#im a prisoner in my own room. fuck.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

My boss: Heya - are we going to meet this week or am I going to lose u to the abyss of science completely?

#me from the bottom of a deep pit: science who? i dont kno her. im trapped in a prison of my own creation #im just v tired this week. that tends to happen when i dont have way way too much to do. which indicates to me depression #i did lug 2 35lb cases 5min down the road and completely destroy the sides of my legs tho #like the bruises look fucking insane and theyre weirdly on the outside of my legs lmao #and idk i did some coding nonsense and organized some data stuff. meh #my fic is around 8.5k and its really annoying bc i want it to be finished so i can eject the ideas from my head #and rant about it bc i just have a lot of feelings #uuuugh its 10.30 and i need to organize the things i need to talk to my boss abt tomorrow #hahaha im so tried. i started to type: god bless the machines i sent. hope they make it safely #ive reverted to the logic my religious 10yr old self #tbh i wouldn't have praid for something like that. i had a long lost of prayers wishing that people would not get sick and die #and i said it every night as i worried what would happen to me when i left my parents house for college #i remember thinking that in my sisters room so it would have been before middle school. so like 10 or younger. why tf was i so worried #abt that? idk i also used to get v upset abt missing my mum in elementary school #anyway this has been a recovered memory i guess #unrelated

[ajxrn]

mom is only letting me have my phone until 10:30 so ive got an hour .

#rant #shes being so controlling lately and i genuinely cant handle it and I feel like my every move is being watched #I dont have any privacy . at all #I cant shut my bedroom door bc knob is broken and she wont fix it. I cant use my phone around her bc she asks what im doing who im texting #She constantly comes in my room to see what I’m “up to” as if im doing bad shit #I have zero fucking privacy it makes me feel sick. I wouldnt be shocked if she ended up installing a camera in my room at one point #Fuck im gonna be 16 this year and i feel like a prisoner in my own house #“You need to leave the house” UOU DONT FUCKING LET ME!!!!I HAVE TO STAY AND WATCH THE DOGS AND SHIT WHEN YOU LEAVE!!!

[immaterial-girl]

why is there RUSTLING in my room every night. its 2am and im going to set myself on fire

#its a new house (4 me) and besties…i dont like the sound of this #like it honestly sounds like noises my dog might make late at night. no breathing or padding but just small things RUSTLING #the options are: its an old house and its nothing and im being dramatic #its a fucking MOUSE all up in my SHIT which sucks bc my room is still covered in moving in crap #or its like. ungodly huge bugs knocking into shit or chewing on the walls or smth #ok i swear to GOD i just heard SCRATCHING i am feeling it is more and more likely a mouse by the SECOND #i havent seen it yet but mannn FUCK THIS #there was a mouse at our old place and it terrorized us for months til we finally got it :( #thank god this room has a fan so theres SOME white noise but. idk how i am going to sleep in peace yall there are SOUNDS #i hate sleeping w a fan but now i have to on high so it isnt DEAD QUIET #also i wake up with itchy bug bites every day. idk if thats related or just another indicator this room is cursed or bc it is august #but im fuckin TIRED of this yall im TIREDDTTT #except the problem is im not. bc i cant go to bed. bc im in a prison of my own design<3 #mine #rant

[bitchlessdino]

scream your heart out (m)

🔪pairing: fem!reader x seventeen (???) 🔪genre: horror, slasher, smut 🔪tags: DISCLAIMIER!!! MAY NOT SUIT MOST AUDIENCES, Graphic sexual and violent imagery color coded in pink, abrupt changes in text color, features/mentions members (Chan, Seungkwan, Wonwoo, Minghao, Seungcheol, Seokmin, Junhui, Soonyoung, Joshua), established relationships, scream au!seventeen, Hybristophilia, erotophonophilia, homicidophilia, graphic images, mention panic attacks, smoking, mentions disfigurement of faces, severed body parts, knives, guns, threatening phone calls, face masks (horror), knife wielding, blood, gore, death/murder, knife play, bloody handjobs, cum mixing with blood, consensual sex but nonconsensual murder, HONESTLY SOME REALLY FUCKED UP SHIT AND IM SORRY BUT YALL SHOULD BE READING THE WARNINGS, sexual innuendos, kitchen sex, daddy kink, unprotected sex, cream pies, cuck! (??) member, voyeurism, exhibitionism, breeding kink, PLS LET ME KNOW IF IM MISSING ANYTHING PLS 🔪word count: 6.8k 🔪summary: you and your friends get caught up in a classic horror slasher movie, only it's in real life. Now you're off to fend for yourselves in Seungcheol's million dollar home. The question is, did you keep them out, or did you just lock them in? 🔪author note: thank you @multi-kpop-fanfics and @wonwussy for beta reading for me <3. here's some of their notes “I’m scratching my face to not fucking scream” “WELL SHIT BRO WHAT THE FUCK” -Zeta “It definitely does capture that slasher essence” -SJ this was so fun yet mind numbing to write but this is way more extreme than anything I’ve ever written like I lost a lot of sanity writing this. FR one of the most fucked up things I’ve ever written. I hope it was worth it. ENJOY EVERYONE and even tho it came out late HAPPY HALLOWEEN

Ever since the murders over a week ago, everyone in town has been on edge. All including the individuals most closely involved.

You had lost three core members of your eight. 

Joshua, someone you’ve known since grade school who was sliced open from the back before being stabbed 8 times to the point of excessive bleeding. He had just gone out to walk his dog, the poor creature being the only reason they found his body at all. If not for the dog’s bloody paws, and the trail of blood they left behind finding help, Joshua’s cadaver would’ve lost deep in the woods.

And then Chan, your long-time boyfriend, was stabbed fifteen times in the chest. His face was so disfigured from obvious violence and what looked to be burn scars, that he was practically unrecognizable if not for the fact he died in his own home. Police are still looking for his severed arms and legs to this day with no luck.

And finally, Seungkwan, who hadn’t died but lost to the paranoia festering in his blood like a disease. That caused him to take the train to the furthest destination possible to attempt to escape death if at all possible, leaving the rest of you with only the reassuring texts he left in his wake.

All that was left was you, Seokmin, Seungcheol, Minghao, and Wonwoo; the core five.

“Okay, absolutely no one is leaving this house for the time being. Until the psycho is caught behind bars, dead, or whatever the fuck! We’re safe here.”

Seungcheol, the eldest, did just as expected: contacted the rest of you into a personal prison. Luckily, he was loaded. The prison happened to be six thousand square feet of space with countless rooms, amenities, and a housekeeper to boot. From the looks of it, it’s paradise, but it’s definitely a prison.

“Holy shit, you have an indoor basketball court?”

A prison with an indoor basketball court. And a pool apparently.

Seokmin wasted no time to enjoy these features, breaking out of his clothes and cannonballing in his underwear. If you knew any better, Seokmin didn’t even look like he went through any trauma at all. It looked like every other day for him.

“There's a murderer and you’re doing butterfly strokes?” You asked, baffled.

The golden man scoffed, reaching the edge of the pool and resting against it with his forearms. “What am I gonna do? Wallow, crying to my mom, worrying about dying, and not taking advantage of this gorgeous mansion we’re staying in?”

“Thank you, Seokmin,” Seungcheol grinned.

Seokmin winked back at him, “Of course, daddy.”

“How are you both so unserious about all this?”

Wonwoo left a kind hand against your shoulder, looking back at you with warm eyes and a small smile. “They’re grieving. Just in their own way.”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “They’re being ridiculous. We shouldn’t be here. We need to be at the police station or something.”

“You were there when I got the call. The creepy voice said no police or you all die. Remember?”

You shuddered, hands over your sides to relieve your chilled skin. “Of course I do, but we’re sitting ducks here. This isn’t any better. We need protection.”

It was Seungcheol’s turn to scoff then. He strutted in front of you, flaunting his wing span before flexing his arms and then crossing them over his chest. “Well, you have me.”

“And me,” Seokmin joined. “Pure muscle right here.”

“Maybe pure laughing gas, not sure about muscle. We’re actually living in a horror movie right now and you’re all making jokes.”

“Hey,” Wonwoo stroked your head as his soothingly deep voice serenaded you, “Don’t say that. We’ll make it out of here.”

His arms come around you, forearms pressed against your collarbones, and his chin crooked over your shoulder. “You have me too. I would run through that knife before it could get to you.”

You genuinely smile for the first time being there, your hand stroking over his embrace. Wonwoo delicately kissed the temple of your forehead, reminding you what it was like to be constantly adored.

You were grateful for what he had become in your life. Wonwoo had kept you company in your time of need. In the absence of Chan. He had come to your house with whatever he thought you might need, lent you his shoulder that you could cry on, lent his ears so that he could listen, lent his body that you could heal. In more ways than one.

“You’re right. You are.” You turned to face him, wrapping your arms around his body and meeting his eyes framed in specs of hard plastic. “You’re the first person I can sacrifice if we face them head to head.”

He mused at you. “Ooh, now look who’s pulling jokes.”

“Who said I was joking?”

“You two are disgustingly cute,” Minghao commented coming through the back door. “Horror movie rules: they get killed while having sex.”

You punched the new face right in the arm, watching him scurry away to your other friends laughing.

“Not funny, Hao.”

Minghao sneers at you, a jester smile still on his face. “Ease up, princess. Wonwoo, watch your girl.”

“Only because she’s so pretty to look at,” he briefly grinned down at you before directing his attention to Minghao sternly, “but come on. We’re all a little psyched right now. Cool it with the murder talk. Alright?”

Wonwoo pulled you aside into the dining area, ignoring the careless laughter outside. His thumb stroked against your knuckles, lips pressing sweetly against your cheeks. His grin sunk deeper in his cheeks the further he made it past your jaw and then down your neck. He felt your throat vibrate against his lips. “Wonwoo…”

“I can’t have all these guys get you heated like this. That’s my job,” he teased with a rasp.

You slightly pushed him off, your arms swung over his shoulders. “You’re so ridiculous right now.”

“Anything to put that smile on your face.”

His lips reconnected with your neck, nipping at your skin. His humming sent tingles down your spine, and he took your body to press you against the side of the counter. Your hands grasped his baggy shirt, lip close to his ear, fanning your breath against his face. You smiled like a girl in love. Obsessed.  “Daddy…”

“I love it when you call me that,” he mumbled, just as love-struck, if not more. Your giggles brought out the pink on Wonwoo’s ears and cheeks while tightening the groin of his pants. You noticed immediately, cupping it in your palm, and running your finger along the seam. Your eyes skimmed over his taken expression, leaning your full weight into him. “I know there’s something else you really love.”

“Do you now?”

You nodded, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “But do you really want to do it here? Risk getting caught?”

He leaned into your touch, allowing your fingers to take apart his pants. “Try new things right? Like you always say. Plus you’re scared. Gonna turn that fear into pleasure. Make you feel good, just what my baby deserves.”

“You're so good to me, Daddy,” you moaned.

His hand finds the hem of your shorts, pulling them down to expose yourself to the cold air. He fingered through your panties and slid two digits through your folds. He felt your breath hitch as he squeezed your clit, eliciting your soft whines. “You’re so wet down there, baby.”

“Just waiting for daddy to fuck me where anyone can find us and watch.”

Wonwoo eagerly pulled down his pants, kicking them and yours aside, but not without pocketing your underwear. He lifted you up slightly from the ground, his exposed cock hitting at your hip. “Look what you do to me.”

Your throat went dry at the sight of him, hand aching to wrap your hand around his girth and have him shoved inside you.

He didn’t let you wait a second long, and pushed in slowly inch by inch, burying himself in your pussy until he was nearly balls deep. You grasped his shoulder in a gasp, savoring the fire burning in your stomach. The girth of his cock stretched your molten walls, allowing them to melt all around his cock as he spread your legs. You writhe in his embrace, your limbs closing around his lean and toned build, already blissful from the few seconds of him being inside you.

Wonwoo’s words kissed your lips, flushed your skin, and left a permanent smile on your face. It swelled pride in his chest, better than any physical trophy would have. His hips slowly rolled against yours, letting you adjust to his size. He massaged the flesh of your side through his fingers, mentally reassuring himself you were his and his alone, but his names on your lips became more than proof.

Your hips buckled towards him in heat, matching his pace before the carnal side of him decided to fuck you like an animal. His cock then plunged sharply inside you, and then again, a whimper coming out of your lips. Your hips stuttered the harder he pounded, arching your back, you felt his hand above your ass, pushing you against him.

“Daddy…”

He lost control when it came to you, addicted—religious—the second your body came in contact with his. He loved how your fingers ran through his hair, not caring how his glasses fell off his face in the process. With drool out of the corner of his lips, he could feel the blood rush up to the surface of your skin, making him feel warm at home inside you. Throbbing, he only got harder feeling how perfectly snug you were, pricking his clammy skin with goosebumps as he bottomed out.

“You’re sopping, precious,” he murmured with a sly grin.

He had you begging, flustered, and beautiful. Your hand clasped his face as your other arm looped around his neck, swallowing his lips, anxious and thirsty for his breath. You craved every part of him viscerally. “Cum in me, daddy. Please…”

He scoffed, lips ghosting over yours. “Will you take every bit of daddy’s cum, hmm? Hold my cum inside you.”

You nodded gingerly. “Yes, yes. I promise, daddy. Give it to me please, I want you to spill your cum inside me and make me yours…”

“Hold on to me.”

You obliged, met with the hot stream of his climax, yours quick to follow. He embraced your sides, devouring your lips and muffling your whines. His loads pumped into you in erratic thrusts, fucking his cum back into you and making sure you drained him of every ounce. His fingers dug into your flesh, feeling you just come apart for him, undoing the tension that festered earlier.

But that tension was needed. It was necessary to survive. Everyone let themselves forget the current predicament, basking in the glow of the sunset until dinner time arrived. Despite the housekeeper that supposedly exists, she hadn’t been around since all of you stepped foot in the house, like a ghost presence. Seungcheol scrambled to find her—reminding you of his peculiar obsession with the woman—as he wondered when dinner would be ready since a rise in temperature or a savory scent couldn’t be found in the kitchen.

“That’s strange. She’d be finished with a whole chicken by now,” the homeowner commented, noticeably picking his nails.

“Aww,” Seokmin groaned, “Well, is there anything else to eat?”

“I mean…you can look around.”

You narrowed your eyes at him in disbelief. “This is your house. You don’t know what you have in your own house?”

“You try navigating a five-story home with countless cabinets!”

“Buy a smaller house, you prick!”

“Guys!” Minghao chimed in. “Breathe in…and out. We’ll just find food. Seungcheol, your maid, your house, your search. She’s probably fine.”

Your hands slammed against those pristine marble counters. “We are NOT splitting up right now. This is what the killer wants. She’s probably already dead and we’re fucked.”

Wonwoo came to your side, laying a cool calm over your shoulder, and rubbed your sides. You let yourself melt in his touch, his sweet voice soothing you effectively. 

Seokmin sat up from his stool, “Okay, okay. I will help Seungcheol and you guys stick together.”

“That’s still splitting up!”

“Better than alone.” Seungcheol rebutted. “You guys stay.”

Despite your protests, they went on their search. Your head banged against Wonwoo’s chest, muttering in anguish about how everything was going wrong and that it’d only get worse. Meanwhile, Minghao seemed to regain some of that tension but masked the fear with the bright light of his phone, scrolling through TikTok. You didn’t know what was more annoying, sensation of imminent death possibly behind any door, or the same five songs replaying on Minghao’s feed.

After 15 minutes when they were nowhere to be seen, your patience had run thin. You picked yourself up from Wonwoo’s lap and dusted yourself off. “Fuck this. We’re finding them.”

You felt his hand on your shoulder, a concerned glow in his gaze. “Babe, hey. They’ve got it. Trust them.”

“Wonwoo, you know I can’t do that. Let’s just find them, hmm? Together?”

“Not a bad idea,” Minghao agreed. “Better in groups right? We go together, eliminate us as any potential suspects.”

Your boyfriend sighed, collected your hand, and laced his fingers through yours. “Fine.”

