#my brains just there for some.. unknown reason i have No idea why | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

badnoahmens · 9 months

Text

Sweep Me Off My Feet

Noah Sebastian x Reader

A/N: this was an anon request - I hope I did you proud! “Reader and him are bffs and she gets really depressed staying alone during the shutdown, so Noah picks her up and she ends up living with him during it all. So everyone else in the band quickly realizes that they are more than besties, just in the way they act with each other.”

42 days into this ‘lockdown’, you think. 42 days since it was all over the news, ‘stay in your house, don’t leave unless it's for a medical reason. Blah blah blah’. The panic has started to subside, people are somewhat used to the idea now, despite how upsidedown the world is seeming. The days were just so long, and the nights seemed to drag on forever. There wasn’t really an end in sight, just more and more delays of the inevitable. “Lockdown extended another week…month… the rest of our lives”.

There was only one thing helping you get through this, and that was Noah. He would be the one who always answered the phone, answered the messages, sent you hilarious videos or photos of himself. It was this connection that was what was stopping you from going insane.

Your house was otherwise empty. You lived on your own, along with your dying house plants. A blanket of darkness was getting ever so comfortable to live in, and it was becoming dangerous. You would go days without showering, the house was a mess, and the food you were eating could barely even be called edible.

It was 4pm, and you still hadn’t left the couch. Staring mind-numbingly at the TV as a show that auto-played in front of you. It was like your brain was paralyzing you, stopping from being alive. Instead, just existing; taking up space.

The only light in the room came from the TV as figures from an unknown show ran about their lives. The curtains were shut and all the doors and windows closed. A sudden brrrrrrrr from your phone drew you out of the shroud you were in, the phone screen lighting up with a new message.

Noah: Have you drank any water today?

You scoff. Was this man stalking you?

You reply: since when are you tracking my vitals?

You stand, bones creaking and cracking as you finally show some sign of life, and then saunter over to the kitchen. A cup that looks relatively clean sits by the sink, so you fill it up with water and drink it as quickly as you can.

Your phone lights up again.

Noah: You just drank some, didn’t you?

Your response? Nothing. He knows he’s right. You won’t even need to say anything.

Noah: knew it.

You: shut up.

You look down at your phone, and then around at the house. It was embarrassing. The smell was suddenly becoming apparent, and it was a concoction of body sweat, dampness and something else that might have been the dead plant.

You sigh. Knowing this wasn’t any way to live. Leaving the TV playing, you walk upstairs and to the bathroom, twisting the handles in the shower so the water comes pouring down. The steam begins to hollow out and you strip from your clothes, tossing them to the side. The waterfall feels clean, it envelopes you and you close your eyes in bliss. Why has this been so hard to do? The scent of your shampoo brings a slight smile to your face when you wash your hair, and it may just be because you were proud of yourself just for doing that. As you rinse your hair, there was a noise from outside the bathroom. A bang. Then a crash. Then a… clink?

Your heartbeat rises. Someone else was there, it wasn’t from the tv and you knew it. With shaking hands you shut off the shower and grasp your towel, wrapping your body in it roughly. Your mind starts to race. Will they leave without knowing you were there? Will they find you? What will they do if they do? Looking around the room, you panic when your phone is missing. It’s still downstairs. Fuck.

The footfalls grow louder as they climb the stairs, slowly. And then, as though he knows you would be hiding, Noah calls out.

“Are you home? It’s just me! Please don't attack me!”

The breath you were holding onto finally is let out, and you stomp over to the door, swinging it open aggressively.

“What the fuck, Noah!” You yell at him, hair dripping onto the floor as he stares at you like a deer caught in headlights. His hair was longer now, coming close to sitting on his shoulders. His dark brown eyes were wide as they stared at you, in a towel, in the middle of the hallway, with an angry expression twisted in your face. “I thought you were coming to kill me!”

It was then that you noticed a bag in his hand, a garbage bag, full of the rubbish that has been littering your house for weeks. “Are you cleaning?”

He still is looking at you, “I thought it would help…” he says sheepishly.

“Why are you cleaning?” you ask, quite literally dumbfounded.

“I know what you’re like. This isn’t healthy. I’m cleaning and you’re going to pack a bag and come live with us” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Come live with you?”

He nods his head, then turns and walks into your bedroom. You see the light in the room shift as he slides the curtains and opens the window, letting a light breeze slowly waft into the room and down towards you. You’re still confused as you see him rummaging around in your bedroom, throwing rubbish into a bag, then looking up to meet your confused stare.

“I can pack a bag for you if you’re just going to stand there” he remarks, and you respond quickly.

“I’ll pack myself, thank you very much. I’ve seen your fashion sense and I don’t trust you”

“What do you mean!” Noah calls back in disbelief.

“Grass shoes!” You yell back.

He stands in silence for a moment. “Enough said,” he states finally in defeat.

As you walk into your room, you start to feel overwhelmed watching Noah already having a full bag of trash. He was here all of 5 minutes and had done more around the house than you had in a month. Guilt started to eat away at the pit of your stomach, and Noah noticed the energy shift in the room. When he looked at you tears started to form.

“Hey…. Hey hey hey hey” he says, dropping the bag and coming to your side, wrapping his long arms around you. You bury your head in his chest and loop your arms around him. Breathing in his scent helped, but it didn’t stop the tears completely.

“I can stop if it’s not helping”

“No, please, I’m just sorry. It’s a lot. I haven’t seen you in so long”

“I know, but I knew I had to do something.”

It took all of a few hours to get the house into a relatively clean state. With bags of rubbish out of the way, clothes and dishes put back into their place, weeks of dirt and grime finally cleaned, you started to feel alive again. There was something about spending time with Noah that made you feel better. When the sun was starting to set, your house looked normal, bags were packed, and you were closing the door behind you as you left and walked towards Noah’s car.

The drive back to his house was quiet. You watched out the window as the view zoomed past. It seemed odd being outside, to be moving somewhere especially when you were not supposed to be leaving your house. But this was essential. This was for a medical reason. If Noah had not come to help you, who knows how long it would have taken to start completely falling apart.

When you finally pulled into the driveway, Noah stepped out and collected your bags, then headed straight inside having you follow him in. Although it was early, you were exhausted.

“I think I might just go straight to bed,” you murmur to Noah. He nods, then leads you to a bedroom. It was mostly bare, but it would be perfect. After how much clutter you had been surrounded with lately, the minimalism was refreshing.

You drop your bags on the bed, then turn to see Noah at the door.

“If you need anything, you know to come find me” he speaks softly. You nod in response. He then closes the door leaving you with nothing but yourself.

You look around the room. A bed was pushed up against the wall. A painting hung opposite it, and a plant stood tall in the corner by the door. The view out of the window showed the tall tree that stood in the backyard by the timber fence, and it looked like there were a few small birds taking up residence in a nest off one of the branches. You smiled at the birds, admiring their own peacefulness. They were content. Happy. Living with what they had. You were determined to get there yourself.

After a restless night’s sleep, you awoke to the sun shining through the window. The birds had left for the morning, possibly to get their food, and you decided you needed to do the same.

As you exit out of your new bedroom, the house is quiet aside from the muffled sounds of the tv from around the corner. You come around to see the animated faces of unknown characters playing out. It was an anime, and you were unfamiliar, but you did recognise the back of 2 heads facing the screen with their back to you. Noah and Jolly were sitting down on a couch lost in the adventure they were watching. You rounded the couch and slumped next to them. Nothing needed to be said, and nothing was said. They just shifted over to give you more room and continued on with their show.

This is what you needed. This new normal. With people around you. People that made you smile, made you actually want to get up in the morning, and to watch funny shows with.

As the anime continued, you started to ask some questions. “So who’s side are we supposed to be on?” “Aren’t they supposed to be the bad guy?” “What do you mean they just died?” “How old are these characters supposed to be?”

Noah and Jolly answered every single one of them, explaining plot points, theories and sometimes even loopholes in the storytelling.

After an hour, Jolly left to retreat to the kitchen, leaving yourself and Noah sitting side by side. He looked over at you, sharing a smile, and threw his arm over your shoulder. The action made you fall onto his side, a strangely comforting feeling after being so distant for so long. But a feeling that you knew you could get used to pretty quick.

2 months have passed now. You were still living with Noah and the boys. He still made you laugh and smile like you never had before. The days were simple, spending time with each other, watching shows, writing music, and playing games. But tonight it was another night on the couch. It became a tradition these days to all be sprawled out, limbs over limbs, invading personal space, all in an effort to spend quality time together and work as a close unit of friends. It felt so natural with them, they were beyond welcoming, and made you feel like a part of the family.

Just like all the nights that had passed previously, Nick was the first to go, standing with a sigh, rubbing his belly, and sauntering off into his room. Next to follow was Jolly, after many arguments about his falling asleep during the show, he finally admitted defeat and retreated back to his bedroom.

This left you and Noah alone. The growing haze of sleepiness was creeping ever so close to taking over. Your eyelids felt so heavy that it was impossible to keep them open. I’ll just rest my eyes for a minute, you say to yourself, knowing full well this was the biggest lie. It was mere seconds until the dream state took you under.

You were abruptly awoken by the feeling of rummaging coming from beneath you. Lifting your head from its place, you peer between the slits of your open eyes. You’re met with Noah’s face looking at you, perplexed and a little worried.

“Go back to sleep, I’m sorry I woke you” he whispers in a soft tone, a little raspy and sleepy himself.

Twisting your head you can see you laying by his side, squished between his body and the back of the couch pillows. Noah was laying on his back, dangling close to the edge, one leg hanging off at the knee to stop from slipping off altogether. His hands rested on your back, gliding up and down in a soothing motion. His arm was twisted around your side, with you nestled comfortably and quite perfectly fitted under his arm with head resting on his chest.

A hand of yours was tucked under your head, and it takes a second to realize how you got here. When you fell asleep, you must have slipped down onto Noah, and him being the gentleman he is, didn’t want to wake you. Was he asleep himself? By the look of his hair, spread across the beige pillow in a tangled mess, it’d be a good guess to say that he was.

You lay your head down once more, gazing drizzly up at Noah, who tenderly brushed some of the loose strands of hair away from your face.

“You know you talk in your sleep” he uttered quietly, as if not to disturb the peacefulness of the moment.

Still half asleep, you close your eyes and sigh.

“I was afraid of that” you whisper.

“It was adorable,” he says, a gentle smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Noah leans his head down, straining it at an almost awkward angle, to meet your face. Suddenly, you weren’t so sleepy anymore. He was so close. His breath washed over your face and wafted down past your neck. He was lingering, slow, questioningly. Did he want this? Did you? Shivers were running down your spine, possibly from the surge of butterflies in your stomach. Noah was your friend, your closest friend, and would this ruin it? Thoughts were running wild in your head, dancing dangerously close to ruining what was about to happen.

Noah notices, he sees you hesitate, and he pulls back. Your stomach drops.

“I’m sorry, I-“ he starts.

You interrupt him by leaning up and meeting his lips with yours. He flinched at the impact, but didn't pull back. Instead, his lips move like yours, mimicking the motion you create, parting slightly to allow just that tiny bit more of a connection. You slide up, straddling Noah so that your thighs are at the sides of his torso, moving your hands so they are on either side of his face, fingers tangling with his long hair in a feeble attempt to ground yourself in the moment. His hands move too, gingerly griping at your hips, but not as to hold, but to caress. You feel a tremor of anticipation across your body, the light pressure that he creates between you two, rolling his body to be closer to yours, makes the sensation even more intimate.

You’re still kissing him, heavily. His mouth parts more, flicking the tip of his tongue over your lips as though to ask for more. You respond with the same motion, with tongues now intertwining as you begin to taste him. The fears and worries from before are long gone, and all that you could think of now was him, was that he wants this just as much as you do.

The intensity between you and Noah grows more. It's as if the universe has narrowed down to this singular moment, where every touch, every sensation, becomes heightened and electrifying. The taste of his lips, the warmth of his breath, the softness of his skin — it all consumes your senses.

With each passing second, the kiss deepens, evolving into something more profound and passionate. Your tongues dance together, exploring the uncharted territory of each other's mouths. It's a delicate balance between fervor and tenderness, a beautiful symphony of desire and affection, orchestrated perfectly just for the two of you.

Noah's hands glide up your sides, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. As his hands slip beneath your shirt, his fingers gently caress your skin, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body and intensifying the sensation. Time becomes irrelevant as you revel in this newfound closeness. The outside world ceases to exist, and it's just the two of you, entwined in an embrace that speaks volumes without uttering a single word. In this intimate dance, you feel a profound sense of trust and vulnerability, knowing that you are sharing something special and rare.

You can feel him begin to writhe beneath you, legs shifting and pressing against the space between yours. You pause momentarily, letting the moment linger, before reciprocating the same passion, grinding down with your hips to create friction between your clothes. The moan that elicits from Noah echoes into your mouth, the feeling of pleasure taking over him for a moment. As the kiss lingers, your hands wander, discovering the contours of each other's bodies. His hands now gripping desperately at your body, one cinched below your thigh, pulling it up closer to him, the other hooked around the back of your neck, thumb rubbing delicate shapes into your skin. Every touch, every caress, elicits a gasp or a sigh from both of you, like a plea for more.

But eventually, the need for air becomes undeniable, and you reluctantly break the kiss, your lips still tingling from the connection. Breathless and flushed, you meet Noah's gaze, searching for reassurance and affirmation. He looks back at you, with the same search in his eyes. Almost like he’s looking for answers too, like he’s asking if he could continue. You lean your forehead against Noah's, your breaths intermingling as you revel in the afterglow of that passionate kiss. Both of you are out of breath, panting in an effort to regain some kind of consciousness. Time seems to stand still, as if the universe itself is holding its breath, acknowledging the significance of this shared moment. That is, until the rattle of the fridge door, and the flood of its light tears you from the moment, violently throwing you back to the reality around you. With a jolt, your head darts towards the source, the silhouette of Jolly in the fridge gives you your answer.

“Bout time you guys kiss and make up” he says, with such a carefree nature, a hint of humor playing in his last words. “Nick, you owe me 20!” He calls, exiting the room and around the corner.

“We’re they fucking, or just making out?” You hear Nick call from another room.

“Just making out. Thank Christ” Jolly answers to himself, leaving you and Noah to giggle, flushed red with embarrassment. Despite being caught in the act, it didn’t dampen the mood. You were still straddling Noah, but sitting more upright now. He sits up, readjusting so you sit atop his lap. He brushes a loose strand behind your ear, and looks at you tenderly.

It might be the lack of oxygen, but the way the colorful light from the tv dances on Noah’s face makes him seem more beautiful, like something you’ve never seen in him before.

In the room's shifting shadows, the illustrations decorating his neck come alive, dancing in the changing colors that starkly contrast with the white of his shirt. His hair was a mess, tangled and knitted from your fingers, but it was his eyes, and the way they looked into your soul, that made you feel at home. With your hands draped around his neck, you lean in once more, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. He closes his eyes and leans into you again, pushing his hands against your back to make you closer to him as you both revel in the fleeting moment. Even if it did change things in the future, you didn’t care.

665 notes · View notes

axcel-lucci · 5 months

Note

I've been coughing and feeling sick, I don't feel like getting up. This one is a request where female reader gets sick, has a flu, and its set in modern au. How would Law react when he hears that female reader has a flu for about two weeks, while being taken care of by Luffy, Ace, and Sabo? See female reader didn't want to disturb Law from work, so the ASL trio took care of her. Sabo is more responsible than his brothers. Plus Luffy would bring Marco to check on reader.😊🤧😷🤒

Tell me next time, dumbass.

Trafalgar Law x reader (fluff)

A/N: hi! Sorry I took a bit long because I was kinda down myself (can't get out of bed for reasons unknown) and can barely open my phone. So I hope this is alright! (Also unedited)

My masterlist

Coming up with a fever wasn't really (y/n)'s perfect idea of winter. What she imagined was snowball fights, snowman making, snow angels. Maybe that's the reason she's sick.

She could've told her boyfriend, Trafalgar Law, that is also a doctor, about it so he could take care of her, but she didn't.

She would always listen to him rant about how hectic it is to work in hospital owned by "grandline" whatever whatever it's name was. And she didn't want to bother him by a simple fever.

But that's alright, she has his best friends to help.

The "strawhats" (what Luffy likes to call his gang of friends) would visit from time to time. Especially chopper. Robin's support dog, specialising in anxiety and depression.

Even though the golden retriever is working, he couldn't help but stay beside (y/n) whenever Robin is around to visit.

Nami would usually just lay beside her staring at the ceiling. Mostly because she herself was bored.

While the others would drop by but not as often because they're quite busy.

Luffy on the other hand, would visit with his brother's almost every day.

Ace and Sabo apparently has doctor friends as well. One is named Marco and the other is named... Hongo? Was it?

"In theory, Marco said some warm soup or porridge would help you." Ace said

"In YOUR theory or in this... Marco person's theory?" (Y/n) asked. She knew it would help but hearing Ace say such a thing concerns her

"Wat?"

"What...?"

The two just stared at each other with confusion before sighing.

"You're making me hurt my brain, Ace. Get out of here" she groaned with a frown making him laugh.

"When are you planning to tell your boyfriend that you're sick? I'm sure he's worried because you're not calling him all the time like you used to." Sabi hums softly as he hands (y/n) a bowl of warm porridge as she starts to eat

"You know I don't want to worry him..." She muttered as she ate

"Eh? What do you mean?" Luffy tilts his head, "he asks about you all the time whenever he sees me."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah! When I said Marco was also helping, he kinda got up and left. I don't know why though..." Luffy muttered to himself with a pout.

"Luffy..." The three sighed with a bit of disappointment in their face

"What? What?"

"Let me take that..." Sabo said as he took the empty bowl from (y/n), "how do you feel...?"

"I'm feeling fine... I suppose..." She muttered slightly.

"Alright..." Ace sighed, "look. You should tell him, even if you're bothering him... I'm sure if I was your boyfr- I mean him, I'd also want to know my girlfriend's state."

She laughed a bit, "I know... I'll tell him eventually..."

"We need to go... I have night shift at work today and some agendas for the next... 2 weeks..." Sabo frowned slightly

"And Garp's coming over... As well as the family reunion in London..." Ace huffed, "will you be alright alone?"

"I'll be fine, don't you worry"

Oh the last words of someone burning up, phasing in and out of consciousness.

(Y/n) reached out to grab her phone, trembling hands scroll through her contacts list, her eyes blurry but eventually clicking one profile and calling it.

Putting it on speaker, and placing it beside her head.

Once she heard the familiar sound of someone on the other end picking up, she coughed slightly.

"Can you... Come over...? I don't feel so good..." She managed to mutter before passing out entirely. All she heard last was a panicked voice of her name being called and soon hanging up.

...

Law's pov

I was sitting at the on-call room, basically glaring at my phone screen, waiting for (y/n) to message me.

"If you stared any harder, that phone would crack" Marco chuckled beside me.

I just groaned a little, "tsk. You wouldn't know the worry I have for my girlfriend because you never had one." I snapped at him with a glare

"Ouch" he rolled his eyes.

My eyes snapped back at my phone once I heard it ring and seeing who was calling, my whole body seemed to relax to realize it was (y/n). After almost three days of silence from her, she finally called.

"Hello?" I answered.

I heard her cough, which wasn't a good sign already, her heavy breathing as well. "Can you... Come over...? I don't feel so good..." she muttered so weakly, I don't think I've ever heard her so weak before hearing her just huff out a heavy breath, I don't know why, but I had a feeling she had passed out.

"(Y/n)...? (Y/n)!" I called but had no more answer than her breathing heavily.

I stood up immediately and grabbed my stuff, changing out of my scrubs as well as I panicked.

"Woah there loverboy, you can't just leave in the middle of your shift" Hongo sighed, "but you know what? I'll take your shift, don't worry. Take care of your girlfriend"

I just gave him a swift nod before leaving and hopping into my car, wasting no time to power it up and drive off to her apartment.

I left my things inside the car, but took my wallet, phone, and the spare keys I had of her apartment with me as I rushed to go and unlock her apartment door.

At first glance, it was relatively quiet. Which wasn't entirely unusual considering at this time of day, she's either drawing or just laying in bed.

After locking the door, I threw my things on the kitchen counter and rushed to her bedroom to see her curled on her bed, her phone beside her head, and her face flush with what seemed to be a high rising fever.

I didn't waste any time and rushed to check her temperature. She was already so hot to the touch, but she started shivering a little.

"Don't worry, I'm here. I'll take care of you" I whispered to her before getting up and doing what is necessary to make her fever go down.

Eventually, her fever had subsided just enough so that her temperature was 39°.

Which was still a bit too high as a human's normal body temperature was 37° but at least a bit lower and manageable than before

"Silly girl..." I frowned as I kissed her forehead.

I continued to take care of her for the next 2 days. Hongo-ya and Marco-ya volunteering to cover my shift.

I'll need to find a way to repay them somehow, but for now, my focus is on (y/n) and her slow recovery.

(Y/n)'s pov

(Y/n) slowly woke up to the smell of what seems to be an aromatic scent of... Soup? Porridge? Whatever it is, it smells delicious.

But oddly enough, she doesn't have an appetite.

The door to her bedroom eventually opened and closed quietly as she then saw, through her thick eyelashes that were blurred with some tears, that Law was now in her apartment.

She could see relief in his actions when he placed down whatever he was doing and sat beside her on the bed, placing a hand on her cheek and wiping away the tears that managed to escape while she slept.

"You're finally awake..." His warm voice calls softly and kissed her forehead, "why didn't you tell me you were sick? I could've been here for you..."

"I... It's just that... You're really busy and... I don't want to..." She muttered before being silenced with a soft hush.

"Enough of that, didn't I tell you already that if you need me, just call...?" He frowned a bit before shaking his head, "we can talk about it once you're better. For now, sit up. I'm helping you eat."

