groan at every movement of their too-large bodies as they shift to forced consciousness.

Their bleary eyes scream at them when they fight off the last dregs of sleep desperately begging to bring them back into its embrace, the glowing numbers of the clock hanging on the wall announcing to them that the time is now currently 2:48AM. Tired hands come up to their faces, languid in its motion as it takes a couple of times to direct the appendage to wipe at their sleep encrusted eyes when it repeatedly misses its intended target.

Hearing the muffled words coming in through the transparent window separating the boys from the detectives at their desks, Stan immediately shoots up in his seat when he hears my name being tossed around. He shushes the tired groaning of the others, bringing a hand up as a nonverbal command to keep their bodies still.

Results.

Phone tracking.

Location.

Now.

This is the last thing the elder Marsh hears before he clumsily heaves his body up, hands blindly reaching for his jacket to throw onto his rushing form as he runs out of the double doors leading to the outside world of the police department.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

A sea of luxurious silk linen lightly caresses every curve of my body, the softness of the mattress surrounding my form as I lay in the depths of its smooth embrace. I’m seated upright in the temporary fortress that I’ve woken up in since the day of my abduction—a four poster queen sized bed with a canopy of gentle white, the soft material cascading down into billowing curtains over the metal rods that support the structure.

Shackled around my ankles are a cool metal, heavy in its weight and linked to the bedposts at the base of the two rods in front of me. Higher above the swollen, red skin that’s been uncomfortably chaffed into tenderness from my confines is nothing but a babydoll dress made up of black lace adorning my frame.

To erase anything from your old life, they had said.

Sick pervert, I had thought back in discontent.

My wrists are currently screaming in searing pain, the bones that make up my non-dominant hand dislocated and mangled beyond belief as I forcibly slip it free from the rough texture of the ropes that bind them together. I will myself with all of my might to not pass out from my self-inflicted agony as my head becomes increasingly light, the mounting dizziness forcing black spots to teeter into the edge of peripherals.

Body trembling from the excruciating torment, I can feel my perspiration begin to lightly bead against my hairline as I force my shaking hands to bring the thick cord back around my wrist to keep up the illusion of detainment. My throat tightens around itself as I force the bile that threatens to come out back down from the burning feeling. I try to focus on the distinctive, copper taste that my teeth invokes from my lip in an effort to discourage any sounds from escaping my mouth.

I curse inside my head when the door to the room opens up, my perpetrator perching themself down onto the length of the bed in front of me. Their added weight makes my body lean closer to theirs, the slight shift of my faux bonded hands behind my back making me want to scream into oblivion. In stark contrast to the binds that keep me in place, their touch is gentle as they carefully bring the metal edge of a spoon towards my lips, silently urging me to take in a mouthful of food.

My head stays slightly lowered in submission, my eyes never making eye contact when a few seconds pass by with no movement on either end. I don’t even flinch when my captor predictably loses their temper at my disobedience, the piping hot bowl of soup getting thrown at the nearest wall when I refuse to eat.

As always, my assailant will become violently upset when I don’t part my mouth for any sort of nutrition they try to provide me with and I wonder when it will inevitably turn into their seething appendages against my flesh. My eyes don’t waver from its unrelenting focus onto a particular spot on the blanket covering the bed as they loudly curse to themself at my predictive unwillingness to cooperate, their thundering footsteps echoing out into the hallways before they come back to clean up the mess they have made.

Investing their time into bringing the room back to its orderly state allows them enough moments to calm down before they resume their undivided attention to my still form, their body settling back down onto their previous position from before their little tantrum. A warm yet damp washcloth glides over my smooth skin, running along the droplets of stew that became a casualty in its demise as my perpetrator’s hands softly tend to me.

“... I’m sorry you had to see me like that. You know that I just care about you, right? I wouldn’t ever hurt you. It only worries me when you don’t eat.” Their voice is hushed in the otherwise quiet room and my mouth remains shut.

I have not deemed my captor worthy of my voice for anything unnecessary since the kidnapping and they routinely sigh at my expected muteness, their larger hand coming up to lightly cradle my cheek when my skin is deemed soup-free. I’ve been extremely selective with what I say, the rare times my lips part to let out my thoughts are when I ask them to let me talk to or see my friends and family—nothing more.

My throat is sore from disuse and my refusal to drink even a bit of water. I don’t even allow myself the short respite of sleep because if I do, the waking world will greet me with severe disorientation and a panic attack when my eyes settle onto my unknown location. I didn’t need my captor rushing into the room from my distressed cries and screaming to comfort me, not wanting a repeat of the first time it happened. The less contact with each other, the better.

My assailant’s thumb is almost nonexistent, my brain not registering the carefully gentle movements as they attempt to soothe the soft skin of my cheek as I begin to disassociate. “You haven’t eaten anything since you’ve came and you don’t talk to me. I’m just trying to help you, you know? You’re safer here and I can give you anything you want, Y/N… I can make you happy.”

Better than most situations, yes.

But it was still disgusting, to be frank.

Almost vile.

Sickening.

Granted, my perpetrator didn’t mistreat me in any way or intentionally inflict any abuse either physically or psychologically onto my person. But, their sick delusions in keeping me locked up for their own selfishness made me sick to my stomach—the obsession this person harbored that grew until they couldn’t hold themselves back any longer when they saw me alone at the parking lot.

The one, rare moment that I wasn’t seen with any of the boys and they jumped at the opportunity. Just thinking about it brings up the nauseating question: how long have they been closely watching me to seize such an infrequent occasion?

There’s a stretch of silence between the two of us before they sigh in defeat from my unwavering stubbornness and I try my absolute hardest to refrain from sneering in disgust when they plant a gentle kiss onto my forehead. My jaw tightly clenches and my eyebrows crease together as I feel my anger manifest into the physical remnants of tears beginning to thinly coat my eyes in frustration.

I count it as a small victory when nothing escapes from my eyes—they didn’t deserve my tears.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

It’s a whole operation, one with full combat gear and everything. Exhilaration fills everybody’s system as they follow the glaring colors of red and blue sitting on top of the multitude of police cruisers rushing down the desolate streets of South Park.

It’s quiet in the car, the teens forgoing the sound of music in exchange of the wailing sirens from the Tactical Response automobiles that they closely keep their eyes on. The prospect of finally getting their missing member back fills every pore in their body with a nervous thrum of anticipation, hands trembling on their seated laps in bottled up energy as they come across a swarm of officers exchanging words and talking into radios behind the police tape.

When the boys unload the two vehicles that they all crammed into, they’re predictably denied entry from getting closer to the site as they were deemed unauthorized personnel. They instead take the time to take in their surroundings and from mere observation, it seems that the signal they traced from the phone call brought them to an industrial block close to seemingly nowhere.

Most of the buildings seemed to be factories and warehouses, almost eerily abandoned from the husks of cement that encloses them. The windows adorning the stretch of structures are eerily dark, resembling the empty eye sockets of a person in its lifelessness.