You were all joined together by the hip, making sure you were each other's sights. Through the wider than wingspan hallways, past the ridiculously expensive sculptures, you kept your eyes out for your estranged friends. Silence couldn’t have been more loud in these cavernous spaces, only hearing the gut feelings in your stomachs that’s churned in trepidation. Every step taken was the group closing in on the killer. 

Fortitude meant nothing if the danger was already inside.

Before turning around the corner, Minghao—reluctant to lead the group—crashed into a human-sized obstacle, causing the stumble of your entire party. You all faced a wide-eyed Seungcheol with the missing young housekeeper walking hand in hand with him. Suspicious, but besides the point.

“Holy shit, we said we’d come back!”

“It’s been 20 minutes, Cheol! You guys could’ve been dead for all we know.” You retorted.

“Wait, where’s Seokmin?” Wonwoo asked, noticing he didn’t see him nearby.

“He went ahead. He needed to piss or something and meet up later.”

“You idiot.” Your eyes burned a frustrated rage. “I said don't split up. DON’T SPLIT UP! That’s the number one rule of horror movies. You’re going get us fucking killed. He could be the murderer for all we know.”

Seungcheol scoffed, shaking his head. “Seokmin? No way. He’s the last person to even think to do that.”

“Well, do you see him? No! Probably he’s off someone being Ghostface reject with his stupid little voice modulator and cheap party city costume.”

“I told you—“ Before he could finish, his phone went off in the nick of time. When he pulled it out to saw Seokmin’s caller ID on display and the owner of the device wouldn’t help but smile. “See the bastard is even calling.”

He picked up and put him on speaker, eyeing you cheekily, amped to prove you wrong. “Seok, you little shit. How long does it take to piss, huh? Just say you wanted to take a dump.”

“Oh yeah, I took the shittiest, stinkiest, fattest dump. You could probably smell all the way from the other end of the hall.”

Instead of Seokmin on the other line, all of you were met with the eerie voice that had called you multiple times before. The voice that felt like spiders crawling up your legs. The voice that had you second guess whether you locked the front and the back door. The voice whose owner had killed countless people already. 

Seungcheol held the phone in a vice grip swallowing, fear stilling in his unsteady eyes. “You—Where the fuck is Seokmin, you son of a bitch?”

The morphed voice on the other end laughed, sounding bone chilling as nails against a blackboard. “What’s to say? Why don’t we play a little game to find out?”

“Mother fu—“You grabbed the phone from Seungcheol to answer in his place, cutting the older man off. “Why go through with this?”

“Why, I just want to help you find your beloved friend. All out of the kindness of my heart.”

“If it was all kindness, you could tell us where he is.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“Psycho,” Minghao muttered under his breath, eyes wide in shock and fear, as if registering the idea of death for the first time.

“And if we refuse?” Wonwoo interjected.

“Seokmin dies, rock for brains,” Seungcheol gritted.

“Ding, ding, ding. Or should I say, chop, chop, chop, since that’s what'll happen if you get any of my questions wrong.”

You scoffed, coming down the stairs with your friends to follow. “Have at it then, you freak.”

“Hey, hey, play nice. Maybe I’ll get too excited and decide to cut him up early.”

Seungcheol glared at you briefly before taking back the phone, storming down the stairs, and reaching the ground floor. “Ask away, as long as Seokmin is safe.”

“First an easy one. What’s your favorite scary movie, Seungcheol?”

His feet stopped at the end of the couch in his living room, stammering to answer. “What kind of fucking question—uh, The Ring?”

“Don’t lie to your friends, Seungcheol. You know that’s not the answer, that’s just what you say to anyone that asks. Say the real answer.”

“That’s the movie though!” he started to shout, visibly shaking.

“Just say it, Cheol!” Minghao pushed.

“Stop playing around Choi Seungcheol! Just say it,” You joined.

“Fine!” He faced the friends, evidently swallowing his pride as he choked up on his answer. “I never watched a goddamn scary movie! Is that what you want to hear? I get panic attacks every time I hear one in the background, why do you I’m always going off smoking when you guys put one on,” he confessed through his tears.

“Congratulations. Your first right answer. Now was that so hard? Pussy boy?”

“Fuck you,” Seungcheol sputtered, tossing the phone back to you.

“Next question. ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre,’ Leatherface is known for wearing a mask when it was in fact several. How many and what were they in the original movie?”

“Who the fuck would know an answer like that?” Minghao croaked in disbelief.

“Three. A ‘Killing Mask’, an ‘Old Lady Mask’ and a ‘Pretty Woman Mask.’” Wonwoo calmly answers, garnering horrified looks all around. “I wanted to be a filmmaker, remember?”

“Correct. Next question. What Was Freddy Krueger's serial killer nickname before he died?”

“It’s on the tip of my tongue,” you said slightly panicked, “Wonwoo?”

“The Springwood slasher.”

“Wow, Another amazingly correct answer. Hold on to that one, Y/n. He’s a keeper. He’s smart and fucks your brains out to the point of you screaming bloody murder? What a catch.”

You didn’t respond, impatience seething on the tip of your tongue, “Just tell us where this is all going.”

“Patience, sweetheart. Last question. What exact kind of knife does Ghostface use in the Stab movies? Here’s a hint: it’s the same one I’m holding in my hand against Seokmin’s throat. (Help me please...)”

“S-Seok.” Seungcheol gasped.

Seokmin’s voice could barely be heard on the other end, weak and afraid, only staggering breaths audible.

“Wonwoo, please,” Seungcheol begged, tears falling past his neck. “He’s our best friend.”

Wonwoo swallowed, gears visibly creaking in his head, “I know he uses a hunting knife, b-but—“

“Oh…” the voice cooed, “Well, that’s just not enough, is it? Seokminnie, say goodbye to your friends (Please, no…).”

“Seokmin!”

“Wait!” You barged, clutching the phone to the point of it almost bending. “A modified Buck 120. I remember now. It’s coming back to me. Now, let Seokmin go!”

The line went dead and in turn, light cast in the evening darkness of the poolside. All your eyes shot back at the change of light, startled at the sight in front of them. Seokmin was seated in a chair, bruises against his sides, bleeding from the splices on his forearms, and duct tape over his mouth. Yet the most frightening part was his closed eyes.

“Seokmin!”

You all rushed towards him, swinging the porch door in a panic. Seungcheol tried slapping him awake, pleading he’d be alive. “Seokmin please, please, wake up…

The poor victim's eyes start to flicker open, mumbling through the adhesive over his lips.

“Buddy,” Seungcheol ripped the duct tape clean off him, his ear coming up to his friend’s lips. “Speak to me…”

Seokmin’s voice came out in croaks, hardly incoherently, all except, “Be…hind…”

Minghao spat up blood, doubled over as Ghostface was revealed right behind him, and fell right into the pool. You and the housekeeper both let out a blood-curdling scream. The masked intruder wiped off the blood using his black rope, anticipating a lunge towards their next victim. 

“Run,” Wonwoo breathed out. 

He took your hand and ran with it. Taking a second to look back, you see Seungcheol and the housekeeper try to escape similarly before she was tugged right back towards the killer and she was stabbed right in front of him five times, each one faster than the last, having the poor Seungcheol paralyzed and fallen on his knees. The sounds of suffering were loud enough to hear throughout the neighborhood.

Wonwoo dragged you back upstairs, his survival instinct telling him to seek haven high and far up the house. 

“You left them there to die,” You proclaimed.

“He said he could manage it. You’re more important.”

“You actually believe that? Ghostface snuck up on Minghao with neither of us looking!”

“We’re going to have to. Secungcheol can handle himself.”

Finally, he finds the room, closing the door behind him and pushing heavy furniture in front of it for more time to stall. “We’ll be ok for a little bit here. Let’s look for weapons.”

He started rummaging through drawers, looking for anything strap, blunt, heavy, anything worth using. He was red in the face, sweat drenching his entire body. The only thing running through his mind was keeping you, the most important person in his life, safe. 

“Wonwoo, I don’t know if we’re going to find anything. Fuck. I’m so scared right now.”

He recognized the panic in your eyes, the bounce in your step, and the quiver in your voice. “Hey, hey, baby. Look at me.” He grasped your face in his hands, wiping your tears away with his thumb. 

“I’m here, hmm.” He kissed your closed eyes. “You’re alright.”

Then your tempered cheeks. “We’ll get through this.”

The tip of your nose. “I love you like hell.” 

Finally your trembling lips. “I’ll keep you alive.”

“Promise?” You managed to breathe out.

“Scouts honor.”

The banging resonated from outside the locked door, only getting louder and closer every passing second as if teasing you to death. You shook in Wonwoo’s embrace, burying your face in his chest. “I don’t want to die here, baby.”

“You won’t. Not with me.” One arm wrapped around your body, and another had his fingers locked around the base of a lamp, tugging it from the outlet. Pitch darkness joined you, only having to rely on the dim-lit sky through the peek of the windows.

Whomever on the other side cracked through the wood of the door, breaking it piece by piece as it fell to the ground, knocking over the dresser that blocked 

“Shit, shit, shit.” Wonwoo pushed you behind him.

Finally, your barrier came down with a final kick, rendering it useless. Wonwoo let out a battle cry, charging at them with the lamp above his head. He swung his weapon while Ghostface swung theirs, both missing simultaneously. Gritting his teeth, Wonwoo pulled forward, aiming for the head.

They crash against the wall in the process, but not without mutilating the midsection of Wonwoo’s stomach. The visually impaired man fell back to the ground, groaning in agony as he clutched his stomach, while blood trickled through his fingers. “Mother fucker...”

Wonwoo’s vision started to fight against him with the loss of his glasses, dimming images before him, and slowly processing the murderous figure trodding before him. Wonwoo’s determination picked him right back up slowly, picking up his lamp once again, trying to take another move toward the perpetrator. And by pure luck, the lamp crashed against the crown of their head.

Ghostface stumbled back, quick to recover but visibly agitated.  Soon enough, they plunged the full length of the knife right into Wonwoo’s gut, sticking it deep and long before kicking him off of it. Wonwoo lands on the hardwood, blood gushing out of him like a public water fountain. “Fuck, fuck!”

“Wonwoo!” You come by his side, clutching at his wound desperately. “No, no, no.”

The sinister figure approached once more, hand creeping against the edge before he pulled it over and off his head. His eyes stared back at you both maniacally. His grin stretched from both ends freakishly before overtaking in deep chuckles. “Happy to see me?”

“…C-Chan?” Wonwoo managed to gasp.

“Hi, bestie.” His signature smile, once warm and inviting, reflected horrifyingly as if out of a film, one with too much bloodshed and betrayal to imagine. “Well, didn’t think you’d see me again, huh?”

“Chan, what the fuck?” You screeched. 

“You’re supposed to be dead.” Wonwoo voiced panic-stricken. “What, how?”

One foot over the other, Chan carried himself with conviction, ease, and the confidence of a man who slaughtered countless amounts of people. 

“You guys don't know how easy it is to fake my death. I was surprised by how incredibly stupid police officers are. Find a body that’s my height, my build, cut off their hands and arms to not get their fingerprints, singe their skin and face to the point of unrecognition, and plant them in your own home. I’m a fucking genius.”

“S-Seungkwan,” Wonwoo wept, his adam’s apple, “You actually—”

“It was beautiful. Masterful.”

“Why?” Wonwoo stammered. “Your best friend—“

“He was an imbecile. Weak. All bark and no bite. You will never understand how good it felt to stick the knife inside him and watch the blood burst off of him like a sprinkler. Like the knife going in and out of him surged power throughout my entire body. So, I kept doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. And doing it. AND DOING IT.”

His smile. That violating smile.

You sobbed, covering Wonwoo’s wound with your hands. “Y-you monster.”

“This was all just fun for you?” Wonwoo bared his teeth. “You get your kicks from lying, deceiving, stabbing your friends? You think you’re some Billy Loomis?”

“Of course I have fun. I had lots of fun. We had so much fucking fun.”

“We?” Wonwoo repeated.

“What the fuck do you mean we?” You asked horrified.

Chan started to chuckle to himself, chest heaving exuberantly before he stood completely still. Dreadfully still. 

“Well, I'm not the one that killed Joshua, am I?”

A million guesses ran through Wonwoo’s brain. None made sense the more he thought about it. “Your Stu Macher? Seokmin…Seungcheol…?”

Your eyes turned to him fearful, before it melted into something else, something familiar. Something terrifying. “No…” your lips drew close to his ear. “Me…” 

Your hands squeezed around his wound, gripping, earning his moans of anguish, screaming at you to stop, before you retrieved the knife hidden behind your boot and drove it into his shoulder. Wonwoo let out the loudest scream he could ever muster, feeling the blade sharply cut his nerve whilst pain shot into his chest. He tapped his heel incessantly on the ground, tears streaming from his eyes, looking at you in disbelief, overcome with hurt.

“And he was a good fuck too until the knife I put through his back made him scream like a little bitch.”

You pulled out the knife from him, seeing how the pain he felt in his body only complimented the suffering pooling in his heart, his mind, his soul. His lips quivered in your direction, sucking in his breath. “Y/n…Why?”

You simply shrugged. “Why does anyone kill these days? They’re bored, daddy. Same reason why things can change in the bedroom, to spice things up. The flavor of life is murder now, darling.”

“You’re killing people.”

You drove the knife one more time into his thigh, savoring his scream of agony. “And we’re more alive than we ever have been,” you said, twisting the knife before pulling it out.

You walked toward Chan, helping him pull off his robe. “And so is our sex life.”

“So, Junhui, Soonyoung…Joshua, and even Seungkwan.” Wonwoo asked, catching his breath.

“Every. single. one,” You chuckled. “Draining their cum out of like having a second puberty until life is literally drained out of their bodies. What a bunch of pussy boys. So obsessed with sex, they didn’t see the knife coming their way.”

Your hand reached for the ottoman and pushed Chan there to be seated, underdressed in the black tank top and black jeans he hid underneath with his momentarily abandoned bloody knife at his side. You unbuckled his pants single-handedly, your knife still in your other hand. “And Chan just gets so fucking hard with all the bloodshed. Like a bloodthirsty animal.”

“You just look so fucking sexy with blood on your hands,” Chan moaned, “Touch me how I like it, baby.”

“Mmh, my pleasure.” Your hand used the blood covering it as a morbid form of lube, closing around the girth of his cock to squeeze and lightly stroking it from base to tip, softly thumbing over the small slit on top. 

His stomach flexed, bucking his hips in your direction as he bit down on his bottom lip, beaming like a child on Christmas. Horny for your touch, Chan couldn’t help but squirm in his seat, warning up to your touch. He was absolutely growing at a rapid pace. “Like that baby, like that.”

“That feel good, daddy? You like how the blood is covering your entire cock? Seokmin’s blood, Minghao’s blood, Seungcheol’s blood? Wonwoo’s blood?”

“Fuck. Yes.”

“You two,” Wonwoo’s shock couldn’t stagger from the scene in front of him, unable to process all this information at once.

“You’re massaging our friends into my cock so good, baby.”

“Yeah?” You traced your fingers over the details of his shaft, your nails prodding at the veins as your hand slowly picked up pace. You rolled him in your fist, letting him rut in your defiled hand as he moaned your name like an animal in heat. “I’m getting so wet watching fuck in my hand covered in blood. You’re just a sick lunatic obsessed with killing your friends and fucking my sweet pussy. I love that about you, Daddy.”

“Fuck,” he screamed, hands gripping the ottoman in restraint, brimming with passion, “Wanna mix Wonwoo’s cum you kept inside you with the blood. Sit that sweet pussy on my cock for me, lover.”

You nodded invitingly, not missing a beat. You never did replace the underwear from before, making it easy to remove your shorts and sliding him inside your warm walls, massaging his length as you rolled your hips against his. You held the knife you still had in a death grip, stabling against the reliability of Chan’s shoulders. You mumble his name pleased, arching your back as you grinded down on his lap. “Your cock feels so good covered in blood, daddy.” 

“Your pussy feels even better knowing how much fun you had stabbing Wonwoo for me.”