With his help, she was able to sit up with her back against the headboard.

"Ahh" Law said after blowing the steam off a spoonful of soup, "I need you to eat even just a few bites so that you can drink some medicine. Okay...?"

She sighed as she forced herself to eat, she can't taste anything but her gut told her it was delicious.

"Blackleg-ya insisted for me to make you this soup... I hope it's alright" he says as he fed her a couple more times before she refused any more.

"Alright... Wait here and I'll grab some medicine."

She nods weakly as he left, but came back almost immediately with a glass of water and medicine in hand.

"Here..." He says as she drank the medicine and water, "that's my girl..." He smiled softly before kissing her cheek.

"Law..."

"Yes, love?"

"Thank you... For taking care of me all this time..." She smiled softly at him as well.

"Nonsense... This is the bare minimum. I promise, I'll take good care of you in the future. Just call me up and I'll be here. No matter how busy I am." He placed a hand over hers, "I want to kiss you on the lips but I'm afraid I might get infected. But I will kiss you once you're all better."

"I'm looking forward to that..." She said weakly with a tender smile.

"Now, get well soon alright? I'll be here." He smiled, "oh, and one thing... You should've told me, dumbass... I don't care how busy I am or whatever time is. I'll defy all odds just to be here for you."

"That's my boy..." She smiled as he chuckled.

194 notes · View notes

gortashs-skidmark · 29 days

Text

There are many brilliant ideas about Gortash and Durge. I would like to point some out below. Not all are mine.

HEADCANONS -

!! Some bulletpoints were taken from sources, from Gortash Fanficition. I have highlight the ones I know I got from fanfiction, I’ve linked all original source posts !! READ PLS !!

!! I do not want to be a plagiarist! if it's your fanfic, pls let me know if it makes you uncomfortable and I will remove it !!

*Orange means it's canon

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

The way Durge and Gortash know their doom is inevitable, but it was nice while it lasted trope.

Durge’s Prayers to Bhaal for forgiveness: Every time durgetash do the nasty, Durge whispers little prayer of forgiveness to their god.

<3 found reference!

Durge is the “good child” out of Bhaal’s children. Which means they have an image to keep up, and keep up with Bhaal’s plans. They’re under constant stress and fear from their father. Treating him like a father and God gets tough.

Gale’s line “with you, I forget my goddess” I love the idea of applying that to Durgetash: “You scare me. You make me feel like an individual, not like the spawn I am destined to be. I should not see you as an equal or take your companionship. But when I’m with you, I forget my god.” Something along those lines.

<3 found reference!

Durge is a fierce maniac but in no way competitive. I think there’s a laziness Durge and Gortash share. Unkempt. Uninterested in competition. Gortash just makes them an employee instead of killing them.

I love the idea Ketheric is just done with their bs. They’re two reasonable individuals but little giggly school girls in love at a catholic boarding house.

This headcanon is shared across Durge lovers! I will add one example but it is not unknown across the community!

<3 example!

Durge has personality. Scared to lose the rest of themself but scared to indulge when they’re with Enver. On one hand- handsome tyrant who wants to rules the world with them and peepaw. The other- fulfilling the worlds suffering for their father. Do they want either outcome. Durge’s neutral is to feel bittersweet or somber. (Or carnal damning lust)

When Durge has all those holes poked in their brain, and they’re with their travelling companions. They get nauseous after battle, they gotta sit down for a few. Sickened with themselves, or, feeling too much lust at once. Gale doesn’t ask why they need a rest, his knees need a break.

Durge has unusually soft spots on their skin. Made from Bhaal’s balls. Or from Bhaal’s inner arms, like the inner bicep or forearm. Soft and plush, possibly looser, where the skin is tougher. “He made me in his own image” fucked up kinda stuff.

Durge doesn’t harm Gortash. “When I like something I keep it good condition, I cherish it, I hone it, I keep it polished”

Durge is a clean person. Sloppy perhaps but their room is made up of minimalist decorations. A bookshelf and a small desk. They sleep on the softest fluffiest bed, anything to try and sleep as an insomniac. Bottles of empty angelic sleeping potions around the bed and on the side tables. They make their room up themselves. Some part of them wished they could share as much personality as their room does, so openly.

Durge has a hobby. Only hinted to those who are close. Cooking, cleaning, knitting, whatever you like. But it’s not something they share so much. They might comment on the poor stitching quality at Carmen’s Garms. Or how the fishermen on the docks will lie about the cod being sea bass, only a real cook would know.

Durge did/does temple services. I think they said that in the game. Lead everything. But also the Bhaalists are LAZY AS FUCK. And the Bhaalspawn spends hours cleaning the alter and other parts of the temple. The blood and guts and possible diseases?? Bhaalists def die off from blood diseases.

Being a Bhaalist means that it’s about the number of kills and the suffering of their victims, something Sarevok prefaced in game. Durge takes a different stance, placebo-ing themselves so they only kill a small number to last for awhile without blacking out and losing control. Like “I killed them in a manner I haven’t before- I’ll take satisfaction in their unique death more than usual”- spiraling and trying to make up for their guilt. OCD behavior.

Sarevok and Durge are toxic besties. Sarevok hates Durge but Durge comes back bc they’re lonely and need friends to relate to. Until Gortash.

Durge takes a liking to the Intellect Devourers before their fall- that special one named “Us”. Their brief interaction on the Nautiloid Ship when they lose their memories, Us was something they felt connected to. Adored it like a puppy. They feel a sense of incredible loss when they wake up on the beach without Us. But why? It’s a nasty brain with scaly claws, they shouldn’t feel sad.

#bg3 durge #the dark urge #enver gortash #dark urge x gortash #durgetash #bg3 #headcanons

97 notes · View notes

restinslices · 2 months

Note

Hey sorry I’m the Liu Kang requester that accidentally put you through a tone of pain (sorry bout that)

Gimme angst of him seeing the woman he loves dying and getting reincarnated over and over again and no matter what she keeps dying in his arms by unnatural causes. This is his last time, his final try to save her. Will he save her? Or will she die again?

Firstly, no need to apologize lol. I’m just brain empty 6/7 days of the week. Funny enough, once you sent this I got more ideas for Liu Kang so we’ll see more of him once I finish all my requests. Secondly, I really like this prompt. I really like this trope in general. But I feel like I wrote it so bad😭. I don’t feel like I did it justice. As I was writing it I was like “the hoes not gon like this. Why is my brain buns?”. So, apologies in advance-

When Liu Kang returned with Raiden after speaking to the Elder Gods, the last thing he expected was to see a blood bath caused by Sindel.

Bodies laid on the floor perfectly still. It was like someone laid a bunch of mannequins down and dressed them up to look exactly like the kombatants he cared for, and honestly if this was all just some cruel joke and everyone stood up and laughed, he would've breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe the anger would kick in later, but he'd sigh and say how happy he was to see everyone still alive.

The only body that moved was yours.

Your legs moved very slightly and your voice was so quiet, he was sure he wouldn't have been able to hear it if he wasn't silenced by shock.

He ran over to you and crouched by your side, “you are alright” he tried to offer both of you some sort of hope even if he knew it was not true. In reality you looked terrible. There was a deep slash that went from the side of your neck and diagonal down your body. Blood covered your clothes and soaked the floor beneath you and in all honesty, he had no idea how you were still alive. Perhaps it had something to do with the theory about animals. He wasn't calling you an animal and he didn't see you as a pet, but there was a theory that pets waited for their owner to return to them before they died instead of dying on their own. No one knew why. For comfort in their final moments? To say goodbye? For one last moment together? It was a question that would never get an answer and Liu Kang wondered if that theory went for friends and lovers as well.

“Don't speak. Preserve your strength. We'll find you help”. Your hand went up to caress his face and Liu Kang leaned into it, his face memorizing how your fingers felt against him. He wanted to have hope. You were strong enough to raise your hand to him so surely you'd be ok if they got you medical attention.

That hope was snipped from him within seconds.

As quickly as your hand raised, it fell back to the floor and your body went limp. That was it. There was no inspiration speech you gave before you died or some emotional moment he'd see in the plays he watched. It was over as soon as it started.

Your death upset him, yes. What really pushed him over the edge though is that his trip to the Elder Gods meant nothing. Shao Khan got closer and closer to invading Earthrealm and the Elder Gods refused to intervene. Their absence should've meant something. He should've came back with good news, but instead he came back with no answers, no help, no idea what to do next and hardly any friends left.

Your death plus the others is what ultimately led him to going against Raiden and his own untimely death.

In one universe, that was it. His pain was over. Liu Kang died, Earthrealm was invaded and Shao Khan killed everyone else. It's not what he wanted but being dead meant no more sorrow. Your bloody body was no longer imprinted in his mind and he would never touch his own face while imagining it was your hand again.

That's what happened in that timeline.

In another timeline, things were different, yet you still fell victim to a brutal fate.

The past and present merged for reasons unknown. You, Liu Kang and Kung Lao were sent to the Academy to make sure your enemies would not reach the Grotto. After dealing with traps, Scorpion and a Revenant Jade, he could feel how tense you were.

“You are silent” he stated, “it is not like you to be so silent”

“It's nothing”. You responded too quickly, but Liu Kang knew you. Sure, you could be quiet at times but completely silent? Your face bunched together? Fingers tapping against your leg as you walk? It wasn't “nothing” and he was sure he knew what you were thinking. It was something both you and Kung Lao seemed to think. Kung Lao had just been the only one to voice his concerns.

“They were mistakes-”

“How many mistakes can one person make?” You interrupted, “how many lives can be lost because of 'mistakes’? Raiden seems to make constant mistakes that hurt everyone around him, yet he escapes”. He understood your frustration. After all, he was told Raiden murders him himself, but was it murder if it was an accident? Could any of this be pinned on Raiden, the man he worships and respects?

No. This wasn't on him. Everyone made mistakes and some of your deaths weren't on Raiden at all. Some of you made your own stupid choices that led to your death. His version of Raiden would never do something so foul to any of his followers on purpose.

Liu Kang grabbed your hand -ignored Kung Lao's immature disgusted noises- and stopped the both of you from walking any further. “You can't lose faith in Lord Raiden”, you went to protest but he stopped you “if you want to blame him, then you have to blame me as well”.

You looked even more displeased than before, like he had said something treacherous. Was it though? Liu Kang didn't blame Raiden when it came to all of your deaths. He blamed himself. He's Earthrealm's champion, the chosen one if you will, and he couldn't save anyone? Wasn't that the point of him? To save everyone and give everyone a sense of hope?

Then his mind went to his Revenant self. In this timeline he saw his friends slaughtered like pigs and lived with this guilt, even if it was only for a short while. And now they were all revenants and Liu Kang couldn't help but wonder if this twisted version of himself still carried that guilt or did he see it as a blessing now?

Your fingers touching his cheek brought him back to reality, but that calming feeling only lasted so long. He didn't know how to describe it or why he was feeling this way, but he felt this tenseness all over his body like something terrible was going to happen.

“Why would I blame you for my death?”

That tense feeling became worse and he couldn't help but look around as he spoke, “I accompanied Lord Raiden to speak with the Elder Gods. If I had been there, then perhaps…” he didn't have to finish for you to understand. You snapped your fingers in front of his face and drew his attention back to you,

“I don't blame you for my death”

“And I don't blame you either. How sweet” Kung Lao said impatiently, sarcasm seeping through his words. “Now can we keep walking?”. He supposed he was right, even if he hated it. Before he started walking again, you placed a kiss on his cheek and Kung Lao once again voiced his disgust with sarcasm, “can I give you a kiss too?”.

“Something you wish to tell us, Kung Lao?” You joked and if it wasn't for the danger you three were in, he'd say he was really enjoying the quality time you three were spending together.

Kung Lao went to respond, but was interrupted when a figure came into view. A man with brown skin and these weird cracks that made him seem like he had been broken and put together multiple times and golden clothing. He was tampering with something he should not have been and Liu Kang knew he was in for another fight.

“Is there any point to us asking you to put those back?” he asked.

The male hardly regarded him and responded with “they said you'd come”.

“Who said?”.

An eerily familiar voice spoke out from the darkness, “who do you think Kung Lao?”.

Bright red eyes.

That's the first thing he saw.

Three pairs of these eyes lit up in the darkness, and the only time Liu Kang was able to focus on anything other than that, is when they all came fully into view. They were you, but a twisted version. The versions of you that were corrupted and no longer cared for Earthrealm, but about what they could gain and destroy. Your revenants. That feeling of dread got stronger and he put his body in front of yours like a shield.

Revenant him spoke next, “welcome to your future. Courtesy of Raiden”.

“Our future may be tragic, but it's not Lord Raiden's fault. You've all been warped by Shinnock's evil”.

“Raiden’s continued ignorance gets others killed” revenant you said, “how many times can he excuse deaths by saying they're mistakes? While he consulted with the Elder Gods, Sindel wiped us out”.

“Shao Kahn snapped my neck in the arena” revenant Kung Lao said. “Raiden saw it coming, and did nothing!”.

“I would have defeated Shao Kahn, but Raiden wanted the glory. His lightning cut me down”

“No!” Liu Kang exclaimed, “I don't believe that!”.

“One day Raiden will betray you. Then you'll believe”.

What happened next is something Liu Kang has tried on numerous occasions to forget. It's why he tries to stay busy. As long as he's busy and his mind is preoccupied, his mind will hopefully not replay the events that happened.

“It happened so fast” is clichè to say. He knew this, but it genuinely went by so fast. One moment he was fighting against himself, and the next everything went wrong.

That sense of dread and fear got worse and worse and it wasn't for Kung Lao. He worried about him the normal amount you'd worry about your friend in kombat. All these feelings were about you. He had been so distracted and constantly looking over his shoulders at you, that he hadn't realized how desperate the revenants had gotten for a win. They were losing and they had to do something about that.

Liu Kang didn't see “Kung Lao” take off his hat and throw it at him. All he remembers is seeing you run at him, colliding with the floor after you kicked him away, and the hat decapitating you.

It was one of those moments where everything seemed to stop. In reality, he only stared at you for a few seconds. In his mind it felt as though he stared at your limp frame for hours before the blood pooling out of your neck was too much for him and he had to look away.

He had failed… again.

It seemed as though the Elder Gods enjoyed laughing at his torment because they gave him what could be his final chance.

“Are you upset with me?” Liu Kang asked. Not too long ago he was forced to reveal the truth about the past timelines and the danger you were all in and since then you kept quiet and to yourself. He wouldn't blame you for being upset, but he really hoped you weren't. Confused or shocked, yeah. Just not upset.

“I'm just thinking about our plan against Quan Chi and Shang Tsung” you answered quietly. He hated you weren't looking at him and for the first time ever he wished he had the power to read minds instead of fire. Maybe that was a blessing though. Your thoughts could possibly destroy him.

“But that is not all” he challenged. “Tell me”.

“Is that an order from my creator?”

He frowned and although he wanted to touch you, he kept his distance. “It is a request from your lover and friend”. You turned to face him and thankfully, you didn't seem upset. He expected something worse, like you yelling and looking at him and horror but instead you just looked lost. That was the best way he could describe it.

“I'm sorry, that's not fair to you”.

“You don't have to apologize to me. Just please, tell me what you are thinking”. You sighed and after what seemed like some debating, you stepped closer to him and grabbed his hand and the beating in his chest slowed.

“Were we lovers in the past timeline?”, he nodded and he had a feeling he knew where this was going. “We are replacements for what you lost and that means-”

“No” he said louder than he planned to.

“The memories you have with me aren't actually with me. I'm not the actual person you're in love with. You want me because you want her”

“You're wrong” his voice came out stern and his eyebrows lowered, “the reason I am yours is because I adore everything about you. I brought you back because I valued who you are as a person, but I was not drawn to you because of who you were”. He brought your hand to his cheek, the feeling being familiar in a painful yet comforting way. “I see you for you, and our memories are ours to make”.

You smiled at him and instead of feeling relief, a familiar feeling of dread creeped up on him.

No… no this wouldn't happen again. It couldn't.

His calm facade slipped and the pain of the memory showed on his face. He tried to cover it up, but he was too slow. “Memories?”, you asked. He nodded. “What happened to us in the past timeline?”.

He shook his head, wanting the memories to go away. “A story for another time” he replied grimly and stepped away from you. As bad as it sounded, Liu Kang didn't want to love you. He wanted to bring everyone back, including you, but he wanted nothing to do with you romantically. A mentor type of relationship would hopefully make the possibility of losing you hurt less, but fate brought you back together again. When fate brought you together, it always seems to cut you down. Two steps forward and three steps back.

“I don't know if this will help, but if something terrible happened to me… I don't blame you. None of us blame you for any of our untimely deaths”

“I don't blame you for my death”

That was the last thing you said to him.

Your words were so similar yet different, and that uneasy feeling got stronger.

“Perhaps it would be best if you stayed behind” he tried to say as calmly as he could. Maybe this was the wrong decision, but he didn't wanna scare you and telling you about your untimely deaths in both timelines seemed like the wrong idea.

“What?” You asked confused, “we need all hands on deck. I'll be fine”.

“You can help in your own way”

“How?”. He hadn't thought of a task or an excuse to use and as he tried to rack his brain for an answer, you spoke again “for your sake I can stay right on your tail. You'll always know I'm right there but Liu…” your hand found his again, “over worrying only leads to bad things. Remember that”.

What he felt next was weird. He considered your words and as he did so, that feeling of dread started to slip away. He didn't understand why and he didn't realize what the best course of action was until it was too late.

You accompanied him and many others to stop Shang Tsung and Quan Chi and that went as well as anyone with his luck could expect. He had found out Shang Tsung from the original timeline was still alive and actively trying to destroy his era of peace, and then to make matters worse, an evil Raiden and Sindel made their appearance. Raiden was simple but being there and watching Sindel challenge them all gave him memories he didn't even have.

He wondered if this is what happened to the past version of you. He wondered how different it was. He knew Sindel killed you and other kombatants. Is this how it happened? His attention went to you and that feeling of dread got stronger and stronger.

This was it. This is when it'd happen.

He stayed close to you the entire time and since he was so distracted, Sindel took the opportunity to use her hair to grab both your ankles and knock you both down.

Liu Kang saw you try to get up to assist Sindel with her evil counterpart, and he gripped your ankle and pulled you towards him.

“What are you doing?!” he saw how angry you were and he hated it, but he'd hate you dying even more. He kept a grip on you, so concerned with keeping you down, that he stopped paying attention to Sindel. He was only alerted to what had happened when he heard Kitana and Mileena scream.

Sindel had been fatally wounded.

Guilt pushed down on his shoulders and he let you go. Why couldn't he do both? Protect you and save Sindel? Then he felt even more guilty because he let out a sigh of relief when he realized that he broke the cycle. He won!

He won.

He won?

Why did that feeling of dread get stronger?

The feeling of dread and death got so strong, his shoulders actually felt weight on them. It felt like multiple people were pushing his shoulders down, while he tried his best to stand up.

One last battle was left and he knew you absolutely could not go. This timeline must've been different. It made sense. The first one Sindel killed you, the second one revenant Kung Lao killed you. It must be the battle that kills you in this timeline.

He couldn't let that happen.

“You've gone mad if you think I'll stay here!” You weren't exactly taking his command the best, but he knew this was for the better. This battle had to be what would kill you. You had to stay far away and locked away.

“I realize now what I must do to save you. You have to stay here until the battle is over. You'll be safe”. He tried to stay calm, hoping it'd ease your mood but it seemed to do the opposite. You weren't known to be angry, so seeing you look so bitter and hateful made his heart ache but he knew he was making the right decision.

“You're insane. I have to help” you tried to walk away but he grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards him harder than he meant to.

“No! Do as I say” he meant for it to come out commanding, but there was an edge of pleading. “Have faith in me”.

“Faith?” You gawked, “faith? In you? What about you having faith in me?!” You yanked your wrist away from him and rubbed it. “I could've helped Sindel and saved her life, but you kept me down!”

“Sindel would have killed you! Forgive me if I can't allow that”

“So my life is more special than everyone else's? You let everyone fight, get hurt and die but somehow I'm more special? Do you not see how twisted that is?”. He didn't wanna think about it that way. He felt awful after Sindel's death, but he would've been paralyzed if it was you instead. It made him feel guilty, as if he personally killed Sindel himself. It wasn't like that though! You wouldn't have stood a chance! Why couldn't you see that?

“You never let me do anything. I love you, but you suffocate me! I can't be more than two steps away from you without there being a problem”. He was protecting you like he knew he had to.

“I worry-”

“You worry too much! What good comes from being paranoid? I've said it before. Only bad things happen when you over worry”. You tried to walk away again and he grabbed your wrist again.

“I can't let you fight with us!”

“Why can't I be your champion?!” You shouted. “Why Raiden instead of me?!”

“He won-”

“He won a mini tournament you didn't even let me participate in, even after I asked you to!”. You were right. He remembers you begging for days, but he always said no. He made the excuse that you were better by his side and for immediate support but in reality, you in Mortal Kombat was a risk he didn't want to take.

You did something he didn't expect next. You pulled out the amulet Raiden was supposed to have, out of your pocket. “This should be mine”.

“How do you have that?”

“Raiden is easy to steal from. I don't know how he's survived this long” you said dismissively. He didn't like it. That amulet gave you more confidence and he couldn't afford that. You'd understand why he was so protective once the fight was over.

“It doesn't belong to you for a reason. You're not Earthrealm's champion for a reason. You can't fight in this war for a reason”

“You want to lock me up like I'm your enemy! Like I'm a prisoner! I'm not Bi-Han!”

“You are not a prisoner. You're protected”

You let out a frustrated sigh and took a moment to collect your thoughts. “I'll return this, but when are you gonna realize the only way we're gonna work is if you let me out this cage you built?”. The sudden softness of your words took him by surprise and his grip loosened enough so you could slip your wrist out.