Kyle subtly motions his head in the direction of the surveillance van that is heavily armored and the group catches his nonverbal cue as they pretend to leisurely check out the area in order to bring their bodies closer. From their position, they can see an abundance of green-tinged surveillance screens and a multitude of unfamiliar electronics that flash LED lights.

Interlaced with the humming and whirring of the electrical devices, they can hear a detective murmuring directions into their mouthpiece as they keep their eyes glued to a live feed of one of the helmets of the men inside. The night vision of the cameras give the screens beyond the mess of wires and cables a green hue, looking similar to the ones you’d see in ghost documentaries or horror movies.

Suddenly, words become more rushed and frantic as fingers rapidly begin to dance along the keyboards stationed inside the array of devices, the boys instantly surging into impulsive action when they hear the words: getting away.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

My lack of clothing causes goosebumps to arise all over my body as it hits the cold Colorado air, my perpetrator hastily shoving me into an unmarked van in an attempt to put distance between us and the frenzy of law enforcement that steadily gets louder as they approach our location. Curses cut through the air of anxiety ridden breathing when we suddenly hear loud footsteps, a foreign body suddenly tackling my assailant from behind.

Taking this opportunity of transferred attention, I finally cease my charade of faux restraint as I push the tangle of bodies away from me to run in the opposite direction and take cover to the closest area. The sound of scuffling continues with the added noise of yells so I keep my body hidden in a mixture of nervous anxiety, not wanting this sliver of hope to diminish if I were to be seen.

My body curves in on itself as I crouch as low to the ground as I can while my hands cover my ears, shaking fingers curling over my unwashed hair as I pray that no one finds me. I force myself to pay attention to the pieces of gravel painfully digging into my bare feet while I try to regulate my breathing, my body hunching in on itself even further to insulate more heat.

It isn’t until the sounds of grunts and fists making contact with flesh come to a stop that I chance a peek over the broken rubble of what was possibly a wall long ago. My eyes widen in surprise when I see that my boys have come to my rescue, covered in an array of both cuts and bruises with their chests rapidly heaving up and down from exertion.

The moment of elation immediately turns into dread when I see that my captor has unfortunately obtained a new hostage in my absence, the air thick with newfound tension. Butters winces at the tightening arms locked around him, his hands shooting upwards to soothe the exerted force of the headlock he’s in.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Adrenaline starts to pump through my veins as I try to desperately rack my brain for any ideas on what to do when something catches my eyes. The reflection of moonlight creates a glare over its shiny cover, the item that piqued my interest under stray pieces of rubble. I silently make my way to the object and feel the corner of my lips quirk up when I’ve identified the heavy steel as a compact handgun—a fully functioning glock that must’ve been knocked away during the altercation minutes ago.

I would say that I’m pretty adept with using the weapon—my Uncle Jimbo having taught my brother and I at a young age whenever he took us out to spontaneous camping trips as a sport, but most importantly to teach us a decidedly lethal form of self defense. He began to take us to shooting ranges instead, however, when our combined stubbornness caused us to refuse the purposeful harm of inflicting wounds on innocent animals.

I step out of the concrete camouflaging my body to reveal myself, my face devoid of any expression and my voice flat yet loud. “Let him go.”

“Y/N!” All of the boys exclaim in relief when they spot me but I don’t acknowledge any of them, refusing to look away from my target for even just a second to allow them an opportunity of escape.

My perpetrator’s eyes widen behind the material concealing their identity when they land on my form, a black ski mask with just a large oval cut out of it for their vision. They laugh, irritatingly confident with fake assurance of our time together.

“Come on, babe. You wouldn’t shoot me. Now be a good girl and come back here so I can let your little friend go.”

I let a few beats of silence go by and when time proves that they won’t relent, I tiredly close my eyes.

Breathe in, and out.

Concentrate.

My chest rises up as I inhale a deep yet steady breath to bring clarity into my mind, my neck leisurely rolling my head around before I grant myself my vision back and focus. Steadily bringing my arms up into the stance deeply ingrained into my body from my adolescence, my fingers take off the safety to pull the trigger and shoot.

The sudden onslaught of meticulously thought out bullets causes my assailant to drop Butters in their surprise, but none of the shots I take pierce at their skin. I only have the metal pieces graze at the fluttering material of their clothes in warning and the outline of their body in an effort to intimidate them. I walk forward with confidence, expertly dropping the first magazine and quickly reloading it as I let muscle memory take over.

In my ruthless shooting, I don’t take notice of Kyle whacking both Craig and Kenny behind their heads in admonishment when their lips slightly part at the sight of me in awe. Deep vermillion shades their cheeks despite the situation, their hands distractedly coming up to pat Butters in reassurance when the blonde hastily makes his way back to the group.

My eyebrows don’t even furrow in my unwavering concentration, my face apathetically blank as I finally stand in front of my disguised perpetrator. The conservative amount of openings on their mask doesn’t provide much but the sight of their eyes is all I need to know that their body is racked with fear.

Without breaking eye contact, I reach into the front pocket of their flannel shirt to lightly graze my fingers against the box of cigarettes that I know is almost permanently etched in there. Bringing a stick up to my lips, I light it up with the lighter kept in the box for convenience and languidly inhale the toxic fumes until it fills up my lungs.

Tendrils of smoke begins to slowly leak from my mouth before I mockingly blow a stream of it onto my assailant's face, my eyes lazily trailing down when I see the growing pool of wetness that forms between the material of their shaking legs. The pungent smell of urine invades my nostrils from our close proximity and I cruelly smirk around the rolled-up nicotine, my hand bringing the pistol in between their eyes.

I slowly lift up my unoccupied hand, ignoring its screams for medical attention as I lightly graze the cheek of the person in front of me. Gently grasping the course material covering their face in between my fingers, I take my time in lifting it further up and away from their head.

The boys behind me suck in a sharp breath when it’s finally revealed that it was none other than the teen that approached me at North Park Funland’s food court when I was waiting for the guys to grab lunch.

“What the fuck?” Someone exclaims from behind me in a mixture of confusion and exasperation, desperately grasping onto the faint remnants of memories that contain the face in front of us.

Pressing the cool metal further against his skin in threat aides him to nervously speak up, his mind running at a million miles per hour as he answers the unprompted questions in all of our heads.

“Don’t you recognize me, Y/N?” Despite the anxiety overcoming his body, there’s a manic grin that begins to stretch wide on his face yet I continue to keep my face devoid of any emotion.

He laughs and the sound of it makes everyone in its vicinity uncomfortable, the madness and hysteria in his tone sharply bleeding through his vocal chords. “See, this is why I took you. I bet you only remember me from the time I came up to you at the amusement park, huh? I went to North Park High with you, and I loved you. You never dated anyone so I thought you returned my affection too, just waiting for me to finally gather up the courage to speak to you.”

“… Holy shit.” A voice exclaims from behind me at the deranged confession.

“But before I could, you suddenly disappeared at the beginning of sophomore year. I was devastated, Y/N. How could you do that to someone who loves you? How could you do that to us? How could you just leave me so easily? When I finally saw you back at the amusement park at North Park, I thought you finally came back. I knew I had to talk to you when I took all of the times that I could have for granted but when I finally did, these bastards interrupted. They took you from me, Y/N.”

