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a-mint-bear · 3 months ago

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I Think My Cute Co-Worker Got Taken Over By an Alien Hive Mind

On a mission and aboard a ship in space, your only real friend there is the cute and shy janitor. After an accident where he crashed on a nearby planet, he's been acting very... strangely.

(just a teensy bit of nsft implications in the dialogue here, nothin explicit)

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You're a scientist on a long-term space expedition. It's mission is to find possible inhabitable new worlds for humanity to live on in the future. Your job is to monitor and research environmental factors that could pose a threat to your crewmates and the mission and find ways to make planets more livable.

There are security officers, miners, your fellow scientists and researchers, the doctor and her assistant, a couple of maintenance androids for the ship and of course the crew who navigate and serve on the big hunk of metal you're all zipping through space on. On that crew is the ship's custodial worker.

You're not so snobbish to undervalue the importance of a clean living environment, especially in the medical wing and your own lab, but there are some on the ship that treat him like he's invisible or like he's not important just because he's not the brains or muscle on board. He comes and cleans up in your lab every day before dinner, and while sometimes you're too busy to really spend any time chatting, you do enjoy the talks you get to occasionally have.

Sometimes you're so busy that you end up working through dinner, and when you finally pull yourself out of it, you find quick and easy dishes ready for you well past the allotted mealtime. He always leaves a little candy from his personal stash alongside them, so you know it's from him.

He's a bit shy, and very quiet, but he always seems to light up whenever the two of you get to talk. You heard a rumor that he's the son of some business associate of one of the benefactors of the mission, and he just needed a job. Another rumor that he was a bit of a screw-up back on Earth and needed a fresh start somewhere far away. But to you, he was just your friend.

If you were being completely honest, you might've had a bit of a crush on him. He was just so kind and genuine, compared to the self-important scientists you spent every day with. And he was pretty cute, behind the baggy janitorial uniform and the dirt that sometimes smeared his face. He was sweet and he seemed to always be thinking of you, and he was one of the only things in your life that made you smile.

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There was a mishap one day, a near cataclysmic crash where six members of the mission crew were dislodged from the ship and fell into the low orbit of the nearby uninhabited planet.

He was the only survivor. He'd managed to land in a strange body of water where the density levels were so high that he hit the water mostly safely and stayed afloat until rescue. A broken arm and a minor head wound plus a slight concussion, but he was alive.

Other people on the crew seemed almost angry that out of the six people lost, including the ship's first mate and a researcher, the janitor was the one to survive. But you were just so happy he came back to you.

But after that day, your friend had... changed.

He was smooth and cool, almost confident? A little awkward still, but he carried himself differently. Almost like he was an entirely different person.

And he was... a lot more forward with you. Despite being so happy he was alive and even glad that he was making a move on you finally, you couldn't help but feel like something was wrong with him.

One day, he came in to clean your lab like every day and when you asked him how he was feeling, his arm still in the quick-print cast and the stitches on his forehead still healing, he just smiled.

"I'm fine." he smiled at you, standing a bit too close. "I missed you..."

You joked with him that he just saw you that morning, and he smiled that same smile.

"I've been thinking about you..." He held a lock of your hair in his fingers, seeming almost entranced by it. "My thoughts are damn near consumed by you, love."

You couldn't help the warmth that sprung to your cheeks. He was standing so close, and while he was acting odd, he was still that same considerate, sweet man.

"I want to touch you..." His voice was low and hit just right. You wanted it too, but you faltered. You told him that you weren't sure... that something felt wrong.

"Just let yourself go..." he smiled, caressing your cheek, his other hand holding your wrist. "I want you... Let me feel you."

Wrong. It felt wrong. He wasn't that type of guy. This...

You smiled, putting your hands on his chest. You told him that you were in charge here, pushing him back slightly with an authority you weren't used to wielding. But you stayed calm. Your hand lingered on his chest, pressing him against the wall.

He bit his lip, such a confident face... it only confirmed what you feared. Taking a step back, you ordered him to not move, he needed to be good for you. Your gaze still locked onto his, you pulled up a holo-screen, locking down your analyzer containment field. His smile didn't slip, but his eyes darted around with a puzzled look in them.

"What are you doing, love?" His voice didn't seemed alarmed or even mildly concerned. "Locking me up? If you wanted me all to yourself, all you had to do was ask..."

You told him you didn't know what he was up to, but you weren't fooled by him. He wasn't your friend.

"What do you mean?" He pressed his hands to the shielding, like he was testing it while still talking to you, placating you. "It's me... Let me out, love."

You told him your friend, even if he wanted you, would never push past your boundaries like that. He was sweet and considerate, and the kindest man you knew. While whatever this was had been ready to hold you down to get what it wanted.

You started your scans while it just talked to you, but you didn't respond.

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An hour had passed. If anyone found out what you were doing, they would deem it too risky and demand he be ejected from the ship. It wasn't like this was the captain you were scanning, or a fellow scientist. The mission could afford to lose him. But you couldn't.

"Let me out." It still wore your friend's smile, but there was something in it's eyes. Something... old. Something consuming him. "Let me touch you, love. I want to feel your warmth."

Your hands danced across the holographic screen, lining up your scanners. Usually they'd been used for scanning minerals and water sources to make sure they were safe for humans, but they were equipped with biological scanners in the case of the med-bay's destruction or shut-down. You were looking for what ever could be possessing your dear friend.

Something had been in that water, you were sure of it.

"We need to taste you..." It's tongue lolled out from it's mouth, panting and dripping saliva. "One taste, that's all we need. And then you'll be part of us. No more worries, no more searching, no more fighting to survive... you'll finally be free."

When you didn't respond, it laughed.

"We know how much you want him." It almost seemed to be taunting you now. "We can smell it on you... Don't you want to know what it's like? His lips on yours? His touch on your skin? You've been so isolated on this ship... long, cold endless nights with no one beside you. We know his mind, love. It's plagued by thoughts of you. Oh, how he spent night after night... positively enraptured... consumed with the mere possibility of your attentions. Your affection... Your toucccchhhh..."

You tried to shut out his words as your scanners looked for a way to stop this, to get him back, but the thing inside him seemed unbothered. Almost amused.

"He loves you..." It laughed. "It's an intense, burning thing. He wants nothing more than to feel you under him, in the throws of his LOVE... Your nails digging into his back, screaming his name... His obsession is what let us in... So singularly-minded... It was almost too easy..."

"We came into his body, his mind... it was hard not to be consumed by the thoughts of you. His wants became our wants. We are one, love. His love, OUR love... Be ours, and nothing else will matter..."

You paused. The thing inside him, It was speaking in the present tense. Like he was still in there somewhere. Or at least he wasn't dead. This thing wasn't possessing his lifeless body. It was in there with him. You felt more determined than ever.

You told it you would keep it here until you found out how to get it out of him. Even if you had to study him for days, weeks, you wouldn't stop until he was safe.

"You don't know how happy you've made him, love." It smiled, licking his lips. "He always wanted you looking only at him."

