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happyhappybios · 1 year

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Voghel Apodis

This page contains mention of cult, stalking, blood, death and use of drugs.

Danger scale: Dangerous

Key notes: Cultist, Obsessive, Religious, Creepy smile, Brainwashed

🙂Voghel’s mood🙂

Wanted poster / Interrogation / Smile tutorial

Name: Voghel Apodis

Age: 10.15 sweeps (22 y.o.)

Height: 5’3 (160 cm)

Blood colour: Jade

Wiggling day: 6 October

Symbol: Phoenix

Gender: Non-binary (They/Them)

Orientation: Bisexual

Occupation: Cultist, The True Dolorosa’s follower, Grub Caretaker (undercover)

Place of residence: Big abandoned hive on the outskirts of the city with all the members

Lusus: DadPhoenix (Big size; No longer lives with them)

Hobby: Recruiting new followers

Hemoloyalty: Despises mutants a lot

Fetch modus: Sacrifice. Sacrifice something in return for the item.

Strife specibus/Weapon: Sacrificial knife/Knife Kind

Troll Tag: consecratedCounsel [CC]

Typing quirk: Put •ᴗ• on both sides

Typing quirk example:

[CC]: •ᴗ• Save their imperfection souls from The Dolorosa’s wrath! •ᴗ•

God Tier: Seer of Hope

Ancestor: The Preacher

Dancestor: Indica Apodis

Personality:

If you ever run into Voghel, the only advice I'll give you is...

...RUN.

Run as fast as you can because Voghel won't spare your life if you are a mutant. Voghel is a manipulating, cruel and arrogant troll whose mission is to recruit as many jades as possible, opening their eyes about mutants or as Voghel likes to call them - 'imperfection(s)'.

Voghel is a dangerous troll to be around. You can spot the creepy vibes quickly if you look at them carefully - eyes and smile are the most noticeable thing in their appearance, but, unfortunately, Voghel isn't that naive and uses mask and contact lenses to disguise themself. Even if you see them with disguise acting calm, friendly and a little bit chatty, it doesn't mean they are genuine or enjoy the conversation. Voghel is calculated and patient (sometimes depending on the situation). They put a 'mask' on their face to pretend to be approachable, to lure you into thinking they are not bad before striking you. That's how Voghel is.

Voghel doesn't trust other trolls so easily for obvious reasons and in return they can betray anyone for being useless... except, probably, other cult members.

Voghel isn't shy to get into fights, taunting and threatening other trolls. They enjoy it pretty much.

Voghel is petty, super petty and won't forget anyone who crossed their path. They'll do anything to get rid of you, so be warned if you decide to mess with them...

It's hard to throw Voghel off, but not impossible. :)

Likes:

Dolorosa’s image

Their Cult Leader

Knives and axes

Their Cult Uniform

Recruiting new followers

Biscuits with cheese

Taunting trolls

Cats

Dislikes:

Mutants

Other cults

Clown Church

Carrots

Clear mind

Doing paperwork

Getting blood on their clothes

Disrespect towards the Leader

Trivia:

Voghel had their own symbol before. After they joined the cult, they burned/forgot it as it was part of the cult's rule.

Voghel has a decent collection of knives and axes that they stored in their second room. They got the second room after the owner of this room mysteriously disappeared...

Voghel can lift around 60-80 kg in one set.

Voghel can't dance nor they can't sing.

Voghel doesn't have any spare clothes nor outfits (expect that one time or that time or other time.)

Voghel is pretty good at throwing knives and axes. They wish to visit the hatchet house at least once.

Relationships:

Matesprit - Open!

Moirail - Open!

Kismesis - Open!

Auspistice - Open!

Out of quadrants

Acquaintance - Atelie. Voghel met Atelie in one of her Art Exhibitions where her actual art was displayed. Sometimes they bring her extra limbs which Voghel couldn't dispose of. Why? Ask her.

Acquaintance - Muarae. Voghel met Muarae in the hospital where he was practicing. Sometimes they bring him extra bodies which Voghel couldn't dispose of. Why? Ask him.

Enemy - Alioth-Serpen Family. Voghel despises this family. :)

Victim - Auruma. After the incident, Voghel stalked her to find a perfect chance to kill her, but her roommate intervened.

Backstory:

Before joining the cult, Voghel lived a pretty normal life in the Brooding Caverns as a rookie (8.31 sweeps; 18 y.o.) before becoming a Grub Caretaker. They liked their job and never compalated about it.

How suddenly...

...they heard gossip about the 'organization' from one of their coworkers. The 'organization' was recruiting jades from all caverns to reveal the truth of what actually happened with one Ancestor of 12 zodiac signs. At first, Voghel wasn't interested in it, thinking it was stupid, but the more they heard about the 'organization', the more they got interested in it.

Soon enough, Voghel asked a coworker, who told them about it, how to reach this 'organization' and they happily helped Voghel to write the request to join it. Voghel was a bit hesitant, but didn't run away. They want to know what actually happened.

It didn't take long for one of 'organization's members appear in front of Voghel and gave them a handkerchief full of green balls. Something was definitely wrong with it.

It was... pills, right?

But Voghel couldn't stop listening to a troll in front of them. Something about her was... so convincing and comforting. All their questions just disappeared in their head, like she answered all their questions, but at the same time not.

They took a drug.

After that they don't remember anything, at all. They woke up in the center of the room with an axe in their hands, blood was everywhere: hands, face, axe, clothes, walls, windows and floor...

...and on the floor was a body, dead body of a troll.

Voghel felt nothing,

Why should they?

...

Voghel joined the, organization, cult after proving themself. They were still a Grub Caretaker in their own caverns, but now it was mostly undercover to not bring too much attention to themselves. Later on, Voghel was promoted to a higher rank and started recruiting new followers to the cult.

Of course, Voghel's story didn't end here as it only started...

#Dangerous Trolls #Bio

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localcultivator · 4 years

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Could Have Been Me pt. 2

Marinette watched as the ground got farther and farther away as her plane took off. She was finally leaving. It had taken some effort from both her and Chloe to make this happen, but now that she was leaving Paris, she wasn’t sure what to feel.

Relief that she was leaving the environment that had caused so many negative emotions in her,

Nervousness at the thought of going to a new school, especially in a different country.

Anxiety over leaving the same city that had been her life for the past 16 years.

But most of all, she felt excitement. The thought that she was getting to start over with people who didn’t know her, and make new friends, and finally live her life.

She fiddled with a few commissions she had taken before leaving Paris on the plane ride, with naps spaced out to make jet lag a little easier on her. A dress for Penny, a new suit for Jagged and a few dress shirts for a businessman in Gotham. She was excited over the prospect of getting to do fittings in person, and had been communicating with them about when the best time to do said fittings would be. They had agreed on her coming over two days after her arrival, and Marinette was excited to work with Mr. Wayne. She had heard from Jagged that he was a big fan of her work, and made sure that it was okay that he pass along her details for a commission.

As she looked out the window, watching the ground rise up to meet them as they landed in Gotham, she thought to herself

“How beautiful.”

Damian was not having a good day. He was awoken by banging and slamming doors as Todd chased Grayson around the large house for stealing… something. Damian hadn’t bothered to learn what the two men were fighting over, only that it had woken him up, and for that they must die.

He corrected his thinking, knowing that Bruce wouldn’t be okay with Damian killing or even lightly maiming his two eldest sons. Damian had walked into the kitchen expecting to be able to make his morning tea without any problems, until he saw that Drake was slouched over the island, muttering something about equations and a possible problem. Drake had stood straight up after hearing Damian walk in, and had just smiled and said good morning before leaving with the largest cup of coffee that Damian had seen to date. Apparently Alfred hadn’t hidden all of his mugs.

The entire incident had caused Damian to be lost in thought for a good 10 minutes, trying to figure out if Drake had genuinely meant that or was planning something. Damian wasn’t quite sure yet. Those lost 10 minutes however meant that Damian could not savor his morning cup of tea, and instead had to take a bagel and ask Alfred to prepare his tea to go so that he could get dressed for school. He was able to get out the door and to his car without anyone asking him how his morning was going, which was a victory for him. He had been able to get a good enough park space, no one willing to risk the wrath of the Ice Prince of Gotham Academy if he had been forced to park too far from the door.

Then, his ridiculous classmates had been chattering all day about a new student. Damian made a mental note to look into their background as he refused to have some imbecile try to acquaint themselves with him. He had tried to pay attention to what his teacher was saying, but quickly determined that it was both unnecessary (he had already learned this in his own time) and impossible (his classmates were extremely loud with their whispering and gossiping). Damian allowed himself to work on a sketch of batcow instead, knowing that not even the teacher would dare to disturb him.

Sadly the distractions continued into the night, with his brothers discussing the student from France that would be staying with them for a time, while her guardians in America would be arranging somewhere for her to stay. All he heard throughout patrol was their questions and comments about this new person in their life, with no one seeming to care about the security breach that was this new person in their life.

Safe to say, when Damian was forced to go with his family to the airport to pick up said student, he was in a horrid mood and it seemed that nothing would be able to pull him from it. They watched as people disembarked from the plane, his brothers looking for someone in particular. Damian wasn’t paying much attention until he saw a shock of dark blue hair. He looked up from his phone and took in the image of the girl in front of him.

His first thought was “How Beautiful”

taglist //

@kawaiigiantjudgefish @i-wanna-be-a-ninja @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @iloveitwhen @sturchling @sassakitty

#marinette x damian #damian wayne #daminette #maridami #marinette dupain cheng #mlb x dc #fanfic

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jaeheewillalwaysbemyfav · 4 years

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Hi! I like your writing so I was wondering if you would like to write how the demons brothers in obey me would react to MC doing things like casually blowing a kiss at each of them? Thanks!

Aaaa thank you so much! This sounds adorable!

Obey Me: The Brothers Reacting to MC Blowing Them a Kiss

Lucifer

Ohhh what a dangerous game this is... It depends entirely on where MC did this. If they’re in the House of Lamentation or somewhere private, Lucifer would blush and smile softly. It’s such a cute and intimate thing... Honestly, blowing him a kiss while he’s working is probably the best way to get him to take a quick break. He’ll either go over to you or beckon you closer and give you a quick peck. Air kisses are adorable, but he much prefers the real thing~

If you’re in public though, he won’t be as obvious. He’ll still blush, but he’ll try and compose himself as fast as possible, pretend he didn’t see anything. At something like one of Diavolo’s parties he might indulge you a bit, hold you closer and whisper that you shouldn’t tease him like that, it almost makes it seem like you’re asking to be punished~

But at like, RAD? Blinders on, he’s in Responsible Mode. If you’re hurt by him being so cold to an innocent display of affection like that, you’ll have to bring it up with him - it’s not any problem with you that causes this behaviour, Lucifer is just very concerned with his image and him cooing over someone doesn’t pair well with his intimidating persona as Lord Diavolo’s Right Hand Man.

Mammon

One. Hit. Kill. It’s the fastest way to turn Mammon into a squawking, blushing mess. He’ll stutter out a bunch of vaguely indignant protests, but make no mistake - you have pierced his heart. He’ll be beet red and grumbly about it for a while, but if anyone asks, he’ll say OF COURSE his human blew him a kiss! He’s The Great Mammon! Who wouldn’t blow him kisses?!

Catch him in private during a more confident mood and he’ll grin widely and aggressively mime catching it (maybe falling or knocking something over in the process). He might even return it, if he’s really sure no one’s watching. After you swore on your grave to not tell a soul, of course.

Leviathan

Also is absolutely rekt by such a gesture. He kind of short-circuits: it’s such a normie thing to do, but it’s also so cute, but what if MC is just mocking him? It’s not fair, why can’t he just have nice things - then MC repeats the gesture and he’s physically knocked backwards.

Mutters something about normie tactics or complains that you distracted him from his game (another one who can be pulled from their passions like this in an instant), but it’s hard to take him seriously when he’s avoiding MC’s gaze and blushing so much.

If MC ever stops blowing him kisses though, he’ll be devastated and ask why, in his roundabout tsundere way. It’s not like he cares or anything, but... if they wanted to, he supposes it’s okay if they do it again... they will do it again, right?

Satan

It’s basically canon that Satan is a huge romantic (he’s the only one to actually ask the MC out on dates ffs), so he’d find this absolutely adorable. In public, he’d just smile and either call MC over or discreetly make a move to catch the kiss, but in private he’d be full-on goofy about it, blowing one back himself. It’s one of the few times he’ll genuinely smile in public.

It’ll cheer him up if he’s in a bad mood too. In that case, his smile is smaller, but the tension eases from his body just a little bit. Even for the Avatar of Wrath, it’s hard to hold onto anger when someone sends you affection in such a way.