A shaky hand reaches forward in an attempt to caress my cheek but I just press the cool metal harder onto the skin of his face in wordless threat. “You understand, right, Y/N? That I had to do it, for us. They changed you—you weren’t like this last year so I knew it was all of their faults.”

My eyes apathetically blink slowly at the pleadings leaking out of the mouth in front of me, the glowing embers of my cigarette casting a warm light against the visage of the begging teen in front of me. The mixture of shades are reminiscent of the color I’d associate with the blazing pits of Hell, a place that’d be worthy of housing the pathetic figure in front of me.

“Just come with me, Y/N. I didn’t hurt you, right? I showed you that I could take care of you and I wasn’t lying when I said that I could make you happy. Come on, Y/N. Let’s go.” He offers me a placating smile, wobbly around the corners yet gentle all the same. But despite the soft way his lips curve around his cheeks and how his voice noticeably lightens when addressing me, the deranged undertone of his intentions cannot be ignored.

A beat of silence stretches on as everyone tentatively soaks up the onslaught of information, a whistle cutting through the area. “… What the actual fuck.”

“This guy is actually batshit insane.”

“More like pathetically delusional.”

“You sick fuck! I swear I’ll bash your fucking head in!”

“N/N! Back up before he tries to do something!”

In answer to everything and everyone, my wrist fluidly turns the object in my hand around to harshly slam the butt of the gun onto his face. When his hands shoot up to nurse the blood streaming down from his now crooked nose, I pounce on his larger form and begin my assault on his face with my relentless fists.

There’s a small quirk to my lips when I hear the satisfying sound of his bone crunching underneath my knuckles, the voice below me just begging for reprieve. The point of contact between the both of us that I know will inflict a world of hurt causes an overwhelming sense of euphoria, the body trembling underneath me in both unadulterated fear and absolute pain.

For the first time in days, I feel good.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

My revenge didn’t get as far as I would have liked it before a cacophony of panicked voices fill the air at my merciless revenge, arms settling themselves over my waist as they heft my body away from my assailant. When the distance between us steadily grows, I take petty satisfaction in spitting at the vivid reds and deep purples beginning to bloom in a sea of blood.

When my cigarette is but a slowly diminishing roach, my hands flail to extinguish the flame onto the skin of his face. I struggle for a bit as a scream of anguish rips out of the gurgle of blood in his throat but my quick attempt as a last resort of revenge proves to be fatal when my perpetrator quickly grabs onto my mangled wrist.

I yell in excruciating pain as they purposefully exert force in the hold that they have over me, knowledgeable of the tender skin laying underneath their grip and using it to their advantage. Their unoccupied hand hurriedly reaches into the denim of the back pocket of their jeans, the arms wrapped around me frantically trying to pull me further away as I desperately try to wrench back my screaming wrist.

Their efforts prove to be successful as if in slow motion, a syringe filled with a sickly green gets brandished before they try to stab the thin metal into the expanse of skin onto the arms wrapped around me. I can physically feel the color drain from my face when I can feel a slight pinch in my skin come from the needle being ruthlessly jammed into my arm in its haste, my veins beginning to feel like they’re burning as he mistakenly injects me with a foreign liquid.

My body immediately falls limp like a puppet whose strings got cut off at the unknown intrusion, the other boys quickly tackling my assailant to properly hold him down. He begins to maniacally laugh as he eerily smiles at me, my eyes glassy and distant as I stare back. It’s like I have no control of my body, my mind desperately willing my fingers and toes to move, to do anything but all my attempts are otherwise unacknowledged by my body.

I can’t do anything as I fall onto the rough asphalt of the floor, pieces of gravel painfully digging into my exposed body as Tweek falls from my unexpected dead weight. The blond cushions the rest of my body as he cradles me in his lap, my head facing up into the dark sky from my new position.

There are no stars up above to provide me Craig’s gift of everlasting comfort, I realize.

Tweek’s shaking hands push my limp head to the crook of his elbow, my form draped across the safe solace of his lap as he adjusts my body for comfort. Slender fingers tremble as they try to clumsily push away the stray strands of hair that fell over my face, my sticky cheeks making it harder as silky locks are wet from the tears that were invoked when my assailant forcibly applied pressure to my self-mutilated wrist.

My body feels as if it’s alight in pure hell as every single cell in my body begins screaming at me, willing it to do anything to rid my system of this tortuous sensation. Tears begin to gather at the corner of my eyes, my vision glassy and unfocused at the pure agony that my nerves rapidly signal to my brain for some desperate help.

“Guys! GUYS!” In my silent suffering, I fail to notice the apprehension of my prior classmate as the boys begin to quickly gather around me at the sounds of Tweek’s frantic yelling.

His erratic fingers continue to desperately push away the locks of hair obscuring my vision, his chest quickly heaving up and down in panic as he takes in my state. “Ngh! She hasn’t moved since the guy injected her with something—she hasn’t even BLINKED!”

“What?!” Kenny roars in anger, not comprehending how the situation got even worse than it already was at the slight error on their part for not quickly capturing my perpetrator as soon as I started attacking.

“What the fuck did you do?! Fucking ANSWER ME!” My brother thunders out loud this time, but nobody can provide an explanation as they watch my terrifyingly still body.

Kenny shoves his way to where Tweek has me, the blonde getting roughly pushed aside as I’m forcibly transferred onto another lap, the new face revealing itself to be my blonde lover. His brows are furrowed in frustration and his normally crystal-like eyes have a thin film of cloudy tears around it, threatening to break free when he heaves a shaky breath out at seeing my unresponsive face.

“No. No, no, no. Princess?” His whisper is so feeble and weak, his normally confident and easygoing voice utterly distressed as he frantically scans my face for any detection of life.

“Come on, baby. Don’t do this to me, please. No more, I just got you back.” Shaky hands gently grasp at one of my shoulders, softly urging me to do something as his pleading voice transitions into feeble begging.

He lightly presses his forehead against my own, his fingers softly grasping onto my hair and twirling it around his fingers as an outlet to release his nervous energy. My body screams out at him but no one can hear me, my form as limp as ever and still burning. However, Kenny’s arms wrapped around me so securely after so long apart causes a bit of relief from my own internal torment.

He can’t help the sob that shakes his entire body at its sheer magnitude when I don’t respond to his familiar touch or the soothing cadence of his voice like I usually do after minutes of trying. The blonde’s breathing becomes increasingly panicked, every inhale and exhale of his chest shaking my own form as he cradles me against his clothed one.

“Always and forever, remember? You can’t leave me now. We’re supposed to get old and grey and when our lives are almost done, you’re supposed to grin and turn to me and Tucker and tell us all about how much fucking fun you had.” His voice comes out in broken whispers, almost becoming delirious from his haywire emotions in its rawness and how utterly torn it sounded.