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light novel-ass titles are so funny to me

still working on CO3 but i needed to write this. i promise it's coming soon

can y'all guess what movie i went and saw that made me think of this one?

i've been thinking of a yandere that it actually some kind of possessing entity, and the idea latched onto a sci-fi vibe.

i wanted the header to reflect a darker haired, scruffier guy with a bit of chin hair who gives off a real loser vibe, but i usually source from other people's ai images (can't be copyrighted), and damn it all if they aren't all baby-faced little guys lol

something more like this:

but that's just fanart of Eraserhead from MHA lol

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yanderedrabbles · 4 months ago

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Thinking of Yandere! Captor date night. It doesn't matter that they took you, that you need to be chained to them at all times. They're a romantic at heart and want to show it. Unfortunately for you, that means being forced to endure something sappily romantic at least once a week.

Maybe its a movie. Sharing a blanket, their arm casually thrown over your shoulder the entire time. It doesn't matter that you're bound and gagged, you're going to watch the Notebook together and you're going to like it.

Or maybe its a dinner date. They aren't taking you out to a restaurant, obviously. So they make do with a romantic, candlelit meal a few feet away from the bed where they keep you chained. White table cloth, a vase with flowers, classical music in the background. If nothing else, you can admire their commitment to recreating the vibe.

They'll probably cook for you. Something you'll find on an expensive menu. Lobster. Oysters. Thick cuts of steak. They don't really care about your dietary preferences. This is what people eat when they go out, ergo its what you'll be eating.

And your least favourite, the wine tastings. That one could be a really cute idea, being locked in their basement aside. They usually end up designing a whole charcuterie board to go with their flavours of the week. You never thought you'd end up tasting Cabrales blue under such...interesting circumstances.

You might have really liked the wine dates, if it weren't for one teensy problem. Your yandere absolutely cannot hold their liquor. It makes them handsy, makes them flirtatious. Less than an hour in and the fancy spread of figs and crackers will almost always be abandoned in favour of other, sweeter treats. The kind they love to take and the kind you hate to give.

You try being difficult at first. Refuse to sit still and let them enjoy the film. Refuse to eat. And, the most audacious you've been, spitting the food back in their face. It doesn't end well for you. Depending on the yandere, there's a whole host of ways to punish you. Starvation. Isolation. Fucking you until you can't stand. Either way, you learn your lesson pretty damn fast.

So when date night comes? You change into whatever outfit they picked out, do your hair all nice, and sit pretty while they indulge their romantic fantasy.

And who knows? Maybe one day they'll trust you enough to take you on a romantic walk. Maybe they'll trust you enough to take you out in public. And when they do? That's when you'll put all your stifled anger to good use.

Your yandere waits every week for their sweet, romantic date. You wait for the chance to escape it.

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere scenarios #yandere x reader #reader insert

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bettys-redwinesupernova · 5 months ago

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CRAZY

rafe cameron x fem!reader

(mood board does NOT depict readers’ appearance !!)

SUMMARY: y/n knows exactly what makes rafe angry, and after a fight she uses it to her advantage.

based on this ask !! i hope it’s what you asked for anon, enjoy my lovely <3

(check out my other drew starkey & rafe cameron works here !!)

WARNINGS: lowkey a toxic relationship, cursing, rage has anger issues, reader is a teensy bit petty, angst but w/ a fluffy/soft ending though !! (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

THIRD PERSON +

The fight had been bad—bad enough that Y/N had stormed out of Rafe's truck, slamming the door behind her so hard the sound echoed through the empty parking lot.

Her chest heaved with frustration, fingers trembling as she dug into her bag for her phone. She needed space. She needed air. And, most of all, she needed to get away from Rafe before she said something she couldn't take back.

Their relationship had always been intense, an unrelenting push and pull that left them both breathless. Rafe loved hard, and he fought even harder, his jealousy and temper a storm she'd learned to navigate. Most of the time, she knew how to calm him down—knew exactly what to say to keep the fire from burning too hot. But tonight? Tonight, she didn't want to be the one to fix it.

Her finger hovered over the settings on her phone, her heart racing as she tapped the switch to turn off her location. She knew it would piss him off. That was exactly why she did it.

The messages started almost immediately.

Rafe🖤: Where the fuck are you?

Rafe🖤: Turn your location back on, Y/N.

Rafe🖤: Don't do this right now.

Y/N ignored them, walking the short distance to her house. She needed a night to herself, away from his sharp words and possessive hands. By the time she locked her front door behind her, her phone had blown up with missed calls, each one filling her with a strange mix of satisfaction and guilt.

She tossed it onto the couch and sighed, running a hand through her hair. She hated fighting with him. Hated the way it drained her, leaving her restless and exhausted all at once. But at the same time, she couldn't just keep letting him get away with his controlling tendencies.

She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. A night of self-care—it was exactly what she needed.

—

Rafe was losing his mind.

He was pacing his bedroom, jaw tight, hands clenched into fists. He'd called her a dozen times, sent twice as many texts, and nothing. The read receipts taunted him. She was ignoring him on purpose.

His heart hammered in his chest, but it wasn't just anger. It was fear.

He knew Y/N, knew she was stubborn and fiery, but she wasn't reckless. She wouldn't just disappear—unless she wanted to prove a point.

"Fuck," he muttered, shoving his hands through his hair. He grabbed his keys off the nightstand and stalked out of his house. If she wasn't going to answer him, he'd go straight to where he thought she’d be.

—

Y/N had just finished painting her nails when the loud, insistent pounding on her front door made her jump.

She groaned, already knowing exactly who it was.

"Y/N. Open the goddamn door."

Rolling her eyes, she stayed where she was on the couch, letting him stew. She wasn't about to let him ruin her night of peace.

More knocking. Harder this time.

"Seriously?" she called out, still not moving. "Go home, Rafe."

"Not happening," he shot back, voice muffled but unmistakably pissed.

Y/N sighed, setting down her nail polish bottle with exaggerated patience. She padded to the door, taking her sweet time before unlocking it and swinging it open.

Rafe stood there, broad shoulders tense, blue eyes blazing with frustration. His chest was rising and falling with uneven breaths, like he'd been barely keeping himself together the whole drive over.

"You think this shit is funny?" he asked, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

She arched a brow. "What are you talking about?"

He scoffed, shutting the door behind him. "You turned your location off, ignored my calls—what the fuck was I supposed to think, huh?"

She crossed her arms, unbothered. "That I wanted space?"

Rafe clenched his jaw, running a hand down his face. He was furious, but more than that, he was relieved. Seeing her standing there in pajamas, a face mask on, her nails half-painted—she hadn't been out doing something reckless. She hadn't been with someone else. She was just... here. Safe.

That realisation made his anger simmer just enough to be replaced with something else.

His shoulders dropped, his gaze softening ever so slightly. "You could've at least told me you were home."

Y/N sighed, some of her stubbornness fading at the exhaustion in his voice. "I just... needed a break, Rafe. From the fighting, from the way you get when you're mad." She shook her head. "I didn't want to deal with it tonight."

His lips pressed into a tight line, and for a moment, she thought he'd argue. But then he surprised her by exhaling slowly and nodding. "I get it," he muttered.

She blinked, caught off guard by his sudden agreement. "You do?"