“Of course, daddy.” You turned to the body mutilated and defenseless on the ground, grinning as Wonwoo was forced to watch. “That look good, Daddy Wonwoo?” Your ass bounced purposely in Chan’s lap, the jiggle showing off the splatter of blood left from the handjob.

Everything in Wonwoo told him to look away but he couldn’t, like a train wreck or a car crash, he couldn’t part with the mess of a situation he was witnessing. He wasn't sure what this meant for him, mentally nor physically.

“You like watching Chan fuck me, Daddy? His bloody dirty cock fucking me like you did a hour ago, fucking me like a nasty little whore.”

He hissed through his teeth, right the strange feeling surging in his pain-stricken body, “Shut…the fuck up.”

You laughed obnoxiously. “You love it. You love being a little cuck, watching other guys fuck my pussy. As if you hadn’t peeped on me and Chan fucking when he wasn’t ‘dead’.”

“It’s not true, you bitch.” The twitch in his trousers told him otherwise.

“You’re such a liar a dirty, dirty liar like I’m a dirty, dirty fucking whore.” You groaned loudly taking Chan’s cock, bouncing against his lap as you felt him pulse around your walls.

“That’s right baby take my cock.” Chan’s hand came over your bare cheeks, striking them with his full palms while his hips jerked up your body. “Taking the murder fueled, hard fucking cock.”

“Daddy, your cock is making me so fucking wet, stretching my pussy the way you sliced open our friends,” You growled.

“Fuck you’re such a little succubus, baby. Bouncing on my cock, coating yourself in blood. And I’ll kill more and more for you. I’ll do anything for you.”

“Yeah,” You began slowing your pace, drinking in his every word. “You’d do anything for me?”

“I’d kill the entire human population for you.”

That left you smiling from ear to ear, the tension coiling in your stomach. Your chest pressed against his, pushing against his thrusts. “Yeah? Would you cum in me, Daddy? Mix our dirty mess inside me. Let me take your cum, daddy.”

“I’ll let you drain me of every drop, my little psychopath.”

“Cum daddy cum, make me full and breed me with our homicidal baby daddy. Make you a real daddy.”

Chan shuddered, overwhelmed with immense arousal. His hips found life of their own, hammering into you at top speed, and watching the pleasure morph on your face and the staccato rhythm of your breath leave your lips, all while the load threatened to burst out of his sack. “I’m cumming, baby, all for you, ah—“ then it exploded inside you. His cum launched out of his cock like a hose, he painted your wall in milky white, turning pink as it seeped out of you.

“I’m so close, daddy…”

Chan threw his head back to catch his breath, hands possessively finding purchases on your hips. “That’s it, baby. cum for daddy.”

“I’m cuming daddy, I’m—“ You gripped your knife, taking Chan’s abandoned one before plunging both in his head. His smile dropped, a small and weak, “baby” leaving his sweet lips before spitting up blood on your chest and he fell limp. 

You didn’t stop, however, given the fact that your orgasm had just arrived the mere second Chan tasted metal in his mouth. Your moans could’ve been mistaken for anguish if not for the smile on your savage face. “I’m cumming all over your cock, Daddy, fuck! You’re so good to me, you do so much for me. I love you so much. Hitting my spot even in death.”

The wave of climax finally started to fade, unlike your smile, wretched and demonic. “Thank you for your sacrifice, Daddy. I’ll miss you so much.” You kissed deceased Chan’s lips, coming down from him, and fixing his pants before fixing his pants before pulling your shorts back on your body.

“Y/n…what the fuck?”

Watching you pull the knives out of Chan’s head, Wonwoo's expression was a mix of confusion and horror, struggling to back away as you approached him calmly, almost serenely.

“Chan has served his purpose,” You answered plainly as if obvious. “It was his time.”

“You did that, all that, with him, and you MURDER HIM? Your partner in sick, sick psychotic crime?”

“I told you spice was necessary, plus I’ve grown rather fond of you.” You bent down to his level, eyes noticeably just a deep pit of disparity. “I couldn’t let him kill you, so I beat him to it. Good thing too, because that was the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

Wonwoo whimpered under your touch—well, the knife’s touch—as the tip of it dragged over his jaw, drawing out a shudder. “Y-you’re letting me live?”

Your smile. That damned smile. You and Chan were mere reflections of each other. How had he not seen this sick image sooner?

“As long as it's with me, because you love me right? That’s what you said. You’ll always love me and keep me alive. You promised.”

You pressed the blade against his neck, “You’re cold-blooded. Fucking your dead friend’s girlfriend, leaving your other friends to die to save me, and taking on a mass murderer just for me.” Your other hand caressed over his face. “That’s hard fucking core, baby. I love that so much. You really love and want me. Well, I want you just as bad.”

“Like you wanted Chan?”

You scoffed, using the knife to point at the abandoned soulless body on the ground. “Chan was disposable. He was already fucked up in the brain. I can nurture you, let you prove you’re that you’re mine and only mine. Then I’d have no reason to kill you. Not at all…say you’ll be with me forever.”

“…yes, sweetie. O-of course I will.”

You sighed a breath of relief, your harmless hand coming over to stroke over the stray hairs on his head. “That’s my daddy. My one and only. We can be the finals. Together. Only us—”

“Hello! Wonwoo! Y/n!” Miraculously, Seungcheol found their way to you, barely alive it sounds like.

Rage filled your eyes. “Holy fuck how is he still alive,” you mumbled under your breath. “I’ll take care of him.”

You held the knife to your side, standing by the door and away from its open view. “Cheol! In here! We caught the killer!”

Seungcheol managed to find the defaced door, peeking through the rubble to see a disheveled Wonwoo, panting and close to death. “Wonwoo!”

“Cheol…” Wonwoo grunted. 

“Hang in there, buddy. I’ve got you.”

“To…your…right.”

You glared at Wonwoo, betrayal in your eyes before launching yourself at the hero, who hardly had a scratch on their body. Seungcheol, taking his friend's warning in consideration, built up a wall of defense. His eyes caught you just in time and held up your arms, pinning you against a wall. His eyes finally registered on your face, and his grip on you only tightened. “Y/n, you evil little bitch.”

You chuckled tauntingly, struggling against his weight and strength. “Hi, Cheol. I know you always wanted to stick something in me, mind letting me do it first?”

“You—wow, you’re actually mentally deranged.”

“You don’t like that? Maybe my knife through your skull can change your mind.”

He kicked you in the groin, having you plummet to your knees, cusses streaming out of you like a river. “You pussy. Ass. Bitch.”

“Seungcheol,” Wonwoo groaned, painfully cheering him on.

You managed to kick Seungcheol down in your distress, crawling on top of him to gain leverage. “I know you liked to be topped.”

You held the knife, hands wrapped tightly around the handle before striking. Meanwhile, Seungcheol’s hands were wrapped around your wrists, the tip of the knife tickling his nose. Sweat beaded against his forehead, struggling harder than he thought he would as you smiled still.

“This would be a lot sexier if you let me run my knife inside you, baby.”

“Fuck you and your demented punk ass,” he grunted.

“I would if you’d just FUCKING DIE!”

A gunshot follows soon after and the blood gushed from your neck, pouring from both ends and falling lifelessly against Seungcheol, who let out a shrill scream.

“I found a gun,” Seokmin proclaimed weakly from the door before fainting to the ground.

Seungcheol rolled your body off of him, sick to his stomach. “Sick crazy bitch.”

He looked towards his friend who remained helpless his entire journey before his eyes got caught on the dead body he only realized now. “Is that…”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo whispered.

“And they…”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck, dude.”

Seungcheol went around to pick up Seokmin from the ground, grabbing the gun. Meanwhile, Wonwoo’s eyes lingered over your body, in disbelief it was alive a mere second ago, then he saw something strange, causing his eyes to fly open. “Cheol behind you!”

Another gunshot. Right between your eyes and your body that stood for hardly a second longer than it should’ve—of course with the knife still in your hand—fell right back on the ground.

“They always come back,” Wonwoo quoted.

Seungcheol let out a deep exhale, loosening his grip around the gun. “And aim for the head.”

“Sorry about your house.”

“…sorry about your girlfriend.”

“Me too.”

post reading a/n: always like me to insert chan into anything fr. i have no excuses

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @goblinvern @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @smileysuh (felt fucked up not to tag you bc you’re fucked it just like me 💕)

#svthub #seventeen smut #horror au #seventeen #dino smut #wonwoo smut #lee chan smut #jeon wonwoo smut #dino x you #dino x reader #dino x y/n #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x y/n #wonwoo x you #seventeen fanfic #dino #seungcheol #wonwoo #minghao #seokmin #lee seokmin #choi seungcheol #xu minghao #lee chan #scoups #jeon wonwoo #lee chan x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x you #jeon wonwoo x y/n

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Hotel Room

PAIRING: Tangerine x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 2392

SUMMARY: changing plans midway into a mission in Tokyo- you, Tangerine and Lemon decide to stay in a hotel instead of taking the bullet train.

TAGS/WARNINGS: 18+ only. dry humping, pinv, unprotected sex, pull out. no use of y/n MINORS DNI.

A/N: this is my first post and im a little scared to post it, so please plz be kind. I tried to keep it as accurate as possible, however I accidentally made Tangerine kinder than I had originally planned and changed some things about the film plot so it doesn’t create a domino effect in this- aka Tan dying

rewritten 09/12/23 - no change to the plot, just made it less crap

"I don't think we should be getting this train," you mutter like you were talking to yourself, eyes darting across the busy platform of the station. "Guys?" you repeat, turning to see only Lemon behind you. "I don't think we should get this train."

"Yeah?" Lemon hums, sounding distracted.  

"I have a bad feeling. The next one is in thirty minutes. I say we wait," you respond, wary eyes glancing around.

Tangerine joins you both, looking over the tickets he just collected. "What's that now?" he questions, brows furrowed.

"I got intel someone I used to know might be on here," you murmur, avoiding the Twins' focused gaze.

"Like an ex?" Tangerine prods, his tone slightly cautious.

"No— stop it. I'm being serious," you emphasise, eyes squinting to show your annoyance.

Usually, when others act possessive around you, you'd turn the other way - having no interest in games. But when you talk about other guys in front of Tangerine, you'd often notice how his forehead vein would subtly protrude, like he was bubbling with rage from the inside - keeping it hidden. Though you'd always notice. It wasn't hard to tell when he was jealous. His quick, snappy comments are often the main giveaway.

"Alright, alright. Keep'ya knickers on, bellend," he scoffs, crossing his arms and widening his stance as if he was trying to intimidate you - which it doesn't.

"Okay, so, you remember Johannesburg? When we saw that guy— dirty blonde, mid-length hair? Facial hair? Yellow outfit. Looked like a prisoner? That one?" 

"No, not really," Lemon adds, shaking his head - looking clueless.

"Lemon. You shot him— a few times."

"No, not ringing a bell," he continues, just as clueless as before. "Oh, you mean Joburg?"

Tangerine pipes in, sighing. "Yes, you daft fuck."

"Well, I was just checking."

"Yeah, but it ain't important now, is it?" the twins bicker, overlapping each other.

"Oh my god," you mutter, rubbing the bridge of your nose. "Right, anyway, none of that's important. I used to work with him— Ladybug, like way way way back. I got a tip-off he's gonna be getting this train, and he's clearly been assigned to snatch that case," you nod to the silver briefcase tucked under Lemon's arm. 

"We can keep the case safe. We got hired for that reason," Tangerine adds, subtly reassuring you. 

"No, no. That doesn't matter. He's seeing a new therapist, and he's got some weird fate, destiny thing protecting him— like everyone except him gets hurt. I dunno about you, but I don't really feel like getting shot at again today."

You look between the brothers, eyes softening like you are talking without words - telling them things to make them take your side, to make them see that you're trying to protect them. You find it harder to pull away from Tan's fixed blue gaze, feeling strangely hypnotised under his attention.

"Okay," Tangerine agrees simply. "We'll wait," he nods, extending his hands towards you, resting them on your shoulder as if he's comforting you - telling you in his own way that everything will be okay. He rips his hands away when he hears a cough from beside him - Lemon suspicious at the placement.

The kind gesture wasn't long-lived, but it helped. A lot.

You suggest staying in a nearby hotel for the night, offering to try again in the early hours of the morning. The case would be safe, and that's what mattered.

————

You and the twins walk into the quiet hotel lobby, asking for three rooms - preferably all next door to each other. Once collecting the key cards, you make your way up to your floor, letting yourselves into your rooms with a quick nod to one another, silently saying goodnight.

After the nonstop events of today, all you wanted was to shower. To wash away the grime of the day, literally.

You throw your overnight bag on the floor and do a quick sweep of the room to check it's safe, then head into the bathroom, stepping into the shower to begin a lengthy wash.

Afterwards, you pat yourself dry with a fluffy hotel towel, dressing in an oversized tee when you hear a few rhythmic knocks at the door. You look through the peephole to see a wet, curly-haired, ‘stached man - there was only one person that could be.

You tug on the hem of your t-shirt, covering your exposed thighs as you open the door, greeted by Tangerine on the other side wearing a baggy tee and a pair of boxers.

His eyes leisurely travel over you, slowly pulling away from your thighs that you subtly tried to hide. He coughs, clearing his throat like he's refocusing, diverting his attention from your lower half back to your fresh face.

"Just doing bed check. And you are... ahem," he masks the pause in another cough. "You are accounted for. So that's. That's good."

"Right, okay," you murmur, purposely keeping your gaze fixed on his face - stopping your eyes from glancing lower.

He hesitates, lingering like that wasn't all he knocked for. You wanted to invite him in. To hang out for a bit. But you get all finicky and squirrely when it's just the two of you, and you never know what to say or do. It was like you couldn't think straight, his aftershave and biceps acting like a barrier in your brain. Besides, it's not like anything can happen between you anyway - he didn't like you in that way.

He clears his throat once more, scratching the back of his neck. "My tv ain't working. I don't wanna watch Lem's shit, so can I watch some in your room?"

Letting out a small puff of a sigh, you agree and move aside, allowing him to walk past. He settles in almost instantly, shimmying himself under the covers and flicking through the channels, trying to find something good to watch.

You sit down awkwardly beside him, leaving a safe and comfortable gap between you, subtly scootching away when he moves closer to you.

"What's up with you? You're being well weird," he asks, diverting his attention from the Japanese game show to you, looking over you with furrowed brows.

"I'm not being weird. You're being weird," you divert, crossing your arms over yourself, trying to minimise space. "Just trying to get comfy."

"That's cos'ya hanging off the bed, knobhead. Get closer, then."

He swiftly pulls you closer, gently dragging you towards him so that both of you are leaning against the headboard, his arm draped over your shoulder.

It was the complete opposite of what you were trying to accomplish - now smushed up close to his side, forced to smell his masculine shower gel. You had no idea what to do with yourself.

You have only been this close in proximity a few times. And on those occasions, one of you would always be drunk - never to be brought up again. But when you're sitting so close to him, both completely sober, your brain can't help but stir up those feelings you've been trying to suppress.

Lewd and vulgar thoughts spiralled around when you feel the steady sound of his heartbeat against your arm, everything so casual and natural - like everything was a breeze with him. Your mind begins to wander when you feel him shift beside you, legs spreading, groin adjusting like he was making himself comfortable - like he was situating himself in your bed for the night.

In your line of work, you don't often experience genuine human interactions - ones that are soft and gentle, ones filled with tender love and care. Every encounter lately has ended in a blood bath - literally. 

So when you feel Tangerine's hand slip into yours, you can't help but overthink it. It was so unlike him to physically show how he felt, so it was tricky not to question his motives.

His thumb swipes over your hand, softly squeezing yours, so you decide to look up at him, but he is already focused on you - the tv a mere thought away. The way he looked at you was so unexpected, so different to all the other times. 

All you could offer under his concentrated attention was a faint and gentle smile, nose softly scrunching as you held his gaze. He returns with a boyish grin, tache twitching with the movement.

You momentarily break eye contact, quickly glancing down at his lips. You thought you were sneaky, but the way his breathing ever so slightly faltered told you otherwise. 

