#you ever get this image in your head of a guy lurking around the guy who saved his life and then think

[pharmasrightarm]

oops, still feral over pre-war Dead End Dratchet

(drift: you're rusting at every joint gasket: but isn't that doctor chummy with the cops? we're literal thieves??)

started with the headcanon that drift hung around the clinic like a feral wet cat for a while, then halfway through shading these, I started thinking, what if deadlock was an especially reliable assassin because he knew what kind of damage would make sure that even the best of the best couldn't bring you back

[aggroindustrial]

is it really a bad thing to disobey god?

summary. natalie, the stranger who works for your father, makes you question everything you've ever known.

pairing. natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

word count. 3.3k

warnings. smut, smoking, drinking, brief mentions of violence, religious themes, loss of virginity

fic note. i'm honestly not sure if this is even good since it's my first time writing a full fic lol. also my first time writing smut so yeaaa expect some mistakes maybe. and i’m also terrible at writing summaries and the amount of time skips might be a warning as well. anyway please enjoy ^v^

+18. minors do not interact

Longhorn Ranch, located in a forgotten town in the middle of nowhere. Just a name barely hanging onto a rusted highway sign, swallowed by weeds and time. The type of place that feels abandoned, where technology seems like only a rumor, and the sky always looks a sickly shade of blue. The kind of place that truckers speed past without a second glance.

The town had once had promises—a gorgeous train station; wide, thriving and golden wheat fields. Now, the station was long forgotten, only inhabited by rats and insects. The fields were all scorched, victims of too many merciless summers.

It was late June. The sun was high and mean, making the air feel suffocating. Dust from the road clung to the air like a dense fog, crawling down Natalie’s throat with every breath, mingling with the bitter smoke of her cigarette and the old, musty breath of her beat-up truck.

After her latest “incident”, her father pulled the old favor card on her and forced her to offer a helping hand at his friend's ranch for the rest of the summer. It was either that, or spend a few months behind bars for beating up a guy who insulted her friends, Tai and Van, at a bar.

The ranch looked like it had seen better days and only its bones remained. The two-story house, its wood weathered to a dull gray. Wind chimes hung from every corner of it, their eerie jingles the only sound above the distant bleats and calls of livestock.

A sun-bleached and stiff scarecrow standing in front of the house almost seemed to be telling Natalie to abandon all hope out here.

The man met her outside, a rifle slung over his shoulder, his boots dirty with mud and something darker that could've been dried blood. Natalie hopped off her truck, and he greeted her with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

“Your father says you're good with cattle.” He rasped, voice like sandpaper, as he shook her hand.

“I know how not to get kicked by one.” Natalie nodded, shielding her eyes from the sun with the back of her hand.

“That’ll do. You’ll learn.” He nodded. “Hop back in. I’ll give you the tour.”

Natalie nodded again and went back into her truck. He climbed in beside her with a grunt, laying the rifle across his lap.

She caught a glimpse of a person observing her from a window on the second floor of the house, but glanced away without thinking too much about it.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

From your window, you saw her arrive. A brunette stranger. Everything about her screamed sin and regret—from the dark makeup around her eyes, to the sleeveless black shirt and ripped jeans she was wearing.

Your father had mentioned someone would be spending the summer at the ranch to lend him a hand, but you never expected it would be someone like her.

Her sharp gaze met yours, and suddenly your thighs tensed, your hands white-knuckling the windowsill. As much as you tried to ignore it all, thousands of images ran through your head, that you definitely shouldn't be thinking about.

She was everything you were always told to avoid—the big, bad wolf to watch out for, who always lurks in the shadows, waiting to pounce. Ready to devour, to take you away from God's side.

It's what your mother always told you, to never talk to the other men from your small town. But then again, this stranger wasn't exactly a man, so did that mean she wasn't a threat? She sure felt like one, but not the kind you feared.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

A couple days later, Natalie was laying on a thin mattress in the barn loft, staring at slivers of moonlight leaking through the roof. She had discarded her work clothes long ago. Sweat clung to her like an extra layer of skin. It was too damn hot to sleep.

Below her, the cows stirred. One of them let out a quiet huff. She tried not to think about the rifle the man had leaned against the barn door before locking her in for the night.

“Just in case of coyotes.” He said. Natalie didn't think coyotes came that close to the house, but she decided not to question him

She lit another cigarette and took a swig of her now-warm beer.

And then she heard it—the sound of footsteps trying to be quiet but failing miserably.

The door creaked open, just a little. Not enough to let in moonlight, but enough to see a silhouette framed in the crack.

You.

Natalie sat up, and she could feel her heart speeding up in her chest—mostly because she wasn't really looking forward to finding out how your father would react if he saw you with her.

“You got chores, and you got rules. Stay outta the house unless I call you.” He told Natalie while cleaning his rifle. “Don't bring mud inside, my wife hates it.” His gaze lifted from the gun and stared at Natalie pointedly. “And keep your eyes off my daughter. That clear?”

“You lost?” Natalie asked, and stubbed out her cigarette.

You didn’t answer and stepped in, and closed the door behind you.

“I heard noises.” You whispered. “And I couldn’t sleep.”

Her head tilted slightly to the side in curiosity, and the corner of her lips twitched. “And your first idea was to come out of your house and all the way here?"

You blinked, as if you were just now realizing the weight of your actions. It was almost adorable to Natalie, watching the way your innocent, wide eyes filled with nervousness for a second.

“You smell like smoke and beer.” A small mumble left your lips as Natalie took a step closer.

She hummed, and shrugged. “Better than smelling like the shit I have to clean every day.”

You flinched at her words, just a little. But even then, you didn't leave. No, you stayed and observed her like she was the most interesting thing you'd ever seen in your life.

Natalie should’ve told you to go back inside. Your father's rules were clear. That nothing good ever came out of moonlit visits and soft voices, and most definitely out of disobeying a man as scary as him.

But she didn’t. Instead, she watched you like someone watches a flame dancing too close to gasoline.

“My mama says people like you are to be avoided if I do not want to stray from God's path.” Your fingers played with the small, golden cross hanging around your neck.

Natalie stared at you, as if studying you. “What do you say?

Your gaze flickered down to the ground for a moment, but then lifted to look at her again. Even behind that undeniable hint of fear in your eyes, Natalie could notice something raw and hungry, eager to go against everything you've ever known until now.

“I don't know.” You whispered. “I think God is mad at me for thinking stuff I should not be thinking about.”

Her gaze dropped down to your lips, and you seemed to notice. Your shoulders stiffened.

Before Natalie could even think of moving any closer, you took a step backwards immediately, your cross still clutched between your fingers.

“Please don't tell my father I was out of the house.” Was all you said before you hurriedly ran out of the hayloft, leaving a confused Natalie behind.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

The next few days passed in silence.

Natalie kept her head down—cleaning stables, feeding animals, brushing horses. You avoided her like the plague, as you were supposed to.

Although the discreet, curious glances over meals and the quick nervous smiles were gone, too.

Perhaps it was for the best, Natalie thought while she watched the angry rain falling from the cloudy sky.

Getting involved in any way with the daughter of an eerie religious couple didn't seem like the smartest idea.

She worked until the sun hid itself behind the horizon. The rain hadn’t stopped. Not even after she showered and shared a quiet dinner with your family.

That night, thunder cracked like a whip, and rain sneaked through the cracks on the roof. Natalie lay on her mattress, a cigarette burning between her lips.

Her thoughts unraveled—until they were interrupted by the sound of the hayloft door, accompanied by the electric snap of a thunderbolt.

Natalie turned.

There you were—standing in the doorway, soaked, shoulders trembling. You looked frightened, caught between a nightmare and waking.

“I'm scared.” You whispered, staring at Natalie with an almost begging look in your eyes. “Can I please stay here with you?”

It was a dangerous request. Many, many things could go wrong—from your father finding out you sneaked out to be with her, to the temptation of repeating the mistake she’d almost made nights ago.

But she nodded. “Of course. You can come sit, if you want.”

The ghost of a smile passed over your lips for a brief second, before another thunderclap made you flinch, and you crossed the room to sit beside her.

“Thank you.” The words left your lips with a shaky breath. “I’ve always been afraid of thunder.”

“No problem. I get it,” Natalie said, though her hands sat uncharacteristically stiff in her lap. “I used to be afraid, too.”

“That… seems unlikely.” You let out a quiet laugh that lit your face for a short moment. “You look like you’re not afraid of anything.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “I may not look like it, but have a heart, too, you know.”

You giggled again, softer this time. Then silence. It fell between you like a curtain—gentle, yet charged. The kind of silence that trembles with things unspoken, resembling a rubber band wanting to snap with all the tension.

Natalie caught the way you looked at her. The way you swallowed nervously.

“You don't have to be afraid of me. I can tell you are.” She wanted to tell you. But the look in your eyes wasn't fear, unlike she'd first assumed. Not anymore. It was something else—something repressed and caged, practically begging to be set free.

The thought had Natalie's head spinning a little.

Your tongue flicked out to wet your lips, and Natalie’s eyes followed, heat rising in her skin. It felt like you were doing it on purpose to tempt her, but she knew better. You couldn’t possibly be that calculated in that matter.

“Please.”

It was an invitation. A spark. A permission.

It was almost ironic. How your parents had raised you to be their perfect devout daughter, clean of all sin. Only for a stranger to come along and ruin it all by staining your very existence forever.

“You sure?” Natalie asked, voice barely a breath, as she leaned closer—giving you a chance to pull away, to back out and run back into the house like last time.

But you never did.

All you did was nod, and Natalie didn't dare to question you again, selfishly afraid that you would vanish into the night.

Natalie closed the distance between you, her lips brushing yours in a slow, reverent kiss. You were hesitant, unpracticed—but it didn’t matter. She led you gently, her movements careful, tender.

Her hand slid to squeeze your thigh, and you pulled back with a sharp inhale.

“Sorry,” she murmured, eyes searching yours. “Too much?”

“No.” You shook your head, cheeks flushed. “Just… surprised. But I like it.”

Natalie’s fingers danced over the soft fabric of your nightgown, and she kissed you again. This time, there was a hunger behind it. As if she was desperate and ready to consume you whole.

She guided you down onto the mattress gently, her hands coaxing, and her mouth never leaving yours. Only when your lungs screamed for air did she finally pull back.

Small pants and gasps escaped your lips as soon as Natalie moved down to trail her own lips down the column of your neck.

“Let me make you feel good.” She breathed against your ear, taking your earlobe between her teeth.

“I don't know how.” You whispered back while your hands gripped her shoulders. The amount of new sensations and emotions were making you dizzy, heat burning in your stomach and between your legs.

“You don't have to do anything. I'll do it all.” Natalie shook her head and pulled back to look at you. “Only if you want it, too.”

You thought about it for a moment. The cross sitting around your neck was a reminder of how bad all this was. God was probably observing you from Heaven, disappointed that you were so weak for someone you barely knew at all.

“Okay.” You nodded slightly, already out of breath and Natalie hadn't even begun yet.

Perhaps with enough prayers, you could repent for your sins someday.

At some point, her kisses began to turn sloppy and uncoordinated. The desire and passion increased, like a fire engulfing the two of you until all that was left was pure and raw longing for more.

Your forehead rested against Natalie's as her hand gently squeezed one of your breasts. Your fingers wrapped around her wrist.

“I'm ready.” The hushed words slipping from your lips almost made Natalie moan out loud. Instead, she nodded and let her hand move down your torso slowly, wanting to engrave the feeling of every curve of your body in her mind.

Her fingers lifted your nightgown slightly, and she caressed your leg tenderly.

“Are you really sure about this?” She asked once more. “We can stop right now, if you want. It'll be okay.”

But the thought of stopping almost felt like a crime to you.

“I want it.” You reassured her, and cupped her cheek with your hand. “Please, Natalie.”

The sweetest lamb she'd met in her entire life, so innocent and pure, begging to be taken like this.

Natalie wondered how many good deeds she'd done in her past lives to earn this.

