#I'm gonna be stuck in this body until i die

[cntloup]

intruders

husband!simon x wife!reader

i know im on a break but here's a lil smth hehe🤭🩷💫🌸

"get out through the backdoor!" Simon utters hurriedly, "and take this... just in case." he hands you the gun which he keeps under his pillow.

"i'm not gonna leave you!" you blurt out as you feel the tingle of tears behind your eyes, fearing the worst possible outcome.

"you have to! please just go! i'll take care of them!" he says in a hushed tone in order not to alert the intruders.

he reaches in his nightstand and grabs an envelope and hands it to you.

"here's all the information you need in case i'm gone." he says in a monotone manner, masking how he truly feels inside.

he's never put much value on his life, always focused to get the job done no matter the cost. until you appeared and swept him off his feet.

now he senses a churn in his stomach, utter fear gnawing at his heart, not for himself, but you. what would happen to you when he's gone?

you take the envelope with shaky hands, "simon, you mean...?" you ask, frightened out of your mind.

"yes. if i die, you'll know what to do." he responds, "please don't say that!" you plead, averting your gaze from him to hide your tears.

he embraces you tightly and kisses the crown of your head, "go!" he says and ushers you out of the bedroom, making sure the path is clear for you to head out back.

moments later, after throwing punches and slashing through flesh with sharply honed knives and bullets flying around, simon finds himself among five dead bodies and a pool of blood on the carpet.

just as he shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, he hears the sound of a gunshot.

he's startled and filled with anxiety as he steps outside to see what happened, finding himself praying for the first time in his life that it's not you.

only then, he meets your terrified figure, shaking and eyes widened in sheer shock.

his eyes land on the blood splattered all over your shirt and you notice his anxious eyes, "it's not mine!" you say breathily, chest heaving as adrenaline courses heavily through your body.

in an instant, he runs towards you and engulfs you in his strong arms while letting out a sigh of relief, "i thought i lost you!" he murmurs in your hair, "can't get rid of me that easily, babe!" you say back with a low chuckle, though still trembling.

"i'll call price to help with the mess." he says, guiding you inside the house with an arm draped over your shoulders as you're still stuck in a state of lingering shock.

-----

"you looked so fuckin' sexy in that moment with the gun in your hand and blood all over you!" he says with a smirk as you cuddle on the couch days after the incident.

"yeah? you liked that?" you ask with a playful smile as your glinting eyes meet his.

"i'm proud of you! my wife is such a badass!" he says, a soft smile adorning his scarred lips and pure adoration dancing in his eyes as he pulls you in for a sweet kiss.

[star-suh]

🎃SCREAM (my name)🎃

choi san x male reader

cw: college au, movie au(?), killer top san, y/n is trapped in a hole in the wall, dub-con, rimjob, degradation, spanking, creampie, breaking the 4th wall(?).

an: i was thinking about a way to porn-ify the scream movie then i remembered that scene from scary movie with the girl in the garage 😭 and i merge it with that stuck in the wall trope and boom this fic was born lmao. 

—

despite the murders that have recently occurred, the students of the kq university decide to have a party just because why not?.

“how the fuck are they so happy dancing and getting high on a party when there's a literal murderer on the campus?” wondered y/n in a low voice.

“the real question is how the fuck are you complaining about it while literally being in the party drinking a cup of vodka with fruit juice?” seonghwa stated.

“i don't know dude, slasher movie logic i guess?” he spoke while drinking the remaining liquid on his cup, “gonna go for more” he then walks away while seonghwa starts rubbing himself on someone.

“umm excuse me.. uh, isn't there more of this?” y/n signals the bowl that was filled with vodka before. “yes there are more but… it's in the basement. if you want more go down there and take all you want dude” the man pats y/n's shoulder and walks away. “are you fucking kidding me? this is giving scream for fuck's sake i'm gonna die” he screams internally, preparing to go and seek more of that delicious cocktail of vodka with fruits.

with each step down the stairs y/n plans a ton of ways to escape if the murderer happens to be there.. “helloo?. umm is someone down there?” his voice echoes in the dark room and not a single response “where is the light switch” he spoke while he illuminates the place with the flashlight of his cell phone.

finally he found the light switch and turn on the lights, showing that there was no one in there “i should stop being so paranoid”. y/n opens the refrigerator taking out the cans of his favorite liquor, he was entertained reading the flavors of each can that he didn't notice the basement door being closed by someone.

"what do we have here?" a deep and seductive voice echoes in y/n's ears, he turns around quickly, dropping all the cans. there he was, face to face with the masked killer. “i fucking knew it” he whispered grabbing all the cans and throwing them at the killer. “leave me alone you psycho, i haven't done anything bad in my life” y/n begs for his life as he looks for a way out. 

he suddenly remembers that this was mingi's house and there was a hole in one of the walls that they used to when they were in high school to sneak into the basement and drink mingi's father's liquor “good times” he murmurs running towards the hole. 

“where is it” he shouts scattering the objects around trying to find the hole, “why is he doing nothing” anxious, y/n pushed a large shelf finally found his way to salvation "see you in hell motherfucker" giving the middle finger to the murderer and immediately going through the hole squirming around. everything looked so good until y/n got trapped, only half of his body made it through the hole. “shit this can't be happening. fuck!... please don't harm me please” his prayers being silenced by the loud music of the party above.

he was already preparing to die when he felt a hand groping his ass "what the hell? don't touch me pervert". he began to discard y/n's pants and underwear, "perverted son of a bitch" could be heard on the other side of the wall, y/n started to move his legs trying to kick the murderer but the only thing he received was a hard spank that made his eyes water. 

the masked murderer started to rub his big bulge between y/n's ass cheeks, on the other side of the wall the guy was biting his lower lip so the other man can't hear his moans. “i shouldn't have put the cell phone in my pants pocke—hngh” suddenly he felt something wet on his rim making his eyes widen and his face turn red. on the other side the masked man was inserting his wet tongue in and out “what a tasty hole. gonna eat it until it's all gaping and gushy with my saliva”.

y/n's legs were trembling, the pleasure was immense something he haven't feel in months, “so goodd~”...

the ring of muscles was dripping with saliva “i can't get enough of this” says the masked pervert still eating y/n's ass out. on the other side y/n was a blushing, panting mess with hooded eyes and drool coming out of the corners of his mouth “please stop, i can't take it anymore..” 

“nuh-uh dude we are halfway done” the man spoke, spanking the ass 10 times, 5 to each ass cheek. he pulls out his cock and starts slapping it in the already wet hole making sinful noises that he loves to hear, watching how much pre-cum y/n's cock is leaking he puts his big cock under y/n's tip and smear it around  his own to use it as lube “you tell me to stop but you're body says otherwise.. look how much you're leaking slutty boy” he says that while shaking y/n's hard cock.

he slowly introduced his big dick, that delicious burning sensation of the stretch making y/n moan loudly lowkey enjoying it “so big~”.

“you're clenching so hard boy, do you love my cock that much?.just say you're my plaything and i give you more of this”. “no” cockdrunk y/n managed to say “i'm no one's..”. another hard spank landed on his ass “you're being a bad boy, i think you need to be punished”. the taller grabbed him by the legs locking them in his waist and started to rail the boy into oblivion, the thrusts were so hard producing a notorious recoil on y/n's ass.

“i'm gonna wreck you up, you hear me?. i'm gonna drenched you with my cum and pump you full like the useless cumdump you are”.

“yes, just use me to please your big cock i'm just a hole for you~” his fear completely gone and now being replaced by just horny thoughts of being fucked by that big dick.

wet, gushy sounds echoing throughout the basement while moans were doing the same on the other side of the wall, “look how much you're clenching on me, what a desperate whore”. the masked man feeling that sensation on his stomach started to stroke y/n's cock “let's cum together”, being stimulated by both sides it only made y/n cum quickly muttering a small “sorry” as he caught his breath. “bad boy, i told you to cum together with me” he does a last hard thrust and then pulls out his cock to jerk himself off on top of y/n's ruined hole.

lots of thick gooey sperm coming out of the masked man's tip, creaming y/n's hole “fuck you make me cum so much.. you're a really good milker” he expressed collecting all the cum with the tip of his cock and then inserting it into the dirty hole as deep as he can “would love if we repeat this again soon” the masked man snickers, while on the other side of the wall y/n fell asleep.

the next morning y/n woke up laying on the basement floor, the masked killer pulled him out of the hole without him realizing it, "what the hell happened last night" the boy wondered while touching his head because of the hangover he was feeling. he stood up and walked towards the basement door to get out of there without noticing the wet patch forming on the back of his pants. 

[sansaorgana]

Oh my God!!

"You talked in your sleep... do you really love me?"

With Buck Cleven X reader, please?? Maybe reader is his best friend and sometimes talks in her sleep? So, best friends to lovers?? Please you'd cure my depression 😭😍

Love you & thank you 💕

hiii I'm so sorry you had to wait so long 😭 does anyone even still remember me omg 😫 thank you for your request! I didn't use this exact quote but the situation is the same and The Reader is a nurse here 😷

my requests are currently closed 🙅🏻‍♀️

Working as a nurse and befriending some of these boys, you mostly dreaded the day when one of them would come to you in a state that was doomed. To stare at your dying friend in pain, knowing you can’t do anything about it… That was keeping you awake at night. It was already difficult enough already to witness the boys you didn’t know at all die like this and not be able to help. But a vision of one of your friends in this situation was impossible to handle at times.

The one you worried about the most was Major Gale Cleven, the one everyone kept calling Buck. But you were the only person who still was calling him Gale. He was your friend from the moment he showed up. Handsome, charming but in a quiet way, kind-hearted and very responsible. You admired the way he was with his boys; like an older brother they could look up to. And not long time had passed until you realised you were actually in love with him.