He slowly leans towards you, his movements articulate and calculated as he pulls you in for a kiss, working over your lips carefully and considerately. His large palms nestling on the side of your face, cupping your cheeks as he deepens the kiss - everything turning somewhat desperate. Hasty.

His mouth travels away from your slightly bruised lips, now working along your jaw and down the side of your neck. Muttering faint groans into your skin as you tug on the damp curls at the back of his head - holding him close to you.

Tangerine's movements remain dominant. In charge. Guiding you and bringing you down the bed, laying you flat on your back so he can situate himself between your spread legs - hovering atop of you with his chest pressed to yours.

His cock feels firm against you, tucked and slotted perfectly between your thighs, nudging and brushing your clit with every subtle move he makes. 

It wasn't long before you found yourself whimpering into his mouth and toying with your hips, the dry humping working you up more than you had thought.

He parts from your lips, looking into your hazy, blissed-out eyes -ones that mirror his own- and begins to lazily push up your tee, stroking up your stomach, exposing just what he wanted to see; plushy tits and cute soft tummy. 

You help him out of his t-shirt, wanting to see more. Eager fingers trailing over the contours of his stomach before pulling him back to you, his happy trail brushing against your abdomen - chests sandwiched together. 

He trails a faint line of kisses down your neck and along your collarbone as he slips himself from your grasp, sitting on his knees between your thighs. He picks up your hand, sliding his gold rings onto your fingers. "Look after these for me, would'ya?" he whispers, kissing the back of your hand.

It's then that he finally slips a hand between your legs, faintly trailing up and down your slit, teasing you as he palms his cock through his tented boxers, circling over the wet patch of fabric - right by his head.

His gaze remains lidded, lazily looking over you as he dips his hand into the waistband, rolling over his aching cock a couple of times. Your eyes respond pleadingly, silently begging him to hurry up.

Your keen fingers make haste movements, brushing over his boxers like you were trying to strip them from him - doing his job for him. 

He answers your prayers and tugs down the fabric, flinging his briefs to the edge of the bed, letting his thick, hard cock spring free. He grips himself at the base, guiding his head towards your slick hole - rimming his tip around before slowly easing in. 

He goes slow, steady. Like he has all the time in the world. Letting you adjust and accustom his size, deeply filling you. Bottoming out.

With his cock stuffed inside, he leans over you once more, hovering over you and caging you to the mattress - your arms and legs clinging onto him, wrapping around him like a monkey on a tree. 

"Fuck me," Tangerine blabbers, voice hoarse and incoherent. Hot grunts against your throat as he winds into you, cock grinding inside you. "Christ."

He brings his hands up to your face, cupping your cheeks, holding you still so he can lap over your lips, swallowing your whimpers - your sweet pretty sounds muffling against his tongue. 

Your touch mirrors his, moving your hands from his back to hold either side of his face, pushing away a stray curl that fell. Holding him close. Keeping him there.

Tangerine quickens the pace, fucking into you a little better. More deliberatly. The curve of his cock rubbing against your gummy walls in the most sinful way.

He chases your release, wanting to feel you shudder and tighten around him - wanting to feel you cum on his cock. So, he parts from your lips and trails messy open kisses over your cheek, halting when he reaches under your ear. 

"You feel so perfect wrapped around me—  you're so perfect," he hazily whispers, talking low. "God— yeah, that's it," he nods slowly, encouraging you. "You're right there, pretty girl. I can feel it."

With his soft praise, you find yourself gripping onto his dick, tightly clamping around him as you cum. Moaning sweet cries senselessly into the crook of his neck.

Your release triggers his own, pumping his thick, warm load onto your stomach, biting back broken groans as he milks the rest of his cum onto your jittering tummy. 

He leans back over you once more, placing a lingering kiss on your lips before pushing himself off the bed, heading for the bathroom.

Returning with a lusty smile and a wet washcloth, he sits on the edge of the bed beside you, gently wiping it over your stomach before doing the same with his cock, rubbing the fabric over his leaking, messy tip.

"We should've done that years ago," you whisper, flattening your tee down your stomach.

"Fuckin' years ago," he coyly grins, raking back his now-dried curls.

Your smile widens, meeting his eyes. "You, uh... you can stay over? If you want... so you— you can watch tv?" you offer, trying to persuade him - finding a reason for him to stay.

"For the tv," he chuckles, nodding. Playing along

He slips into the bed beside you, tugging the covers up and settling himself next to you. His large, warm arms find you under the sheets, holding you to his side.

"We got an early start. Get some sleep, love," he whispers, placing a delicate kiss on your temple. "Goodnight."

#tangerine #tangerine smut #tangerine fanfiction #bullet train #bullet train fanfic #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine and lemon #tangerine bullet train #smut #aaron taylor johnson

[vvh0adie]

watching my friends leave tumblr is really sad

you literally can't win

at this point the writer's strike should just be a cultural movement

like ppl are writing for FREE and you're complaining about turn out rate and shit

we have lives and some of us (HELL ALL OF US) have some form of mental illness, so we can't be fucking cogs all day and churn out fics.

writing is suppose to be therapeutic and writers want to share that with you to ease the tension of this hellscape we live in

but some of these readers and even fellow writers are taking it too far with the bullying

like its mean and nasty. you don't know what someone is going thru.

instead of asking for updates how about check and see if your writer is mentally stable to do so. that right there is a booster, to have someone say "are you okay?"

and then the whole accusations of favoring a certain member/character. if that person is my muse or safe space then of course imma write for them. most solo writers i see don't even talk bad about other people. its a SOLO account. think of it as a shrine blog of writing if that helps. they're not there to trash, just share their writing for other's who might also share the same muse.

then you have readers who can't separate fiction from reality. just because someone writes a character with irl people faceclaimed onto them doesnt mean they actually think that person would be or do those things irl. i'll be the first to say that i only gave my characters bts faces cuz thats who im attracted to and they're who i imagine would be casted to play my characters.

then IN THE YEAR OF 2023 we still have ppl making fun of their peers writing and also THE FACT THAT ENGLISH MIGHT NOT BE THEIR FIRST LANGUAGE? that's nasty asf. majority of us dont even speak 'proper' english as our first language no way. you only shooting yourself in the foot. don't act like you dont have beta readers... like what are yall on?

and anybody who gets on THAT BLOG behind anon is an opp. not just to the writing community but in how you interact with the world all together. yall don't know how to talk to people anymore? it may have started as a place for critique and accountability but no one is bringing receipts or critical thinking anymore. its mainly for drama and not rehabilitation. yall serious scare me in how we'd see the reality of social change applied to the real world. like i'd be more scared to let yall around the prisoners with minor offenses cuz yall act like its the end of the world and that change cant happen. yall give nobody room to change ignorant stances but ignore the real egregious shit because you honestly dont have the bandwidth to take on actual fascist views.

also the plagiarism has got to stop too. if you need writing resources just ask. but practice makes perfect. so you're gonna have to write yourself. you may not like your writers voice but you will feel shitty in the long run when you don't feel like its you putting those words on the paper. it literally just prolongs your inferiority. make something you're proud of and don't hurt your fellow writers. we went thru the process just like you. we earned it. and most of us aren't gatekeepers, we will help you.

like its really tuff being on here sometimes. cuz if you not being hounded by readers its your own community praying on your down fall.

we have to do better.

#preacha plym #lil rant

[obsessedwithpedritoofc]

Mʏ Oɴʟʏ Rᴇᴀsᴏɴ (Fʀᴀɴᴋɪᴇ Mᴏʀᴀʟᴇs)

ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Frankie Morales × Transmasc Reader.

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 7,3 k.

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: Both sent to the same prison, with different reasons and different problems to deal with. At least most of them, until one brought them together.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤: au, angst, violence, mentions of blood, shots being fired, mentions of death, mentions of killing, allusion to drugs, mentions of anger problems, mentions of scars, fluff, not wanting to have sex, frankies a sweetheart ofc, similarities with the series "time", actual physical descriptions of reader (but not detailed), no use of Y/N (reader is referred to as Lost). (lmk if i missed any).

𝔸/ℕ: hellooo as i suppose you already know, i LOVED writing this shit. frankie is my favorite pedro character and will always be and whenever i write something for him i get really excited. anyway so, this is based on the series "time", which is why it has some similarities to it but i mainly got inspiration from my own imagination :D whatever, im starting to bore myself lol. enjoy <3

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

That was it. You almost had it. You just had to pull the trigger...

"Come on, get up!", there was a firm, insistent knock at the door of your cell. You looked at the ceiling, sighed and reluctantly got up.

Of all the bad days you had —and you had many bad days—, that was the worst day you could have been transferred. Your legs were stiff, your knuckles were broken and bloodied, and the scar in your stomach was making your insides hurt more than usual, though maybe that was because of the hunger. But well, it's not like you could even choose when to be transferred or where. That fight hadn't been your fault.

"Move, asshole", you looked up at him. He grabbed the chicken sandwich from your tray.

"Aren't you a bit too small to be a boy?", he laughed. Some of the ones behind him did, too.

"Give me my fucking sandwich back and move out of the way", you tried to stand your ground, not look weak, give them a warning.

"Oh, lookit that! Little girl's gotten all mad—".

You didn't give him the chance to finish the sentence before you smashed your tray right on his face, making him fall to the floor with a heavy thud. You got on his lap and started hitting your fist on his nose, his mouth, his eyes, everything you could hit. Until the alarm went off and you were surrounded and grabbed by a bunch of guards that took you to an isolation cell.

Next day, you were being transferred to a prison thousands of kilometers away from him. You didn't even know where they were going to take you. But you didn't care either. At this point, you didn't really care about anything.

When you arrived to your new home it was snowing and you were freezing. As you were approaching, the driver gave you a brief explanation of how weather and life were like in that prison. You didn't see yourself living in a place where it was always cold and raining —or snowing, that day specifically—, let alone for more than twenty years and between all those freaks.

Your time in that last prison had been cut short barely a month after you got in. You rejected every chance you were given to call your family or whoever close to you, and you didn't receive a single visit. Not like you had anyone close to you either. The only one that had once been was now gone.

You spent your first day in prison like it had been your forever home. The next day, though, everyone knew who you were and started looking at you as if you were their next prey. Or more as if they knew why you were there. Luckily for you, no one approached more than necessary. And luckily for you, you didn't really have to approach anyone at all, since you didn't even have a cellmate.

A week in, though, a group of inmates paid you a visit while you were reading in your cell. One of them looked outside to make sure there was no one dangerously nearby, then closed the door. The man at the front stood still, looking at you and scanning the room. Then, he sat next to you on the bed. You immediately sat up by instinct and scanned them all as well. There was three of them —four counting the on sitting next to you. You really didn't have much of a chance if you wanted to suddenly run away, but you could knock out their boss and one of them if you were fast enough.

"I know who you are", said the one on your side.

"Before you continue, you should know the last person who told me I was small didn't end very well", you spoke fast, looking at him in the eyes with an expressionless demeanor, showing you weren't weak and that you were going to stand your ground.

"Oh, I know that, too", he smiled. "That's why you were transferred here, right?".

You sighed. The situation was starting to be a bit too cliché and boring for your liking.

"What do you want?", you didn't take your eyes off of his.

"Nothing", he raised his eyebrows. "Yet".

Of course, you thought, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

"So?", you crossed your arms. The man beside you stayed silent for a while.

"Do people around here know what you really are?".

Your demeanor immediately changed, shifting from an expressionless one to a scared one. You knew what he was talking about. 

But how the hell did he know?

"Who the fuck are you?", you found yourself suddenly lacking of oxygen. He just smiled.

"I'll come to you when I need a favor", he got up and walked to the door, then knocked. The man behind it opened it. "In the meantime, try not to get in much trouble".

And just like he had walked in, he also walked out. You gasped for air the very second you were left alone. 

Great, one week in that prison and you had somehow already fucked up. 

"Hey", another man was standing by the door now. He wasn't one of the other guy's men. "You good?", he looked around the room as if he was searching for something.

"Uh... Yeah", you frowned. "Why?".

"Those assholes are always up to somethin', wouldn't be a surprise if they were tryna get you in", he put his hands in his pockets and leaned his side on the doorframe.

"Do you want something?", you sounded a bit annoyed.

"No. I, uh, was jus' checkin' you weren't hurt".

"Well, I'm not. Thanks", you forced a brief smile. "You can leave now".

"Right", he pulled away from the door. "Sorry for botherin' ya".

When he was out of sight, you breathed again.

You took some time to think. Maybe if you did what the guy had told you to, you'd be out of trouble. By the moment, the best for you was to stay out of trouble. He had said not to, perhaps so that cops around wouldn't keep much of an eye on you in case he was going to ask you for a favor —you'd be out of suspicion.

You sighed. You knew you were fucked. But maybe you could keep yourself from making it worse.

"Why?", you held up the gun. "Why did you do it?", tears were streaming down your face.

"I had no choice".

"Why did you do this to me?!", you took a step back.

"I didn't know I'd get y—".

"Get the fuck away from me!!!".

And then you shot.

You sat at the back of the dining room. You were lucky to go down early so you could avoid the masses of inmates that fought over the last piece of bread. Unfortunately, the assholes were something you couldn't avoid. Especially the ones that came to you that morning.

"Well, hello", he sat beside you once again, followed by his men.

"What?", your tone was stern, though your face gave away your concern of what he might say. He didn't say anything at first and grabbed the bread from your tray. "That's mine", you spat.

"Not anymore", he looked into you eyes with as much sternness as your tone was holding at first. "I need you to do something for me", he smiled.

Shit, was your only thought.

"What?".

"But I need to know I can trust you before I give you a task".

"No. You tell me what you want me to do and I'll decide if I do it—".

"I think you don't understand how this works", he moved closer. "I tell you to do something, and you just do it. You don't do it, I tell everyone about you. You fuck it up, I tell everyone about you. You tell the cops, I tell everyone about you", he stared into your eyes. "Are we clear?".

You didn't say anything. You didn't want to make him think you were one to submit easily, but you didn't have any other choice either. Luckily for you, he wasn't looking to humiliate you and just let it be.

"A friend of mine's gonna leave some stuff by your cell one of these days", he pulled slightly away. "I need you to hide it and save it until I come get it".

You put on your usual expressionless demeanor.

"Okay", was your answer. He smiled.

"That's more like it", he patted your shoulder and got up. "Good thing we're on the same page".

And like that, he just walked away again.

You looked around, searching for anyone that might have seen you. Everyone else seemed to be minding their own business, except for the man that had gone check on you the first time that group of inmates had gone talk to you. He was staring at you with a knowing look from a couple tables away. You saw him well this time: he was wearing a cap and his moustache barely hid half of his upper lip. He got up with his tray before you could scan him any longer, then walked up to you and sat by your table.

"What did he say this time?", he asked.

"Hello to you, too", you rolled your eyes and went back to eating. "Why do you care so much anyway?".

"Because the last people I saw him approach to didn't end well".

"Well, define not well", you said with your mouth full.

"Beaten up by cops. By himself. Ended in the hospital", he paused to think. "Dead".

You stopped chewing for a moment, then continued.

"And why me?", you swallowed. "There's a lot of people in here, at least one of them all's gotta be in some shit with those guys".

" 'Course they do, but most of 'em want the reward he gives 'em", he took a bite of his own food. "You didn't seem to".

"Yeah, well, I guess he ran outta rewards because he didn't offer me one", you raised your eyebrows while looking down at your plate, having another bite.

"Then why did you accept to do his dirty work?".

"I didn't ac—".

"I saw him gettin' outta here with your bread n' all smiley, you must've said somethin' he liked".

You stopped eating and slammed your hands on the table.

"Look, man. Whatever I do or not is none of your goddamn business, so I suggest you start minding your own shit unless you wanna end beaten up like the last person that fucked around with me", you stared into his eyes, your own set on fire. He threw his hands up.

"A'right", he grabbed his tray and got up. "Sorry for b—".

"Bothering me, yeah, sure, you can go", you shooed him. He knew better than to keep insisting, so he walked away.