You walked away and the further you got, the more that pressure eased up on his shoulders. It didn't make sense. Why was that feeling changing now when you were leaving him? You weren't supposed to leave! You were supposed to stay here, safe and sound and wait for him to come back to you!

His mind was moving fast and without truly thinking, he shot fire in front of you. “Stop!”

He regretted it immediately. You had no warning and as the fireball passed you, it burnt one of your hands badly. You screamed and held your hand with your other, trying to soothe a wound he knew wouldn't stop aching that fast.

His heart sunk and he froze. To say he felt awful would be an understatement. He wasn't quite sure how to place it, but “bad” or “awful” weren't the right words. He never meant to actually harm you. It was the last thing he wanted to do.

Feelings of dread reached an all time high when you turned around, a mix of hurt and rage on your face. “You'd hurt me to make me stay?! Enough of your madness! If I have to fight you, then so be it!”.

He felt the same feeling he had when he watched you die. Everything was so fast, yet slow at the same time.

You pulled out the amulet and lightning flew. Liu Kang shot fire at it and that's when he realized his mistake.

A reaction happened and since the lighting was attached to the amulet, all that power surged back at you, throwing you back and severely burning you.

“By the gods! No!” he shouted and ran towards your body, which seized before going limp.

No. This was not meant to happen.

This isn't what he wanted.

He held your now bloody and burnt form, hoping that someone you'd make a recovery. He wanted to scream and burn everything down to the ground. How did he manage to fail again?!

“Forgive me…” he muttered.

You said nothing in return.

As he sat there in complete silence, the smell of burnt flesh filling his nose and tears falling down his face, he thought back to your words from before.

“Over worrying only leads to bad things. Remember that”.

“You worry too much! What good comes from being paranoid? I've said it before. Only bad things happen when you over worry”.

That's when it hit him.

Your death to Sindel may have not been his fault, but him carrying the guilt of your death plus others clouded his judgment. He refused to listen to reason. He attacked Raiden and he was killed because of it.

He was so focused and worried about you during your battle against the revenants, that he became sloppy. If he was focused, he would've noticed Kung Lao throwing his hat at him. He would've reacted in time. You wouldn't have had to kick him away and you wouldn't have died.

If he let you go, you could've helped and saved Sindel.

If he let you join the final battle instead of being paranoid, he wouldn't have accidentally harmed you and you wouldn't have attacked him. He wouldn't have had to fight back and you wouldn't have died.

If he wasn't so paranoid to begin with, you wouldn't have been as frustrated and maybe you would've actually stayed behind.

How did he not see it before? He gave up his power as a Titan, fearing he'd go insane like Kronika, but in his own way he had done the same thing. His need to protect became over worrying and that became paranoia and he allowed it to destroy himself and worst of all, he allowed it to destroy you and your relationship.

The crushing feeling getting lighter when you talked about him letting you go, or you walking away, was because that's what he was supposed to do. There was nothing wrong with protecting, but his paranoia led to your downfall more than once. Maybe there were even more timelines that ended in your death or both of your deaths.

The more he understood, the more his chest burned and the louder his sobs got. How could he have been so blind? How many times had he failed? Why did the Elder Gods punish him instead of the actual evil people in the world? He wasn't perfect by any means, but where was this sort of punishment for people like Shao? Or Shang Tsung? Or Quan Chi? Or anyone else who had wickedness in their heart and fed off chaos and strife? Why did he have to suffer such a cruel fate over and over again?

Maybe if he could somehow get his powers back or see if Geras could reverse time or erase this timeline and start again, he could do better.

He could erase all he did wrong. He could keep his era of peace. He could save everyone. He could save you.

All he needed was one more chance.

Although I think this is buns, the reader’s death mimicking Liu Kang’s death in MK9 eats down

#mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 #liu kang x reader #liu kang x you #liu kang mk1 #liu kang #liu kang angst #liu kang x y/n #mk1 angst #mk1 oneshot #Liu Kang oneshot

78 notes · View notes

soraviie · 10 months

Text

━ type: jungkook x gn! reader ━ navigation

━ about: a healthy splash of angst; reader is slightly older than Jungkook (also in denial) and he is a whole forest because there's just so much pine

━ requested by @manavi-meera (?) tumblr deleted your ask when I tried to write in it, all I saw was the gif :/

"Just think about it."

"It's Jungkook!"

"Yeah, it's Jungkook. So think about it."

"Hmm."

It's around when your foot is halfway across the threshold that Yoongi speaks again — just as somber as he'd begun the conversation. If, of course, one's ex-boyfriend turned best friend hurtling a bunch of mistruths and delusions at a completely oblivious and confused party of the other could be construed as a "conversation".

"Oh and ______________?"

You turn around, feeling some form of clammy fear sink its grimy talons around your gut the longer this stifled, awkward bout of silence drags on.

"Yeah?"

"Just...be kind. No matter what you do."

And because for some unknown reason a sudden knot appears at the base of your throat, you can't speak — without rhyme or reason it seems nigh impossible to utter a single word so you nod. Nod and leave Yoongi to sit in his studio alone and with that disconcerting glimmer in his eye.

Jungkook liking you — one has to laugh!

“Old man has to be checked for dementia,” you grouse to yourself, the only thing hearing your discontent being the darkness of the emptied hallway.

The thought! The absolute gall!

Jungkook liking you…

It’s — it's ridiculous!

But because of one nosey little fucker, the idea has been planted in your head now and like an invasive species of flora, it refuses to leave your gardens alone.

You try to imagine, you give it an honest, good effort but even now, after all these years what you see before your eyes when thinking of Jungkook are those big, wet eyes. It doesn’t matter how many tattoos and piercings he adorns himself with, how many bikes he drives through the night in the name of the thrill, none of it matters — to you he’s just a gangly kid, always turning his face away so you don’t see the nearly constant state of panic reflected in his features.

What Yoongi has been smoking you have no idea, frankly you certainly don’t want to try it if it causes this sort of brain damage.

Jungkook yearning for you.

Yearning. Just hearing that word bounce back in your skull makes you scoff. Yearning was for torrid love affairs and sentimental romance books; no one in real life yearned. Who could possibly have the time?

Grab your jacket —> go home —> forget this ever happened —> maybe share a demure chuckle or two with Yoongi five years laters, because obviously he’d be embarrassed about being this wrong about something but the plan is fucked.

It’s fucked because big, brown eyes are staring right back at you, as you round the corner into the wardrobe and more importantly they’re holding your jacket. Well, his hands, not the eyes. Eyes couldn’t hold things.

“Welcome back,” Jungkook outstretches the jacket towards you, his voice rumbling low in the chest. It’s usually a pleasant hum but because of Yoongi you cannot help but wonder whether it’s a pleased hum as well. “Why didn’t you tell me you're stopping by?”

Had it been just yesterday you would have punched his arm, rolled your eyes and annoyed the ever loving shit out of him, saying he’s not your boyfriend — you don’t owe him to know when and where you’re coming and going but it’s today and suddenly merely touching him feels excruciatingly awkward.

“Must have slipped my mind,” you mutter, struggling to put the jacket on. A faint wrinkle of discontent worms its way in the space between his eyebrows. Frustration rises and he outstretches himself to help you — out of instinct, out of annoyance? — you're not quite sure, before it never crossed your mind to ponder about it. However, now that you do your legs take an automated step back and Jungkook's hands after a second of lingering contemplatively into the air, half reached out towards you drop back to his thighs — unassuming and still.

"Something wrong?" he asks, inclining his head to the side and why....

...why is it sort of cute?

Cute in a very Jungkook way but not in a usual Jungkook way because usually he was like a little brother you never wanted and...

"__________________?"

...and you're spiralling.

"Yeah?" you blink down on him and the frown on his face deepens.

"You're a bit," jerkily, he waves his fingers around. "Out of it."

"You're like a brother to me, right?"

You didn't mean for it to come out as a question but it is now and it's terrifying. It's terrifying because Yoongi was right. Jungkook's not laughing or scoffing or even acting annoyed or offended by this familiarity. Rather there's this ashen film covering his face and the longer his gaze flits anxiously from one spot to another — anywhere but your own persona — the more you understand.

He'd thrust his heart into your awkward hands and now you're simply horrified to even hold it with more pressure — what if it breaks, what if you hurt it in anyway? It feels more like an injured bird than a heart — any wrong move and you would do something that would weigh down on you for the rest of the remaining days.

It's your turn to call out his name and echoing the same confused, absent-minded state you're in, he hums at the mention of his name, eyes hazy and teeth gnawing on his lip.

"I mean I always thought we're...friends, you know?"

"You're still—"

"I'm not little anymore."

For a second he gains a new sort of resolution - the hazy veil in his eyes is traded for something more steel like and his spine straightens just for a second befoer he collapses into himself, muttering with no small amount of bitterness:

"I'm not a kid, ___________, and you're not that much older than me."

"I know it's just," there is an ill-willing sense of a migraine coming on - you could feel it into the tepid albeit painful tension sitting at the base of your neck. "I guess it's just hard to shake off first impressions, Koo."

He gives an ugly sort of snort — a bit bitter, a bit self-depreciating — and you swear there is a "don't I know it" under his breath, grumbled in a tone that implies it's something of an inside joke with himself.

You wonder what it means.

"I'll walk you home," he suddenly utters, jumping up from the seat. Was he always such a beefcake? Your stare lingers just a touch too long and now that the proverbial scales had been ripped off your eyes you fully grasp how he preens underneath this crumb of attention.

It brings back the awkward feel in your hands — like holding something too small and too precious while walking across a tightrope.

"I didn't ask—"

"Tough shit," he throws over his shoulder, already walking away, pretending to be all cool.

"When did you get so commanding?" you grouse, rushing to keep up with him. It's a bit easier to breathe for now, here in the desolate hallway of HYBE's lower wardrobess, things have for now returned to normal and you revel in that fact though in the back of your mind you know things are soon to change. Conversations will be had and secrets will be spiilled, be it for better or worse. You know it and Jungkook knows it but for now you both pretend it's the same it used to be and bicker to your heart's delight.

"Spank me then."

"Fucking perv."

"Who do you think I learned it from?"

"From Namjoon's truly godless porn sites."

"I'm a good boy, I would never."

"Wipe that sly grin off your face and maybe I'll believe you."

send in a picture of the boys and I’ll write a scenario

#why did this turn out so messy lmaaaoooo #yoongi being the ex boyfriend whose aware of Jungkook's feelings #reader being awkward and scared #and older than Jungkook #and him pining for reader but clearly being insecure about the age thing and how being viewed as a kidd #this is some telenovela shit (T_T)#anyway I'm back baby #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #bts angst #jungkook angst #bts drabble #jungkook drabbles #file/picture series/jungkook

173 notes · View notes

yanderes-galore · 4 months

Note

Can you do fluffy au ennard concept?

I had this idea written for a few days before my hiatus, so here it is finally!

Yandere! Fluffy AU! Ennard Concept

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Clingy behavior, Gore, Graphic descriptions, Unethical experimentation, Parasocial companionship, Disturbing dark themes, Forced companionship, Dubious ending, Primarily just horror if I'm being honest.

Ennard is the pinnacle of ambition in this AU.

He (They?) are the result of Afton being drunk on power.

Why should he stop at anthropomorphic mascots?

What's stopping him from making a human/animal hybrid!?

Ennard is the result of an unknown human's DNA mixed with the DNA of Funtime Foxy and Freddy.

In a twisted way that would make him related to the two (as brothers… hopefully… *shutter*).

Ennard may not have any personality issues… but there's a whole lot of physical issues.

The skin visible on him (just his face) is unnaturally pale.

It also has seams like Foxy and Freddy.

Everything else?

A mess of fleshy tendrils and the occasional extra eye.

Ennard, in this AU, is an abomination.

Something that should have never existed.

A reason to not play God.

In all honesty, Ennard should have been put down.

He can barely replicate human speech.

He has little to no protection from the elements.

Yet what happens instead?

He evolves.

Like some creature from Resident Evil, instead of dying Ennard adapts.

The stench of blood announces his presence and he grows.

Soon he grows a protective layer over the exposed muscle he was born with.

Then he grows a set of vocal cords to mimic voices and tones.

The mess of human and animal flesh becomes something new.

A monster that Afton decides to keep alive due to the progress.

Ennard appears to get along with Freddy and Foxy and looks at them fondly.

But there's one person he gets along with the most.

You, an unfortunate scientist, meant to watch the underground layer of the facility.

Your line of work deals with the failures.

Things like Mangle or Funtime Freddy are under your care.

This also includes Ennard, who is kept locked away from all the rest.

He is different, he's highly adaptable and a potential danger.

He probably has a similar ability to Mangle that allows him to form with flesh.

(Which opens up the possibility of Molten Freddy and The Blob later on.)

He is dangerous and unstable.

So the job is to watch and appease him.

There's cameras in the cell, he's fed food, then there's time to socialize with him through a glass window and speaker.

Ennard acts similarly to a child as he develops.

The brain and mind adapt and grow like the rest of his body.

He repeats sign language you teach and when he has vocal cords he repeats words.

It's all very unnerving to you.

Ennard acts very human despite the appearance he takes.

Even then you catch him growling like an animal in frustration at times.

You have to remind yourself he isn't a human, he's a mess of DNA born into flesh.

Ennard listens to your words when you speak to him.

It's as though he has imprinted on you… seeing you as some sort of role model.

He often presses his pale and twitching face to the glass to get a good look at you.

You try to hold back your nausea when it happens.

You wonder how he lives like this.

You are quite thankful you're not allowed in his cell.

This is due to the growth and unknown abilities of Ennard.

Luckily you just have to sit and interact.

Much to Ennard's dismay… the creature really wishes he could be closer to you.

The glass is dumb to him… sadly, you have no idea how much of a bad idea teaching him is.

Your little lessons and interactions make him smarter.

Smart enough to the point he plots escape….

He can't get very far until Golden Freddy breaks out, but when that does happen?

Ennard is free… free to adapt, survive, and find freedom.

Their appearance by this point is vaguely human.

More skin has grown on… yet thick tendrils of muscle still twitch like tentacles around his body.

It's as though if he continues to grow… you may not be able to tell the difference between him and a human.

Except for the height and patches of what looks like white fur, at least.

Ennard's new goal is obviously to look for you.

He knows about the nice scientist in the glass box.

He wants to find you! He wants to finally be close to you!

While you try to evacuate the facility you hear warnings of all sorts of beasts in the underground level breaking out.

You do your best to gather research and prepare to escape.

Only to hear oddly heavy footsteps near you.

You turn… only to be met with the abomination you had tended to.

He's different, he's certainly grown more.

The many eyes he has stares into you with a look of adoration.

In a garbled tone he tries to express his feelings towards you.

You simply shake your head and cry… you scream… you want to leave.

Unfortunately, such a thing is not your fate…

You begin to realize that as the abomination closes in on you.

He can finally be closer to you… as close as he can be.

#yandere five nights at freddy's #yandere fnaf #yandere fnaf sister location #yandere fnaf fluffy au #yandere ennard #yandere fluffy au ennard

70 notes · View notes

httpskuzuu · 11 months

Text

Cello

Yandere!Fyodor x Reader

I am spanish and I have no idea of english, I translated this by google so I am sorry if there are mistakes, idk

it's the first time I write for him so it's probably that fyodor is quite out of character, sorry for that too.

tw: kidnapping, yandere, manipulation¿, mentions of god, I think, stockholm syndrome, fyodor is a general tw.

I have been a whole month kidnapped by Fyodor.

The first three weeks there I was in a dark and empty basement, typical of a horror movie. I don't remember much from when I was in the basement, my brain decided that the best thing for me would be to forget everything I experienced there, I only remember very specific things. I remember that he didn't talk to me until the first week, and that I stopped crying on the fifth day. Since I stopped crying the emotions disappeared, there was fear, of course, but at a lower intensity than at the beginning.

After my stay in the basement he decided to take me upstairs, he gave me a room to myself and from then on all our interactions were cold and distant, almost null most of the time.

Today I decided to go back to writing, a hobby I had before I was kidnapped. It was relaxing and made me feel a little better, it made that emotional block that I had been carrying with me since the fifth day here disappear for a few seconds.

Everything was going well until I heard his cello being played, that made me not be able to continue writing. I don't know why I couldn't continue, maybe the simple fact of knowing that Fyodor was just a door away from me made me disconcerted. Now, for some reason, I am about to open that door that separated us.

I opened the door cautiously. The room is moderately large, with Fyodor in the middle, seated and holding the cello between his legs. His slender hands play the chords of a song, unknown to me, with such elegance, he has an amazing composure as his fingers lightly press the strings of the cello. His face is expressionless and cold, but suddenly he looks at me out of the corner of his eye.

The silence is suddenly deafening, with the atmosphere too tense to be true. Fyodor stops playing his cello and looks directly at me.

"I'm sorry, did I break your concentration?" I break the silence in when it becomes too much for me. It's been a while since he's spoken, not in full sentences, at least.

His gaze is different, I can't describe it accurately. I've never been able to describe Fyodor accurately.

"No, I was simply thinking about the meaning of your actions." Was it curiosity I'm noticing in his tone? I really don't know, I'm not that good at reading people.

Fyodor put his cello aside and approaches me calmly. He's much taller than me, much to my disgrace. I can smell his cologne on him, it's heady and expensive, I wouldn't mind smelling it any longer.

He smiled slightly, a fake smile, his eyes didn't move from his cold expression.

"There's not much to think about it." Even I didn't know why I walked in. "I guess I wanted to hear you play your cello closer, it sounds beautiful."

I noticed a small change in his expression, now he was really smiling, not only his mouth but also his eyes formed a smile. He keeps his hands folded behind his back as he looks at me intently. I feel nervous about his whole body language, and more so about the fact that he hides his hands, he can perfectly kill me with them in just seconds and I wouldn't see it coming.

"You were looking at me, weren't you? And yet you didn't join me. It's strange that you want to look at me."

The mere thought of approaching him and hearing him play gave me chills. I just shrugged, hoping that would be answer enough for him.

"Will you keep playing?"

"Of course, would you like to join me this time?" Fyodor's smile softened as he said those words, and I, surprisingly, returned the same smile.

"Sure."

I followed him to the center of the room, he sat in his chair and I sat on the floor beneath him. He feeling of inferiority didn't take long to come from being in this position, and more so with his gaze fixed on me, making me feel like I was prey.

I listen attentively to Fyodor's melody, while playing with my hair from time to time to try to calm the nerves of being under Fyodor. My gaze is riveted on him, I feel like a believer watching his God. From the perspective below, Fyodor's features stood out much more, making everything even more enigmatic.

Fyodor stopped playing and looked at me with those violet eyes, pale and piercing, calculating yet peaceful. "What is it, маленькая мышь?" he looked like he could almost read my mind. "What's in that pretty head of yours?" He almost seemed to want to annoy me by the way I looked at him, and more so when he kept a playful smile on his lips.

"Nothing important…" I felt too helpless against Fyodor, against the closest thing to a god in this world. I'm on the ground in front of the Russian, completely vulnerable and helpless, I'm easy prey for him.

"Lying to your God?" his hand came to rest on my hair and began to slowly stroke it. The first affectionate touch I had had in this whole month, it was inevitable to enjoy it and it was inevitable to close my eyes so I could feel it better.

"I'm sorry…" I know very well that Fyodor could kill me simply by activating his ability right now, but for some reason I simply couldn't feel fear about it. I simply stopped bothering and let myself go.

"You belong to me, моя любовь." His hand went down to my cheek and I just leaned against it. "I will never let you go, мой дорогой." He seemed to be talking more to himself than to me, but I nodded anyway.

"I know, I won't try to leave." And I'm not lying, I don't have it in my plans to try, I know well what Fyodor is capable of.

"You have no choice." I opened my eyes slowly to see his figure looming over me, he had a sadistic smile on his face, and leaned closer. His eyes moved to my lips. "If you try to leave, you will be punished."

I don't like that word, punish, it makes me feel like a helpless child. That was a bitter thought, to think of Fyodor as a father angry at his son for disobeying, to think of Fyodor as a God angry at his worshipper for not having faith.

I nodded again as I snuggled even more against his hand. Comfortable enough to forget those thoughts, comfortable enough to forget the situation I was in.

#fyodor x reader #yandere fyodor #bsd fyodor #fyodor #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bsd x reader #fyodor x you #fyodor x y/n #bsd x you #yandere bsd

200 notes · View notes

rrxnjun · 1 year

Text

how to self-sabotage: a bulletproof guide by zhong chenle

pairing: rival! zhong chenle x fem! reader genre: college au | humor, fluff wc: 10.8k warnings: swearing, a mention of alcohol and weed, this is written like a bad disney channel sitcom. i really channeled my inner business graduate with this fic i am so sorry a/n: this is a repost from yesterday bc tumblr was shitty and turned my text black!! playlist: self-sabotage - waterparks ; are you gonna be my girl - jet ; countdown (1, 2, 3) - nct dream ; teenager in love - neon trees ; maniac - conan gray ; drama - txt

one would say it's ungraceful to turn a charity fundraiser into a competition, but you and zhong chenle have no boundaries when it comes to beating each other in a fight. crashing each other's plans, making irresponsible decisions, all just for the sake of winning a competiton you two made yourself; zhong chenle finds a turn of events when the whole thing turns into a self-sabotage.

❥ hello! this is y/n and welcome to my new youtube video! to celebrate my 600 followers milestone, I prepared something special: let's look at all the boys I've ever had a crush on and interrogate them with a fun questionare! for today's part, we have the boy that tried to sabotage me, but ended up doing quite the opposite: zhong chenle himself! ❥

this fic is a part of my collab! find the rest of the works from the dream chronicles collab here! [tba]

Sitting at the table, fingers drumming against the light wood, you stare into the unknown and make your dear friend Jisung a little afraid of what’s about to come. Being your best friend is always a challenging fact, considering your over-the-top ideas and drive that makes your clueless friend a little taken aback, but with the premise of a challenge– the charity event that’s going to take place at your university, he already knows he’s up for something wild.

