#prompt: heart

[mjn-air]

The boy stood on the burning deck Whence all but he had fled His heart was in his mouth but, lo! His cap was on his head

[nilesdaughter]

La Mécanique du cœur

Fandom: Critical Role Characters: Percy De Rolo, Vex'ahlia, Anna Ripley, Vax'ildan, Keyleth of the Air Ashari, Pike Trickfoot, Trinket (Mention), Syldor (Mention), Saundor (Mention), Scanlan Shorthalt (Mention) Pairing: Perc'ahlia Word Count: 3,017 Note: Here's the "Jack and the Cuckoo-Clock Heart" AU that no one asked for, written for the "Heart" prompt for @percahliaweek. [Also found on AO3.]

Percival’s heart died at the age of eighteen.

That isn’t to say that Percival died, of course.

Rather, the young man in question survived the massacre of his family and the torturous pain inflicted upon him by Anna Ripley, living only by the “grace” of one of the good doctor’s many experimental forays into blending science and magic. Her medical tools made quick work of carving him open, breaking bone and tearing apart wet muscle to then hold his bloody heart in her hands. Within the new cavity of his chest, Ripley installed metallic gears and springs and small weights; where once he functioned through his own biological processes, he was driven by clockwork, the delicate kind that he once tinkered with in his youth.

And so, Percival persisted, though he was now forced to treat his heart like a machine.

x-x-x-x-x

Vex’ahlia’s heart died at the age of nineteen.

That isn’t to say that Vex’ahlia died, of course.

Rather, the young woman in question learned the shattered remains she had left in the wake of Syngorn and Byroden had to be held in a tight fist, guarded just as fiercely as Trinket’s mother had protected her cub in her final hours. As she traveled with her brother and slowly learned the magic of the world around her, she discovered that some of it could be used to wrap her fragile heart with briars and thorns. More times than not, the spike of the vines was an internal and mild discomfort that reminded her to tread carefully. But sometimes (the worst times, she believed), her thorns could be visible for all to see. They wrapped around her entire body in a startling display of gnarled and twisted vines, prickly things that warded off anything that would want to hurt her first.

And so, Vex’ahlia persisted, though she was now forced to act as though her emotions were inconsequential.

x-x-x-x-x

“I don’t trust him,” Vax’ildan said in a murmur, throwing a glance over his shoulder towards the pale human man that they’d just released from one of the many prison cells surrounding them.

“He can help us,” Vex countered. “If nothing else, he at least seems to know where to find this cult we’re apparently looking for.”

“Didn’t you hear his chest?” he pressed.

“Of course I did.”

“Then you agree that something’s wrong with him, or that he’s hiding something, because he hasn’t said a word of that to us.”

“And would you expect me to announce my condition to the entire world?” Vex asked with a quirked brow.

Vax stared at his sister for several long moments before rolling his eyes as he clicked his tongue in frustration. “That’s different, Stubby—”

“Is it?”

He sighed heavily. “Alright, alright, fine, be that way. But if he tries anything weird—”

“I know,” she said simply, because she always understood her brother and his caution. It was, after all, his own way of helping further shield her brambled heart.

x-x-x-x-x

Percy, as Vex learned his name was, managed to fit in with the rest of their group, despite clearly having some sort of noble background. Though he kept to himself, he did what he could to help with the various odd jobs they picked up, particularly so since he armed himself with some of the newfangled black powder weapons that were becoming increasingly popular throughout the world. Despite the weapons being terribly loud and often reeking of the burnt powder, they did pack quite the punch, and his precision with his shots usually allowed them to significantly reduce the amount of time they spent in combat.

The longer he spent with Vox Machina, the more they realized that he was also rather good with repairing things, a talent not restricted to the careful maintenance he had to keep up with so his firearms were in working order. Slowly but surely, it became commonplace to find Percy in possession of their broken odds and ends, piecing things together to repair weapons or to craft something entirely new and useful.

As such, it was not a surprise when Vex noticed Percy pulling out a small tool kit one evening when he had volunteered to take watch and she had yet to fall asleep. What was a surprise, however, was when Percy shrugged off the heavy blue coat he rarely parted with and unbuttoned his shirt. As the fabric fell away from his shoulders, pooling at his elbows, she saw the face of a clock on the front of his chest, resting over the space where his heart would be. What she initially assumed was nothing more than some intricate pocket watch sticking to his skin with sweat was soon proven to be attached to him as he opened the small glass door protecting the face and inserted a small key into one of the lowermost winding holes; as he turned his hand, his expression contorted with discomfort. Still, he turned the key a few more times, no matter how frequently he winced, before the subtle movements of the clock’s hands seemed to move much more smoothly than the jerky pace they had had before he used the key.

“So, that’s what you’ve been keeping secret from us, darling?” she couldn’t help but ask, propping herself up on one elbow as she looked at him.

Percy visibly stiffened, sitting ramrod straight as his eyes widened, before he hastily closed the clock’s door and pulled his shirt back up over his shoulders, his now-shaking hands fumbling to rebutton the garment.

“I, ah, didn’t realize anyone was still awake…” he said instead of answering her question.

Vex fell silent for a few moments, just studying him in curiosity. “Is it magic?”

Percy fidgeted with the collar of his shirt, intently focused on ensuring it lay flat against his throat.

“...I’m sorry for prying, darling,” she said gently, slowly recognizing that she would be equally evasive if the situation had been reversed.

Percy sighed a little and clasped his hands together in his lap before hesitantly meeting her gaze. “No, it’s… You all were bound to find out eventually.” He paused to tug off his spectacles before using the corner of his shirt to clean the lenses. “Yes, it is magic, but not by my own doing. I admittedly lack the interest, much less the aptitude, for such things. And, regardless of how I came by it, this is the only thing keeping me alive.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, more out of sympathetic understanding than pity.

“It is merely the current circumstances I have to live with.”

“...Does it hurt?”

Percy was quiet for several moments before he sighed and let out a small, almost exasperated, laugh. “Perhaps you could join me for the watch? I’ll happily answer whatever questions you have, dear, but it may be a bit more comfortable for you to sit up while we talk.”

x-x-x-x-x

Despite how carefully Vex guarded her emotions to keep her thorns under the surface of her skin, Syldor would always be one of the catalysts for pushing them up into plain view of everyone. It seemed like a miracle that her anxiety waited to take full bloom until after Vox Machina left the embassy. But it also seemed like a curse that it happened when Percy was still at her side even as everyone else had moved on to their rooms. As she heard the subtle creak and groan of the vines grow louder and felt the full-body prickle of the thorns forming, she let out a strangled noise of frustration.

