fucker

my writing - he/they/it - call me wil, damien, or remus - im a hoe

[wilfords-words]

heart shaped lines

CHAPTER TWO

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Rating: E

Characters: Yancy, Y/N, Dark is mentioned

Warnings: None

Notes: yooo subplots!! character depth!!! general tomfoolery!!!!

Music I wrote this to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1jenJHsBCxc&list=TLPQMDMwNjIwMjJ9CPhxh6kdZQ&index=1

Taglist: @inkeris , @i-got-a-bad-feeling-about-this

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“I… thinks this is really the start of something… beautiful.” Yancy proclaimed, running a hand through your H/C hair. “What do you mean by that?” You questioned, his unusual seriousness piquing your interest. “I thought- I thought you was in love wit’ me..? Am I wrong?” Yancy said, disbelief dimming his usually bright tone. You removed your head from his shoulder to make painfully tense eye contact. “No, I…-” You began. “No, no. I understands. You would never love some… prison rat.” Yancy temperamentally interjected. “I shoulda known. You was always outta my league.” “Yancy, that’s not what I’m- That’s not what I’m saying.” You argued, finding his jumping to conclusions just the slightest bit presumptuous. “I’m in love with you, Yance.” His mouth fell agape, and he started dramatically looking around with wide eyes. “For reals?!” You chuckled. “Yes, Yancy. For reals.” “I… I love youse too.” “Enough to… break out?” You joked. “Of this place?” He giggled, completing the clever reference. “In all seriousness though, Y/N-” His voice got drowned out by the yelling of others as everyone was escorted out of the cafeteria. You hurried up and left the room, linking pinkies with Yancy. You two were escorted back to your cell, which seemed to allow for more privacy than before, which didn’t seem too bad. “Now, about what you were saying before- would you..,” You lowered your voice. “…break out? For me?” “I don’t- I don’t know.” He pulled you in for a hug and began rubbing your back gently. “But until then, I swea’ on my dead mom I won’t let youse go.” Hot tears slid from your eyes, temporarily staining the shoulder of Yancy’s white shirt. Your mind was naught but a messy pile of thoughts; I love him, I love him, I love him. You backed up a step and cradled his jawline in your dry palms. He raised an eyebrow, but moved his hands around your shoulders. “Would you like for me to kiss you right now?” You asked, quite the polite person. “Yeah.” He smiled. And so your lips connected. His breath tasted like cigarette smoke and cheap mint. He playfully nibbled on your bottom lip. You used your dominant hand to push his stray hair behind his ear and run your hand through it as the kiss continued. Soon it came to a close, and you stared into his eyes for a moment. The skin around them was blotted with tattoo hearts, and you rubbed you finger over them. He laughed quietly. He was perfect. You didn’t want to leave him. Except there was one flaw in your grand plan of staying with Yancy forever: You already had an escape plan for next week. Dark was to come pick you up and bring you to live in the manor with everyone else. He had paid the bail and everything. And the worst part was: Dark didn’t know about Yancy at all. Sure, you had wanted to talk about him a million times before- he had been your silly heartthrob of a crush for months now. But it would have been too risky. You knew it. So you just looked at him, smiling and heart pounding, him not knowing a word of what you had just realized. And maybe it was for the better.

[wilfords-words]

currently evilly grinning as I break all of y’all’s hearts in chapter two

[wilfords-words]

heart shaped lines

CHAPTER ONE

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Rating: E

Characters: Yancy, Y/N

Warnings: None

Notes: uhhhh this is chapter one actually bc i rlly like this concept- i will definitely update this again later, but i’m just anxious to get chap 1 out. my brain is fried rn