As ironic as it is, up until this moment the blonde truly thought he knew death. Dying as often as he did, Kenny figured that it could never get worse after all of his gruesome experiences with it. But it never quite prepared him to consider the other perspective of it, to watch someone else pass and the foreign emotions that came with this new territory. He’s lost his limbs, even his own heart, but he has never felt such a loss like this in his entire life.

In the privacy of the darkness that overtakes his room with nightfall, he would consume a conspicuous amount of alcohol and drugs in order to numb the pain of constantly dying. But after the discovery that I’d remember if he left, he realized that he didn’t need all of that anymore when he knew that someone was expecting him back. That sole moment of discovery was an absolute dream come true because Kenny absolutely hated dying, the way the hurt never got better and how it made him feel so forgettable and insignificant.

It was the reason he opted to take home economics in elementary school instead of the shop class filled with sharp material and dangerous equipment with the rest of the boys. It was the reason he chose to be a fucking princess in their fantasy role-playing game, wanting to be the one who got saved for once in his life from his intimate relationship with death and his time as Mysterion, the superhero who rescued others.

Because he never understood—who saved him while he always saved everyone else?

But at this very moment, he thinks about how he’d gladly take my place if it meant seeing my smile again. Despite how much he grew up absolutely dreading the familiar emptiness that came whenever he woke up to the water-stained ceiling of his bedroom. Regardless of the way the people he held so dearly to him acted so normal when he came back, as if something wasn’t amiss despite their swollen red eyes or the lingering smell of alcohol on Stan’s breath.

Because to Kenny, the blonde saw the heavens every single time my lips curved in happiness. And he didn’t want to lose the one good in his unfortunate life full of poverty provided by his deadbeat parents.

Not now, not ever. Not when there was still a promise of always and forever.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

Red locks suddenly appear in my peripherals, a large hand going over my chest as Kyle leans his head closer to my still body. After a few seconds, he places his fingers on the pulse of my neck and wrist before ultimately placing a finger in front of my nose.

“… There’s no sign of breathing.” It feels like a cold bucket of water drenches my body at the curly haired teen's whispered words, my mind screaming that no, I’m still alive.

“How the—but she was just… Is she dead..?! Please don't tell me she's dead.” Clyde’s panic-stricken voice wobbly sounds out from somewhere to my left, the boys yelling out shocked expletives at Kyle’s solemn announcement.

“There’s just no way. Try again, Kyle. Please.”

“No. No, no, no. Not her. Please, not N/N.”

“Are you sure you checked correctly? Maybe it’s faint, check the pulse on her neck or wrist again!”

“How..? She was just breathing.”

All variations of false hope, all coming to the same conclusions no matter who checks and how. Stan doesn’t relent in his desperate attempts, determined to hear the sound that belongs to the other half of him.

It just didn't make any sense, it couldn’t even register in his mind despite everyone’s efforts and their repeated confirmation. I’ve always been there with him. Who was Stan Marsh if not the twin of Y/N?

My heartbeat is all that he's ever known, the one thing he’s so sure of in a universe filled to the brim with the undiscovered. It’s something that he's so in tune with—he knew the exact beats of it and could recognize the warmth of it whenever he was near me. But right now as I lay still with my eyes wide and glassy, it was like listening to deafening static and hoping for nothing.

I would’ve jolted if I had control of my limbs as an agonized scream sharply cuts through the air, my brother’s voice full of anguish at the reveal. “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!”

“You better speak the fuck up or I swear to fucking God that you’ll wish the police got to you before we did.” Craig’s monotonous voice rings out from somewhere to my side, my screaming brain wailing out to my raven-haired lover because I feel scared even in the comforting presence of the others.

I hear something loudly make contact with the ground, my perpetrator grunting a little further away. “FUCKING DO SOMETHING! YOU WANTED US, RIGHT? NOT HER! YOU WANTED TO MAKE HER HAPPY YET YOU STILL DID THIS TO HER! TAKE ME INSTEAD!”

In the quietness of the night, so soft that it’s almost hard to hear he speaks again. “Please. Please, just take me instead.”

The raw pain colored in Craig’s voice hurts my apparently unbeating heart even more, his voice breaking apart as it dissolves into a small plea at the end of his sentence in unadulterated desperation. A drop of liquid falls onto my face as he threatens the teen and my eyes shift up to see Kenny softly weeping over me, the sight making my heart feel like it's breaking into a million pieces as I desperately wish to just reach out and soothe the weeping boy.

Nobody says anything, the sound of sobbing and sniffling the only thing filling the air.

When the blonde pulls me closer to his chest in order to bring my limp body into a tight hug, the slight alteration to my position allows me to see Craig as he takes a few quick strides to where he threw my assailant. The groaning teen begins to cry out in pain when the ravenette intentionally grabs him by the shoulder where a deep crimson begins to bleed through his jacket.

“FUCK YOU, you sick fuck. I can’t believe you’d kill someone you claim to love. If you make it out of this alive, just remember: when you killed her, you didn’t kill just one person.” He raises his fist and roughly slams it against the already battered visage of the bleary eyed teen in front of him, quickly lifting his curled fist to deliver repeated punches again and again.

He laughs but it’s devoid of any emotion. Yet it’s somehow ruthlessly cruel in its emptiness and hollow in its hurt.

“Never get too attached to anyone, dipshit. Unless they also feel the same way towards you. Because one-sided expectations can mentally destroy you. Well... I guess it’s too late for that, you crazy fuck.” Craig cuts off the boy begging for mercy or for any sort of undeserved reprieve as he kicks him down onto the ground, pressing a knee onto his chest as he scoffs at the delivery of his too-late advice.

He exerts as much of his weight onto the wheezing body in front of him, the struggling teen spitting out the onslaught of blood that pours into his cut lips from his broken nose. His hands clumsily shoots out to try to relent some of the pressure from the ravenette’s knee as a large hand reaches for his hair to harshly slam his head onto the ground.

My unnamed assailant frantically begins to yelp, his voice raspy as he tries to force out the words from his throat. “Stop, STOP! She’s alive, okay?! Just let me go and I’ll do something.”

Kyle backs away from me and I feel the tears begin to leak out from the corner of my eyes quicker than when I was in pain and I know that my body would have been absolutely sobbing in distress if I could move. The diminishing presence of the boys around me causes my brain to go into a frenzy of panic, desperate to be heard from the others and to keep their comforting presences with me.

Already overwhelmed with the ongoing pain coursing throughout my body, the additional panic of the boys losing hope wills myself to open my mouth to yell out for them. When nothing works, I curse at the fact that my eyes were left open because now I just wanted to block everything out—for everything to be over with. Whatever was injected into my body was killing me and I could feel it.

It’s as if whatever higher deity is up there finally answers my prayers as tufts of silky blonde hair enters my vision from the corner of my eyes, Butters expression filled with melancholy as he scans my face. He brings a hand up to the skin of my cheeks, his touch so soft that it almost feels nonexistent. He lightly skims his fingers over the expanse he has access to and when they creep towards my damp eyelashes, his hand stills from their gentle ministrations.

His eyebrows furrow, his voice soft in its disbelief as he speaks up. “She’s crying.”