Although Percy’s eyes widened in alarm, he had the decency to not jump away from her like some others had in the past.

“I… suspect you’re not alright,” he said tentatively.

She laughed, wet and strangled and lacking any true mirth, as she shook her head. “No, of course not. He’s supposed to be in Syngorn! I don’t know why he had to be here in Emon of all places.” She sighed and wrapped her prickly arms around herself, trying to further the physical shield around her form.

“If it will make you feel better, dear, we don’t actually have to search for your… for the Ambassador’s acquaintance.”

“No,” she said, vehemently shaking her head. “No, I… I don’t want him to know that I’m this upset about seeing him. I can’t let him know.”

“He isn’t aware of the thorns,” Percy guessed.

Vex swallowed and answered in a soft voice, “No. It was a kind of magic I learned after I left his home.”

“Then he won’t know,” he promised. “Even if that means the rest of us have to speak to him without you present.”

Vex tentatively turned her dark eyes to his blue ones, pools of sincerity that she usually only ever saw in her brother, lacking in judgment for the condition her body was in. Slowly, impossibly, her posture relaxed and the briars and thorns and vines receded under the compassion in his gaze.

“That… means more than I think you realize, Percival. Thank you.”

x-x-x-x-x

"Couldn’t sleep?” Vex asked quietly as she slotted herself beside Percy.

“Of course not,” he said, sounding as numb as his distant stare seemed to indicate. “Not when I know she…” He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t think I’ll be getting any sleep until I finally end this.”

Vex nodded and watched him carefully, knowing full well that he was leaving plenty of things unsaid but also knowing he was unlikely to want to disclose any of them. That did nothing to stop her from worrying about him.

“Would you like me to keep you company?”

He was silent for a long while, the only sound between them the steady tick-tock, tick-tock of his heart. He eventually nodded, slow and hesitant. “Yes. I… I would.”

She nodded again and turned her attention to restringing Fenthras while Percy took apart Retort, cleaned the parts, and reassembled the weapon. He seemed more than happy to pass the time in silence, however broken it was by the ticking of his heart. When it grew late enough that Vex was about to suggest they call it a night and join the others in the train’s sleeping car, Percy lightly cleared his throat.

“I have something I would like to give you, Vex’ahlia.”

“Oh?” she asked with a small tilt of her head. Not that it was unusual for Percy to make things for her, of course; it just hadn’t seemed to be one of his priorities in recent days, and understandably so.

“Ah… not my usual fare, I admit, but… but it’s important for you to have, I think, before tomorrow.”

Vex felt a sudden whisper of anxiety in the back of her mind, sounding so much like Saundor that she almost physically winced (or was it because her protective thorns were pricking at her insides?), telling her that Percy was trying to say goodbye in his own way. She refused to entertain the thought and tucked the fear away deep in her chest, beneath the briars.

“What is it?” she asked, forcing her tone to remain light and teasingly curious.

He offered her a weak smile and reached into an inner pocket of his coat, producing a small—but thick—envelope. When he passed it to her, there was a surprising amount of heft to it. As she moved to tear the envelope open, he reached out and placed a shaking hand over hers to stop her.

“Please… please wait to open it. I suspect you’ll know when the time is right.”

“...I’ll wait,” she promised softly, once more feeling the prickling pain of her anxiety and once more burying it.

x-x-x-x-x

“No matter what today”—Percy paused to release a shaky exhale—“I forgive you. But I cannot let you leave.”

Ripley let out a noise that seemed caught between a derisive snort and a frustrated growl, grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket with her clockwork arm and flinging him to the ground. The sound of glass cracking seemed nearly as loud and sharp as any gunshot from that afternoon. It was difficult to tell if it was from the shattered ground, Percy’s spectacles, or from the face of his heart; when he managed to push himself up into a semi-sitting position, Vex’s sharp eyes could see that it seemed to have been all of the above.

The glass pieces from the face of his heart were chased by its minute hand as he moved to aim Retort up at Ripley, his own hands trembling hard enough that Vex was certain he would miss the shot. The doctor seemed to reach the same conclusion as she shook her head and leveled Animus at Percy in return, her smile condescending and disappointed.

“It seems to me, Percival, that you are the one who won’t be leaving here today.”

A gunshot sounded, accompanied by the sounds of even more shattering glass and the crunch of wood and various metallic snaps.

As Percy fell backwards, pain erupted all over Vex’s skin as vines wrapped around her body and she screamed and screamed and screamed. She was vaguely aware of Keyleth’s responding cry and Scanlan’s curse and her brother suddenly at her side like a shadow, fumbling to notch an arrow when her hands were usually so sure. She drew back her bowstring, the briars and thorns of her pain indistinguishable from the ones blooming along the curve of Fenthras, the weapon mirroring her own heart, and she released all her grief and rage into the arrowhead that sank into the junction where Ripley’s clockwork arm connected with her shoulder. The others also turned their attention to Ripley, mercilessly cutting into her and breaking her as she’d broken their beloved tinkerer. When the doctor screamed her pain and frustration, the sound was cut short by Vex’s second arrow striking true in her throat.

Ripley’s decimated body barely had time to hit the ground before Vex, vision little more than a blur, dropped Fenthras and ran to gather up the pieces of Percy into her shaking, thorny arms.

x-x-x-x-x

Vex’ahlia, I have no doubt that you or your brother have found the letter I left for the group as a whole. I also have no doubt that you all have read it and are, in varying degrees, rather cross with me. This, however, is meant for you and you alone, dear. I’m aware that giving you my winding key is likely too little, too late, but I wouldn’t entrust it to anyone else. While you now hold the literal key to my heart in your hands, please know it belonged to you long before this. I have many regrets but I think not telling you sooner is the one that I carry with the heaviest burden. I sincerely hope you’ll hold onto this piece of me. Yours, Percival

x-x-x-x-x

“Honestly, what he needs is a clockmaker,” Pike sighed heavily.

“Then… there’s nothing you can do, Pickle?” Vax asked after he cast a sideways glance at his sister, watching her once again reread the letter that Percy had evidently left for only her.

“I never said that,” Pike replied with a small huff, moving to wipe her bloodied hands with a damp washcloth. “I managed to stabilize him but he’ll need a completely new clock to ensure he actually stays alive. Unfortunately, though, I think that’ll have to wait until he wakes up.”

Everyone in the room thankfully left the ‘if’ unspoken between them.