Asmodeus

Loves it! He’ll deftly catch it and send one back, anytime, anywhere! Asmo is super flirty and obviously about physical pleasure, he’s the Avatar of Lust after all, but he also strikes me as a romantic at heart, so it’s the little things like this that really get to him. This guy’s used to flings, one night stands, fleeting, temporary relationships. A gesture like blowing a kiss just melts him because it’s plain and simply a way of communicating fondness!

He may deny it all he likes, but he’s actually quite desperate for love and attention like that, so it really warms his heart more than any passionate night could.

Beelzebub

So very, very soft for it. May be surprised the first time it happens and choke on his food a little, but after that he finds it really cute. It’s your way of showing affection, and he’s happy that you’re happy! Very awkward about returning it though; he won’t do it every time, but when he does it’s super hesitant, like he’s scared he’s doing it wrong somehow.

Will absolutely light up if you respond well and catch it though, and will start doing the same to your air kisses. Just don’t do it while he’s lifting weights, he may very well drop them.

Belphegor

A little shit, as always, exactly how Belphie responds will depend entirely on his mood. If he’s particularly tired at that moment, he honestly might not fully register it, or just raise an eyebrow. If he’s feeling mischievous he’ll do that thing where he fakes catching it and throwing it away like that video of the guy throwing an air kiss into a blender. If he’s feeling softer or more flirty though? You’ll get one back.

And no one will believe you if you tell them.

He’s a bit of a bastard about it, but don’t let his weird responses fool you - he does like it.

#obey me!#obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me:swd #obey me headcanon #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #mine #headcanon #my writing

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pinkja · 3 years

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We Are We: The Wrath of a Protector

The Frye Twins are a weird pair, in tuned to each other’s feelings in a way that no one has seen before. Therefore, when you cross with one twin, you cross them both.

Tw for violence. Younger Frye Twins again.

—

It is not often that the Frye Twins would go somewhere without the other. Usually one would stay behind, waiting for the other’s training to end, or for the other to finish a book, or chore, or assignment. Then, after everything was settled, they would go off to do whatever it was that they did, always returning as a pair.

It is something that people thought they would stop doing once they got older, once they grew into themselves and gained different interests and ran in different social circles. They were proven wrong, even at the age of ten, an age where they were old enough for their closeness to not be considered as cute as it was before, but as a thing to raise an eyebrow at. No one dared comment on it, lest they face the wrath of their father, Ethan Frye, who became strangely overprotective of his children, more than any other parent of his time.

People chalked it up to him only being a true father for four years, and had no idea of the true nature of the twins, never bore witness to the air of strangeness that the twins have, how that strangeness could affect other people.

Hand-in-hand The Twins walk, Evie’s gloved hand in Jacob’s. They‘re at the market, finally old enough to be trusted with money, and far along in their training to be able to defend themselves if need be. The early summer air has made them sweat a little, Evie’s shawl and gloves and Jacob’s coat and boots a bit much for the weather. The two had bought some fruit from an old lady that reminded them of their Grandmother, a woman whose appearance had burned themselves in Their memories, never to be forgotten.

They still have some money left, enough to buy one thing for the both of them. One look at each other and The Twins came to an agreement to keep it, and walk around town a bit longer.

Jacob, her Twin, is humming a tune beside her, one Evie remembers them listening to some Time before. Soon she joins him, joy filling her heart, and therefore his, at a memory almost lost to Time.

Their good mood is dampened a bit as they are stopped in the street. It’s a man, his clothes tattered and his hair disheveled. He smiles down at the twins, a smile that almost reaches his eyes, a smile that is so familiar. His skin’s a bit tanned from the sun, and dirty as well.

Jacob pushes Evie, his Twin, behind him a bit, always the protective one. His shoulders tense up and his eyebrows furrow as he frowns. Evie places a hand on the small of his back, but never moves her eyes away from the stranger.

“Hello, children,” the stranger starts, and Jacob can feel Evie become disgusted at the sound of his voice, and so Jacob is as well. “I’m terribly sorry to bother you two, but I’m a bit down on my luck and was wondering if you had any change to spare.” He was not a beggar, that much The Twins could tell, despite the lie. Whatever that man, this reminder, needs the money for, they would not help him get it.

Jacob speaks for them both. “I apologize sir, but we do not have any money on us.” Jacob, and therefore Evie, could not sense a weapon, but he, and therefore she, could smell the slight stench of alcohol, a few days old, but there none the less. No, They would not help him. “Excuse us.” He says curtly, grabbing Evie’s hand in his and walking around the stranger, pulling Evie in front of him, away from the watchful eyes of the man. Only when they turn a couple of streets and pass a few dozen people, did the tension leave his shoulders, and Evie let out a breath. Jacob gives her hand a squeeze, going back to hum that tune from a Time ago. Evie soon joins along, singing a few words under her breath, just for the Two to hear, in a speech long gone, a sound foreign and forgotten.

Joy fills their hearts again, run-in with the stranger long forgotten as they walk through an abandoned warehouse. Dust settles on every surface, and sunlight barely makes it way through, but it is quiet, undisturbed, and that is enough for The Twins.

In a corner The Twins sit, Evie to the left and Jacob to the right. Out of his inside coat pocket, Jacob pulls a small brown leather-bound book, placing it in his Twin’s hand. She grabs it and lets her Twin rest his head on her lap, hand running through his hair as she opens the book with the other. Together they eat the fruit they acquired earlier, stored safely in Evie’s pouch.

She reads to her brother, tells him of tales from long ago, of memories almost lost to Time had they not been written down so quickly. Her recount fills the Twins with nostalgia and melancholy, for Time lost and revisited and remembered so rarely.

They stay in that bubble for a while, until Jacob sits up, rubbing his right eye with a yawn.

“Loo.” He simply says before standing up and walking out to the back of the warehouse to relieve himself. Evie waits patiently, putting her pouch away, standing up and stretching before humming that tune that was not complete without her Twin there to sing along with her.

Evie pauses, blinks once, twice, before turning to the entrance of the warehouse. There stands the stranger, the same stranger who made the grand achievement of making the Twins tense up, who made the Twins take a silent breath and move even quieter, actions that the Twins have not genuinely done in many Times. He stares at Evie, who straightened herself out and stared at him right back. She would not look weak, not in front of a stranger, an old Reminder.

“I am terribly sorry to bother you, miss,” he starts again, taking a few steps towards her. Evie doesn’t move, doesn’t want to show fear. She blinks instead, never breaking eye contact for long. He continues, “but I was just wondering if I could–” he pauses, stopping his approach. He clasps his hand in front of him before giving her a warm smile; a smile that makes her skin crawl as she is reminded of Memories long passed. “–ask you to spare a few coins.”

Evie doesn’t answer him.

He continues.

“I noticed that your male companion didn’t give you a chance to speak earlier, so I thought you would be able to offer me something that he can’t…”

Evie still doesn’t answer, only watches as the stranger takes a few more steps.

“Is he your betrothed? A family member?” The stranger asks, now only a couple of feet away from Evie.

The man frowns at Evie’s lack of response before getting down on one knee, making them eye-to-eye.

“Listen, little one,” Evie goes numb at the name, mind unconsciously going far to reach for the comfort of her Twin, “I’m sorry if I have come off a little… aggressive. Can we try again?” He reaches his hand out. For Evie to shake, she assumes. But Evie does not take it, does not want to feel that familiar skin of the Reminder on hers once more. Not in this Time or any Time ever again.

Slowly, the Reminder’s facade slips the more Evie stays silent. His smile fades, his eyebrows furrow, and through the cracks, Evie can see the growing malice, the mirror image of a man from another Time. It makes Evie nervous, makes her remember something They had longed to forget.

In a blink of an eye, the Reminder hits her. Hits her because she was too caught up in fear to react, too caught up in Memories to act on instinct. She stumbles, clutching her cheek as rough hands grab her forearms in an all too familiar gesture.

Evie’s ears ring, the feeling of his skin on hers something that she had not felt in years. It makes her tense, mind crying out for a Twin, her Twin, her protector.

He comes before she could finish calling for Him, the loud cry of His Bird piercing through the ringing of her ears before she saw Him.

The room becomes dark, so dark, so quickly that she feels the Reminder startle at the complete loss of one of his senses.

He doesn’t find light again, not until he is ripped away from Evie and meets the blinding light of her Twin’s eyes, burning and full of rage.

Because of the ringing in her ears, Evie doesn’t hear it at first, the chilling screams of the Reminder, the blood rumbling, splattering on the floor, the angry cry of His Bird as her Twin rips and tears him apart, destroys him, bloodies him in a blind rage caused by hurt.

The Reminder is alive through all of it, each limb shattered, each piece of skin burned and bruised and pulled apart, each part of his body disintegrated.

They would not give him the satisfaction of dying.

It is Evie, a Twin, His Twin, who stops Him. It is Evie who calls out His name, His true name, in a language long gone, long forgotten. It is Evie who grabs Him, and pulls Him off of the Reminder, making Him face her and look her in those bright, blinding eyes. It is Evie who places His hand, His bloodied, soiled hand over her heart, connects their foreheads, and speaks to Him in a manner that she has not spoken in a long time, giving Him three pathways to feel what she feels, to make them Them again, to place Them back together.

“It is fine,” She whispers, now She instead of she, voice beyond her years, beyond many Times, “We are fine. We are still We, and We are still breathing, Our Heart is still beating. We are We.” She doesn’t look away, keeps unwavering eye contact in the pitch black darkness and listens to His harsh breathing, His slow expulsion of rage.

“We are We.” He repeats, feeling Their heartbeat through Her chest.

She, and therefore He, is scared. He, and therefore She, is angry, but They are They, and They are One.

Through her coaxing, the light slowly comes back, revealing the utter destruction that occurred in those long moments. The blood splattered on every surface, covering Jacob from head to toe, the bits and pieces left of the Reminder that serves as sustinace for his Bird, who gathers the broken man into its beak before flying, circling around Evie for good measure. Some of his blood stained her dress and shoes, collateral damage, They say, a small price to pay.

“Jacob.” Evie, now a she, says his, no longer a He, given name, reminding him Where he is, what his purpose is right now.

The Twins can feel the soul of the Reminder, still bound to this place of carnage, still screaming in agony.

“Let him rot here.” He says, free hand going to the cheek that the Reminder dared to touch. There is no mark there, not anymore, never was to the unassuming eye.

“We cannot, you know that as well as I.” Little Evie, always the voice of reason.

“He needs to suffer.” Evie wipes the tear that falls from his eye, smearing blood on her thumb.

“He has, and he will, but We cannot leave it like this, please.” Evie begs, eyes still shining in the dull light.

With a reluctant nod and a cry from Colin up above, the place is seen how it was before, dust floating in the air and not a single drop of blood in sight. The Twins are also in their prime state, free of the Reminder’s blood, free of the evidence of blind rage. The only thing that would indicate something occurring in that abandoned warehouse are their clothes, the rich red color of Jacob’s coat and Evie’s dress a stark difference from the colors worn when they had left their home. It drew attention, and if anyone could remember what they had looked like before, they would’ve raised an eyebrow, or asked a few questions in hushed voices.

Jacob embraces Evie with all he has, and she does the same.

“We are We.” He says, voice cracking in a way that only Evie has ever heard before.

“We are We, my protector.” Evie repeats, rubbing his hair with her gloved hand. Too soon do they pull apart, but they remain hand-in-hand. “Come, let’s go to the field. We will cleanse and let Colin roam around for a while, ok?” At the sound of its name, Colin cries again, giving a few large flaps of its wings.

Jacob nods, and lets Evie, his Twin, lead him out the warehouse and away from the Reminder, away from the rage. His Bird follows, and They are safe.

They are One.

#assassin’s creed #assassin's creed #evie frye #ac syndicate #Jacob Frye #assassin's creed syndicate #violence Tw #vague descriptions of violence #more eldritch Frye Twins #ac fanfic #ac fanfiction #assassinscreedsyndicate #syndicate #angst #just a little

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sambergscott · 4 years

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your son is going to love you

Summary: Peralta dads are cursed, destined to have terrible relationships with their sons. When Jake finds out *he's* going to have a son, he spirals. Amy helps.

goes without saying that if you haven’t watched 7x10 yet maybe don’t read this

She wakes up at 2am needing to pee.

She’s been waking up needing to pee a lot lately.

It’s like their baby has no respect for her sleeping pattern, perfectly honed over the years to maximise productivity, while still fitting in the full 8 hours of sleep needed a day. Their baby doesn’t care about the 8 hour recommendation, he laughs in the face of scientists. With the bad back and heart burn and constant kick, kick, kicking of her bladder, she’s averaging 4.7. She thought babies didn’t start keeping you up all night until they were born but, oh, how wrong she was.

She pats her husband to wake him up and come keep her company. If she’s awake because of their baby, then damn it, he’s going to be awake, too. But he’s not there, leaving her hand awkwardly patting a bare mattress.