Her fingers caressed your panties, slowly moving to the apex of your thighs. You had absolutely soaked through the undergarment, and Natalie's eyes almost rolled to the back of her head at the feeling.

She let out a shallow breath, and began dragging the piece of cloth down your legs slowly while she stared into your eyes the entire time.

Your legs instinctively clamped together after your panties were gone, and Natalie's free hand came up to caress your cheek gently.

“You don't have to feel shy.” She mumbled softly. “I think I'm just as nervous as you are, honestly.” A small smile grew on her lips as she showed you how her hand was trembling slightly. “See?”

It was the first time Natalie felt nervous like that. Not even during the night she lost her own virginity.

The action seemed to help you calm down a little and you let your legs spread open again slowly.

Natalie kissed you. Not like earlier, desperate and hungry—no, it was gentle and sweet, guiding you through the moment.

Her knuckles brushed against your wet folds, making you breathe sharply and pull back from the kiss. She was afraid she'd hurt you somehow, but the quiet mewl that escaped your lips said otherwise.

She repeated the action, and her fingers moved against your clit in slow circles. Your eyes immediately shut and your head dropped down on the mattress with a small thud.

Natalie glanced down and let out a shaky moan when she saw the way you were completely drenched and your hips were moving slightly to meet her touches.

“Fuck…” She whispered, increasing the speed of her movements just a little and it immediately earned a whimper from you. “You're doing so great. Do you like that?”

You nodded at the question, unable to form any words at all.

The sound of your wetness reached your ears and it should've been embarrassing, but you couldn't bring yourself to care about anything at all.

If it's a sin, why does it feel so good? You asked yourself for a moment, but the thought disappeared from your mind when you felt Natalie's finger poking your entrance gently.

Carefully, she slipped it inside of you. She gave you a moment to adjust to the new feeling and kissed your cheek several times to distract you from the dull sensation of pain.

Her thumb found your clit again and pressed against it while she slid her finger in and out of you slowly, earning moans and quiet whines from your throat.

Your arms wrapped around her neck and you pulled her closer for a kiss that she returned eagerly. Ragged breaths and pants left both of your lips as she sped up her movements, to the point where you couldn't kiss her back anymore.

“I think…” Your voice trailed off quietly as your nails dug into her shoulders. It almost made Natalie hiss out of pain.

“Let it happen.” She whispered, kissing your lips one last time. “It'll feel so good, I promise, baby.”

Her voice drowned out, replaced by the loud sound of your heartbeat in your ears as you neared your climax, until you couldn't hold it back anymore.

Your teeth dug into your bottom lip to avoid moaning out loud and your back arched against Natalie. Your legs shut around her hand and she watched you crumbling down under her.

It was the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen.

Natalie helped you come down from your high, whispering sweet words into your ear while her free hand wiped the single tear that rolled down your cheek.

She removed her hand from between your legs and wiped your juices on her shirt with a shaky sigh.

“How are you feeling?”

The question drew a breathless chuckle from you as you opened your eyes.

“Great,” You answered, curling into her side as she lay beside you. “It was good.”

She nodded and kissed the crown of your head, wrapping her arm around your shoulders to hold you close.

The rain still fell, but the thunder had moved on.

“You’ll have to go back to the house soon, huh?” Natalie mumbled, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “I… kinda wish you could stay.”

“Yeah.” Your voice was quiet now. “I wish I could, too. But you know how he is.” The thought of your father finding you like this with Natalie made your blood run cold. “Thank you for tonight. Really.”

Natalie turned her gaze to you and offered a soft smile. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

You began sitting up, reaching for your ruined underwear with a sheepish grin.

“Hopefully there’ll be another thunderstorm tomorrow.” She joked, and you turned to her with wide, scandalized eyes.

“Hey!” You laughed, blushing furiously. “That’s not funny at all.”

She chuckled, biting her lip. “I know. I’m sorry.” She brushed your wrist with her fingers, and leaned in for a quick kiss. “Go. Before he shoots both of us.”

You sighed and nodded, heading to the door. Just before stepping out, you glanced back with a small smile and a wave.

Natalie watched you disappear behind the door. She lay back, the mattress still warm, the memory of you already carved into her mind like a secret prayer.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Days pass again.

You didn't speak. It wasn't exactly a problem—you weren't even supposed to talk to each other, anyway.

But Natalie still longed to hear your voice, to see you smile at her again with that sweetness of yours, like you were handing her a sacred secret.

One night, weeks later—after a long day spent beneath the scorching sun—Natalie returned to the hayloft and found something tucked into the hem of her pillowcase.

A torn page, folded neatly. Your handwriting—neat and elegant.

“Even the stars envy us. Even the saints must have sinned once.”

A slow smile spread across Natalie’s lips, soft and involuntary.

And in her chest, something stirred. Sincere hope, soft and fragile. Blooming like wildflowers after a storm.

[hitomisuzuya]

i remember u writing abt hybrid catboy scara and fox childe and im literally in love🤭🤭

catboy scara fluff ur fluff is literally amazinf

Hybrid! Scaramouche x fem!reader. Fluff fluffy fluff fluff.

I'm really glad you guys enjoy my fluff. I love writing it. I'm not feeling the best so I am sorry if this is shit. I don't want you guys to write me off or abandon me for inactivity 😭

You could feel Scaramouche's cat eyes staring, or rather glaring at you, peeking his little head out just so around corner. He wanted to be close to you while you did chores around the house. But, you know, people sucked. He had an image to uphold.

You turned your head to smile at him. A smile that always took his breath away, be it in his cat or human form. "Come hang out with me while I clean, Scara," You coaxed.

You swore you heard him give his trademark scoff, tinged behind a meow before he darted off around the corner out of sight. You sighed and went about your day.

You decided to try again once you finished cleaning. You knew right where he was, hiding in your room under your bed. "Scara, I'm going to the farmer's market down the road today for some fruit. Do you want to come? We can stop by the grocery store, and get your favorite, expensive cat food."

You saw his eyes staring at you from underneath the bed. You heard a low meow followed by the sound of his stomach growling. Howver, he made no move to come out from under the bed.

You hide a laugh behind your hand, making him glare at you. "Okay, I understand. I'll still pick up cat food and your favorite treats," You left your room, leaving the door open so he could wander the around the house as he liked while you were gone.

Scaramouche came out from under the bed when he heard the front door close. Trotting downstairs, he stared at the front door for a long time. He was being distant and short tempered with you, and you still were being considerate of him.

You were different from other people. He could more than see that. You'd already proved that to him when you'd found him injured. You hadn't dropped him when he clawed at you a little picking him up. You'd bandaged his leg, stayed up reading to him all night and didn't fall asleep until after he did.

He waited right by the front door for you to return, wishing with ever fiber of his being that he had gone with you. Who knows who would be lurking around the corners of the farmer's market or the grocery store, ready to take to you away from him?

"Hi, Scara," You greeted, hearing a soft meow, "you finally came out of hiding. You wanna help me put the groceries away," He trotted into the kitchen behind you, hoping up on the counter to sit with you while you put the groceries away.

"You wanna watch a movie with me after you eat?" You asked, closing the fridge and getting a can of cat food out for him. Scaramouche didn't want to eat first, though.

He just wanted to be with you.

Scaramouche followed you right to the couch, leaving his cat food untouched. You even read the titles outloud to him, scratching him behind his ears and petting him after he settled in your lap. He was just starting to purr softly when he shifted into his human form, sighing contently as he rested his head in your lap.

"Was this what you wanted the whole time, Scara?" You asked, running your fingers through his hair.

"Mhm," He admitted shyly, his cheeks flushing as his ears twitched. After the movie, he slept next to you in his human form, holding you to his chest to keep you warm.

[banggyu0308]

genre: internet strangers to lovers, idol au, smut

warnings: nsfw under the cut, not very coherent, slutty yeonjun, dom!yeonjun, sexting, choking kink, pet names (baby), praise, drinking (they don't get THAT drunk, alright guys?), one night stand-ish, degradation, unprotected sex, breeding kink, handholding, cursing, dacryphilia, yeonjun lurks on social media TT, reader is bold ASF, not proofread

wc: 2.5k+

an: tysm for the username help @itgirlgyu TT + this is just for the delulus + @beomsl MEL YOU REMEMBER WHEN WE TALKED ABT PART OF THIS???? + i might title this later but who knows!!

taglist: @full-sunnies , @agustdiv1ne

yeonjun who likes to wear his tank tops to show off, loves heading onto moa twitter and tumblr after lives just to see the fandom having a meltdown... especially hard stan social media, watching all the comments and photos of himself show up. he likes being in control like this, having the power to make everyone else go crazy just by wearing something else that day.

he scrolls and scrolls and one specific post pops up, it's community labeled and when he clicks 'keep reading', he can see why; pretty tits on display from the original poster, comments in the tags all about how she's all his, and he's not very surprised to feel himself growing hard in his pants. yeonjun eyes the username, ready to click the blue-fonted 'follow' button, but it's already gone, and his eyes widen to see that it's an account he's been following and interacting with for a while. that fact only makes it better, and he's clicking to his chat with you before he can even think it through what he's about to do.

yawnchoi you look really pretty in that new post...

yn what can i say? yeonjun brings out a special part of me 😭

yawnchoi im very sure he feels the exact same

yn in my dreams 😭 don't fuel my deluluness

yawnchoi i'm being very serious right now

yn mhm mhm sureeee and how would YOU know? 😑

yawnchoi ajksdbwsjdhbw maybe this wasn't a good idea

yn WHAT wasn't a good idea, hm? 🤨

yawnchoi baby all i'm trying to do is figure out how to word that i'm yeonjun 😭

yn i do not believe you for one moment

yawnchoi i'll send a pic that i would never, ever post and you can even reverse image search it or whatever or i could send a video, im not messing around baby

yn go ahead then ;-;

yawnchoi [sent a photo]

yn alright so yeonjun would definitely never post a photo of him in his boxers in bed so imma need that video 🙏

yawnchoi [sent a video]

yn oh. oh holy shit choi yeonjun has seen my tits- NOT ONLY HAS HE SEEN MY TITS HE LIKES THEM- one sec imma need to process haha im totally not hyperventilating haha

yn alright im back hi haha

yawnchoi helloooo 👋

yn wow. alright. so. uh. how do i ask this- you wanna see more tit pics?

yawnchoi THAT WAS SO BOLD HELP ME- but yes pleaseeee

yn [sent a photo]

yawnchoi oh baby- holy shit you're so pretty 🥺

yn thanks jjunie kwsnbdwjkd im still like- going crazy rn yawnchoi thats cute baby :((

yn wjhbswhjdhj so- since you've seen my tits i wanna see you again :(( preferably your dick but haha

yawnchoi yeah? pretty baby wants to see my dick?

yn kjwbshwjdbhe yes please?

yawnchoi asking so nicely... alright baby~ [sent a photo]

yn oh 😳 oh fuck alright sjbdsewjh wanna touch :((

yawnchoi me or yourself, baby?

yn well, both, but only one can happen, right? so me-

yawnchoi go ahead, can i see? yn alright 😳 [sent a video]

yawnchoi baby's so pretty :(( wanna see you cum for me <3

yn [sent a video] would be better if you were here :( want you to touch me so bad wjbwjhdbe

yawnchoi can fly you into korea if you want...

yn YOU'RE KISSING *KIDDING

yawnchoi i'm notttttttt dekjbdekj pretty cunt's got me all horny :((

yn i don't even care if it's a one night stand choi fucking yeonjun's gonna fly me out to korea to fuck me heck yeah

---------------------------------

and he does. books a flight last minute for the next day, from your country to seoul, puts on a pair of sunglasses and his least conspicuous outfit, and drives to the airport. he isn't THAT nervous- it's not like he thinks you're gonna murder him.

and when you walk out of the airport building with nothing but a backpack with you, looking around and waving slightly when you see him, his heart quickens just a little. (and NOT just because he's seen you naked).

you decide to sit in the back of his car for no reason other than you want to, and maybe a little bit because you can't exactly handle looking at him straight on quite yet.