“So, what do we do now?” Keyleth asked, her voice still hoarse and scratchy from how much she had cried.

Pike sighed again, a little softer, and looked over Percy’s form in the hospital bed. “All we can do is wait.”

x-x-x-x-x

Despite Vax’s attempts to coax her out of the room, Vex became a near-constant fixture at Percy’s bedside, his winding key in her pocket and his letter in her hands, watching and waiting for him to open his eyes. Sometimes, for the sake of drowning out the irregular and weak ticking of his heart, she would talk to him, keeping him updated on the team’s misadventures or reading a book aloud.

On one of the many nights she tried to read to him, she found that she couldn’t focus on the words and, with a sigh, she closed the book. As she set the book down in her lap, she looked over at Percy, gnawing at her lower lip as she became lost in thought.

“I don’t know if you can actually hear me, darling, but I’m so proud that you entrusted me with your heart. That you let me see it as plainly now as you did when you first showed it to me. But, yes, I am a bit cross with you for not telling me about your feelings sooner.” She let out a small laugh before she sighed and continued, “It means nothing, though, without you here. Your home needs you. Your sister needs you. I need you. And… I should have told that my heart is yours in return.”

“Oh, good. I was worried I’d simply made a complete ass of myself for leaving you that note.”

Vex’s head snapped up at the sound of his voice and was met with a thoroughly exhausted—but cheeky—smile as Percy struggled to sit up.

“Percy!” she gasped, frustrated and surprised and relieved and giddy all at once, before she nearly flung the book across the room in her rush to move in and wrap him in the tightest embrace she dared.

“It’s good to see you, too, dear,” he said weakly.

As she pulled away from the embrace, she began to pepper his face with kisses, feeling his skin warm considerably under the shower of affection but not caring enough to stop, trying to pour every ounce of her love into him so he couldn’t have any doubt that she reciprocated his feelings.

x-x-x-x-x

Percival’s heart revived at the age of twenty-three and Vex’ahlia’s heart revived at the age of twenty-seven, irrevocably intertwined in each other.

[mischievous-thunder]

What truly got Johnny killed is his relentless flirting with Wade's Angel Baby

[lekoppadraws]

MAWWIAGE

Quickie doodle for the Yellow and Green Brainrot server right under the wire! 🙌

[emacrow]

Hey, did you lose this?

A gargantuan looming form that was black as the night sky, coated in stars, cosmic dust, planets, and nebula. Extremely long snow white hair defying gravity floating above the ceiling spreading across like a growing cloud. Bright blue eyes like jewels staring down at tim

Tim could only stare dumbfounded with his sleep deprived eyes after searching for the right summoning in his backup backup bunker to find batman after escaping the arkham asylum.

In its right thin hand holding like a wet napkin was batman unconscious, coated in deep blue ice.

"I believe this belong to your dimension, at first, I thought it was a miniature cat at first when it tried a pathetic attempt at fleeing my children's toy box was when I noticed it was just another misplaced humans and they don't last long in the infinite realm much less my children's toybox. It took me a moment to figure out the right dimensions where it originated, but you thankfully made it easier for me to find with the summoning." The bring lightly drop Batman down to the ground as the deep frozen ice easily melted away.

"D-don't you need a payment?" Is what Tim spoke after his mind reset back from shock.

"Oh no~, visiting this dimension is a grand payment considering this where I can finally nib the bud of those pesky sewage ectoplasm that been a pain in my ankle for long enough. At best, you would be rewarded for giving me such a gift." The being lightly tapped Tim's head with its glowing index finger, ruffling the black hair lightly.

"Should you need me for any favor, Call upon me, the High King of the Infinite realm, Danny Phantom, Protector of the Dead and Alive, Center of the Eternal Vast Sp" The be- Danny did a light bow, as his towering being faded away, the summoning circle disappearing as well.

Leaving only Tim alone with a Bruce coughing a bit, taking a couple of heavy breaths of fresh air which snapped Tim out of his stupor.

"Bruce, Bruce, are you alright?" Tim rushed over and lightly shook Bruce's shoulder as Bruce's eyes opened slowly to see Tim, except there was something different about tim. His hair wasn't black but now a strikingly bright white with specks of stardust.

Fanart -> link

Part 2-> link

[bebx]

no I’m literally so fuckable if you ignore the mental illnesses, the homicidal urges, the violence, the tragic past, the pain, the fear, the trauma and the grotesqueness actually

[breesperez139]

Dc x Dp Prompt #6

“I’m a twin”, Damian said one night. He could feel the narrowed eyes of his family drilling holes on his back in disbelief. Not that he could blame them. Damian had never so much as implied being raised with a companion, much less a sibling.

“I had a brother”. Damian paused to recollect himself. He had not said his brother’s name out loud in over 8 years.

“His name was… Danyal”. Damian hated the way his voice wavered, but he could not help it. Danyal was everything to him, his other half. Their heart beat as one and when one heart stopped beating, the other one died with it. At least until his family put his heart on metaphorical life support without ever realizing.

“Where is he now?” His father asked, voice filled with knowing grief and a hint of betrayal. It had in fact been 6 years since Damian first showed up on his doorstep.

“Up there”. All eyes shifted towards the specific star he was pointing to. “Right before he died, he promised me he’d guide me from the stars. Unfortunately, the stars are not visible in Gotham, so my brother is unable to be of much help unless I leave the city.”

“Your brother is Polaris, the North Star?” Tim questioned warily, most likely in attempts to not offend him. Damian was aware of how stupid it sounded, but Danyal had promised, and his brother never broke his promises.

“Yes. Danyal is with the stars now, just as he always wanted”

[weepingwillows-sweethibiscustea]

I’m currently thinking about an AU where the Justice League confuse Danny for Jason.

Like, they know Batman’s second Robin met an unfortunate end, & now his newest partner is the ghost of an upbeat, scrawny, teenage boy.

Excuse them, for thinking the ghost being Batman’s dead son was more believable then Batman somehow having picked up not just another stray, but a dead one. How did he even do that?

Bonus points if Jason is very much so resurrected already, but none of the bats told the justice league because apparently Gotham’s newest crime lord, who’s 6’ whatever & built like a brick shithouse, isn’t obviously the same malnourished little kid that used to say “Robin gives me magic!” & literally died. Who knew?

[windybluebelles]

Horrific eldritch horror: I’m so sorry! It appears that we must get married due to reasons out of our control! I’m so sorry you have to be stuck with a monster like me for eternity ☹️

Jason- monster fucker -Todd: oh no! What a shame 😳😳😳😳🤭🤭🤭🤭

(he’s already picked out the names of their children)

[rebelrenee36]

Mark your calendars! DoubleHearted-vember is coming!!