You went back to your cell as soon as you were done eating. Damn, you did miss the bread. But to be honest, it wasn't really something you were concerned about. What really worried you at that moment was which kind of stuff was that bastard's friend going to make you hide and what would happen to you in case you were caught in a room inspection.

You hoped nothing too bad.

It was done. You had done it. It was over.

You stood there, looking at the body laying on the floor in a puddle of blood.

Then you heard police sirens.

"Drop your gun!", they broke the door open. They held their gun up. You held yours on the side of your head.

"Get back!", you screamed.

"Drop your gun and get on the floor!", they kept saying.

You saw no better way out of it. So you shot once again.

A knock on your door woke you up. You hit your forehead with the metal bars under the bunk bed when you jumped, startled. You cursed yourself and rubbed the hurt spot on your forehead before getting up.

No words were shared between you and the man at the other side of the door. He just lent you a small paper bag. You hesitantly grabbed it, then he walked away.

You went back inside. You sat on your bed, asking yourself if you should open the bag or not. To be honest, it wasn't really closed, so the others wouldn't really know if you had looked inside. It's not like he had said you couldn't look. Technically, you were doing nothing wrong—

"What did he give you?".

You hit your head again with the bars.

"Dude, what the fuck!", you rubbed the top of your head. You turned to look at the door, finding the same guy that had sat with you on the dining room more than a week ago. "Oh, it's you", you huffed. "Didn't I tell you to leave me the fuck alone?".

"I know", he walked inside. "But seriously, you need some help with that guy".

"Of course, I do", you smiled sarcastically. "Out of the two times he's talked to me, I haven't been beaten up, I'm not in the hospital and I'm not dead!", you threw your hands up. "I didn't even get in trouble with any cops because of him! Of course I need help with that guy!".

The man stayed silent as you gave him your most sarcastic smile. Then you shifted back to you usual expressionlessness.

"Why do you think I need help?", you shrugged angrily. "Is it because I'm not big and buffed like the dogs he carries around with him?".

"That's not wha—".

"You think I'm weak? Is that it?", you stood up to face him. "Well, lemme tell you something, old man. This is not my first prison, and I've been surviving on my own long enough as to be able to beat the shit out of everyone in this place if I wanted to", you stared into his eyes with your brow deeply frowned.

"I didn't mean that", he spoke slowly, definitely more calmed than you. His eyes flicked down for a moment before looking back into yours. "I jus' thought that, in case he wants to fuck you up real bad, you'd be better with someone by your side".

You cleared your throat and stepped back, looking up at him.

"Someone by my side, huh?", you resisted the urge to laugh. "Because I can't handle myself well enough?".

"I already told you I didn't mean—".

"I know", you chuckled this time. "I'm just fucking with ya", you sat back on the bed. "I understand that you feel alone in here and want a friend. And who better than the new inmate, right?", you gave him a knowing smirk. He couldn't help but smile back.

"Shit, you caught me", he sat beside you as well. "I feel so lonely in this prison", he chuckled. "I'm Francisco, by the way".

"Francisco? What kind of name is that?", you bursted into laughter. 

"Jus' call me Frankie, goddammit. No need to make a big fuss 'bout it", his mumbling made you laugh more.

"Yeah, Frankie's a definitely better name".

You spent a couple minutes like that, just laughing at the stupidity of it all. Truth be told, you hadn't laughed that hard in months. And you needed it.

"So", he said after a while. "What's in the bag?".

"I don't know", you looked down at the paper bag in your lap. "A guy just came and gave it to me".

"D'you wanna open it?", he looked at you with hooded eyes.

"I don't know", you took a deep breath. "I don't think I should, but they didn't tell me not to".

"Are you seriously gonna do what he says?".

"What else am I supposed to do? He's gonna fuck me up real bad if I don't", you let out a deep sigh. "I'll find a way out of it".

"What'd he threaten you with?".

Your blood ran cold at his question. You could tell how your face went pale, and your knees would have failed to keep you steady if you weren't seating.

"I'll take care of that", you said, looking at the ground. "I'll just do whatever he wants me to and stay outta trouble for as long as I can", you opened the paper bag, pulling a small disposable phone. "Huh", you put it back were it was. "What a little shit", you mumbled.

"It's a phone now, but what if it turns into somethin' else?", Frankie got up, still looking down at you. "You have to stand up to him—".

"I said I'll take care of that", you stood up to face him once again. "Whatever he does to me, it's my problem, not yours", you stared into his eyes. "I understand you're concerned, and I appreciate it, but you can't be behind my ass all day long. I'm not a kid, I can take care of myself".

Frankie stayed silent for a minute, processing your words. Then he cleared his throat and spoke again:

"Right", he nodded once. "I'm sorry, you're right".

"Right", you nodded, too. "Glad we're on the same page", you let out a heavy sigh. "Oof, sorry. I get pretty carried away when I'm angry".

"Yeah, I can see that", he chuckled. You laughed back.

"Welp", you took the paper bag with the phone and threw it into your pillowcase. "I better not use this thing before that asshole comes looking for it".

"Yeah, you better not".

You could tell he was uncomfortable now. He didn't now what else to say. You knew you usually did that to people who tended to assume you were as weak as your body showed. That was actually one of the reasons why you had learned to survive using violence most of the time, and probably the main cause of your anger problems. 

Before you could speak any apologies to him, you heard the walls and doors being hit outside, followed by cops shouting.

"Lights out! Everyone get to sleep!".

You looked at Frankie with a regretful expression. You felt bad for having caused him to be so taken aback and awkward.

"I better get goin'. Cops won't see me in my cell, might be suspicious", he said.

"Yeah", you nodded. "I'll... see you around".

"Sure", he walked out. "See ya".

Fuck, you cursed yourself.

Perfect. The first friend you made in prison ever and you screwed up your first non-violent chat. You could swear you had never felt so bad for taking your anger out on someone else.

Wait.

You had never felt bad for taking your anger out on someone else. That was actually what you were the best at.

Frankie was a good man. You somehow knew it. And you somehow knew he didn't deserve to suffer your anger problems as well. You had started off on the wrong foot, you also knew that well. Maybe the first thing you should do to try and fix it was apologizing. For treating him that bad the first times you talked, for taking your frustration out on him, for showing him the you no one like him should meet—

"Hey", a cop outside your door startled you. "Lights out and get on the goddamn bed".

"Yessir", you turned off the lights and laid on your bed as the cop closed your door and walked away.

You sighed, trying to close your eyes while thinking of what you would say to Frankie when you saw him next morning.

A beeping sound woke you up. You eyes opened in a sudden move and you looked around, confused, despaired.

Two cops were sitting beside your hospital bed, not seeming to have noticed you awake. 

Suddenly, everything came back and your memories hit you like a truck.

Your unsteady and heavy breathing alerted the cops. They both stood up and got on both sides of your bed. You tried to get up, a stinging pain in your stomach keeping you laid down. You lifted the hem of your shirt to see it covered by a large gauze, a little bloodied.

Your mind was dizzy as the cops told you about your current medical condition, and about the twenty-five years you were going to spend in prison for murder and trying to commit suicide afterwards.

At least you had gotten rid of your worst nightmare.

"Hey", you sat next to Frankie in the dining room. He smiled at you.

"Hey", he made room for you to sit more comfortably. "You get some sleep?".

"Yeah", you forced a smile. "Kinda", you cleared your throat. "I, uh... Sorry for how I acted yesterday. I didn't have the right to talk to you like that".

"It's fine. I'm like that sometimes, too", he shrugged it off. 

"No, I mean it. I shouldn't have—".

"Hey. It's okay, really", he stared into your eyes. "I understand you have... difficulties managin' your feelings, and it's alright", you saw the beginning of a smirk forming on his lips. "I've seen more o' those around here and they don't deal with it as well as you do".

His chuckle made you laugh back.

"Whatever, old man".

You spent the day talking to Frankie, walking around with him, getting to know him. Turns out you were right: he was a good man. And maybe he was a bit too sweet to be in a place like a prison, but he seemed to be doing well. You somehow knew he wouldn't have trouble if he suddenly got into a fight. 

The next few weeks went just like that. You stuck to Frankie, and Frankie stuck to you. You found in him the first person to be close to you in a long time. You found a friend in him. He didn't judge you, didn't treat you like the rest of people in you life had. It's not like he knew either, but you really didn't need him to know. There were already enough people in that prison that knew. 

Perhaps too many, you thought one of the times you thought about telling Frankie.

So you just accepted the fact that he would probably be your only friend in that prison, and maybe for the rest of your life. Maybe you didn't even have to tell him about—

"Well well well", a pair of hands fell on your shoulders as you picked up your freshly washed clothes. "Look who's alone today, huh?".

"The fuck do you want?", you turned around. There was that asshole again.

"You seem to be nice friends with that cap guy, huh?", he gave you a sarcastic smile. "What did you tell him 'bout us?", his expression shifted very quickly to one of pure anger.

"I didn't tell hi—".

"Bullshit!", he grabbed you by the neck of your shirt and pushed you against the wall. "What did you tell him? You asked for help, huh? Like the pretty little bi—".

You punched him right on the face before he even had the chance of finishing the sentence. He let you go and pulled away to recover, touching his now bloodied nose. The men behind him took a step forward, but he signaled them to stay back. And he just laughed.

"I. Told him. Nothing", you repeated. The guy in front of you sniffed and chuckled again.

"Wow", he stood up. "You have guts, gotta admit it", he fixed his nose. "Maybe I did cross a line there. I'm sorry", he shrugged. "Be careful, though. Next time, my dogs won't be as merciful", he looked back at them and nodded. Then he approached you. "You better not tell that fucker anything of our agreement. Wouldn't want the whole prison —including him— knowing what you really are, huh?".

You didn't say a word, but your silence was enough answer for him.

"Good", he cleaned the blood off his nose. "See ya around, little one".

Once again, he walked away.

Part of you felt relieved because you hadn't gotten yourself nor Frankie into trouble. Part of you still cursed yourself for being so fucked up.

That is how you survived your first year in that prison: doing favors to those pieces of shit and sticking to Frankie. You had learned a lot about him —what he used to do before ending up in prison, how he got there, the reason why he didn't get any visits...

You also told him all of that. What you used to do before ending up in prison, the reason why you didn't get any visits... You might have lied a bit when you told him how you got there, but he seemed not to notice —or at least not to mind that you did. Maybe he wanted to give you some space, and he understood that your situation was complicated. Whatever it was, you thanked him in your mind for not asking any more questions about it.

You became closer to him that you ever planned on. He talked to you every day, seemed to be the only one to care about you in that shitty place, made sure you were doing okay even with the assholes behind you. He even seemed not to want to let you go too far away from him, except when necessary. And even if you hated to admit it, being around him —or well, having him around you— made you feel safer than if you were by yourself. You and him both knew you weren't with him for protection —you could take care of that yourself. But he still made you feel protected, but not weak. And you didn't want to admit it, but you knew you had felt that before.

And it really, really scared you.

Of course, you kept having your disagreements with the group. Many disagreements. But you managed to keep it cool so that they would leave you and Frankie alone, which they surprisingly did. And you didn't get caught by the cops around either, which was also a surprise, but you wouldn't complain. Not when you had managed to keep you and Frankie out of trouble.

Yep, I've fallen so hard, you said to yourself one day. You were scared to admit it, but you weren't doing to lie to yourself about something you already knew.

"Well, hello", you turned around to see him standing behind you on the shower stall, scanning you up and down. You quickly wrapped your towel around your body and started getting dressed, trying to let him see as little as possible.

"What do you want?", you made sure to sound upset this time.

"You got what I was waiting for?", he sat at the bench outside the showers. You grabbed a small bag with herb from inside your pants and tossed it at him. He put it in his pocket. "Good".

He stood there, watching you, but he didn't say anything else. You frowned, trying to decrypt his expression. It wasn't the one he usually had. He seemed to be eyeing you with pity, but had at the same time he had a knowing look.

"Want anything else?", you crossed your arms and leaned on the lockers. He kept his pitiful, knowing look displayed on his eyes.

"Yeah", he looked down for a moment. "I wanted to talk to you about something. It's not about me this time, promise", he moved to the side of the bench and patted the spot next to him so you would sit. You reluctantly did. "You see...", he cleared his throat. "There's one of my dogs that... Well, actually a couple of 'em... that know about your... physical condition", he stared into his eyes.

Your heart started beating quickly, anger cursing through your veins.

"Some of them have been in here for a quite some time now, and... Well, they haven't had fun in a while, and since you're doing me some favors, I thought you wouldn't have trouble doing some to the—".

Your fist crashed against his face, this time harder than the last time you had punched him. Your other fist did, too. One, two, three, four times, you lost count.

"You think I'm some slut you can sell?! Huh?! That's what you like?! Fucking little boys like me?!", you spat on his face, hitting it again and again. "You fucking pervert, son of a bitch, piece of—!".

Now it was his fist what impacted on your face.

You fell to the floor with a heavy thud. He got on top of you, just like you had done with him, and started punching your face again and again and again.

Eventually, you lost conscience of your surroundings. Probably one of his blows hit you somewhere in the brain and left you dizzy. You could just feel more pain in your face and head, even though you couldn't even lift your arms or legs to try and defend yourself. The only thing you got to hear before you fell completely unconscious was how someone pulled him away from you and grabbed you to take you somewhere.

Frankie got there just in time before he punched all the teeth out of your mouth. He pulled him back and hit his head against one of the lockers, leaving him unconscious as well. Then he grabbed you and took you to the infirmary.

He was in his cell with his cellmate —who he usually didn't pay much attention to— when some guy came to tell them some shit about you. 

The truth about you.

Frankie didn't want to believe it at first. He couldn't. But the more he thought about it, more sense it made to him. Aside from your short frame and your beautiful little face —focus, Frankie, this ain't about that—, your explosive personality and your obsession over you being too weak or small kind of gave it away. It actually made sense. It was true.

He went that same day —after the night of your encounter with that fucker— to check on you to the infirmary. He wanted to know how were you doing, and he wanted to hear from you the truth of all the scene those guys were making over you. He was told you weren't conscious yet, but he stayed nonetheless —grabbed a chair and sat beside your bed.

He had been watching you ever since you got in that prison. And when the group got inside your cell that day, his suspicions about you were confirmed. You were exactly what they needed. Why would a little man like you make the cops think you were dangerous? Simple, you weren't. That's why they picked you out of everyone.

You were right thinking Frankie wanted to protect you from them. Not because you were small —he was sure you could defend yourself just right— but because he needed to, because his heart told him it was the right thing to do. That's why he insisted on approaching you as well.

He knew you were going to be close friends the moment you apologized for talking to him in such a rude way. And he knew he liked you too much for his own good. But honestly, he didn't care. The need to protect you made him not care at all. It actually just made him embrace his feelings more. It never really bothered him to be attracted to someone. He knew he was a bit of a lovestruck guy, and whenever he knew he liked someone he didn't hesitate to admit it —unlike you. 

He told you what he used to do before ending up in prison, what he did to end up in there, the reason why he didn't get any visits... He wouldn't usually tell someone that, but it was different with you. He had the feeling that you understood him, that you could empathize with him and wouldn't judge him for just anything. On the other hand, he knew you were lying to him about why you ended up in prison and why you didn't really have any friends —in or out. But he knew it wasn't easy for you —he had already seen how difficult it was for you to keep your feelings controlled, so he didn't want to push things unnecessarily further. He wanted to give you your space, since he knew he had already kind of taken that from you the moment he insisted on continuing to talk with you.

Or at least he wanted to, until he saw that asshole beating the shit out of you in the shower stalls.

Frankie got there just in time before he punched all the teeth out of your mouth. He pulled him back and hit his head against one of the lockers, leaving him unconscious as well. Then he grabbed you and took you to the infirmary. He stayed there long enough to hear them say you were going to take some time until you were fully recovered, and that you would probably be unconscious for a couple days. He also heard them mention the other guy was better than you, that his time in bed would be briefer than yours.

A cop came to them both and asked them about what had happened. Frankie could only say that he had seen that asshole already beating you when he arrived. The cop could only say he would have to do extra work for a week as a punishment for leaving the other guy unconscious, but at least he understood Frankie just wanted to protect you.