to your surprise, there's no awkward small talk, just him getting straight to the point and saying all the members are out of the dorm currently, but, ever the gentleman, he says since you flew a long way, you can sleep a little bit first and he won't bother you.

your whole body is on alert and you find yourself thinking that there's no way you'd be able to sleep now. it's one thing to sext someone knowing they're an idol- another to actually be in the car with them, on your way to where they live, and knowing you're going to actually fuck them.

yeonjun politely takes your bag when you get out of the car, and when his fingers wrap around the strap, his hand brushes yours slightly. you internally feel like you might faint- you hadn't actually prepared yourself for this, and now he was touching you and he feels real and you knew he was real but now it just feels extra.

holding your bag, he opens the door to the dorm, leading you in before following, taking you into his room and placing your bag down on the floor next to his bed. every single action that takes him closer to you makes your face grow hot, the bed dipping slightly under your weight when you sit down. the sheets are soft, but your mind barely registers it, focusing instead on the fact that you are in yeonjun's bed.

he opens his mouth to say something, and you panic, cutting him off quickly with a wry grin and a statement. "i might need some alcohol in my system before we do anything else."

yeonjun raises his eyebrows in the slightest, a little surprised, but he also gets it. he's pretty sure both his body and his mind want you way too much right now, but he's so nervous he might not do anything. his hands are twisted in his lap and he quickly realizes and sits on them instead before standing.

he leads you to the kitchen, getting himself a can of beer and letting you pour yourself a couple shots of vodka. you know your limits- it's just enough for you to get a little tipsy and stop overthinking everything.

knocking one back, you enjoy the burn in your throat before taking the second. the slight buzz under your skin makes you smile slightly, leaning against the counter while he takes long sips of his own drink. it's obvious he wants this to pick up, so you busy yourself messing with his shirt just a little while he drinks. you slip your fingers under his sleeve, mindlessly rubbing your fingertips back and forth over his skin. you can tell he remembered your comments the previous day about his arms, basing his outfit around that.

he has another tank top on today, arms flexing when he brings the can to his lips to take another sip, and you move your hands a little farther down to rest on his chest. this time, when he lowers the can, his lips are a little wet from the drink and you can't help but press a messy kiss to them, licking the liquid off. yeonjun lets out a slight hiss when your tongues meet, left hand reaching behind him to place the can on the counter.

the alcohol must really be working already because you're both stumbling to his room, messily tugging each other's clothes off, and yeonjun leaves a line of wet hickeys up your neck. each and every touch of his skin on yours makes you feel fire burn a trail across your body, but it's in a way that makes you almost absolutely sure that it's not just because he's one of your celebrity crushes, or because you're a little drunk.

yeonjun's movements are so rushed that in seconds he's on top of you, his own shirt off, pants quick to follow once you tug at them. your hands find way to his newly-lightened hair when his lips and tongue meet yours again, a different kind of intoxication weaving itself up and over each of your limbs, the kind of intoxication that makes you want to live and breathe this man.

"want you," he whispers, cheeks pink from the alcohol, his eyes slightly glazed when he looks into yours, and the way he says it makes your cheeks grow hot again.

"go ahead then, 'm all yours," you exhale in response, trying to ignore the way your heart twinges at your own words. this is just a one time thing, you have to remind yourself.

but yeonjun's eyes light up and he presses another kiss to your lower lip, one hand moving between your legs to part them. his eyes lower to your cunt, and you can feel the way your underwear are sticking to your pussy. you'd chosen to wear white underwear today and you're pretty sure they're see-through by now, drenched completely from all the feelings yeonjun's touch is sending through you.

"all mine?" yeonjun mumbles, eyes wide. and when you nod, he smirks slightly. "love your cunt so much, i might just take you right now." your own eyes widen and yeonjun can feel your breath hitch. "but you'd like that, wouldn't you? pretty slut would love her jjunie taking her raw, would love to have me cum inside..."

you suck in a breath through your teeth at his words, nodding quickly, spread out on the bed beneath him. your mouth tastes like alcohol and yeonjun, and your brain tries to forget how he so flippantly called himself your jjunie.

"jjun, just, just fuck me, please?" you whimper out when he rubs a fingertip over your clothed cunt.

"baby asked so nicely, might as well give her what she wants," he coos, tugging off his boxers only once he slides your underwear down your legs. "promise you'll let me taste you next time?"

you nod, too distracted by the fact that he's already planning a 'next time' in his head to realize that he wants to eat you out, but by the time you understand, he has the tip of his cock pressed to your entrance, other hand holding yours as he slowly pushes in. the gesture feels sweet, romantic even, and you let your eyes fall shut when he pauses his movements.

yeonjun's body is pressed flush to yours in a way that allows him to brush his fingers over your neck, skin smooth against you. his hand wraps loosely around your neck and his breath is hot on your cheek when he whispers, "is this okay?"

you nod once more, only because the combination of the alcohol and his body on you is making your brain so fuzzy you can't think clear enough to speak. yeonjun hums lightly and experiments with his grip, making you gasp a little when he also hits your g-spot. he lets out a hiss when your already-tight walls tighten further around him.

he'd had a feeling that you'd feel like heaven around him, just because of the fact you had stated you were only able to fit two fingers inside yourself, but he had obviously underestimated all the sensations that were going to overwhelm him like they are now. every movement of his hips towards yours makes him fight to control the tremble of his body. your hand is linked with the one he doesn't have around your neck and every time he buries himself completely inside you, your hand tightens just a little around his.

he's losing himself just a little, hand still laced with yours, pace quickening until jolty, broken, high pitched moans are the only sound leaving you. yeonjun can't help but smirk at that, hoisting one leg over his shoulder. "fucking pussy is so perfect, almost like it's made for me, taking me so well... might just keep you here, my personal little cumslut, could bring you on tour with us, fuck you every night in the hotel room, how'd you like that, hm?"

his rhythm is so brutal you're choking on your words by now, broken sobs slipping through your parted lips, tears filling your waterline and then slipping down your cheeks, mixing with the slight mascara you'd put on this morning and making your face a mess. yeonjun likes it too, the way he's so easily able to get you like this, just a few words from his lips and you're crying.

he can't help but tell you this with a mocking pout on his lips that turns into yet another smirk, chuckling when all you can do is whimper incoherently. yeonjun kisses you gentle enough to make up for his harsh words though, he's only trying to make you feel good, and he knows you like it when he talks down to you.

one hand still around your neck, the other moves from your hand to your waist, and he's only fucking into you harder when you whine out that you're close. his lips catch yours again when you gasp out his name, gummy walls fluttering around his dick as your whole body shakes from the force of your orgasm, yeonjun's fingertip rubbing at your clit making you convulse under him.

yeonjun bites back a little moan and lowers his lips to your ear again. "can i cum in you, baby? let me make you mine?"

you can't tell if he's just saying it in the heat of the moment, but you nod, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside you.

he bites his lip slightly, only losing control completely when you lick up the side of his neck and bite a splotchy hickey onto his neck. his warm cum fills you as he mumbles out a string of curses mixed with your name against your neck.

yeonjun practically collapses on you once he pulls out but lets himself take a second to marvel at how pretty you look right now, mascara leaking down your cheeks and neck, his cum and yours leaking from your swollen, abused cunt.

you let him wrap his arms around your form, cheek against his chest, both your bodies hot and sweaty, his bangs plastered to his forehead. there's a question on the tip of your tongue but he answers it for you, mumbling in your ear, "will you stay? for longer than just today?" yeonjun pauses slightly, then continues. "i'm not sure if i want you to be just one time. i know that this part of our relationship is new but we've been talking for so long and yeah, i don't want you to go back home and for this never to happen again."

you purse your lips, alcohol fogging up your brain and making you a little too sleepy to respond. "we'll talk tomorrow, hm? it's late and i had a long flight and i'm tired, jjunie..."

he nods slightly, running a hand through his hair, and presses a kiss to your forehead. "goodnight, yn."

"night night, yeonjun," you exhale.

you're almost half asleep when you hear him whisper, "the others'll be home soon, if they see us like this, i'm blaming you..."

[archangeldyke-all]

another idea..

do you think Sevika can dance? I can't get the image out of my head of her slow dancing/grinding with Reader either at The Last Drop or at home 😩

omg... so many thoughts...

men and minors dni

sevika doesn't think she can dance.

when silco takes her up to piltover for fancy dinners and meetings, she's always scoffing and lurking in a corner when guests ballroom dance. she's got no training in formal dance-- and she's got no interest in it either.

but, dancing isn't all just stuffy ballroom dances. and, if you think about it, fighting's really similar to dancing. it's all about reading your partner, and moving in time, and keeping balance.

so while she says she can't dance-- sevika's a fucking menace on the dance floor.

she won't dance with you in the bar until she's sufficiently drunk-- both on you and on liquor. but once she's loosened up and you've teased her enough, sevika can't keep her hands off of you.

it's mostly just rhythmic grinding, whether she's got a thigh between yours or she's pressed against your ass. her hands are always in motion, groping your thighs, ass, tits, stomach, then starting the pattern again. and her mouth is either whispering filthy fucking words in your ear-- all the things she wants to do to you-- or she's sucking hickeys against your neck or fucking her tongue in your mouth.

there have been several times sevika's groping and grinding on the dance floor have turned into clothed fucking. sometimes she'll sneak her hand down your waistband to cup your cunt; sometimes she'll grind against your ass until she's cumming in her pants; sometimes you guys are just so caught up in each other, your lips locked, your legs intertwined as you sway, that you both end up cumming against one another.

at home, she'll dance with you too.

it's more romantic in these moments.

usually, she'll catch you swaying to and fro to some music playing on your little radio while you do household chores, and she'll gather you in her arms to sway along with you.

like while you're cooking dinner, she'll hang off of you, her arms around her hips, as she hums along to the tune and the two of you sway your hips in time to the rhythm.

or, when you're cleaning, she'll turn you around in her arms and sling her arms around your waist, pulling yours up to rest on her shoulders.

she'll press her forehead against yours as you sway, drawing little circles into your hips with her thumbs, sometimes shooting forward to press a peck to your lips.

she's always sweet-talking you when she's got you like this, in her arms gently dancing around your living room.

"you're so fucking beautiful. can't keep my hands off of you." she whispers.

"feeling's mutual, baby." you whisper back. she smiles.

"i'm so in love with you it's kinda crazy." she says. you grin.

"me too, baby." you say, darting forward to kiss her. "you're such a sap." you say against her lips. she chuckles.

"only for you."

your heart melts, and you take a half step back to hold sevika's hand in yours, raising it over your heads to spin her beneath your arms. she giggles, and you pull her back to your chest, resting your ear against her heart.

"you're a good dancer." you say. she snorts.

"yeah, right." she mumbles. you pinch her hip and she squeaks.

"you are!"

"i only ever dance with you, y'know." she says. you grin.

"well, aren't i special?" you ask. she grins and nods, taking her turn to spin you, before pulling you in for a kiss.

"so special." she agrees against your lips.

taglist!

@lesbeaniegreenie @fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki

[itzpookiepooh]

Revenge alt 4

Read at your own discretion

Do not copy my work

The harsh winds were whipping past your ears. You looked around at everyone’s solemn faces. It had been a long night longer than that night a year ago. The snow crunching beneath your boots as you all tread through the snow storm, barely able to see what’s in front of you. When you finally see something it’s the light connected to the cable car.

You sighed in relief as you all pile into the room so that Josh could cut it on. Josh takes out the key but when he tries to put it in it doesn’t budge. He tries and tries before Sam stops him telling him he’ll snap it. He slams his hands on it repeatedly until Sam yells at him to stop. The ignition was frozen. The cable car was close enough to reach but there was no power. You could feel your chest tighten.

“Fuck…what now?” Jessica groans a tinge of fear in her voice.

“All we can do is wait it out unless someone has a lighter.” You tell them, hugging yourself.

“We’re vulnerable out here! Have you forgotten who’s up here?” Jessica complains as she turns her back to everyone.