To celebrate the 2 year anniversary of Double-Hearted (DDVAU) on November 4th, a group of us fans have put together a drawing/writing prompt list for the whole month of November!

What is Double-Hearted (DDVAU)?

Double-Hearted is a comic created by Doody (@kitsuneisi) and Maruu (@xmaruu11) based off of Hermitcraft and the Life Series. It follows the adventures and misadventures of Scar and Grian as they navigate their double lives—one as the beloved celebrity hero Hotguy, the other as popular vigilante Cuteguy, both unaware they're coworkers at the same university.

Where can I read it?

Here’s a link to the masterpost!

Who are the awesome people who made this list?

That would be @rebelrenee36 (me!!), @liloinkoink, @kowore, @deedolldrawz, and @anpanbun

Can I start working on it now?

Of course! We wanted to give plenty of time so people can start preparing now to help avoid burnout. Feel free to participate as much or as little as you’d like as well. Late uploads are also a-okay!

What if I'm not an artist?

We tried our best to make most of the prompts writer-friendly as well with the exceptions of Day 22 and Day 30, but feel free to use those as two more free days instead!

What's up with the bonus Day?

At the request of Maruu themself, we've added a bonus day at the very beginning for the first completed arc of Double-Hearted! Since the Mother Spore arc takes place on October 31st, it’s only fitting.

What if I have more questions?

Feel free to send me an ask and I can answer any questions, offer suggestions, or link any other resources!

[aliyahwritings]

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (02)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 4.1k

Aliyah's Notes: rafe triple appearances 👏 i actually rlly like this yk like the pacing and the dynamics are great imo. i hope u all will like it too. reader seems like such a jobless ho in this chap but she's booked and busy yall i promise

As the early morning sunlight streamed through the large windows of your apartment, you stood in front of your full-length mirror, taking a deep breath as she surveyed her reflection. Today was the day—the day you would finally meet Rafe Cameron and discuss the terms of your marriage arrangement. The thought made your stomach flutter with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Despite your bubbling personality, the pressure of the situation weighed heavily on your shoulders. You had spent the past few days steeling yourself for this moment, and now that it was finally here, the reality of it sent your heart racing.

You glanced at your closet, a vibrant array of outfits hanging neatly. You had planned to wear something that screamed “fabulous”, but time was slipping away from you. You settled on a leopard-print strapless top, pairing it with a denim mini skirt. You slipped on your favorite black heels, which added just the right amount of height and made your legs longer. You grabbed your black Prada bag, a reminder of the success you had fought so hard to achieve.

Despite your nerves, you felt a surge of excitement. This meeting was a step forward resolving your visa issues, and you were determined to make the best of it. You wanted to present yourself as confident, someone who could hold your own—especially when facing someone like Rafe Cameron.

You slipped into the back seat of your private car, offering a quick nod to your driver, Gregory. As the engine purred to life, you felt your heart pounding in your ears, each beat amplifying the weight of anticipation.

When you arrived at the law office, your gaze immediately landed on Nicolas, your lawyer. He stood up from his chair and made his way over, exchanging small talk that felt oddly comforting amid the tension. Together, you entered the meeting room, where Rafe and his lawyer were already waiting for you.

Even seated, his presence dominated the space. His broad shoulders, casual posture, and confident smirk that made him look every bit the arrogant athlete you had read about. His lawyer, Sabrina Rashid, sat beside him, a sharply dressed woman who radiated professionalism. Rafe, on the other hand, looked annoyingly relaxed in a plain white t-shirt and black jeans. 

Well, this made you look overdressed… Embarrassing, but you kept your head held high.

Nicolas gestured toward the table. “Shall we?”

You slid into the chair opposite Rafe, offering a small nod to his lawyer before turning your attention to him. His blue eyes flickered over you, lingering longer than necessary. You could practically feel his ego inflate with every second.

“You’re late,” he drawled, breaking the silence. His voice was as cocky as his expression.

You arched a brow, setting your Prada bag on the table with a soft thud. “Hello to you too—and you’re lucky I showed up at all, considering your reputation.”

He smiled. “Feisty. I like that.”

And so, you cringed at his words. You rolled your eyes, refusing to take the bait. “Let’s get to the point, shall we?”

Nico cleared his throat, clearly eager to steer the conversation to business. “Yes, well, the purpose of today’s meeting is to discuss the logistics of the marriage arrangement—specifically, where you’ll be living, financial obligations, and how this will be handled publicly.”

“Publicly?” you repeated, frowning slightly. “I thought this was supposed to be discreet.”

Rafe shrugged. “I don’t do discreet, sweetheart.”

You shot him a glare. “I am not your sweetheart.”

“Not yet, but wait ‘till we’re married.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by his audacity, but recovered. “This isn’t going to be like that. We’re not doing some fake, lovey-dovey routine for the press.”

Rafe leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. “Who said anything about love? I’m talking about looking like a normal couple, someone the media can’t tear apart every other week. It’s all about appearances, sweetheart.”

“Stop calling me sweetheart.”

“Whatever you say,” he grinned. “Plus, you gotta admit, you and I? We’d be a headline every day, sweetheart.”

“Is he serio—”

Nico stepped in before you could respond. “Alright, enough. Let’s get back on track.” He glanced at Rafe’s lawyer, who nodded and opened a folder.

“First item on the agenda: where will you two be living?” Sabrina asked, her tone professional and no-nonsense. “Given that this marriage is primary for legal purposes, we need to establish residency. For it to be legitimate, you will need to live together.”

You shot a look at Rafe, who was already smirking like he’d won some kind of silent argument. “I’m not moving in with him,” you said flatly.

“You think I’m thrilled about having a roommate? Especially one who probably spends hours in front of the mirror.”

You crossed your arms. “I do not.”

Lies.

“Oh, please. You’re a model. You probably have a different skincare for every day of the week.”

“And it’s supposed to be a bad thing because…?” You frowned. “You should take exemple. You look like you wash your face with body soap.”

Nico pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let’s focus, kids.”

Rafe’s lawyer continued, ignoring the banter. “You’ll need to appear as though you’re cohabiting. If not, immigration authorities will become suspicious, and the arrangement could fall apart.”

You narrowed your eyes at Rafe. “Where do you live, anyway?”

He learned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I’ve got a place in SoHo. Penthouse. Nice view, great amenities. It’s got plenty of space for you to do… whatever it is models do.”