Of course you would never admit that. But it made you smile when the boys admitted you were their favourite nurse, when they were treating you like the female equivalent of Gale Cleven at the base. Almost as if you were playing house with him with a bunch of pilots who were like your sons.

But loving a pilot was a dangerous business for the heart. Not that love could have been prevented. You had no control over that. But at least it was unrequited – in other circumstances you would cry your heart out into your pillow at night for loving someone who didn’t reciprocate his feelings. But this time it was for the better.

Yet, when you found him in the med bay after one of the missions, your heart skipped a beat. Your friend was talking to him softly, his face was in blood. You approached them immediately, ignoring other patients waiting for your care and attention.

“What’s going on? What’s wrong?” You asked, trying to hide how nervous you were.

“His plane got hit,” your friend explained. “He managed to come back and land safely with a concussion, can you imagine?” The admiration in her voice made you feel jealous and you hated this side of you. She had every right to admire him for this sort of achievement. “I have to clean the wounds on his face. Poor lad, they’re gonna leave scars.”

“I’ll do it,” you dismissed her and moved past her, nearly pushing her away. She was surprised at your reaction but she didn’t have time to think about it or comment because other patients needed her.

So, she left you alone with Gale. His beautiful eyes were hazy from the concussion and probably a state of shock his body was in. He wouldn’t be able to fly a plane with a concussion if not for the adrenaline in his blood system.

“Hi,” you greeted him softly when you started to clean the wounds on his face gently. They were not very deep but they caused lots of bleeding and your friend was right; some of them would leave scars. Not that you minded, you only hoped he wouldn’t grow insecure because of them. “You’ve gained some scars, brave fly boy,” you chuckled nervously but he only looked at you like he didn’t recognise you. “It’s okay. You’ll sleep it off,” you caressed his hair gently. 

He was confused and in pain but yet, you hated yourself for kind of liking this version of Gale Cleven. Not only was he even more adorable than usual but also you could allow yourself the gestures you would never do if he was acting like himself.

When his face was clean and you washed some of his hair, too – the parts that got stuck together with blood, you laid him down gently and smiled softly at his handsome face. He reached his hand out as if he wanted you to hold it. An unusual thing to do, which made your heart flutter in your chest, but you tried to remember that he was not acting sane at the moment. Still, you gently took his hand and sat on the edge of the bed. You decided to be with him until he’d wake up. Even if it would be the whole rest of the day and a night.

“Other boys need you,” the doctor approached you with a furrowed brow.

“He needs me the most,” you looked up.

“Cleven had a slight concussion, he will be absolutely fine,” the doctor insisted.

You knew that he was right and you didn’t want to act suspicious, so you sighed and squeezed Gale’s hand before leaving his side to go back to work. However, you worked as fast as you could, not even talking to the boys you were taking care of, just focusing purely on your job. And when you were finished, you went back to Gale’s bed and sat on the edge to watch over him. He looked so peaceful when he slept.

His wounds still kept bleeding a little here and there so you continued to clean them once in a while. And in his sleep, he sometimes moved, so you were putting your hand on his forehead, trying to calm him down and make sure he didn’t have a fever. Bucky checked on him in the meantime.

“Thanks for taking care of him,” he winked at you and you could feel your cheeks heating up. Did he know…? Were you that obvious?

“It’s nothing. He always takes care of all of you boys. I can see that and they always tell me that. Even today, the guys from his fort were asking me to take extra care of Major Cleven,” I answered with all honesty.

“Yeah, they look up to him. What he did today was… incredible,” Bucky nodded. “When they landed, he didn’t even recognise me but a few minutes earlier he had been flying the goddamn plane in this state.”

“It was shock and adrenaline,” you explained. “He could have forgotten us but not how to survive and fly,” you added with a smile. “Or he’s a natural. Maybe he was born and already knew how to fly.”

“Believe me, he didn’t,” Bucky chuckled and shook his head. “I remember our early days… He didn’t.”

“Okay,” you giggled and squeezed Gale’s hand tighter. You imagined what he had to be like in the early days of his training. He had to be adorable; a bit scared but also full of hope and optimism, that boyish excitement. “Thanks for checking up on him. When he wakes up, I’ll tell him you came.”

“If he recognises us,” Bucky made a joke and walked out of the med bay but it left you anxious now. He was right. The doctor had said it was a slight concussion but… What if Gale would wake up and not recognise any of you?

Lost in thoughts, you didn’t realise he was having a dream again. You only reacted when he started to mumble some incoherent things.

“Shh, Gale, shh, it’s fine,” you whispered softly when you leaned in to see his face better and put both of your hands on his wounded cheeks, delicately, avoiding to cause him any further pain.

“...Her…” He mumbled, his words suddenly making sense. You furrowed your brow. “I love her.”

You swallowed thickly at those words. It was only a dream, right? It didn’t mean anything. He couldn’t be in love with someone else…? 

You shook it off. What were you even thinking of? What did it matter? You were not together and you would never be.

But then, Gale mumbled your name. Yours, not anyone else’s. You had to blink a few times and catch your breath all over again. And when you thought it had all been a mistake, he mumbled it out again and and again and then…

“I love her,” he repeated.

However, he seemed to be in a great torment because of whatever the dream was about. So, with a heavy heart, you shook his shoulders a little, forcing him to come back to reality.

“Hi,” you greeted him softly as his eyes widened. “Welcome back, soldier. Do you know where you are?”

“Wh-what happened?” He sat up rapidly, his hands immediately going to his face as if he wanted to check if everything was in its place.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” You asked, adjusting yourself on the edge of his bed to be closer to him.

“We got hit… Oh my God… We got hit!” He panicked but you shushed him. Other boys were asleep and you didn’t want them to wake up or be alarmed by his attack.

“It’s fine, hey, Gale, it’s okay. Everyone from your fort is fine and you know why…?” You asked with a gentle smile. He shook his head. “Because you safely took them home and landed that goddamn plane even though you had concussion and didn’t know your own name,” you tried to sound casual but the pride in your voice was more than obvious.

“I… I did that?” He asked. “No way.”

“Yeah, you did,” you laughed. “And I cleaned your face, it was all bloody. You’re gonna have some scars,” you explained. “Want a mirror?”

“I don’t think so,” Gale winced as his fingertips traced the wounds. He hissed out of pain so you grabbed his wrists and took the hands away from his face.

“Don’t. They’re still fresh. But not so bad, I’ve seen worse,” you tried to cheer him up. “In fact, I think, you’re gonna look amazing,” you winked and he sighed. “You remember me, right?”

“What? What are you talking about? Of course I do,” he furrowed his brows as his eyes looked worried.

“Yeah, but after you landed, you didn’t. You didn’t even know who Bucky was. He was here, you know. Checking on you. And all the boys from your fort were so worried about you. You’re a real leader,” you squeezed his hands but he didn’t say anything to these things. Praises were making him blush and he did now as well, looking away.

“Well, thanks for taking care of me,” he finally looked at you again.

“No problem. You wanted me to stay, reaching your hands out like a little boy,” you chuckled nervously. Perhaps it was a bad idea to bring this up.

“Yeah, well, I had to feel lonely when I couldn’t recognise anyone. Even when I can, I often feel lonely,” he admitted with a shrug of his arms. “We’re so far away from home, from our families. The boys are like family, too, but every day can be their last. And men… Well, we don’t really…” He tried to look for words.

“Hold each other’s hands?” You asked and he nodded. You squeezed his hands again. “You talked in your sleep,” you brought that up, encouraged by his last confession.

“Oh dear God…” Gale rolled his eyes, visibly embarrassed. “What about?”

“You were talking about some girl that you love,” you teased him, grinning and winking playfully, pretending to be a teasing friend and hiding the nervousness. “She happens to have the same name as me or something.”

You expected him to be defensive or laugh at you. You would push his shoulder gently and tell him that you had been joking. But he didn’t react like that at all. In fact, he took his hands away as if your touch burnt him and he cleared his throat nervously.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Can we… Can we pretend you’ve never heard that?”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You kept staring at him in disbelief and bit on your lower lip.

“How?” You asked, feeling a sudden outburst of bravery in you. If Gale could have flown a plane with a concussion, you could say what you wanted to say. “How am I supposed to pretend I have never heard that? When that’s… That’s all I ever wanted to hear.”

Gale looked up at you as if he had to check with his own eyes if you weren’t joking. But you were dead serious.

“So don’t pretend,” he finally spoke up and reached out for your hand again. His fingers were cold and shaky. You intertwined them with yours. “But I didn’t want to do anything until… Well, I planned to ask you to dance with me at the party after my 25th mission. But I never wanted to let you know before that because if I died…”

“If you died, I would never know,” you looked up to meet his gaze with tears pricking your eyes. “And you think that’s fair? You think it would make it easier for me? It would not.”

“I’m sorry,” Gale swallowed thickly. “Are you angry with me?”

“For that? No. For nearly dying today? Yes,” you nodded and wiped your tears away with your free hand.

“Let’s make a deal,” he proposed, looking at you with pain in his eyes. He hated to see you so sad and crying… Especially when it was caused by him. “Let’s not… Let’s not do anything about it until I’ve done my missions, alright?”

“Alright,” you nodded through the tears. “But… What if you don’t finish them…?”

“Well, then, we’re both gonna die without ever kissing each other,” he lowered his voice even though all the other nurses were out of the med bay and other patients were asleep. “But… That doesn’t sound right to me.”

“That doesn’t sound right to me either,” you admitted.

“Then come here,” he encouraged you to get closer. “Just one kiss.”