Mike sighs as he sits down to think. Josh was still hunched over the power console. He felt so helpless. His breathing was heavy as the image of Beth’s body flashed through his head. He swallowed back a gut wrenching sensation in his throat. He wanted to scream into the blizzard. He wanted his sister back.

Your face. Damn it your face riddled with fear and Beth’s blood. Your quaking body as you held her against your body. Tears streaming uncontrollably down your cheeks as you try and keep her alive. It was all engraved into his mind. He couldn’t shake it and he doesn’t think he ever will.

“Wait guys look.” Jessica says enthusiastically waving them over to a map on the wall.

You all skim over it. This mountain was more than just lodges and cabins. That you knew well but not well enough. You tilt your head before pointing to the sanatorium. You didn’t know this was up here. You thought this was just decoration.

“This is from an old movie though? Apparently the sanatorium was built for some old 40s movie.” Hannah explained. Their parents always collected stuff like that and hung it up somewhere they lived. Vacation homes or other properties.

“Still…maybe we can find refuge.” Sam explains to Hannah making everyone else nod.

“We can’t stay out here for that…thing to come find us.” Jessica says shakily at the thought of being caught by it.

“What other choice do we have?” You ask irritation laced in your tone. You looked out towards the cart.

“Someone can stay here til morning. No one can leave anyway. He wouldn’t come back up here.” Mike suggested with a shrug.

“That’s a stupid idea, Mike.” Josh hissed over his shoulder. Mike threw his hands up in defeat.

Meanwhile Emily and Matt were on the tower getting help while Ashley and Chris stayed on lower platforms as their eyes. Who knows where this psychopath could be lurking from. Ashley’s mascara stained her face giving her raccoon eyes. She couldn’t believe what happened to Beth.

Emily called for help but the signal was bad. The dispatcher couldn’t hear a word she said. All they knew was that there were kids stuck on a mountain. The dispatcher paid it no mind. The sun would be up in a few hours and they’d be able to get down without their help. However, the issue was this storm was a big one who knew if dawn would even save them.

Emily grew frustrated. Tears sprang to her eyes. It was her fault Beth died. If she would’ve kept quiet like he asked she would’ve still been here. She roughly wipes her eyes before taking a deep breath. Matt stares out the window contemplating their next move. They were running out of ideas and they couldn’t think if their minds were racing like this.

“We should regroup.” Matt states facing his disheveled girlfriend. She stared at him for a moment before nodding.

“That would be best.” She mumbled as they go gather Ashley and Chris.

The group met up still shaken when they meet up. They discussed what happened at the cable car. Chris shakes his head in disappointment. There was no other way down other than to climb and that probably wasn’t the best idea. You guys were stuck between a rock and a hard place.

“Shit.” Jess mumbles patting her pockets. Mike raises an eyebrow in her direction.

“What?” He asked before repeating it again because she didn’t answer.

“My phone.” She snapped as she stomped her foot. The group looked at her as if she grew another limb. Who cares about her stupid phone right now?

“That’s what’s important right now?” You snap at her making her glare at you.

“My parents have bought me 4 alone this year! They’ll never get me another one!” She snaps back at you getting in your face. You don’t back down instead, you step up.

“We just watched our friend get murdered and you’re worried about a phone that doesn’t work up here!” You yell in her face. The group had never seen you like this they were shocked to say the least.

“Well sorry—“ She almost finished her sarcastic remark until Mike stood between you both and Hannah pulled you away.

“Let’s calm down.” Mike orders before eyeing Jess.

In the midst of the argument you all had to tread back to the lodge. It was a terrifying walk you weren’t even half way there. You held onto the back of Josh’s vest to help guide you. Then you hear heavy footsteps behind you. You try your best not to turn around trying not to think nothing of it. You were paranoid and rightfully so.

“Guys?” You turn but they’re not there. You guessed they ran ahead but you didn’t notice you lagged behind nor that you let go of Josh. You treaded through the thick snow as fast as you could until you saw their silhouettes. You sighed in relief as you went to continue walking when your hair was pulled yanking you backwards.

You thrashed and screamed as you were dragged farther and farther away. You could hear screams of your name as you grabbed the wrist that dragged you through the snow. Snow gathered in your coat and jeans soaked your shirt and pants. You screamed at the figure to let you go. You switched from their wrist to holding the root of your hair.

Josh told Hannah to stay but Mike told him to stay. He needed to be there for his sister. She needed him the most. Mike ran off to find you while the others ran to the lodge for refuge. He ran unable to see what was in front of him but determination fueled him. He followed your screams before he could make it he heard your pleading.

“No! No! Please no!” You begged before a loud cracking was heard. Mike couldn’t imagine what was happening to you. When he found you the killer was gone but your body remained. His body shook as he saw your lifeless body lying there. Your jaw was pried open and removed leaving your tongue out. The killer also broke your neck leaving your head in an odd position. Your eyes void of life as you laid there in a defensive pose.

Mike’s jaw fell agape. He covered his mouth taking slow steps back. The pool of blood enough to make him puke. The killer emerged from the shadows behind your body and looms over you. The killer tilted his head before stepping over your body towards Mike who scrambled to run away. He ran until the footsteps were no longer heard. He ran all the way to the lodge his adrenaline pumping and moving his body.

When he made it to the lodge he practically barreled through the door. The others were in the living room a confused look on their faces. He locks the door walking towards them shakily. He stumbles over his feet before falling to his knees.

“Where’s Dove?” Hannah asked a tremble in her tone as if she had an inkling of what happened. He just shook his head not physically able to answer her.

“Mike, what happened?” Josh asked slowly trying to hold back his anger, his sadness.

“I couldn’t save Dove.” He mumbled watching his hands tremble.

I hope you’re ready for a wild ride guys 🙂‍↕️

Divider: @strangergraphics

[leejenowrld]

For a long time, even in previous chapters I've been curious about the presence of Eric and Sunwoo’s presence in Jeno’s life. They feel like people lurking in the background, but their influence is strong enough to shake him. It’s clear that whatever hold they have over him isn’t just about money or bad deals—it’s something much more personal, something that directly affects his sense of control.

But what is it that actually scares Jeno so much?

It could be that Eric and Sunwoo reflect a version of himself that he doesn’t want to acknowledge. Jeno has spent so much of his life carefully curating his image, making sure he’s seen as the confident, untouchable captain. But around them, we see cracks—his performance on the court slipping, his stress overtaking his ability to play. If they were only about money, he could have found a way out. But it seems like they know something that makes Jeno feel powerless in a way he never does around anyone else.

Or maybe it’s about his father. The fact that Jeno has always struggled to escape his father’s expectations means that if Eric and Sunwoo are using his family against him, it’s hitting a wound that never healed. It’s not just about the games anymore—it’s about his past, his identity, his own ability to make choices without being controlled.

-💕

jeno’s fear of eric and sunwoo isn’t just about money, or reputation, or even control—it’s about exposure. about the parts of himself he’s spent years burying finally catching up to him.

they aren’t just guys lurking in the background; they know him in a way that no one else does. not the version of him that commands a court, that carries the weight of a team on his back, that walks through campus with that easy, effortless confidence. they know the before. the kid who wasn’t untouchable, who wasn’t in control. who was desperate to prove himself, desperate to belong, desperate enough to make decisions he can’t afford to look back on now.

but he never really escaped, did he? not completely. because they never let him.

the reason eric and sunwoo shake him isn’t because they hold power over him—it’s because they remind him that he was never the one in power to begin with. around them, he’s not captain, not the guy who has everything under control. he’s something smaller. something weaker. they speak to him in a language he thought he had outgrown, pull him back into dynamics he thought he had left behind. it’s not just about the money or whatever deal they might have hanging over his head—it’s about the way they look at him like they still own him. like they know, no matter how far he runs, he’ll never be more than the kid who owed them something.

and the worst part? he feels it, too.

because even with all the work he’s put into sculpting himself into the jeno the world sees now, even with the strength, the skill, the discipline—he feels the pull of the past when they’re around. like no matter how much he tries to distance himself from whatever hold they had on him before, they still have the ability to make him feel small.

it’s easy to believe you’ve changed when no one from your past is around to remind you who you used to be. but eric and sunwoo? they were there. they knew him. and worse—they know things that no one else does. things that could crack his carefully constructed world open in an instant.

and yeah, maybe it is about his father, too. because his whole life, he’s been fighting to prove something—to be better, to be stronger, to be someone his father can’t control. but eric and sunwoo’s presence reminds him that no matter how far he gets, how high he climbs, there are still people out there who can pull him back down. and if his father ever found out the full extent of it? if mark did?

jeno doesn’t let himself think about it.

because the moment he does, it all comes crashing down.

[theboarsbride]

im obsessed with your terror bear wife pls tell me all about her and her adventures with sir john

EEHEHEHE IM SO GLAD WAGH THANK YOU HKSHDSKJDSKJSDKJDS🥹it means a lot that you guys like my silliness!!💕

(also forgive me for rambling, i'm like half awake after finishing assignments so my brain is tired but is also excited to ramble about bear wife-)

basically she (idk if i'll ever give her a name, but bear-wife just sounds so silly but...no name for now ig, maybe i'll call her lady-bear or smth idk) is just a hallucination as a result of Sir John getting lead poisoning, and is lowkey a manifestation of his all-consuming hubris coming to haunt and 'consume' him in return. (she gnaws at his flesh a lot without ever leaving a mark...especially around his face and throat, while her hands will hold him intimately, such as with embraces, touches on the shoulder or knee, caressing his face, etc. to create a sensual and uncanny image, because how much is it his 'wife' and how much is it a haunting?) Sometimes she lurks in shadowy corners watching him with unblinking eyes (that glow with that tapetum lucidum look animal's eyes have, while having very much a human sentience and emotion of disdain), is staring at him from the darkness of the Arctic, or will just be sitting on the foot of his bed - just waiting to fuck with him.

Also she mimics the sounds of his wife's voice (or at least sounds she makes, as she doesn't really speak WORDS, more like garbled gibberish), but they sound scratchy and warped and wrong. so yeah!! psychological terrors heehee! So she literally whispers 'sweet nothings' into his ear before she grazes her teeth across skin, it's all fun and cheer here!

and just for shits and giggles i need it to be known that i like to pretend sir john just says 'fuck it' at some point and accepts this hallucination haunting him and lets her flop on him in bed, or will let her lay her head in his lap, like a giant lap dog. gives her scritches behind the ear and under the chin, the whole nine yards-

but....yeah... this is nonsense but this is MY nonsense, and tysm again for wanting to know more AAAAAGH!!!!!💕

[kvetchinglyneurotic]

hello terrifying talented friend! i come bearing more ask game numbers than is reasonable so feel free to pick and choose!

2, 11, 13, 17, 35, 73, 81

💚💚💚

Thank you my friend!

2. talk about a notable time a narrative or character has looked you dead in the eyes and said ���fuck your plan, here’s what we’re actually doing.”

This was what happened with most of the back half of The Hedgehog’s Dilemma! I intended for Ted to have a fairly minor role, but I wrote his conversation with Jamie in chapter 3 and there was so much of his own baggage with his dad lurking under the surface that it promoted him to one of the main characters. James Tartt also unexpectedly invited himself to practice while I was writing the scene where Jamie picks him up from the train station in chapter 5, and the fallout of that ended up being most of the plot for the rest of the chapter. 

11. what’s something neat you’ve learned while doing research for something you were writing? also, how much do you worry about doing research in general?

I know so much about reality dating shows now, including a bunch of research into American shows that I probably didn’t need to do. Apparently after someone gets eliminated from The Bachelor, they have to ride around in the back of a limo with one of the producers until they could get a shot of them crying, even if it takes a very long time (which is maybe more sad than neat). 

How much research I do for my fics depends on how much research I have to do in my academic life — when my life was consumed by thesis research over the summer, I hardly did any, but now that I’m mostly onto the writing/editing portions, I do it more often.

13. talk about a writing experience that has pleasantly surprised you.