“Funny, I have my place in the Upper East Side. And I am not giving it up.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Upper East Side, huh? Posh.”

“I earned it.”

“Well, we’ll need to figure something out,” Sabrina interjected smoothly. “But you need to live together. In one place.”

Rafe looked amused. “You can have the closet space. I’m a sweet guy like that.”

“How generous,” you muttered, turning back to the lawyers. “Fine. We can do the whole ‘living in one place together’ thing. But I need time off, to stay at my place once in a while.”

Rafe winked. “Wouldn’t want to cramp your style.”

You ignored him. “What about finances? How is this going to work?”

Nico pulled out his own folder. “We’ve drafted a preliminary agreement outlining financial contributions from both parties. It’s important that this marriage appears legitimate, so we suggest pooling certain expenses—utilities, rent or mortgage payments, and shared household costs. This can be done through a joint account, which will be monitored to ensure the marriage looks genuine.”

You could feel Rafe’s eyes on you, and you shot him a look. “A joint account? I hope you’re not expecting me to pay for your post-game drinks?”

He chuckled. “Relax. I’ve got more money than you can spend in a lifetime. The joint account is just for show. But if you want to chip in for groceries, I won’t stop you.”

“Oh, how noble of you,” you replied dryly.

Nico glanced between you and Rafe, clearly trying to keep the conversation on track. “This account will cover all necessary shared expenses—bills, groceries, and any incidentals that may arise from your living arrangements. It’ll help maintain the appearance of a genuine marriage.”

Sabrina nodded in agreement. “Exactly. As for your individual assets, those will remain separate. No need to worry about your personal finances getting tangled up.”

You relaxed a little at that. “Good.”

“And what about public appearances?” Rafe asked, sounding surprisingly serious. “How often do we need to do the whole ‘happy couple’ thing?”

Nico exchanged a look with Rafe’s lawyer. “You’ll need to be seen together frequently enough to make it believable, but not so much that it seems forced. A few key events—charity galas, public outings—will suffice. It’s important that you strike a balance.”

Rafe shrugged. “I’ve got games, events, plenty of opportunities to be seen.”

You sighed. “I have shoots, fashion shows, and meetings. We’re both busy.”

“Sounds like we’ll have to schedule our love life,” he quipped, flashing you a grin that made you want to throttle at him.

You gave him a sweet smile. “Good thing it’s not real.”

He laughed, and for a second, the tension in the room eased.

Nico shuffled his papers. “There’s one more thing to discuss—media coverage. Given that Mr. Cameron is already in the spotlight, it’s important to control the narrative.”

Sabrina continued; “We’ll need to issue a carefully crafted statement once the marriage is official. Something that explains how you met, why you’re together, and addresses any potential rumors before they can spiral out of control.”

“A public statement?” You cringed at the thought.

“It’s necessary,” Nico said. “If this looks like a publicity stunt, it could raise red flags with immigration.”

Rafe leaned back in his chair, looking far too relaxed for the situation. “Don’t worry, we’ll make it believable. I’m great with the media.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what worries me,” you muttered.

He smirked. “Come on, sweetie. We’ll be the hottest couple in New York. Think of the headlines.”

“I’d rather not,” you moved your hands dismissively.

The lawyer continued discussing the finer details of the arrangement—contract clauses, confidentiality agreements, and timelines. You zoned out for a moment, your eyes drifting back to Rafe. Despite his infuriating attitude, there was something about him. Something that made you feel like this might not be the worst decision after all.

“I hope you’re prepared for the spotlight,” he said suddenly, snapping you back to reality. “The media’s gonna eat this up.”

You arched a brow. “Please. I’ve been in the spotlight longer than you have, and with far less drama.”

He grinned. “We’ll see about that.”

You leaned forward, meeting his gaze head-on, the space between you suddenly charged. “I’m not one of your little fangirls, Rafe. You might charm the media, but you’re not charming me.”

His smirk faltered, just for a second, replaced by something darker, more intense. His gaze dipped, lingering on your exposed cleavage, heat flaring in his eyes. You felt a spark, your breath catching as your own eyes betrayed you, flickering to his lips—pink, curved, and way too tempting for your liking. The air between you thickened, crackling with an unspoken challenge, the playful banter giving way to something far more dangerous.

Rafe’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips, and for a moment, you forgot where you were, the weight of his stare pulling you in. The thought of what it would feel like to wipe that cocky grin off his face—or maybe even taste it—flickering through your mind.

But then Nico cleared his throat, shattering the moment like glass, and you quickly sat back, your heart racing as you wrenched your gaze away from Rafe’s.

“So, we have a deal?” Rafe asked, cutting through the tension.

You glanced at Nico, who gave you a subtle nod of reassurance. With a deep breath, you turned to Rafe and extended your hand. “Yes, we do.”

His hand clasped yours, warm and firm. “Looking forward to being your husband, sweetheart.”

“Looking forward to not being your wife,” you rolled your eyes, pulling your hand back. “This is purely business. Don’t get any ideas.”

“Whatever you say, wife.”

The next few days passed in a blur of contracts, legal jargon, and meetings with Nico, Sabrina, and Rafe. You had signed your life away—well, not really your life, but it certainly felt like it. 

You were lounging in your Upper East Side apartment, scrolling through Instagram when your phone buzzed.

Rafe Cameron.

Just seeing his name made your stomach tighten with a mix of irritation and something else you couldn’t quite place. Hesitantly, you opened the message.

Rafe: “When do you plan on moving in?”

You stared at the screen for a second before typing.

You: “I’m not even packed yet… what the hell.”

Rafe: “What you waiting for? You’re not chickening out, are you, sweetheart?”

There it was again—sweetheart. That nickname got on your nerves, but you were determined not to let him get under your skin (although he already did).

You: “Stop calling me that, and also I have a job and a life. I can’t just drop everything to move into your stinky place.”

Rafe: “I’m offering help.”

You snorted at your phone. Right, because Rafe Cameron would actually help you pack your boxes.

You: “What are you gonna do? Carry my shoes for me?”

Rafe: “If it gets you here faster, then sure. I’ll be here tomorrow.”

Your eyes widened. Was he serious? You couldn’t picture Rafe Cameron, basketball star and all-around cocky jerk, standing in your apartment, packing boxes and loading them into a truck. The mental image alone was laughable.

You: “Wait! No!”

Rafe: “Why no? You need a few more days to decide on what to pick?”

You: “Jerk.”

Rafe: ":)"

You: “And I can’t move in yet. We need to make a public appearance and get married before I start packing and do all the move-in things.”