Maybe taking a step back from your master plan would be a better idea. Jisung would save his sanity and also, most likely, a lot of trouble; but that’s not who Park Jisung is. If anything, he’s a loyal friend. No one will take that title away from him. And that’s exactly why he’s sitting opposite of you right now, listening to the hum of the cafeteria, waiting for what you have to say.

“How many people are joining?” you ask, voice stone cold and focused. You don’t meet Jisung’s eye, focusing on the people flowing in and out of the cafeteria instead, the gears in your brain turning faster than on your midterms.

“I don’t know exactly, but I’d say around ten teams of people, each one consisting of at least two to three people, so… at least 30..?” Jisung hums, quickly calculating the numbers in his brain.

“30…. so that means we have at least a 20% chance of winning,” you mutter, chewing on your bottom lip and furrowing your brows, seemingly lost in thought.

“That- that’s not adding up, Y/N…” Jisung mumbles, running the numbers through his brain once again, trying to see if he’s made a mistake or if it was you. See, Jisung is not a straight A student– that’s what you’re here for, after all– but when it comes to Maths, he’s pretty confident. He’s not quite sure why it’s the only subject he’s good at, considering it might be the hardest of the course, but for some reason, logical things are easy for him to grasp.

“I ruled out the freshmen girls, they’re absolutely not winning this. Also, Renjun and Jeno are out as well, because they will underestimate everything and not try hard enough. That leaves us with Yangyang and Hyuck, since I know damn well that each and every girl that’s ever hooked up with either of them will hop on their dicks and buy anything they’re selling,” Jisung chuckles at the seriousness of your voice as you talk, finding the fact that you’re taking this whole thing as your main mission of the semester amusing, “and then… Him. He’s the professor’s favorite. And he’s super good at persuading people. And I know damn well he’s gonna try hard, so actually, the chances of winning are split into three teams, so we have an approximately 30% chance of winning the prize.”

Jisung blinks at you a few times, trying to clear his head. Right now, you look like you’ve been programmed– a robot with no emotions, only set on the task it’s been told to do. You’re not even blinking, he notes and immediately gets freaked out– because what if they switched his best friend for a robot while he was sleeping? What if this is some sick experiment? What if he’s in the Truman show? You may never know these days…

“Y/N, that’s not-”

“It’s 50/50, actually,” you cut him off, nodding.

“How can it be-”

“Simple. It’s me or him. And I will do anything in my power to win, Jisung, so be prepared for a fight,” you order, taking a sip of your water, still not meeting eyes with your companion. Jisung’s kind of glad for that, though– what if you turned into a siren and eye contact with you will turn him into stone? He really doesn’t need that, he hasn’t even had his first girlfriend yet. He’s too young to die!

“It’s for charity, for fuck’s sake, don’t be so competitive…” Jisung sighs, taking another bite of his sandwich that he forgot he was eating for a second as you started with your business meeting, shaking his head in disbelief at your antics. Is anyone even taking this whole thing so seriously?

The business department at your university is having a charity event the upcoming month. The goal is to sell things and raise the most money you can– it’s all for a good cause, of course. The only thing is that your university already realized that your generation, although it loves to help people in need, won’t do anything without having enough motivation. And so, the head of the business department– professor Lee– promised that the team that raises the most money for charity (or the winning team, as you like to call it), will get an iPad pro for their efforts.

Jisung would understand if you were doing it for the iPad. Hell, even he wants one. But the reality is completely different– you just really, really need to be the best at everything. It’s your main purpose in life and when you fail, you fall into weeks long depression, mourning every single aspect that made you fail at your task and getting angry at every person in your sight. That is even scarier than your weird transe that you’re in right now, Jisung admits, and so he usually does his best to help you with your efforts, because he doesn’t like to get screamed at for multiple weeks if you come second.

That, and he also really doesn’t like to see you sad.

“Yeah, so I’m having the right intentions, aren’t I, Jisung?” you finally meet eyes with Jisung, your devoted business partner, as you smile with that kind of curve to your lips that doesn’t really meet your eye.

A shiver runs down the poor boy’s spine at that, pupils widening with terror. Standing up from your position at the table, completely ignoring Jisung’s half-eaten sandwich left at the red tray on the table, you move towards the exit of the cafeteria, expecting him to follow along. “Let’s go, Jisung. We have work to do.”

“I’m so so surprised at everyone’s interest in the charity event! Thank you so much for coming here today to discuss the details,” Ms Lee chirps from her spot at the top of the table, swinging her arms around like a Disney princess when she sings to all the animals that gathered around her in the backyard of her palace.

Your eyes scan the figures gathered around the room. You’re sitting at one of the big, rounded tables settled in the middle of the conference room, two of the same, mahogany ones to your left and right side, all filled with business students. Some of the faces are familiar to you– like your classmate’s Renjun and Jeno’s, but some of the other ones are foreign to your eyes. You doubt you’ve ever seen those people in your whole, entire life, and you were in the student council last semester, so you were pretty much friends with everyone back then. Maybe it’s the freshmen, you think, as you look at your overly-excited professor and try to listen to what she has to say.

“Only if she knew that half of these people are here for the iPad,” Jisung murmurs into your ear, making you chuckle. He’s right– almost everyone’s here for that. But not you– you could never make your interest in charity so surface-level like everyone else does. You care about much more than getting an iPad, your interests are deeper than that. You don’t need the iPad– although you wouldn’t hesitate to take it if you win, you’re not stupid, after all– you need to win and beat your longest academic rival.

You need to win against Zhong Chenle himself, the top of the business class– he owns the title mainly because his parents own one and he’s had enough time to learn about all the wonders of the business world long before the rest of the people in your class– because you need the satisfaction of being the absolute best. See, you were used to that your whole life. In high school, you were the model student. The one that was set as an example. The best student, the most praised one, the most talented one, the gifted one, even.

You may already know why all of this was more damaging to you than it was good. Getting into university– into the sea of people that were told just that while growing up– was a feeling that made you fall down from the tallest heights of talent to the very middle of it all. The shift from being the best to being mediocre was perhaps the most painful experience of your whole life, but after you managed to get your shit together– and studied your ass off, because it won’t work any other way anymore, it seems– you set your mind on being the best one again, because in your whole childhood, you didn’t know any better. And if you were raised to be the picture perfect child, it’s hard to outgrow these habits.

So if Zhong Chenle was the top of the class in most of your courses, you had to be better than him eventually. The charity event is just another part of the whole process.

“I know this is all for a good thing, but I feel like we still need to set some rules for this whole thing. The main thing is to sell something– anything you want, really– and raise the most money you can for charity. I think everyone already got that, since you’re all sitting here, but I know that the vision of the iPad can blind some of you and get you to be a little too competitive, and while I encourage you to try hard, I also want all of you to play fair. So, here’s the thing,” your professor announces, making you shift a little in your chair and whisper to Jisung to get his notepad out so he can scribble the important info down, preventing you from forgetting it.

“Rule number one. No bad mouthing the others, no anti-campagne. I want all of you to be nice to each other and play it fair, got it?”

A few of you nod, humming in agreement, when a disappointed sigh comes from somewhere behind you, a low mumble reaching your ears and making you chuckle. “I had so much dirt on Donghyuck…”

“Rule number two. I don’t want you selling alcohol, cigarettes, or pretty much anything that’s against the university rules. God forbid if you bring drugs. I won’t hesitate to call the police on you if you do,” your professor continues, earning herself another set of bored hums and nods, cut off only by a pair of your classmates sitting right next to you at the big, rounded table.

A disappointed sigh leaves Yangyang’s mouth at this one, shaking his head in disapproval. You won’t say anything, because you don’t really want your classmate to get in trouble, but the last time you were on a party where Liu Yangyang was present, you couldn’t shake off the smell of weed for weeks, so you’re pretty sure his plan was to sneak in a little something to get more money for the charity. His friend and business partner in one– Lee Donghyuck from your Economy class– grins as his hand shoots up into the air, waiting to be called to ask a question.

“Yes, Donghyuck?”

“Are condoms allowed?” he asks, the innocent grin on his face making the freshmen girls in the back of the room chuckle and hide their face behind their hands.

“Why are you asking that?��

“No reason,” he shrugs, the innocent smile not leaving his face for a second as his childish friend only giggles at the encounter.

“Please don’t sell condoms at the charity event, Donghyuck,” professor Lee pleads, her eyes already full of misery as she realizes just what she’s gotten herself into when agreeing to lead the whole event.

Another disappointed sigh leaves his lips at that, shaking his head. “That’s our whole business plan gone, then…”

Taking exactly three seconds to calm herself down, your professor takes a deep breath in as she runs her hand through her long black hair and then clasps her palms together at her waist, regaining her composure. “Back to what I was saying, we have one more rule you have to follow. You can’t lie about your product. No false advertisement, no made-up stuff to make what you’re selling be more interesting than it already is. We want this to be a serious event, so please, take all of these rules to heart and try your hardest to follow them. Got it?”

Scanning the room, waiting for each and every single one of you to nod, the gathering falls silent. “If none of you have any questions, I consider this meeting to be over.”

The room is instantly filled with the shrieking of chairs on the linoleum ground, making your hair stand up as you arch like an angry cat, hating the sound. Waiting for everyone to get out of the room, you find a pair of men sitting still opposite of you, a cocky smirk plastered on the face of your moral enemy, his friend Jaemin sitting next to him with a well rehearsed poker face. They already look like they run a company, you realize, the thought making your blood boil just at the thought of Zhong Chenle looking more professional than you do– in your baggy sweatpants and a cropped top you grabbed from the top of the pile of half-dirty clothes in your room this morning.

“Ready to get your ass kicked?” Chenle asks, grinning to himself as your eyebrows furrow and you reveal an annoyed face to him. It makes him happy to see you like this– it gives him more satisfaction than anything in his life, to be exact.

“The game’s on, Zhong.”

Walking towards your table in the cafeteria, a pair of young boys looking very engaged in their conversation lands in your rear point of vision. Eyes squinting, as if it was supposed to make you see better, you watch your best friend Jisung walk side by side with the accomplice of your moral enemy, Na Jaemin. One of them looks cool, dressed in all black, flashing a charming smile, and the other one is truly bubbly– jumping up and down, almost, as he giggles like a boy and adjusts the straps of his backpack. I won’t tell you which one’s which. Figure it out by yourself.

“We have a visitor today?” you ask as the two of them sit down at your usual table in the cafeteria, both of them smiling to themselves like two teenagers in love. The sight is an unusual one, to say the least, and you don’t know what it is about it that makes shivers down your spine. You just know that you kind of despise it.

“Yeah, Jaemin will be sitting with us today, if that’s okay,” Jisung smiles, looking at you with wide eyes full of excitement.

“Great, great,” you mumble, eyeing the boy with suspicion. Is this how he chose to execute your plan? You did tell him to be nice to Na Jaemin– you did even tell him to try to befriend him, if that was what he needed to do to get under his skin– but at the same time, you didn’t think that sitting together at lunch exactly two days after you told him to try to get some information from Jaemin was the right way to go around this.

See, you’d call it intuition. You know something’s wrong, you just don’t know what it is yet.

“So, what’s up, Jaemin?” you ask, poking the food on your table around with your fork, avoiding eye contact. You despise even sitting at the same table with one of Chenle’s friends– you feel like you’re suddenly in his circle, and that makes you gag a little into your mouth. While you need to be better at everything than this young businessman, you also need to stay away from everything that includes him– and yes, that means his friend circle as well. Who knows, Na Jaemin might even be a nice guy. You just don’t care enough to find out.

“Oh, a lot of exciting things are happening! Aren’t they, Jisung?” he smiles, kicking the clueless boy into his shin under the table in excitement, “the charity event, for example! We are preparing a lot of stuff with Chenle, and I think it’s gonna be a lot of fun. What about you two?”

Humming, you try to take the opportunity by its reached-out hands, smiling a little on the inside. “You’re doing a lot of things? What things exactly, may I ask?” you lock eyes with Jaemin, seeing his cunning smile.

“That’s a surprise, dear Y/N,” Jaemin mutters, the combination of his low voice and glimmering eyes making your stomach twist in anger and frustration. Of course he’s not that stupid– he won’t reveal what him and Chenle have planned for the event. He knows who you are. He knows how far you’re willing to go to completely destroy whatever the two of them have planned, just so you could win. And he won’t even dare to give you a single hint on his plans, because he’s intelligent and cunning.

“Is it…” you mutter under your breath, matching his competitive energy.

“Yeah,” he nods, turning to Jisung, “but maybe if you tell me first, I can share. Maybe we can brainstorm together, you know, that would be so much fun. Wouldn’t it, Jisung?” he asks your best friend, smiling sweetly at him.

You know damn well about the effect Na Jaemin has on people. He’s charming and sweet, magically alluring. He pulls everyone towards him, and he does it oh so easily. You’ve heard enough about how this man worked his magic spells on the girls in your grade, getting them on dates and then deciding he’s bored of them a few weeks later.

Now, you didn’t know that your best friend Park Jisung wasn’t immune to this effect. He was, in fact, very much not immune to it– he was just like every other girl in your class, just like all the poor freshmen girls that giggle at his stupid jokes in the cafeteria.

It was a saddening fact and an even more devastating sight to see your best friend fold under the eyes of the local charmer. You should’ve expected it, though– maybe this was the intuition you were supposed to listen to the very moment Na Jaemin showed up at your table in the cafeteria.

“I mean, I think that’s a good idea, maybe we can work together on it as well,” Jisung hums, eyes big never leaving the man as he nods to his manipulation tactics.

“See? Amazing! That’s exactly what I love to hear. So, what are you two planning?”

“Me and Y/N wanted to-”

“Jisung, shut up,” you coldly say, taking a hold of the situation and trying to save the day. Your poor best friend looks at you all lost, the furrow in his brows breaking your heart as you had to be rude to him for no reason at all– well, there is one, he just doesn’t know it yet.

“Why-”

“Why are you shutting your friend down like that? That’s not really nice of you, Y/N,” Jaemin says, locking eyes with you. The look in his orbs is knowing, your wavelength matching as he knows that you finally see right through his plan, that you know exactly what he’s trying to do– because you and Zhong Chenle are more alike than you both think, it seems. At least with your business tactics, after all.

“How about we work on our stuff alone, Na Jaemin? I don’t need Chenle’s help with anything,” you snap back, watching as the boy grins to himself and takes the red tray into his hands as he stands up from his place at your cafeteria table.

“Okay then,” he mutters, “have a nice day, you two.”

With his departure comes a loud whine from Park Jisung himself, earning himself a kick into the shin as you start your scolding session.

“What was that? Why were you so rude to him all of a sudden?”

“Jisung,” you coldly stare at him, making him silence, “I told you to befriend Na Jaemin to get out some information from him. I didn’t tell you to do the exact opposite and get exploited of all our plans instead!” you finish your little rant, breathing heavily as you notice the boy’s face clearing into understatement, smiling to himself a little in shame.

“Oh. I didn’t notice that…”

Park Jisung’s good at Math. Social interaction? Not so much… Maybe you should take things into your own hands and get some information yourself, instead of sending your most gullible friend on a mission that requires interaction with Na Jaemin…

“I still don’t understand what we are doing here. I thought you didn’t like parties!” Jisung mourns as you two step your feet inside of a big mansion (or at least that’s how the house looks in your eyes), the loud music of the event that’s going on inside making your eardrums bubble along with the beat.

“Jisung, you have so much to learn about this world…” you sigh, smiling at some of the girls you encounter on your way to the big kitchen, aiming straight for one of the red cups waiting for you on the kitchen island, all filled to the brim with various alcohol.

Turning around in your spot, two solo red cups in the palms of your hands, you offer one to your companion and grin at him. “Here, have this,” you smile, “I know you’re not a fan of vodka, but they don’t have anything else… Try not to die while I’m gone,” you note, earning yourself a confused look from the tall boy standing in front of you, listening to your commands.

“And where are you going? What’s going on-”

Sighing, you take the boy by his hand and drag him into the half-empty hall, the dim lightning making the whole encounter feel more secretive than it already was.

“Jisung, this is Zhong Chenle’s party,” you say, the sentence alone enough for the boy to instantly widen his eyes and part his lips agape in understatement, nodding at you. There’s a slight glint in his eyes that’s telling you that he doesn’t like where this is going, but you don’t really care about what he has to say right now. Your mind is set on one thing– winning, and that’s why you’re not afraid to do even the most desperate things of them all.

“Try to enjoy yourself,” you say, “but please don’t talk to Na Jaemin while we’re here, okay?”

“But Jaemin is nice-”

“Okay then, just don’t talk to him about the event, alright? They’ll use it against us if they know anything,” you mumble, downing the entirety of the red cup, scowling at the taste of your most hated alcohol. It’s like Zhong Chenle knew you were gonna appear– it’s like he wants to kill you. You wouldn’t even have to drink the poison that vodka is, but having some liquid courage in you could be useful in the crime you’re about to do right now.

“Try not to die,” Jisung resonates with the same words you’ve said to him just a few minutes prior, making you smile at him with a tense smile, hugging him goodbye before you go. Who knows, if Zhong Chenle catches you, you might not even make it out alive and see Jisung ever again. You might as well embrace your best friend for the last time.

Taking a deep breath in and out, you march up the stairs. The second floor of the house is not as crowded as the first one– the stairs are too steep to walk up if you’ve had too much to drink already, so it’s quite understandable. Looking around like a spy, you try hard to stay as natural as possible, not wanting to make anyone suspect you. Walking casually through the halls, you figure this is the best way to make everyone believe that you’re supposed to be here, that you were invited, and that you’re not just about to do a very, very bad thing.

Opening the first door to one of the rooms, you notice a king’s bed and flowery wallpaper. Closing it again, deciding that this isn’t the room you’re looking for, you continue your search on the second floor– opening the room to one of the bathrooms, and then what you presume is a guest room occupied with someone moaning loudly on the bed, making you shut the door behind you with disturbance.

Finally finding the right one– you assume so by the obnoxious Gucci hoodie sprawled on the chair right opposite of the door– you silently walk inside and close the door after you, making sure you’re alone and not watched by anyone. Trying the hardest to not make any sound, you walk through Zhong Chenle’s room and let your eyes roam across the furniture, looking for the thing you broke into his room for in the first place.

When you don’t find what you’re looking for anywhere at sight, you choose to walk over to his desk and open the first drawer. It’s full of textbooks and other notebooks, making you sigh and close it in disappointment, moving over to the one under it that surprises you with a stash of snacks and a single sock laying on the very top. Disgusted by the state of everything, you result in looking through the last drawer, wanting nothing more than to find the materials you saw Chenle write on the last meeting your charity event group had.

You needed to know what he had planned, so you could plan something bigger, better.

A stash of white paper appears in your eyes, the handwriting of none other than the owner of this house recognizable to you for various reasons (no, you never look at his exam papers over his shoulder just to make sure you did better than him. Never…), the title “charity” in a wobbly, light blue pen making your eyes light up. Bingo.

Excitement flowing through your veins, you scan over the paper and try to find any clues about the boy’s plan. The handwriting is a little hard to read, though, and so you squint your eyes, slowing down your breathing as you try to focus all of your attention to decoding the content in front of you–

–when the paper is swiftly pulled away from your grasp, making you gasp in shock and surprise. Turning your head around, you see the owner of the handwriting looking at you with a glare, making your body instinctively shoot to your feet and taking a step back.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, although he knows damn well what your previous actions were already.

“I’m- I was- I-” you stutter, your brain not allowing you to form coherent sentences.

He takes one step towards you, which leads in you taking another one back, repeating enough times for you to be pressed against the wall, shivers running down your spine either at the contact of the cold against your shoulders, or the look that Chenle gives you as he towers over you both physically and mentally, scoffing.

“Are you really that low? That desperate?” he spits, making your blood boil. You feel red in your face as the hint of his cologne makes its way up your nose, feeling both embarrassed and flustered by the whole encounter.

“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you peep, seeing the boy shake his head in disbelief, putting his hand up against the wall, close to where your head is resting.

“So what were you doing with this, then, huh?” he asks, showing you the paper in his other hand, waiting for you to answer, but not stepping away from you.

The truth is, you have no words in you to defend yourself. Suddenly, you’re left unarmed, empty and humiliated– but what’s worse, you’re left with no new information about the charity event, which means you’ve done all of this for absolutely nothing.

Seeing that you’re making no effort in answering the boy, he leans even closer to you, which makes your whole body tingle with what you presume is uncomfort, biting at your lower lip as your eyes lock with his mouth as he speaks to you. “Play fair, Y/N.”

Focusing on his plump, pink lips, you wonder if he uses a lip scrub or a lip balm– because there’s no way his lips are this luscious and beautiful, and so inviting…

“Get out of my room,” he orders, making your body unfreeze, feeling sweat drip down your back as you run out of the place, suddenly not having enough oxygen.

Maybe this wasn’t your best idea.

“Jisung, we gotta do something,” you mourn, head in your hands as you sit at the table in your room, papers scattered all around you and a half-made banner laying on the carpet in the middle of the floor.

“We are doing something right now, Y/N,” Jisung mumbles with the paintbrush in his hand, leaning over the white sheet of paper, trying his hardest to not go over the lines you’ve scribbled onto the banner just a few minutes prior, ordering him to paint in the bubble letters of your banner.

Grunting, you turn around in your office chair, looking at the boy. He doesn’t seem as stressed as you feel right now– it’s only a week until the charity event is supposed to take place and you really, really don’t want to be thinking about how badly it will go if you don’t think of something big at this exact moment. You feel defenseless. You have zero information about what Chenle’s about to do, so you can’t get prepared to do something better. Jisung didn’t manage to get any information out of Jaemin, and while you were able to find Chenle’s plans in his room, he took the paper out of your hands and cornered you against the wall before you even managed to read a single sentence.