Writing fanfic! I think I’ve mentioned before that I started off writing original fic, and for some reason I was convinced that fanfic would be way more difficult. It isn’t, and furthermore is a lot of fun. 

17. what is your favorite line you’ve ever written?

Damn you, inability to remember any line I’ve written after I’ve written it! I’ll go with: 

They’d got stuck to each other, these past days, like those little birds that rode around on top of capybaras but if the capybara saved the bird from his shitty bird dad and promised to take him home to see his bird mum, and in return the bird was so blindingly handsome and good at football that the capybara was honoured to have him riding around on his back, actually, even if he pretended not to be ‘cause he was a grumpy old twat.  

from THD because I got a lot of nice comments about it, so now capybaras are permanently associated in my mind with people being nice to me on the internet, in addition to already being my favourite animal. I love those funky little guys. 

35. tell us about a character who’s very different than you who you love a whole lot

Rebecca! She’s a delightful schemer in season 1, very poised and put together on the outside but kind of earnest and sweet on the inside. I’m also occasionally a schemer, but we’re generally very different people and want very different things out of life — I don’t think anyone would describe me as poised or earnest, and I don’t want a life partner of any kind, and definitely not kids. 

73. how do you visualize scenes? do you see it like a movie in your head, or do the words just flow?

I can picture some scenes very clearly, but more often as static images rather than like a movie, so it’s a mix of trying to describe what I see in my head and just writing. 

81. if you could go back in time and give your younger self a piece of writing advice specific to you, what would it be?

You don’t have to write quickly! It’s okay if you don’t make your word count every day or takes days off or set lower goals. In fact it often works better — it’s easier to be deliberate in your writing when you aren’t pushing to write a chapter a week. 

[lanabotomy]

The Female Rage Consumes Me

“Female rage,” sounded like an oxymoron for the majority of my life. The characterization of the words alone create this kind of juxtaposition that seems unrealistic. Female; womanly, kind, soft, gentle, all these words just to portray this image of innocence and purity. Rage; ugly, consuming, violent, the word itself feels inherently masculine. And yet, I watch and listen as the rage fully envelope and consume me.

I don’t know when the idea of Female Rage enraptured my brain, but I could say it started when I read a silly little book by Margaret Atwood called The Robber Bride.

“Male fantasies, male fantasies, is everything run by male fantasies? Up on a pedestal or down on your knees, it's all a male fantasy: that you're strong enough to take what they dish out, or else too weak to do anything about it. Even pretending you aren't catering to male fantasies is a male fantasy: pretending you're unseen, pretending you have a life of your own, that you can wash your feet and comb your hair unconscious of the ever-present watcher peering through the keyhole, peering through the keyhole in your own head, if nowhere else. You are a woman with a man inside watching a woman. You are your own voyeur.”

The idea that I can never fully be myself without the ever lurking man watching me, sexualizing me, consuming me like a piece of media only to be spat out once I fulfilled his satisfaction, it disgusts me. To worsen the matter, I know deep in my soul, that if I wasn’t desired, I wouldn’t know who to be. I don’t even know which parts of me are real or which parts of me have been created in pursuit of this ideal “male fantasy” I have created in my head subconsciously, and that enrages me even further.

Is the rage I feel even valid? Maybe my rage is actually just a deep rooted fear, a fear of what has or what could happen to me. I remember those lurking eyes on me since the age of 9, taking out the trash around 9PM in my galaxy leggings, those men yelling at me, asking me where I am from and where I live, what plans I had. All I could do was run in fear. I remember being 6, my mother’s boyfriend holding my hand and telling me that he’d marry my mother one day, what felt like a threat, those peering eyes undressing me, that hand burning a hole through me, as if the ghost of his perverted touch was still there. Or maybe it was those days in school when I would get groped, almost daily by the boys, the teachers said I was more developed and to expect those things, to wear less revealing clothes. I wore star wars shirts, lord of the rings shirts, and DC clothes. What was so sexually appealing about that? The worst memory of all…. I was forced out of my dorm room while 5 drunk guys stayed with us, none of them my guests. I remember just wanting to sleep. I remember one of those guys being weird, and avoiding him all night. I was so tired that night, and yet I didn’t want to sleep. He snuck into my bed, put his hand over my mouth, and did what he needed to do to satisfy himself. The unwanted touching, the unwanted stares, the unwanted attention. I feel like a walking piece of meat in the land of hungry wolves; A temptation to be consumed.

The rage that consumes me comes from a place of fear, and a place of knowing that I cannot be helped. One in three women experience sexual assault within their life, one in five experience rape, and yet only one in one thousand rapists face persecution, and that is only from reported cases. More than 2 out of 3 cases go unreported. Those are just the basic statistics. Imagine them in other situations; homeless women, women in 3rd world countries, women of color, women in the military, queer women, women in prisions, women in situations where they are helpless. I cant even begin to fathom the stories that would pile up beside me if I was able to speak to every woman, every feminine person, everyone who has a story.

To be so helpless in a world that doesn’t support me, it’s simply sickening. And I live the “Land of the Free, Land of endless Opportunities.” I feel the rage of my sisters, or the women around the world who know and understand me.

[maguro13-2]

The Dark Beginnings ~ Origins of the Ink Demon Chapter 0 Pt.13 (2/2) ~

*CLOCK RINGING!*

Tsugumi Harudori : (yawns) Aw man. Last night, attacking the bad guys was a pleasant wild night for me that I was the masked warrior, but eventually, I wielded a powerful Halberd in my hand because being hero is that easy. (enters the bathroom to look into the mirror) I am so much in pain last night. I've taken my medicine last night and I get the strangest feeling that I was that masked warrior that fighting the threat of all...I need something to do with my hair. It's gone messy around! (Wings flapping) Hmm? Strange, I don't remember a bird flapping it's wings before, but I do believe that I heard flapping in my wings or something grew out of my...!?

*DBZ SFX : SURPRISE!*

Tsugumi Harudori : What's going on?! How did these wings grew out of my back? Am I a demon, a dragon or something? How did this happened before? That mask! (flashbacks of Tsugumi carrying Meta Knight's mask along) I knew that the mask I received has the power to turn into this! This is...the birth of a new hero? Oh man! This is weird, how do I get it off!? Wait a sec, if I can revert these bat-like wings on the back of me, I could really-(suddenly, the wings turns into Meta Knight's cape to cloak herself) What? How did these wings turn into a...What's going on? How did I not know these powers?

Doc Waruyama : Meta Knight's Cape has the power to transform into wings! (laughs evilly)

Tsugumi Harudori : Deja Vu! This must be the power of a warrior's cape and mask! This is incredible! I'm finally becoming the hero of my own story! Now then, heading to eat breakfast!

(cuts to Tsugumi heading towards the dining table)

Tsugumi's Mother : Ohayou, Tsugumi. Today's the test. Did you finished your studies?

Tsugumi Harudori : Sure did! I finally able to ace it on my own and I didn't overdue it. So, you have my toast ready?

Tsugumi's Mother : Of course, it's ready. By the way, I heard that a masked hero have defeated a lot of bad guys and crooks that were severed. And I believe that the people discovered that is was a warrior that it's cape has transformed into wings.

Tsugumi Harudori : Masked hero...wings?

(images shows Tsugumi fighting the bad guys and gangs)

Tsugumi Harudori : Oh, you don't wanna know, ma. It's just an excrusion to thinking that a Warrior appeared in the other day. But I believe it maybe a sign for a warrior. I hope it might return one day, or probably it's just hiding somewhere in the shadows. That's on me. So anyway, I'm heading off to school.

[Metro City (Day) - Yutaka Minobe]

Tsugumi Harudori : (leaving the house, while holding her toast with her teeth) Okay, ma! I gotta get goingl! See ya later!

Tsugumi's Harudori : Okay, sweetie! See ya after school!

"I'm Tsugumi Harudori. I'm only 14 years old and I'm an otaku fan that is notably for being a great designer of science fiction models like Gundam, and many other sci-fi action figures. My suggestion that I was a kid who always believed in heroism and many heroes that lived in this country are superheros, but in that case, I'm a first year student that has been playing video games. But hey, at least I did girlish things for my friends tho."

"Ever since Soul Eater Mysteriously existed, there was something unknown to that place that had the weirdly symbols called the eyes of Kishin, but they weren't, they belong to a world called the Shadow Realm, and it's come to my attention that Soul Eater and world of it was really a facade to the Shadow Realm, alright."

"Detectives from all over the world were fighting crime to solve mysteries to uncover the secrets of Shadow Realm's whereabouts, heartless are creatures born from people's hearts, and they lurk in the shadows to have the ability to disguise their selves as humans that we all know. Believing that they might have a connection with the monster Zorc Necrophades, legendary dark one and creator of the Shadow Realm."

"Zorc has not been under the influence of Shinra Kuskabe, neither his son Death himself. He has been using the evil forces in Soul World as a diversion for demon vibe's galactic conquest. But hey, at least the world of light knows that it's Angel Vibe's duty to keep us out of the darkness ourselves. Hope anything that we may have a brighter future ahead of us."

[Bell Tolls]

Teacher : Alright, students. Please be seated and we will now begin the test. Now, Please open your textbooks...

[PigeonBlood Ost : Discretion]

Tsugumi Harudori : (in mind) Hmmm...quite mysterious about that mask, I wonder what happened on that night.

(a flashback shows a possessed Tsugumi wielding a Halberd while attacking the criminals)

Tsugumi Harudori : (in mind) Nothing's too much about it. All those people I killed, it was definitely me alright. I don't know why I killed those people from the powers of that mask. So familiar. Did I do something weird, or was it killing bad ones was just a test to find out how did that mask gave me the power of these wings? Especially, I'm just nervous about that I am aware of these powers I didn't even know what's gonna happen if I did something wrong in Tokyo.

(later cuts to Tsugumi outside at the rooftop, looking at the clouds)

Tsugumi Harudori : So, about having a mask that is so rare to wear it. I wonder who gave me it to me? Can this be a gift from another warrior, or was this my test to be worthy for the hero I wanted to be in my own story, my true story. (looks at Meta Knight's mask) Nothing much, it's just a mask that doesn't have any much powers, tho I might right or wrong, it's my choice to be the hero that I wanted to be.

Tatane Meme : What are you doing out here, Tsugumi!

Tsugumi : YIKES! Meme-chan! What are you doing here?

Tatane Meme : I just wanted to drop by and to see how are you doing to get a crisp-clear view of watching the sky. It's pleasant that I wanted to have my lunch with you. I already I got mine.

Tsugumi Harudori : I got myself some lunch. My mom made it for me.

Tatane Meme : So anything happened last night?

Tsugumi Harudori : Yeah, I don't know what on that night. I believe the masked warrior wielding axe while wearing the mask was so mysterious, it made me killed all of those people that were threat to the innocence. But what if someone was just a somebody and I'm a nobody? If there was really a hero that existed, I don't know why Soul Eater existed in the first place? It's because of this stupid "Influence" caused by the Kusakabe.

Tatane Meme : But, Tsugumi, I did know! I did know it! Shinra was the one who brought that influence.

[PigeonBlood OST : Night Moorning]

Tsugumi Harudori : Meme-Chan, are you really sure about that?

Tatane Meme : Of course, Tsugumi-chan. That warrior who wielded the halberd and killed all of those people, it was...it was you. The one who gave you that mask, was a simply created by the masked warrior Meta Knight. He must've gave it to you as a part of your test to become a warrior and hero to them all. The news was spreading like flames when everyone heard that the masked warrior wielding the Halberd was called Sir Halberd Knight.

Tsugumi Harudori : Sir Halberd Knight? The warrior who fought alondside with him? Now I remember, that masked that I wore belonging to the original Sir Halberd Knight, who was once the rival to the powerful warrior that ever existed, Galacta Knight. He faced his enemies in combat and he wields a powerful halberd that has been passed down for generations. Eventually, due to his sudden disappearance, Meta Knight and the other knights have discovered a body that was a wounded warrior in battle with the wizard Nightmare or eNeMeE that was battling with a bunch of monsters, and I just found out that the body turned out to be Sir Halberd Knight himself, who was attacked by the hands of Nightmare himself. Meta Knight would never forgive him for what he did and Nightmare was imprisoned within in the Fountain of Dreams at Rainbow Resort.