There was a pause before his response came through.

Rafe: “Fair.”

You: “Excited to live with me, am I right?”

Rafe: “Projecting much?”

You: “You wish.”

Rafe: “Ditto, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes. You quickly clicked on the rolling eyes emoji as a response and threw your phone onto the couch, not wanting to keep talking to him.

The next morning, you blinked your eyes open, greeted by the familiar warmth of your apartment, and for a fleeting moment, you forgot about everything. The visage, the arrangement, the pressure, the stress, immigration, Rafe Cameron—all of it felt distant, like a strange dream.

But then reality settled back in.

You groaned softly, burying your face into your pillow for a second longer before sighing and throwing off the covers. Today was yet another meeting with the lawyers, and you already were over it.

You knew marriage was a lot of papers and documents, but you truly didn’t think it was this much.

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you padded across the plush carpet to your closet, glancing at the outfits hanging neatly in a row. Usually, your first thought would be what designer outfit to wear today but you couldn’t muster the energy to care this morning. Today wasn’t about looking fabulous; it was about getting down to business, and you didn’t care how you looked because you’d be stuck in a room for hours with two lawyers and your future husband.

Future husband… God, how weird was it to say that about a man you didn’t even know.

Instead of focusing on it, you reached for a pair of soft gray sweatpants and a simple white tank top. You pulled a thick, cozy grey cardigan over your shoulders, its warmth a small comfort against the stress building in your mind. 

As you made your way to the kitchen, your phone buzzed on the countertop, and for a moment, you thought it might be Rafe. But no, it was just a reminder from Nico about the meeting. You sighed, grabbed a cup of coffee, slipped into the backseat of your car and headed to the law office.

The law office was as sleek and imposing as ever—polished wood, glass walls, and the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. You stepped into the conference room, finding Nicolas and Sabrina already seated at the table, a stack of papers in front of them. They looked up and offered polite smiles as you entered.

“Morning,” you said, taking a seat and smoothing the sleeves of your cardigan.

“Morning, Y/N,” Nico replied, his tone friendly but businesslike. “How’re you feeling?”

You hesitated, offering a half-hearted smile. “A bit nervous and tired, I guess. But ready to get things moving.”

Nico nodded, glancing at the empty seat beside you before opening his mouth to speak, but Sabrina beat him to it.

“Hello, Ms. Y/L/N, just to let you know—Rafe won’t be joining us today.”

Your heart sank, but you tried not to show it. “Oh? Why’s that?”

“Last-minute practice session,” she explained, her tone casual. “It was unavoidable, apparently. He couldn’t get out of it.”

You nodded slowly, processing the information. It wasn’t that you were angry—just… bothered. This was an important meeting, after all. Even though this marriage was fake, it still involved a lot of big decisions. Decisions you didn’t feel comfortable making without him.

“Okay,” you said after a moment. “I guess we’ll have to catch him up later, then.”

Sabrina gave you a sympathetic look. “I’ll make sure he’s informed about everything. I know it’s frustrating, but Rafe’s schedule can be pretty unpredictable.”

“I get it,” you replied with a shrug, trying to convince yourself it wasn’t that big of a deal. “It’s just... this is important, you know? It would’ve been nice to have him here for this.”

“I understand,” Sabrina said gently. “And I’ll make sure he’s fully briefed on everything. He’s committed to this, even if it doesn’t always seem that way.”

You nodded, still feeling a bit unsettled but trying to brush it off. He was used to a chaotic schedule, and you couldn’t expect him to drop everything for every meeting. But still... you couldn’t shake the slight discomfort gnawing at you.

“Okay,” you said, trying to focus on the task at hand. “So, what’s the plan for today?”

Nico flipped through the stack of papers in front of him. “We’ve got a lot to cover. First off, the wedding itself. We need to finalize a date, and given your visa situation, we’re looking at a timeline of about three weeks.”

“Three weeks?!” you exclaimed, immediately covering your mouth with your hand. It was sooner than you’d expected, but you understood the urgency. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Nico said, waving his hands. “We need to move quickly. The sooner the marriage is official, the sooner we can start the immigration process. And in the meantime, you and Rafe will need to be seen together publicly—on dates, outings, and even social media.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, feeling a little overwhelmed. “Public appearances... right. How often are we talking?”

“Enough to make it believable,” Sabrina took over. “We don’t want to overwhelm you, but it’s important that you’re seen together frequently. A few key public outings, some posts on social media—it’ll help establish the narrative that you’re a real couple.”

You nodded. “And Rafe’s on board with all of this?”

“He is,” Sabrina reassured you. “We’ve discussed it, and he knows what’s required.”

“Okay,” you said, feeling a bit more reassured but still uneasy. The idea of staging your life for the public was daunting. It wasn’t just about attending a few events or posting pictures—it was about selling the image of a relationship that didn’t exist. And with Rafe not even here for the planning, you couldn’t help but feel a little disconnected from it all.

You smiled faintly. “It just feels... strange, doing all of this without Rafe. I mean, I know it’s a fake marriage, but it would still be nice to have him involved, you know?”

“I understand,” Sabrina said. “It’s not ideal, but Rafe’s committed to this. His schedule is unpredictable right now, but that doesn’t mean he’s not invested in making this work.”

You nodded, trying to take comfort in her words. Maybe Rafe’s absence wasn’t a sign of disinterest—maybe it was just bad timing.

Nico continued, flipping through the papers. “Let’s move on to the wedding itself. Have you given any thought to what kind of ceremony you want?”

“Honestly, I haven’t thought about it at all.”

“Alright,” Nico said, nodding.

“A small ceremony,” you echoed, thinking it over. “It… It could be nice, no? That could work—but shouldn’t Rafe have a say in this?”

“He will,” Nico assured you. “Mrs. Rashid will loop him in on everything. But for now, we need to focus on logistics. The venue, the guest list, the timeline—it’s all about making sure everything looks legitimate to immigration.”

“Okay. Let’s go with the small ceremony, then. But I’d still like Rafe’s input before we make any final decisions,” you said softly, your cheeks warming slightly.

“Of course,” both lawyers said with a smile.

The conversation shifted to the finer details—the venue, the guest list, the timing of public appearances. It felt more like planning an elaborate PR campaign than a wedding, but you tried to stay focused. Every decision was one step closer to securing your future, even if it didn’t feel real.

The meeting felt like a marathon. You exhaled a long, tired sigh, your head spinning with wedding details and timelines. You couldn’t help but glance at your phone again, half-expecting a message from Rafe. But there was nothing. He was at practice, wrapped up in whatever game plan his team was working on.