"I don't like it," he admitted, his voice lower now. "But yeah." He ran a hand through his hair, the anger fading as something heavier took its place. "I just—I fucking hate not knowing where you are. It drives me crazy."

Y/N sighed, her frustration waning. She knew Rafe wasn't like this for no reason. He loved her, even if he didn't always know how to show it in a healthy way.

She stepped closer, hesitantly reaching out to touch his arm. "I wasn't trying to hurt you. I just... needed time to breathe."

Rafe looked down at her, his blue eyes searching hers. After a beat, he nodded again. Then, without a word, he pulled her into his arms, wrapping her up in a tight embrace.

Y/N exhaled against his chest, feeling the tension between them ease just a little. He was still possessive, still overbearing, but he was trying. And for now, that was enough.

"Can I stay?" he mumbled into her hair.

She let out a soft chuckle. "You already let yourself in, so yeah."

He huffed out a quiet laugh, his grip on her tightening. "I'll make it up to you."

Y/N pulled back slightly to look up at him. "Damn right you will."

He smirked, then pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. "C'mon. Let's go to bed."

An hour later, they were tangled up together in her bed, limbs intertwined beneath the covers. Rafe's arms were wrapped securely around her, like he was afraid she'd disappear if he let go.

Y/N felt herself start to drift off, comforted by the steady rise and fall of his chest. Despite everything—the fights, the chaos—she knew she wouldn't trade this for anything.

Because for all his flaws, Rafe Cameron loved her in a way that no one else ever could. And if he had his way—no one else ever would.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was a short little one, but i’m trying to get through as many request before i go on holiday !! the ‘sports car’ drew starkey fic may be posted when i return as i’ll be taking a tumblr break for that week :)

still send in any requests, i’ll be working through my inbox until then !! some of these i’ve been writing for a couple weeks i’ve just had writers block lmao

#drew starkey #bettys asks !! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚#rafe cameron #outer banks #bettys work !! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚#fluff #obx #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron x yn #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #angst #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe x reader

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running-with-kn1ves · 1 year ago

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hii! i wanted to ask if you could do a yandere kidnapper x yandere darling? like rich depressed yan that can't imagine living without their darling and ended up taking drastic action, only to find out that darling is way more insane and obsessed passionate than they thought

A/N: I've never been super big on the yan x yan trope but I think this came out kinda cool! Hope this is what you were looking for <3

Synopsis: Sneaking into your beloved's bedroom bent on getting pictures for your stash, you're quickly found by him, who's surprisingly enthusiastic to find you breaking in.

CW: Kidnapping, mutual obsession, shrine dedications, murder (offscreen lol)

WC:3000+

“Nice… new pics for the blog.”

Your camera click click clicked with a shutter noise each time you rapid fired its capture button, eye so close to the screen you might as well be looking through the viewfinder solely itself.

“I can see it now… his unkept bedroom revealed, beautiful little face plastered beside this… heap.”

You looked at the pile of dirty clothes that had yet to be picked up by the estate's cleaning ladies. Well, if you were as filthy rich as he was, you’d probably do the same. Who would waste time cleaning their room when you have the whole world to see? Or in his case, a million press conferences to attend.

Your eye was drawn to a slightly ajar closet, an odd lock seeming to have been hastily unfastened, now leaving the doors peeking open. Something red was inside. Oh boy, you could hardly contain your excitement.

What kind of secrets would the famous, wealthy heir Elijah Walsh have in his teensy private closet? Mayhaps some drag dress up that no fan would expect? Dead bodies? Or even, the rumored cocaine stash his poor daddy was accused of hiding?

You knew Elijah like the back of your hand, unable to imagine any kind of hidden truths that you haven't already discovered. For you, a superfan, (and ultimately, the soulmate he doesn't know about yet) were aware of far more than the average tabloid who didn’t cross trespassing boundaries for love like you had.

You ripped open the doors without hesitation, snapping pics before even turning the light on.

But what you saw, was something you weren’t sure you’d want to keep on camera.

It was you. Well, a picture of you, from some yearbook or singled-out group shot that you couldn’t pinpoint the exact year from. Around your awkward grinning face was a series of items, pinned on a pretty red board like it was a crime scene of sorts. Or maybe… a shrine?

“What the f… is that my underwear??” You looked at the old pair of stretched out undies you had since middle school. Definitely not the pair you’d want some kind of stalker or investigator to get their hands on.

You saw a few old chapsticks taped to the board, one of which you had been searching for in some old bag you swore you left it in. “I was looking for those!” You grabbed the chapstick and a broken brush, the exact same you thought you had thrown away months ago.

Out of all the things you hoped to find-- used Q-tips, one of his musky jackets, maybe even some dark sex toys-- this wasn’t on your list. But you couldn’t help the spike in your heart, the flutter that made your toes point inward.

You had been running this journalist (really a stalker-ish) blog on Elijah since before he got big in the press. You went to the same elementary school and for a short time in middle school, and ever since you couldn’t get his name out of your head. Now, you had a justified reason to keep tabs on him, since his family was currently in the public eye for a variety of deeds.

Along with professing your obsession with him since childhood, your blog dated the shocking events of his controversies-- keeping it all under an anonymous pen name, of course. You had information news sites couldn’t get their hands on; the dedication you put into watching him was a trait of pride you could never let go.

Memories of him comforted you at night, and seeing his pretty face in the grocery store magazines hoarded under your bed made you drift off to daydream land where, maybe, you’d be more than just some heavy breathing keyboard jammer fawning over him from a distance..

And here was, you. Your things. In his room. Even from the times you climbed the tree beside his window, you never saw this… anomaly of items.

“What’s this even… mean.” You whispered, dumfounded and growing antsy. Elijah would be coming back now any second, the route of his driver dinging on your phone.

‘Wait.. does he, know? That I’ve been watching him? Is this all evidence to… incriminate me??’

Worry was creeping up inside of you. But there was no time, not when a heavy vase clunked against your head from behind, letting out a resounding ‘crack!’ from the contact. The chapstick fell from your fingers, camera sliding with you as it lingered loose around your neck.

The last thing you could think of before darkness hit, was ‘man, I hope I don’t fall on my camera… can’t replace it again. ‘

The unconscious darkness blinding your eyes was snuffed out what seemed hours later, replaced by a buzzing yellow light hanging from the ceiling. You groaned outloud, feeling groggy; an aching pain throbbed in your slumped neck and a sore bump on your scalp.

‘Got a killer headache…’

You tried to pull your hands up to the bump to feel for a bruise, but fell flat with your arms tucked behind your back. You jerked them around, not realizing that they in fact were stuck together-- tied by rope, or some kind of fabric.

“Thank god, you’re awake. Thought maybe I hit you too hard-- I don’t know what i’d do if that happened.” A familiar voice rang out in the musty, echoing room.

“What…?” You croaked, trying to look up without facing the wrath of your headache the more light entered your eyes.

“Here, drink some water.”

A bottle came in front of you, so close to your lips all you had to do was bend down to touch it. You did so without thinking, tasting the sandpaper of a tongue you were stuck with. As soon as the cool water touched your throat, you thought about potential poisoning. Who was this person bottle-feeding you water, why couldn’t you do it yourself??