"You did good", he said to him.

Then he went to talk to the other guy. And Frankie could only fist his hands and hope no to break anything.

"I was asking him to help me with something in the shower and he just started punching me!", was what he said.

"What about the wounds on his face?".

"Well, I had to protect myself!".

"Sure", the cop wrote something on a paper, then stood up. "As soon as you're out of bed, you're being transferred to the next block".

A smile formed on Frankie's lips as the guy shouted complaints at the cop. Still, he knew you weren't safe. Not yet. Not even with him away. And he knew his dogs were everywhere —this block, the next, the prison some kilometers away from that one...

But he would still try to keep you out of danger.

The next day, he was in his cell with his cellmate—who he usually didn't pay much attention to— when some guy came to tell them some shit about you. 

The truth about you.

Frankie didn't want to believe it at first. He couldn't. But the more he thought about it, more sense it made to him. Aside from your short frame and your beautiful little face —focus, Frankie, this ain't about that—, your explosive personality and your obsession over you being too weak or small kind of gave it away. It actually made sense. It was true.

He went that same day —after the night of your encounter with that fucker— to check on you to the infirmary. He wanted to know how were you doing, and he wanted to hear from you the truth of all the scene those guys were making over you. He was told you weren't conscious yet, but he stayed nonetheless —grabbed a chair and sat beside your bed.

He grabbed your hand softly in his, examining your broken knuckles and bloodied skin. He should have known better than to leave you alone like that in the shower stalls. He should have been with you. He should have protected you, like he had told himself he would. 

"I'm sorry", he whispered.

Distant voices woke you up. A female one and two males. You couldn't make out what they were saying, but you didn't need to. You remembered everything pretty well.

You tried to stretch yourself, despite the way your face was hurting terribly. Still, you couldn't move one of your arms. Your hand was being held by another.

You opened your eyes and saw Frankie sitting beside you, his hand holding yours even with his eyes closed. As soon as he felt you move, he opened them and sat up, staring into your eyes.

"Oh god", he breathed out. A smile played on his lips as he examined you. "You okay?".

His question made you laugh.

"Well, I've been better", you smiled at him. "But I'll survive", you looked around. "How long have I been...?".

"Four days. Well, three and a half", he swiped his thumb over the back of your hand, you figured involuntarily. "They've been taking good care of you".

"I bet...", you looked down at his hand on yours. Frankie pulled away as soon as he saw you do it.

"Sorry—".

"No, it's okay", you were the one to grab his hand this time. "I don't mind...", you whispered that last part. Frankie tried to hold back his own smile. Then something he remembered made it go away as soon as it had come. "What?", you stared into his eyes. He kept swiping his thumb small soothing circles on the back of your hand.

"Will you tell me—", he paused to breathe; "What's the deal with you?".

"What do you mean—".

"I know you lied to me, Lost", he tried to keep it cool, but his eyes gave away how mad he was at you for not having told him the truth and having gotten in so much trouble because of it. "I... I already know... a bit of it, but—".

You turned around to try and find the asshole that had shattered your face, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"They moved him a block away from here", he answered even before you could ask. "He still had the chance to spread the rumor, though". 

"Shit", you whispered to yourself. You looked down, biting your downer lip and trying to stop your own tears from coming out, trying to ignore the stinging pain in your face.

"Hey", he grabbed your chin softly, careful not to hurt you more than you already were, and made you look at him. "Tell me what's wrong", he spoke slowly. "Whatever it is, I don't care. It'll still be you no matter what", he caught a tear halfway down your face, his skin grazing lightly against yours. You took a deep breath.

"A... couple years ago... I had someone really close to me", you sniffed. "I... He got me... pregnant... And...", you dried off your tears. "I didn't want... I couldn't..." you took a shaky deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "He also tried to... run away...", you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. "He was into drugs... and was told to move... Without telling me...", you sighed in an attempt to ignore the way your breathing was starting to get heavy and your chest was starting to hurt. "I couldn't take it anymore", you sniffled again and looked away from Frankie, unable to maintain your eyes on his piercing look. "I shot him. And...", you lifted your shirt just enough to reveal a big scar that went across your stomach. "I shot the baby, too", your voice broke.

"Oh, Lost", he reached out to grab and hug you. "I'm so sorry", he rubbed your back, trying to calm you down a little. You held tight onto him, squeezing him as close to you as you could.

He kept you in his arms for a while as you cried out your grief. Everything made more sense after you told him the truth. He finally felt like he understood you, really understood you and your feelings. And he finally felt like his feelings were resolved, just like yours.

He had to leave when some cops came to interrogate you about what had happened in the shower stalls a few days ago, but he promised to come back to see you that night. In the meantime, you answered the cops' questions and tried to rest as well as your pain allowed you to.

You got out of bed a week after that. The first thing you did was hug Frankie, since he was waiting outside the infirmary. He took you to your cell, staying by your side and not walking more than two steps away from you. Everyone was looking at you either with a weirded out expression or with hungry eyes. As soon as you noticed, you got even closer to Frankie.

That was the moment you gave up on trying not to look small or weak. Every single man on that prison was now trying to fuck you or fuck you up. Damn, you had never felt so vulnerable.

Good thing I have my brick wall over here, you thought.

Frankie could see the looks the other inmates gave you, and the ones you gave them. If he felt like he had to protect you before, now he felt even more responsible —especially since he had let that motherfucker beat you like that. He felt guilty, and even though you tried to tell him it wasn't his fault he couldn't get that thought out of his mind.

"Look at me", you grabbed his jaw, making him look at you, just like he had down a week before when you were still in that bed in the infirmary —tough this time you were in your bed. "It wasn't your fault. I told you it was my problem and that I'd deal with it, and so I did".

"I know", he stared into your eyes. "But if I had done something, if I had gone talk to him or—".

"You couldn't, Frankie", you tightened your grip on his jaw. "Look, he had threatened to tell everyone if he found out I told you anything. It would've happened sooner or later, I just exploded when he asked me to do that with he and his men", you let go of him. "Think about it this way —if you hadn't come just in time to stop him from beating me to death, I wouldn't be here right now", you patted his thigh. "So you saved me anyway. And I also got you to keep me away from those creeps", you both laughed at that.

"I guess you're right", he sighed. "Still sorry".

"Didn't I just tell you not to be?", you crossed your arms and stared into his eyes with a frown. He couldn't help the smile that crept on his lips.

"But I still am", he crossed his arms as well. "What, am I not allowed to be?".

"Not if I tell you not to be".

"Ooh, getting bossy", he chuckled. "I like that".

"Okay, now you're acting like one of those freaks out there".

"Come on, y'know I'm not like—".

"Shut up, old man".

You grabbed his face and pulled him in for a kiss. A slow, passionate, nice kiss. Frankie stayed still for a moment before replying with just as much passion. You then pulled away to look into his eyes. You were both smiling.

"Wow", he whispered. "Didn't think you'd take the lead".

"Well, someone had to, and you didn't seem to be going to, so...", you grabbed his hand. "I couldn't bear the sexual tension anymore".

"Oh, sexual tension?", he rolled on top of you. "We can fix that...".

"No! Gross! Get away!", you laughed and pulled him off of you.

"Why?" he approached again, leaning down to leave a trail of small kisses down your neck. "I wanna...".

"Frankie, no", you pulled him off again, this time with a serious look on your face. Frankie's smirk was immediately deleted when he saw you, and seemed to be asking for an explanation. "I... I can't", you looked down. "Not like this, I'm... not ready", you cleared your throat before looking back up at him.

"M'kay", he grabbed your hand once more. "We won't do anythin' you don't wanna".

You smiled at him, thankful. He understood that you needed space and you weren't ready yet to show him that part of you. And he would respect you and your decision not to. The last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable, make you push him away from you. So he put it back in his pants and gave you a comforting smile.

He stuck with you all the time, by your side, not daring to leave you alone. Whenever some guy would look at you with a weird face, he gave him a warning look —or push him away from you both. He didn't let anyone other than the cops get close to you, which you thanked him for in multiple occasions. For once in a long, long time, you weren't afraid of being too small or weak. You weren't worried about your looks anymore. You weren't worried about anything with Frankie beside you. He was your only reason to want to keep going despite being in a place such as that damned prison. The only reason why you wanted to keep going at all.

The only reason why you preferred spending twenty years in prison before being back out in that shitty world.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal characters #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you

[cleromancy]

while from the doylist perspective the stories are specifically propping tim up compared to jason by doing this... i am obviously still very interested in, and compelled by, jason canonically having a pretty high opinion of tim going all the way back to their first meeting.

(for the record, absolutely nothing in-universe justifies jason having this opinion of tim up until tim springs him from prison imo. he beat the snot out of tim in tt29 and it wasn't even hard and yet for some fucking reason he still walks away thinking tim is a Better Robin than he was? like... ok. sure. more thoughts on this later in the post tho)

so the new earth (post-crisis pre-reboot) continuity tim-jason interactions we have, in order, are batman 617-618 (from batman: hush, this ones a retcon and barely counts, its just jason holding tim hostage with a batarang to his throat; and you might also get a glimpse of jay doing this in batman annual 25 lol but its in the other room so im not checking), tt29 (published in the middle of uth coming out, lol), tt47 (countdown tie-in), robin 177 and 182-183 (post-countdown, immediately after jason dumps his red robin costume and one of tims rogues fishes it out of the dumpster to wear, correctly intuiting *for some reason* that this will get to tim), and......... sigh. stupid battle for the stupid cowl.

(and, since were talking about jasons perspective, theres also the picture wall in lost days. i dont know what issue it is because to me lost days is not "made up" of "issues", it is one book i simply open to devour whole whilst weeping.)

i think tt 29 is the interaction i find the most frustrating because... we have an idea what tt29 would have been like if it were good. bc we have ga01 69-72. and granted Tim is such a cocky little shit (affectionate) that jason simply. Would probably not have been able to scare him no matter what, lol... but imagine if this fucking issue had been good.

ok cutting 4 length

the problem with johns. .......the FIRST problem with johns. is that he regularly has interesting ideas and his execution of them completely falls flat. the second problem with johns is that he can't write dialogue. the third problem with johns is that it was really really important to him that you understood what a Talented And Special Boy tim is but instead of showing you that he just forced other characters to. tell you. over and over. jason is not johns' only victim in this quest. (and johns was also not the only perpetrator, as we will see when i get to fuckin fabnic.)

but like i said i *am* actually interested in the potential here, because i do think there is potential.

and i also think that--at least when you read into it as deeply as i do--jason is sympathetic in this issue. (don't give me "hes beating up a child" crap here btw. jason's only 2-3 years older, tims a peer to him, they could easily have gone to high school together if jason hadnt fuckin died.) johns deliberately shows us Jason hoping raven gets a reprieve from the nightmares, and he certainly was *trying* to show us how much it would fucking suck to be remembered as the Bad Robin, forgotten except to be a cautionary tale, what kind of things that would do to a person emotionally. AND he makes a point of highlighting Jason's loneliness and isolation as robin, and. tbh i dont think the issue itself rly blames Jason for that. (you most certainly do not gotta hand it to him though. under no circumstances do you gotta hand it to johns for anything.)

and while jason tearing off his clothes to reveal his party city knockoff robin costume--the better to beat you with, my dear--was, erm. falling mostly on the wrong side of the line btwn camp and cringe... i do think jason writing his own name in blood on the wall was right on the money, *especially* because it was obviously not tims blood. like, tim wasnt bleeding anywhere near enough for that. it was either fake blood or jason prepped his own beforehand for them to DNA test--but also if they saw it before they saw tim, to make them fear for tims life, as a reminder of the risks theyre dealing with here.

oh but i was planning on talking specifically about like. what Jason might actually have seen in tim that left him with a positive impression. as-written? kinda nothing. lmao. or well the one thing imo is this

just kidding i couldn't find the panelz somehow despite posting them literally like yesterday and i ran into this lol:

>:| got distracted again. by this.

anyway i give up ill add the pics later. but its the exchange where jason has *decisively* won the fight, tims crumpled on the floor concussed and winded, and jason demands if tim *really* thinks he was good enough to tail bruce unnoticed for weeks.

and tim says "yes." hes beat up enough he can barely talk but there's still no hesitation whatsoever. and jason is *really* down on himself in this issue--he calls himself a failure, he feels like no one cared about his death, he feels unremembered. and jasons stated intentions here were to get the measure of tim but i also stand by the interpretation that he wanted to warn tim off of the sidekick gig, to remind him you uh. you have to be dick fucking grayson to survive it. (i dont believe either of them mentions him by name, but hey, dicks shadow is big enough for the both of them.)

i think what jason finds worthy of respect here--and, on top of that, intriguing enough that in robin 177 he entreats tim to join him--is the confidence, and also? at absolutely no point does tim believe jason is there to kill him. not a fuckin high bar, i know, but like i said i do think jason had *planned* to try and scare tim off (just also mega derailed himself by accident bc he got too in his feelings about the statue room 🥺), and... its not a bar he would have expected Tim to clear, is all im saying. particularly because while it is *possible* this took place in the middle of uth (tt 29 was released in november 05, between batman 646 and 647, which is the part where slade shows up bc black mask hired him to take jason out, so tt29 couldnt have happened in the middle of those two specific issues, but there are several other points at which jason could have taken a break in menacing gotham to fly to san Francisco), with Jason talking so negatively about himself i have to assume this is after the end of uth.

(you might be able to place this in the in-universe chronology by if/when teen titans mentions chemo dropping on bludhaven, which happens immediately before the bruce-jason-joker final showdown. however i dont feel like poking around for that or any other details to anchor tt29 to the other events happening at the time rn.)

i just also think so much of what jasons doing in this issue is like--he doesn't know *what* hes there to do. he had a plan and hes kinda fumbling it, not because tim is being especially resourceful but because jasons still licking his emotional wounds from uth, and titans tower is bringing up ones i dont think he ever realized hadnt healed. hes feeling everything at once. hes angry and hurt and full of self loathing but i think by the time tim simply says "yes," jason hits the stage of just being... burnt out. done lashing out, fucking tired, just wants to go home, if he can ever find it.

but i do think that "yes" would stick in his craw for a long time afterwards.

tt47: tim kicks jason in the nuts and pretty much declares them even for tt29 lolol. you may have seen my post about how jason only *sometimes* wears armor in countdown--hes drawn in the armored turtleneck and tac pants in tt47, but there are times in countdown hes out there fighting aliens and metas and shit in his jacket, a *t-shirt,* and *jeans.* just a squishy regular degular baseline human doing this and no one ever brings it up. but anyway. do i think tim would have seen jason wearing the equivalent of civvies plus a domino mask, narrow in on that, and immediately decide to kick him in the balls? i sure do. do i also think that this would make him rise in jasons estimation?

yeah. yeah, i really do. lol

anyway after this! after this is jasons briefish world-hopping stint as red robin saving the universe being a big damn hero and getting paid dust by everyone around him, in countdown; i think i mentioned before in this post that at the end he abandons the red robin suit in a dumpster, where it gets picked up by one of tims rogues. this storyline sucks and fabnic is a hack unfortunately. the rogue did it bc he wants tims attention or whatever. not important except for how irritating it is that fabnic fumbled a concept this juicy (tim inheriting and eventually purposely adopting The Bad Robin Mantle) which is also further fumbled by stupid battle for the stupid cowl, and the people who it falls to to salvage it are. johns again, in adventure comics 3, and yost, who is a better writer than johns or fabnic but not by like a huge margin.

and while i do think tim having a bad opinion of jason at this point was inevitable i find it so frustrating the way it was executed... like so often with Bad Tim Writing and also fuckin DC Editorial's Jason Slander Agenda shit it wasn't because in-universe thats how the characters would feel, the writer was using tim as a mouthpiece, and jasons competence and things he cares about arent taken seriously... BUT WHATEVER the point is that when Tim goes to stop Jason from his villainous scheme to reduce crime or whatevr jason has such a high opinion of him that he asks tim to join him:

and jasons loneliness, his desperation to be heard, is such a theme for him in the new earth/post crisis era and i wish it had been. Handled better lol are you noticig a theme here its that Jason has been written badly. (tim too, tbh.) and when tim says no jasons dejected but unsurprised acceptance breaks my heart. but to me the most interesting part of jasons appearance at the end of tims robin series is in 182, when tim--for absolutely no good reason--gives jason the means to break out of prison.

he says something about how its what Bruce would have wanted, but for. reasons i wont get too deeply into rn, that absolutely does not hold water.

anyway i just think there's no way jason doesn't start crushing on tim at least a little at this point. shrug.

bftc sucks and i dont want to look at it rn. but its also got examples of jasons high opinion of tim. and also im mad at it bc both countdown AND his appearances in robin feel like they could have been taking jason to a like. more of an antihero type of role and then we get bftc and morrison and its kind of. fucking hard to get jason anywhere near back on track after that for those of us who still like playibg in the post-crisis pre-reboot sandbox. and i wouldnt be mad about that if bftc had been good bc Jason absolutely does make an incredibly interesting and effective and tragic antagonist when handled well but well. he wasnt. and i have no idea what bftc would.have even been like if it was good bc it was so off the wall and dumb and assassinated actually *everyones* characters. so.

anyway

im just going to roll back to robin 183 now

jasons referring to the damage tim got when he got a little bit exploded in 180, this pretty nasty burn on the back of his head, which was actually why he wore jasons RR cowl for the first time (he was still robin). but what you do see here--aside from Tims narration which puts him *firmly* on the side of obnoxiously arrogant and judgmental instead of charmingly cocky in this issue, to my estimation, thanks for nothing fabnic--is the two of them on firmly cordial terms. jason still thinks more highly than tim does of him, but theyre asking each other about their injuries... tim caring about the wellbeing of people he doesn't even like is par for the course with him, ofc, but once again Jason doesn't really get that a whole lot. constantly haunted by this panel from countdown btw:

does he though!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

here is another jaytim preboot canon interactions post from a few months ago with some more thoughts, some repeated lol.

anyway. incoherent rambling complete for now. however. jaytim time is all the time 👍 i will revisit this.