“Jake?” She murmurs groggily, sitting up and switching on her bedside lamp. She’s half-expecting him to be sitting in the armchair playing Mario Party on his Switch (he has become a little bit addicted in the last few months and it wouldn’t be the first time she’s found him trying to beat Wario in the early hours of the morning) or have left a note beside her bed that he had a lead on a case and needed to go in with a scribbled ‘love you’ underneath and a lopsided heart. The armchair is empty, but there’s a light on down the hall and since there’s no way she forgot to turn it off before bed (she triple checks), she figures that it must be Jake.

Forgetting the whole reason why she woke up in the first place, she grabs Jake’s hoodie from the floor for warmth and pads into their living-kitchen-dining area. It’s the open plan-ness that made her fall in love with the apartment upon first visit and submit all her paperwork as soon as she was out the door. It’s the open plan-ness that would make the Property Brothers proud and the dumb people who go on that show foam at the mouth with jealousy. It’s the open plan-ness that allows her to see her husband straight away, snacking on the unfinished party food.

(Apparently people don’t feel like eating after a man cuts his thumb off and spurts blood everywhere. Who’d have thought?)

There’s a weird, pensive look on his face that draws her towards him.

“You OK, babe?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” he responds. He pops a tomato from the salad bowl in his mouth, then another, then another.

She narrows her eyes. He never eats tomatoes unless they’re in ketchup or on top of a famous Sal’s pizza. Something is wrong.

She thinks back on their day, mentally rewinding the events from waking up to the morning briefing to their private sex reveal in the break room and finding out they’re having a boy (the empty cake box and blue frosting around Scully’s mouth was very surprising indeed). They were both floating on Cloud 9 all afternoon, came home and Zoomed the entire family, falling asleep on the couch around 9.30pm because pregnancy is exhausting.

Nothing particularly awful stands out.

Unless...

“Are you thinking about your Grandpa?”

He’d been so excited to see him again, so excited to reunite Walter Peralta with Roger, The Admiral with the Captain. To be honest, Amy was less than impressed. He’d been nice enough to her, asked her about her job, about the baby, small talked about the weather. But he never asked her about Jake, probed about the 20 odd years of his grandson’s life that he’d missed out on. Which is frustrating because she has a lot of embarrassing stories ready to tell and a whole photo album of Jake on her phone. He couldn’t care less about Roger or Jake, storming out of the sex reveal party after calling his son a screw up and turning off his phone so they couldn’t get in contact with him. He’s a selfish dick and her husband deserves better. Still, he won’t be thinking about what a monster Walter turned out to be, he’ll be finding ways to blame himself that yet another father walked out of his life again.

He nods silently and she leads him to the couch.

“Talk to me, Jake.”

He releases a shaky breath. “The Peralta’s are cursed.”

“With devastatingly handsome good looks?” She half-jokes, trying to lighten the mood. Because, hello, her husband is hot; she constantly overhears other women in the precinct talking about his glow up and it would be impossible to ignore the female attention he gets in bars and even just walking down the street before he scratches his face to show off his wedding band and wraps one arm proudly around his wife’s shoulders. She’s seen the pictures of a young Roger Peralta, too, and with that charm smile... she gets it.

“Thank you,” he smiles briefly, “but no. Peralta dads are cursed with terrible relationships with their sons.”

“That’s not going to be you,” she says without hesitation, without a shred of doubt.

“How do you know?” He launches into a scathing personal indictment that leaves his cheeks stinging with tears. “I’m immature, obsessed with my work, messy, always late. My dad was never around when I was a kid. I don’t even know what dads do with their sons! And what if it’s in my genes? To be a crappy dad, abandon my kid like a dozen Peralta fathers before me. Your parents still don’t think I’m good enough. You didn’t even like me at first. It only makes sense that our baby would hate me, too.”

“Woah, babe. Slow down. Let’s unpack that one at a time.” She wipes away his tears with his hoodie sleeve and squeezes his hand. “First of all, you are way more mature now than you used to be. We bought a family friendly Sedan. You read parenting books. You were eating fruit, like, two minutes ago.”

“Tomatoes are fruits?”

“What? Yes, how do you not - not the point.” She shakes her head. “And so what, you enjoy your job. That’s a good thing, Jake! Do you understand how rare that is? You’re doing the thing you love while providing a decent income for our family. And besides, I’m way more obsessed than you. I have FOMOW, but that doesn’t mean I won’t love our kid more than anything. And as for the messy, late thing, if I can look past it because of how much I love you, so will our son.”

“Love you, too,” he mumbles.

“Now onto your point about not knowing what dads do, that is a straight up lie and we both know it, Peralta. You’re always hanging out with Charles and Nikolaj and Lord Knows Terry doesn’t shut up about all the activities he does with his girls.”

“I know what they do when I’m around, but what do you do when it’s 5am and they won’t go back to sleep?” He frets. “At what age do you introduce them to Die Hard? In Cry Hard With A Vengeance,” he quotes the parenting book she originally bought him as a joke but has kind of become his Torah, “Bruce Willis says right away, but what if he’s not ready to understand the complex plots? What if he prefers Timothy Olyphant to William Atherton? Oh my God, what if our son doesn’t think Die Hard is a Christmas movie?”

He’s spiralling and it’s a good job he’s with the only person who can truly calm him down.

“I think Bruce Willis is just trying to promote his franchise and that we’ll be watching more Paw Patrol than Die Hard for the next few years, babe, but I’m sure when he is old enough, he will love the movies as much as you.”

“Right,” he agrees, “you’re totally right. Action thrillers aren’t very baby friendly. I’ll just watch it on mute with subtitles.”

She laughs, her eyes crinkling in the corners. She loves him so much. Which segways them nicely onto his final two points.

“My parents do love you. Sure, they’re critical, but that’s just the way they are. They’re the same way to all of us. My mom complains to everyone she meets about how I can’t cook, how Tony hasn’t settled down and made her any beautiful grandbabies yet, even Perfect David faces her wrath when he goes a week without phoning her. If the worst thing my mom has to say about you is that you’re below average in height, you’re doing OK. And as for me apparently not liking you at first, I did like you.”

He furrows his brow. “But you said you found me annoying and difficult to be around.”

“Yet I didn’t ask to switch desks, continued working cases with you and went to Shaw’s whenever I was invited.” She stares at him pointedly. “If I really found you difficult to be around, I wouldn’t have stayed. I thought you were cute and funny and good at your job and yeah, you were annoying too, but,” she shrugs, “it never put me off.”

“So what you’re saying is that you had a crush on me first,” he grins.

“No. You obviously had a crush on me back then, too. What I’m saying is that I love you, our son loves you and you’re going to be a great dad.”

He blushes, ducking his head. “My dad said the same thing. About our son loving me.”

“He’s right,” she replies. “I feel him kick every time you get home from work, every time you sing to Taylor Swift in the car, every time I mention your name. Why didn’t you believe him?”

“I don’t know, still nervous about the curse, I guess.” He twists his wedding band on his finger.

Amy bites her lip. “Are you not excited about us having a boy?”

She has to ask. His excitement looked genuine in the break room, but it’s no secret that he was hoping for a girl. A mini-Amy, he said. While she’s always been more accustomed to boys considering the Santiago’s have, like, a million of them, Jake couldn’t get over the image of a little girl in dresses and doing ballet and with long, dark hair that he eventually learns to braid.

“Of course I am,” he’s quick to assure her. “Stupid excited. Never been more excited for anything. Not even the Ninja Turtles reboot. But still... nervous.” He rubs his hand over his face, muffling his voice. “Everyone is assuming what kind of dad I’m going to be. Whether I’m going to be good at it or not. To be fair, the only person who doubted me is that murderer I arrested last week, obviously not my biggest fan. Everyone else is convinced I can do it. What if I can’t? What if I’m genetically wired to be a bad dad? What if I disappoint you and our baby and Charles who has been dreaming about this forever?”

“Jake,” she softens her voice, pulling his hand away from his face, “the fact you are so worried about being a bad dad proves that you will not be one. Nor could you ever disappoint us.”

“But you’re my wife. You have to say that.”

“I would never have married you and become your wife if I thought you were the kind of person who could abandon your kid,” she promises him. “You have been perfect so far, dealing with all the vitamins and over-scheduled sex and washing my clothes when I sweat through them and holding my hair back when I’m being sick. You’ve been to every doctor’s appointment, read every binder, bought me every weird food craving. You hang out with the bump every night, talking and singing to it. I know you’re going to be a great dad, Jake, because you already are one.”

She kisses him and it’s soft and tender and filled with love, only interrupted by the kick, kick, kicking of their son.

“Hey,” Jake says in his best authoritative dad voice/John McClane dealing with German terrorists voice (he’s been practising in front of the mirror following Bruce’s advice), pointing a warning finger at the bump. “I’m going to kiss your mom as much as I want, Peralta. I loved her first.”

Amy giggles, stroking her fingers through Jake’s unruly curls. His bedhead is always wild and it’s maybe her favourite thing in the entire world. She silently sends a message of her own to their son to inherit his dad’s hair. And eyes. And handsome smile.

He kicks again as if to say ‘OK, mom’.

And then she really needs to pee.

#b99 fic #jake x amy #my writing #let me know what you think!!!!#love love LOVED writing it

192 notes · View notes

i-stan-nct-and-satan · 4 years

Text

Not Broken (Jaehyun Mafia AU pt 9)

Not Broken Masterlist

Jaehyun X Reader

"You don't believe her, do you, boss?" Doyoung asked as soon as the door to the basement was closed.

Jaehyun ignored his underling's inquiry as he walked through the kitchen and into the dining room.

Taeyong was sitting at the table. He had been waiting for them, or more like on standby in case anything happened.

"Call everyone down," Jaehyun ordered his second in command.

"We're having another meeting."

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After the meeting had been called and everyone was gathered around the dining room table, Jaehyun motioned for Yuta to go over what had happened during the interrogation.

Yuta explained the events in chronological order, making sure not to leave out any details except for those regarding his boss's small outburst. He quoted Y/N's answers almost word for word.

Everybody at the table listened intently to Yuta, not wanting to miss anything.

When Yuta came close to telling his colleagues about the bizarre claim their prisoner made, he looked to his boss as if he were unsure if it was okay to tell them. Jaehyun merely nodded, giving him the go ahead to continue on with his retelling of the previous events.

"She was freaking out and suddenly she claimed that she killed Lucas," Yuta announced.

Everyone in the room except Jaehyun, Doyoung, and Winwin gasped. Many of them started asking questions. For a brief few seconds, everything seemed chaotic. The men kept talking over each other, directing their questions towards their boss, towards each other or even towards themselves. Anyone who would have entered the room at that moment would have surely felt the need to back away from the disorder.

"Shut up!" Jaehyun bellowed, causing all of his men to go silent.

Jaehyun looked back towards Yuta.

"Is there anything else you would like to add?"

Yuta nodded before continuing.

"I know that it seems like she was just saying that as a last-ditch effort to throw us off, but it felt different from that. It was like she was confessing it, not arguing it. She kept saying that she was sorry. Doyoung and I have done hundreds of interrogations over the years and it isn't uncommon for hostages to admit their actions when they know they're about to die."

"It's like a soldier's last confession," Doyoung added.

"Exactly. Not only that, but she seemed genuinely confused whenever we mentioned anything directly involving IU. It was like she thought we were interrogating her for something else entirely," Yuta finished.

Everyone at the table looked towards Jaehyun. His silent facade was as unreadable as ever.

Taeyong was the only one brave enough to speak after having previously been told to shut up only a few moments ago.

"What are your thoughts, boss?"

Jaehyun glanced at the red-haired. He seemed caught off guard by the question, but not because of its content. It was like Jaehyun had forgotten that there were other people in the room with him.

"We need more information before we can discuss the possibility that anything she's claiming is true. I haven't been able to come up with any ways that our interrogations methods up to this point could have guaranteed that she knew what we were interrogating her for. Of course, this is a normal interrogation tactic that allows the interrogators to trick the person into giving out details they might not have thought were important, but I'm not sure what to think," he spoke as though he were organizing his own thoughts.

"What are your orders, sir?" Johnny asked, having gained the confidence to speak since Taeyong wasn't scowled for his own vocalizations.

"Since Y/N is unlikely to feel comfortable around either one of us three, I want you and Winwin to get more information out of her,"

"Me and Winwin?" Johnny questioned.

"Not to disrespect your orders, sir, but Winwin and I have no experience with interrogations."

"You won't be interrogating her. You'll be talking to her," Jaehyun explained.

Winwin remained unfazed, but Johnny's face continued to contort further and further into one of confusion.

"Since Winwin was the one to patch her up, I assume that she has some feeling of comfort associated with him."

"She'd be the only one," Mark scoffed under his breath, only to be harshly punched in each arm by both Yuta and Taeil.