You were too thirsty to care about the consequences, gulping it down as the bottle lifted higher to accommodate you.

Letting out a pant, you sat back, trying to rub water off your lip with a shoulder shimmy.

“Where am I? What’s going on--” It all started to come back to you, being in Elijah’s room, trespassing on private property, seeing the closet hoard of you. “Wait, please don’t report me, I promise it isn’t what you think it was…”

“Report you?” The masculine tone scoffed, a hand falling to your shoulder. “I was worried I’d never get a chance like this… you made it so easy, how’d you get in? The window?”

“...Yeah.” You sheepishly replied, looking up at your captor. “It’s not as easy as it looks.”

Oh shit. That was Elijah right in front of you. In the flesh, pretty pearly teeth grinning only inches away from your face as his hand rested on your left shoulder, gently massaging it.

“Is your head okay? I feel bad but.. I wasn’t thinking, could only think about how to keep you here.”

Keep you here? Oh no, does that mean the police are on their way??

“Now.. I don’t have to worry about sending people out to your apartment anymore.. No more security cameras, no more blackmail… just you.” He stroked the side of your cheek that was inflamed from falling against the floor. “Damn. I thought i’d have to go through the trouble of taking you in the middle of the night, I had just sent my driver out for my tools too- but, looks like that’s not even an issue anymore!”

Well, sounds like your fears about the cops was no where near the truth. But now, you were even more confused. Taking you? Stalking? Blackmail? It almost felt like you were listening to yourself talk for a second.

Behind the dark glare covering his eyes, you could see Elijah’s trademark dimples, his pinkish lips covering the slight overbite he had, constantly showing off his front few teeth. You knew those downturned eyes were there somewhere, even with their shine dulled by the shadows of what looked to be a dark cellar around you.

His hair was unkempt, thick, dark strands covering his ears and going so far to the base of his neck. Wow, you had never seen him look so scruffy, even when watching from outside, seeing him brush his teeth in shirtless pajamas. He looked worried, shirt untucked and pants wrinkled as he ran a hand through his hair.

“And I’m sorry to say.. But don’t even think about trying to run away now. I made up my mind long ago, and if I find out that--”

“Urk, I wasn’t planning on it. I saw, the uh, dedication board. Or, shrine?”

At that, Elijah stopped. His baby blue eyes went wide for a moment, forgetting that was where he originally found you until now.

You hid your head down in discomfort.

“I have the same one…of you, in my apartment… in a box under my bed. There’s even a piece of hair from middleschool that I c..ut, from you.” You held back a nauseous gag at the admission. But here you were, this was your chance to prove how much you loved him, how much dedication you put towards understanding his every move, every like and dislike, the intricacies of his family history. “Do you know why I was in your room?” You asked, wondering if he already had seen your worship blog.

Elijah took a step back, lowering to sit on a pulled out fold-up chair across from you. His knees touched yours, still dressed in his black slacks and matching loafers, rolled up sleeves on his cream-colored button up that showed he had taken liberties to get more comfortable for the night.

“I’ll be honest I hadn’t contemplated that… just about how perfect of a chance it was, that you-- my uh, small, obsession since fifth grade.. Was here.” He looked down, a small red tint creeping from his cheeks to the rest of his face. He was bright crimson, like a kid again confessing to his crush behind the bleachers. “But you remember me?? From so long ago? I can’t… Its hard to imagine, i’ve been watching you for years and thought you had completely forgotten about me.”

“Are you kidding?” You watched Elijah rub his eyes, trying to hide his face behind his knuckles. “You’re all over the news, even if I wanted to avoid you. But I haven’t stopped following your every move since, I can’t remember. Every house change, new school, shopping trip with your mother… anytime I was free I dedicated it to watching you, or my--”

You cut yourself off, stepping one foot off into the deep end on a subject you desperately wanted kept hidden.

“If I knew any better I’d say you sound like a bit of a stalker.” Elijah tried to hide his grin behind his hand, leaning forward to get a closer look at you. “What were you going to say?”

“My…blog.”

“Blog?” He parroted.

“It’s a…. Dedication blog. To you.”

“Oh, like an obsessed fan?” He jeered, laughing with bright teeth as he braced his shaking from on his knee. “Don’t tell me-- you snuck in here for content to your blog?”

“No-! Well, yes. But some of it was going in my private stash…” You pouted, knowing you’d never get that chance again now that you’ve been discovered. Your days of fawning were going to come to a close.

“So you must be the one who keeps finding a way to get pictures when I never see any reporters around. By, breaking into my home.”

“That sounds really bad.. But I promise I wasn’t going to try to steal, or hurt you!”

That only made him laugh harder.

“I can’t… can’t believe I never saw you..” He wheezed, face flushed as you sat rotting in embarrassment and shame. “I had drivers chase after you for hours when you disappeared-- but you were five steps behind me the entire time!”

Drivers… your brain clicked two and two together as he tried to stop from giggling while hunched over.

“...Drivers?” You question. No way this is what yout thought it was.”So you’ve been spying on me?”

“Don’t sound so offended, little stalker,” He settled down, a permanent smile still on his mouth as he dragged the steel chair somehow closer. “ You’ve been hard to catch, but i’ve been keeping tabs on you, as unseemingly as it is. I couldn’t do it myself but I wanted to make sure you were, okay. Before it was safe to bring you home. Though I had nothing to fear about you forgetting me at all!”

You swallowed, mouth having gone back to a dry desert as you contemplated what this all meant. YOUR Elijah was spying on you in your home? Sending out underlings to watch and make sure you were safe? The man who you’d lay your life down for? You fantasized, imagining him at your window, you-- freshly out of the shower…

“What do you mean by home? You don’t mean.. Here, in the estate, right?”

Elijah observed you so fully, it made you nervous. He had never given someone this much attention in interviews, nonetheless in the photos and videos you managed to snap of him alone. And he was looking at you, with those eyes.

You didn’t know how much longer you could take it. Smelling his sandalwood with his knees pressing against yours, his finely ironed shirt toned against him-- right here, in the flesh. You always thought you’d be at a distance, never able to come in contact with him.. And now, you were tied up in his family’s wine cellar.

“Of course my darling. Where else? I can’t possibly send you back to that dungeon of an apartment. And you,” He stood, intent on coming closer. “Came in so willingly, huh? Didn’t think you’d return my love so… earnestly.”

“W-well who said anything about staying?” You sputtered, looking at his eyes glower in an exceedingly dark fashion. “I mean…. You love me? I’d accepted I’d never be seen by you but… you’ve been watching, the entire time?”

He stood up from his chair with a slight creak, causing your neck to strain upwards to look at him. A small touch caressed the end of your chin, his finger smoothening as it lifted your head to meet his gaze.

He hummed, Elijah’s eyes full of an expression you’ve never seen him wear before. Something in the mix of a sentimental possession, and a lover. But it was so tender, you couldn’t look away. It was so safe, so familiar. You recognized that look in the mirror, visible in your own eyes when you planted kisses on his printed photo taped to your vanity.

“Haven’t been able to keep you off my mind since you plucked that leaf off of my spoiled head. Love doesn’t even begin to describe it. I need, you.”