#dc #text #jaytim again? no problem #jaytim #meta #jaytim text

[the-final-sif]

Anyways, time to try to figure out this fucking cake. c!Dream gets his allies involved to solve this conundrum, and neither of them are helpful.

As it turned out, Punz could not figure out Sam's handwriting. Neither could Ranboo when he was eventually looped in on the topic of The Cake.

Dream sent several photos to their group chat, and neither of them could make out any of the other words, meaning he was realistically back at stage one, and now Punz was worried. Which was bad.

It wasn't unfair, Dream had to admit that he'd... been inaccurate in his estimates of how dangerous the prison was. He was able to own up to that. He was also perfectly aware of how Punz worried, and how... badly... the man had taken the news of torture.

But in this case, everything was fine. Mostly. Ponk would back soon. Dream could fight back. Everything was fine.

Except for the cake.

Punz was worried about a threat, and now he wanted to intervene, and Dream couldn't have that. He didn't want to lie to Punz, but he wasn't sure if he had any other options.

It didn't help that Punz was making a point.

'If he didn't mean it as a threat, why wouldn't he give you a plate or something?'

The question was valid, and sparked doubt. If Sam really intended for Dream to eat this cake, why wouldn't he have cut it up? Or brought-

No sooner had Dream started engaging with that thought, the door started sliding open.

Instantly, he was on alert. His hand was on the knife Ponk had given him. If Sam thought that he was stupid enough to eat that, that it would weaken-

Sam... didn't appear hostile. He looked... embarrassed? And he had... a plate and silverware.

It'd been awhile since Dream's last ear drops, and his headache was back in full force (not to mention Sam neglected to remove his gas mask), so he had no idea what Sam said as he put the plate and silverware on the nightstand by the cake before quickly turning and skittering out of the room. Obviously nervous.

Well fuck, now this was complicated again.

Dream quickly sent an update.

'He just brought me a plate. He also forgot I can't hear him again, but it looked like he was embarrassed. Pretty sure he just forgot.'

That triggered a quick reply from Ranboo,

'HA! told you hes just stupid, hes not smart enough to make a subtle threat like this.'

Ranboo had interestingly taken the side of "Sam's an idiot" in this debate, while Punz was firmly in the camp of the cake being an attempted threat.

Speaking of which

'oh, great, so he realized you need a plate to eat his poison cake, but not that it's poisonous to you? that sounds totally normal.'

Dream found himself instinctively typing out a defense of Sam,

'Ponk has me on a mostly human diet, I'm eating meat, maybe-

The message sat unsent, growing more and more uncomfortable. Dream didn't want to defend Sam. He wanted Punz to stay safe, but that could be accomplished in other ways. The impulse to defend Sam's actions was... uncomfortable.

Deleting the message, Dream switched tactics in hopes of preventing an incident.

'My head is killing me, I need a nap, it's fine, I'm not going to eat the cake. I've got my safeguards. If anything happens, I'll let you know. Just stay away for now, okay?'

He waited just long enough to see Punz's reply, something that took almost 5 minutes of typing.

'fine. im setting up nearby, if anything happens, im less than 5 mins away. check in after dinner.'

That was annoying, but at the very least Punz wasn't going to get caught. If he got spotted in the area then he had plenty of easy excuses with the current situation.

Dream tucked his communicator away and wiggled until he was under the covers. Shutting his eyes provided an instant sense of relief.

He wasn't really intending to fall asleep, but once his eyes were shut, the call to nap was overwhelming.

One moment, he was letting out a slow breath and then-

Something was touching him.

#c!dream #staged duo #c!staged duo #c!punz #c!ranboo #c!sam #c!awesamdream #dsmp #dream smp #apology cake AU #sif speaks #sif writes #my headcanons #anyways apology cake au be upon you #litsen bunny cdream is in my brain

[whumblr]

Since Jay's and Zayne's relationship has grown since the warehouse and the visitation at prison. Maybe we could see a reunion? Maybe intimate? Since Jay couldn't handle the thought of cuddles even after being straddled multiple times, lol spicy intimate? Jay's nerves still wrecked, but he likes it? Idk lol

They don't have much reunions, only in court and prison. So this is the most intimate they'll get :D

-

Untouchable

Jay felt a tiny twinge of guilt as he noticed Zayne lit up when he was sat at his table in the visitor's room. He hadn't visited in a while. But of course, as soon as the guy opened his mouth, that guilt melted away.

"Good to see you!" Zayne started enthusiastically. "I've missed you, you know. It's been so long since we had our bouts, I've been itching to drag you over and slam you down on this table."

Besides rolling his eyes, Jay didn't repond; he wasn't impressed nor intimidated.

"If it's violence you're after, I'm sure there's plenty people here willing to scratch that itch." Getting his ass beat for once might get him to simmer down for a bit. "What about that big guy over there? He seems like he'd appreciate you picking a fight with him."

"I tried, he didn't. He's a genuinely nice guy and anti-violence."

Jay swallowed the urge to ask what the hell he was in here for then. But yeah, of course he fucking tried.

"Now that little weasel guy, over there," Zayne rested a fist under his chin and discreetly pointed a single finger, "he was more than willing."

"Do the guards here even serve a purpose? How many fights did you pick?"

"You find the quiet spots. But I prefer fighting with you. It's more fun."

"Because you know you can win."

"No, because you fight in your own unique way."

"Instigating violence in the visitation room would be a unique way to show you've completely lost it."

Zayne pondered that with a smile. "You think?"

"Positive. I'm untouchable here."

"You just said the guards are useless here yet you feel safe." Zayne leaned forward, twinkle in his eye and a mischievous grin. "Untouchable huh? I disagree."

And Jay completely stiffened up when he felt the toes of Zayne's canvas shoes slide up along the inside of his shin.

Zayne burst out laughing and Jay assumed he went red.

"That's it. That's the itch." He slid his foot down again and caught Jay's ankle in-between both shoes, still leering at Jay with hooded eyes.

"Will you stop it," Jay hissed, trying to pull free. "I'm actually here to discuss something serious."

"I know, that's why I'm changing the subject."

"I scratched your itch now you scratch mine."

Zayne sighed and, after a beat, sat back, releasing Jay's ankle. "I saw your face, during the trial," he said, looking away now and his tone more serious. "Knew you were gonna hassle me about it."

"Yep. So tell." Jay swung his feet back, safely under his chair.

After a long silence, Zayne finally said: "Remember when you asked me about my bruised hands?"

-

Tag list: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @hurtmebeautifully @rougenoirofthepurpleterror @susiequaz12 @whump-me-all-night-long @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @im-just-here-for-the-whump @restrainthenmaime @freefallingup13 @whatwasmyprevioususername @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @firewheeesky @redstainedsocks @hold-back-on-the-comfort @whumpawink @break-so-beautifully @approach-me-and-ill-cry @painsandconfusion @afabulousmrtake @wormwriting @soopytime @whumpedydump @pickleking8 @itsmyworld98

#foreshadowing some new drabble #like hiding lore in anon asks #I doubt this is even allowed in prison but hey #it's a zany kind of week #so have a smol zayny drabble #Zayne *sniffly* you only visit when you want to know something never to just let me bully you #hiwthi #hiwthi drabbles #my writing #asks #anon

[batmanego]

Mind wipes

I know he has a dog symbiote daughter.

Mind wipes?

oh man. okay deadpool 2023 is a travesty to me personally as it has genuinely replaced ellie (wades actual daughter) with a fucking dog. but yes. the mind wipes.

in deadpool 2013, its revealed that for pretty much his entire adult life, wade has been routinely kidnapped, had his organs harvested, and then had his memories erased by a man named butler. occasionally after having his memories erased he is loosed upon various people to kill them just to see if he will. the most notable of these are his parents, who butler had wade burn to death in their home. which he does, because he doesn't remember them being his parents or recognize his own room or anything. here's that sequence, plus a cover that makes me feel like im being killed.

something else really cool butler did was wipe wades memories of his daughter + her mother, kidnap both of them, send the mother to a prisoner of war camp, and send the daughter to live with his. brother? i can't really remember the specifics.

wade ends up killing butler. it's a really good sequence and what i consider to be one of the more influential ones in his comic history. (slightly abridged for my sake)

in summary: yes, the mind wipes. these are a pretty big part of wades character present in deadpool 2013 and the first half of deadpool 2016. unfortunately, gerry duggan is an idiot, and he ended up soft retconning all of this and the associated character growth by having wade take so many mind wiping drugs that it essentially set his characterization back to pre-posehn dp. and we've had that characterization ever since (so for roughly the last 5 years).

writers still play at the idea of ellie, but they fail to grasp the specifics of the situation -- wade is not only wracked by grief every time he sees her, but cannot allow himself to be near her because it puts her in danger. he can only watch her life from a distance. carmelita has been all but forgotten, save for one reference in deadpool 2023 where wade says she's dead, and nobody has acknowledged the emotional consequences of the decade of mind wiping that wade was subjected to.

#deadpool #wade wilson #marvel #long post

[lvxybby]

Our Messiah, Kai anderson x reader

3RD POV: you had recently given birth to your 2 week old baby girl, Jade. you were resting your eyes as your sleeping daughter was held in your arms. you tried so hard to sleep but it was either jade crying or paranoia keeping you awake. you heard the door open and voices fill the room before a loud shush quieted them. kai and everyone else stood before you, watching you hold your daughter. "you're dismissed" kai spoke in his regular plain voice. everyone exited the room except him. "hey" kai whispered as he approached the couch. you hummed as you held jade closer to your body. he knelt down and pet your head. he knows your completely drained from your mother duties. he honestly felt a bit of sorrow for you since you weren't sleeping at all anymore. it was really concerning to him. you and his daughter were his pride and joy. he would do anything to ensure your safety. "hey sweetheart" kai said focusing his attention to his sleeping daughter. he placed a small kiss on her forehead. "kai...?" you asked peeking open your eyes. "yeah?" he responded "is jade ok? is she still asleep?" you said with your eyes closed. "yeah...dont worry about her..." kai said with a smile. "how long are you going to keep doing this..." you said cuddling jade closer to you "what? keep doing what" kai asked. "y'know...the cult shit...im tired of constantly being put in danger" you said peeking open your eyes. "im doing this to keep you safe...to help us...are you not grateful for the work im putting in for you? the work im putting in to keep my family safe? the SHIT i do to make you happy!? HUH" he shouted. "kai please dont yell" you said waking up fully. "i never said that...its just im really scared cause...im worried about you too...i dont want you to get hurt or die doing some crazy shit! night of 100 tates? seriously kai! when you did that i was scared for my life too! i was scared you were going to kill me cause i was pregnant! i was scared you would get caught and go to prison! and im scared about the fact you talk to yourself! you scare me!" you cried out. your daughter woke up and began to look around. "oh really!? really?! i am perfectly fine! you are fine! i do this for you! for my daughter! for my job!" kai shouted. "KILLING PEOPLE ISNT A JOB KAI ANDERSON" you shouted. you stood up with jade and left the room. she was quietly crying now. you went upstairs to your shared room and grabbed the knife from under your mattress. kai kept it there for safety. you ran into the bathroom and slammed the door and locked it. you pressed your feet against the door as hard as you could. you heard kai chase you up the stairs and into the room. "open this door right fucking now" he said pulling on the door handle. you were scared. you cried with your daughter as you embraced her. you wrapped around her and sobbed. you were scared of your own husband. the man you trusted with every cell in your body to take care of your daughter and you, is banging on the door telling you to open it or he'll hurt you. "Y/N i'll bust this door down and fucking beat you! open it right now" he ordered. you pressed with your feet harder. you were shaking. you worried for you and your daughters lives at that point since kai was on the verge of insanity. you and jade were basically the only thing keeping him from going mad. you and jade were that tiny piece. next thing you know the door flew open and kai stood there. he was pissed off. but his expression changed when he saw you and your daughter sobbing. you were shaking like crazy and you had your daughter wrapped around you tighter than ever. you were hyperventilating like hell. you weren't able to breathe at all. you held the knife in your hands with a tight grip. "Y/N...oh..oh...god...i-" tears began to form in his eyes. his voice shook. "im so sorry..." he said. he reached out for you but you backed away. tears streamed down his face. "Y/N please im sorry" he cried. you gripped the knife tighter. you weren't going to risk your child getting hurt. kai sat on the floor across from you.

#kai anderson x reader #american horror story #part 2 soon

[purpleglitch]

READ @demonstars 'S ROLESWAP!DNF FIC RIGHT NOWW!!!!

-> -> -> -> (CLICK HERE) <- <- <- <-

Ok warning this is very long, i'm gonna ramble about the fic on itself here because UGFHGHHG i cried ��💖 nunki tqm te debo mi vida entera

Starting with RS!George's pov during the prison break i love that so much, he's so chaotic in this au i really liked how he's the main focus :((( ohhgg the scrungly, and besides dnf being the main relatioship of the story i can't stop thinking about the silly dynamic of george and techno and the vibe of "we're not that close but you're my best friend's lover so i'll help you i guess :/", and them immediatly rushing to hana kingdom looking for dream with the compass.

THE VISUALS!!!! i love love love how it was all described, the imagery, all the plants and flowers surrounding the castle and after reading it, thinking how a big part of it was probably HD's influence on the world trying to keep dream hidden (and trapped), the fact that the kingdom was meant to be a safe place for "war criminals" according to dream, and they both thinking he meant a safe place for george,,, hheartbreakign reading about sapnap's absence in the kingdom to keep an eye on dream and also not appearing during the chase to capture george after breaking out of pandora like MAN. (also FUCK Q) my poor fucking cat george dealing with so much pain for a year im goign to throw uo :(

george knows thanks to techno that dream is going to welcome him back with open arms but still he's scared of the small possibility of dream not being in his room and all the scenarios of why that would be, but not wanting to show that panic to techno so he covers it with insults and deflection. and how for a split second he thought the worst case scenario happened and someone killed dream on their way there (ALSO GEORGE'S PARANOIA MENTION :c ). I love the imagery of dream being like the sun for the flowers and how even the sunflowers are ignoring the actual sun to point directly to a sleeping dream, they're dependent on him, like the world's connection and pure love for its admin but amplified by HD's wish to keep him for himself (or i'm reading too much into it lmao).