“A promise of many more, I hope. Not the last one,” you said in a shaky voice but he only nodded his head because that was a promise he couldn’t make.

If it depended on him, he would. He would swear on everything. But it depended on things much bigger than you or him. On things he couldn’t control nor prevent.

He cupped your face delicately, as if it were you with the wounds on your cheeks, and he joined your lips in a sweet kiss, even though it tasted salty from all your tears.

“Just don’t die,” you breathed out when the kiss ended. “Just don’t die and the rest I can fix and endure.”

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[wonton4rang]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Super shy ¡!

pairing: riwoo x reader.

warnings: +18, smut. pet names, edging, humping, usage of riwoo's real name, sanghyeok.

summary: where riwoo is the pretty nerd you've got stuck with to make a project but what you didn't know is that he might not be as innocent and shy as he seemed to be.

note: i've been devastated since that video of bnd dropped and i saw riwoo, i have a MASSIVE crush on him omg 😭 i'm so sorry to anyone and everyone that doesn't knows this look on him 😔 pd. (update: 06/17) if you see any typos, no, you didn't <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you were never the type to be too talkative, you had your own space and didn't like to go out, your homework was up to date even if you didn't like to study and you had very few to none friends. you were surviving high school, to be honest.

but there was always someone that was worst than you, in this case, it was sanghyeok. he was the catalogued nerd of the class, his prescription glasses always on his nose bridge while his face got covered by some science book. he was even more quiet than you were, he had a single friend (donghyun) and you have never seen him at any place outside of school.

when you saw him for the first time, he was laughing with his best friend over god knows what, his smile being so gorgeous that you couldn't help but stare; the way his brown hair was done flawlessly and it dropped the perfect amount of hair to adorn his face. he looked so cute with those huge glasses and that soft hoodie, not the mention the lovely smell that he had when you walked pass him.

you immediately got a passenger crush on him.

it wasn't like you would die for him or anything but seeing him everyday made your own day a little better, he made your chest clench and your heart feel soft and joyful when he laughed, which didn't happen very often.

he was just so cute.

so when you got assigned that chemistry project and you both got together at his place to do it, you couldn't help the subtle blush that spread through your cheeks when you arrived at his door and knocked, him opening almost right away and giving you that smile that you liked so much.

"hey, come inside" he signalled when he moved from the frame, you entering the place almost instantly, checking around before you heard the door close and sanghyeok appeared in front of you "donghyun-ah it's not here today so it'll just be us, hope you don't mind...?"

"that's okay" you assured with a small smile, adoring the doubt on his voice when he talked to you. so pretty. "i didn't know you guys lived together"

"yeah, it's cheaper than living by yourself on campus, rent is for the elite at this point" you nodded while you followed his steps to the second floor, he was right. "but how are you doing? are you ready for today?"

"i hate chemistry, sanghyeok-ssi" was all you let out, not even noticing when you both got to his room until that familiar perfume filled your nostrils and made you look around "we're gonna do it here?"

"do you mind? i have most of my stuff here and he doesn't want any-"

"that's okay" sanghyeok just looked at you through his glasses, smirking a little bit before closing the door "so... um, where do we start?"

"why don't we start from the beginning?" he suddenly asked and it made you tilt your head in confusion "why don't you tell me since when do you like me?"

what the fuck.

you stayed silent for a second, frowning your eyebrows and holding your backpack laces tighter, taking a step back when he took one forward to you.

"why aren't you saying anything? i thought you loved to talk"

"sanghyeok, what is this?"

"you look really pretty in a skirt, y/n" was all he said back, finally taking a long step and closing the distance between your bodies, holding your waist with a firm grip and making you stumble back when he leaned forward to smell your neck "i also like your perfume, by the way"

"y-you... you know?" all the shame in the world belonged to you right now, your hands sweating against your backpack's strings and your legs trembling, not to mention the aggressive blush that flushed your cheeks. "i'm- i-"

"can i kiss you?" and that's when you knew that he was not interested in any project, that he didn't invite you over for that.

but it was so weird, so out of place, you even thought that you may be misreading the situation (if that was even possible), even when his hands gripped your waist firmly, his eyes staring into yours and his breath hitching when he got closer to your mouth.

there's no way this is sanghyeok, not the one you know, at least. this is not the shy boy that would look away if your eyes ever meet, the small and soft baby boy that used sweater paws. it just doesn't make sense to you.

where was his soft demeanor, his glittery eyes, his way of talking so calmed. it was all a lie? no, it wasn't, you just didn't know sanghyeok as a lover.

at least not until now.

"are you still thinking?" his voice brought you back, your hands loosening the grip on your backpack and going up to his chest, staring into his eyes.

"yes, you can kiss m-"

he didn't even wait for you to finish when his lips crashed against yours. he had been waiting for it long enough to waste another second. so he didn't.

his hands went up to remove your backpack and drop it to the ground, his lips devouring yours in such a way that it made your legs feel weak, your own hands now holding his shoulders.

when you felt his body press against yours, you softly moaned, applying pressure on his shoulders and smiling into the kiss when he took the chance to get his tongue into your mouth, playing with your sanity when his right knee pressed against your clothed pussy and he made some friction.

everything was so good that you didn't notice the way your back was flat in the wall behind you, your right leg being held up on sanghyeok's hip and his hands slowly rising up and down on what you skirt covered and what it didn't too.

"wait, sanghyeok-ssi" you managed to whisper against the kiss, pulling out to look at his face. his hair slightly misplaced and his glasses were fogged up with your breath. he looked so cute yet so hot. "what do you want to do?"

"i-" suddenly it seemed like his shy self came back, his throat not being able to form a correct sentence and his hands shaking against your skin. you laughed a little. "don't laugh at me"

"you look so cute"

"i don't want to be cute" his voice sounded mad but still cute so you just nodded and gave him a short kiss, petting his hair before looking into his eyes while expecting an answer; still feeling his hand holding your leg up when he pressed his pelvis against your clothed cunt, making you feel what he had been hiding "i want to have sex with you"

"that's really straightforward, don't you think?" but you were joking, you did not gave a single fuck if it was too straightforward or not, you would've gave in ten minutes ago if he asked you.

"you don't want to?" the way he asked you made your pussy throbb, he looked and sounded so offended that it was almost laughable but you just found it hot.

"i didn't say that but-"

"then why are we wasting time?" he interrupted, letting your leg go and quickly petting your hair, softly going down until his fingers grazed your cheek and then moved to your lips, playing with the bottom one for a bit before continuing saying "donghyun will not be out forever"

and so you understood what he meant right away, taking his face between your hands to kiss him again, this time you were the one walking and making him back up until the back of his knees hit the bed and he fell there. there was a fraction of second in the one you both looked at each other and it was so hot that you could only get in top of him and keep making out.

your hands held his face and your lips moved furiously against his, your hips starting to grind on his boner and him softly moaning into the kiss when he felt the friction, automatically buckling his hips up to meet your core.

it only got worse when you started to move faster and harder, wanting to feel as much as you could because his dick felt so good between your wet clothed folds that you just couldn't help it. your eyes were closed during the kiss but when his hands held your hips and started to make pressure there you had to break the kiss to moan pleasantly, your mind so cloudy and your breath speeding up while you looked him in the eyes.

he looked so cute, his eyes watery and his cheeks flushed, the hair slowly starting to stick to his forehead due to the sweat. your hands moved to his chest and you thought you'll go crazy when sanghyeok's hands went below your skirt and held your ass instead, harshly pressing on the skin and pressing his eyes closed when his hips got sloppy.

"i like this, it's really nice" you heard him say in an airy voice, feeling how his heart pace increased with every movement he made. "you feel so good"

but you couldn't really answer anything because you felt so ashamed right now, your own eyes watery and your legs shaking while the movement of your hips didn't stop.

it felt so good though, and you couldn't understand why, you were not a virgin, this was not the first time you humped with some dude but why did it made you feel so overwhelmed? the way your eyes couldn't stop seeing his face, the way his mouth moved, the way his moans sounded, it all should've gave you the idea.

you liked him.

the thought slipped out your head though when you felt your body switch positions, riwoo being in top of you now and holding your stare as he has never been able to do so before. his hands held the back of your thighs and soon he was pressing against your wet panties again but this time he actually did it very slowly, almost painful due to the necessity you were feeling.

"can i-" he started but his voice broke mid sentence as he kept moving against your pussy, he just couldn't stop, it's like he was possessed. "can i fuck you, please? just this time, if you don't like it we can-"

"please do" was all you let out, your hands holding his own hands to ensure that you were positive about this. "i would love to"

sanghyeok was a simple man, and a prepared one too, because the second you said yes he was already reaching for the drawer next to his bed and pulling out a condom that he struggled to open.

you took it and opened it for him, he took the chance to lower his pants instead and move your panties aside while his stare was fixed in your eyes, looking for any signs of discomfort in case he had to retract. he moved forward as he saw none and just licked his middle and anular finger before pushing them pass your wet folds, up and down your pussy before actually entering them in your warm hole.

he was amazed with the way your cunt sucked his fingers, so warm, so wet, so perfect. so when you handed over the condom already opened, he didn't waste time to put it on and instantly align his cock with your entrance.

"can i?" you nodded and he was pushing through right away, doing it slowly in case he had to stop, he just didn't want to hurt you. "all good?"