“What?” Tolkien approaches my view, his own expression tensely mirroring the blondes in his well-deserved skepticism. He carefully watches as Butters brings up the soft material that makes up the sleeves of his jacket to gently dab at my eyes, the area not staying dry for long before my tears immediately resurface.

“Holy shit, she’s crying.” He echoes out in confirmation, a mixture of bewilderment and confusion painting his words.

A beat of silence tells me that they’re all looking at the previously masked teen for answers, the boy speaking up at their expectant faces when the sound of a fist meeting skin sounds out through the air. “Fuck! I told you, it’d be a slow and painful death. She’s not dead, yet. She’s still alive, I can do something if you just let me.”

“No fucking way! We can't trust him!” Cartman barks out to the group in caution, a sneer deeply curled onto his face as he stares down at the beaten teen.

Butters immediately starts sobbing at my lifeless face, the salty tears that are escaping his eyes begin to gently drop down his face until they meet the already damp skin of my own. He’s frantic in trying to catch every drop that trails down from my own orbs, his aim not that accurate due to his shaky hands.

“Fellas! FELLAS!” The blonde musters up what little of his strength he has left as he yells over the boys arguing, effectively cutting off the voices fighting over our heads.

“We have to help her. We have to. She’s my little sister, I can’t lose her.” He hysterically babbles, his frantic speech making it hard to make out his words.

“Butters, calm the fuck down.” A hand tries to placate him by laying itself on one of his shoulders, the blonde venomous as he urges everyone to just listen as he sharply slaps away the comforting touch.

Although hope was beginning to form due to Butters’ efforts, the pain coursing my veins was starting to change, feeling like something within me was ominously shifting. While everything still hurt, my senses were beginning to gradually fade as my body began to give up its fight. Everything around me felt like it was getting duller, my brain slowly starting to not register the feeling of Butters’ fingers against my face and the surrounding voices of the others.

“We can’t trust him! He can’t do anything, he’s just fucking lying again! He’s deceived us once and he's just going to do it another time. She’s GONE! He can't bring her back!” Cartman impatiently tries to yell some sense into the boys, everyone lost on what to do and sharing conflicted looks with one another.

“Let him go. Do it.” Stan decidedly breaks the silence, tensely forcing his demand out through gritted teeth as he vehemently glares at my assailant.

I felt so… gone.

But my brother knew he had to take the chance, however small and uncertain it may be. He had promised and he was going to do whatever he was capable of doing at this moment to keep it. Every time he was there, he always told me that I’d be safe and he’d be damned if he turned his back on his baby sister. Because if there was even a chance, a small sliver of hope that I was still alive…

“He might be lying, Stan…” Kyle shakes his head, a pained expression crossing his face as he whispered logically to the furiously demanding teen.

“DO IT! I’M NOT FUCKING AROUND, FUCKING FIX HER!” His scream pierces through the air, a few of the boy’s bodies jumping slightly at the sheer volume of his distressed voice. He ignores his best friend’s reasoning, not even sparing a moment to acknowledge that his emotions may be irrationally controlling the decisions he’s making.

No one moves for a moment, everyone warily eyeing each other. Cartman furrows his eyebrows and takes a step forward before Kyle stops him. “If you do this and something happens, it’s on you. Would you be able to live with your conscience if nothing happens to N/N and he’s able to get away?”

“It’s a chance that I’m willing to take, Kyle. Don’t fucking question me, this is my fucking sister.” Stan impatiently snaps at the curly haired teen, the redhead glaring back at the bleached blonde from the insinuation of his words.

“Don’t fucking play with me, Marsh. She’s my little sister, too.” He bitterly bites back as he roughly pushes past the sneering teen and grabs the discarded gun from the floor before kneeling down, freeing my perpetrator from the thick rope the boys used to crudely detain him with.

Kyle threateningly points the heavy metal towards his head, the other boys closely watching to see if he’ll flee as their bodies tense on the chance that they may have to jump into action. My captor grabs something from the unmarked vehicle, his hands nervously shaking as he brings another syringe out to imbed into my skin. The boys all collectively flinch when they watch the long needle trespass against my arm, their breaths baited as they tensely observe from the crowd formed around me.

The second the liquid enters my system, it’s as if my body got released from the paralysis keeping me shackled in its silent hold. Only one deep breath gets heaved out before I let out a bloodcurdling scream to vocalize the intense agony I’ve been feeling all this time.

Shocked, the boys didn’t know what to do as they watched in muted horror as I begin to scream bloody murder on Kenny’s lap. They just kind of expected me to wake up, never having guessed that they’d be presented with the painful image of my back contorting to an exaggerated arch and my limbs violently flailing everywhere.

My sobs begin to combine with my torturous screaming, my hands failing multiple times before they’re able to grab onto the material adorning Kenny’s frame as I shake his still body. “MAKE IT STOP!”

The screeching finally prompts him into action as his hands attempt to restrain my thrashing body, my chest painfully heaving as I blabber nonsense to anyone listening through my thick tears. All the boys could do was cry at the sight, feeling useless and frustrated as a few of them join us on the ground to assist the blonde in keeping me still.

From upside down my vision, Craig gently but firmly grabs onto my cheeks to still my flailing head as he presses his soft lips onto my skin to speak against my forehead. “Shh, I’m here, babe. It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

All the boys let out their own shaky variations of both verbal or physical assurance and comfort yet nothing changes. Clyde hysterically sobs, turning his face from where it was nestled into my neck to beg at the teen who administered my pain. “STOP THIS!

He glares at my former classmate without breaking contact with me, the teen looking sheepish as he averts his gaze from the deathly looks of the group of teens. His voice is low and meek as he mumbles to the others, “... Her body’s been getting tortured like this since the moment the liquid entered her system. It’s just that now, she's finally able to physically and verbally react to it.”

Everyone feels their entire guts plummet at the information revealed to them, my body beginning to weakly curl in on itself as my screams fade away to loud sobs. They’re speechless at the fact that I’ve felt like this the entire time, all of them ignorant to my silent pain and for thinking I was already dead.

“I’m going to fucking kill you.” Kenny vehemently seethes from where his own body is wrapped around my own in an attempt to comfort my relentless weeping, his form shaking in unbridled rage.

My whole body twitches and throbs before the pain manifests itself into bile forcibly exiting my mouth, my delirium unable to put a name to the voices and hands trying to soothe me. Whatever happened with the second dose made my eyes heavy with fatigue, my head going eerily limp from the sudden decrease in energy.

“Stay with me, okay, beautiful? It’s over now, you just need to stay awake with me. We’re going to keep you safe.”

But I was too tired, too filled with pain, and too weak to keep the promise of the comforting voice. I could feel gentle fingers stroking my cheeks, soft kisses placed against the skin of my face, and both of my hands in someone else's grip.

“Come on, baby. You can do this. Stay with me.”

The sounds around me gently morph into an orchestra of panic but all I can do is lightly smile at the cacophony of hysterical noise as the warmth from everyone comfortingly surrounds my whole body to rest.