"And you seem to get along with women for whatever reason, so I figure that you two are the most well suited for this assignment," the mafia boss concluded.

"I get along with women too. Shouldn't I join too?" Mark interjected, earning yet another punch from Yuta.

"Shut up," Yuta hissed at him.

"What do you want us to find out?" Winwin inquired, finally acknowledging his boss's orders.

"I want you to find out as much as you can about what happened between her and Lucas and I want you to record it so that we can find out if her story has any inconsistent. Do whatever you have to do to make her comfortable. As for the rest of you, I want you all to stay close. Don't expect this to be the last meeting we have today."

"Yes, sir."

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After Johnny and Winwin had left the room to get supplies for their mission and the others had wandered off, only Jaehyun and Taeyong remained seated at the table.

"Did we fuck up?" Taeyong asked.

"I don't know what you're implying, but I don't care about such an insignificant casualty."

"Jae, we usually don't involve civilians."

"She isn't a civilian. She's a part of this now."

"But even if she wasn't a part of IU's death, how is she supposed to go back to her life after this? We weren't exactly subtle about taking her."

"That isn't my concern. My concern, and what your concern should be, is killing each and every one of those bastards involved in the death of my sister, no matter what they have between their legs."

"Jae," Taeyong started.

"What?!" Jaehyun slammed his fist the table.

"Fucking what, Tae?!"

Taeyong kept his gaze on Jaehyun, not letting himself become intimidated by his friend.

"I know that this is what we do, and that we need to carry out our retaliation in order to uphold our gang's image, but that's not going to bring your sister back and you know that."

Before his boss could retort, Taeyong kept going.

"You're hoping she was involved, aren't you?"

Taeyong uttered the question more like a comment than a genuine inquiry

"What?"

"You want Y/N to be involved in IU's death, don't you?"

"Of course not. I wouldn't have ordered Johnny and Winwin to talk to her if I did," Jaehyun defended.

"You're not letting your feelings get in the way of handling the situation professionally and that's good, but-"

"But, what?" Jaehyun barked.

"I'm worried that you want her to be involved so that you can misdirect your anger on one of Lucas' henchman instead of the actual person behind it. Remember, Lucas is the enemy... that is... if he's alive."

Taeyong noticed as Jaehyun's fists began to tighten.

"I'm just trying to figure out when you started looking for the bad in people instead of the good. That's what used to separate you and IU from your father."

"And look where that got her."

"But look at where it got you, Jae. NCT 127 has grown so much since you've taken over. We've become stronger and it's because of you. Remember when your father told you that Mark would never amount to anything? Yet as soon as he died, you sent Mark over to train with the Dreamies and now you’re training him to eventually take over as the Dreamies' leader."

"He's still a blubbering buffoon," the pink-haired man countered.

"But he's grown so much from when he first joined NCT. You were the only one who saw his potential. Even I thought you were crazy to put any effort into taking him on as a member of NCT 127."

Jaehyun sighed, his anger morphing into exhaustion.

"I'm also concerned about if it would be better or worse if Lucas were alive," Taeyong mumbled under his breath.

Achoo!

Taeyong and Jaehyun looked at each other. Neither one of them had sneezed.

They turned towards the source of the noise, the curtains.

"I really need to start checking behind curtains before meetings," Jaehyun cursed at hmself.

"Jisung, Chenle, come out. Now," Jaehyun demanded.

The two boys sheepishly came out from behind the curtains.

"I'm not going to waste anymore of my breath disciplining you two today, now where is Jaemin?"

"He's a little tied up right now," Chenle answered pressing index his fingers together.

Jaehyun let out a deep sigh. He was not in the mood to deal with his kid brothers, not right now.

"You better not mean that literally," he warned the two.

"Uh... umm," the boys stuttered.

Now, it was Taeyong's turn to sigh.

"I'll take them to go find and possibly untie Jaemin," Taeyong offered.

"Thank you," Jaehyun replied as he waved for them to leave already.

Once they were out of sight, Jaehyun collapsed into his chair.

He had also wondered if it would be better for Lucas to be dead or not. On one hand, the man who murdered his sister would be gone, but on the other hand, if his murder wasn't caused by Nct 127, then it would reflect poorly on the gang itself, yet that wasn't what concerned Jaehyun.

I can't believe that I am actually hoping that Lucas is still alive. Jaehyun thought to himself.

But I just can't stand the idea that the man responsible for Ji-eun's death, won't die by my own hands, that I won't be able to watch him as the life slowly and painfully leaves his body.

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The tears had stopped, or more like ran out. After an hour of sobbing, I had finally burnt through the little energy that I had left. I couldn't even muster up the energy to think about how I was still alive after having come so close to my demise. Wondering about the meaning behind Jaehyun's sudden exit would only lead to a spark of hope that would surely end up in a greater despair than I was already in. I had come to terms with the fact that I wouldn't survive Jaehyun's wrath, whether it would come today or tomorrow. Considering any possibility that I still had a chance was only being cruel to myself. All that was left to do was to stare at the walls and wait for everything to finally end.

This is where my mind was at. I had given up completely, so when I heard the door to the basement open, I couldn't put in the effort to look towards its source, to see who was surely here to put a bullet in my head.

"Hey there, sweetheart."

I recognized the voice. It was Johnny’s.

Sweetheart? What does he think he's trying to do? Comfort me? If he was sent down here to finish me off, then why couldn't he just get it over with?

My eyes didn't waver from where they were currently fixed on the wall.

"We brought you something," Johnny continued.

Finding myself intrigued by the mention of "we,"I turned my head to face the two men. Winwin was coming towards me, Johnny walking beside him.

The two men were carrying bundles of blankets along with a variety of other items that I couldn't make out due to my swollen eyes.

Oh God. They're going to wrap the blankets over my dead body.

"How are you holding up?" Winwin asked.

Despite my preference of Winwin over the others, I still recognized that Winwin was a part of NCT, the group that had put me into this sorry state in the first place, so I stayed silent.

"Sorry. That was stupid question, wasn't it?" Winwin commented.

He turned to Johnny and grabbed something from him. It was a water bottle like the one that Yuta had earlier.

Winwin brought the bottle to my lips and tilted it slowly, allowing me to take sips at my own pace.

"That's it. ***** and slowly. Good." Winwin encouraged, his thick accent never failing to confuse me.

Despite my exhausted state of mind, I could tell that they weren't planning on killing me. I mean, why would they put in the effort to make sure that I was a well hydrated corpse? Yet for some reason, I wondered if the delayment of my death was something to be relieved about or if I just wanted to get it over with.

"Okay so here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna get you out of these chains and into some new clothes. Then we are ******. Understand?"

I simply glanced at Johnny, who quickly got the hint that I needed some translation.

"We're going to unbind you, give you new clothes, check your vitals, treat your wounds, and ask a few more questions, okay?"

I nodded slowly. I didn't know what any of this meant, but my mind was too far gone to fully dissect the meaning of their words.

Is there actually a chance that I’ll get out of here alive?

I kept still as Johnny and Winwin proceeded to free me from my binds. When they finished, I remained seated, not wanting to anger either of them by moving without their direct instruction.

They stared at me for a brief second before Winwin asked if I needed help getting up.

I slowly made an attempt to stand up only to wobble briefly before stumbling into Johnny's arms.

Normally, I imagine that I would had started blushing madly from the hold that Johnny had on me, but I was unable to care about how close our faces were. I was too dizzy to feel flustered. Black dots filling my vision.

He slowly lowered me onto the ground, the black dots finally starting to clear from my sight, but I was still in too much of an exhaustive state to take notice of what was going on.

Winwin mouthed words to me, but I was unable to decipher them.

After realizing that I was not going to answer, Winwin started to undress me.

I couldn't fight back, not that it mattered. It wasn't like I thought he was trying to take advantage of me.

Once I was dressed in a pair of velvety soft pajama pants and a new oversized sweater, this one neon green, Winwin returned the water bottle to my mouth.

"You must need the restroom," Winwin commented.

I hadn't noticed since my mind was preoccupied with so much these last 36 hours, but my bladder felt like it was about to burst despite my extremely limited water intake.

"There’s a bathroom in the corner, but I don't think that you'll be able to manage going on your own."

Winwin could see the panic in my eyes.

"Would you like me or Johnny to help you?"

Remembering that Both of the men had already seen me close to naked, I quickly gave in.

I managed to muster out the words, "You, please,"

Winwin's expression remained unchanged as he hoisted me up to my feet, supporting me while we walked towards the small powder room.

Winwin helped me to sit on the toilet, before immediately turning to look away. It felt like an eternity had passed before I finished. Winwin helped me up. Leaning on him for stability, I washed my hands. After drying them on a nearby washcloth, Winwin guided me back towards Johnny.

Winwin pulled out his first aid kit and started tending to my wounds from the previous day along with whatever new ones he found. Johnny simply watched as Winwin checked my vitals. Neither of them said more than a few words at a time. Most of their chatter consisted of Winwin explaining what he was doing and reporting my vitals to Johnny.

Once Winwin started packing up his first aid kit, Johnny went over to where he had placed the stuff they had brought in with them.

"Hungry?" Johnny inquired as he handed me a sandwich wrapped in Saran wrap.

I was starving.

As I unwrapped the sandwich, Johnny wrapped a blanket around my shoulders.

I was so desperate for food that I didn't realize that the sandwich was turkey until I had already scarfed half of it down.

Johnny promptly offered me another sandwich, which I accepted without thought.

They both watched as I inhaled the second sandwich at the same speed as I had done with the first. I must have looked like a starved animal enjoying its first taste of food after a long winter of hibernation.

Johnny leaned down so that he was sitting almost directly in front of me, still allowing Winwin enough space on the floor so that he could also sit down to face me.

"Okay, now I know that you've been through a lot," Johnny started.

"But ************** a little more from you," Winwin interjected.

"You can take as much time as you need. We know that your body is under a lot of stress right now, but we need you to tell us the truth. The whole truth."

"Your only hope of making things better for you is ******* much detail as you can. Lying will only ******** more pain than you've already experienced."

"The boss thinks that we.... might have jumped to conclusions about your relationship with Lucas, which is why we need you to clear up a few things. Do you understand?"

Your eyes switched between the two men as each of them continued each other's explanations.

You nodded in response.

"Good!" Johnny exclaimed as he took a black box out of his pocket. He pressed a button on the device revealing to you that it was an old fashion tape recorder.

"Let's start with the first time you met Lucas," Johnny instructed.

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I had told them everything I could remember, sparing no details out of fear that any forgotten tidbits would result in the most dire of consequences. I was terrified of how they would react to my retelling of the events that night, but I figured that following their orders was my best chance of preventing any further mutilation. If I was going to be killed, I didn’t want to give them any more reasons to make my death a painful one.

At first, speaking was difficult, but once the turkey sandwiches caused my blood sugar levels to stabilize, it got easier. I started my story by telling them about how I was in such a desperate state that night that I resorted to pick pocketing drunks in order to find cash for food. I told them about my failed attempt to steal from Lucas and about how he didn’t turn me in after catching me. I explained how he bought me food and then offered me a place to spend the night, a chance to shower, and a fresh change of clothes.

Johnny and Winwin listened intently, only interrupting to specify small details or to ask me to go into more detail.

When I told them about the drinks, I chose to leave out the details about the drugging until I got to the part where I found out about it myself. I noticed how their eyes widened in interest as I finally got to the... climax of the story. When I recollected the moment when I first encountered the dead body, I went into precise detail about what style of dress she was wearing, the signs of obvious mutilation, and the features of her face that were still recognizable. Johnny had leaned over to whisper something incomprehensible into Winwin’s ear. Winwin nodded in response.

The only event that I wasn’t completely honest about was the actual act itself. I told them what happened, but I didn’t tell them about Lucas’ speech about how worthless I was or about how I lost control. Instead I told them that I only grabbed the baijiu bottle as a last attempt to save myself and that I only hit him with it until he ceased his attack. I told them that I hadn’t meant to kill him, that it just happened.

I thought that I had ran out of tears, but I was mistaken. Tears began to make their way down my face as I told the two men about the single worst night of my life, at least it was up until last night.

I was surprised when Johnny offered me his handkerchief. Neither one of them seemed angry or upset. Instead, they seemed genuinely concerned about my wellbeing. They were probably the most sympathetic looks that I had received since arriving at that hell hole.

When I finally finished going over the last of the events from that night, Winwin asked if there was anything else I wanted to add.

I shook my head.

“No.”

Johnny stopped the tape recorder with the press of a button and stood up off of the floor.

“You did great, Y/N,” Winwin assured me in his most comforting voice as he too stood up.

“Now I’m sure the boss wouldn’t like hearing me ask this, but is there anything else we can get you before we turn this in?”

I didn’t know what to ask for.

Sensing my hesitance, Johnny spoke up again.