Taglist: @inkeris

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Filtered sunlight struck your eyes, awakening you from somewhat pleasant dreams, though you didn’t remember what they were about. You laid in bed for a bit, tossing and turning in an attempt to fall back asleep. Prison beds weren’t exactly comfortable. Creaking springs squeaked beneath you as a pair of monolid eyes met yours.    “Good morning, youse!” Yancy chimed, eerily cheery for six in the morning.    “Good morning…” You grumbled, pulling the blankets back over your head. “We don’t have to be awake for another hour, Yance, why did you wake me up?”    “Oh,” He replied, “just wanted to say hi.” His voice wilted a bit as he slowly slid back down to his bunk to hide his blushing face. You hummed, stuffed your face back in your pillow, and went back to bed. BEEP   BEEP   BEEP   BEEP    “Fuck!” You cussed, scared shitless by the alarm. Yancy already stood by the cell door, dressed and ready for breakfast. He turned to look at you.    “Youse alright, lo- Y/N?”    “Yeah, I’m fine. Just jumped out of my skin from that dumb alarm.”    “Haha yeah,” Yancy chuckled. “It always gets ya when ya least ‘spect it.” You rolled your eyes as the door opened and you two were escorted to breakfast. Yancy glanced at you a couple times during the walk, his cheeks growing a pinkish hue every time. You swore you could pick out faint curved lines directly below his eyes, but it was hard to tell. Entering the dining room, you and your cellmate went to go sit down. You made it a point to sit next to him. The small glass windows were open today, and you could actually see through them. The sun hit Yancy’s eyes perfectly, creating the illusion of a small almond-colored halo in his eyes.    “Y’know, your eyes are actually kinda pretty.” You complimented as heat rose to your cheeks. Yancy, however, did something you had never seen him (or anyone else, really) do before: randomly grow tattoos. Now, a series of thickly outlined cartoon hearts stood proudly on his skin. You stared, bug-eyed at the odd situation. He raised an eyebrow at you.    “What, do I got somethin’ on my face?” You chuckled and scooted closer to him. You ran a thumb over his cheekbone to make sure they were real. He smiled like an idiot and the hearts grew a bit bigger. The skin below them was as pink as cotton candy.    “I hate to, uh, ruin the moment here, but… whatcha doing, Y/N?” Yancy questioned.    “Just looking at these random magical tattoos of yours.” He hummed and let you continue investigating. Soon he moved his hand, which had previously been awkwardly dangling between you two, to wrap around your shoulders protectively. He abandoned his lunch momentarily to press a small kiss to your forehead, a quick and seemingly impulsive act. Then smaller hearts spread to his arms and legs like freckles in the summertime.  You froze. Affection? That was new. You smiled and pressed your head into his shoulder, ignoring the scowling faces that glared upon you two. Other prisoners mumbled among themselves.    “Never thought he'd get a partner…”    “I know, it’s wild.” Another remarked. Yancy blushed and looked away for a moment, before returning his gaze to your own. He gently pressed his index finger to your nose with a light, “Boop.” Although, as shocking as it was to some, they forgot about it in only a few moments. One fight later, and they couldn’t care less anymore.

[wilfords-words]

super sorry for the wait on the Yancy tattoos fic!! things came up irl (extensive schoolwork, overtime at work, etc) so it may be another day or two! again, so sorry! :]

@inkeris (since u wanted to be tagged for the story lol)

[wilfords-words]

i swear I know how to edit guys

EDIT: IK IT HAS A DIF WATERMARK, THATS MY MAIN BLOG LMAO

[wilfords-words]

kiss me once, kiss me twice

ACCOMPANYING MUSIC: you're dreaming of a whimsical fairytale land & you're a hopeless romantic but in the 19th century | a playlist

SHIPS: DAMIEN X GN!Y/N NOTES: as a damien kinnie i know exactly how to write this ok