"you can go on, i'll let you know if anything"

and that gave him the green light he was looking for, slamming his hips against yours when he pushed all the way in, feeling your hips twitch but no hearing a word from you so he just did it again, thrusting so hard you could feel his dick brushing your cervix.

that warm feeling around his dick, the wetness, the sounds, and the way you squirmed under his touch made him even harder than he already was. one of his hands holding your waist and the other one going for your left boob and playing with it below your white dress shirt.

his lips soon found their place in your neck, starting to undo the buttons of your shirt so he could have more space to suck and kiss. and you didn't even protest to the hickies he was leaving there because, to be honest, you doubted he even knew those were going to appear later on.

plus, you were too busy thinking about his dick smashing your pussy to say anything. your walls welcoming him so well, you feeling the stretch and the way his thrusts got sloppy.

you could feel his breath accelerating against the skin of your neck, his moans sounding more high pitched and his body weight dropping onto yours, his glasses falling off his face when he finally left the crook of your neck to look at you in the eye.

"are you cumming?" you asked him, your hands holding his against your thighs and seeing him nod. you were not a person with a high libido but the way sanghyeok looked, so cute and innocent yet being able to fuck you so well while sweetly moaning got you going. "i am too"

"i'm really close, y/n, s-so close" he mumbled, barely seeing your face without his glasses. "it feels so good to be inside of you, oh god"

but the moment he kept saying those things with his sweet voice and dreamy eyes, you couldn't hold it back. you wanted to make him cum first but your plan shattered with his cute face and soft eyes while he fucked you good.

it was too much to handle, too much to process.

so you just let yourself go and finally buckled your hips up a little bit to meet his and cum with a soft mewl, your right hand going down to massage your throbbing clit while sanghyeok opened up his eyes after he felt your body shake beneath him.

he really didn't get it until he felt your pussy clench around his dick and saw your legs shaking on each side of his body as he kept fucking you fast enough to keep your orgasm alive for longer than you could take it.

which made you decide that it was time for him to cum, reaching to his shirt with your free hand and pulling him down to kiss his lips. you knew what it did to him. because two could play the game, right?

it didn't take him ten seconds to cum after you started kissing, inevitably letting a broken moan into his mouth when he finished with two harsh thrusts that made your body hitch in the bed.

he cried out during the kiss, cupping your face when he stopped moving his hips and making the kiss deeper, using his tongue right away and you laughing a little bit when you felt him looking for his glasses around your neck without breaking the kiss.

once he found them he left the kiss to put them on and finally pull out, being careful to not spill the condom inside of you and getting off his bed to trash it.

you were already sitting on the edge of his bed when he came back, panties back in place and skirt and shirt perfectly placed. even your hair looked fine, making sanghyeok question if you guys really had sex just a few moments ago.

"that was great, sanghyeok, i-" you mumbled when he sat down besides you on his own bed, making you nervous all of the sudden "i really enjoyed"

"i liked it too... do you think we can... you know... do this again?" but your face made him panic for a second, adding a simple: "if you don't mind, of course"

but that was precisely the problem, you did mind. you were surprised by the way a simple crush became something bigger without you even noticing.

"i don't think we should keep seeing each other like this" honesty was your way to go at this point "it's not you, i just feel like i could catch feelings and i kinda like you so-"

"wait, what?"

"i mean, you don't have to do anything, i was just giving you my reasons and-" you were the one who panicked this time with the tone he used to respond, your nervousness getting worse when he interrupted you again.

"i want to do something about it, though. i kinda like you too"

"you what!?"

"yeah, i liked you since the first day i saw you at school. i thought you were really pretty and then we got to share classes and i got to see you more everyday and see how you acted and... i really like you, actually" he said with a shy smile before adding "i am so sorry i didn't say it before i just thought that maybe you didn't see me that way"

"you are so smart yet so fucking dumb sometimes, you know that, right?"

and both of you just laughed, kissing a little bit more and cuddling in sanghyeok's bed to talk about yourselves, what you liked, what you didn't, your point of view about certain topics and so on.

now imagine the surprise in donghyun's face when he got home and went to sanghyeok's room just to find you both cuddling and pleasantly sleeping in each others arms.

"finally" was all he mumbled before going to his own room.

he was so tired of listening to sanghyeok talking about you that he could only feel happy yet scared. happy because now you guys were together but scared because if sanghyeok was a simp without even dating you... imagine now.

but, oh, well. shit happens, it is what it is.

[kaciidubs]

A Pun-y Thanksgiving

❣ Summary: A random thought about Chan and terrible Thanksgiving puns. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 739 ❣ Warnings: Fluff, corny puns [2], slice of life, discussions of family, implied Black! Reader [but neutral overall], Chan gets emotional over being loved ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris, Christopher, Channie, and Baby, lightly edited, that plate of food was not mine but it's close enough ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

"I'll give you more than thanks tonight."

"Baby, please."

"A turkey isn't the only thing I'd like to stuff."

"Christopher, walk away from me."

"What?! You can't tell me that wasn't funny!"

"I can," you hummed, looking over your shoulder to see him leaning against the kitchen island with a cheesy grin, "and I will - that was not funny!"

"So why are you smiling?" He goaded, dimple pressing into his cheek as his grin grew.

An astonished laugh fell from your lips, though you couldn't reign in the smile that stuck to your face, "Because you're corny!"

"Or, because you did find it funny!"

"Oh my god." Turning back to the pot of boiling elbow noodles, you stirred away some of the foam, "You're gonna drive me insane before my own family does."

A pair of arms snaked their way around your waist, Chris tugging you slightly against his chest as he pressed the side of his face against yours. "You know you love me."

"I do, but if you say anything related to 'gravy', I'm leaving you here and telling my grandmother you couldn't make it to dinner."

He dramatically gasped, shaking his body with yours, "You wouldn't! I think I'll actually die without her yams this year, and Christmas is way too far away to have them again!"

You laughed, turning off the stove and grabbing the oven mitts that were on standby, "You're so whipped for her cooking - I'm surprised you haven't figured out she makes extra just for you."

"She does?" His hold on you slipped as you picked up the pot of macaroni, stepping back to let you pour it into the strainer waiting in the sink. "Since when?"

"Our second Thanksgiving together when I had to make a to-go container full of them alone, and she asked if I was making you a plate and I had to tell her that, that was your plate." You placed the empty pot back on the stove, "And I still think it's unfair because I'm her grandchild! I asked her so many times to make me a separate batch, I'd even buy her the stuff! But no, she wouldn't do it for me but anything goes for her grandson Chris!"

In the midst of your teasing rant, you hadn't noticed the silence from your boyfriend behind you until you had started the sauce mixture for the macaroni and cheese, urging you to turn around to look at him suspiciously.

"Chris?"

He gazed at you with soft eyes, an almost delicate pout set on his lips as a fine blush turned his ears red. "She likes me that much?"

Family had always been a huge factor for him, and the desire of having your entire family love him the way they loved you was something he had strived for since the first time they met. So, it was no surprise that hearing that your grandmother would go out of her way for him and his admiration for her cooking made his heart swell.

"Aw, Channie," you cooed, turning the stove to low before making quick steps over to him, your hands cupping his slightly puffed cheeks from rest. "She absolutely loves you - my whole family does! My aunts ask about you whenever they call, my younger cousins always ask to see you, and even though my uncles joke about putting you in a shallow ditch if you break my heart - they can see how much you care about me and they honestly look forward to having you around."

Guiding his head down, you placed a quick kiss on his lips, giggling when he followed you away to steal another.

"My family loves you, my extended family loves you, and you already know I love you."

His pout melted into a smile, one you embarrassingly missed for the few moments it was gone, "Even with my corny jokes?"

You rolled your eyes but nodded in agreement, "Even with your corny jokes. Now, help me finish the mac and cheese and we can start getting ready - I'm sure if we stay here longer we're gonna be the last ones to get a plate, and I'll be damned if I let my cousin get to the corn pudding first."

Slinking your way our of his arms, you took to stirring the sauce mixture before speaking over your shoulder;

"Then when we get home, I'll show you what else I'm thankful for."

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @goblinracha, @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @happilydeepestwonderland, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @instabull, @maximumkillshot, @bandolls, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @sunnyhonie, @specialstay, @broken-glowsticks, @s00buwu, @all4innie, @dancerachaslut, @junglyric

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

[the-californicationist]

Guile & Guilt (Ch. 07)

Soap/Reader

TW: sex

MDNI/18+

AO3 LINK

I'm so sorry for the wait!! I hope this long chap made up for it. I really appreciate all the comments and reblogs. It really keeps me going. The next chapter is gonna be rough. Hope you're ready for it. I'm not!

CHRISTMAS EVE

The lecture hall slowly began to fill with graduate students and professors. A gaggle of undergrads huddled to the side with their notebooks, surely attending by someone else’s command and not of their own volition. They were all dressed in various layers of warmth. Anoraks and sweaters rustled and stretched in the cloth seats, the odd peacoat was hung carefully over the edge of a chair. It was nice to have a small crowd, but you were sure everyone had somewhere better to be. The only people that would show up to the long-standing tradition of a Christmas Eve colloquium were the die-hard academics and those desperately needing extra credit in their year-long lab classes.

You liked this lecture room the best. The big arching stadium seating made you feel like a surgeon in her theatre, carving up your poems and displaying their abnormalities, arguing in favor of their spectacular forms, illustrating your skills with grace and ease. It was all well and good not to be the patient on the table. Today’s victim would be Sonnet 91. 

The projector light blinded you in an unnatural blue, making you turn away from its lens, and you pretended to busy yourself with your notes as you waited for it to warm up. You shuffled the papers again, and you had a sip of water. Just fidgeting. If you stopped moving, you’d think about him, and you didn’t want to think about him. 