“Once we hand this over to the boss, I honestly don’t know what will happen next. You might not get this offer again.”

Realizing that this was my last chance, I made my request.

“Is there any chance that I could perhaps take a shower?”

Winwin turned his face towards Johnny’s. No words were exchanged, but I could tell that they were debating the “grantability" of my request.

Johnny turned back to look down at me.

“I don’t see why not,” he answered.

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“A shower?” Jaehyun questioned.

He and Taeyong were sitting at the dining room table when Johnny entered the room.

“Yes sir. I asked if she needed anything right after we finished taping her story. I think that it is in our best interest to keep her feeling comfortable in case we need to ask her any more details,” Johnny explained.

“Well it isn’t too unusual of a request after being tied up in a room for two days,” Taeyong added.

“About the tape, what do you think?” Jaehyun leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs.

“Uh. I think it’ll be better if the tape speaks for itself,”

Jaehyun’s gaze remained fixed on Johnny for a a few seconds before he spoke up.

“Sure. Take her to the shower in the east wing. The one near IU’s old room. It doesn’t have any windows and the vent has been sealed off. Plus, it’s in the east wing where you won’t run into any of the other members.”

“Yes sir.”

“Oh, and one of you will need to be with her the entire time to make sure she doesn’t get up to anything. We still don’t know if she is connected to Lucas or not and I’m sure that he would have enough sense to teach his lackeys a few escape methods. Actually, make Winwin do it. He isn’t as emotionally inclined as you are, and we’ll want to hear your thoughts on her story.”

“Yes sir.”

“You may go now.”

Shortly after Johnny left the room, Jaehyun turned to Taeyong who already knew what his boss’s next orders would be.

“I guess we should rally everyone up.”

💚💚💚🖤🖤🖤

Johnny poked his head in the doorway. He didn’t say anything, he merely gave us a thumbs up and jerked his head slightly towards the side indicating for us to follow.

Having regained my strength, I was able to walk without any assistance. The stairs were hard at first, but my legs quickly adapted to the task I had so easily done all my life. The journey to the bathroom felt exactly like that, a journey. The long hallways and winding staircases that I had witnessed at Lucas’ estate seemed like a walk through the driveway when compared to this labyrinth like manor and it was only the east wing according to Johnny.

“We tend to stay within the north wing,” Johnny explained, filling the silence as we traveled the never-ending halls.

“We don’t really come here since...” His voice trailed off.

Despite my curiosity, I chose not to inquire about Johnny’s sudden quietness. Making myself a nuisance would only bring more difficulties.

I was still so confused. For the last two days, no one had really given me any substantive explanation for what was going on or why. I only received demands or punishment.

“Here we are,” Winwin, who had been leading the way, stopped in front of a soft lavender painted door.

I looked up at the two men as if to ask permission to act.

“I’m going to head back to show everyone the tape. Winwin, you know what to do.”

Winwin gave Johnny a nod.

“I’ll see you soon, Y/N, hopefully under better circumstances.”

Realizing that I wasn’t going to respond, Johnny flashed a small smile before disappearing around a corner.

“You could have thanked him, you know. I wouldn’t ***** that much effort to grant a hostage’s request,” Winwin muttered under his breath.

“Thanked him?” I could feel the anger bubbling inside me.

I was getting too brave and I knew it, yet I didn’t stop myself.

“Thank him for what? For showing me basic human decency after you guys kidnapped me, tied me up, starved me, and beat me?” If I was any louder it would have been considered shouting.

Winwin’s lips shifted into a smirk catching me off guard and shutting me up.

He continued to stare at me with a sort of amusement.

“What?” I demanded.

“I’m just curious as to how a man who’s had countless assassination attempts against him fail, could have been accidentally killed by someone like you,” Winwin enunciated clearly, allowing me to fully understand the meaning of his words.

“Are you saying you don’t believe me?”

“No, I believe you. I don’t think the others will, but I believe you.”

“What makes you different?”

I hadn’t realized how intensely Winwin had been staring at me until now. I broke eye contact, letting out a small cough to ease the suffocating energy that filled the hallway.

“I mean what makes you believe me?”

Winwin who was still staring at me, suddenly avoided me gaze as he shrugged.

“Are you going to shower or not?”

That was a strange reaction.

“Yeah,” I mumbled softly.

Winwin opened the door, but it led to a bedroom instead of a bathroom. I walked through the door as he held it open for me.

It was a woman’s room, or at least it appeared that it was. The décor was feminine yet mature, so it didn’t feel like a little girl’s room, but it was still trendy, signifying that whoever occupied this space was roughly around the same age as me. Our commonalities seemed to stop there. Besides the fact that I could never even dream of having a room this expensive looking, this room belonged to someone tidy. Everything was organized, the bed was made, the floor was absent of any unnecessary litter. The room almost gave off a ‘non-lived in’ feeling, like it hadn’t been used in a long time, which made sense since Johnny mentioned that the people rarely ever went into the east wing anymore.

“The bathroom is over here,” Winwin announced, pulling me from my thoughts.

I entered the bathroom and became immediately uncomfortable when Winwin followed.

“Wait. What are-”

“You didn’t think that the boss ****** let you take a shower ***** by yourself, did you?”

I was stunned by his words. I couldn’t have heard him right.

“I can’t turn around either, ****** makeshift weapon while I look away.”

Despite knowing very well that this man had already seen you in next to no clothing and not to mention. seen you urinating, you had to draw the line here.

“I’m not going to shower with you,” you asserted.

Winwin scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“I’m not going to get in the shower WITH you, dumb ass,” he barked.

“I’m just***** in this bathroom while you shower.”

I could see my cheeks turning red in the mirror’s reflection. I was embarrassed that I had jumped to such a lewd conclusion.

“You can take off your clothes behind the shower curtain if that makes you feel more comfortable. **** hand your ***** to me after you take them off,” he continued.

I continued to stare at him, feeling awkward.

Winwin let out a small sigh that sounded like it was more out of frustration than annoyance.

“Look, if ****** feel better, I’m not into women.”

“You’re gay?”

I didn’t know why I was suddenly so interested in the sexuality of one of my captors.

“I’m not exactly into guys either. It doesn’t matter. Are you going to shower or not?”

Instead of further probing him, I swiftly stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain closed behind me.

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reactionimagesdaily · 6 months

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#RIP to your sleep schedule my g #reaction image #reaction meme #daily reaction images #image mood: genuine wrath #submission

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pollylynn · 4 years

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Title: Pendulate WC: 1000

“What happens in your version?” — Kate Beckett, Boom! (2 x 18)

He is having a pretty good night. Day. Stretch of hours. Whatever you’d call his life post–Beckett’s hand dramatically appearing over the edge of her tub, he’s having a good one. It’s kind of awkward. Her apartment did blow up, pre-hand dramatically over the edge of her tub. And they are still hunting a serial killer, with indifferent success, who has just claimed another victim in what amounts to a fit of pique.

He’s well aware that he has to keep his ebullient mood on the down low, but it’s no mean feat, given the run he’s having here. For one thing, he has very nearly seen a very totally alive Kate Beckett very completely naked. For another, the stars have aligned to afford him the opportunity to wrap that self-same very totally alive (and very completely naked) Detective in his coat and do Sir Walter “Vanquisher of Puddles” Raleigh one better by escorting her from a burning building.

Furthermore, they have, together, quite possibly turned the tide in their search for the killer. They have unearthed a key piece of evidence—a general location that leads to an actual address, and at that address, his second villainous lair in as many days. The first lair had been exciting enough, what with its severed pinky and bomb-of-the-month-club kit sitting around, to say nothing of its hidden room. But the second lair is officially outstanding. He’s seen some stalker collage walls in his day, but this one has real artistic flair. He would not change a thing about the stalker collage wall.

And then there’s the writerly twist. The demented, room-sized mobile of typewritten pages impaled on sinister, oversized hooks knocks his heart around in his chest a little. He thinks of his own spring-clip and clothesline technique and the parallel sends a genuine chill down his not-so-easily-chilled spine. He picks up one of the thick manuscripts held together with industrial-strength binder clips. He feels the weight of it, and there’s another chill—another not so pleasant flash of recognition.

It’s his first inkling that his mood might not be so much ebullient as it is . . . manic, but there’s not really time to let that worry him. They are to “un-ass” lair number two, whatever that means. It means, he finds, after a metaphorical swat on the nose with a rolled up newspaper from Agent Shaw, that he was definitely not supposed to tuck their killer’s latest opus into his coat—a different coat, by the bye, than the one so recently adjacent to very complete nakedness. That coat is going to need a glass case, a pedestal, and quite possibly one of those cool laser-array security systems.

But he did tuck the manuscript in his coat, and swat on the nose or no, Shaw has left him to rifle through it. It is not good. It, in fact, sucks, and that swings his mood right back around. The book, if it even deserves that label, is comically terrible, and that just tickles him. He wants, badly, to read choice passages aloud in the back of the surveillance van, but he contents himself with scribbling them down, rather than disrupting the flow of conversation between the two very bad-ass crimefighters he happens to admire who happen to be nonchalantly discussing his loyalty, his essential contributions to the crime-fighting effort, and yes, his cocker spaniel–like attention span, but even with the run he’s having, you can’t win them all.

He’s still oscillating between chuffed and giddy when Shaw bails to lead her team in pursuit of their guy. Before she goes, she orders Beckett—the target—to stay in the van. It’s a see-saw moment. It gets a gold star because he gets to grin and tell her now she knows how he feels. It pulls the rug out from under him because she is the target. The reality of that lands on him—the horror he has been pushing away since her hand dramatically appeared over the edge of her tub. It paralyzes him and then she’s gone. She’s running—alone—after the man who wants nothing more in this world than her dead.

He waits, hunched in the back of the stupid van. There’s blood in his mouth from the door she slammed in his face. He silently bears the brunt of Shaw’s rage when she returns to find her op blown and Beckett gone. He is no longer having a good day. Night. Stretch of hours.

She is the target. He can’t get the sentence out of his head. It taps out a fearful rhythm against the inside of his ribs. It gives him courage grim enough to stare her down in all her wrath, even in front of Montgomery. You can, and you will.

She is the target. He gets her home—to his home. He plies her with hot cocoa. They banter. It’s what they do, but he’s embarrassed. He’s ashamed of his marathon giddy mood. He’s afraid of what tomorrow will bring. She is afraid, too. He reads it between her gallows-humor lines. He sees it, even as she tosses a napkin in his face signaling the final barb of the night between them.

Something about he way he flinches back splits the inside of his lip open again. He grimaces at the metallic tang of blood. He must make a sound. Something pulls her back around.

“You’re bleeding?” she approaches warily. She half reaches up, but her hand falls away. Pieces click together for her. “I did that.”

“Well,” he mumbles, “technically the back door of the van did that.”

She scowls at him. She rolls her eyes. Then she lifts up on her toes and swiftly presses her lips to the corner of his mouth.

“Sorry,” she whispers, and then she’s gone.

And he is standing there. He is having a pretty good night.

A/N: Yikes. If only this were a thing, I could kill its AU terrible fluffness DED.

images via homeofthenutty

#Castle #Caskett #Castle: Season 2 #Castle: Boom!#Kate Beckett #Richard Castle #Fic #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Fan Fic #Fan Fiction #Writing #Interrogatives?

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fallstreakfeathers · 4 years

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OM! Mc sheet

(update 7/18/20- information has been updated)

(form by @/luciferasmr )

Name: Kita (she never gives a surname, but it’s legally Bertrand)

Nickname (if any): n/a

Age: 23

Height: 5’5’’

Weight: 175Ib

Race: Human

Gender: Female

Birthdate: June 27

Star Sign: Cancer

Hair color: Medium Brown

Eye color: dark blue/green

Skin tone: light

Which sin are they like?

wrath

gluttony

greed

envy

pride

sloth

lust

(rest is under the cut because it gets super long)

Personality Traits: Let’s start with the negative, because it’s what’s seen the most in the first parts of Don’t Look Down: Kita has a very difficult time expressing most of her emotions correctly, partially because of her social anxiety and general nervousness. She’s afraid of social rejection, so she tends to isolate herself. She fears and doesn’t understand her own emotions, and is often even disgusted by them (particularly lust). Because of this, she’s prone to episodes of self-loathing and degrading herself. It isn’t exaggerating to say that fear rules much of Kita’s life. A lot of this behavior is due to her previous home situations and the way she grew up. Kita is easily spooked by rage and tends to automatically think that if someone’s angry it’s because of something she did. She has a hard time trusting others and when her trust is gained she can easily fall back into distrust weeks/months/years after the fact, even if she has no solid reason to. She does want to be able to express who she really is, but she often cannot get past her fears and probably won’t without help. Her disappointment in herself manifests itself as anger and causes her to snap at others or become snarky. She tends to treat others exactly how they treat her, regardless of the consequences. She believes that respect must be earned, and that simply demanding it is the quickest way to not get it. Kita is touch-starved, a result entirely of her own behavior, but frequently rejects any show of physical affection because of the way she sees herself and because she isn't used to it and doesn't understand the emotions it gives her or how to process them. It’s easier for her to pretend that she doesn’t deserve love and affection and to try to make herself as dislikeable and shut off as she can than attempt to take a risk and end up hurt. This is something she struggles with throughout Don’t Look Down. It isn’t a stretch to say that she’s constantly at war with herself and her own mind. This makes her susceptible to demons/etc that can manipulate the mind and her perception of the world around her.