His gaze was so genuine, your eyes soothed by the glazed over grin he gave you, leaning down to hunch on his knees to be closer to you.

“I…” You breathed, wondering if this was a dream. “I’ve wanted you to see me.. for so long. Is this real?”

You stopped working. There was no chance that he had been watching you, wondering and waiting for you to recognize him, when you were longing for his attention, having convinced yourself long ago you’d only be able to possess him from a distance.

Soft fingers that hadn’t worked a day in their lives creeped up your knees, Elijah’s face only inches away as his eyelids lowed, looking sultry as he watched you squirm.

“I pray it’s not.” He exhaled.

“...Well, I’m not staying tied up in this chair, no matter how much you beg. Though… I can’t say I’d mind staying with you. Being with you.. Here, together.”

“Good. It wasn’t really a matter of choice, anyway.” He grinned, pressing a slow kiss to your cheek.

You involuntarily hummed in content, pressing closer to his lips as you arched out of the chair, longing to touch his warm body. He was kissing you; somebody get you out of these ropes before you jump the man.

Elijah couldn’t help but grin like a maniac, drugged on the way you relished his touch and pressed your chest forward to him. He rushed kisses to your chin, bites to your ear and licks to your neck with a groan.

But a sudden stop brought your blissfully closed eyes to an open.

“I’m sorry… want you too much, it’s getting to the better of me.”

“I’m not sorry,” You mumble, hoping that if this was a dream, you wouldn’t ever wake up. “Please, don’t stop.. I’ve killed for this, don’t stop now.”

“You tempt me too much,” He chuckles, gripping the sides of your chair seat to stablize himself leering over you. “So lucky you were my little creepy stalker, and no one else’s. Wouldn’t be able to control myself otherwise.”

“Stalker, murderer of your old lovers… I have many names.” You joked, but the bitterness on your tongue remembering those placeholders you got rid of was sour.

“Many talents, too.” Elijah’s eyebrows furrowed. “You’re the one that caused my fiances to dissapear? I wondered how they kept doing that,” He looked keenly, seeing right through your little ‘joke’. “Even I couldn’t shoo my mothers’ arranged partners away.”

You tried to look away, embarrassment showing on the way you bit your lips clean and your heartbeat wrapped. “I did it in your name…. I couldn’t stand them thinking they were worth being so close and casual with you! It was infuriating every time I saw it I-- I just couldn’t take it anymore. Even if it meant I’d never have you.”

Elijah buried himself in your hair, holding you tight. The squeeze was so personable, hungry and desperate to hold all of you.

“You have me now, you have me completely. I want you-- what a favor you have done, and you hadn’t even known.”

It felt so good, praised for such hard and hateful work you carried out. Their bodies were mangled, your rage manifesting in the corpses buried under the old golf course near your dingy apartment complex-- and he was happy you did it. Oh, you wanted to hold him, to smell him fully. These binds were stopping you from caressing the lover, the dream you had fantasized holding you to sleep so often, spooning the jackets and dresshirts of his musk in replacement for comfort.

Elijah still snickered in your ear, playing with the tips of your hair.

“But now, I have to see this blog. I’m too curious-- though I can’t say seeing it will help my small obsession for you. A stalking blog-- too cute.”

You were still so shameful of it, now that he brought it up. You didn’t want your soulmate to see the virtual shrine you had dedicated to him, your unseemly thoughts and hungry urges that were far too detailed and graphic to be shared with their perpetrator. But what choice did you have? He’d find it, one way or another.

“F..fine. But you’d you atleast untie me now? My arms are getting sore.”

That seemed to cease his light-hearted expression, frowning against your skull as he inhaled the sweet scent of your hair. It was the same as he remembered, now a decade later.

“You’re not gonna try to leave, are you?” He murmured, caressing pinching your ear with a light tone. But something dangerous was held behind it. It was frightening.. But oh, as if the possessiveness didn’t fuel how much more your insides craved him.

“Do you think I’d really try to go anywhere? Not when you’re so accessible to me now.” You looked over. Elijah’s lashes looked so long up close, sweetly deadpanned eyes watching as if you were being tested, hunted.

He seemed to find your answer appealing, getting up and pulling something out of his back pocket. Leaning down once more, you saw the switchblade bobbing between his hands, a pretty and simple hunting blade. He leaned over you, pressing it against the knot above your wrists.

You focused on feeling for the blade as to not get cut, only for your attention to be pulled back to the spoiled one-percenters lips pressing yours directly. It was a shock, more than anything. You wished you had seen it coming, wish you had been better prepared to share your first kiss with your darling!

Elijah left your mouth nowhere to run as he pressed up against you, fervidly ensnaring your lips between his.

You gladly accepted the pull away for a second kiss, leaning up as much as you could while hiding your desperation. He was so soft, lips gentle and big as they enveloped your bitten ones.

“Sorry,” Elijah broke away slowly, not straying far. “I’ve wanted to do that for ages.” You watched his eyes stare wonders at your lips, fingers brushing against your trapped ones from behind as the task at hand was forgotten.

“Me too.” You uttered, pulling forward to kiss him again with an open, insatiable mouth.

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munsster · 11 months ago

Text

road trip (trope bingo)

A/N: thought i might try this format out. also introducing a new face to my tumblr repertoire. i’ve written marvel before, just never on this site. enjoy!! (gif creds: @bubbarnes)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: You think Bucky is shallow for rejecting a pretty stranger in North Dakota. Little do you know. 1.6k words

Warnings: fluff, dummies not talking about their feelings, pet names (doll), slight angst but resolved, perhaps mutual pinging, a really good hug, playful bullying, cursing

"Ooh, she's cute."

You've been doing this for over an hour. He's downed at least four coffees by now. And the worst part is you call it finding a suitable mate. But he's just not interested in the women you're scouting for him at a rest stop a few miles out from Fargo, North Dakota. He would've just left, gone and sat in the truck, but he'd feel bad leaving you rambling to yourself when you're the one paying for this meal.

"Come on, Buck, you're no fun," you huff, dropping your spoon into the thick mug now emptied of hot cocoa.

"You're right. Can we go now?" He starts to slide out of his seat when you scoff. He goes still like a deer in headlights. This should be fun.

"James Buchanan, you're telling me none of the lovely ladies in this diner tickle your fancy? Not even third barstool? She's tall, Buck, like... model tall," you suggest with your brows raised.

"I'm not... we're in North Dakota, you think that's what I'm lookin' for?"

"Just one date! You wouldn't take her on one, single date? The little bar across the street seems sensible, why not?"

"Um—"

"Tell meee," you whine, leaning over the sticky, vinyl tablecloth with a pout.

He shrugs. "Not my type."

"Bullshit. She's everybody's type. She's my type, Bucky. Are you blind or just plain stupid?"

"I'm not interested."

You pull a face like you're offended on her behalf. Bucky rolls his eyes and wishes you'd drop it.

"Oh, I get it," you say. Leaned back, arms stretched across the length of the seat, you huff and glare at him. "You think you're too good for her, huh? Just 'cause she's a North Dakota ten, and you're a Brooklyn eight, you think that makes you better, don't you?"

"What? An eight?" he mumbles, shaking his head.