・ ─ ・ ⋯ ・ ─ ⊹ ♡₊˚๑

My parents had offered to drop my brother and I off to school, the both of them pulling Stan aside to exchange a few hushed words as I patiently wait along the pavement of the frosted sidewalk. I vibrate in place as I wait for Stan, excited to finally be away from the sterile, white confines of the hospital walls.

Once their conversation concludes, he walks the short distance between us as he intertwines our fingers together, his moving feet leading me along the almost desolate hallways of the school. His body is slightly ahead of my smaller one, as if shielding me from anything that we could possibly come across and I just softly smile at his ridiculous yet endearing overprotectiveness.

I unconsciously shrink in only myself before he notices and shoots me a comforting look, his supportive smile making me stand a little bit taller in confidence before he pushes the heavy wooden door to our first class of the day–homeroom. My eyes flicker from side to side, slightly widening as I take in my surroundings to look at the faces around me in a mixture of both anxiety and excitement.

Not paying much attention, I fail to notice that my brother has stopped walking as my body softly runs into the thick material of the jacket that adorns the back of his body. I lightly giggle at my clumsiness, my inattentiveness making the both of us grin as he begins to slightly pull our interlocked hands to bring my form a little forward.

The expression on his face is soft as he lightly smiles down at me as a form of reassurance, his eyes taking the time to run along my face to take note of any signs of discomfort. Once satisfied after nothing sets off his instincts, I offer a soft grin of my own when my brother brings my attention to the group of teenage boys gathered in front of us.

They’re all in varying stances, some perched onto the seats of their desks while a few lean against the table top of the hard structure to be in closer proximity with their friends before the school day starts. My face slightly angles downward towards the linoleum floor when I notice that all of their expectant gazes are carefully watching me, nervous energy reverberating from their bodies in barely contained energy.

Of what, I’m not quite sure as my eyes look back to search for ones identical to my own in encouragement as the nervous thrum begins to run along my veins at their attentive stares. My brother’s voice is patient when he speaks up, soft in between the contrasting air of chattering students surrounding all of our bodies.

“N/N. Do you remember any of them..?”

My body seeks refuge from the intense gazes of everyone as I slightly retreat to hide half of my face behind Stan’s clothed arm, my hands clenching around the ones in my hold in anxiety. I shake my head, the nonverbal answer knocking the bated breaths out of the group of teen’s bodies in a mixture of evident disappointment and apparent anguish.

There’s an apologetic expression on my face as I whisper honestly to my brother.

“No.”

#south park #south park x reader #kenny mccormick x reader #craig tucker x reader #kenny mccormick #craig tucker #south park fanfiction #lalawrites

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voltstone · 10 months ago

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Bottom Bunk (Dianakko One-Shot)

With another Samhain Festival celebrated and slept off, Atsuko Kagari finds her room empty of Sucy and Lotte. Yet, she feels the warmth of another girl in her bed. And so a conversation is to be had.

[828 Words] | [Last Edit: 7/22/2020] (Full One-Shot Post)

I blink awake to find Sucy’s bed empty, and the curtains drawn. The sun beams through the line of window that the curtains don’t cover, chopped evenly from the blinds. I look to the door, which is shut closed. As I lazily stare at the floorboards, I shiver and bring the sheets to my shoulders. I don’t hear Lotte’s usual twists and turns above me. They must’ve left alread—

I’m naked.

The warmth of my own body is flushed against skin, and it takes me a moment to realize that the skin against my back isn’t mine. She groans softly and tugs some of the sheets towards her side. Diana… I crane my neck over. Even with her curled so deeply in my sheets—which she is hogging—, my eyes follow the curve of her body. I can’t help but grin, though. And instead of stealing back some of the blankets (because, again, they're mine), I wrap my arms around her. Her mewl is quiet as I bury my head into her neck, closing my eyes back to a doze. I’m not cold anymore, with her. I’d argue I’m warmer than I would’ve been with all of the sheets and blankets…

I don’t know how or when I started liking Diana. Maybe I always did, kind of, or maybe after noticing bits and pieces of her as I got used to Luna Nova. I think I always have. And it was mutual. Sometimes we kissed when we studied. It wasn’t anything much, and it never made itself present in our talks afterwards. Sometimes, it was quick, and other times, we’d let each other explore a bit. Nothing too far, though I doubt either of us would have minded.

It just… It wasn’t something we ever spoke about, actually. Hell, I even kept it from Lotte and Sucy. At this point, they probably know about it, but I don’t really care.

Last night was amazing though. Diana was crowned the Moonlit Witch again… And what was I going to do about it? She looked beautiful. She looks so beautiful in white…

“Akko?”

I turned around, hands clasped to my biceps as Diana strode towards me. Our shadows flickered with every beat of the music, and the light-show at the after-party tents behind us. “Yeah?” I asked, awe-struck by the moonlit cloak and mesmerizing hat.

She watched me with a mute curiosity. “I knew you would be here. Is there a reason why you aren’t attending the party? You’ve spoke a lot about it before, and how it will take itself to the town and hotels…” Diana grows quiet as I smile at her. She tilts her head and asks, softly, “Why are you all by yourself?”

“I’m okay, Diana,” I murmured. “I’m just thinking.”

“Thinking?”

“Yeah, about the stars?” I point to the Big Dipper. “I wonder, you know? How it’s doing up there…if it’s lonely.”

Her eyes follow my hand. The Big Dipper is surrounded by millions upon billions upon trillions of its own kind. “The Shiny Rod, you mean?”

“Yeah… I just wonder if it gets lonely.” I sighed and held my arms as we stood in the middle of the vast grassy field. Together. “It’s easier being lonely alone than being lonely surrounded by people. There’s an obvious solution to it when you’re alone.”

“I thought you were talking about the stars, for a moment.”

I chuckled briefly, meeting her eyes. “I… Yeah, me too.”

She slipped off the hat and set it on my head, her arms falling onto my shoulders. “Are you lonely?”

“Not— Not with you,” I mumbled.

Diana nodded, then whispered, “Then I won’t leave.” Her kiss was delicate and reassuring. My heart throbbed with Diana, and I craved for more. More than our shared glances. More than our stolen, innocent touches. More than our study sessions. More than our quick hands underneath our shirts.

Within minutes, I was tugging her back inside, her gentle laughter following me all the way. We didn’t stop until we were at my dorm, sure that Sucy and Lotte were enjoying themselves at the festivities down in the town. We’d collapsed into my bottom bunk immediately, but sleep didn’t come until much later…

It was quite the amazing night.

I frown, my eyes still closed, as her soft hand brushes my cheek. I open them to find Diana watching me with the same light smile from last night. “Good morning, Akko,” she whispers quietly.

Returning her grin, I peck her lips instead and snuggle deeper into the bed. “Good morning,” I reply. Her nails scratch my shoulder in circles, and I can practically hear the gears working in her head. “What are you thinking about?”

“You,” she says honestly. “I…never did anything like that before.”

“Not even yourself?”

“A-Akko, that’s not what I meant.”

I grin as her blush creeps across her cheeks. “I know… Me neither.”