You’re selling cupcakes. Jisung said his mum will help and chip in more baked goods, since she’s a good cook, but you doubt that cookies and pastry will help you win the first place. This sounds like something Renjun and Jeno would do– and you hate to put yourself onto their level, because they’re not the greatest when it comes to business. You doubt you’ll beat Hyuck and Yangyang’s condom stand either. There’s a lot of guys at your university that will rather go for a condom than a cupcake.

“No, Jisung, you don’t understand. Cupcakes won’t win. We won’t win. Zhong Chenle and his big head will win, and that will be absolutely fucking infuriating. I won’t let that happen,” you exclaim, huffing.

“But you don’t even know what they’re going to sell! What if it’s really bad? We still have a chance to win,” Jisung smiles at you, trying to encourage you.

Bless him. Even when seeing you so annoyed and having to deal with your snappy attitude every day, since the nerves always get the worst of you, he still tries to be your rock and help you through it all. His words might not help you win and they for sure do not help you calm down, but he’s trying– and that’s the important part.

“Chenle’s the son of the wealthiest business man in this country, Jisung. He has winning in his fucking genes,” you roll your eyes, “and that’s why I need to think of something right now or else I’ll physically combust.”

Jisung just sighs at you, not really knowing how else to help you. He’s trying his hardest– and you appreciate it, despite the fact that your actions suggest otherwise– and this is not even his battle. He’s okay with being mediocre– he’s just cursed with the burden of his friend always trying their hardest to be an overachiever. It’s not healthy, but he doesn’t feel like he can do anything about it, really.

“Maybe I can… Maybe I can tell everyone that if I win, I’ll do a giveaway with the iPad. I’m sure that will lure some people in,” you mumble, fixing your eyes onto the poster of Ross Lynch stuck on your bedroom door, lost in thought.

Jisung looks at you with squinted eyes, trying to decipher what’s going on inside of that brain of yours. The scheming look on your face doesn’t look the nicest, but he won’t tell you that in fear of being beaten up on the ground.

“That’s…”

“An amazing idea? I know, right?” you grin, looking at your friend with euphoria running through your veins.

“Y/N, I don’t think-”

“Bingo!” you yelp, eyes glimmering with joy and excitement, “We are about to give everyone who buys two cupcakes a lottery ticket and then, if we win, we randomly pick someone and give them the iPad! This is a brilliant idea!!”

No amount of effort can make you stop now. Jisung won’t even try anymore.

“I’m going to work on it right now. This is perfect!” you grin.

Jisung sighs.

He kind of wanted that iPad…

Sitting in the library, your laptop open as you try hard to focus on studying after the frantic preparations for the charity event, your eyes are stuck to the screen, starting to hurt a little from how hard you’re concentrating. The world around you is a mere blur, the background noises being no distraction to your brain as you type away on your keyboard from time to time, taking notes.

You like to study alone. You never really got the magic of studying in groups, since every time you tried it with Jisung, you two just grew distracted and didn’t know how to focus on your studies, too busy gossiping and talking about anything and everything. So to go here like this, in the evening, the university library has become your safe haven.

When suddenly, there are footsteps landing into your ear, the noise making you lose your focus for a moment when the owner of them decides to sit in the space next to you, making you swiftly look around and see who dared to pay you a visit when you’re studying.

Met with the gaze of none other than Zhong Chenle himself, you suddenly shrink in size and bashfully look away from the male. You’re not used to the feeling of embarrassment in your veins, not used to how you feel pathetic in his eyes and how you really want to disappear from the face of the earth every time you notice him registering your existence. It’s all your fault anyway, for snooping around in his room and being caught, but you’re not ready to admit that to yourself just yet, even though the reality is slowly catching up on you.

“Hi,” he greets, making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. A conversation between you and Chenle is a rare sight– you just like to jab at each other and scream curses each other’s way– and starting one with a greeting is even more unusual for the two of you. It’s like both of you lose all sense of formality whenever you’re around each other– only the hatred remains.

“Hello,” you mutter, nervously scratching your forearm. Not daring to meet his eyes, you suddenly feel like he has something above you– the reality of catching you red handed, the very moment at his party. You won’t admit it out loud, but it’s the most defeating thing you’ve ever felt in your whole entire life, and you don’t think you’ll ever be able to recover from it. Never in a thousand years did you expect to be met with the fact that Zhong Chenle is above you in something, but it came down to it, and you don’t know what to do with this information.

Your posture screams hesitance. Not knowing how to act around him, you refrain from acting at all– you don’t think you’re in the position to be rude to him anymore, for it would make you seem even more petty. His presence makes you nervous, the tingling sensation in your whole body and the heat you feel rising to your cheeks making you the most uncomfortable you’ve felt ever since you were cornered up against the wall of Chenle’s room last weekend.

“What’s up?” he asks, the casual tone of his voice confusing you even further. Taking one short look at him, you try to scan his features and somehow find out his true intentions. The boy has an inviting smile on his face– making your heartbeat quicken with a detail you choose not to pay any attention to– and his eyes are soft, opposed to the stone cold look he usually has reserved for you.

“Um… not much, ‘m just studying, I guess…” you mumble, too confused to pay attention to just how lost and puppy-like you must look right in this moment. Kicking your foot up and down under the table, a nervous fixation to ground yourself, you await his next steps.

The boy hums in acknowledgement. If he noticed your state, at least he didn’t mention it– a fact you were grateful for. Cracking your knuckles in the silence of the library, you forget how to keep up a conversation– or you just never learned how to keep up a conversation with Zhong Chenle, of all people. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, when he just takes out his stuff from his backpack and starts working on his homework.

Watching him for a while, you clear your throat and just decide to get it over with. You don’t like the quiet tension in the air, wanting it to disappear, so you just face it with a confident face (well, the most confident you can master up right now). “What are you doing here?”

Your rival looks up at you from his textbook with furrowed brows, shrugging. “Studying.”

“Yeah,” you blink, “but… why are you studying next to me?”

“Is this spot not free?” he asks, obviously teasing you with how the very well-known shiteating grin slowly starts to appear on his face.

“I- I mean it- it’s free, but-”

“Then I don’t see a reason why I shouldn’t study here,” he shrugs, momentarily pointing his look back to his textbook, driving you absolutely insane. Did he lose his mind? Was he having a fever?

“Chenle-”

“Look,” he says, looking up from the textbook again, turning to you with his full body– while also bumping into your knee with his for a second, making you jolt in a weird sense of electricity, “I know we’re not really on the best terms, but I think I’m done with being petty and acting like a child. Seeing that we’re kind of similar, in a way, I think we could even make good friends, so that’s what I’m trying to do here,” he says, smiling at you with that friendly expression he only reserves for his closest friends, making you feel light-headed. Are you having a fever?

“I- I don’t think I understand,” you mutter out, your expression lost. What was going on? Why did your rival suddenly want to be friends with you? After you searched through his room at one of his parties? You felt like you were having a weird dream.

“Let’s just… focus on our own projects for the charity event and forget about the rivalry. What do you say?” he asks, the glint in his eyes taking you off-guard.

What does one even say to that? You’ve spent your whole university years hating this boy, all for being too good at things you always wanted to be exceptional at. The rivalry made you so crazy you didn’t even recognise yourself anymore in the actions you were taking, and while it all felt worth it at the time, to see Chenle himself not even taking it that seriously made you feel even more embarrassed. Was this all just a one-sided battle?

Blinking a few times, you notice the boy out-stretching his hand for you to grip, the handshake a silent seal of the war between the two of you ending. “Friends?”

Gasping for air, you hesitantly reach for his hand, too lost in your own brain and thought spirals to even register what was going on around you. The contact of his skin on your burned, but you shook it nonetheless. “I- I wouldn’t say friends, exactly…”

“Acquaintances on good terms, then, got it,” he grins, seeing your empty eyes and the mess in your brain at the very moment. Suddenly, you feel a hand ruffle your hair, making you jump up in shock. “I’m sure you’ll do great, Y/N,” he grins, making you turn back to your homework and– although to no use– try to focus on the assignment again.

Feeling heat rising to your cheeks and your hands shake with nerves, the rest of the afternoon comes by like a blur.

Mixing the batter in one of the big bowls Jisung’s mum provided you with in their spacious kitchen, you are too lost in thought to even sing along to your favorite baking playlist your best friend put on to make the atmosphere lighter, despite the tension of the upcoming charity event rising. This doesn’t go unnoticed by the boy, when he cautiously approaches the matter.

“What’s gotten you so weird?” he asks, opening the oven and taking out the cupcake tray that’s been sitting in there, prepared for your baking session, since yesterday evening.

“I’m not weird,” you mumble, but don’t even meet his eyes. That’s an instant hint.

“Y/N, you’re not even singing along to One Direction right now, of course something’s up,” he says to prove his point, seeing you sigh and look up to the ceiling for a moment, seemingly debating on finally talking about what’s bugging you the most these days.

“Chenle approached me the other day… to make amends? I guess?” you mumble, shrugging.

Your best friend takes the information in, analyzing what you just uttered out of your lips. Are you sure you weren't dreaming? He wants to ask you if you’re sure it wasn’t all an image of your imagination, but he choses against it as he steps closer to you, scanning your face for any signs of mania.

“He did that after catching you looking through his stuff?” he clarifies, seeing you nod.

“That’s strange.”

“Isn’t it?” you ask, still not believing what you saw at the library the other day.

Jisung hums, furrowing his eyebrows to get his brain cells to work better, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Well, maybe he was sincere, however strange it might sound… He realized the little war you two have is childish and wanted both of you to have fun,” he shrugs, mirroring the exact words Chenle said at the library. Is this really so easy? Is this the final conclusion? The end of everything? You couldn’t just believe that.

“I don’t know…” you hum, moving to drape the cupcake batter into the tray, ready to bake it for tomorrow's event. Jisung helps you with the cleaning-up process, not wanting the burnt batter stuck on the tray to make the whole house smell like forest fire, wiping the excess away with tissues. After you’re done, he plops the tray into the oven and sets a timer for 15 minutes, resting his tall figure against the kitchen counter.

“Maybe you can… quit with the iPad giveaway thing? I mean, now that you don’t have to win, you can forget about that part. I think it’s kind of against the rules as well, since it’s a hint of false advertising? You’re supposed to win by selling the goods, and not by bribing them with an iPad, so I don’t think professor Lee will like that,” he mutters hesitantly, seeing your mouth open agape, shaking your head in disapproval.

“Absolutely not. Just because Zhong Chenle hit his head or something, I won’t back away from this fight,” you sternly say.

“Y/N, I promise you it’s not a good idea. You’re just going to get in trouble-”

“I’m not! It’s totally legal, and if I really win, I’m ready to give the iPad away, if that’s what I’m gonna have to do, Jisung.”

A heavy sigh escapes his lips at this, shaking his head. Yeah, maybe he is petty– maybe he just wants the iPad for himself, but at the same time, what he said was right. This wasn’t a fair game and he doesn’t think it will get approved by your business professor, no matter how hard you try to back it up.

“Life would be so much easier if you constantly didn’t try to impress Zhong Chenle,” Jisung mutters, making blood boil in you, anger felt at the tips of your fingertips.

“Take that back. I am not trying to impress him,” you coldly say, snapping.

“Yeah, sure,” Jisung rolls his eyes, “every single time, it’s all I have to be better than Chenle, I have to win against Chenle, I have to beat him in this and this and that… to me, it just seems like you want him to be impressed with your abilities, because you like him.”

Gasping, you catch the edge of the kitchen counter to steady yourself. “I do not like him. I absolutely despise him, that is,” you grit your teeth, trying to convince your best friend…. and maybe yourself as well.

Jisung just hums, mocking you. The look on your face is enough of a confirmation to him, he doesn’t have to fight you anymore. Besides, the looks you give the boy are surely not you trying to get his business strategy. Not in the gym class, when your rival is a little sweaty and overly-enthusiastic about basketball, at least.

“I still think you should stop with the iPad thing, though,” he says, crouching down to the oven to check up on the cupcakes.

Angrily stomping, you reach towards your backpack on the ground, taking out your papers for the charity event so you can quickly calculate how many batches of the batter you’re going to have to make to fill your goal. Looking through the stack of papers, seeing worksheets from English class and old exam papers that you should’ve thrown out long ago, you disagree with your partner. “Absolutely not, I think-” you stop in your tracks, looking through the papers, still not finding the ones you’re looking for.

Leaning back towards your bag, you stumble through it, still not finding your charity event plans and documents. Stress rising inside of you, knowing too well that you always have the papers with you and there’s no way you left it at home, the reality dawns on you, making you scream in despair. Of course Zhong Chenle’s sudden amends were a little weird.

“That motherfucker stole my charity event plans while I was too busy freaking out over his charming smile!” you yelp out.

Jisung snickers at the state of you. He called it.

When you’re 6 years old, you go to school for the first time. You manage to make every single teacher in your elementary school gasp in amazement as you tell them that you already know how to read and that you don’t need help with signing your textbooks– you know how to write your name as well. As you grow, you only get more intellectual; being put into special level classes, being told you were the best pupil out of the whole school, being constantly praised and made to believe that you are, simply put, much better than everyone else your age.

When you’re 19 years old, you get to university. The gifted child in you starts slowly dying out with the pressure of assignments and the realization that maybe, your whole life, you’ve been lied to and you’re not as extraordinary as everyone told you you were. At 19, you meet Zhong Chenle– the model student, the social butterfly, the teacher’s pet– and suddenly, he’s your enemy. You promise yourself to always be better than him. That itself was your only goal.

When you’re almost 20, standing in the enormous gym of your university, looking over at Zhong Chenle’s stand with fast food and the giveaway tickets for a brand new iPad being given with every purchase above 5 dollars, the flood of people gladly giving money to the man dressed in a neat black suit, looking like the businessman he, at heart, truly is, you finally admit that you’re losing.

The cupcakes stay abandoned at the trays, no one paying attention to all the effort you and Jisung gave into the charity event. If you really think about it, it’s kind of unfair– you did play fair, despite your previous antics, and you did everything in your power to raise as much money as you could. Looking at the lonely pastries, you feel defeated.

“Want one?” you ask Jisung, pointing towards the ones covered with pink icing– the exact ones he wanted to eat yesterday evening instead of dinner, after several hours of baking– seeing the boy furrow his brows in confusion.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to eat them until the event ends,” he says, watching over your dull look.

“Yeah, well,” you shrug, “it’s over for us anyways, so I don’t really care anymore,” you proclaim as you take a bite of the cupcake, not even paying attention to the icing smearing all over your face.

The boy next to you only pouts at your argument, not used to seeing you so discouraged. He can’t say you’re not right– hell, he does have eyes and common sense, he can see the row of people waiting for Zhong Chenle’s fries from McDonald’s and pizza from Papa John’s– but still, he expected more determination from your ambitious persona.

“Y/N,” he whines, “it’s okay. Maybe we can still win,” he lies through his teeth, trying to cheer you up.

“Jisung, look at Chenle’s stand.”

“I am looking.”

“Do you still think we can win?”

“No,” he says, “but I thought my white lies could make you feel better.”

“Well, they can’t.”

“Okay, just eat your cupcake, will you?” he mutters, sighing at the state of you. Some freshmen girls come by to buy a cute little cupcake, but the few dollars in your basket right now won’t make any difference to the money moves your moral enemy is making.

“I tried so hard, Jisung,” you mourn with a full mouth, letting your emotions run free, “I tried so hard, and I still got nothing. This is so embarrassing, you can’t even imagine. I was supposed to be the winner, I was supposed to have the masterplan,” you complain, seeing Jisung sympathetically, although a little absent-mindedly, nod at all your points and arguments.

“It’s okay, Y/N, you can’t win all the time. It’s not embarrassing,” he encourages you, slyly taking a cupcake off the tray and biting into it, still acting cautious in case you decide to change your mind and revoke your approval to eat your goods.

“It is! You can’t imagine how defeating this feels.”

“I can see it on your face, sweetheart. Maybe if you stop frowning…?” Jisung mumbles, making you glare at him momentarily, his insides loosening up a little from the image of taking your mind off the issue at hand for just a few seconds.

“We have the last few minutes until the charity event is over!” you hear the voice of professor Lee through a megaphone she borrowed from the drama club, making you grunt. “Everyone, the sale is over at 2pm! Count your money after and bring it to me.”

Sighing, you don’t even try to sell any last-minute cupcakes anymore, opting to gather the money you’ve raised today. Quickly counting it and finding a scrap of paper to scribble down the amount (which is a sad, poor 20 dollars, if any of you were interested), you put the money into a zip-lock back and walk over to your professor, handing it in.

“Why did you rush it? Maybe someone would want-”

“Jisung, just… leave it. I’m over this already,” you say, sitting back next to your best friend, seeing him pout– mirroring your saddened expression– suddenly making you feel bad for impacting the mood of your business partner so much. “But hey, we had fun, didn’t we?”

Jisung looks at you in disbelief, breaking out into a grin at your poor attempt at easing the mood. “I guess we did, yeah,” he notes, “I know I did, although my stomach kind of still hurts from eating all the left-over icing from yesterday.”

“I told you there were raw eggs in that, what if you get salmonella, for fuck’s sake?” you sigh, shaking your head at him.

“It’s not salmonella! I just don’t handle sugar well-”

Your conversation is ended soon with a noise of a gong, signaling that the charity fundraiser was now over and every single stand should stop selling their goods. Looking around, you see the gym slowly empty out, leaving behind only the business majors that participated in the event, all counting up their raised money.

“Dude, I think we got around 150,” you hear Yangyang gasp from the stand next to yours, making you sigh with the information that even the condom stand raised more money than your cupcakes that were baked with care and love (and maybe a little bit of spite for Zhong Chenle. You can’t see it on them, though, so you guess it’s fine).

The next events come by in a whim– everyone hands in the money they raised at the fundraiser, one by one, gossipping about how much they’ve earned and how good they’re doing. Throughout the whole process, your eyes are glued to one person in particular– the one you were competing with in the first place.

Zhong Chenle moves through the place like he owns it, like it’s his own prestigious branch of his successful business, dressed formally, now shrugging off the suit jacket, leaving him only in a stylish white button-down and black pants, leaving you gasping for air. Grinning to his companion, Na Jaemin– although dressed similarly, but not leaving the same impact– you can only imagine how much he’s shit talking you right now, laughing maniacally at the fact that he stole your plan and won with it, taking all the credit and being the best yet again. It makes your stomach turn and twist in angry knots, feeling stupid each time your eyes flash down to his toned forearms when he moves away the things from the little stand, cleaning it up; for if you would’ve paid less attention to the man with the name Zhong Chenle, you wouldn’t feel half as defeated as you do right now.

“Stop ogling him,” Jisung teases, making you grunt.

“I’m trying to kill him with my glare.”

“I think you confused it with heart-eyes, sweetie-”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up right now, I’ll choke you with your favorite pink cupcakes,” you smile at him innocently, making the boy shut up instantly, fearing for his own life.

Professor Lee triumphally stands in the middle of the gym, looking around at everyone. The proud smile on her face tells you that the other stands most likely made more money than yours did, earning the charity a solid amount of money that your university doesn’t have to be ashamed of. The only thing is that you are ashamed– of yourself, though. You thought you’d do better than you did, but you guess you have to come to terms with the fact that you can’t always be the winner.

“Everyone,” the professor starts her speech, “I am really grateful for every single one of you standing here right now. I want to thank you all for your effort, and I also will be grading everyone with an A for this event, because I can see that all of you truly worked your hardest. Now, though, is the time to announce the team that earned the most money, and therefore, won the little competition I made to motivate you.”

Looking around at everyone, you suddenly feel like you’re watching Eurovision, waiting for the points to be added up until 2am, slowly losing your motivation to keep watching further. Professor Lee smiles before she turns to the stand expected to win, making everyone’s suspicions correct.

“The team that made the most money, ladies and gentlemen, is Zhong Chenle and Na Jaemin,” she proclaims, making the boys scream in joy, jumping up and down in their places as they rush into a hug. They look like their hard work has paid off after 20 years of effort, however, the only work they did was steal your plan and buy some fast food… pathetic, really. Seeing the wide grin on Chenle’s face, you find yourself rolling your eyes, especially when your make eye contact with him and quickly force yourself to look away. “However,” the professor continues, making the boy’s faces fall.

“I was met with the information that you two violated the rules,” she says, making Chenle furrow his brows in confusion.

“H-how-”

“You worked with false advertisement, which, as I already said, was against the rules of the whole event.”

“How was this false advertisement?” he asks, getting all defensive. Something inside of you lights up at the sight of him all frustrated, but you wouldn’t say it out loud, for you think Jisung would accuse you of being a sadist.

“What you were supposed to be selling was the food, although I don’t agree with it being store-bought either, but I’m willing to ignore that fact,” she explains, “but what you did instead was sell tickets to your iPad giveaway, which was not in the business plan you’ve given me a few days ago.”

“But professor Lee, it’s not like that-”

“Therefore, you will not get the iPad, and the price goes to the second place, which is Lee Yangyang and Lee Donghyuck. Congratulations, boys.”

The duo on your right fist bumps and screams at the top of their lungs, making everyone in the university gym scowl with the sharp pain in their ears. Now, this wasn’t exactly the outcome you were expecting… you can’t say you hate it, though. Turning to Jisung, ignoring the yells of despair uttered out of the mouth of Zhong Chenle, complaining that condoms weren’t technically allowed as the product for sale, you hug your best friend with stars in your eyes, tugging him closer. He was right with his previous arguments, after all. Not that you'd admit it to him, since you're still super petty, but you're glad you didn't proceed with your innitial plan nonetheless.

“Woah, there,” Jisung gasps as he hugs you back, “we didn’t win, Y/N, though…”

“I know,” you hum into his chest, satisfied.