You adjusted the strap of your tote bag and pulled your cardigan tighter around yourself as you headed for the door. But as you opened it, you stopped short, nearly walking straight into someone standing just outside.

“Whoa—” A familiar voice interrupted your thoughts, and you blinked up to see Rafe Cameron standing there, leaning against the doorframe, as if he had been waiting for you.

“Rafe?” you blurted out, surprise laced in your voice. You hadn’t expected him to be here, especially after Sabrina said he wouldn’t make it.

He straightened up quickly, looking just as startled as you. “Y/N… uh, hey. I—uh, I’m sorry I missed the meeting,” he stammered, his usual confident demeanor slipping for a moment. “I couldn’t miss practice…”

You stood there, momentarily frozen. It wasn’t like him to stutter—and it threw you off. “Oh… right. Yeah, no, it’s fine, don’t worry. Sabrina said you had practice,” you said, trying to brush off the awkwardness.

He shifted his weight, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Yeah, I, uh… tried to make it, but, you know… basketball.”

You nodded slowly, still surprised that he had actually shown up. “Well, the meeting’s over. Sabrina said she’ll catch you up on what we discussed.”

“Right, yeah, I’ll talk to her,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, so... goodbye?”

“Goodbye,” he said, looking down at the floor for a second before glancing back at you. There was a brief, awkward silence that stretched between the two of you. Neither of you moved, though you weren’t sure why.

Finally, Rafe cleared his throat, and his gaze flickered over your outfit. A slow smirk crept onto his face, his familiar cockiness returning. “So... what’s with the sweatpants and cardigan? Didn’t know you had it in you to dress so casually.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the teasing tone. “Excuse me?”

He shrugged, his smirk widening. “Just saying... it’s not exactly the runway look I was expecting from a supermodel.”

You felt a laugh bubble up in your throat before you could stop it. “You’re one to talk, Mr. I-show-up-in-a-T-shirt-to-a-business-meeting,” you shot back, your lips curving into a smile.

Rafe’s eyes lit up slightly, surprised by your reaction. It was the first time you had actually laughed at something he said, and for a moment, he just stared at you, taking in the sound. Cute, he thought to himself, the word slipping into his mind unbidden.

“At least my T-shirt was designer. This,” he flicked his gaze over your cardigan, “looks like something you stole from your grandma’s closet.”

You gasped, feigning offense. “I happen to like this cardigan, thank you very much. It’s cozy.”

He grinned. “Cozy, is it? Guess you’re preparing for the life of domestic bliss we’re about to have. How cute.”

You shook your head, fighting another smile. “Funny—like you even know the meaning of domestic bliss.”

He tilted his head, his smirk never faltering. “Who says I don’t? I could be all about the cozy life. You don’t know me.”

You arched a brow. “Really? You? In sweatpants, lounging on a couch, binge-watching Netflix?”

“I can be a homebody if I want to,” he said, shrugging, though the teasing glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t being serious. “Give me some credits, alright? I can rock sweatpants.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Maybe you will. You’ll be living with me soon enough—” you froze slightly at that reminder, and your smile wavered. He noticed the shift and cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’ll make sure to show up to the next meeting. Promise.”

You gave him a small nod, still smiling. “You’d better.”

He nodded, and for the first time since you’d met, there was no teasing in his expression—just quiet understanding. You gave him one last look before heading down the hall, feeling the warmth of your laugh still lingering in the air between you.

And Rafe stood there watching you walk away, thinking about how cute your laugh was—and how much he wanted to hear it again.

chapter three

[mischievous-thunder]

Poor little emotionally stubborn feral old kitty :"3

[ramen-writes]

"I pledge to you my life-"

"wh-what?"

"As your protector and knight"

"wait stop. No-"

"to serve you-"

"please stop. Not like this"

"and stand behind you"

"No- stand besides me n-not-"

"I pledge to you my loyalty and from this moment on. I shall honor and protect, put your liege before my own-"

"stop. I bid you to take it back!"

"From now my life is yours and I shall serve you with honor"

"This is no oath I ever desire from you!"

"I shall become the sword that will protect you"

"There must be another way-"

"I will aid you to the top"

"There's no height I will reside upon without you by my side!"

"I am your loyal servant"

"No- you're the only one who isn't. You're my companion, my love, the only one by my side. Don't do this, please"

"who will reside behind you until my bones turn to dust and my heart sets to a stop"

"N-no.....please"

[emacrow]

The Watchtower found a enormous floating crystallized casket in space. Part 1

And the corpses unside still has a heart beat...

When danny became the ghost king, as a precaution in cause the Disband GIW were to find his dead body and possibly desecrated and dissect it. He had put plans to send his corpse into the middle of space of another dimension for safekeeping until later. Frostbite help made a special casket large enough as he had told Danny that his corpse body will grow into his true form.

He gotten help from the ghostly arachnids to make the finest silk clothes for his corpse along with extinct flowers across the ghostzone. That even got Dani and Dan wanted to leave their corpses with danny for safekeeping and to keep him company.

That was literally eon ago in time in Danny's dimension timeline..

Only until the casket bumped into watchtower.

There was three bodies whom seem to be sleeping in a cuddle like pile, holding each other hands. A white hair man, a teenage boy and a young girl wearing royal like silk clothes, floating aurora like crowns on their heads, and flowers extinct yet still thriving in the casket as they remain blooming.

Only for superman to say something that made everyone panic a bit.

"One of them has a very slow heart beat.."

[princessbrunette]

ᡣ𐭩 ｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅PRINCESSBRUNETTES SCREAM SALON INTRODUCES … ໒꒰ྀི ˃̵ ࿁ ˂̵ ꒱ྀིა

PICTURE YOU ࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃

♩chappell roan — picture you ♩

pairing: pervy pope, jj, john b x reader

cw: sexual fantasies, the pogues being peeping toms, masturbation.

you are responsible for your own media consumption. welcome to kinktober day five. better late than never!

pope knew was he was doing was wrong. you were his neighbour for christs sake.

at the end of the day, he was but a man— and whilst he had no intention of stooping to full pervert level like this, he had slipped up and bragged to the wrong people, AKA — jj maybank, about how his fine ass neighbour had a certain… routine, every friday night… and would leave her bedroom blinds open for it.

the regret fully kicked in when he opened his front door, seeing the excited expression on his two best friends faces.

“no. i shouldn’t have told you.” is how pope greets them.