"Ugh, you men gross me out sometimes. Massive egos, teensy little brains," you say, slapping a twenty on the table and standing with a vicious squint. "Well, let me learn you something, James"—you loom over him and poke your pointer finger at his chest—"you're shallow, and you're no better than her. You prob'ly couldn't take her out if you wanted to. Goodnight."

You huff and walk away, but he chuckles and calls after you: "It's noon, doll." Flipping him off, you march out into the parking lot. He considers the woman for a moment. You called him a Brooklyn eight. She's pretty, he'll admit, but he wasn't lying when he said he wasn't interested. Bucky's seen the far stretches of the Earth, which means he's seen women of all forms. Accountants and soldiers from all over, all professions, all languages. All beautiful. But nothing intrigues him quite as much as you do.

...

"Did you ask her out, or are you choosing to remain a coward?" You've got your boots propped on the dashboard, the truck bumbling eighty down the highway. An emery board swipes back and forth at your middle fingernail as you snap your bubblegum.

"Come on, doll, play nice. We're leavin' anyway, didn't want to hurt her feelings," he grumbles.

"Tough. Doesn't make you any less of a pussy, Barnes."

You flick the nail file at his cheek and drop your feet heavily on the hot car mat. You called him a Brooklyn eight. You cringe at the remembrance while Bucky revels in it. He even grinned stupid all the way back to the parking lot. To himself, but still. He hates how deep under his skin you are. He hates how he likes the itch.

His tongue twists with all the things he could have said. He should have said. But he grips the steering wheel tight and drives till you cross the border into Minnesota.

"Wanna go anywhere before Wisconsin? They've got... lakes here," he shyly suggests, voice soft, hoping you'll just ignore him and turn up the radio. He doesn't think you'll ever ignore him, even if he did prefer it.

"Only if I could push you into one of them."

"Listen, kid—"

"Kid? That's great, Bucky. It's getting dark, why don't we just find a motel." You cross your arms. The cold is getting to you. Even in a down jacket and two pairs of pants. It gets like that up north.

He does what you tell him because the last thing he needs is for you to hold another grudge against him. This one's quaint, so he gets the last double available, chuckling nervously when the older woman at the front desk mistakes you for a married couple.

"Sure you don't want a single, honey? Not gettin' any kids outta separate beds—"

"Nope—thanks, miss—that's—double is fine, double's perfect, thanks," he huffs. You chuckle.

She gives a rolling, belly laugh, head tossed back as she croaks, "Won't file any noise complaints against youse! Have a fun night."

"Geez, she was great," you sigh, still smiling from the ridiculous interaction. You flop face down onto the bed closest to the window, rattling the ice from the crevices in your boots. It crunches to the floor and you wriggle out of your coat as Bucky locks himself into the pale yellow bathroom.

He starts mumbling from the other side of the door, so you sit up and toe your boots onto the floor with a thud. Digging your fingertips into the edge of the hastily tucked sheets, you stare at a wine stain in the middle of the beige carpet. At least it smells nice in here. Even if half the lights are out, and cable doesn't come through clear enough to watch.

You find yourself, cheek pressed to the door, eyes wide as you listen through the flimsy wood.

"I don't think so, Steve. No, listen, it's like... beyond repair. She wouldn't take an apology even if I knew what i was sorry for—no—she's way too good for me, I can't do that to her."

Still moping over women found in North Dakota's lowest rated diners? That's highly unlike him. But even Bucky's a wildcard six-thousand miles into a roadtrip. You press closer, chewing your lip and closing your eyes.

"No, no, everything—this stuff's easier for you, pal, you don't get it, 'kay? I'm just saying... I mean, even a stranger thought we were married"—What—"has to mean something, right? Even strangers are realizing... there's something... there. I just don't want to accidentally—no, I know, not like that, I mean...well, I like her a lot and I don't want it to scare her—"

You back up slightly, hands held in front of you like surrender. Not out of fear, but realization. That's why he didn't ask her out. Or even fish for her number. Because—

You hit the floor with a thump.

"Steve. I gotta go."

The door whips open and floods the room with warm light. You scramble to your feet.

"Were you... I was just talking to... Did you hear any of that?"

You shake your head. He shoves his hands into the shallow pockets of his jeans.

"Okay," he says with a nod, "good." He blows hot air out of his mouth and runs a swift hand through his hair. But he doesn't meet your eyes. Like a little kid so terrified of fibbing that he'd rather swim deeper into the abyss than float to the surface. Can't catch his damn breath around here.

"So..."

"Goodnight, Bucky!" you chirp, turning on your heel with a whoosh of air. And he stops you in your tracks, hand on your bicep. You don't turn back around, stuck staring at the foot of your bed.

"Doll," he whispers, roped up by fear and a pinch of self-pity. Attending his own funeral with a sick smile on his face. "Just how much did you hear."

You spin on the balls of your feet, going hot in the face, fueled by the electricity at his fingertips. "A lot."

"Oh."

You nod and try your best non-psychotic smile. "Sorry."

"No, no... don't be," he says, trying his own. So you're just a couple of smirking idiots at a stalemate in a stale motel room. A couple of idiots with feelings for each other. Unresolved feelings. Unspoken, too.

"I actually—could I?" You point behind him into the cramped bathroom, and he lets go of you like it's his last move before you put him in check. Before he has to hand you the game. Though, he'd do that in a heartbeat. Every game of his is yours. "Thanks."

"No problem." He shuts his eyes when you close the door with a calculated tenderness. Like you don't want to frazzle his poor heart.

But then why would you open the door again? Why would you wrap your arms around his waist and nuzzle into his back? Why would you make it all so much worse and spread your fingers over his abdomen, taking a deep breath when he runs his hand down your forearm and turns to face you. Then you melt with his strong arms holding you thisclose.

"Like you a lot, too, Barnes. You're just a big dunce a lot of the time. But that's like... half the draw or whatever," you mumble into his shoulder. And you've never been this close, and he thinks he could pass out. Become a chalk outline in a dusty motel in Minnesota. But if it happened like this, he'd be okay with that statistic.

marvel masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfic #marvel fanfic #marvel #x reader #fluff #tropes #road trip #bucky barnes x fem!reader #x fem!reader #bucky barnes trope bingo

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livfastdieyoung69 · 1 month ago

Note

OMG THE MOODBOARD MADE ME FERAL.

GIVE ME A HEEL READER X FACE CODY AND HE SUPPORTS READERS RIGHTS AND WRONGS.

I love cody im bawling hes so pretty

(current!cody rhodes x heel!reader, warning red hot bat shit diva incoming)

(the mood board in question)

Beautiful, Violent, Vulgar

Now, you love Cody. Truly, with everything in you. But he’s too nice sometimes. Along with everything else about him, you love Cody’s compassion for the people surrounding him, but he was genuinely kind to every single person he’d ever met.

Every here and there, you tell him that. He just kind of scoffs it off though, considering your reputation of being an asshole to everyone except him (most of the time).

This new annoying ass version of John Cena trying to prove it though? That pissed you off. What pissed you off even more was the ‘proof’ he gave in his last WrestleMania match.