“So…”

“I’m just happy Zhong Chenle isn’t the winner,” you grin, pulling away from the boy, ready to celebrate the win of the two dumbasses in your business class. You never thought you’d see the day when Chenle is beaten by a duo that rarely attends the class, but you’re more happy than ever to let them indulge in the joy right now.

Hearing someone clear their throat behind you, you turn around. Surprised to see Chenle there, your smile freezes at your face, making you look like you’ve just been paralysed, earning yourself a kick into your shin from Park Jisung sitting at the chair next to you before he excuses himself and leaves for a bathroom break.

“Hi,” you greet as you see Chenle sheepishly look at you, his hands in the pockets of his pants.

“You got me there, Y/N,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief, “I didn’t take you for such a mastermind,” he adds, making you confused.

“What?”

“The plan in your bag… you had it there because you knew I’d take it, didn’t you? You were trying to make me lose all along,” Chenle adds, finally bringing clarity into your brain. He’s not right– you were just too stupid to realise the consequences of your future actions in that moment, but now you’re glad the universe worked in your favor and you were too gullible to trust your moral enemy in the moment. You may have been weak back then, but now, you’re the winner out of the two of you– and you can’t say it doesn’t make your ego rise to enormous heights.

“Y-yeah…” you hum, not realizing your expression gives it away almost immediately, bringing Chenle the last hint of confidence he needs before he takes his next step towards you. The knowledge that you didn’t plan to sabotage him, and that this was self-sabotage all along, makes the boy content– you may hate him, but not as much. The fact that you were so out of your mind to let him take your plans right under your nose must be a hint of something.

“So…” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck, “what I said back then in the library still stands, though,” he says, chuckling. “I know I kind of lied back then, but now I mean it. I don’t… I don’t really want us to fight anymore, and I actually think the two of us would make a great pair- I mean, friends, so…”

Blinking at him a few times, feeling heat rising to your cheeks, you feel like you’re having another fever dream. There’s no competition right now, no business strategies, no exams to be taken. So… the intentions behind his words must be truthful, right?

“Um, I…” you start, but end up gasping like fish on sand, at a loss for words. Flickering your eyes from his to your feet and back to his shy smile, you feel like your brain is overheating. Curse hormones, really… it can’t be anything other than that. There’s no other reason why your brain keeps contemplating if this is him asking you out, and no reason why you so desperately want that accusation to be true.

“We can hang out after this, if you want,” Chenle suggests, rocking a little in his place, “with- with Jaemin and Jisung as well, since they seemed to get along…” he adds, the hint of blush creeping onto his cheeks making you want to scream into your pillow with overwhelmingness.

“That would be great,” you say, seeing the boy nod at your words, relief visibly flashing behind his eyes.

“Okay, great,” he smiles, “I’ll just get my things and I’ll find you later?”

“Sounds good,” you nod, your brain turning into a foggy mess.

Watching him turn on his heels and walk towards Jaemin standing on the other side of the gym, grinning at his friend with a suggestive wiggle to his eyebrows, you zone out. Is this your reality? Did you shift into another universe where the two of you don’t want to kill each other? How did you even move on from those emotions?

“You okay?” Jisung suddenly emerges from behind you, feeling shocked at the sight of you completely unfocused and still in your movements.

“Mhmm,” you peep, taking deep breaths.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod, turning to your friend. “Do you wanna hang out with Jaemin later?”

You meet Zhong Chenle at 19, hating everything about him with burning passion, despising the way he always made you feel challenged and on your toes. He shakes with your word, turning you into a competitive mess, always trying your best to be better than him at everything, just so you could see the defeated look on his face and get acknowledgement.

When you’re almost 20, you realize that a hint of what you always wanted was acknowledgement from Zhong Chenle.

It might not solve all your problems, but maybe turning less competitive is a start.

#nct #nct dream #chenle #zhong chenle #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #chenle x reader #chenle fluff #chenle scenario #chenle fic #chenle oneshot #chenle fanfic #chenle drabble #nct dream fluff #nct fluff #nct dream scenario #nct dream fic #nct fic

594 notes · View notes

mermaidxatxheart · 1 year

Text

Ribbed*

You guys, I am feral for this man. And you can thank @musings-of-a-rose for this story.

Pairing: Benny Miller x Reader

Word Count: 2117

Warnings: smut. unprotected sex. Garrett Hedlund, who needs a warning all on his own.

Master List

The paper fan swings back and forth in your hand lazily. It doesn’t do much to dispel the stifling heat in your apartment, or the heat radiating from your body. But mentally, you have to be doing something. Stop drinking would probably help, but why would you do something stupid like that?

Benny Miller, your brother’s best friend is propped next to you on your couch, working on his 8th jack and coke. You have him beat by about three and a half drinks.

The air conditioning is currently out in your apartment, going on the second week. You’ve put in several requests, but they’ve all gone unanswered. So, you asked your brother’s best friend to try and figure it out. But it stumped him, so the both of you resorted to drinking. Why? Dunno, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. You drag an ice cube across your chest, not caring how the quickly melting liquid seeps into your thread-bare tank top.

Benny lifts his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face and your eyes catch on his abdomen. Muscles on muscles. He’s so ripped, even his sides have washboard abs. Okay, maybe you’re drunk, but god damn, you can’t help but stare. Beautiful mother fucker. You’d love to smack the good looks right off his fucking face.

You don’t quite manage to smother the laugh that escapes and he looks at you.

“What?” He asks, his own lips twitching up into a grin, even though he doesn’t know why.

“Benny, what the fuck?” You gesture and he looks down at himself.

“What?” He repeats. He drops his shirt and picks his hat up off his head. He scratches his fingers through his soft hair before tucking the hat back securely backwards on his head once more. The move entrances you, turning you on for some unknown reason. Mysterious kink. Why is the hat a thing?

“Nothing.” You mumble, downing a big gulp of your drink. You’re gonna need a refill in a moment.

“Didn’t seem like nothing.” He challenges.

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t wanna say it.” You shake your head, the fan fanning a little faster now as if you can wave the words out of your brain. But they repeat on a loop and you know if he pushes you, you’ll come right out and say it. And that would be embarrassing.

He grabs your wrist, stopping the fan and making you look at him. His eyebrows arch up in the middle end, giving him the softest puppy dog look and you’re melting. “Tell me?” He says, and you know it’s a fucking ploy. You’ve seen that look on him when he’s flirting with girls at the bars, but you never once thought it would work on you. Lord, were you wrong.

“Fuck.” You exhale roughly. “Fine. I was just thinking that you’re ribbed for her pleasure.” You rush and he stares at you for a long minute.

He sits back and you think maybe he’s gonna leave, or make fun of you. Either option isn’t ideal. What you don’t expect is him to sit forward and peel off his sweaty shirt, revealing his taut, rippling muscles in all their glory. “Okay.” He says, adjusting himself on the couch and you’re staring at him.

“What?”

“Ribbed for your pleasure.” He says, patting his abs. “Come on.” The thin gold chain around his neck glints in the dim light, distracting you for just a second.

“You can’t be serious.”

“You’re the one who said it, sweetheart. You think about riding me a lot?”

“That’s not-“ you stammer.

“Not what?” He prompts.

“The point.” You finish lamely and his grin widens.

“You afraid?” He challenges. You shake your head. “I won’t let you fall. Come on.” He repeats. “I know you’re going through a dry spell. I am, too.”

Fuck. Are you really going to do this? Could you even orgasm from doing something like this? Thigh riding has never really been your thing. But maybe…

You stand up from the couch and he grins.

“That’s my girl.” He says proudly and your knees get weak. You’re such a slut for praise and he seems to know it. You move to straddle his abs but he stops you by holding up one of his long fingers. “These need to come off, baby.” He says, slipping said finger up the closest leg of your cotton shorts.

Your heart is hammering in your chest as you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your shorts and sliding them down your thighs slowly. He watches like a hawk and you feel the temperature in the room rising quickly.

“Pretty girl.” He praises softly and you’re steadily getting slick between your thighs. He takes your hands and guides you closer. “Knee here.” He cups the back of your knee and you jerk, not realizing how much it tickles. He grins.

“Sorry.” You mumble but he just shakes his head.

“Tickle spot noted.” He guides your knees, without touching them, to either side of his waist. You can feel him under you, all solid and warm.

Fuck.

He guides your hands to his broad shoulders, letting you lean forward over him. “Use me.” He says softly. “Let me be your leverage.” His big hands slide down your thighs, squeezing the flesh there and you rock forward slowly, cautiously. He hums approvingly and you squeeze your eyes shut against the sight of him under you. Your brother’s best friend, the guy who’s supposed to be off limits.

His hands blaze a burning trail up your thighs, over your hips, under the back of your shirt where he unclasps your bra with practiced ease. You feel the release of your breasts and it triggers something primal in you. You rock a little more purposefully now. He pulls the bra straps off your shoulders, freeing it from under your shirt. He presses the lacy fabric to his nose for a second and hums before tossing it over the back of your couch. His blue eyes stay trained on your face as he pulls on your hair tie, freeing your hair so it spills down around your shoulders.

“That’s it.” He mumbles, brushing some back behind your ear. “So fucking pretty.” His thumb strokes along the corner of your mouth and your lips separate, breathing heavily. He slips his thumb inside and you wrap your lips around it, sucking and rubbing it with your tongue, lost in delirium as you grind on his stomach. His free hand, that isn’t in your mouth, slides up the front of your shirt, cupping your breast. He brushes over your sensitive nipple, teasing it into a point, drawing a desperate moan from you.

“Oh fuck.” He exhales, watching you. He guides you forward, arching your back slightly and you hit a whole different angle on your clit. You whimper, grinding faster, chasing your pleasure. “Yeah, sweetheart. Come on.” He urges. He pulls his thumb out of your mouth and tugs your shirt over your head, tossing it with your bra.

He guides you up higher, getting you better purchase, and also allowing him to mouth at your nipples. His hands squeeze your hips,your ass, urging you faster. The friction is just right, his hot mouth and tongue are perfect on your nipples and you’re about to cum. Your rhythm falters and your body locks up as an orgasm floods your system. You gasp out his name, unable to move as it grips you.

He kisses up your chest, sliding you down to his thighs and supporting you. “Look what a mess you’ve made. So pretty when you cum.” He praises, touching the slick covering his abs. “Such a good fucking girl.” He licks it off his fingers, watching you.

You hold his gaze for a second before pulling his hand away and kissing him deeply. Tongue and teeth and lips clashing as you knock his hat off his head. Your fingers curl into his silky hair, pulling on it as you kiss him with a fierce desperation. He moans, rocking his hips up against yours.

In one swift motion, he stands up and flips you over onto your back on the couch. “Later, I’m gonna eat you until you can’t fucking stand. But right now, I’m so goddamn hard it hurts.” He mutters, shoving down his jeans. His cock is rising up to meet you and you reach for it, mesmerized by the thick vein spiraling up to the tip. He grabs your hand, stopping you. He strokes it once and kneels between your thighs.

He pauses, the crown resting at your entrance. “Can I?” He asks softly and you nod, banding your legs around his hips.

“I’m gonna cry if you don’t.” You promise. He pushes toward and your head falls back as he enters you. The stretch. Oh fuck, oh fuck.

You whimper, holding onto his straining biceps. He’s struggling to go slow so he doesn’t hurt you, you can tell that much. His arms are shaking, his eyes are slightly unfocused on your face. His hair, no longer trapped by his old ball cap, is hanging in his pretty face. The gold chain is hanging down, swinging gently as he slides in slowly.

“Trying not to-“ he mutters and you roll your hips, begging him to fill you.

“Gimme.” You plead, brushing his hair back. “Gimme. I can take it.” You promise.

He hesitates for a long second before thrusting in completely. You arch off the couch, mouth falling open as you cum instantly around him. Fuck, he feels so amazing inside you, so thick, so full, so deep. A throaty whine escapes you but that’s nothing compared to the feral growl he releases. Your fluttering walls are clinging to his every inch, stroking and kissing along his shaft.

“Baby,” he groans, shifting his arms. You wrap your thighs around him, urging him on. He pulls out and thrusts back in, picking up speed and depth as he pounds into you. Your name is a ghost on his pretty lips as he falls into you. He drops to his elbows, nearly all his weight on you now.

“Benny,” you moan in his ear and he fucks you faster. You roll your hips, pulling on his shaft and grinding him against your clit. Whimpers fall from your lips as you wind your arms around his broad shoulders. “Harder.” You beg and he looks down at you, his pupils blown wide, needy. His hand grips your thigh, holding you in place as he starts to rut inside you, his thrusts becoming shorter and harder as he reaches deeper into your velvety tightness.

“So good.” He moans in your ear. “So fucking good, baby.” He praises, burying his face in your neck. The chain drapes against your throat, cool in the humidity of the room. You flex your wall around him, urging him deeper.

Your third orgasm is fast approaching, it’s going to hit you like a wall, you can feel it. He’s fucking you so good. He bites along your neck, finding the perfect spot and you practically levitate into his chest as you cum again. You’re so fucking wet it’s dripping down your ass. Your body locks up around his as you cum, vision dimming, legs shaking, whimpers and gasps escaping.

“Oh fuck, baby girl. That’s it. Cum on my cock.” He praises, pressing you tight into the couch. “Gripping me so good.” He moans, fucking into you faster. “Gimme one more. I’m so close. Want you to cum again.” He pleads. “Wanna feel you cum on me again.” He kisses up your neck, making his way to your lips as he pounds you stupid into your couch.

Your whimpers are growing in volume, you’re so sensitive now, so close. He never really gave you a chance to come down. He kisses you desperately, messily. Your nails dig into his back and he growls possessively.

“Please, please.” He whispers and you lift your hips to meet his thrusts. “Where? Baby, where can I cum?” He rushes, his breath skating across your cheek.

“I-inside.” You mumble.

He reaches between your bodies and strums your clit rapidly. You cry out, cumming once more and gripping his shaft so tightly he can barely move. He thrusts in deep and unleashes a torrent of cum, burying his face in your neck. You can feel him sucking a mark, but you’re too fucked out to care. He finishes pumping inside you, rocking slightly before stilling. He looks down at you softly, brushing your hair back. He kisses you softly, his lips tender against yours now.

Now what?

@everythingisoverrated @musings-of-a-rose

#benny miller #benny miller fanfiction #benny miller x female reader #benny miller x you #reader fic #female reader #reader insert #x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier au #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #one shot #mermaidxatxheart-writes

203 notes · View notes

thebubblesareevil · 2 years

Text

Blame my brother

So we were talking about another big brother danny idea I had and we both have adhd so he started talking about smallville for some reason and my brain blurred the 2 and I’m not saying he’s Clark’s big brother no, I’m saying suspicious farm hand may or may not be kryptonian, hear me out

So Danny gets a full ride to met U and while vlad has (forcibly) mellowed out over the years and is willing to pay for everything Danny wants to pay for his own supplies so he gets a job at the Kent farm on his days when he has no classes now in this au Pa Kent had his heart attack earlier and that’s why they are willing to risk hiring a farmhand. Now at first everyone is skeptical but Danny proves to be capable but ordinary, until clark speeds home one day and catches Danny lifting the tractor with one hand. He speeds away before Danny sees him but tells his parents that he thinks Danny is like him they are a bit unsure because Danny didn’t come in the meteor shower but they decide to keep an eye on him and Clark notices Danny using various powers that Clark does not have and Clark just trying to walk through walls because Danny did it so maybe I just haven’t gotten that power yet.

Now as hilarious as it would be to imagine Clark sitting in his room trying desperately to turn invisible here’s the real kicker there is a maniacal evil billionaire named Lionel living down the road and we all know how Danny deals with evil billionaires, plus we have an impressionable lex realizing something is haunting the castle but it not doing any harm… to him. And if every Friday night after a visit from his day Lex pulls up the security feed with a bowl of popcorn as an unknown entity is tormenting his father, well that his business not yours.

#danny phantom #clark kent #dc x dp #lex luthor #lionel luthor #smallville #shenanigans #kent family #just for fun

843 notes · View notes

respectthepetty · 3 months

Note

Hello hello! I finally caught up on DFF a few days ago and have been reading a bunch of meta ever since, but there are some things I can’t follow. Maybe you can help me?

First off, we keep talking about there being a Final Girl, but why is everyone so sure that there will be one? I could see more people surviving or the story going in a different direction entirely. Where does this conviction come from?

Then, I’m on board with the idea of hallucinations, but one thing that always bothers me is the question of how you could make sure that they all hallucinate the very same thing? I don’t know how hallucination-inducing drugs work, but that seems kind of weird to me.

Also, who is Tan and who is Perth again? This is such a dumb question, but I’m terrible with names and faces, and I know most of the characters now, but I keep mixing up these two.

Thank you so much for your time!

Anon, let me answer your last question first:

This is Mio who plays Tan in the series. Tan is part of the friend group but came along after Non disappeared.

This is Perth but it is unknown who he is playing in the series. He was only in the background of this scene in the dark jacket with the grey shirt.

As for the other questions, unfortunately, I cannot help you because unlike the rest of these perfectly normal people watching Dead Friend Forever, I'm crazy.

And because I'm crazy, I do NOT care about "reasoning" when it comes to my wack-a-doodle-doo theories. Therefore, White will be the Final Gay simply because I want him to be, and because none of these other motherf*ckers deserve to live.

Yeah, Fluke hasn't actively done anything, but he knew all of this was happening and turned a blind eye, so if Por is dead, why not just kill all of them? Well, expect for the actual killers, Tan and Phi, and the Final Gay White.

Por's death could have just been an accident, and everyone else will get out of this alive, but . . . I don't want it. I want Fluke to shoot Top, Tee to wrestle the gun away from Fluke only for it to go off and kill Fluke, White to kill Tee and run off scared, Tan to "die" because of an asthma attack (but he won't be dead), which will leave Jin and Phi as the only survivors, only for Jin to be stabbed by Phi right before White shows up with help.

Do you feel the crazy? Do you see what I was saying about myself? You cannot ask me logical questions because I am not using deductive skills. I'm operating off of vibes and vibes alone, which is why I felt Phi was sus in episode one. It's also why I don't like Jin. It's a vibe.

Which brings me to your drugs question - The vibes are off!

I think that Non is still alive and running around scaring them all, so not everything is because of the drugs, but if the energy isn't right, if the mood isn't chill, if the vibe isn't good, the drugs are going to hit different. The figurative trip will be bad. So if the literal trip involves the boys talking about Non and seeing videos of Non while they run through the woods for their lives, whatever drugs are in their system aren't going to be happy in a body with that amount of stress, and their brain will focus on Non and the masked killer. In fact, a common side effect of most party drugs is paranoia.

Hell, even some known prescriptions for depression and anxiety can cause these side effects.

Then again, I just do drugs. I don't know the actual science behind them, but I do know if the vibes ain't right, you're not gonna have a good night.

And these boys seem to be having a really shitty night.

But also, the boys haven't all seen the same thing. Fluke saw Por's eyes bleeding and attacking him. White saw a rash on his skin. Jin saw Mr. Keng. Top saw the masked killer trying to axe him (I think part of this was real) and thought he saw a masked killer in the road, so he scared Tee going on about it. Top also might be having a reaction to it which is why he was seizing.

PSA: Test your drugs, kids. Even Amazon, which I think is the devil, sells drug testing kits.

In case you have no idea what this image is about, the joint in her hand is laced with cocaine and was probably one of the reasons her ass was going through endless time loops, so don't do coke. Or things laced with it. Unless you wanna go into other dimensions and DIE every single time. Okay? M'kay!

So to wrap up my special brand of crazy:

White will be the Final Gay because like the Backstreet Boys, "I want it that way."

Everyone deserves to die because Phi is a cop's kid, and if the cops are good for anything, it's covering up the truth, so let this work in our favor for once.

Drugs be drugging, and sometimes people will think of the boy they tried to kill when under the influence, but it's a toss up. Who can predict what a person will see? So, like, don't betray people and you won't hallucinate being stalked by your own guilt *cough* Judas *cough*

Oh, and always test your drugs.

I hope this helped you, but it probably didn't. Either way, I'll see you in the tags in a few hours after Non finally loses his shit.

Slay, Non, slay!

#dead friend forever #dead friend forever the series #I wrote what I wrote #I have theories for days #but it's all based on vibes

34 notes · View notes

creation-key · 11 months

Text

Drunken Calls

Part 2

Synopsis: accidentally confessing while laughing

Warnings: drinking mentioned, barely any cussing, mostly pure fluff/ maybe angst?

a/n: I don’t have any original ideas, that i want share 😏, so i have stolen this prompt from @mangocherri , thank you love for the inspo! And if I completely butchered it and you want me to take this down, I so will, don’t even worry about it. enjoy, we’ll at least try to 🥸

It’s Saturday night? morning? you don’t even know at this point anymore. Your best friend Sierra took you out that night to celebrate your doctorate’s degree in Psychology.

You’re not much of a party girl on your own, but when with the right people, you never want to sleep. And that is exactly what you’re experiencing in the present, only now, you’re sipping on some fruit drink, the taste of alcohol no longer prevalent because of how much you’ve consumed that night already.

You’ve all gathered at your house for the after party, you called it, which was really your smart sober part of your brain, long gone now, trying to keep everyone from driving home. With the night still young , it’s 2 am, you’re talking up a storm, just really spilling the beans on every secret you’ve ever had, including your crush on your sister’s boyfriend.

Everyone having already sobered up and drinking water gasp, granted it’s only 4 people, including yourself, but the gasp sounded otherworldly to your intoxicated brain.

Not fully understanding what you had just admitted to, you yawn saying you’re gonna “hit the hay,” you wink, for literally no reason at all, and stumble your way to your bedroom, tripping over air at least 27 million times.

You reach your room and plop down on your bed face down, completely ready to just fall asleep like that until your phone, which you had forgotten about, starts to ring loudly. You groan, begrudgingly getting up to answer it.

“hEllor?” You slur out, reaching for a bottle of water half drunken on your night stand, in hopes of quenching your thirst.