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You looked at yourself in the mirror. Your beautiful outfit, graced with an almond brown and white color scheme, was just the right amount of formal. Your shoes were shinier than ever- a glistening noir, elegantly contrasting the ballroom floor you had seen earlier. You hoped Damien would like it. Soft classical music played very faintly, worming its way into your ears and entrancing your mind. You knew it was from the other end of the castle, where the ball was meant to start in… you forgot how long. You checked outside. Oh dear! It was dusk already, the time at which the mayor had said the ball to be. You rushed out of your room, down the stairs, and through the hallways like a madman. The walls were very intricately carved, you stopped to notice. Each swirly pattern seemed to tell its own story, like that of love and trial and misfortune. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling in every other room- gorgeous as they were, you had somewhere to be. Following the sound of the symphony, you found your way to the grand door. The handles to the double doors were golden lion heads, browned and worn from age. Pressing your ear to the mahogany, you heard many voices, though none were distinguishable. You moved your ear from the door and moved your hand towards the brave lion heads. You grabbed one of the handles, turned it, and allowed it to swing open dramatically. And there he was. The Mayor, Damien, whom you had been flirting with for weeks. He looked gorgeous tonight, in a tuxedo with a very similar color palette to yours. He had gone with you to pick out your outfit for the ball, so you wondered if he had done it on purpose. He quickly turned his head from the gentleman he was talking to, peering over at you with a lovestruck expression. His eyebrows knitted together above wide, chestnut colored eyes. His mouth formed into a smile as he beckoned you over. You smiled, just in love as he was, and made your way over. Your shoes tapped on the floor, echoing throughout the mostly empty dance hall. When you stopped at his side, he wrapped an arm around you protectively and continued talking to the man, whom you assumed to be a mayor of a neighboring town. In roughly twenty minute’s time, the hall was at a comfortable, though not overwhelming capacity. Damien broke away from the man, saying something about ‘attending to duties’. He took your hand in his, locking eyes with you as he brought you to the center of the dance floor. Many stared. But did you really care? “May I have this dance?” He asked lightly, hand outstretched to you. It didn’t feel obligatory- he was genuinely asking. And this was a freedom you could rarely have. You smiled. Not just as a display, but with your whole heart. “Of course.” And so you danced. You wrapped your arms around his neck, his hands on your waist. so this is love “You look lovely tonight, Y/N.” Damien remarked, moving a hand from your waist to run his fingers through your hair. You felt butterflies in your stomach. “Thank you, dear.” You watched as he blushed. “You as well.” You looked into his eyes deeply. They practically glowed, beautiful orbs of chocolate and oak, with an enticing black hole of entrancement in the center. You didn’t notice your hand coming up to stroke his jawline until it was already there. His skin was so smooth, guarded by his light facial hair. It was heavenly, something you know you would now crave forever. Just to hold his face and admire him. His face got a bit closer, and snapping out of your daze, you took the hint, leaning in as well. Your face was a mere inch or two from his, and you could feel the body heat radiating off of him. “May I?” “You may.” Your lips connected, and you felt something you had never felt before. The butterflies in your stomach spiked, and you moved both of your hands to his face. He moved his hands to the back of your head, playing with the loose strands of hair. As you pulled away for air, you resumed your previous position with a giggle. Damien chuckled back, his voice like that of red velvet and warm french toast. You two went on like this for a while, dancing and kissing and complimenting each other until the amount of people in the ballroom grew slim. Once there were only a few other couples left, Damien opened his mouth to speak. “I’m sorry, Y/N, but I must be off in just a few minutes. Mayor things, you know.” He smiled. “One last dance?” You pressed. “Of course.”

[wilfords-words]

Blowing Off Some Steam

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Rating: T

Characters: Wilford, The Host, Dark (mentioned)

Warnings: Guns

Notes: idk what this is, but I’m proud of it :]

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Hot, hot tears streamed down Wilford’s face, embedding their salty selves in the grooves of his pores. His throat was rubbed raw, sore from screaming and sobbing at the wall. His bow tie was undone, and his hair was a tangled mess.

“They… lied to me..?” Wilford cried. His eyes glistened like fractured diamonds.

“No, no.”

He shuffled to the bathroom off of his room, and rested his shaky palms on the granite counter. He gritted his teeth at his reflection.

knock knock

He squared his jaw and readied his fist inches from the glass. He watched his hand as it shook with rage and sadness and shock. The air smelled like a sterile hospital room, and it was driving him insane. Everything was nowadays.

Knock Knock

“No. No!” Wilford laughed. He put his fist down.

And headed straight for his gun. He strode to his door and opened it with a creak.

Host stood there, arms crossed across his tan coat.

“Dark instructed the Host to come see what the ruckus was.”

“O-oh,” Wilford scoffed. “It was nothing. Just blowing off some steam is all.”

“If Wilford is certain.”

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[wilfords-words]

the challenge approaches. will you rise to it, or watch as all crumbles beneath you?