I keep thinking about the rs!dteam flashback because it's making me insane,, sapnap adoring dream's admin powers but george not caring too much about it because he cared more about dream himself, and deciding that he's going to protect him and sapnap following him and training together to become dream's bodyguards and if i keep talking about it i will burst into tears,,,,,,,

the fact that the flowers and vines and plants are covering dream even blooming from his own chest and holding him down as he sleeps,,, this would go hard as a painting like if you agree. but also george defending dream and how HE is the one that knows dream the best not even any of their other closest friends like sapnap, punz or even techno, his jealousy demons are insane like if you agree. I also kept jumping on my seat whenever i noticed a referenced to lore we've talked about before like the dnf chains and dream pleading techno to rescue george from pandora ooohhggg the details,,, and techno joking about how it's the last time he does dream a favor but deep down he also cares about him that's his dearest rival and he really doesn't want him suffering :((

PAUSEEEEE I LOVE THE STORYY OF HD, XD AND PVP AND THEIR BATTLE FUCKKKK i was thinking about it because i didnt know what to do to make both pvp and xd die so hd could become a lonely god (and also applying it to dsmp canon with dreamxd) and this way is SO GOOD!!! they were doomed and my chest hurts thinking about them, “Sometimes people do stupid shit for those they love, I dunno,” I'm biting my arm off oh my gODDDD.

AND NOW HD'S BIG ENTRANCE YASSSS, and the reveal of george having talked with hd multiple times in prison and his warning of staying away from dream, and how possesive he is with dream while he's sleeping, I LOVEEEE the way it's added the uncanny valley to hd's appearance, it's my fav hc how xd and hd look so perfectly like dream and george to the point of no humanity, their faces so perfect it's evident they're pretending to be human, trying to replicate all in looks and flaws, like george's pride, and george defeating hd by making him realize that dream never cared for him, he only wanted george and only wanted hd because he was replacing george but also hd wanting dream because he was replacing xd after he died.

and george realizing that it's his fault dream got hurt by hd and him during the dethronement so he wants to free him and let him choose next even if it meant him staying away from george, that's why george telling hd that "life moves on" also soothes his soul, they both lost their lovers (by not being able to stop his fight against their other friend, and by trying to keep him away from conflict he drove him away) so george thought he also needed to move on if dream hates him because of what he did. but finally dream wakes up as hd's curse is lifted and he doesn't hate george, he's angry because he left and didn't came back for him (until now) and they still have feelings for each other YIPPEEEEEEE

can i say that i imagine off screen dream and george taking a bath together and dream tending george's wounds from torture and putting bandages on him and they're soft and cute and cry and TALK and it's an intimate moment where they connect again and it's a new beginning for them together again <3

and george's version of the gods story having a happy ending, giving hd his own happy ending too :( and it's what he believes as the story is mentioned to have multiple versions, so i think that as long as george believes that HD XD and PVP lived and are happy, it would be true :) or idk at this point i kinda zoned out i probably misinterpreted this LMAO SORRYYYY. but anyway DNF CUDDLING!!! THE REAL GOOD ENDING!!! and finally,,,,, dream is finally free from hd's curse to sleep for longer, the flowers are gone. he's gonna wake up to an embrace of his lover and start living <3

I BELIEVE IN HAPPY RS!DNF ENDGAME!!! AGAIN THANK SO MUCH FOR THIS FIC I KEEP SAYING THIS EVERYWHERE I CAN BUT IM SO GRATEFUL FOR THIS AND ALL THE ART YOU'VE MADE AND FOR LISTENING (reading¿) MY SELF INDULGENT STUFF 😭😭💖💖💕💕 i hope this made sense i started zoning out at the end of writing this so i'm really sorry if i misinterpreted some scenes!!! feel free to correct me nunkito :3 and thank u nov for hosting dtblr secret santa i loved this,, ooghghgg

#glitch.txt #Roleswap AU #!!! <3

[journalsouppe]

This is a repost with better images (and the original was posted to my main blog not here)

Uncensored version and close ups below!!

Also apologies for the small and crazy writing, I went insane playing this game and had a lot to say about it LMAO

Stickers are from NoodlesandTeaShop on etsy!!

Rating: 10/10 Played: Su 2022 Port: N. Switch Favorite? Y Replayable: Y Recommended? Y

Comments

my first ace attorney game!!

omg the little anime scenes are so cool

The twist endings/court conclusions are so well made

oh my god I'm in love with Kazuma <3 his theme T-T

each character has such a distinct personality esp from just their animation

I love the [sholmes/iris/ryuu] forhead thing

yeah I'm also in love with Ryuu T-T

the logic and reasoning spectaculars are my favorite thing they're so fun and stupid

Sholmes and Iris are the cutest dad and daughter duo

FIREWORKS? IN THE COURTROOM??

I am so stressed about the Hounds of the Baskerville case O_o

British Ryuu jumpscare

CHUUNOSUKE ON RYUU'S SHOULDER T-T

I like Gina's new job and personality

Ayy Gregsy is back

ohh the great departed soul is both Susato and Kazuma omg

AMNESIA? T^T

Ryuu is scared of everything and I adore it [me too Ryuu]

PLAGUE DOCTOR WANTS TO CUT ME UP??

The wax museum is horrifying wtf

case 8 [2-3] is an all time favorite

HOLY FUCK

[Phonograph sticker] looks just like Barok's

Love goofy Herlock clothes

Case 2-4 specific comments

THE PARALLELS ARE CRAZY

give me your damn sword Kazuma you don't need two of them

KAZUMA'S NEW THEME????

KAZUIMA'S FATHER?

DEAD?

I love how confident, sure, and determined Ryuu is now

bullying Ryu to pay the vendors T-T

is this a fake trial??

Beppo!!!

STOP FLIRTING IN THE MIDDLE OF A TRIAL

Was the will the note sent to Kazuma?

Finishing each others sentences

love [prison warders and a prosecutor, reborn] 10/10 music

Case 2-5 specific comments

FUCK NOT STRONGHART

Kazuma [eye roll]

JIGOKU???

The girls are FIGHTING [kazuma and barok]

IM MIKOTOBA OMG OMG INVESTIGATION

Elementary my dear Mikotoba T^T

TAP DANCING

Was the sword broken from Genshin? NVM LOL [im dumb]

Gregson in the luggage is so fucked

They're all family T-T brother Ryuu

Kazuma's theme is both intimidating but assuring

HOLOGRAM??

THE DANCE????

Iris Van Zieks... IRIS SHOLMES

THE CREDITS, I'm not okay

Game Dev notes

Masterfully done music, esp reinvented themes for change

incredible animations, gives each character so much personality

great story telling - best visual novel for length, story, interest, etc

chronicles has its own achievements - encourages replayability

great pacing and saving - east to pick up and set down

amazing foreshadowing - whole series planned together

incredible balance of comedy and tragedy

takes preexisting stories and tropes and masterfully retells them

Summary:

I'm afraid I won't have enough room to describe how much I love this game. I don't even know where to start :'). This game is a masterpiece of masterpieces. Easily comparable to FMAB in terms of incredible storytelling, foreshadowing, mystery, tragedy, comedy, score, design, you name it. I have never genuinely been so shocked by the surprises in this game, but they were all so well made and fit in the story seamlessly. The tragedy and comedy, the two most important aspects of a story to me, were not only very well balanced, but were used as expert emotional devices throughout the game. The character design is incredible. Small details such as Ryuu's arm brace or Enoch's mechanisms or Iris's dolls add such character and personality even if some of these details aren't plot relevant. Each character has a unique body type, face shape, facial features, etc that it is easy to identify each character without their hair or clothes. The deigns are also so brilliant that it even taught me how to not only draw older people and children, but to be able to distinguish between teenagers and 20-30 year olds in my art (instead of all looking the same age). The animations are beautiful and so ridiculous. I always looked forward to interacting with Herlock and the witnesses. These games also have one of my favorite scores, especially the way they are able to turn established themes on their heads. The music does an amazing job at establishing setting, character, tension, emotion, you name it. Now for the story telling. Holy fucking shit. Holy shit. You don't even realize how important every small is until it hits you in the face. This is a story that will rival my 1st place spot of FMAB [in terms of all media]. It is so beautifully designed and thought over that I can only say the writers at Capcom are true geniuses to make this story. It doesn't hold back any punches but also comforts you. It toys with your emotions and is smth almost evil, but it also gives you hope and confidence and lifts you up so that you can scream to the world. The key to this is Ryuu. He's no avatar like Link but you and him share a strong bond through shared experience. It was an ingenious move to have the first story be Ryuu accused of murder, you learn the hardest way possible how to become a defense attorney of true integrity. His relations to others is this game is incredible too. The betrayal, the longing, the tenderness. Him and Susato have an incredible "sibling" bond to where I truly felt anxious without her. Not to mention Kazuma. A human through and through. Once thought to be the righteous angel, he had later fallen from heaven just to learn the truth of who he and his father really are. Even as the game has ended, I still sit and contemplate on these characters. Although it was the right decision for Kazuma to stay, I am still in pain from their separation. I really wish I could say more but it's also hard to put into words all my feelings with so little space. If I could forget this game just to experience it again, I would. An outstanding work of art. I highly recommend. My new favorite game.

#dgs #video game journal #journalsouppe #bullet journal #ace attorney #journal #tgaa #dai gyakuten saiban #the great ace attorney #the great ace attorney chronicles #ryunosuke naruhodo #kazuma asougi #susato mikotoba #barok van zieks

[hostilemuppet]

So, backstory. I (39M) married my husband (29M) a few years ago (I was 36, he was 26). We got together after a passionate night of lovemaking in a motel room after meeting in a gay bar. I realised the next day that the handsome stranger was actually the guy who had made multiple attempts on one of my brothers (28M, then 24) life (dont ask why hes not in prison, money can accomplish anything) and figured out pretty quickly that he was using me to make my brother miserable. Now since he was playing with my heart, I thought that at least I should have my own fun, yknow? So I started messing with him a little, encouraging PDA that he wasn't really that interested in (were both pretty high profile so public image was important to him, and also im not sure if he even liked boys?), "influencing" him to buy me things I didnt need. I'm not a monster, I was just fucking with him a little for funsies.

Anyway eventually I asked if he actually loved me etc etc so he bought us cruise tickets and the proposal was beautiful and the ceremony even more so. He moved in and I let him bring very few of his belongings (hes a hippie). Soon we had twins (0F, 0M) (he stayed home while I worked (my job is not important)) and life was great. Soon the cat got let out the bag and he found out that I knew that he was trying to use me for my brother (who was also in on the situation). He said something about divorce so I threatened to tell everyone every little detail, even that /thing/ he likes. What followed was 8 more months of constant psychological warfare and the best sex I've ever had, until the unthinkable happened.

We actually started to fall for each other. Now I'm not proud, what with the twins and all, but I instantly filed for divorce (i am also a child of divorce, okay, I've got commitment issues and it made it too real, weve all got flaws). He got full custody and I got to return to my bachelor lifestyle. And it. was. MISERABLE. I missed him so much. I missed pissing him off. I missed when he'd get mad and put dairy milk in my coffee to make me sick. I missed the way every time we woke up hed say "morning, my bitch husband who I hate" and id call him sweetie and kiss him on the cheek as he stewed in rage. I even missed the kids!

A couple years (and several rehab admissions, mostly mine) later we ran into each other at some charity event that I don't even remember what was for. I asked him how the twins were doing. He said they were good. He said I was looking well. I returned the compliment. We both had some wine. Next thing I knew, it was morning and we were married again. Now, I know what you're thinking, but he said he missed me too, and yeah he's the only partner I've ever had that's lasted longer than 2 months so maybe I don't have the best history but I really think we can make it work this time!

Tl;dr: AITA for turning my little brothers mortal enemy gay?

Edit: stop asking who I am, none of you know who I am, I am anonymous, that is the point duh

Edit 2: i am not Floyd [lastname]-[lastname2]

Edit 3: I mean it, I am not Floyd. I dont care if the ages and timelines match up

Edit 4: just bc my husband is a hippie doesn't mean he's the only hippie you guys know of

Edit 5: a lot of celebrities have fraternal twins

Edit 6: fuck you guys

#twitter drama au #text

[moons-cozy-corner]

It's Necessary

Holy crud its been MONTHS and I havent posted ANYTHING but IM BACK and with some whumpy sustenance for you!

TW: unskillful attempt at healing, restraints, mention of torture/implied past torture, crying, blood (as always, tell me if I've missed something!)

Whumper missed again, the cotton swab hitting only air as Whumpee squirmed once again out of their reach, falling onto their side this time. This had been going on for ten minutes now, and Whumper was getting seriously tired of it.

Instead they took a deep breath, grabbing the other by the ropes that bound their wrists and pulling them into a seated position again. You’d think Whumpee would just stay still, considering the couch was way softer than the old mattress was.

Whumpee eyed them, glared at them, as they reached for the peroxide, dabbing a bit more on the cotton swab before turning back to Whumpee. The poor thing had blood crusted in their hair, splattered all over their face and shirt. The bruises on their face weren’t even Whumper’s doing; Whumpee had fallen hard on the floor from struggling so hard, and couldn’t even put their hand in front of them to save themself.

"Can't you stay still for one minute? You really are stretching this out, Whumpee."

"Oh, I'm the one dragging this out?" Whumpee scoffed, dodging another of Whumpers attempts to help them. "And how long have you kept me here? Fucking over my life for something that isn't even my fault!" Tears now. Great. Just what Whumper needed.

Whumper groaned, throwing down the first aid supplies and standing, bringing Whumpee up with them. "You're nothing but an ingrateful piece of shit!" The entire room echoed with the thud of Whumpee's head banging off of the hardwood floor. Shit.

Whumper fell to the ground at their captives side, pulling them up slowly. The other let out a choked sob, tears falling from their unblinking eyes. "Whumpee, I'm..." No. This was their prisoner, not their friend. "Get up. If you're refusing treatment then we're going to continue."

Their gazes locked. "N- Whumper, please. Please, I'll stop being difficult. I don't want more, no more!" The whining was impossibly loud in the near empty room. Abandoned houses were meant to be quiet.

Whumper scowled, dragging the sobbing bleeding mess behind them as they walked back to the torture room. "Should have thought o' that before pissing me off." They threw Whumpee into the room before slamming the door. Whumper refused to enter with them. They kept telling themself it was necessary, that doing this was for the betterment of so many others. If they could just get what they needed…

But it had been months. Whumper sank to the floor with their back against the door to Whumpee’s room. Their chest racked with silent sobs, invisible tears tore down their cheeks. All they needed was to lure out Villain, or to get an answer out of Whumpee. But it was getting harder to believe Whumpee knew anything, and the hope that any of this would help was becoming hopeless.

Whumper knew that Villain deserved to deal with the loss of a child. That Whumpee should die just to make Villain suffer. That was what they’d believed, why they’d never stopped. But now…

A weak thud sounded from the door. “S-sir, please. Let me- lemme out… please, help me, I- I'm sorry, Sir, please-" A sob echoed the space around Whumpers head, that of their captors and nearly one of their own following. What would that make of Whumper, that they would cry at this? Weak. They can't give up their mission.

They wiped away their tears and stood. "If I let you out, you will let me tend to your wounds. One more slip-up from you today and-and... well let's hope it doesn't come to that." As Whumper pulled the door slowly open Whumpee fell to the floor. There were beads of sweat, tears, and blood running all over their cheeks. It was pitiful; it made Whumpee look like a-

Whumper sighed. "C'mon, kid, let's get you cleaned up."

Tag-list: @meandmy100blanketsagainstheworld @subval01 @bleeding-letters @whumpkinz @aswallowimprisoned @nicolepascaline

#writeblr #writing community #writing #my writing #whump #whumpee #whump prompt #whump writing #writers on tumblr #carewhumper #defiant whumpee #tw captivity #tw restraints #whumpblr #villain