Kita tends to hold very strong grudges if she feels she was wronged. Fortunately, it’s also (usually) fairly easy to get her forgiveness. On the flip side: She is incredibly loyal and protective of anyone who has managed to gain even a bit of her trust. When she loves someone, she loves very deeply and wholly. Due to her sensitivity to certain emotions, she is able to read moods fairly well and act accordingly. She finds it fairly easy to tell when someone is lying to her, although she rarely does anything about it but keep it in mind. Kita dislikes liars and is not a confrontational person unless angered. She’d rather know the truth, no matter how hard it is, than to catch someone being dishonest. She does not trust the Exchange Program, or Diavolo. Kita is extremely energetic and fun-loving within the safety of her mind, where she doesn’t have to fear others reactions. She likes to joke and snark with others. Kita currently shows her affection in small ways ( giving Beel treats from his favorite shop after a game, listening to Levi rant about TSL, etc) but will start showing physical affection as she becomes more comfortable. She has a strong urge to please others, and is usually pretty dependable. She doesn’t mind getting caught up in plot and schemes so long as it doesn’t pose a threat to her. She enjoys helping, even if the help is as small as retrieving a tool for someone. She actually really likes to wrestle and roughhouse with friends, and has a strong curiosity for the supernatural and for most new things. Despite being human, there isn’t much she wouldn’t be willing to do or lengths she wouldn’t go for those she cared for- even in a place as dangerous as the Devildom.

Background: Kita hates talking about her history, and actively brushes off questions about it with sarcastic remarks. (CW: mentions of abuse, alcohol, depression, anxiety. Kita has a shitty history with people and her family. ) Ages 1-11: Kita didn’t grow up in a supportive environment. Both her parents were alcoholics, and while she was never abused physically, the mental stress took a toll on her growing up and her ability to cope with things and express herself in a healthy way. Her father was a manipulative narcissist who frequently brought others down to bring himself up. As such, Kita grew up with a father who wanted nothing to do with her aside from her to stay out of his way and take care of the house. He often lied about his family to others to paint himself a victim. He frequently became drunk, only to shout and argue, sometimes for hours into the night. She always hid to avoid his rage. She has a very vivid memory of being woken up one night to this fighting and hearing him tell her mother that he did not love Kita and her twin. She has never forgotten. Kita, at 23, cannot be around drunk people without having dizzying anxiety. Her mother was better, but overly emotional and focused on her own feelings rather than her children's. All her mother's stressors were blamed on everyone else instead of her own behavior. She always had it worse than Kita and her twin, always ‘knew better’ than them, etc. While Kita was much closer to her mother than her father, she felt she could not trust her with talking about her own problems because of the way her feelings were often brushed off or marked as her being dramatic or over sensitive. She learned to bottle her emotions up in her childhood and to push them down until she would finally break, and then the process would repeat. Kita was 12 when she started telling herself she wasn’t worth anyone's time, and with nobody who would correct her, these thoughts only got worse and more destructive with time. She tended to fill the void she felt in herself with an excess of food and physical items. The food became habit and she struggles with her weight and physical image, although to a smaller extent than her mentality. Kita grew up witnessing her father's mental and verbal abuse towards her mother, and grew wary of ever entering a relationship with another person. Instead, she substituted that want with entertaining ideas of fictional characters that she knew could never hurt her. She became deeply enthralled with fantasy novels, and read them both out of interest and because they took her to another place- even for a short period of time. She doesn’t believe she’s ever been told by another person that they genuinely love her, and while part of that is her own fault- she also tends to believe that anyone who genuinely tells her that is lying- it’s done a number on her self esteem. To her, it proves herself right in the negative things she tells herself. She lacked friends in most of her school years because she closed herself off and intentionally made herself unlikeable. There was a period of time where she was bullied for her interests, and she received no help from adult figures. This would be around this time, at 16, that she really lost her trust in other people. Her anxiety spiked, and her depression worsened and she rarely spoke during her 17th year. Her twin moved out at 18 and she heard less and less from him until Kita herself moved out at 20 and cut ties with most people she’d known. She remained reclusive and although her depression waned, she continued nurturing bad mental habits. She left home only to work until her arrival in the Devildom.

Why were they chosen for Devildom? Kita asks herself this almost daily. [Will be revealed in DLD]

Hobbies: - Enjoys drawing although it frequently frustrates her. She uses art as a way to get rid of emotions she otherwise couldn’t handle. - She likes finding places to hide. It comforts her to know that she has places she can disappear should things get nasty, and the House of Lamentation is certainly full of hiding places.

Likes: - Storms. A good thunderstorm and a cup of tea tend to calm her better than anything, though she certainly wasn’t prepared for the strength of the thunder in the Devildom. - Snark/sarcasm. She greatly enjoys passing sarcastic remarks back and forth in good-natured banter. - She listens to music to sort her moods and emotions, even if she won’t act on them. It’s become a very important kind of therapy for her to remain in control of herself. - Stones. She doesn’t like precious stones for their monetary value, but for the emotional comfort they bring her. Malachite holds a special place in her heart and she often used it to ground herself when her anxiety got too strong. She’s had a hard time without a piece of it she could mess with.

Dislikes: - Kita despises being lied to. - She can’t stand people who smoke and doesn't like being around alcohol. - Being useless or a third wheel. - Diamonds/Rubies/other popular precious stones. She thinks they’re overrated and she feels hollow looking at them. She has a particular hatred for diamonds.

Casual Clothing

Top: Any neutral colored t-shirt. Agaros also lends her an outfit similar to his for when they go out on their motorbikes.

Bottoms: Grey sweats

Shoes: (dirty/stained) white tennis shoes

Accessories (if any): came to the Devildom with none. She acquires a few things, through Agaros: - A ring that monitors her heartbeat (she’s not aware of this. Agaros wanted to be able to know how she was doing when she was gone, but didn’t feel the need to draw attention to it or how much he actually enjoyed her company. The ring was very subtle and it connects to his own ring where he can feel her pulse. This does get addressed later). - An arm cuff with an enchanted moonstone that allows her to walk through areas of intense heat by forming a shield of cool air around her.

Glasses? nope.

Any alterations to their uniform? Kita’s uniform has an extra long sash that, instead of connecting to her shoulder, is long enough to dangle over it and down to her hips. She often clings to it when nervous or agitated.

Family

Mother: deceased

Father: alive

Siblings (if any): A twin, although she’s unaware if he is alive or not. Hasn’t had contact with him for years.

Pets? None, her apartment didn’t allow it.

How many friends does your Mc have? Kita distanced herself from all friends and relatives after moving out. Agaros is the first person she has considered a ‘friend’ in at least 4 years. He’s also the first in a very long time to really begin to see who she really is behind her thorns. It’s a big part of what attracted him to her in the first place, and like his obsession with machines, he wants to continue tinkering with and figuring out how this human works.

Has your MC had a relationship before? No.

Have they been in love? Not as far as she’s aware, but she’d definitely had a few crushes...Usually on fictional characters, but occasionally a real person worms their way into her sights.

How easy do they gain crushes? Fairly easily, but she doesn’t realize it because she tends to push the emotion down.

Do they believe in love? Kita doesn’t believe in ‘love at first sight’ and openly scoffs at the idea. She believes something like that is impossible, and she won’t be swayed on that. She does believe in love itself and its ‘types’.

What’s their type? She really couldn’t tell you. If she likes someone, she likes them. If she doesn't, she doesn't. She could be around 2 people with similar personality and morals and she could still dislike one of them and like the other. She’s not fond of flirting unless she already knows the person.

Sexuality: She never bothered trying to label herself but whatever she is, she leans towards men.

Which one of the 7 brothers does your MC like the most? Currently: Beelzebub (much) Later: Belphegor

Why ? Although originally intimidated by his size, Beel’s rather quiet disposition and his bluntness made him easy to be around because Kita didn’t need to dissect any hidden meaning in his words. He also didn’t make her feel like she had to speak or explain herself or her actions. To put it simply: she didn’t feel like he really judged her for anything she did, and that was important to her. She didn’t feel like she needed a ‘reason’ to talk to him, even if she rarely did when she first arrived, and she didn’t feel like he lied to her often. Eventually as Kita got to know him better, she became very fond of his kindness and how much he cares for his family. What traits do they look for in a partner? She has to be able to sit in a comfortable silence with whoever her potential partner is. They also need to be able to make her laugh, and she needs to be able to feel like she can be herself with them. She does not, and will never, do ‘one night stands’. She finds them wrong and dangerous.

Favorite food: most sweet food, but she’s rarely picky

Least favorite: sour pastas and anything pickled (except actual pickles)

Favorite topic in school: fond of classes where she learns about the flora and fauna of the world and about its other inhabitants. She has a particular interest in dragon and demon physiology and learning about various demons abilities.

Least favorite topic: math, dislikes anything having to do with dissection.

Favorite color: Grey. Grey is soft and safe and reminds her of storm clouds.

Least favorite color: yellow. Too bright and in-your-face.

Do they like to be sociable or are they more of a recluse? Recluse.

Favorite movie genre? Comedy. Fantasy

Do they read a lot or no? Read a lot of fantasy before entering the Devildom. Generally reads nonfiction science/etc now that she doesn’t feel like she has the need to use fantasy novels to escape her boring reality. Reality has become a strange kind of fantasy to her.

Favorite animal: Dragons, although she previously didn’t believe they were real. Loves dogs.

Favorite genre of music: Trailer/epic orchestral tracks.

Least favorite genre: Refuses to listen to heavy metal or opera. Also generally despises rap.

Do they like sweets? yEAH

Do they like spicy food? Not a fan

Do they like school? She enjoys certain topics but isn’t fond of being stuck in a room with 35 other people she doesn’t know. Also isn't fond of being graded.

Pet peeves: Kita can’t stand others trying to take food off her plate. She doesn’t mind sharing, just don’t take it from her without permission. She’s smacked Beel’s hand plenty of times, and will even go so far as to grab her plate and turn her chair away from the table to eat. She also hates her arm being poked. Doesn’t like most nicknames unless she’s especially close with the person.

#obey me #obey me oc #obey me fanfic #obey me meme #Don't Look Down #arkwrites #obey me template #q #dont look down #this was fun!

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guksauce · 4 years

Text

~TickledPink!~

Part Three

Pairing: Jjk x Reader Pregnant AU

Word Count: 2,641K

Rated: M

Book Warnings: Mentions of Sexual Assault, Mild Smut, Adult Language, Fluff City.

Author: @guksauce

Notes: Thank you to those that give this story and myself love 💖 This one was for Taehyung, getting to spread his wings and be the little artist he is!

Tag List: @jamkookies @jk97luv @1-in-abillion

All you know is whoever just threw open your curtains is in direct line of facing your wrath. Early, dramatically slanted, morning rays flood Jimin’s bedroom and your cracked eyes catch the way dust particles fall like glitter to the ground. The idea of waking up and having to leave this bed after Jimin had changed all the linen to clean sets last night, felt like a crime. His generosity spree came back to you in vivid colors; vibrant pink tufts of hair, borrowed fluffy white Chanel sweaters, smiling crescent eyes, and smoky white curled wisps of hot latte steam. Exchanging old stories about each other’s parents and home life from days gone by helped you to almost completely forget the argument you’d witnessed. The argument you’d caused. Jimin had begged you to not let it bother you so much and had shown you nothing but genuine friendship and support, that of which you would forever remain in his debt for doing so. But you would never fully forgive yourself for making a rift.

You couldn’t even be mad at the curtain culprit, especially not when his face was all the best parts of happiness embodied. Childishly puffed cheeks under smoldering taupe eyes, and heart shaped lips curved into a smile so unimaginably warm. He exuded a coziness so genuine it was impossible to feel anything but whimsical.

“Good morning Y/n-ssi.” Protests to even being talked to yet leave your throat in gargled groans as you cover your eyes, providing some relief from the sunlight.

“Good morning Taehyung-ah. What time is it?” Not that it matters, it’s obviously too early to care about times or anything for that matter. Tae’s mood is high above you, raining down in feathery words and soft chuckles. You feel bad for not being more of a morning person so that you could enjoy being rained on by Tae while being warmed by the sun, but he doesn’t seem to mind the groggy attitude you wear as he waltzes to the door.