“Hey, y/n, wait are you drunk?” The unknown person says.

“No, this is Patrick,” You laugh, dying at your joke, slapping your knee for extra effect. You set the phone face up on your bed, pressing the speaker button.

“Well I guess that answers that, there’s no way sober you would such an awful joke.” The person on the other line giggles.

“Heyy, watch it mister whoever you are. I can and will kick your ass. You know I know karate?”

“Oh really?” Mystery man asks.

“Yep, my best friend Harry taught me once. Do you know Harry?”

“Yeah, I’d say I know him pretty well, he’s kind of a goof isn’t he?” The man questions.

You laugh out loud at that, responding in between laughter.

“Yeah he’s a goof, but that’s why i love him. He’s unapologetically himself no matter the situation. You know sometimes I think I relate to the Schuyler sisters more than I’d like to.” The man on the other line takes in a sharp breath, before moving around asking shakily,

“why is that?”

“Because sometimes I wish I had been satisfied and never introduced him to my little sister, oh well, at least i still have him in life. Maybe I’ll meet a rich man like Angelica and move across the sea only seeing them on major holidays and vacations! Yeahhh, that’d be ideal.” You sigh at the end, it quickly turning into a yawn, after hearing no noise coming for the other end you assume the man has gone to sleep, so you bid your goodbyes, hanging up the phone and going to sleep.

——————————————————————————

The Next Morning~

You wake up in the morning with a sticky taped your head- it reads

“Hey girl, we all left as soon as Harry arrived, don’t worry we called ubers just in case. Had fun last night, also about that little secret, it’s safe with us little miss doctor, Love you and can’t wait to do this again!”

You laugh, throwing the sticky note on your bedside table, sitting up straight only to be hit with a ton of bricks to your mental. Memories from the night before come flooding back as well as the mention of Harry being in your house, recalled from the sticky note. Getting up, warily, you make your way to the shower and get ready for the day, you put on pajamas.

Hoping that you’d taken long enough in the bathroom for Harry to have left, you make your way downstairs, only to be met with a nervous smiling Harry eating pancakes and fruit at your table.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” He asked with a worried look.

You look back at him embarrassed, but answer

“oh, i’m okay, just a little tired, and my head’s hurting, but i already took some medicine.”

“Do you, um- do you remember anything from last night?” He looks down at his plate.

You know with your own plate sitting across from him at the table.

“Uh yeah, all of it actually, in fact, this is so funny really, just as I was about to go to sleep some guy, i think, called me, but i never read his contact name so i had no clue who it was, plus the alcohol kind of distorted their voice so i couldn’t tell, anyways, I had a whole conversation with him.” You laugh as you recall the memory, giggling a little at end at yourself for being so silly as a drunk.

“What did you guys talk about?” Harry asked, his eyes now glued to the sink faucet.

“Oh nothing much, talked about karate and just spilled my deepest darkest secrets to him. Are you okay?” You look at him worried.

“Um, yeah. Why do you ask?” Him still not looking at you.

“Because you haven’t made eye contact with me since I walked in, and even then, it was only for a moment. What’s going on?” He looks up you and then back down at the floor, as if pondering what to say next.

“I love you too. I always have, honestly if I’m being completely transparent, I think that’s why I started dating your sister, I mean you guys are just so similar but so different in your own ways, but I just couldn’t learn to love the differences in her. And I know that sounds bad, but I cant ignore what i’ve been yearning to hear from you from the moment we met and not tell you how i’m feeling.” He takes a breath at the end.

You stare at him, trying to comprehend his words, trying to understand where he could have gotten this from, and the only thing that comes to mind is-

“It was you… you were on the phone last night. Weren’t you?” He nods. You stand up, almost knocking your chair over before backing up into a corner.

“y/n we can go somewhere, just us, a date. It doesn’t have to be weird love promise. I already talked to your sister, she under-“

You interrupt him-

“Harry i can’t do that to my sister. If you love me like you say you do, you know that i can’t and will not. I was fine with being in love with you in secret. And you told her? Why would you do that, you were both so happy. Always smiling. I can’t, please. Leave.” He starts shaking his head getting up to approach you.

“Harry leave before I lose it. I can’t do this right now, or ever. Please.” He opens and closes his mouth, defeated he leaves.

You fall to the ground, cupping your face to hold back your sobs from being heard from outside your door, where you sure Harry is waiting for you to let him back in. But you can’t-

you won’t.

~fin~

thoughts on a part 2, i enjoyed writing the angst hehe

93 notes · View notes

yaut-jaknowit · 1 year

Note

WAIT WAIT MY DRUNK BRAIN STARTED WORKING ON ANOTHE MXM IDEA

IMAGINE LIKE THE READER REUNITING WITH HIS MATE AFTER A LONGER TIME PERIOD FOR LIKE WTV ANGSTY REASON (broooo imagine the reader had gone thru smth traumatising like torture or some shit 😭😭) NAHHHH I MIGHT SPAM YOUR INBOX FR TONIGHT MY DRUNK BRAIN STARTED WORKING ON ALL LEVELS FROM ANGST TO NSFW LETSGOOOOO

Returned At Last Part 1

Pairing: Wolf x Reader

Word Count: 4506

Summary: All it was suppose to be a simple trip to earth. Wolf has a job to do. You're okay with that. You stay on the ship where it is safe. No one can hurt you from there. Wolf will come back and the two of you will leave. Don't let your guard down.

Author Note: Soooo I may or not have gone a little overboard with this. That's why it took a hot minute to get it out for you. Hopefully the length of it will be enough of an apology. But also, fucking love this, part of the reason why it's so fucking long.

I promise to all those who have asked me something, I am working on them. I just got side tracked with a few other writing prompts and drawing COD men.

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 2

Traveling out in space wasn’t all it was showed in shows. Getting stranded rarely happened; aliens boarding the ship to take over has never happened; stress and anxiety running high was also a nope. Everything was chill. It was just you and Wolf, flying through space as he hunted down Xenomorphs. When he gets off his ship to do his thing, you happily stay back, safe. He keeps you content with books, games, and other supplies his bought.

Yet, everything wasn’t chill today. Not everything goes perfectly. You weren’t safe.

It all started with a distress beacon coming from earth, funny enough. When Wolf told you about this, you jumped at the call. He, of course, couldn’t say no to the ancients telling him to respond. So, the two of you went through the void of space back to earth. You were more than happy to return after some time away. You couldn’t go visit family, since they believed you to be dead. Wolf had ordered you to stay on the ship. Why? You didn’t know.

This was your home planet after all. You knew about all the dangers, nothing could truly hurt you hidden out in the middle of nowhere. From what you could remember, Wolf placed the ship to be far from the origin. He said something about a gut feeling. Eh, you didn’t pay attention to him as he grumbled and gather his gear.

The two of you said your goodbyes to each other. Wolf went down the ramp, mask on, just like all the other times he has. You waved at him as the ramp started to close, locking you inside. It’s not like he has you trapped in here. You knew the code to leave if need be. He wouldn’t do that to you. There’s always a possibility that you needed to escape. One you didn’t believe in but let him have his way. If that made him content and knew you were safe, that’s all that matter to you as well.

When time passed at an unknown amount of time, just like any other time, you took roost in Wolf’s pilot chair. An action that didn’t save you. A book in hand, eyes scanning over the pages. One of the songs you liked hummed softly through the quiet air. Not a care or worry in the world. Nothing could hurt you while on your planet. That you believed in.

Something felt off. Your eyes lifted off of the page and snapped over to your water cup on the arm rest. The liquid inside was vibrating. Next, you peered over to the engine controls, thinking they somehow activated. Nothing. They were dormmate. That’s when you felt the pilot chair slightly tremble constantly underneath you. Huh?

You shifted to sit normally, gaze settling on the empty plains that sat out in front of the ship. Void of life and beings. If this was California, this could possibly be an earth quake? But you were unsure. You’ve never lived there. You didn’t know. That was the problem at hand.

Unable to relax or return to the book, you kept a flickering gaze on the scene before you. It was just you, the ship, and yellow sagebrush fields. The water kept rippling in its cup. It confused you on what could be causing that. An earthquake wouldn’t last this long. How right you were.

An idea came to mind. Wolf has taught you a few things about his ship, the basics in case of an emergency. You pressed a button on the console. A map of the scanned area appeared, like an aerial view of the plains.

Off to the ships, seven o’clock position was a small group of moving black dots. They were coming towards you. Oh shit! People. Not good. At all. They were heading towards the ship, towards you. Your quick fingers found the comm. Button close by and pressed it. Wolf kept his emergency comm. channel linked to the ship open at all time. For a situation that called for this.

“Wolf? There’s cars heading towards the ship. What should I do?” you questioned, eyes flickering back and forth the map. There’s been only two times you’ve flown the ship. Both opportunities have ended almost ended in a fiery explosion. You didn’t believe you could fly it again. Those chances were without stress. You weren’t worried there were people coming towards your camouflaged ship.

That thought made you paused. The shields were up… The camouflage was activated. How could they know where to drive? It wasn’t luck or chance they were heading in the right direction in the middle of nowhere. Wolf parked his vessel in the middle of nowhere. They shouldn’t know where to go unless…

Wolf hadn’t answered yet. “Wolf? Please, I don’t know what to do. I can’t fly this thing, you know that.” Silence from his end. You could almost groan at that. “Answer me! I need your help, Wolf!” you yelled as if that’ll help him hear you. Why wasn’t he answering? Fear gripped your heart in its deadly claws. Said organ thumping against its bony cage.

Your hands grasped the edge of the ship’s console, knuckles turning white. The vehicles continuously grew closer and closer and closer. Wolf didn’t respond. Had these people already got him? You blew that thought off though. This is Wolf you’re talking about. He took on a hybrid Xenomorph and Yautja. Probably one of the most deadly aliens out there known to existence. Best of all, the head is hung on his trophy wall.

Where are you, Wolf? Your head hung low. Solutions were running rampant in your mind. What to do? What to do? What could you do? Well, for starters, the ship. Its shields were strong, able to resist most blasts from enemy ships. So, these humans would struggle to break in. Yet, that didn’t quell your racing heart.

On the other hand, what couldn’t you do? Fly the damn thing. Wolf hasn’t taught you how to use the weapon system. Something about ‘oomans’ and killing themselves in stupid ways. In his own way, that’s him saying he loves you. You were fucked. You couldn’t escape with the ship. You couldn’t use the two massive guns attached to the belly. All you were a sitting duck for these humans to find and do whatever they want.

To be honest, you could hide. The ship offered many places for you squeeze yourself in. All you had to do was keep quiet and pray to Wolf’s god to keep you safe.

Contrary to belief, you would think living and being mates with a hunter/warrior race would automatically give you the knowledge to fight. Yeah, Wolf’s taught you a few things… it wasn’t going to be enough against the at least nine drivers of the vehicles.

With one last drop of hope, you pressed the comm. button once more. “They’re getting closer, Wolf. Please, I need you. I can’t fight them alone.” You held your breath, ears listening for anything that could signal he heard you.

Nothing. The last bit of hope in your heart was squeezed out. All you had was yourself now. He wasn’t responding which worried you. First, you had to ensure they didn’t get you. So when they leave, you could go find him; against his command before he left. Wolf always told you to stay on the ship. That’s where it was safer for you. He didn’t have to fret if you got yourself in trouble. You listened to him, knowing it was better to do so.

One last look at the map -the black dots less than a hundred yards away, you started to think on where to hide. Someplace they wouldn’t look for someone, if they were looking for you. That likelihood was extremely low. How would anyone know you’re with Wolf? You’re a random person who went missing.

On Wolfs ship, there are five rooms, not including the cockpit. Its not really a room, but oh well. First to come to mind was the kitchenette. That was quickly marked off the list. There was the cabinets to possible squeeze yourself in. You would have to displace some cooking wear. Anyone with a brain will be able to tell something was wrong in there.

Second on the list was the trophy room. Another place marked off. Unlike the kitchenette, it had no true places to hide away in. Only a few small drawers in Wolf’s desk he uses for his tools.

Next, the bedroom. The bed was large with a lot of blankets, courtesy to Wolf and his ability to hunt. Yet, to smother yourself underneath them all… you didn’t know how long they would the on the ship. You could slowly overheat and die or suffocate and die. Both options weren’t fun sounding. You crossed that one off as well.

At this point, you were running out time and rooms. The hull wasn’t going to offer you much either. It had boxes and crates expertly stacked. They were strapped down, filled with whatever Wolf like’s to haul through space. Again, taking the stuff out to hide inside of the crates would be stupid. These people will notice the items and think ‘let’s check these boxes’.

Last on the list was the sparring room. This was your best choice out of all the places this ship has. It had a couple cubby’s for weapons that were currently empty. Said weapons were out on their respected racks for Wolf to train with. You hoped he was okay. That it was just a fluke on him not answering the comm.

Since the sparring room offered the highest chance of survival, you hopped down from the chair. Three steps from the cockpit’s door, you heard the computer alert to a proximity breach. Shit, they were already outside the ship. Now wasn’t the time to screw around.

Quick, unsteady legs carried you to the second closest door to the right from the cockpit. It opened at your closeness. You skidded to a halt. The doors. They would open for them, besides the outside one. Another way Wolf tells you to say inside, where it was safe. It wasn’t going to be safe for much longer.

Your eyes flickered to the other doors. Terror gripped your heart. If you were to lock only one door, it would announce to the people outside that there was something important in there. Why else would it be lock while the others weren’t? Now, you only had two options: lock all the doors, loosing precious time or leave all the doors, lowering your chances for survival. The former would take time to do, time you don’t know if you had. The latter would offer more time to hide.

It's like you could hear Wolf whisper in your ear: give yourself a fighting chance. The second option was you rolling over and giving yourself to the group of people outside. One you didn’t want to do. Wolf would be so disappointed if he ever found out. Instead, you took the training he’s instilled into you to heart and changed tactics.

Let’s play a little Home Alone.

The kitchenette’s door opened at your proximity with a whoosh. The sight before you offered the same result to hiding, nowhere to truly squeeze yourself into. Your hand slapped against the touchpad next to the entrance of said room. Its metal door slid close at the command. You heard the tall tell sign of the lock clicking into place. One do-

An explosion rocked you off your feet, side slamming into the warm, metal ground. You hissed out in pain and sat up, hand rubbing at the aching area. Your vision swam for a moment, making you shake your head to clear it. What in the world was that?!

Then it hit you. The humans. What were they doing? A grunt escaped you as you returned to your feet, unsteady. By the sounds of it, they hadn’t breached the door yet. That left you with extra time to lock the rest and go into hiding.

With a newfound courage and energy, you raced against a fatal clock towards the next door. It was across the wide hallway, with a concave floor in the middle. Like a small common area for Yautjas to relax while traveling through space. You reached the trophy room gateway and did the same action as before. It locked before you. Another down. Just a couple more…

After quickly finishing with the third door – the bedroom, you sprinted towards the second to last one: the hull. If you got this locked, it would take them even longer to get into here. The main entrance was in there, sealing this do-

Before you could take a third step, a blast forced the ship to pitch. It threw you completely off balance, back bouncing off of the nearest wall. Then, you crashed back onto your formerly injured side. “Wolf!” You cried out, writhing for a long moment on the ground. That was going to heavily bruise later. That you could promise.

Voices. You paused, stilling completely, down your breath. Voices down below. You gasped, eyes wide and scrambled back to your unsteady feet. That door needed to be locked, no matter what now. Injured or not. That was your last of defense before they stormed the upper levels, where you were.

Now, with that on your mind, you uncoordinatedly ran towards the hull’s door. It opened, just like any of the others at your presences. An array of curse words pouring inside of your mind at this. Those former voice grew louder, their boots pounding against the metal floor. The next second, you hit the touchpad far harder than you meant to. The entrance before you closed on your command, sealing the second to last door to you.

As much as you wished to take a second to breathe, you jogged over to the last door. “Get this door open!” someone shouted from the other side when you weren’t even two steps away from it. Already?! How quick were these guys?

When you stepped into the room, about to spin around to close it off, another explosion had you stumbling out of it. Before you know it, you were on the cockpits floor.

Through the pain and splitting headache, you staggered over to the panel. On the other side of the room, smoke encased the hull’s door. A flash of red dots could seen marking the smoke. Guns. They had guns. You don’t know why you thought that be news. If these guys know what they’re doing on a Yautja’s ship, of course they would have weapon. Fear still slapped you in the face. You weren’t your boyfriend. He could survive many shots from a gun. You couldn’t.

Your hand slapped against the touchpad, sealing you from them. For the time being. With how quick they were able to knock down the hull’s door… you didn’t have hope they wouldn’t be able to do the same to the others. You turned around though, eyes scanning over the limited area in here. One entrance, one exit. You stuck in here.

An idea came to mind. A while back, Wolf had to do some work on the navigation after a run in with a large beast on a random planet. He took you under his wing and had you sit next to him as he worked. He didn’t talk and just showed you what he did. It’s not like you could ever do it yourself without his help. You didn’t dare touch any of the important ship’s wiring, in case you screwed something up. He knew what he was doing. You’ll happily sit there, twiddling your thumbs while observing.

The spot you were thinking of was underneath the control console. It offered a hidden spot off to the side, away from sight. You could possibly squeeze yourself behind the panel. The area there was small and tight, even for a human. It would luck to be able to fully close it. Yet, it was better than just standing he-

“Find that pet of his!” The earth stopped spinning; your thoughts came to a screeching halt. What?! They know of you. It had to be you they were talking about. Why are they coming for you? How do they even know?! Your heart felt like it dropped six feet underground. You stumbled backwards, back against the closed door, hand on your sternum. They were looking for you. They have guns. You were going to die. They were going to kill you. Why? Why?! Your brain screamed at you. Tears started to dribbled down your cheeks as all you could was lean heavily against the door. They were going to kill you.

The only thing stopping you from accidentally announcing where you were was the hand over your mouth. It held in the sobs, the cries, the whimpers. What you couldn’t hold back was the tears staining your face.

Wolf was going to come back from his hunt to find you dead, your brain splattering his ship’s cockpit. Why didn’t he answer? Where was he? Why did he leave? He should’ve never come back here. Earth was bad. It held bad memories. It’s going to hold more. You dead. He’s going to go after them but it won’t bring you back. You’re going to die. They’re going to kill you.

One last sporadic drop of hope entered your heart. It might been the adrenaline racing the organ to feel that way or the terror that squeezed it. You’ll never know. You sprinted towards the control console, seeing the comm. channel light still on. “Wolf, please, I need you!” you whimpered, hands grasping the metal so tightly your knuckles turned ghost white. “They’re here. They’re on the ship. They have guns. They know I’m here. They’re looking for me.”

The longer you talked, the more it seemed you were going down a spiral. Big, fat, globs of tears splattered against the console. You sobbed, no longer caring how quiet you were. “They’re going to kill me, Wolf. I’m going to die. I don’t want to die. I need you, please!” you cried to him and fell to your knees. your head bowed, forehead touching the edge of the dashboard.

Your shoulders shook, sobs leaving your mouth freely. They had to have heard you at this point but you didn’t care now. All you wanted was Wolf to be here. Here with his arms around your body and protect you from the calling of death. “I don’t want to die,” you whimpered, eyes blurry with tears. “They’re going to kill me.” You were too caught up to hide. It was too late.

One last blast knocked down your last line of defense. You stood up and spun around at the same time, back leaning heavily on dashboard. Smoke clouded the most likely demolished doorway now. You held your breath, waiting for a bullet to pierce the unknown and strike you.

Instead, it was them that breached the heavy smoke. When their gazes immediately landed on you, all of their weapons faced you. “Hands up!” one shouted and used the barrel of his gun to motioned for you to put them up. Terror washed over your face at the sight. It froze you in the very spot you stood in.

“No, no, no, no,” you mumbled, shaking like a leaf. This is where you die. Wolf was somewhere far away, not answering the call. He’s going to come back to you dead. On the cockpit’s floor of his ship, cold and lifeless.

“Get the fuck on the ground, fucker!” another demanded of you. Move, your brain screamed at you. Move! Do something. Anything. Just move!

You fell to your knees, hands gripped in front of in a plea. “Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me,” you begged of them. Out of the seven of them, you saw the closest one’s eyes crinkle. He was smirking. He stepped towards you, staying a decent distance away. His gun continuously pointed at your head, finger on the trigger. Your body shook, eyes wide as you watched him, unable to move.

Said man chuckled, shoulders shaking with the action. “I won’t if you listen to us very carefully. None of us are afraid to pull the trigger and end you. Leave you here, deader than a doorknob,” he snarked and motioned with his gun for you to get on the ground. “Now, face down, hands behind your back.”

It struck you. They weren’t going to kill you. They were going to take you. You didn’t know what was worse. Being captured or head blown to pieces right here. Captured means they’re probably going to torture you. They’re going to ask about Wolf and when you don’t give in, they’re going to hurt you. You weren’t prepared for that.

“No!” you shouted at him, teeth gritting against one another. A slow, molasses of courage starting to seep into your veins. Wolf would want you to fight. You were going to fight. You weren’t going to let them capture you. You weren’t going to give up Wolf.

A chorus of laughter erupted from the group. The closest barked his laugh before marching up to you and shoving the barrel of the gun into your head. From the headache and bruising side, you hissed. “It think’s he has a choice, boys. What do you say? Show it how wrong it is?” he questioned his fellow patriots and kept the barrel of the gun pressed into your head. You refused to go down so easily.

Similar to yourself, you know where to hurt a man. Your fist curled into a shaky fist as your head turned to stared him in the eye. A newfound fire flickering to life within your eyes.

It was like he read your mind. The bottom of his combat boots met your uninjured side and sent you sprawling across the floor. You cursed as pain flooded your left side.

Before you could get back up, a knee knocked the air out of your lungs and stayed glued to your back. The barrel was returned to the side of your head. “See? Wasn’t that easy to just listen. You must do it for your owner all the time.” Owner? Who is he talking about?