Tatane Meme : So Nightmare did kill him, He did that before Marx did it to Meta Knight. It's no wonder villains are always up to their tricks and therefore, It's a bad thing that has ever happened to this world. We don't why villains were up to destroy the world, probably, it's much more likely then genocide or omnicide. No one in the universes saying they were gods, but what did you expected the stories about heroes and villains conflicting each other?

Tsugumi Harudori : Beats me. Criminals, terrorists, and vicious monster attacks that happened humanity this bad. Nobody knows that why Real World AU is being harmed by the Ohkuboverse, why did it existed in the first place? Can we all agree that being hero is nothing but life consuming work. I never wanted to join the school, to think I am a tool to Shinra's Kind. the Mabuki aren't created by the witches and their magic, it was only Alchemy as the secret ingredient. This was nothing more than a big cover up by Shinra's men of Influence.

(DOOR OPENS)

Tsugumi Harudori : ?! Thank goodness, someone has arrived. Anya Hepburn. I should be thanking you for...Anya, what happened? Did something did this to you? You spilled Tomato juice or is it marinara sauce that we needed for the mozzarella sticks?

Tatane Meme : Umm...Tsugumi-chan?

Tsugumi Harudori : What is it? (hears blood dripping)...Oh God! Anya! Anya! You're...You're bleeding! Anya! What happened!? How did you get yourself wounded!? Was there an accident at the school!

Anya Hepburn : *breathes heavily* That was no accident. It was an attack...from that masked warrior!

Tsugumi Harudori : An attack? What attack? Is it the heartless?

Anya Hepburn : It may have been the heartless, but there is someone else that did the job. There is a mysterious warrior that looks alike meta knight and he says that he's from the Mirror World. He wants to meet with you at the Track and field, soon as possible!

Tsugumi Harudori : Don't worry. I'll go meet someone at the track and field, I gotta the meet the bastard that is responsible for attacking my best friend.

Anya Hepburn : Hurry and find this masked knight that did this to me and others!

Tsugumi Harudori : Okay, Anya! I will! Meme-chan! You look after Anya, I'll go meet up with the warrior! I will show him what a true hero that can do! This is my moment to shine!

"You have gotten your courage to save lives and yet your heart says you have acknowledge the skill of a warrior. You are ready to save the innocence and protect those who are needed for a desperate plea for help."

"And the answers have been made by your brave actions."

"Go Forth, new Sir Halberd Knight! And be the bravest warrior that you truly are!"

~ Prologue 13 : Enter Sir Halberd Pt.2 ~

[misterbrick42-slaytheprincess]

A list of all the custom paths I've made, and the AUs

StP The Poisonous (actually published): A deadly trickster, if not a bit silly, who can kill you in a single touch. Paired with the Voice of the Hesitant, best suited by the Freeze response, and main desire is to just not do anything.

StP The World Ender (actually published): Can only be reached if you NEVER doubt the Narrator in chapter one. She is exactly what the Narrator describes her to be... or is she? Will you give in to your same mistakes, or arrive rather late to realizing that there's something else going on here? Comes with the Voice of the Advocate, world champion in Suck Up.

StP The Double: There's two princesses. Depending on what you do, they can wildly change. They all look similar to other Chapter Two princesses, but more tame. Comes with the Voices of the Split: Who work as two voices in one. One is against the princess, one is for her.

StP The Rival: A toned down version of the Adversary where you fight the princess unarmed. It's clear that the Princess is just humoring you when she agrees to fight on equal terms with you. Comes with the Voice of the Honorable, who will refuse to play dirty, unless the person they're fighting against plays dirty first. Cares a lot about self-image.

StP The Blur: When leaving the princess in the basement, if you try to leave the cabin altogether and forget this happened, you will discover it to be less than effective. Comes with Voice of the Regretful, who regrets every action you've ever taken, and says as much. The Princess is a multi-armed monstrosity that you... can't make out anything else about, because Regretful refuses to let you. She's held underground behind iron bars; no staircase or basement here.

Not custom paths, but entirely new AUs:

Adventurer In The Cabin In The Woods (so close to being finished but i never got around to making the finale.): And in a completely different thing separate from base game, you play as a nameless Adventurer, who is just an ordinary guy swept up into whatever LQ and Shifty have going on. Across five runs, use DnD mechanics and dice rolling to make friends, make enemies, and prove that you have a place in this story. Five runs are out and i don't think i'm going to get around to finishing that finale.

Path Through the Woods: In this AU, you and the Princess are in a Caravan on a path to a Cabin, which is said to contain what you desire most. However, the Narrator warns you that the Princess is evil, and will use what it holds to destroy this world. Will you slay her to ensure she can't? Disregard the Narrator and head there together? Or abandon the Caravan and ensure that you arrive there first? The woods are dangerous, and be warned that it's unwise to turn back... something dangerous is always lurking in the opposite direction. (it's not the Princess.)

Unending Dawn (mainly a concept): This AU takes place after one of the endings. Take a wild guess which one. Play as an entirely new character, and be guided by an entirely new narrator in a quest to save the world by slaying this seemingly harmless bird. This bird is not the Princess, but he is reactionary. Your assumptions generally prove to be correct. Find him somewhere in his larger cabin, be it upstairs, the kitchen, the basement, or outside overlooking the giant sun that casts no light, slay him, save the world, and perhaps find out what exactly you're ending when you do so.

A Story Retold: In what appears to be a slight altercation but is really a complete reworking of the plot from the ground-up, instead of getting more voices when you start a new chapter, you gain a new narrator. That's it, that's the premise. Also LQ and Shifty are not here.

In lieu of me finishing these stories, please ask me questions about them. please. please. oh god please grill me for details about these.

i should make a sideblog so all the slay the princess shit i talk about isn't caught in between my reblogs

[specialagentlokitty]

Alice x reader - future

29 and 30 with Alice Cullen and female Witch reader? - Anon💜

29. “I want to be the one you think of when you see something cute, I want to be the one that makes you smile at your phone or makes a hard day better.”

30. “I just know it won’t happen…”

Part of being a witch was reading the future, seeing it and making a choice based on the events you seen.

You never once looked into your own future, but when Alice came to you asking to look into her future you didn’t have a choice.

Being part of her life you knew you’d see some of you there as well.

“Can I have your hand?”

“Of course.” She smiled.

Alice placed her palm in yours and you looked at her.

“Is there anything I’m looking for?”

“Just what my future is like.”

You smiled and nodded, closing your eyes.

It took a few minutes to find the path to her mind but when you did you took it and let the images flash by.

Fighting to protect her family, finding someone for Bella. Moving time and time again with the coven and Jasper, you quickly opened your eyes and gave her a sad smile.

“Your future is perfect.”

“Are you sure?”

You hummed and nodded, focusing on the book you had in front of you instead.

“Yeah. You’ll be very happy.”

“Thank you~” she sang.

Alice quickly hugged you before running you and you turned to Edward who was lurking in the corner of the room.

He was watching as it played out.

“You should tell her.”

“She won’t be affected by me not being there. Leave it Edward.”

Getting up, you left the room as well.

After finding out you weren’t in her future you decided to distance yourself from the vampire, throwing yourself into work and clients.

While you were getting ready to go on a trip with some paranormal investigators, you were stopped by someone knocking on your door.

“(Y/N)?” Alice called.

“Yes, it’s open!”

The door quickly opened and closed and you watched as Alice came in, a frown on her face.

“Edward told me.”

“What?”

“You’re not in my future. You were no where to be seen. You’re my best friend, I don’t want to loose you.”

“Alice sometimes things happen, you know this.”

“But you should still be with me!” She argued.

“Alice, the future is absolute! You and I both know there’s no changing what I saw. The moment I saw that future it was set in stone.”

“We can still try change it…” she whispered.

You sighed, shaking your head at her as you carried on packing your things.

Rushing over, Alice took you by the hand and moved you away from your bag, taking you to sit in the living room instead.

She let go and sat on the table in front of you.

“Why? Why won’t you try?”

“You really want to know why?”

“Yes! Because you’ve been acting weird ever since you found out! It’s like I’m loosing you already!”

“It’s because I want you Alice!”

Both of you stared at one another for a few moment and you finally sighed.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you shook your head slightly before wringing your hands together.

“I want to be the one you think of when you see something cute, I want to be the one that makes you smile at your phone or makes a hard day better.”

Alice never said a word and you gave her a sad smile as you stood back up.

“I just know it won’t happen…”

Leaning down, you pressed a kiss to the top of her head before you started making your way back to your bedroom.

“I’m sorry Alice, it’s easier this way.”

Within a second she was gone.

She was speechless, no words she thought of seemed like a good enough reply.

So, Alice decided to wait until you came back so you guys could talk again, and maybe she could finally find the words.

But what was supposed to be a week long trip turned into two, then three, then months.

You weren’t coming home, and this was why you weren’t in her future.

Not because she didn’t want you there.

Because you weren’t around anymore to be there

[wilhelmjfink]

Tough Luck

*Stede bonnet voice* hi all! I’ve had a broken hand and been in a brace for months. They wanna do surgery but I refuse. So I just haven’t written anything. Ever. So uh. Sorry. But thanks to everyone who’s been lurking and liking my old stuff :,) literally gets me up in the morning

This was in my drafts. Could be years old. Who knows? Starting our favorite asshole, Negan. I think it was a drabble request. I have no idea where I am even at right now. Plz enjoy.

—

Boy, he’d been pissed.

Vaguely, like a fever dream, is the image of Negan stepping into your line of sight when Simon had swung open the van doors to start loading up whatever Alexandria had given you guys for the week. Or rather, whatever you’d stolen from them for the week, if you’re splitting hairs…

But you’d held your finger up to your lips — not quick enough — the second that Simon cocked his head and blurted out your name curiously, you could easily see Negan’s ears perk up like a god damn bloodhound at the sound, and when he spun around, spotting you crouched in the back of the hauler… holy shit.

You’d only had time to argue briefly, hushed tones throwing harsh accusations and a litany of curse words from one particular side of the party, while Simon oversaw the rest of the crew as they collected the food and ammunition and supplies from the town of Alexandria.

And it was a cute little town. You really had no clue why he would never let you come along on these runs; why he’d deemed them so dangerous. It looked like something you’d seen in the cover of Homes and Gardens, honestly. You’d liked it at first. Well, maybe you still liked it — you couldn’t quite remember anything past Negan fuming at you for sneaking along on what you assumed should’ve been a simple run for him.

Because now, you’re in the back of that same hauler, headed away from the cute little town of Alexandria, for foggy some reason. Twice as fast as you’d headed there. Driving erratically, lying in the back of a van that was supposed to be stocked full of goods. Instead, in their spot, was Negan, crouched beside you with one hand steadying himself on the headset of the drivers seat, and the other (rudely) pushing down painfully onto your stomach as he barked orders that you might be positive were just more swear words, if you could understand him at all. Your head was swimming, and your ears rung.

A pothole jolted the vehicle and you bounced with it, unintentionally crying out in the stabbing pain it caused your abdomen, also getting Negan’s attention.

Wild eyes glanced down at you, then back toward the driver. “I said fuckin’ take it god damn easy!”

“Sorry, boss — I’m tryin’ to hurry!”

Trying to focus on the blur of colors passing by you in the back window didn’t help much to distract you from the pain. In fact, you were sure Negan was making it worse, and you weakly reached up a bloodied hand — you only stopped to gawk at it in confusion for just a moment — and push Negan’s arm away from you. He didn’t budge, but instead, used his free hand to lower yours back down to your side.

“Knock it off,” he told you, his voice gentler than it had been when he was addressing the driver. “Rag’s already fuckin’ soaked through.”

You winced. “Hurts.”