He’d gotten your message from Gaz, that much was clear. You knew because you started receiving sunrise texts again — just the pictures, though — and when he needed to go out on a mission, you’d get your little promises. You sent him back what you received. If he sent a sunrise picture, you returned it with your own. If he said that he promised, you said it, too. You wanted him to call. You wanted to drag it out, to gut it like a fish, to see all the entrails of your feelings and the bloody evidence of your battle to be together, all of its innards smeared across a cutting board, sterile and measurable. 

But, for some reason, you couldn’t do it. You tried to type out what you’d wanted to say, but none of it made sense. It was all just begging and pleading and wishing for things you couldn’t have. So, you stopped. You kept up the replies. You matched his energy. It wasn’t until he sent you a screenshot of his flight itinerary that you started to realize the other shoe was dropping on you very soon. 

He was supposed to fly in sometime this very afternoon, but it wouldn’t be only him. You’d heard from Pidge that his whole team was coming with him, eager to meet her and Hamish, apparently. You didn’t know what emotion you felt about that, but its anonymity didn’t stop you from feeling it. 

You’d sent him back a Google Maps screenshot of your apartment, since he was supposed to be your ride up to Old Kilpatrick, and he sent you back the thumbs up emoji. 

It was embarrassing to you that the slight change in send-reply patterning made your heart race. You felt like your brain could benefit from a hard reset, like an iPhone that had chosen to get stuck on the same application, unable to move forward to the next task. 

So, you’d tried to put him out of your mind. When your labmate begged you to take her place at this colloquium, you jumped at the chance. A presentation would take up so much time and energy; surely it would cure you of your obsessive behavior. Unfortunately, Sonnet 91 felt all too timely. 

You watched it populate the screen, the first four lines occupying the cold, unembellished center of your slide, professionally stark:  

Some glory in their birth, some in their skill,Some in their wealth, some in their body's force,Some in their garments though new-fangled ill;Some in their hawks and hounds, some in their horse;

You wondered where your glory would come from, if you ever had any. Then, as if to answer your question, the hall door opened and he walked through it, carefully propping it open behind him and letting his three enormous friends through. Johnny was freshly shaven, and his mohawk was back, trimmed on the sides and groomed to stand in a tall, brown shock. You could see the prominent scar on the side of his head, a sharp cross where the hair could no longer grow. 

There was an observable air of confidence to his movements, as if this was his hundredth colloquium, as if he attended them every week. His surety silenced you, and you stood staring, rapt. 

He met your eyes. The bright, glassy blues found you, set in a pleased way, fully at peace. It was the face made when something lost had been found, when a gift was unwrapped. A knowing gleam. 

If you didn’t start talking, people were going to ask you if you were alright. So, you introduced yourself, shakily but smoothing it out as you went,

“Good evening, and thank you for joining us at the 2023 Christmas Eve Colloquium tonight. I love this tradition, and I really appreciate you all being here. If you didn’t get the, uh… the handouts,” you pushed the stack across the desk toward the undergrads who all crowded around them like seagulls with an old French fry, “Okay...”

You pointed up to the sprawling slide,

“In looking at Sonnet 91, most would argue that it is a confession of love. But, it is a tentative one, at best. The speaker claims that despite whatever glory others may have, his glory is found in his lover. We don’t learn until the couplet that his affections are at risk of not being returned.”

You flipped the slide, showing the next four lines:

And every humour hath his adjunct pleasure,Wherein it finds a joy above the rest:But these particulars are not my measure,All these I better in one general best.

It was all very simple. This was an easy sonnet, and there was no real mystery, but as you came to the end, you tried to reiterate your thoughts quickly, feeling the pressure to let people get on with their lives,

“The speaker makes quite a substantial claim here, so much so that the audience may be led to believe that he is being intentionally facetious, especially if one were to consider the content of Sonnet 92.”

“No,” a deep voice from high in the back protested, “I mean, I think I disagree with you, lass.”

The whole room woke up. Everyone turned quietly in their seats, generating a symphony of creaking and rustling of chairs and coats, craning their necks to look at Johnny who, for some reason, had stood up in his aisle.

“Oh, how so?” You said politely, trying to be deferential. 

It was more than a little uncomfortable in the room. No one ever asked questions during the colloquium, even though that was its intended purpose, and certainly no one ever stood up when they asked it. Everyone usually just allowed the speaker to drone on and on about whatever topic they were into that week, and there would be polite applause at the end so you could all go home early. Ironically, Johnny had committed an act of rebellion a mere five minutes into your talk. 

“Well,” he crossed his huge arms over his chest, shoving his muscles against each other. Amongst the mostly lithe, soft-bodied academic crowd, he and his friends looked out of place. He raised his voice, sending it arching down to you like an arrow, “I’m pretty sure he’s genuine. Look at the next four lines.”

He pointed to the glowing screen. You sighed, flipping slides.

Thy love is better than high birth to me,Richer than wealth, prouder than garments' cost,Of more delight than hawks and horses be;And having thee, of all men's pride I boast:

“Look, bonnie,” Johnny chuckled, “I dunno about you, but if I’m boastin’ about a wee hen who’s more than all that — more than wealth, more than all men’s pride? She must actually be somethin’ to boast about.”

You countered, trying to get the talk back under your control, flipping to the next slide: 

Wretched in this alone, that thou mayst takeAll this away, and me most wretched make.

“Then what of his lamentation in the couplet?” You asked pointedly, listening to the sounds of creaking chairs again as everyone turned back to look at you as you responded, “Surely he has some reason to doubt this uniquely prideful love.”

Johnny shrugged,

“He doesnae doubt the love; his life cannae be separated from his love. Love is all there is. Ye ken it from Sonnet 92 when he asks: But what’s so blessed-fair that knows no blot?”

You smiled, slowly, knowingly, and then finished the couplet for him,

“Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.”

You were aware of the implication you were wielding like a knife down there in your theatre, staining your hands and hurling your scalpel at him, accusing him through verse of the same sin you’d thrown in his face the last time you spoke to him: of being false, of betraying Pidge. 

Johnny shifted his weight, frustrated, but standing his ground,

“It’s not… he doesnae think it’s false, hen. Tha’s not it.”

Were you still arguing about the poem? You couldn’t tell. His face had become serious and a little pleading. So, you responded in verse since it would fit the conversation either way, 

“How like Eve’s apple doth thy beauty grow, if thy sweet virtue answer not thy show.”

“And I would bloody eat it anyway, thief. False or no.”

There was an awkward silence and then a short, if a bit unsettled, polite applause. People began to shuffle out, standing, stretching, and chatting with each other as they made their way back into the hallway. A few of your labmates waved at you, and a friend from your cohort wished you a happy Christmas. 

Johnny sauntered down the stairs toward you, leaving his friends lounging in their seats, and as he came closer and closer, you felt like you were the one on the slab of your own theatre, open and vulnerable to the empty room, fully at the mercy of your operator. 

You thought he might pause, that he may stop walking and stand a few paces away, ready to talk things out, but he didn’t. He didn’t even slow his pace. Johnny grabbed you around your jaw with his enormous hand, his wide palm hot against your chin, and he pulled you into him, your lips sliding into his, pressing together like the last piece of a puzzle, completing a picture. 

His body was so warm as you crashed into his arms, and he held you down, pinning you like you would fall away from him if he let go. You couldn’t do much else other than submit to his strength; you didn’t want to do much else. You grabbed him around his waist, feeling him through the thin cotton of his shirt, tumbling into him as he forced your mouth to take his tongue. 

Johnny let go of a low moan, a sigh that couldn’t escape, and the hand that had been holding your face was now fisting your hair and running thick fingers through your soft strands. 

He pulled back without warning, gasping as he whispered to you, speaking with his forehead resting on yours and his eyes pinched closed,

“Did you mean it, what you told Gaz? Am I right? Is this right?”

You took a deep breath, smelling his soap and his cologne, the scent of his skin so familiar to you it seemed like home. His eyes remained closed, and he wore a mask of pain, holding himself back from truly letting go. You nodded, whispering back to him,

“You were right.”

Then, his eyes shot open, finding yours immediately, looking back and forth to peer into both of them at once, searching for even the slightest hint of deception,

“Are you fallin’ for me, mèirleach? ‘Cause I’m… I cannae go halfway. I’m in, or I’m out.”

“I’m in,” you smiled, laughing a little at your confession. He kissed you again, softly petting your hair, holding you close. But, you paused and looked up at him with a warning glare in your eye, “But, look, she cannot know. Maybe after the wedding, but… she cannot find out.”

“She won’t,” he was smiling back at you, making it look like it would be on his face forever, “I’m a professional spy, lass, or did you forget my wee entourage back there.”

He nodded up to his friends. The captain was asleep with his hat over his eyes, snoring in long, regular rhythms. Ghost was using a datapad, staring intently at the screen, and Gaz was using two hands on his cell phone, tapping vigorously, engrossed in some sort of game.

Johnny whistled, quick and shrill. The men stirred, peering down at him and making their way toward you. When they reached the bottom, they all towered over you, ready for polite introductions.

“John,” the scruffy, bearded one shook your hand first. His fingers were dangerously strong, and it shocked you to feel it against your own palm.

A young man was next. You knew it was Gaz, but you hadn’t seen a photo of him yet.

“I’m Kyle,” he smiled. He was even nicer in person, “We texted, before.”

You nodded, smiling back, and introducing yourself.

Then, it was the big one.

“Simon,” the tall blond shook your hand for a brief moment, just enough to squeeze and release. 

“It’s really nice to meet you all,” you said, “I’m glad you made it for the holiday.”

“We try to stick together ‘round this time of year,” Price explained, but you weren’t sure you fully understood his meaning. You just smiled and nodded. 

“You ready to head out?” Johnny asked you.

“Yeah, just need to head back to my place and get my bag.”