You had a deep, terrible gut feeling that Cody was going to lose. The two of you tell eachother everything, and he had told you the same thing in the quiet of your bedroom the night prior. You would’ve been okay with it if it was fair, however, all of this with Travis Scott was bullshit. Nothing in your entire lifetime of constant bitching and discourteous actions, could have made you angrier than the disrespect put on the one person in the world that not only you could stand, but that could stand you.

The second the ref counted to three, you flew down to the Guerrilla and tried your best not to pick any fights in the mean time. That could wait until after you knew Cody was okay.

He looked completely defeated, and it broke your heart worse than you thought it would. When Cody finally looks up, his eyes immediately lock on you. The two of you rush to eachother, the tall man folding into your embrace.

“Baby…” You pull him tighter, hand curling in his short, bleached locks, the other around his back.

“I told you,” He shakes his head against you. “I told you.”

“Codes,” You pull him up a little so you were face to face. “You’ll get it back. I swear to God you’ll get it back. The only thing you proved out there is you are too good of a man to let bottom dwelling, filthy, middle aged, Hollywood sellouts manipulate you into changing.”

He scoffs, shaking his head but you keep talking.

“That’s what he is, Cody.” You nod. “And I know you used to love him, but that was when he was a wrestler, and a good man. He is not the good man he used to be, and if he needs Rihanna’s husband to get in your face then clearly he isn’t a good fucking wrestler either.” Your voice is growing with anger, so you take a quick breath and pull yourself together. “We can talk about that later. Are you okay? No injuries?”

He nods again, lips curling in the smallest smile, but the biggest one you’d seen just about all day.

“Just sore, that’s all.” You hum at his answer, rubbing up and down his sides before you pull your hands back. “I just- I just want to get out of here.”

You’re quick to lead him to the bus, running into Cathy Kelley who you might’ve yelled at for a quick seconds after Cody basically ran up the bus’ steps. Oops. You’ll give her an offhand apology through a gift card, maybe flowers, or something later, you know Paul put her up to it. Speaking of, you needed to have some words with him.

When you clamber up the steps of the RV and find Cody sitting at the cramped table with his eyes shut and his head against the wall behind him, all bruised and bloodied, the last teensy bit of self restraint you’d managed to keep leaves you. You will be having those words with Paul, now.

“Left my water bottle back in Guerrilla, baby, i’m gonna go grab it before we take off.” You’re already shoving the door open again, yelling that you’ll be right back over your shoulder while you speed walk through the background of Cathy’s screen time. You didn’t leave your water bottle, it was sitting right next to Cody. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice for a bit.

You’re storming through the Guerrilla like a lunatic, screaming for Paul at any passing person. Some staff member ran off the scene and grabbed his attention from the social media directors, creative team, press conference, and every other thing you could imagine and he’s rounding the corner with furrowed eyebrows under the reading glasses he didn’t get the chance to take off. Paul sighs, and his eyes close when he sees you. He says your name, riddled in pure exhaustion. You don’t care.

“No.” You stick your hand out. “What in the absolute fuck was that.”

“You know how this business works,” He tells you, attaching your name to it with the shake of his head like you’re some petulant child with no reasoning behind their argument. “He had to lose it eventually.”

“That’s absolutely not what i’m talking about and you know that. You make him lose, I don’t give a fuck, he’s still the best damn man in this place without a belt. But that bullshit with Scott was embarrassing. For this company, for Cody, for, and I couldn’t care less about him, but for Cena.” He tries to interrupt you again, and you shove the hand you’d been waving around back in his face. “I know you’re money hungry, Paul, but that was a fucking disgrace.”

He lets silence blanket over, the rest of the staff in the Guerrilla finally taking the hint to leave while he gathers his thoughts.

“I’ve known you for a very long time, kid.” He finally manages to start. “I know you’re very opinionated and you aren’t afraid to stand up for yourself. But I am your boss, and you can’t speak to me like that.”

“Oh, cmon, Paul,” You roll your eyes. “How many times have you threatened to fire me, huh? It’s not gonna happen. We both know that. I’m trying to bring light to the problems this company has with you running it- and you want nothing but money. Everything is a goddamn marketing scheme now, and it’s disgusting.” Stephanie rounds the corner, standing next to Paul just as you decide you’ve had enough and start to turn around.

“What’s going on here?”

“You and your husband are greedy moneybags running this company into the fucking ground!”

You hadn’t planned for all of this. All you’d wanted was to throw a couple back handed compliment around, but here you are, screaming at your bosses because you can’t help yourself, when all you want to do is get back out of the stadium to Cody.

Paul yells from behind the curtain of the Guerrilla you’d just torn through about how that was your second strike. This was your third second strike of the year, Paul really liked the idea that he had the ability to get your attitude managed with the threat of firing you. Usually, you would have rolled your eyes, maybe scoffed, and kept walking. Today, though?

Today, you may not have forgotten your water bottle, but Tiffany Stratton did, and it’s right there in all of its clunky, big-ass, bright pink, metal, Stanley cup glory. You pick it up and chuck it back through the curtain and against the wall behind him and Stephanie.

“You want to fire me, Paul? Do it! Do it!” You burst back through the curtain. “There’s your media reason.” You point to broken cup, spilling ice water everywhere on the ground. You’d buy Tiffy a new one, you were actually pretty good friends. “See where this company goes when we leave again. Back in the fucking trash.”

With your grand finale, Shawn Michaels steps in from behind you to gently lead you from the room. Though you may get on Paul’s nerves, you reminded Shawn a lot of his younger self. He was on drugs though, you’re just kind of bat shit. You finally start the dash back to the RV with no interference, walking back up the steps and plopping into the seat across from Cody with heavy breath.

He’s staring you with raised eyebrows and the gleam in his eyes tells you he’s trying not to smile. His big, veiny hand is spinning your water bottle on the table.

“What’d you do?” He tilts his head up, a tiny smile breaking through. You shrug.

“Nothing to worry about.”

“Did you get another strike?”

“…Maybe.”

I had absolutely no plans of doing this rn it’s so late but i miss cody so much

this is probably pretty bad i wrote it laying in bed on my phone im sorry </3

#liv writes;*!#wwe x reader #cody rhodes #cody rhodes x reader

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justafreakonline · 21 days ago

Text

Who let her get the mic?

Summary: you get the mic and it’s pure chaos. And she’s flirting with any women in sight

pairings: UConn wbb x reader (platonic), Morgan x reader (romantic

You had no chill ever. The definition of chalant. Nonchalant feared you at this point. Maybe that’s why you and KK got along so well.

After mic’d up KK went to well the media was like why would you go just as good? Big mistake. KK is funny because of her reactions and sayings. You’re funny cause you’re a freak to your friends…and to be fair yourself. No one loved you as much as you did.

But even with everyone telling the media team it was a recipe for disaster you still got to record “Y/n at practice.”

“Baddie B number 3 at the mic. Hey ladies” you say winking at the camera as you walked into the gym. You wore a baby blue compression shirt, with white and black basketball shorts, back pack slung over your shoulder and silver and cross chain dangling from your neck “…and uh gentlemen too I guess”

____

“So basically after everyone requests I’m here on the mic. Be grateful.” You said as you walked towards the locker room “Hi Coach.”