It was only when Negan’s darkened eyes found yours again that you noticed his change in expression: the softening of his features was when you realized he’d been furious, permanently scowling with brows furrowed. That was, until he looked at you and recognized the pain in your eyes, the tears that poured down your cheeks. A Negan that you couldn’t quite remember ever seeing before in your life — granted, you were having trouble remembering what had happened ten minutes ago, but still. New. Maybe comforting, if it wasn’t oddly worrisome.

“I know it hurts, doll,” he exhaled, gaze flickering to your stomach where his strong hand secured previously mentioned blood-soaked rag. It stained his fingers now, too, and it made you feel bad. You liked his hands. “We’re almost back, Carson’ll fix your sweet ass right up, okay? Just a bit longer.”

For some reason, your hands started to feel numb. And the tips of your toes, too. “Are you upset with me?”

Your question seemed to take Negan by surprise: “Am I — what? Am I upset…” The surprise faded quickly and was replaced with understanding. “Oh.”

“I just don’t like being left behind.”

With an exasperated sigh, Negan situated himself into more of a cross-legged position, adjusting his tall form as comfortably as he could in the cramped space of the van while also skillfully managing never to alleviate any pressure on your stomach. “Yeah. Yeah, Y/N, I’m pretty fuckin’ pissed off right now. But we’ll talk about it later. Just try and relax for now.”

“I just…” Words were hard to find and your mouth was dry. “I worry that you won’t come back,” your voice was straining slightly now and added some sort of emotion to your sentence. Or maybe it was the sudden rush of tears and sobs lodging in your throat at the memories of watching him leave on runs and nights laying awake wondering if he would ever come back to you or if he was dead in the woods somewhere.

He steadied himself against the back of the seat and stared at you intently, as if he was trying to get an exact read on you in that moment. Were you delirious, just talking out of your ass from blood loss? Were you trying to soften him up, knowing very well you’ll be in a lot of trouble if and when you heal up from this back at Sanctuary?

Or were you legitimately scared for Negan? Did you really stare up at the off-white popcorn ceilings when you should be sleeping, wondering if he was safe and alive? You weren’t sure why it was such a hard concept for him to grasp, at first, but then you remembered exactly who you were dealing with… maybe the blood loss was making you delirious.

Closely you watched him through half-hooded eyes as he swallowed thickly before finally responding. “Darling, I will always do everything in my power to come back to you, alright?”

You forced a pained smile up at him.

“But there’s a fuckin’ reason I don’t take you on out certain jobs. Exhibit A.” He nodded pointedly at your abdomen, as if you could’ve forgotten what he was talking about. “I don’t fucking trust these pricks. This group… they’re fucking stubborn. They are trying deliberately to break the rules and fight me. The egg head hand-god-damn-made one single fucking bullet for the one gun they had that they were gonna use to shoot me today. And look what fucking happened!”

“Wrong place, wrong time,” you rasped. If you could have shrugged, you would have. The vehicle slowed and you could hear the familiar creaking of iron gates opening as you pulled into Sanctuary. “One single bullet? Sounds kinda lucky to me.”

“Yeah, and no offense, sweetheart,” Negan started, shifting awkwardly but carefully as to not jostle you too much when the van doors swung open. Gently, knowing there was no way to move you without it hurting, he slid his clean arm under your upper back and the bloodstained one under your knees, lifting you slowly from the back of the cargo van. You hissed, stiffening, dropping any attempt at a front to seem tougher than you really were. “You aren’t exactly the luckiest fucking gal I’ve ever met. You have a tendency to run right the fuck into danger and get yourself hurt. So, you can’t blame me for wanting to keep you safe and sound here, short of wrapping your fine ass in bubble-wrap.”

“Danger has a tendency to run into me,” you corrected him, though you weren’t sure he even heard you until you saw him roll his eyes… maybe even with the ghost of a smile on his lips?

Or maybe the blood loss was making you delirious.

[darklcy]

is it okay if i request 8,14,15 angst to fluff/comfort with marcus? <3

its actually not okay. (JK YES THANK U FOR REQUESTING)

✿✼:*ﾟangst prompt list ｡ arcane masterlist *･ﾟﾟ･⭑

→ prompt: "be honest. do not lie to me." : getting jealous + blaming the other initially : s/o storming out the house

→ pairing: marcus x reader | Arcane

→ warnings: swearing, mentions of insecurities, maybe ooc marcus?

→ word count: 1.7k

→A/N: (pls just pretend they have phones or some sort of device similar to a phone adjdfjksjdk)

Marcus always struggled with voicing his internal feelings.

On the outside, he played the role of an uptight, spiteful Sheriff of Police, when on the inside, he often crumbled under his insecurities. More than he'd ever like to admit.

You had the talent of seeing through this exterior wall, his built in boundary that blocked every person he came across from ever getting inside. Only you were allowed in, and sometimes that terrified the fuck out of him.

You were a treasure. An irreplaceable vessel in his heart.

On occasion, he wished he could hide you away to protect you from the evil that lurked in the City of Progress, but that'd be physically impossible. You, of course, had your own life, and he had his. Though, as much as reminded himself of this, he couldn't help but worry.

The intrusive thoughts swam inside his brain like mindless fish, feeding him stupid ideologies about other men flirting with you or you waking up one day deciding not to love him anymore. He couldn't trust the world to deal with a beautiful person like you. He wouldn't dare allow anyone to step into your path to try to give you harm or steal you away.

Like the pea-brained piece of slime blowing up your phone right now.

He couldn't help but avert his eyes over the screen each time it buzzed, lighting the device up with yet another text notification. Just who does this guy think he is?

"Hey hon? Have you seen my phone?"

Shit.

Quickly jogging over to the other side of the room, far from the device, Marcus tensely resumed his tea sipping.

"It's over here on the table."

You emerged from the hallway leading back to your shared bedroom with a relieved sigh, a towel wrapped around your damp hair. Marcus couldn't help the smile at the sight. Though the bothersome tightness in his stomach returned when he watched you pick up your phone.

Surely you'd bring up the texts to him and laugh it off, right? You thought this guy was annoying too, right?

But you said nothing. In fact, you actually scoffed at whatever was on the screen, shaking your head with a grin while walking back to the bedroom. Marcus almost dropped his cup from the way his fingers began to tremble.

Nothing? You weren't going to say anything? Were you..?

Marcus shut his eyes and shook his head.

No. Stop. That's not it.

Placing the cup in the sink to wash it, Marcus ignored those damned images of you potentially cheating on him with another man. His teeth bit down on the skin of his lip as his chest burned with nerves. As he switched off the kitchen light to head back to your room, his lungs inhaled a deep breath.

For now, he'll sleep on it.

--

The next time it happened, Marcus could feel his insides twist and fold into each other.

Somehow he managed to get off patrol early, and had prepared a nice meal for dinner. As he cut through the steak with his fork and knife, he couldn't help but be painfully aware of the way you sat unfocused. Distracted, even.

Your eyes stayed downcast to the device beside your plate, as if waiting eagerly for a response. Your food had barely been touched, and you hadn't spoken to him more than a simple greeting. His appetite vanished in seconds.

"How's the food, honey?"

He chirped up the inquiry, hoping to grab your attention again and bring you back to him. You hummed as you glanced up at him, lips forming into a tight smile.

"It's really good. Though, I might eat later...I'm not feeling too hungry right now."

Marcus couldn't hide his disappointed frown.

"Oh, are you sure? Have you eaten today?"

You sighed as you gathered up your meal, moving to the kitchen counter to put the food in a tubber ware bowl. "Yes, but..I don't know. I'll eat later."

Marcus watched you put the leftovers inside the fridge with a growing crease in between his brows. The saddened expression soon turned sour when the buzz from your phone vibrated the table.

--

It'd been going on for far too long now.

You and your phone acted like glue, as if you'd formed a co-dependent relationship with the piece of technology and would perish without it.

Marcus's stare flitted over to your form on the other side of the couch, your book abandoned at your lap while your fingers tapped on the screen to respond to whoever had been bugging you nonstop.

Overtime, his worries began to fornicate into anger; anger at that damn phone and at you for continuing to entertain it. Who was so important on the other side that you'd allow them all your attention?

He wanted you to bring it up, to reassure his unspoken concerns and answer his inquiries about the other person. But you weren't a mind reader, so if you weren't going to say anything, then he would.

With a tense swallow, he suffocated his looming fury and cleared his throat.

"Hey, [First]? Can I talk to you about something?"

You paused your typings to glance up at him.

"Yeah, what's up, hon?"

He almost wanted to laugh at your use of the pet name.

"..I've noticed recently, the past few days actually, that uh...You've been texting a lot. I don't know who you're texting, but do you mind if I ask who it is?"

You shifted at the uncomfortable tone in his voice. Clicking the button to turn off the device, you let it rest in your lap as you shrugged.

"Just a friend from work. Why?"

A scoff emitted in his throat. "A friend? Who?"

The space between your brows heightened as they pulled together, your confusion milking your expression. "..Why does it matter..?"

"Because you're texting them all the damn time, [First]. We haven't had a real conversation in days because you're always on it."

His irises narrowed into a glare as he leaned forward, his arm barely grazing your thigh.

"..Is there something you're hiding from me? Another man, perhaps?"

You couldn't believe what he was insinuating right now. Another man? But before you could open your mouth to respond, Marcus shuffled even closer, bringing his face right in front of yours.

"And be honest. Do not lie to me."

He was moments away from an outburst. He could feel it in his stomach, his chest, and his mind. As he watched the way you swallowed nervously, pupils dancing in between his eyes, he hoped for you to clear the air. To say it was a misunderstanding on his part.

You sighed through your nose.

"I wasn't lying, Marcus. It's just a friend. I would never cheat on you."

You were wholeheartedly telling the truth. But the built up rage and tint of red flooding his vision said otherwise.

"No. You're lying to me. You're fucking someone from your job, aren't you? That's why you ignore me and pay attention to him, on your little phone all the time, huh?!"

Panic. "I'm telling the truth! Do-Do you want to read my texts?"

You held the device out on your hand to him, but all he did was throw his head back and groan.

"Why the fuck would I want to read your texts with him? For fuck's sake, [First]!"

He couldn't stop. His mouth kept moving, and his inner demons kept overflowing. He'd finally opened the gate, and now all Hell was loose.

He wished he would've found the strength to suppress his anger at the sight of your broken hearted expression. You stared up at him with wide, glassy eyes, a deep frown resting on your lips. You just...listened. No more protests to his claims, no retaliation.

Just silence.

Fuck.

It was too quiet. He needed noise, a release, something, to break him out of his head. He needed to get out.

Storming over to the front door, he roughly twisted it open and slammed it behind him. You stared at your quivering fingers as he did this, flinching at the harsh sound of the wood coming back to its frame. A drop fell down your eye ducts, softly dripping down your chin and collarbone.

"Fuck!"

Marcus swore as he slammed his fist against his thigh. He didn't care where he was going, he just kept walking farther and farther away.

Away from you.

--

It was late into the night when Marcus finally returned.

You hadn't left from your spot at the couch. The bones of your cheeks rested on your knuckles as you stared at the floor, tears flying down to the ground like a soft drizzle. His words hadn't left your brain for a second, nor did the broken gleam in his eyes.

It completely shattered your heart.

At the sound of his footsteps entering the living room, you instantly perked up, blurry eyes locking onto his form. Hopping up on your feet, you moved over to him and wrapped your arms around his torso, not caring at all if he was still mad from earlier or not.

Marcus gasped at the sudden contact. His eyes first landed on your phone laying on the couch cushion before they fell to the top of your head against his chest, a sniffle escaping your nose here and there.

He immediately softened at the sound. Bringing his arms up to embrace your shoulders, his eyelids softly closed as he laid his chin atop your head.

It was you who spoke first.

"I..I'm sorry for not paying as much attention to you. I'm not cheating on you, I swear on my life. And I'm sorry for my actions that led you to believe that."

Marcus's eyes watered up from behind his lids. You nestled your cheek further into his chest.