“Alright, hen,” Johnny smiled, “Lead the way.”

You led them up and out of the building and into the cold night air. Your apartment was only a short walk from this side of campus, so you decided to forego the bus ride. 

Johnny had your hand clasped in his so tightly that you wondered if he was alright. You looked up at him, and he smiled. You didn’t know how to say all the things you wanted to say, so you just commented on the most obvious one first,

“Where did you learn Sonnet 91? Or 92 and 93 for that matter?”

Gaz interrupted you, turning his head to talk over his shoulder as you walked behind him,

“Bloody stuck in his Kindle for months, he was. I think he read them all, and then he read them all to us. We’ve had more of the Bard than fuckin’ Lizzy the first.”

You gasped and made a face at Johnny, waiting for him to answer for his actions. He just shrugged, his cheeks flushed either from the embarrassment or the cold. 

Price walked up beside him and knocked him a bit on his shoulder, ribbing him along with Gaz,

“Especially that one. What number?”

“Fuckin’ 145,” Ghost groaned.

Then, in unison, the three soldiers all started reciting it aloud, their voices sing-song and purposefully annoying, 

“Those lips that Love’s own hand did make breathed forth the sound that said “I hate” to me that languished for her sake…”

Johnny shoved Gaz back to the front of the group with his free hand, laughing it off,

“Alright, alright, you bastards. I may have read it two or three times…”

“Two or three hundred, Sergeant,” Price rolled his eyes. 

You grinned up at Johnny, humming your pleasure,

“Wow! I’m impressed. Didn’t know you were such a Shakespeare fan.”

Gaz scoffed, 

“It’s not the poems he’s a fan of!”

Price smacked him on his arm, stopping Gaz from being too mean in his playfulness, aware that Johnny had his limits of what he would allow to be said in front of you.

“Mmm,” you answered noncommittally, squeezing Johnny’s hand as it held yours, clutching at you like the end of a rope, holding you like an anchor to his hull.

As you made it to your apartment, you pointed to the small coffee shop on the corner of your block,

“Do you wanna wait somewhere warm? I’ll only be a minute.”

Price snorted, grinning as if he had just remembered a private joke, 

“Go help her with her bags, Sergeant. C’mon, lads.”

The trio left you together, and Johnny waited for you to open the door to the lobby. You buzzed in and waited for the elevator in the quiet foyer. 

He was silent the whole ride up to your floor. You thought he’d have more to say, especially after just getting back from a tour. You wondered what was keeping him so quiet. 

You jiggled your key into the lock and pushed your way inside. Marlowe was on the futon, lounging in her favorite position, but when she saw the strange man in her house, she bristled and fled beneath your bed. 

“Marlowe,” Johnny said, recognizing her. 

“Yeah,” you smiled, grabbing your vitamins from the kitchen cabinet to put in your bag, “Sorry, she’s afraid of strangers.”

“It’s alright, hen. I love your place. Look at that view. You can see the river and everything. That’s class.”

He was being polite. Johnny was way too big for your apartment. With him in the space, it felt like you may as well have lived in a tent. It was such close quarters that you spent most of the time edging around him to get to your stuff. 

“Can I…?” He was pointing down at your bed, asking to sit. 

Recognizing your rudeness, you nodded,

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry. Can I get you a water or something? Tea?”

“No, I’m good,” he sat and smiled, still looking around the space, taking it in. To be fair, there wasn’t much to see.

You continued to pack, trying to hurry knowing his friends were downstairs waiting for you. 

“Okay, toothbrush… I think I’m all set. Are you ready?”

“No,” he was looking down at the floor, and his tone was so soft that it made you stop your packing whirlwind to listen to him. 

The silence deepened between you, and you tried to be patient. Neither of you dared to move, but he met your eyes. 

“What is it, Johnny?” You asked, still waiting. 

He stood and walked the half step it took to stand before you. His huge shoulders blocked out the light, and you could tell he was chewing on his words, working them over and over to make sure they were right. 

“I need to know…” he said quietly, running his fingers through your hair again, “I need to know if you are havin’ any doubts about this, lass. I dinnae want to pressure you, and I know I shouldnae be asking you to lie to her, but I need you, mèirleach. I need to know you’re not still havin’ doubts about the way I feel about you.”

Were you? You weren’t sure. You knew he cared about you, and you didn’t have any evidence that he was playing you, but Pidge’s warning still raged in the back of your mind. 

You sighed,

“I don’t doubt that you have feelings for me.”

“But, you think they willnae last?”

“I don’t know, but I want to find out. It’s just hard to have confidence in a secret.”

He furrowed his brow,

“I’d call her and tell her now, if you’d let me. You wanna wait, hen. And I’m fine with that. I am. But, how am I supposed to show you who I am when I’m not supposed to be showin’ you anything at all?”

You didn’t know what to say to him, and it made you feel discouraged. Maybe you were wrong. Perhaps you should have kept your promise after all, and this was just too complicated. 

Johnny watched the guilt spread across your face and chased you down with his eyes, his tone laced with dark suggestion,

“Unless you want me to show you now, thief.”

You did. You wanted him to show you everything he was. And, you understood what he was asking you for. The nerves between your legs pulsed, and blood rushed down your arms, excited for whatever he was threatening you with. You wanted him to fuck you right here in your apartment. But, you hesitated, very aware that if you said yes, if you let him show you what he wanted you to see, you wouldn’t be able to come back from that. The guilt would eat you alive. 

“Your… friends…” you picked at the zipper of his thick coat, stepping close enough to him that you could feel his heat radiating from inside the fleece lining of it. 

“My friends can wait, thief. I can’t.”

“Then don’t.”

The same way a bear trap snapped shut, its teeth digging into the writhing flesh of the creature inside its metal maw, that was how he caught you in that moment. You looked up at him, eyes wide and expectant, and you were greeted with a hunter’s smile. He knew he had you, and he went for the kill, putting you out of your misery. His arms wrapped around your body as he kissed you with a high fever, moving from your mouth to your neck as quickly as he could, devouring your soft flesh there, nipping and sucking at you frenzied and harsh. All of his gentle reservedness was gone, pushed aside in favor of sating his wild craving. 

You were on the bed in a second, your back flat, pressed into the mattress by his heavy weight. He didn’t readjust. He allowed his body to pin you down, crushing you beneath him. You tried to rid him of his jacket; there were so many layers between you, and you were eager for there to be none. 

He helped you, shucking off his coat and shirt layers quickly before returning to your mouth and throat, breathlessly panting as he kissed and licked your throat. His chest was bare to you then, and the cold metal of his tags stung your chest as they jingled out of his clothes, falling onto you like two silver coins. You rubbed his body down, pressing into the muscles of his neck and back, feeling them jerk and lunge as he moved above you. He kissed your mouth again, moaning through his nose. 

Then, he was peeling you apart, taking your clothes and tossing them away, pulling off the tissue from a coveted gift. Johnny didn’t even take time to pause at your bra; he just yanked it over your head with the rest of your clothes, unceremoniously. While you were sucking on his tongue and kissing down the scruff of his jaw, you heard his boots thump onto the floor, one after the other. 

All that remained between you were your slacks and his jeans, and he was forced to leave your mouth to deal with the barriers. He made his way to your breasts, sucking on them hungrily, but not playing. He was done playing with you, it seemed. 

He popped the button on your pants and tucked both of his hands into the waistband, grabbing your panties along with it, and ripped them down your legs with a deep grunt. You were naked, and the denim of his jeans raked against your sensitive skin. He was grinding his body against you as you were trapped beneath him, and you felt his hips rock back and forth as he rubbed his cock against your core, trying to use the friction inside of his jeans to find some pleasure, returning to your nipples to lick them into stiff peaks. 

You wrapped your legs around his hips, your thighs halfway between the skin of his ribs and the bite of his belt, letting him thrust against you. 

“Johnny,” you whispered, “Take them off.”

“Not yet, hen.”

You moaned, feeling his crotch pressing hard against yours, but not being able to find any sort of consistency in the texture. 

“Why not?” You asked and begged at the same time.

“Because…” He kissed his way down your belly, settling his face between your thighs, “As soon as I do, I’m gonna fuck you, mèirleach. And I’ve not tasted you, yet.”

His mouth was wet and hot and just what you wanted. Johnny ate you like he was on a mission. There was no careful exploration like the first time. It felt like he was eating you to satisfy his own craving, and your enjoyment was merely a fringe benefit. 

You keened as loudly as you dared, crying out for him as he lapped at your folds, hunting down your flavor. 

Then, he began to speak to you as he sucked on your clit, pausing to say his words before returning to his font to swallow more of you down into his throat. 

“Do y’know how long I’ve waited for this, hen?”

Suck, lick, kiss…

“How many nights…”

Suck.

“...in the sand…”

Lick.

“...in the bloody dark…”

Kiss.

“...waiting to have you in my mouth like this.”

Lick. Lick. Liiiickkkk…

“Oh, fuck, Johnny!” You bit down on the back of your hand, reeling from the pressure building in your center, feeling chills on your arms and chest, “Please…”

“And when Gaz told me…”

Suck.

“...I didnae believe him.”

Lick.

“But, I wanted to. I wanted to believe…”

Kiss.

“...that you were really mine…” 

Suuuuckkkk.

“...mo mèirleach…” 

Liiickkkk.

“...mo ghràdh.” 

You started to come, your hips vaulting into his strong jaws, and his eyes found yours, bright and clear, staring at you, watching you fall apart in his mouth. At the last moment, just before you fell over the peak, he wrenched his eyes shut and sucked even harder, yanking you into a furious, crashing orgasm. 

Then, desperately scrambling to taste the result, he thrust his tongue deep into your hole, his entire mouth suctioned to your pussy, reaping his soaking reward. 