Diana watches the rails of the top bunk for a long moment. “There was a time,” she admits slowly, “a long, long time ago, when I wanted nothing to do with you. Isn’t that ridiculous?”

“Nah.” I laugh and say, “There’s plenty of times I want nothing to do with me too.” Diana arches her brow, so I mutter, “Well, I mean, I fuck up all the time. I mess everything up for everyone else, and I get banged-up a lot, and I’m a lousy student—”

“You’re everything I’m not despite all of that,” Diana murmurs. I shut myself up and listen. When she peels herself away to straddle me, her hands on either side of my shoulders, she says, “You do ‘fuck up’ a lot, but it never slows you down like you should. There’s been witches who have left the school, you know? I was about to be one of them, remember? But you’re not. You’re still a student, and you’ll grow up to be a beautiful witch.”

I swallow the knot in my throat. “You really think so?” I ask quietly.

She nods and captures my lips sweetly. “I do,” she breathes. I reply in kind, my arms hooked around her waist. When she breaks away, resting against the pillows, Diana’s eyes stare into mine. They’re deep. Ethereal. They reach into my heart and I let them. “Akko…”

“Yeah?”

“What…would you say if I wanted for you to be my companion?”

“Companion?”

“Y-Yes?”

I smirk cheekily. “You mean girlfriend?”

She frowns. “It’s the same thing!” she hisses sheepishly. “Companion…girlfriend… It doesn't—” Diana inhales as slowly as she exhales. “I want you to be my companion, Akko. Wherever it takes us, I want to be together. I promised you last night I wouldn’t leave you, and I don’t intend on breaking it, even when we’re physically apar— Are you crying?”

“Y-You ar-re a b-b-itch,” I sniff, whacking her with a bundle of sheets. “Y-Yes, I-I’m crying! W-Why’d you s-stop?!”

“Well, I don't want you to cry…” she grumbles, head burrowed into the thrown sheets.

“Diana.”

Her voice is muffled: “What?”

“A-Are you crying too…?”

Diana lifts her head, eyes glassy. “I don’t want you to cry when I’m trying to cough up the grit to ask you to be my companion, because…”

I hold her close, snickering in her ear. “Yes, Diana… Of course I’ll be your girlfriend.”

“Really?” I nod against her. She sits up to seal our promise with a kiss; her hands, too, roam languidly along my sides.

As she peppers my neck with fluttering pecks, I eye the door. “Diana?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you want to…er…feel the same thing we did last night again?”

Diana arches her brow and glances at the door. She purses her lips in thought. “I…believe we can.”

“Diana…” I murmur with a smile, pulling her close.

Her body is soft and warm against my own, and I forget how it feels to be lost amongst the array of stars, lonely. Last night is irreplaceable, and so will this morning, and so is Diana Cavendish.

#volt's library #little witch academia #lwa #diakko #dianakko #fanfiction #one-shot #ao3 #wattpad #akko kagari #atsuko kagari #diana cavendish #reposted from last account #if this looks familiar it's because i yoinked it from my last (dead) account #an older story but a lil nice one me thinks

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royalreef · 2 years ago

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@skytired inquired: “ who did this to you ? ” [ from Oz ] Injured - Accepting

She turned her head away. Miranda didn’t like the movement, didn’t like the way it felt with the muscles exposed, air pressing up against the wet and making it seem strangely cold. It made the bits of flesh, torn and exposed and dangling down in great strands like ripped fabric, sway and move and keep touching, keep rippling back and up her neck in sharp bursts of pain that grew and grew like fireworks going off beneath her skin.

There wasn’t an answer for Oz. There couldn’t be, though that was a line of thought that existed elsewhere, distended in time into some cast-off future that she would deal with when it came. When her front wasn’t patterned with dark red, near black in the low light, rippling like oil as she moved, as more flowed crimson and sweet from her tattered neck. All of that muscle, all of that scale, and there were still ways beneath it. Still ways to shred it apart, leave it opened not as a singular wound but as a long tapestry of sinew and muscle, struts of her neck vertebrae glimpsed as though curtain rods, her esophagus winding a pale serpentine shape beneath the moth-eaten flesh.

Time came and then didn’t come at all, sense existing solely in explosions of brief clarity that vanished as soon as Miranda remembered that it was only luck that she was still breathing, that she had not bled out in an instant. Her attacker had fled with the noise, with some witness entering, and that had done just enough to buy her time.

That was why she was on the ground, though Miranda would not have tested her hind legs and back regardless. That was why the curving forms of her claws had their sharp edges broken and shattered, left in the stitches of body armor that could be hidden beneath clothing. Her crown was somewhere, knocked off her head, and suddenly she was scared of leaving it behind far more than having half of her neck torn open and having been only a minute or so departed from getting decapitated in a store room. Somehow Miranda kept forgetting that she was bleeding, and being confused when she heard water falling somewhere.

The mind does funny things when confronted with its own mortality. The pain rose and fell and drowned out sense, leaving a swell of sensations in its wake that were stirred up from the depths and brought to froth without rhyme nor reason for their place amongst the floodwaters. Miranda didn’t want Oz to see her torn neck, her shredded body, the place where the familiar patterns of her scales dissolved into exposed bone cores and stringy tendon and the literal capability to see her own pulse through her veins. Embarrassment rose to the forefront, shame and dirtiness, like she had somehow exposed herself in front of him, flashed him some unsavory part of herself that she might get in trouble for later.

She tried closing her eyes. She tried to shake her head, to try and make some part of this stop without truly understanding which she was referring to, though she didn’t get that far with it, as it made the sheets of herself smack wetly in the open wound. She was still looking away, still trying to hide it. She wanted to back further into the corner she had been forced into, but she couldn’t move, her legs shaking hard beneath her.

Miranda could still talk. Physically. But she wasn’t going to, not when her breath was alien without her skin to hide it under.

#Glory and Gore || IC #Dreaded rumors || Asks #skytired #blood #gore #body horror #(( me staring at this ask #(( and then deciding to yet again test my gore chops just a lil-#(( i like. narsty.......