“It’s 11am. I was going to let you sleep in longer, but I’ve been working on a surprise for you that I would really love for you to see.” Long strides leave behind the potent but endearing scent of fresh paint. It mixes with a familiar cologne and you decide that this is probably what Tae smells like all the time; art.

“A surprise for me? But why?” Before you can question it further, he’s taking your hand and pulling you from your heap of warm blankets and leading you out of the comfort of Jimin’s bedroom. It was the first time you’d been outside of his room since last night amidst the chaos and youd be lying if you said the air outside of the room felt sticky with remnants of tension. You squeeze Tae’s hand as you scan the halls and nearby rooms with wide eyes in fear of being seen by one of the other members.

“They’re gone. They went out shopping for the day, so you can relax.” The gesture isn’t a lot, but the way Tae slows his steps to fall in line with you and gives your hand a much needed reassuring squeeze back, keeps you from gulping for air when you think you might just break down in the middle of the hallway. “Ok! This is where you have to cover your eyes.” You do as you’re told and cover your face with your hands. Tae makes a sound of approval just before you spread your fingers enough to peek through.

“No, no, no! No peeking.” He laughs and uses his own hand to double cover your eyes. The sound of a handle turning is heard, as well as his voice behind you guiding you to the surprise. The smell of paint becomes more pungent as it fills your nostrils, along with a gust of cold morning air through an open window. There’s a dull ache in your head but its worth it when Tae uncovers your eyes and lets out a small “Tada!”

Together you stand in an empty room. Except it doesn’t feel so empty. Instead its full. Very full. Of what, you’re uncertain but you can feel that it holds something powerful. It reminds you of the feeling Jungkook and Jimin described last night; pure elation, as though you aren’t the only two standing in this room.

“Taehyung…You did all of this?” In this room stands tall walls similar to that of Jimin’s room except all of these walls are a beautiful lavender purple. Despite the overwhelming aroma of paint, somehow it morphs into fields of tall stalks of tiny purple flowers and the autumn winds turn into balmy summer breezes carrying tiny white dandelion seeds.

“Yup! We wanted to make sure you had a space of your own and I got to thinking last night that it would be fun to customize it for you.” Crisp white trim kept the room bright and the purple filtered out any harshness that an all-white room would have. It was comforting and calm and Zen.

“You really didn’t have to do this Tae. This is too much.” You say shaking your head as you take one last look around.

“Ah, what’s a little paint? It took no time at all and it wasn’t hard.” Taehyung watches you closely as you look around. He sees the moment your features change from awe to guilt; smiling eyes pointed up to the sky fall to your cheeks and a wide grin droops to pouting lips that you try to hide by walking to the window. He seizes the opportunity. “Damn it, I missed a spot.” He says through a full smile when you turn around. Taking in his appearance, you finally see the hard work built up on his clothes. His white shirt is forever stained with purple paint where he’d spattered it everywhere from the roller, and his black sweatpants artfully ruined with full on handprints in both purple and white.

When he holds out a paintbrush to you and the smile returns to your face, he hopes you wont mind being covered as well.

“You know, as wonderful as this is, I don’t know if ill be staying here. I don’t want to ruin Yoongi and Namjoon’s relationship any more than I already have.” You take the brush from Tae’s hand and stare at the bristle’s already muddied with wet lavender paint.

“I think you should stay. Just because Yoongi was mad doesn’t mean you are disliked.” Tae says softly and you nod. Turning to the wall, you dip your brush into the paint and smearing it onto the surface in patterns that look like the thoughts swimming in your mind. There should probably be a pattern. Up, down. Up, down. Or side to side even but you fill the white spaces with swirls and circles. Tae pauses and almost protests but tilts his head to the side as he considers this a window into how you see the world. He joins you with a lop-sided smile on his lips, trying his best to blend his designs with yours.

“This rooms been empty forever. I’m glad you’re filling it. And from what I heard from Jungkook and Jimin this morning, for more reasons than why you were brought here, they are too.” Out of the corner of your eyes you can see the way Tae turns his head to see your reaction to his words and you can’t help but smile.

“I feel like…I’ve tainted this place.” You admit and he bathes in those words, soaking up whatever meaning he found in them.

“Any family of Namjoon’s, is family of ours.” He says firmly, pausing to choose his next words very carefully. “It’s been just us for so long…I think for all of us its hard to imagine there being anyone else. But really its nice.” Tae peeks again in your direction to gauge your reaction. Your smile is thin and small but it’s there and that’s all he needs to push forward. “Sometimes we forget why we do what we do. Becoming more of an image for others has really blended in with the fame, you know? Sometimes things start to merge, and we get caught up in the work of it all and forget to remember where the power comes from. It comes from our connection with people. With our fans. With our family. With you. I think you coming into our lives has reminded us just how fortunate we are to be where we are and who we are and how we are together.” At this point, Taehyung has lost himself in his self-realization and his words get quieter as he begins to talk more to himself and less to you.

It continues this way while you each fill in the blank space on the wall, talking nonstop to each other. Mostly its Taehyung. His easy-going attitude and free-spirited aura breaks your wall of nerves. He tells you everything from his life on the farm with his parents, to his beginnings with the guys and how fond he’s grown of them over the years. His story is long and really you don’t mind listening because it’s amazing he’s even come this far in such a short amount of time. Your proud of him because really, it’s a lot and you can’t imagine having to cope with all of this fame and fortune and recognition at such a young age.

It makes you admire him a little more as you watch him fill in the last strip of white paint with the purple color, he picked out for you. For you…

“Thank you.” It’s cold on the floor where you’ve made a small nest in the protective sheet covering the floor. The paintbrush in your hand feels heavy and your limbs feel like they might fall off if you raise them above your head again. In hindsight you probably should have let Tae take care of the top half and you the bottom half but being next to each other seemed to work better for conversation.

“It was really no trouble Y/n. It was fun. Its been a long time since I’ve had another person to talk to. Don’t get me wrong,” He starts, wiping his hands on his shirt leaving streaks where more droplets fell onto the fabric, and turns to you on the floor. “I love my brothers. Their great and talking to them is always…well…great. But talking to you about my journey has been really new and refreshing.” Kneeling to you he smiles a thousand-watt smile that all but blinds you. “So, thank YOU for reminding me of who I am and who I’ve become.”

“Yeah. You’re welcome.” You see his smile and raise him a bigger one followed by a much-needed hug. “If anything, you’ve only given us a new layer of glue. It was a test of our friendship and it survived. Sometimes we aren’t so sure we belong together but its moments like this where we feel like we can. Like we Will.” His embrace is warm and welcoming and you’re sad you hadn’t gotten to know him a lot sooner. Curse Namjoon for being so-

“Taehyungie! We’re home!” Down the hall the lock on the door clicks and the handle creeks slowly. Jimin’s voice is the first to echo the walls of the apartment.

“Can you come help us carry in groceries!” Hoseok asks, the sound of his shoes squeaking on the hardwood floors of the foyer. Everything in your body begs you to run, the muscles in your legs clenching as you try to tug away from Tae’s embrace.

“Don’t run, Y/n. You don’t have to run.” Tae doesn’t know what’s happened to you, so he doesn’t realize the way he’s triggered you by holding you in place until you’ve frozen in his arms.

“I just...I have to get some things from Jimin’s room. I forgot to clean up some stuff and…and.” Footsteps approach your purple room and though being clung to makes your heart beat wildly in your chest, you hold Tae tighter the closer they get.

“Taehyung have you seen Y/n? She’s not in Ji-oh.” You let out a deep breath when you connect the voice with the face that appears in the doorway to your new room. It’s much brighter than the first time you’d seen it. In fact, Jungkook was glowing. He didn’t look plagued with sleepiness or twisted with anger at Yoongi. Instead he was fresh and glowing and…beyond handsome. Gently you step away from Taehyungs hug and wave awkwardly.

“Hey.” You say.

“Hey.” He responds, an adorable smile pulling at his lips. The way the sunlight pours in from the window behind you, it catches strands of his long hair and turns them to warm melting chocolate.

“I was just thanking Tae for painting this room for me. It’s my favorite color.” You smile fondly at Taehyung who bows formally like the little prince he is and turn back to Jungkook. He nods and takes another look around with his hands folded behind his back.

“It’s pretty. He did a good job.” He states, taking a step closer to you. The smile lingering on his face melts you into a puddle as you observe him. For a second you feel bad for leaving Tae standing alone in the corner of your room while you gawk at Jungkook, but he’s content with admiring his work. “And I see you helped.” Kook chuckles as he reaches up before he realizes what he’s doing and wipes your chin, revealing a purple smudge on the pad of his thumb when he pulls away. The gesture is harmless to everything but your heart. You flush immediately and laugh as you rush to start pulling up sheets from the floor.

“I did! It was really fun. Tae and I had a great time. He told me all about his family and how he met all of you and-. “

“What’s this?” The voice that fills the room isn’t smoldering like Tae’s or lifting like Jungkook’s. Instead its deep and layered with mild disappointment.

“I painted Y/n’s room so she will be more comfortable here.” Taehyung says with no signs of wavering as he moves closer to you. His voice doesn’t shake like your knees do.

“Mm.” Unable to read Yoongi’s emotion, you stay glued to your spot in the far corner of the room as his eyes scan the room before settling on the sheets in your arms. “Ill take those.”

“Um…I can take them…” Momentarily you’re surprised that he would even offer to take the sheets. Why would he want to help you after the unintentional tear you’ve made? No. Don’t. Tae said you…you’re the glue.

“I’m doing laundry tonight so I should just wash them.” This time when he holds his hands out in your direction, its no longer a question. He’s taking the sheets. You rush across the room, scooping up the last sheet on your way and keep your focus on the ground beneath you as you hand them over. He doesn’t tug them away from you like you expect him to. Neither does he make any sounds or signs of protest or disgust and really you feel like begging him to punch you square in the face for the trouble you’ve caused. Stop! Tae said you’re family.

“Dinner will be ready in 10 minutes.” Yoongi says no more and no less and it’s a blessing. A blessing because this is normal for him and normal is better than yelling at Namjoon or cursing at Jungkook. You consider this a win and bow softly as Yoongi departs, leaving the feeling of your new purple room in the same condition it was before; happy.

Part Two

Master List

Part Four

#writers #jeon jungkook #jungkookfanfic #daddy jungkook #bts dads #bts fanfiction #fanfiction #bts #taehyungie #taetae #kim taehyung #purple #jeongguk #tickled pink!#bangtanscenery

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years

Text

Treasured Family: Chapter 1

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Scott, John, Alan, Gordon, Virgil

Scott's day hadn't gone well, and was about to get worse. John doesn't care for that, and Alan makes a good accomplice. Post-Episode Tag for 3.22 "Buried Treasure"

Today, John mused as he carefully stayed quiet on the comms, had not been Scott's day. Even now, the rescue long finished, Scraps and her, well, scraps, deposited safely away from WRMs (and with promises to hit Gordon up first when she sold the outdated tech), the comms were full of nothing but frosty silence. The lack of anything at all from Thunderbird Two, when usually Gordon never shut up and Virgil despite his complaints enabled the noise rather than silencing it, was an indication that both brothers had yet to forgive Scott for the chaos that had been a successful yet unsuccessful mission.

The apologies from Thunderbird One had long since petered out into an awkward and slightly upset silence. It was unusual to say the least for Scott to seem unsure about anything, but even Thunderbird One wasn't quite flying right – an awkward speed somewhere between keeping pace with Two and leaving her behind. Their eldest brother couldn't work out if he needed to try and keep mending bridges, or let things settle first.

This wasn't going to be resolved by the time they got home. Muting his end of the channel with his flying brothers, John floated over to open a new channel directly to Alan. The youngest needed warning of the black cloud approaching at approximately Mach 2, if only to know to stay out of the way, or at least to not wind any of the brothers up more than they were already.

Truthfully, John didn't consider Scott at fault for anything that had happened. Not really, anyway. Maybe he should have listened to Gordon about not taking the mint condition figure out of the box, but the sink hole was more or less entirely the WRM's fault and, if he was honest, John's. Scott had been an unwilling passenger in what, for him, had been a disaster of a rescue through and through. The one who had told Gordon where to surface, and consequently where to lead the WRM, had been their very own Eye in the Sky, because John cared less about well-sculpted topiaries and more about his brothers not being munched by a mechanical monster.

It was telling how upset Gordon was about the figure that he hadn't pointed that out to Virgil, who was intent on taking out all of his artist's ire on their eldest and genuinely didn't know who had decided where they should surface. John had considered taking the heat off of Scott and admitting that himself, but while that might endear him to Scott, getting involved meant picking a side, willingly or not. It would do less to clear Scott's name and more to invoke a full on battle with the lines drawn at a fair two on two.