“Johnny,” you sobbed, overwhelmed by the power you felt growing inside of you, bursting across your body like hundreds of little fireworks.

He was back up by your face in a moment, cradling you and kissing you with your come smeared all over his lips and cheeks,

“Shh, shh… it’s alright, lass. I know what you need. It’s what I need, too.”

You heard his zipper and watched him slide out of his jeans, kicking his socks off with them, naked with you once more, and now with full intent. His cock was drooling onto your belly, the precome leaving long, sticky trails as his swollen shaft traced its way up and down through your folds. Johnny’s cock was so hard that it felt like a warm, iron pipe was pressing into you, threatening and dangerous. 

You must have worn the concern on your face because he chuckled down at you, kissing your forehead sweetly as he humped himself against you,

“Too much for you, thief?”

You let your hands meet in the middle, holding his dick with one on top of the other, effectively jacking him off as he thrust forward and back, wetting him with his own lubrication, and you watched him throw his head back in sharp need. You smiled up at him,

“Not yet.”

“Jesus Christ,” he paused, holding his position, poised like a viper. Then, he looked down at you, suddenly serene, “Do you need a condom?”

“No, do you?”

“Fuck, no,” he said, and he immediately sank his head into your softness, melting into you with a slick slide, trusting you implicitly, believing you like a disciple. 

Your body hadn’t experienced a cock as thick and as hard as his. It wasn’t uncomfortably long, but its upward curve was particularly cruel. It was built to torture the soft pleasure-ladden spot inside of your walls, dragging across it as he fit himself inside of you. It took a few thrusts until you felt his hilt, but you were wet enough that your pussy didn’t need much coaxing. He was sighing above you, audibly and full of relief, his face bent and twisted in a perfect torment. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… thief, holy fuck. Oh, Christ. I cannae… oh…”

His thrusts were audible. Flesh pounded into flesh, and the wet noises coming from you seemed unreal. Each and every time he entered you, pressing through you and molding you to his shape, you felt sparks of bliss within your belly, expectant and eager. 

“Johnny… it feels so good. You feel…” 

“You alright, mo ghràdh? Do you… mmmph, fuck… do you need me to slow down?”

You imagined what that would be like, and your pussy railed against it, feral and wanton, fighting any semblance of gentility with sharpened teeth and greedy claws. 

“No, please… don’t.” you kissed his cheek as he lay his head into your shoulder, deep in concentration, rolling in his passion.

Your kiss made him turn to face you, kissing your mouth so softly, with loose, relaxed lips, gently sliding his cheek across yours like a huge cat, rubbing himself all over you. He didn’t stop, but he spoke to you darkly, 

“I’ll do whatever you want, lass. Tell me, and it’s yours.”

“This,” you sighed, moaning as another wave of pleasure made you clench down around him, gripping him from within you with a fluttering squeeze, “You. Just you, mo chridhe.”

You tested out the nickname you’d used before, hoping to encourage him. You may as well have poured kerosene on a fire. He narrowed his eyes at you in disbelief, obviously hearing it and using it like war paint, covering his body in it, staining himself in it, changing himself from the inside out to fit its definition. He lay his head next to yours as he worked his cock within you, grunting through gritted teeth with each heavy thrust. His body started to tremble, shaking with his need to come, and the low, long whine that came from his throat made it sound like he was boiling over with blinding pleasure. 

He took both of his arms and crossed them behind your back, grasping your shoulders from behind in a painfully tight hold. Then, pressed to his chest, he lifted you, settling you in his lap in the lotus position, keeping his cock sheathed deep inside of you. You grabbed onto his neck instinctively, holding him like a lifeline, rocking your hips into him to chase that friction. 

Johnny sighed, pressing his forehead to yours, 

“Yes, yes, yes, thief. Take it. Fuck yourself on me, hen. Use me. I wanna feel you come, mèirleach…” 

He begged so sweetly, and you were happy to oblige. You used his shoulders to brace yourself while you pushed your body down onto him, spearing yourself over and over. At this new angle, his cockhead hit your g-spot every single goddamn time, and you were dizzy from his menacing shape. He snaked his hand between you to press on your clit, not even rubbing it but applying force, giving you something to grind against. The combination of his hand and his cock and his growling whines of struggling for control were enough to do the trick, and you saw white behind your eyes as you fell into a chaotic, plunging orgasm once again. 

“Fuuuuckkkk…” He groaned loudly, his voice turning vicious, “You are mine.”

Your body fell back to the bed and he shoved your legs onto one of his shoulders, fucking you as deep as he could go, stretching you as he did, throwing himself into you as you came down from your high. He was shouting, curses and praises, all in a filthy, animalistic snarl. Johnny just kept repeating the same phrase in a cultish chant, mindless and recursive, completely beyond himself, past reality. 

“You’re mine, thief. Mine.”

As he came, he searched for your eyes, staring into them, showing you his elation. You ran a hand across his scalp, your fingernails dragging through his mohawk, and you saw the whites of his eyes as he rolled them back into his head involuntarily. You held onto his hair and gave it a little pressure, holding his skull in your hands as he filled you with his spent pleasure, his cock throbbing, pulsing rope after rope of hot come into your belly, frothing and foaming around the base of his shaft as he fucked you through it. 

20 MINUTES LATER

You were so worried that his friends would make some sort of comment. As you walked back to the coffee shop, tucked under his heavy arm, you prepared for the playful banter and the jeering. His mohawk was destroyed, and you were both glowing with a sheen of sweat, matching in your states. You knew that they knew. You could also tell that Johnny was bracing himself for the worst, steeling his resolve before entering the cafe. And you thought you would get, at the very least, some mention of how long it had taken to get your bags. But, when you made it to the coffee shop, they didn’t say a word. They smiled, and although they smiled knowingly, there was more affection in it than mischief. It shocked you. After all the ribbing from before, to have none now seemed like some kind of gift. When Johnny realized they were going to let him keep his prize for himself, uncontested, he began to glow with pride as much as pleasure. 

The ride was not quiet, though. All of their stories from Urzikstan and its many dangers started to come out. Price told you about how Gaz and Ghost were almost incinerated in a cobalt mine, and Johnny was showing off his newest badge - a retro SAS pin Price had given him for rescuing the other two from said mine. The blue wings and the motto surrounded a bright sword.

“Who dares, wins?” You asked, trying to see the words in the dark backseat. 

Ghost, who had needed to sit in the front with Johnny because of his height, nodded, taking the pin back from you to admire it.

“Well deserved,” Price commented beside you. 

“Sounds like it,” you agreed. 

Johnny had been so sweet to you after his ferocious lovemaking, you thought all the medals in the world might not be enough to thank the man. No one had ever been so kind nor so attentive. Most of the time, you and whatever lad would clean up separately, maybe watch a show or two and then say your goodbyes. Not Johnny. He spent most of his time admiring your body, making sure you were intact and unharmed. Then, after covering you up with your softest throw, he came back with a hot towel and cleaned you up meticulously. He lay beside you until you felt good enough to get dressed, and still as you were putting your hair up, he made you a tea and finished packing your bag with the things you’d forgotten; your vitamins on the counter and your phone charger. 

When you came out of the bathroom, he had stripped your sheets and put them in the hamper, and Marlowe’s food timer had been set. Her litter box was clean, and the automated litter keeper was reset. You wondered fleetingly if he had wiped down the counters as well. 

The drive felt shorter than usual, especially since your thoughts were on other things. But, when you pulled into Old Kilpatrick, Johnny spoke up to the whole car,

“Look, no one says a fuckin’ thing about us to my sister. To anyone, alright? She’ll find out when she’s bloody meant to.”

The men agreed to keep quiet, but Gaz mouthed off beside you, 

“Sure we can keep a secret, Soap, but what about you? I wouldn’t give you a medal for impulse control, mate.”

Johnny eyed him in the rear-view mirror with a stern glare,

“Aye, but then that’s my problem, you daft bastard.”

 Gaz rolled his eyes, grinning all the while. 

By the time you’d arrived, the only open spot to sleep was a big pallet on the floor of the living room. Hamish was the only one awake to welcome you, and he set you up with pillows and blankets to camp out like a row of sardines. 

“Hey, lass,” Hamish told you, “Go sleep with Pigeon. She’d murder me for leaving you on the ground.”

He looked worn out, and although you didn’t mind sleeping on the floor, you didn’t have any real reason to insist. So, you hugged all the boys good night, making sure not to take too long on Johnny’s turn, and retreated to your post. 

Pidge was snoring softly as you entered the room, and you got ready for bed as quietly as you could, plugging in your phone to the nightstand. It buzzed, and you saw his message flash up on the screen:

Mo Chridhe: miss you 

You: i miss you too

Mo Chridhe: im still in a wee shock

You: why

Mo Chridhe: you. cannae believe youre mine

You: i am. and youre mine johnny mactavish.

Mo Chridhe: promise

You: promise

CHRISTMAS MORNING

Waking up with Johnny and sitting around the tree together with your coffee was every bit like Christmas morning as when you were a child. Instead of presents, you were content to sit as close to him as you dared, pretending to be making room for others by finding spots on the floor beside the gifts and stockings. 

All together, it was Johnny, his three soldiers, you, Pidge, Hamish, Hamish’s mum and dad, and Roger. Rodger had crashed on the couch last night, the Hamiltons had taken Johnny’s room, and now you were all crowded up in the small den, passing gifts around and chatting as you opened your presents. There weren’t many, but it was enough to feel like a holiday. 