“Get off of me!” you yelled at him and squirmed, doing everything in your power to get back up. The clicking of a gun cocking stopped you in your tracks. “If you kill me, there won’t be anywhere on this planet you can hide. He will kill you.”

“Your owner won’t do anything. You’re just his pet, a plaything to him. He’ll leave you to rot in the cell we put you in.” That former fear began to creep back inside of your heart. Wolf wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t leave you behind.

“You’re an ass,” you growled at him. That only earned you a chuckle from him and the others around. It was weak, nothing more than a mosquito flying around. Said man shoved his knee further into your back, forcing you to cry out. “Get off of me, you cunt!”

“Ohhh, the pet has a mouth of it. I thought that alien would’ve made you learn by now,” the leader – as you’ve named him, taunted before whacking you with the butt of his gun. You gasped, vision blurring for a moment. “Got nothing to say now?” You stayed quiet, not wanting to get hit again. “Look, boys. We did a better job than that alien.”

The others laughed with him. Humiliation flooded your veins. You had no choice but to listen now. They had made it clear they were willing to hurt you to get their way. “Alright, boys, get this thing cuffed and head out. I don’t want to stay here any longer than we need to be.”

That last sentence peaked your interest. They were scared of Wolf. Well, of course, who wouldn’t be? He’s a highly, well trained hunter with hundreds of years of experience underneath his belt. The first time you saw him, you were terrified of him. It’s a natural reaction to him.

Cuffed? They were going to take you. Capture you. Possibly torture you for information about Wolf. Information you’re not willing to give up so easily. Yet, you’re not trained. “No!” you snapped and struggled underneath him. You weren’t going to be taken! You didn’t want to be.

“Oh shut up, pet. I’ve had my fun and you’ve had your moment. We’re leaving with you alive or dead. Doesn’t matter to us. We get paid all the same.” One of the other soldiers entered your personal space and handed the leader a pair cuffs. The latter gave a gruff thanks. He hooked his weapon with a strap across his back. With the newly acquired cuffs, he snatched both of your hands and twisted them behind your back.

Your heart stuttered in its bony cage. Terror entered your veins as the first biting, cold cuff encircled your wrist. “Wolf!” you cried out, voice wavering with that one word. “Please Wolf. They’re going to take me.” You knew he couldn’t hear your pleas. You knew he hadn’t answered your calls. He somewhere far away, hopefully okay. It matter to you that you tried.

Where was he? You wanted him here, with his arms around you, protecting you. You didn’t care if he killed them and embraced you the moment after. You wouldn’t care about the stench or sight. You wanted Wolf right now.

The knuckles of a furled fist connected with the side of your head. You groaned. “Shut up, before you blow your brains out right here.” Before you had a chance, the same cold, bitter feeling of the second cuff encased your other wrist. They had you cuffed and ready to be taken. Why didn’t you just hide? Why were you so stupid sometimes in the face of danger? Why wasn’t Wolf here?

With the help of the second closest soldier – the one that handed the leader a pair of cuffs, they both easily lifted you off of the floor. Each had an arm under your pits and dragged you from the cockpit. The fight inside of you was gone before it had time to bloom. You were captured, injured and crying silently. Tears stained your cheeks, falling to the warm metal floors.

Unbeknownst to you, Wolf heard every word, every cry for help. He heard your pleads for him as he raced back, full speed ahead. His older body aching more than ever to reach you in time. He heard the nasty name they called you. Those pyode-amedha were going to pay for laying a hand on you.

Wolf skidded to a stop in the cockpit. Your pungent odor of fear assaulted him. It was too late. The walls shook with a mighty, deafening roar.

#yautja x you #yautja #yautja x reader #predator x reader #x reader #predator x you #yautja x human #predator x human #alien vs predator #predator

342 notes · View notes

fallout4treasures · 1 month

Text

Found this extremely short story in my docs and I thought I published it here but I couldn't find it so here we go! (I've edited it some too, so if you've read it before and it's different now that's why.)

“A fallback point.” He followed her in, disheartened to see her already exploring the small cement shack and digging her way through boxes.

“What are we falling back from?” Her smile was still light, despite the confusion in her eyes.

“We're not. I am.”

Okay, he panicked. He could admit that. When he overheard Quinlan and Arthur talking about his… identity, his brain went into survival mode. He didn't want to believe it at first, but still wasn't going to wait for them to present their evidence. The sickening realization was still weighing heavily on his chest. It actually made sense. His memories, his emotions, he ideals, they were all planted in him by a computer. Probably after he was pieced together in a lab somewhere deep underground. He was what the Brotherhood stood to fight against. He was the enemy.

Leaving was absolutely the right choice, and it was technically faster just to bring Sole along. She had caught Danse right as he was sneaking into a vertibird to get back onto ground level. And for some reason she insisted on coming with on his "unknown mission" rather than let him go alone. But this wasn’t fair to her. She had no idea how much danger he put her in by bringing her. But he couldn't bear to let her go, not yet. It was coming, he knew that, but maybe for now it could wait.

Wait for what? He was piecing this together as he went, but it all seemed to be leading to one answer. It would be his last act for the Brotherhood. To put down one more Institute monster, it just happened to be himself.

He knew he wouldn’t be able to tell her himself, the look of betrayal in her eyes would be too much to handle. He decided he would send her back to the Prydwen when they got to the abandoned post. They would have one last walk together, he owed her that much.

He tried to make conversation, evading Sole's pointed questions. Where were they going? Why couldn't they bring their power suits? Why was he acting so weird? But it would end up coming to an awkward and screeching halt, leaving them to march on in silence. His mind was moving so quickly he couldn't focus on anything they were saying anyway.

Sole didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve to have a synth for a friend, and she certainly didn't deserve to have everyone she cared about taken from her. But there she was, selfless, hopeful, caring. Just rolling with the punches. How did she do that?

“Are we almost there?” She finally asked, breaking another long period of silence shared between them.

“Actually, it’s right up here.” The path led up to the old outpost. She started trotting ahead, despite Danse's objections to wait.

“What is this place?” Sole called out through the open window.

“A fallback point.” He followed her in, disheartened to see her already exploring the small cement shack and digging her way through boxes.

“What are we falling back from?” Her smile was still light, despite the confusion in her eyes.

“We're not. I am.”

“What?” Sole laughed, she stopped flipping through a file to study his face. Her smile fell when he refused to meet her gaze. How could he? “But-”

“You're to report back to Elder Maxson. He’ll- he’ll want to speak to you.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you.”

“That’s an order, soldier.” Danse squared his jaw, meeting her gaze to see her eyes glistening with concern. His eyes fell in defeat, unworthy of looking at her. Sole. A flawless human being. Did he ever know her as a human? Was he replaced as far back as the Capital Wasteland? Was any of it ever real? Why would the Institute program him to care this much?

“What's going on?” Sole stepped closer, ignoring Danse's hesitation. When he didn't say anything she placed the most considerate hand on his forearm, snapping his attention solely towards her and away from his thoughts. Her soft skin, her worried eyes, her parted lips.

"You should go." He croaked out. His heart thumped into his throat. He wanted to pull away but he couldn't. Her touch was so warm, and alive. She wasn't programmed to feel this way. Her caring was pure, it was human. Everything he wasn't, apparently.

"Are you okay?" Her sympathetic voice rang in his ear.

“I’m sorry.” The words came out on their own, knowing what he was going to do before he did.

“For what?” In one sudden move Danse grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her mouth to his, their bodies flushed together as he pushed her back against the wall. He felt her body halt beneath him, but it only took a moment for her mind to catch up to his actions. He let out a groan when her mouth opened up to him, letting their tongues mingle.

He found a way to shut off his mind, and he was going to take advantage of it. She felt good. Better than he had even imagined, but never in his wildest dreams did he ever think she'd kiss him back in real life. This certainly didn't feel like real life however, real life had unimaginable horrors. This felt more like his dreams, and if he tried hard enough he could even convince himself it really was a dream.

He broke away, feverishly making his way down her neck. He sunk his teeth into the soft but toned muscle, groaning at the sensual cry that left her. He kissed his way back to her lips before lifting her up for her to wrap her legs around his waist. She gave a small yelp against his lips as he pressed against her.

"Danse, just wait a sec." She panted. He pulled his head back, and all at once the shame in the pit of his stomach was back. Their eyes met and he was confused to find her staring at him in shock. The soft pads of her fingers reached to touch his cheek, and to his shock they were wet when they pulled away. Had he been crying?

Her perfect, very human, hand cupped his face with her thumb wiping the salty liquid across his cheek. Her expression broke his heart, she wouldn't feel this way if she knew the truth.

He hadn't noticed that his legs were shaking until his knees started to buckle below him. It seemed to happen so quickly. He had set her down and was sitting on the ground, with her following suit but making sure her own hands never left him. He wanted so badly to pull her close and cry into her comforting neck. But he had exploited her feelings enough.

"What's wrong?" She asked. How could he do this to her? Why would he be programmed to be so selfish? How could he feel like he loved her when he was a machine?

"Talk to me, please." She begged, thickening the lump in his throat.

"I-I… I'm sorry. I… I have to tell you something."

#fo4 #fallout 4 #fallout #paladin danse #danse #fanfic #im so in love with this man and im not even sorry #also not sorry about any grammar or spelling mistakes #could not care less

18 notes · View notes

mickyaltierisgf · 11 months

Note

I have a Romickey idea that has been rotting my brain and you do not need to write this but I’m gonna pitch it…and you can decide! So basically it takes place after scream 6 or somewhere around then… Reader is Randy’s sibling… 💕

Reader gets a call and it’s ghostface, but behind the voice it’s Mickey… reader and him dated in college and they haven’t seen him since the night he revealed himself in ‘97. Then the call ends, they are scared but reader goes about their day and another call happens, ghostface again, but this time it’s Roman. They dated during the events of scream 3, reader was still trying to get over Mickey but thought Roman was a good replacement. Reader then sees the two men and realises Mickey and Roman have paired together to try and win reader back and she ends up becoming a secret ghostface to seek justice for Randy… no idea if that is good or not but yeah! ☺️

It's been a while, but here it is anon. This will likely be a two parter. Kinda nsfw at the end. | mdni

poly!romickey x fem!reader

he'll appear out of nowhere

You looked through your closet, sorting through your clothes with a little huff. For some reason, none of them appealed to you, and you wondered if you’d make it in time to go shopping before your date tonight. You checked the time on your cellphone when a call suddenly came through, the ringtone startling you and causing you to drop it.

You cursed, checking the screen for damage and noticing the "Unknown" alert. You didn’t like answering calls unless they came from a name or number you could recognize, but ever since going into freelance work, you didn’t always have that luxury.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this Y/N?"

You frowned a bit; the voice didn’t sound like anyone you knew, yet somehow it felt familiar to you.

"Yes. Who’s asking?"

"I missed you. Did you miss me?"

"I don’t even know who you are," you said flatly.

The still-unnamed voice laughed, and you wondered if they had caught your reference.

"You know me pretty well," they answered almost suggestively. "And you’ll get to know me even better soon."

"I’d rather..." you trailed off as the line went dead. "Not," you muttered belatedly.

You decided it was probably some stupid punk playing a prank. It happened every so often. Someone found your webpage, recognized your name, and decided they’d mess with you a bit. In the past, you’d had to change your number a couple of times. Nowadays, you just blocked and moved on.

You tossed your phone on the bed and continued to rummage through your closet. You should buy yourself a new purse and a pair of shoes, too. Might as well complete the look.

You tried to open the door with one hand while juggling your bags with the other. You had a few hours left before you were meant to meet your date. Your cellphone rang, and you dropped off the bags in your bedroom before fishing your phone out of the pocket of your jacket.

You eyed the "Unknown" with a bit of trepidation before answering with a tired "Hello?"

"Hello, Y/N."

"Gonna tell me who you are?" you ask, tugging your shoes off.

"Wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise."

"Yeah, I guess I should let the police unmask you themselves," you respond, annoyed.

"They’d never catch me. Definitely not before I got to you."

"Gonna start threatening me now? Good. I kind of have plans for tonight," you mention, laying out your new outfit for later.

"I know, you had a date. I don’t think he’s going to make it," the voice says cryptically. Now you felt a chill run through you. "But don’t worry, you can still get all pretty for us."

"Yeah, well, sorry buddy, but I’m just not that into you," you say and hang up. You block the number and let out a breath.

It hadn’t been that long since there’d been an actual Ghostface attack, which made you worry that maybe this could be a real thing and not a prank like you’d suspected. Your niece and nephew had been mixed up in the last attack, and maybe that’s why this was happening again. Every time a Ghostface was brought down, a new one would rise to take its place. And you were, regrettably, intimately familiar with not one but two of the worst.

Mickey. Your first real love. You were as gone for him as Randy was for Sidney. No, you were worse. Because at least Randy had known the real Sid, just as he’d been able to see through to the real Mickey. But it wasn’t until the mask was lifted that you finally saw him yourself. And by then, it was too late. There was no saving Randy from him or his partner, Nancy Loomis, who had almost sent you to your own grave.

You and Sidney both dropped out of college after that. You were alone and miserable for a few years until you met Roman Bridger. You couldn’t explain what had attracted you to him so much. There was something about him that reminded you of Mickey. In truth, that should have been the first major red flag that turned you off of him. But instead, it only made you cling to him more.

That ended up just as bad as your first heartbreak. Learning that once again, you were just a means to an end. And then you were left to mourn your lost love, even knowing that the men you grieved for had never really loved you back.

You pushed the thoughts away forcefully. You had no reason to believe this wasn’t another lame attempt by some bored asshole to scare you. You weren’t going to hide away in your house. You had a date. You were going to go out and put this whole thing out of your mind.

You took a quick shower just to refresh, rubbed some scented lotion on your skin, and slipped on a silk robe. You blow-dried your hair and brushed it until it was gleaming. You pulled it away to work on your makeup, and once you were satisfied, you put on your new dress. You admired yourself in the mirror, loving the way the dress looked even more now than when you’d tried it on at the store.

You checked the time on your phone before tucking it in your new purse along with your wallet and your keys. You made sure all the lights were turned off on your way to the front door. You stepped out, and as you reached inside your purse for your keys, a hand came up to your mouth. You gasped, your eyes going wide as saucers, and tried to scream. Your heart was beating so fast that you thought you might have a stroke.

You dropped the purse and tried to fight off your unseen assailant, but they easily caught both your hands, and another hand flew to your mouth to stop you from shouting for help. You gasped again, seeing the eerie white mask looming close to your face. Your purse was kicked inside, and you were dragged back inside forcefully, trying in vain to reach for the door as it slammed shut.

"Don’t scream," the creepy voice behind the mask said.

"Not yet," the one behind you added.

The hand on your mouth fell away, and the killer restraining you loosened his grip, though he didn’t step away. The door was locked, and you were dragged into the living room, almost tripping over your own feet in your heels. Neither one of them seemed to be carrying a knife or any type of weapon, and maybe that made you feel a bit bold, so you reached up for the killer’s face and grabbed the mask. They jerked back as if surprised, but didn’t resist as you yanked the mask off.

Your hand shook, and the mask slipped out of your hand and onto the floor at your feet. "Mickey..." you whispered as your eyes rolled up into your head and you pitched backward. Mickey caught you swiftly, but you were already unconscious before he could lay you down.

You blinked your eyes open, Mickey’s face slowly coming into focus. He was tapping your cheek lightly, and he smiled at you as your eyes met. He was infuriatingly beautiful, just as he was the last night you saw him. He’d been manic, with wicked glee in his eyes and a maliscious grin stetching his lips in a wide smile, his teeth glinting white and sharp, and a gruseome gash spilling ruby blood down the side of his face. Even then, he still looked like the most beautiful creature you’d ever laid eyes on. And all these long years later, with a bit more stubble and a hint of gray at his temples, he was still the prettiest man you’d probably ever seen. Time had not diminished his beauty in the least.

Despite this, you still scrambled to sit up and scoot as far away from him as you could. You were seeing ghosts now. No, demons. Because Mickey had to be projecting his image to you from hell. Could demons do that?

"Am I dead?" You asked and looked at the other robed figure beside Mickey, who still hadn’t removed their mask. "Oh my God, is that Mrs. Loomis?"

"C’mon, Y/N, give me a little more credit than that. I wouldn’t team up with that crazy bitch again," Mickey replied.

"You’re not dead," the other Ghostface said, still in that artificial voice, as they finally pulled off their own mask.

"Of fucking course," you say, as Roman’s face is revealed.

He looked almost exactly as you remembered. His skin was maybe a little less smooth and a bit more tan, but that's all. He smiled a bit and your eyes were drawn to his lips. They looked plush and inviting and you wanted to reach out to test their softness. You wet your own lips but you held your hand firmly at your side and darted your eyes away. There wasn’t one visible flaw you could detect. He was still as 'ravishingly handsome' as you recalled the magazines describing him when you first met.

"Am I in hell?" you say, more to yourself than anyone else.

"You think we’re in hell?" Mickey asked, somehow sounding offended.

"Last time I checked, homicidal maniacs were supposed to go to hell when they died, yes," you informed.

"I’m not a homicidal maniac!" Roman immediately denied.

"You killed at least nine people! I’m pretty sure that’s more than anyone else who’s worn that ugly freak costume!" you accused.

"I killed a few people before I even became Ghostface," Mickey interjected unhelpfully.

You simply stared at him as Roman shook his head. Roman rose to his feet and extended a hand to you. You looked at it and at him, hesitating to accept his help. Suddenly, Mickey was standing and hauling you up. He picked you up easily, and you clung to him, gripping his arms, as you hadn’t expected to be yanked up so quickly like that.

"Put me down!" You insisted.

He plopped down on the couch, positioning you in his lap. You squirmed in his grip, but his arms locked around you, keeping you in place. Mickey seemed to nuzzle the side of your head, rubbing his cheek against your soft hair and inhaling the scent. The more you tried to wiggle out of his grasp, the more you unintentionally rubbed against his crotch. The little groan he let out next to your ear made you stop. Roman sat beside you, a gloved hand resting on your thigh. Your dress had ridden up and was barely covering your legs by this point. He stroked the inside of your leg, the material of his glove tickling you slightly.

"How are you alive?" You blurted because you still couldn’t reconcile how not one but two of your until recently assumed dead exes could be here in your house practically molesting you. "Mickey got shot at least 15 times. And I saw you die holding Sidney’s hand." You narrowed your eyes at Roman accusingly.

"Holding hands, huh?" Mickey spoke, matching your expression as he looked at Roman over your shoulder.

"She grabbed my hand!" Roman defended. "I was injured and outnumbered. They thought I was dead, and I let them believe it."

"You let me believe it too." You said darkly, trying to move your leg away from his touch. Roman frowned, but he didn’t let you go, still rubbing circles into your thigh as if trying to soothe you. "And you?" You barked, pinching Mickey wherever your hand could reach him.

"Their aim was shit. Sid and that bitch Gale shot the wall behind me more than they shot me."

"You went flying," you scoffed. "There’s no way they missed all those shots."

"But here I am. Alive..." He kissed your neck. "And well," he said suggestively, moving you just enough that you could feel how hard he was under you. You felt a pulse of heat go through your body, which only intensified when Roman’s hand moved higher, disappearing under your dress. He moved even closer to you, his full lips brushing against the corner of your mouth as you tried to turn your head away.

You avoided his gaze, and your eyes settled on the fireplace across the room. Specifically, the numerous picture frames of your family and especially Randy. You felt your anger and indignation flare up hotly again, and you snarled as you renewed your struggle so you could escape both their holds on you. But it was futile. They had you closed in, and they were too strong for you to force them to let you go. You thought to dig your heel into Mickey’s foot or Roman’s, whichever was easiest, but the shoes they wore were too heavy for that to hurt.

"What’s eating you now?" Mickey asked, and the slight edge of irritation in his tone had your blood boiling.

"My brother being dead, which is your fault!" you spat, furious.

"That wasn’t me, Y/N." Mickey said, a little condescendingly. "I wasn’t even there; that was Nancy. He wasn’t supposed to die; mommy dearest was trying to get Gale, not him. But Randy could never just keep his big mouth shut."

"Let me fucking go!" You all but yelled.

"Y/N, relax," Roman said authoritatively, grasping your chin in his hand. He gripped it tighter as he felt you try to jerk away. He pulled you into a forceful kiss, and you bit down on his lip. His eyes were black as he licked the blood and fed it to you through another kiss. His tongue tangled with yours, preventing you from trying to bite down again.

"I wouldn’t have killed him," Mickey spoke softly and almost apologetically to you. "I wouldn’t have done that to you," he assured, nuzzling you again. The words you wanted to say were muffled by Roman’s mouth still devouring yours. Even though you still tried to pull away, his hand moved from your chin to the back of your head, preventing you from breaking the kiss.

His other hand was touching you between your legs, rubbing against your underwear. One of Mickey’s hands slid up from your side to cup your breast and squeeze it in his palm. When Roman finally broke the kiss himself, you felt a bit dizzy from the deep kiss, the lack of oxygen, and the scalding heat engulfing your body.

Roman’s hand in your hair pulled your head back and to the side, making room for Mickey. He gazed at you with rich brown eyes, and you felt he’d caught you in a spell. He kissed you with equal fervor, which was almost enough to distract you from what Roman was doing until you felt him move your underwear aside. Instinctively, you tried to squeeze your legs together, as if to stop him from going any further. But you only managed to pin his hand between your legs, and you heard him chuckle lowly as he pressed a finger inside you.

Mickey was tugging at your dress, trying to squeeze your tits through your bra. You heard a tear, but you couldn’t make yourself care, and you just moaned into the kiss, the sound being swallowed by Mickey’s tongue.

tbc

#scream #ghostface #mickey altieri #roman bridger #ghostface x reader

75 notes · View notes