John didn't want a battle. Not now, when things were finally going right and Scott was somehow finding moments to be not stressed out of his mind. Virgil and Gordon might be fuming away at ruined antiques and foliage, but John couldn't get the image of Scott playing with the figure, even if it was just something as small as pulling the stretchy arms, out of his head. When was the last time Scott had played with anything? More than that, he'd gone out of his way to apologise to the gardener, attempted to stop Two from causing more damage, and refused to use the Mole Pod where it would wreck the lawn. The Scott of barely a week ago would never have done any of that, forging his way through with the mission and ignoring anything not directly relevant.

The old Scott, the one from when Dad was still around and he didn't have the weight of the world on his shoulders, had attempted to resurface. To John, that was worth a ruined collectable and destroyed bushes – and in a few hours, once they'd cooled off, he knew his brothers would agree.

Unfortunately, that wouldn't do anything for Scott's bad day in the meantime. Brains was rightfully delighted about his successful battle with the Hood, even if there was that one problematic issue amongst the otherwise perfect result, but John didn't think that would do anything towards sparing Scott the wrath of the engineer for the loss of yet another pod. Again, not his fault, but like Virgil and Gordon, Brains wasn't going to care that much about that. Then, Mechanic's bad news would probably shatter whatever remained of Scott's temporary stress-free mood and they'd be back to square one.

John didn't particularly care to see that too soon. He re-opened the line to Alan.

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

Next chapter

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #john tracy #scott tracy #the other three will appear later #episode tag #treasured family #tsari writes fanfiction

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krizaland · 5 years

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ok, so imagine this, yandere zim has a nice and obedient friend but zim takes it too far and she reaches her limit. Sorry if it's a bit odd and not specific but can you do something with that?

It’s all good! I got the perfect idea! I took a little inspiration from my childhood nightmares of Zim turning me into an Irken.

I even drew up a picture to go with it!

Be warned: Reader will be experimented on! Also, Yanderes are creepy fucks. There won’t be anything sexual but things will get very creepy and disturbing.

You had been friends with Zim for over 6 months now! Zim never knew why you would always be so nice to him.

At first he thought you were trying to expose him but after learning that you were just genuinely nice, Zim decided to let you live.

Zim had to admit, you did start to grow on him.

You would always compliment him on his various gadgets and would listen to him whenever he needed to vent.

You weren’t too clingy and gave him the space he needed.

Soon, Zim learned that you seemed to enjoy helping him out from time to time.

You would often bring him homework he had forgotten and even acted as a human shield whenever Dib decided to try to start a food fight.

Zim thought it was strange at first but appreciated your dedication.

“Y/N, I’d like to take a moment to thank you for your services.You have been most useful to me!” Zim explained as he patted your head.

“Of course, Zim! I’d do anything for you!” You chirped.

“Anything?” Zim parroted as he tilted his head.

“Well, anything in my power anyway.” You laughed.

“I shall hold you to that promise then.” Zim mused as he narrowed his eyes.

As time went on, Zim found himself falling in love with you.

At first he had a meltdown! He couldn’t be in love with a filthy human! This would ruin his mission!

Why couldn’t you have at least been Irken instead of human?! At least then he wouldn’t have to destroy you!

Suddenly, he got an idea.

An awful, nasty idea.

“Computer! Get me in contact with Prisoner #777 on planet Vort!” Zim ordered as he pointed to the ceiling.

“GETTING IN CONTACT WITH PRISONER #777!”

Soon the monitor crackled to life and revealed Prisoner #777 sitting in his usual prison cell.

“What is it this time, Zim?” He groaned as he turned to look at him.

“I need you to get me blueprints for an Irken PAK!” Zim demanded as he put his hands behind his back.

“Why would you need PAK blueprints? What’s wrong with the one you have now-”

“DO NOT QUESTION ME! I HAVE YOUR CHILDREN REMEMBER!” Zim roared as he gestured to a small tube with Prisoner #777′s kids bouncing around inside.

“Just give me what I asked for.” Zim growled.

“Ok! Ok! Fine! I was just asking! Here you are.” Prisoner #777 squeaked as he sent Zim the blueprints.

“Excellent.” A massive grin spread across Zim’s face as he downloaded the blueprints.

“Now, I’m sill in prison so if you could just-”

“END THE CALL!”

Zim’s grin grew wider as he looked over the blueprints.

“Yes! Yes!! With these blueprints I can create a PAK to store Y/N’s personalty and memories and upload them into a SUPERIOR IRKEN BODY!” Zim let out a maniacal laugh as he raised his hands in the air.

Wasting no more time, Zim threw on a lab coat and green goggles and got straight to work.

Once his hard work had been completed, Zim threw on his disguise and made his way to Skool. Zim could hardly contain his excitement! He couldn’t wait to put his plan into action!

Zim let out a squeal when he spotted you walking his way.

“Hey, Zim! Looks like someone is in a good mood today!” You giggled as you took notice of the massive grin plastered on Zim’s face.

Zim cleared his throat and took a deep breath.

“Y/N? Is it true that you would do anything for me?” Zim purred as he circled you.

“Well, I have my limits but yeah.” You felt yourself get a little nervous as Zim sauntered closer.

"Very well. If you speak the truth, then you shall follow me to my base-I mean house! You shall follow me to my perfectly normal house and not question a thing.” Zim’s voice lowered a bit as he spoke.

“O-Ok then. Is something wrong?” You asked as you followed Zim back to his base.

“Oh don’t worry, sweet Y/N. I can assure the problem will be solved once we get inside.” Zim stifled a sinister chuckle as he opened the door.

“Welcome home, son!” The Robo parents eagerly greeted as they stepped aside.

“So these are your parents?” You asked as you tried to inspect the robo parents.

“Yes. Yes. I love them with all my heart, now keep following me.” Zim grumbled as he dragged you along.

“Wow, your house sure is um...interesting.” You murmured as you looked around at all of Zim’s bizarre decor.

“Alright, Y/N. Just stand right here for me!” Zim commanded as he pointed to a spot in front of his toilet.

“Ok then...” You were horribly confused but did as you were told.

“Excellent! Now hold still.” Zim chuckled darkly

“Zim what’s going on-Ack!”

PAF!

You were engulfed in a sea of bright pink mist.

You let out a few coughs before collapsing to the ground

“Sleep well, my sweet.” Zim’s voice melted into a dark whisper as he scooped you off the ground.

Zim dragged your unconscious body into his lab and strapped you down to a large metal table.

He changed back into his lab coat and goggles and placed a strange Irken helmet over your head.

“I’ll admit, you’re actually quite attractive for a human. I almost feel bad about letting such a lovely form go to waste.” Zim mused as he caressed your cheek.

“Oh well! I’ve come too far to turn back now!” Zim chirped as he hooked up the helmet to the new PAK he had just built for you.

Zim erupted into thunderous maniacal laughter as he flipped a large purple switch.

ZAP!

Zim’s laughter echoed throughout the lab as your mind and spirit was slowly uploaded into the PAK.

“Awaken, my sweet.”

You let out a gasp the moment your heavy eyelids opened.

Your world was encased in a murky purple bubble. All you could make you was a distorted image of a bug like creature staring back at you. His voice sounded muffled but you could still understand his words.

“Computer! Release, Y/N!” Zim commanded as he pointed to the ceiling.

CRASH!

The glass chamber you were floating in was shattered to the ground.

CLANG!

You let out a yelp as you felt a large metal object being injected into your back.

ZAP!

A small electric shock surged through your body for a moment.

You let out a groan as you tried to process what was going on.

"HA! Success!” Zim squealed as he zipped to your side.

His ruby eyes twinkled with excitement as he took in your new form.

You were beyond perfect! You were breathtaking!

Your antennas were perfectly curled and your F/C eyes sparkled under the lab’s dim lighting.

Even your height was perfected as your new Irken body was a foot taller than your old human one.

Zim became so entranced by your beauty that he fell to the floor for a moment.

You let out a gasp and tried to check on him. However, there was no need!

“REACTIVATING!”

ZAP!

Zim’s PAK sent out a small electric shock and revived him from his trance.

Zim shook away the excess shock and turned his attention back to you.

“Oh my god! Are you alright?!” You squeaked as you covered your mouth.

“Never better, my sweet, Y/N! The real question is how do you feel?” Zim crooned as he pointed at you.

“Oh? Well, I feel kinda out of it, now that you ask.” You explained as you held your head.

“I see. Well, your entire human brain has been uploaded into your PAK. So I guess you need some time to get used to things.” Zim hummed as he rubbed the back of his head.

“Wait what?!”

“Oh ho! Oh yeah! You were unconscious when all the stuff happened.” Zim chuckled.

“When what stuff happened?! What’s going on here?!” You demanded as you put your hands on your hips.

“Weeeell, I removed your brain data from your old PATHETIC HUMAN BODY and transferred it into a SUPERIOR IRKEN BODY!” Zim sang.

“WHAT?! I’M NOT HUMAN ANYMORE?!” You shrieked as you frantically patted all around yourself.

“Nope! You are no longer a FILTHY HUMAN! You are now A SUPERIOR IRKEN LIFE FORM!!! See?” Zim sang as he held up a small mirror.

You let out another shriek!

You couldn’t even recognize yourself anymore!

Your skin was green and your eyes were F/C and bug like! Any traces of hair were gone! Now all you had were two curly antennas on your head.

You backed away and almost slipped on the left over purple goo on the floor.

“Now. Now. It’s alright! You just need to take some time to adjust to your new body!” Zim reassured as he gently took your hands in his.

“No! Let go of me, you freak!” You seethed as you snatched your hands away.

“But, Y/N! It’s me, Zim!” Zim insisted as he gestured to himself.

“What the-Zim?! You’re an alien?!” You yelped as a shudder ran down your spine.

“Indeed I am! I’m sorry, my sweet Y/N but Zim is not a normal human worm baby. Zim is a MIGHTY IRKEN WARRIOR! SENT ON A SPECIAL MISSION TO DESTROY THIS MISERABLE PLANET FOR MY LEADERS, THE ALL MIGHTY TALLEST!” Zim cackled as he threw his hands into the air.

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing! The green skinned boy you called your friend was an evil monster from beyond the stars!

“I can’t believe it! Dib was right about you! You are a monster!” You choked out as pink tears streamed down your face.

“Monster?! Zim is no monster! I did this to protect your precious life! When the armada arrives they will fire a cannon sweep to eradicate any remaining non Irken life forms. This was the only way to spare you from the armada’s wrath! I couldn’t bear to live with myself if I lost you! I care about you far too much!” Zim explained as he activated his spider legs to reach your face better.

“If you really cared about me, you wouldn’t have done this! Change me back, Zim! I can’t live my life like this!” You wailed as you gestured to yourself.

“Never! This is for your own good! You’ll thank me once the armada gets here!” Zim snarled as he drew closer.

“Zim! Listen to reason! You can’t keep me like this!” You pleaded as you backed away from him.

“Oh but I can! And I will. You might as well forget about your pathetic former human body! I’ve already disposed of it!” Zim chuckled darkly as he circled you.

“WHAT?! THIS IS INSANE!” You screeched as you tried to get away.

“Isn’t it though? Don’t worry, I think you’ll find your new body to be a major improvement.” Zim purred as he grabbed your arm and rubbed his face up against it.

“GET OFF OF ME!” You tried to pull your arm away but Zim’s grip was far too tight.

“No. I don’t think I will....Mmm you smell divine my sweet. No longer are you plagued by that DISGUSTING humany smell! Now you’re perfect. Perfect in every way.” Zim’s voice melted into a soft whisper as he kissed his way up your arm.

SMOOCH!

He planted a large kiss on your cheek.

You let out a startled yelp and tried to shake him off of you but yo no avail.

“Stop your struggling, my sweet. I’m not trying to harm you,” Zim purred as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

“You’ve already hurt me, Zim! By turning me into a freak!” You sobbed as Zim begun to pepper your neck with slightly rough kisses.

“Oh you say that now, yes but I don’t think you really mean it.” Zim let out a few chirps as he wrapped his arms around you.

“I mean it, Zim! You’ve hurt me! I can’t believe I actually thought you were my friend!” Your voice cracked as more pink tears streamed down your cheeks.

“Perhaps you’re right. Maybe I am not your friend. Maybe I am something more...” Zim circles around to properly face you.

“What are you-MMPH!”

Zim grabbed your face and crashed his lips onto yours.

He let out a low, growly moan as his worm like tongue forced its way into your mouth.

You tasted so divine. Zim couldn’t get enough of you. His tongue curled around yours and playfully wrestled with it.

You let out a muffled yelp as your eyes widened in horror. You wanted to fight back but Zim had already overpowered you.

Soon Zim released you and licked his lips.

“Maybe I am your master...”

#invader zim #invader zim x reader #Anonymous

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