“Hello y/n.” He said unimpressed walking by and shaking his head.

“Geno is a teensy bit mad at me cause I was at his house chatting up Queen Kathy until midnight. I can’t help that the ladies love me. Love you Kathy.” You said blowing a kiss at the camera “See you Tuesday”

____

“Ooh I’m looking mighty fine today,” you said looking in the mirror “I been putting in the work for this dump truck”

“Girl there ain’t nothing there.” Paige said rolling her eyes from her chair. You shot her a glare and the looked at the camera with a deadpan stare.

“Yall Paige a hater she just jealous cause I get more bitches.” You look over at Morgan who had an eye brow raised “I mean a very beautiful, kind ,intelligent girlfriend. Love you Morgan”

“I still get more bitches than Paige.” You whispered. “Only people who want her ass exist on the internet.”

____

“Ooo Icy you lookin good baby.” You said as ice entered the room, you laid on the floor on your back with your legs up on the wall. “lemme hit?”

“Ask politely.” She smirked walking over to her locker.

“May I hit it please Isuneh?”

____

“Yall look at Morgan she’s so baddie.” The camera panned over to where Morgan was tying her shoes on. “Oh wait hell nah. That’s my girl yall stay away I know how to fight a bitch”

You jumped in front of the camera pulling it back to look at you. You looked the camera up and down.

“Desperate hoes.”

____

“Yall see how flexible I am? It’s so Morgan can bend me like a pretzel” you said as you stretched before practice, keep In mind you barely reached your toes.

“Have you ever tried this one?” You said trying to hit the splits and falling over “ow.”

____

You were doing a drill and you and Paige tripped over eachother landing on top of eachother.

“Ooo this is intimate. Cut the cameras me and Paige aboutta get nasty.”

“No we are not.”

____

“Bro these practice jerseys are making my throat is so itchy.” Sarah told you as she scratched her neck.

“I can scratch it from the inside”

“What does that even mean?”

“I’ll scratch it with my-“

____

“Yall KK is so bricked right now. She can’t make shit” you smirked at your own shot as you t run to get the 5th shot that KK bricked.

“KK if you brick a shot off the back board one more time I’m gonna bend you over”

“Jokes on you I’d like that.” She smiled catching the ball as you passed it back.

____

“Ooh look at Aubrey’s new hair. I’d let her get me pregnant” Aubrey froze looking at you.

“Y/n… we’re both girls.”

“Shh sugar just sit there and look pretty”

____

“Morgan let me get on your shoulders so I can dunk.” Morgan bends down allowing you to climb onto her shoulder making it easy for you to reach the rim. “Yall this wasn’t the only time Morgan was between my thighs this week”

“I’m gonna kill you.” She said her face burning red.

“Kinky”

____

You stood in front of the mirror again mid-practice, shirt halfway lifted.

“Y’all ever just admire the results of three crunches and a prayer?” Jana passed by behind you rolling her eyes.

“Girl put your shirt down.” She complained smacking the back of your head.You didn’t blink.

“You’re just mad my body is so tea the British came back. Where my waist? They don’t know”

____

“KK you smell like ten cans of bounce that ass,” you said fanning your nose.

“Y/n you smell like desperation.”

“Exactly. It’s my signature scent. Available at Sephora under Please Love Me by Y/n.”

____

Ayanna was icing her knee. You plopped down next to her.

“You know what’s crazy? We used to be enemies. Now I’d let you hit.” Ayanna stared blankly at you.

“I’ve never hated you more than right now.”

____

You threw a towel across the room and it hit Ice in the face.

“Bro I swear on my life, you got one more time,” she said, standing up.

“You threatening me with violence is lowkey the most attention I’ve gotten all week. Do it again but slower.”

____

You saw Geno walking by.

“Coach said I need to take practice seriously. I said I take my girlfriend seriously. Pick your battles, King.”

____

Aubrey walked by in a fresh fit. You let out a dramatic gasp.

“Why are you dressed like you have a sugar daddy?”

“Y/n. No.I don’t.”

“Good. Because I wanna be him. Lemme pay your rent, Aubs.”

____

“Hey. Hey Paige you like my balls?” You said holding up two basketballs that you were supposed to be used to practice ball handling.

“If you had real ones I’d kick you so hard that you couldn’t reproduce. The world will never be ready for two of you.”

“Have ever told you I’m a twin?”

“Oh nah man.”

____

“I’m so sweaty.” Morgan said whipping the sweat from her forehead.

“I’m thirsty. I guess that works out well.”

____

“So coach how is Kathy?”

“Y/n please stop talking about my wife and focus on practice.”

____

“Okay this is me signing off. If I said anything wild today, no I didn’t. If you got offended, that’s between you and the Lord.”

____

“Y/n were never letting you get mic’d up again.” The editor told you as he finished the video.

“Nah just you wait the fans will love this shit” you smirked leaning back in your chair

“We are so getting sued.” He said uploading the video

🎤 “Mic’d Up: Y/n at Practice (why did we let her speak 😭)”

Y/n mic’d up for ONE practice and now HR wants to speak with us. Featuring her girlfriend Morgan, eternal enemy Paige, and too many [redacted] moments.

#CollegeBasketball #MicUpMadness #Y/nYoureDone #FreeKK #MorganYoureASaint

Top Comments:

paigebuckets003 |

“Y’all Paige a hater she just jealous cause I get more bitches” — she SAID THAT WITH HER WHOLE CHEST 😭😭😭

official.womenstalk|

Y/n being 80% delusion, 20% athletic ability, 100% entertaining and 200% freak is girl math

morgancheli|

I love you but please delete this before my grandma sees it 🙃

kkslanderpage |

“KK if you brick one more time I’m gonna bend you over” is why this video is evidence in a court case now.

theiceage| they don’t even react when y/n says stuff anymore. That’s how you know they’ve seen shit.

aubreycurlzfan8|

Y/n seeing Aubrey’s new hair and immediately offering to get pregnant is PEAK SIMP BEHAVIOR. I support women.

coachaurie_sighs|

The “Hi Coach” / “Hello Y/n” / aggressive disappointment exchange sent me into orbit. Geno deserves a raise.

user1828 |

Y/n: says something sexual

Team: 😐

Y/n: “love you Morgan <3”

Morgan: visibly considers transferring

benchmobwives|

“I been putting in work for this dump truck” baby you couldn’t touch your toes 😭😭😭

Paigeshairgel |

Paige TRULY had enough of Y/n. She looked at the camera like she was on The Office 💀

morgansangel88|

Y/n really be saying the wildest things and then going “Love you Morgan” like that makes it less illegal

User2828|

This felt like a mix between a sports vlog and a sapphic thirst trap documentary. 10/10 would watch again.

Fan100827 |

This is why straight people shouldn’t be allowed in women’s basketball spaces. Y/n out here stealing girlfriends and souls 😭

User881 |

Y/n’s whole vibe is “suspended but not sorry.”

#paige bueckers #kk arnold #nika muhl #morgan cheli #uconn wbb #inês bettencourt #caitlin clark #morgan cheli x reader #uconn women’s basketball #wlw

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