"..I've been planning a project with a co-worker, and they prefer texting over calling. That's why I've been so occupied with my phone. But I shouldn't have let it consume me. It took time away from you."

Pulling back to see his face, you cupped his cheek gently.

"I love you, Marcus. I love you so much...and I don't want to be with anyone else."

Marcus blinked a few times, a couple drops of water falling onto his skin. Twisting his head, he laid a kiss to your hand before leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours.

"I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. I should never raise my voice at you, for any reason."

Swooping you in for a kiss, his hands cupped your face to tilt you upwards.

"I love you, too."

[redorich]

for the hermit canyon, i humbly request:

Etho messing with Karl and maybe like, Lazarbeam or Fundy, by pretending he’s moth man.

Quackity stalks through the woods, blissfully unaware of its other inhabitants-- not that he would care, if he knew. No, tonight, under the full moon (because it's romantic) he makes his move.

The Hermit, as Quackity is completely sure of, is a beautiful young woman with long flowing hair as white as snow. Because she is a creature of untold power and beauty, fairy tale logic obviously applies. Therefore, if Quackity can steal her clothes, she will have no choice but to marry him and they will live happily ever after as big booty bitches in love.

Nodding to himself, Quackity feels assured in his logic. He's wearing his favorite assless chaps, his best pair of knockoff Yeezys, and no shirt. He is ready for what is to come.

---

Karl lurks deep in the forest, illuminated only by the moon. He leans against a tree, taking care not to disturb his outfit-- he is camouflaged as a bush. Dangling strips of green and brown fabric cover his body, and his limbs are completely hidden in the costume so long as he stands still. It's a daunting task, standing still in the dark, dangerous woods at night. Nevertheless, Karl knows that this is what he must do.

"Triclops Mothman, my beloved," he whispers into the night. He will find Mothman, and he will marry Mothman. There is no alternative.

---

Far away from both Karl and Quackity, though still in the same spruce forest, Sapnap angrily prowls. Well, he'd describe it as a prowl. Truthfully, it's more of a pouty stomp. He knows that this forest has had multiple "Hermit sightings", and Sapnap wants-- no, needs what he's after.

"Hermit!" he screams into the night. "Come out and fight me, you little bitch! Man on man!"

To emphasize his point, he bangs a pot and a pan against each other several times. Sapnap is getting his revenge for that little ravager prank, one way or another.

---

Deep within the canyon walls, the Hermit complex looks like an overturned anthill with all its activity. It's Halloween night come early.

"I'm not wearing a dress," Etho insists.

Grian whines, "But Etho, I made it just for you! It matches Stress's outfit."

Stress, upon hearing her name, looks up from her book and waves. Cleo is currently fiddling with the thick mane of synthetic white hair Stress is wearing, styling the wig into a princess-y type braid.

"I'll say it again," Cleo says, looking very intently into Etho's eyes, "I could take your place."

"No," Etho sighs. "If what Puffy said about these guys is true, you'd probably bite someone's face off by the end of the night."

"You're no fun," Cleo huffs, but acquiesces.

"At least put on the wig," Grian demands.

Grian and Etho have a staring contest for a solid ninety seconds before Etho snaps his fingers in front of Grian's face, causing him to flinch and blink. "You cheater--!"

"I'll wear the wig," Etho interrupts Grian. Instantaneously, Grian loses his outraged moue.

Cleo sighs. "They're the same wig, right? Do I have to braid Etho's hair, too?"

"I think I'll be fine with my new flowing, luscious locks," Etho says with a humorous crinkle to his eyes.

They all laugh as Etho dramatically flips his fake hair, whipping himself in the face with it in the process. He also receives a thumbs up from Joe, who is in the process of searching for his contact lenses because "Herobrine doesn't wear glasses", according to Bdubs.

Night falls, and the Hermits are prepared. They hope their victims aren't.

---

Quackity catches a glimpse of silver-white after so long searching in the woods. With a little gasp, he eagerly pursues it. His beautiful maiden, ethereal and distant like the moon, darts between trees and leaps across creeks like she is flying, like her feet barely touch the ground.

He follows her to a clearing, but when he bursts through the brush into the open space, she is nowhere to be found.

“Mi rey!” he wails, “Fantasma hermosa! Come to papi!”

Etho, hiding in a tree about five feet away, has no clue what any of those words mean. He affects a terrible falsetto and throws his voice. “Hello, Quackity.”

Quackity jumps, looking around wildly for his beautiful girlboss queen. “Hermit?! You know my name?”

“Of course, Quackity,” Etho says, hefting a large rock in his hand. “Come closer, I have a cask of Amontillado we can share.”

Quackity turns toward Etho's voice just fast enough to catch a glimpse of the Hermit's mask, his (fake) long white hair, his decidedly not female appearance. Quackity looks the Hermit up and down. Etho has never felt more Perceived.

"What's a place like you doing in a guy like this?" Quackity says, flirtatiousness dripping from his voice.

Etho eyes the man's assless chaps with distaste from his crouched perch in a tree. Quick as lightning, he chucks the heavy rock in his hand at Quackity's head, knocking him out instantly.

Etho jumps down from his tree with a huffed sigh. "Well," he says, grabbing Quackity by the ankle and dragging him, "time to get to work."

---

"Pspspsps," Karl whispers, "heeeere Mothman..."

The sound of a twig snapping to his right makes Karl freeze, then turn ever so slowly. There's no one there. Karl holds his breath for what feels like an eternity, but is eventually forced to admit that the noise was probably just an animal. Surely, a creature of Mothman's size would make more noise when he walks, given the weight of his strong legs.

"Mothman," Karl says. "I wrote you a poem!"

Joe, who was up until this point hiding behind trees and ominously snapping twigs, feels a twinge of morbid curiosity. As a poet, he absolutely has to know what Karl considers an adequate love poem for Mothman.

With red cheeks, Karl professes his love:

"Your feelers make me feel so sweet

Your hindwings set my heart aflame

Fern-like antennae make me melt

And Mothman, you're to blame."

Despite himself, Joe is a little bit impressed. It almost makes him feel bad about what he's about to do-- almost.

A soft eerie glow seeps into the forest, catching Karl's eye. He investigates, creeping forward until he turns around a tree and sees glowing white eyes. He screams, but there is no sound, and the forest has disappeared. Only those eyes remain, and they too flicker out of existence.

There is a dim corridor ahead of him, narrow and lit by redstone torches. At the end, there is an iron door. He runs to the exit, but as soon as his hand touches the door it disappears and he is engulfed by swirling purple-- like a Nether portal, but so much more terrifying.

The purple is gone and he can just barely make out the menacing image of a man with glowing white eyes T-posing in the blackness. Karl opens his eyes and wakes up on the forest floor, prone and sore.

"Right," he mutters breathlessly to himself, "Mothman is not interested."

---

"--YOU BITCH ASS PUNK, I'M GONNA RIP YOUR LEGS OFF AND STICK 'EM ON YOUR HEAD!" Sapnap screams, banging the only pot he owns against a non-stick frying pan he stole from George.

"Well, that's not very nice, innit?" says a feminine voice. Sapnap looks left, right, behind him, up in the trees... then down.

Big brown eyes peer up at him through white bangs. A displeased pout set into a moon-pale face attached to an equally moon-pale woman chastises him without words.

"...You're the Hermit?" Sapnap says disbelievingly. He has his doubts that someone as small and pretty as this woman could wrangle a ravager onto his front lawn.

"You wanted a fight," she huffs. "And for the record, you totally had it coming, with Pamela's Revenge-- remember, the rava--"

"Yes, I know the ravager was named Pamela's Revenge! There were like eight hundred million death messages in chat about it, you jackass!" Sapnap snaps, trying to cover up his unease. It's not that he's hesitant to hit her because she's a girl; he would deck the shit out of Niki or Puffy with absolutely no provocation whatsoever. It's just that... she looks soft. Like a non-combatant. It would be too easy, too cruel--

Stress punches Sapnap in the jaw with a wicked right hook. "Stealing is wrong," she says.

While Sapnap is dazed and quite possibly mildly concussed, Stress follows up with a brutal kick to the shin. Sapnap makes a genuine effort to fight back, and he’s no slouch, but he’s been taken so thoroughly off guard that the best he can do with his head spinning as it is is to swing with a wild haymaker and hope it hits.

His fist makes contact with something soft and squishy. He hears a grunt, but Stress shoves him over onto the ground and dumps a bucket of glitter over his head. It burns his eyes, but more importantly it burns his pride. He doesn’t remember at what point he dropped his pot and pan (he must have at some point, because he punched the Hermit with an empty fist), but he’s angry enough to open his watery eyes through the magenta glitter and snatch George’s frying pan up off the forest floor, hurling it at the Hermit with devastating accuracy. She yelps, blocking with her forearm at the last moment.

“Knew I shoulda let Etho...” Sapnap hears the Hermit mutter. What’s an Etho?

Stress irritably bonks Sapnap on the head with the pan he threw at her. He goes limp like a ragdoll, and Stress sets about maneuvering his body into a sitting position leaned against a tree so she can do his makeup while he sleeps.

“Hope I don’t poke his eye out!” she says. “Ah well, he’s got two anyway. Now, should I go for a cute, summery look, or a dark evening look?”

---

In Atrium 1 of the Hermit Canyon complex, Puffy laughs loud and clear, clutching her paper cup tightly so she doesn’t spill her fruit punch. "No,” she chokes out, “he didn’t.”

Cub, holding a similar paper cup, waves his hand in a vague gesture. “Yep. That’s Etho for you. You know, one time he got Doc to run around with a snowman head on, eating spider eyes?”

“Oh man,” Puffy sighs, wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of her eye. “I’m so glad I snitched on Karl, Quackity, and Sapnap. I can’t wait to see their reactions!”

Cub grins evilly. “Stress got pictures before she left.”

Puffy gasps, stars in her eyes. “I’ll bake you a whole cake if you get me a copy.”

“I’ll bake Cub a whole cake if he gives them to me instead,” Grian interjects from across the room. “I don’t need them, I just want to take them from you.”

“Nooooo!” Puffy wails melodramatically. “Grian, please spare me!”

“Five diamond blocks,” Grian makes his demand.

Puffy continues to fake-sob, pretending not to notice Scar sneaking up on Grian until Scar drops an anvil on Grian’s head, like a Looney Tunes episode but slightly to the left. While Grian is distracted, Cub slips the pictures to Puffy, who puts them in her inventory without looking.

Etho walks into the Atrium, now dressed as his normal self, including his natural hair, which looks like an angry wet cat perched atop his head, just the way he likes it. Everyone cheers.

“So, how’d it go with Quackity?” Puffy asks with a smirk.

“Well...” Etho says.

---

Quackity wakes up with the sun in his eyes. In front of him is the public Nether portal, and standing right in front of it is a wide-eyed Sam, staring directly at him. Quackity looks down.

He’s naked, covered in half-dried honey, and tied to a pole like the world’s sexiest flag. And he’s got the world’s worst hangover-- it feels like he’s been hit in the head with a large rock.

“Not again,” he groans.

“...This happens often?” Sam asks.

“If I had a nickel for every time something like this has happened,” Quackity says, wiggling his way out of the ropes tying him to the pole, “I’d have enough money to go buy myself a pair of pants.”

Sam averts his eyes to the sky, abruptly aware of exactly why Quackity would feel the need to buy a pair of pants.

“Damn it,” Quackity says. “Those were my favorite pair of assless chaps.”

“Were they now,” Sam says numbly. The sky is quite blue today, it’s rather beautiful.

Quackity huffs in aggravation, finally having freed himself from his binds. “Yeah, they just don’t make ‘em like they used to, you know?”

“Not really, no,” Sam says slowly. “I wouldn’t know much about-- assless chaps.”

The naked man shrugs. Haltingly, Sam unclasps his cape, pulling it off his shoulders and offering it to Quackity.

“Nah,” Quackity says, “I’ll just streak.”

“Please don’t,” Sam says with pain in his eyes.