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admiringtheskies · 4 months ago

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okay wait, don't kill me y'all but hot take: this one seems genuinely a lot more fixable than a lot of the other mcmansions i've seen @mcmansionhell post? like i feel like most of the ones i've seen have been such beige nightmares, but this one i feel like could be aesthetically transformed quite well, actually. here's what i would do:

(tbc i'm talking purely about aesthetics here, yes i am aware that the inherent wastefulness of a mcmansion property like this would still be there but idk i feel like this one actually had a chance at being genuinely pretty so now i want to make it happen)

okay, so the shapes going on here are definitely ridiculous, but literally any landscaping at all would immediately make this look ten times more normal. those places where the grass curves into the asphalt are the perfect places to put flowerbeds or trees or whatever tf you want that's not just monoculture grass, and then adding a pool and a garden on the back would at least give the already deforested/ecologically destroyed space some utility — bonus points for making the garden either a fruit/vegetable garden, or a space for specifically native-to-the-area flowering plants. assuming you want to use this place as a big-ass family home, use the soul patch by planting the sapling of some kind of big tree that would be suited to the local climate right in the middle as a focal point that'll grow in over time and it's like a sentimental living growing heirloom (idk if this is feasible or if getting big trees like that to grow requires them to have more of other trees/an ecosystem around, i'm not actually a gardener/botanist/plant person, but i thought this was a cool idea for using that space so just let me dream pls)

2. okay this is what first got me, bc like,,, i feel like this actually has some potential to look nice? there's clearly some great (i think natural, from the windows) lighting in here, and it's NOT. ALL. BEIGE! if the wall paint was just less yellow-tinted, and you swapped out the furniture/accessories, i feel like you could totally make this look like just a bright, clean-looking, maybe kind of generically old-fashioned/vintage-y entryway? and again, for increasing the currently -2 utility of all this space, get (maybe a prettier version of) the current rug situation moved up towards the photographer a bit, to create ample walking room all around it, and then put some sort of really big circular dresser or credenza-ish kind of furniture on it, something with cabinets for people's shoes, umbrellas, basically just something that would serve most of the purpose of a front hallway closet. (especially because, as with many other excessively palatial mcmansions, this is the kind of place that would be absolutely amazing to repurpose into some sort of open-to-the-public community center, in an ideal world.)

3. okay yeah so the molding is absolutely irredeemable, but again, the amount of natural light and the light hardwood floors are actually a beautiful combination! personally i think you could totally style this wall color in a way that would create a nice soothing vibe, but hell, repaint it and style with more space-efficient seating options, and you could totally make this space work! (i will say though, that i would personally make replacing the curtain rods mandatory; even wooden ones could still work imo, but why tf would you not just match them with all the other dark wood? why would you match them with the light wood that's only used for the flooring?)

4. again, say goodbye to the molding, and also the weird flooring around the fireplace needs to go— but do that, coordinate the blues of the wall and the rug better, and then fix the furniture situation, and this would be a perfectly respectable study/office. also, this is just a personal preference thing, but i'm actually quite fond of those old-timey big dark wood furniture sets, so i do kind of love that desk, even if the placement of it is odd. also, running with the "turn this place into some sort of community center" idea, just keep this as the office of whoever runs the place, and there's plenty of room in here to add extra seating for meetings.

5. as i've already said, i do have a fondness for the old-fashioned rich look, so i wouldn't even really mind keeping the wallpaper and the big cabinet thing, as long as we can fix the impractical center curtains and simplify/get rid of the molding again. add a rug, just make sure it's a relatively minimalist design/color scheme to not compete with the wallpaper if we've kept that, and again with the community center idea, just get an even more fuckass-big table that fills the space, with simpler chairs that don't waste so much room, and boom, you've got a mini-dining hall.

6. okay, so this is a terribly illogical kitchen set-up, but a pot-filler on the stove would fix what i think is probably the biggest practical issue, and getting better properly-connected cabinets, and fixing the top of the island, would definitely make this entire room look much less weird. open concept kitchens are definitely inherently impractical, imo, but idk, some people genuinely like them, so...

oh and also i genuinely love the exposed brick in the house, just repaint the pale yellow and red walls to not compete with the brick so much.

okay i'm getting bored of this i'm not gonna do every picture now but:

6. this room makes absolutely no sense as a basketball court, yes, but you know what it WOULD work for? a dance studio! line the wall with the small windows at the top with floor-length mirroring, maybe a barre on the opposite wall, and you are SET. again, for a community center, all those other unused rooms could totally be similarly repurposed for different activities, small classrooms for educational programs, etc.

and then i already talked about what i'd do with the back of the house, so, yeah, that's my plan. there's gotta be at least one philanthropic millionaire on tumblr who could make this happen, right?

namesake mcmansion

Howdy folks! Today's McMansion is very special because a) we're returning to Maryland after a long time and b) because the street this McMansion is on is the same as my name. (It was not named after me.) Hence, it is my personal McMansion, which I guess is somewhat like when people used to by the name rights to stars even though it was pretty much a scam. (Shout out btw to my patron Andros who submitted this house to be roasted live on the McMansion Hell Patreon Livestream)

As far as namesake McMansions go, this one is pretty good in the sense that it is high up there on the ol' McMansion scale. Built in 2011, this psuedo-Georgian bad boy boasts 6 bedrooms and 9.5 baths, all totaling around 12,000 square feet. It'll run you 2.5 million which, safe to say, is exponentially larger than its namesake's net worth.

Now, 2011 was an anonymous year for home design, lingering in the dead period between the 2008 black hole and 2013 when the market started to actually, finally, steadily recover. As a result a lot of houses from this time basically look like 2000s McMansions but slightly less outrageous in order to quell recession-era shame.

I'm going to be so serious here and say that the crown molding in this room is a crime against architecture, a crime against what humankind is able to accomplish with mass produced millwork, and also a general affront to common sense. I hate it so much that the more I look at it the more angry I become and that's really not healthy for me so, moving on.

Actually, aside from the fake 2010s distressed polyester rug the rest of this room is literally, basically Windows 98 themed.

I feel like the era of massive, hefty sets of coordinated furniture are over. However, we're the one's actually missing out by not wanting this stuff because we will never see furniture made with real wood instead of various shades of MDF or particleboard ever again.

This is a top 10 on the scale of "least logical kitchen I've ever seen." It's as though the designers engineered this kitchen so that whoever's cooking has to take the most steps humanly possible.

Do you ever see a window configuration so obviously made up by window companies in the 1980s that you almost have to hand it to them? You're literally letting all that warmth from the fire just disappear. But whatever I guess it's fine since we basically just LARP fire now.

Feminism win because women's spaces are prioritized in a shared area or feminism loss because this is basically the bathroom vanity version of women be shopping? (It's the latter.)

I couldn't get to all of this house because there were literally over a hundred photos in the listing but there are so many spaces in here that are basically just half-empty voids, and if not that then actually, literally unfinished. It's giving recession. Anyway, now for the best part:

Not only is this the NBA Backrooms but it's also just a nonsensical basketball court. Tile floors? No lines? Just free balling in the void?

Oh, well I bet the rear exterior is totally normal.

Not to be all sincere about it but much like yours truly who has waited until the literal last second to post this McMansion, this house really is the epitome of hubris all around. Except the house's hubris is specific to this moment in time, a time when gas was like $2/gallon. It's climate hubris. It's a testimony to just how much energy the top 1% of income earners make compared to the rest of us. I have a single window unit. This house has four air conditioning condensers. That's before we get to the monoculture, pesticide-dependent lawn or the three car garage or the asphalt driveway or the roof that'll cost almost as much as the house to replace. We really did think it would all be endless. Oops.

If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including a discord server, extra posts, and livestreams.

Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar! Student loans just started back up!

#architecture #design #mcmansion #mcmansions #interior design #2010s #ugly houses #mcmansion hell #bad architecture #maryland #if you are wondering why i felt strongly enough about this to make this entire fucking post #with a target audience of literally 0 people... trust me #i wish i knew too lmao

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