“dude it’s fine,” jj reiterates, easily moving past him in the entrance to his house with a clap on the shoulder, an only slightly less enthused john b following closely behind with an awkward but willing smile. “we’re not gonna watch. we’re just gonna… like — happen to glance out the window. while she’s flickin’ the bean.”

“thats — that doesn’t make it any more okay.” pope stresses, following his friends up to his bedroom.

“look, she leaves her blinds open right? isn’t that what you said? have you maybe considered that… possibly, and hear me out on this… she wants to be watched?” john b, usually the voice of reason finds it in himself to convince pope just that little more, wide puppy-like eyes doing most of the convincing. he’s probably the only reason pope hasn’t grabbed them both by the scruff of the neck and hauled them out.

the night goes on, and honestly — the perverted plan is nearly forgotten about until their attention is brought to the window just across from popes, the lamp switching on as you arrived home from work. john b swivels on popes desk chair, nodding his head toward the sight with a whistle.

“oop, shows starting.”

“honey, i’m home.” jj sings out in a high pitched voice, excited for what’s to come.

“you’re so much better than this, john b.” pope deadpans, double taking at jj as he switches off the lights to the bedroom sending them all into darkness. “what the hell?”

“do you wanna get caught creepin’ on your neighbour? no? didn’t think so.”

“you done this before jayj?” there’s a lilt of teasing to the brunettes voice as his blonde counterpart grabs a seat and drags it up beside him, the young adults gathered as they watch your figure dart around the room going about your nightly activities.

“shh.”

the boys curse, ducking down slightly when you suddenly appear at your window, fingers grazing the blinds. they stay deadly still in the dark, barely even breathing as to not draw attention to the fact they’re gathered round to watch you. you look pensive, hesitant, like you’re about to draw the blinds and shut the world out and yet… you don’t. you back away, leaving them open.

“huh.” pope breathes, glancing at his wavy haired friend.

“likes an audience. interesting.” routledge hums, voice deep and breathy.

you begin to undress, and they swear the air in the room gets thicker. peeling your leggings down your legs like they’d been painted onto you for the day creates an audible reaction from your neighbour and his friends, jj even going as far as to stick his knuckle in his mouth.

“god damn.” he garbles, earning a hum of agreement.

“oh you really lucked out here pope. the only neighbour i ever had was a 70 year old woman. trust me when she left her blinds open you look the other way.” john b doesn’t remove his eyes from the scene as he recounts the anecdote, causing pope to screw up his face.

the truth was, pope did have his own fantasies and perversions. he told himself time and time again, he wasn’t watching. he was at his desk first, you left your blinds open. visions of you at the library you worked at, helping him with research in that little mini skirt he saw you wear once. bending over to rummage shelves, sweet fat crescent of your pussy on display through your panties. pope would have no choice but to take you right there on the table behind the bookshelves, the two of you trying to stay quiet as he disappears between your thighs, seeking out that sweet nectar…

when he snaps out of it, you’re already on the bed, in perfect eyeshot of the window. just you, that dim lamp that made your skin seem to glow, an oversized tshirt and some panties.

“you guys don’t feel wrong doing this?” pope speaks in a hushed voice like you might be able to hear.

“how could something so right be so wrong, my friend?” jj pulls out a joint to stick into his mouth, only to have it plucked from his lips and tossed aside by the heyward boy.

“i’m drawing a line.”

“alright, that’s fair.”

“you guys are missing it.” john b hums, entranced by the way you palm at your tits through the top, eyes fluttering shut as your body starts to relax into the bed. “putting on a show for us.”

silence falls upon them finally as they stare, your hands trailing down to lift the hem of your shirt up and over your breasts, massaging the fat and plucking at the nipples.

“oh wow.” pope breathes, jj breaking out into a grin.

“this is some american pie shit right here.”

“grow up.”

“i’m just saying.”

it seems like forever before your hands reach down to your panties, fingers gingerly dusting over the thin fabric of what appears to be baby blue panties with a pink bow at the top centre. jj even swears he can see the gloss of your arousal on your open thighs from where he’s sat. you begin to rub yourself through the material, teasingly and you pull your bottom lip beneath your teeth, sucking in a breath.

“th’atta girl.” john b murmurs, and the air in the room suddenly feels too hot, too stifling. it wasn’t this hot five minutes ago.

“its like i… can’t look away.” pope justifies in just above a whisper, finally perching down to a more comfortable view, watching the way your head tosses side to side, back arching just that little bit as you try and find a better angle. patience leaves you, and you’re pulling the panties off all together.

“would you look at that.” jj marvels, before glancing at his two friends. “y’all mind if i jerk off real quick?”

“what?” pope screws up his face, and john b glances at him.

“yeah, uh. i mind.”

“it can’t wait?” pope adds, shaking his head and jj throws up his hands.

“i thought that’s what we were doing’ here alright my bad!” he dodges john b’s disapproving swat, eyes wide. “oh that’s where you draw the line? y’all are not real freaks.”

“no.” john b shakes his head, pope chiming in with a “thank god.”

but as their attention lands on you once more, your fingers sinking into that glossy hole — they begin to really reconsider their choice.

[celestialwrites]

fake marriage dialogue ੈ✩‧₊˚

@celestialwrites for more!!

♡ “why did it have to be you?” “what do you mean?” “why did i have to fake it with you?”

♡ “in name only?” “if that is truly what you want.”

♡ “husband, fetch me the remote.” “this is not becoming a thing.” character gets the remote anyway.

♡ “where is your ring?” “oh i left it on the nightstand, i didn’t think you’d care.” “i don’t.” (they care very much.)

♡ “just because we are technically married does not mean we are sleeping in the same bed!”

♡ “i am doing everything i can to remember that you shouldn’t matter to me, to remember that this is all fake, and i am failing tremendously.”

♡ “where are you going?” “to my room?” “our room is that way.”

♡ “i always thought i would marry for love, this is not what i wanted for myself.”

♡ “home sweet home, mrs. (character A’s last name)” “i did not agree to that!” character B screams.

♡ “you were just supposed to be a convenience.”

♡ “don’t worry you will only have to tolerate me for 8 more months, then we can go our separate ways.” “what if i don’t want us to go our separate ways?”

♡ “heck, we do make one good team.”

♡ “hm, i guess you will have to do.” “excuse me?”

♡ “this has got to be the worst decision of my life.” “didn’t you go skydiving without a parachute?”

♡ “i don’t like dogs.” “well too bad, me and mr. bean are a package deal, this was your idea after all.”

♡ “will you marry me again?”

♡ “it has never been fake to me.”

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