Roger got the Playstation he’d been begging for from his brother, and his parents had bought him the games. Pidge had given Johnny a new set of headphones since his had melted in the cobalt mining fire. She also got him a pound of her shortbread cookies, which he was stuffing into his mouth with absolute abandon. He’d bought her a tea set off her wedding registry, and Hamish had landed a very aggressive knife from him. The professor was already being given a tutorial by Captain Price, and you tried not to laugh as he practiced stabbing the air with him in the kitchen. Price was scary when he did it, but Hamish looked downright silly. 

“Okay, alright. My turn. Here,” you gave out your cards to everyone in attendance, but pulled out a box for Pidge. 

“What did you do! I told you not to, hen. I am going to give you a laldy, and you’d deserve it!” She hugged you around the neck and jiggled the box. 

Satisfied with the rattle, she tore into the paper and gingerly lifted off the lid. Inside, she saw the MacTavish tartan, woven into a full shawl, embroidered with a tiny pigeon in the corner, just for her. She inspected it with wonder, her breath fully stolen away. 

“Did you… You made this? Are you doin’ your weavin’ again, babe? I thought you gave it up.”

You shrugged,

“I found a reason to give it one last shot.”

Pidge started to cry real, honest tears, and she reached out for you, clutching the shawl to her chest, sobbing, 

“Thank you, hen. Thank you so much. After they buried mum in hers, and I didn’t… I couldn’t touch it anymore, I just…”

You held her and rocked her back and forth, smiling at her outpouring of love,

“I know, babe. I remember you saying so. But, now you’ve got one of your own.”

For a moment, you stole a glance at Johnny. The whole room was a little moved by your gesture, but he looked… unwell. He was standing behind everyone, and you were the only one looking at him. His hand was clasped over his mouth, and he had tears coming from his eyes, unblinking, letting them roll down his cheeks one after the other, staring at you, frozen in place. He was so unsettled that, for a moment, you thought you’d made some error. But, as Pidge recovered, so did he, and he wiped his face to return to normal; putting on a mask of an expression, hiding whatever he had just shown you. 

“You’re the best damn friend I’ve ever had, hen. And I love you. Dearly.”

“I love you too, Pidge.”

“Here, here, open mine! It’s not as braw as all tha’ you did, but still.”

You were handed a gift bag, and you peeked inside. You found a book of poetry with some incredible illustrations inside, and a charm necklace with a silver boar hanging from it. 

“It’s our wee clan beastie. You may as well be a MacTavish by now, hen. So, I thought you should have it.”

You smiled, letting her put it on you. Then, you hugged her tight, 

“You don’t know what that means to me, Pidge.”

Pidge laughed through dried tears, still emotional,

“Ha! Says you, miss weaver. Honestly.”

You let her gush over it a little more before you retreated back to your position beside Johnny. You pulled out the four smaller boxes from your bag and handed them to the soldiers, indiscriminately since they were all alike. 

“What did you do, thief?” Johnny’s voice was low, and he was grinning up at you, staring at you through those dark lashes.

“Open them,” you urged him. 

They did, and one by one they all pulled out small compasses, made with built-in flint strikers, hanging from tied paracord. It was the most tactical practical thing you could find on such short notice, but they all seemed pleased. Gaz shook it at Price, 

“This would’ve been bloody helpful in South Tobraka!”

You laughed, 

“Well, I’m sure it’s a little too low-tech for you, but Merry Christmas anyway.”

“It’s bloody perfect,” Gaz smiled, clapping you on the back. Ghost nodded, and Price hooked it to his lanyard without questioning it. 

Johnny bent over to whisper to you as discreetly as he could, 

“Gotta sneak off to give you mine, lass.”

You smacked him on the arm, whispering back, watching Pidge like a hawk as you did so to make sure she couldn’t see you,

“Don’t be naughty.”

Johnny laughed, 

“No, no. I’m serious.”

“Alright!” Hamish clapped his hands, causing you to jump out of your skin, “Who’s ready for crackers?”

CHRISTMAS NIGHT

You and Johnny were curled up on the couch with a steaming cup of sweet wassail, scrolling through the photos you’d taken that night. You popped two crackers together, pulling out your paper crowns, your gold and his blue, snapping selfies and reading the jokes to each other. Everyone was in their crowns by the end of the night, and while Price smoked cigars on the porch with Gaz and Ghost, Pidge and Hamish had driven his parents and brother home. 

You were finally alone after having such a full house, and your gift for him was burning a hole in your bag. You were dying to give it to him, but he beat you to the punch.

“Alright, mèirleach, are you ready for your wee gift? It’s probably gonna earn me extra PT for a few months, but it’s worth it.”

“Why?” You asked, setting your cup down on the end table and turning your body towards him. 

“‘Cause I’m not even supposed to have these off-duty, much less hand them over to my American lassie.”

Johnny dug into the neckline of his shirt and pulled out the dog tags that you had encountered last night when he took you to bed. The coin jangled on the chain as he pulled it over his head, and like a medal for an award you had not won, he looped it behind your neck, letting the coin fall between your breasts, still warm from his body and now warm from yours. 

You pulled it up to read its stamp, staring at the words:

O POS 2073521 MACTAVISH SAS RC

“Wanted you to have it, lass. A wee piece of me to keep safe, if you will.”

It was hard to know why you started crying, but you felt the searing tears fall down your cheeks as you stared at the tag. His blood type was what started it all, and you began to imagine all of the times that this thin coin would have warranted such a label. 

“It’s alright, mèirleach, if you dinnae —”

“No,” you raised your hand to his face, closing your other hand around the coin and pulling it in to your chest, eager to keep it safe just as he had asked, “Thank you, Johnny. I love it.”

He turned his face toward your hand as you caressed his scruffy jaw, and kissed your palm, holding your hand with his so you couldn’t escape. 

“I got you something, too. But, it’s small, and now I’m afraid you won’t have anything to hang it on.”

You dug in your bag and pulled out a small cardboard box with a thin red string tied around it. There was no card, there was no name printed on it, but he knew it was him nonetheless. He took it from you, almost snatching it, excited and surprised, not waiting for it to be given. 

“Thief! You didnae have to do that,” he was grinning, and his eyes gleamed, full of sudden joy. 

You’d found an old locket at the charity shop, and your gift had fit inside perfectly. When he opened the clasp, he froze. You’d use a scrap of the shawl that you’d woven for Pidge and cut a little circle from it, embroidering a tiny map of Scotland over the threads, planting a little red heart over what was almost Glasgow. 

“Mo mèirleach…”

“Mo chridhe.”

As soon as you said his name, his eyes found yours and he leaned in to kiss you, clutching the locket in his fist, tight, tight, tight. 

BEFORE DAWN

That night, in his bed, smelling his oranges and cloves, his scent filling your nose, covering you with his sheets, you lay buried in his chest where his tags used to lie, your cheek now warming the skin beneath. You imagined the compasses that dangled from the four sets of keys strewn across the kitchen counter. You thought about the shawl that was wrapped around his sister as she slept in her bed. Holding his locket in your hand, you ran your fingertips over its tartan, borne of the same threads as hers. You wondered about tomorrow, and the day after that, and the year ahead of you, and you felt a tightness in your own chest as you considered the timeline stretching out before you, woven from the choices you and your lover had made together. It was as if you had altered fate’s plan somehow, shunning your intended path and forging one of your own making. What future had you created? Did you have the guile to craft the right course? You held his hand, his fingers laced between yours, and whichever way you went, you hoped that he would be braving it with you.

[rodolfoparras]

So in SSKTJL, the suicide squad gets infected with Fear Gas because of Batman

For context, Fear Gas is a gas created by Scarecrow or Johnathan Crane, and when inhaled, you live through your worst fears until worn off.

And Digger's worst fear is everyone leaving him behind, being unwanted and forgotten. In the scene, George talks to himself, saying they've probably already left him. Calling himself a loser and and a coward and shit. He sees "NOT WANTED" posters of himself hung up around

(I can't do this anymore, bro)

What if Reader's worst fear was watching all of his friends/teammates die and losing them all🥰

Running around trying to listen to Harley's advice (because she knows Scarecrow and the toxin) but he just keeps hearing his friends scream for help and their bodies everywhere but he's literally unable to help them, because they're not fucking real but it's scary asf

And once it's all over, Reader is all over Digger the rest of the night. They're the closest, so it's already not that weird, but he's literally not giving Digger a MOMENT of peace. a hand on that man the entire time, following him everywhere, fucking sleeps on top of him to try and keep him safe

Mumbles to him all night about being scared of losing him and how much he cares about him and Digger's just "🧍‍♂️wut?" Because he genuinely believes that despite working with the team, he's very easily disposable and they could all replace him but don't because of Waller

Reader ramping up his affection for Digger after that because he's not gonna let him think that shit??

Idk where I'm going with this but I love him so much. Just wanna play with his hair and kiss his face 😞

-🐧

Cw: tooth rotting fluff, x male reader

Okay but thinking about you being unable to calm down even though the gas has long stopped having effect, even though you’re back in your current reality with all your friends where they’re all very much alive and doing well but no matter what they say or do you just can’t calm down

It’s like you’re still stuck in that place, watching all your friends die in front of you without being able to do anything, and Digger being Digger starts joking around, telling the rest of the team how they should just knock you out to make sure you get to sleep through the night.

But his words turn into squeaks as you pull him into a bruising grip, his head shoved into your chest, and your arms locked in an iron grip around his waist.

Unintelligible sounds escape his lips as he tries to push you away from him but you don’t budge an inch, if anything you hold him tighter, nuzzling your face into his honey blonde locks and inhaling his scent, and for once you actually seem to relax.

“Uh hello big guy? cant breathe here,” the sound of Digger’s strained voice sends the whole squad into fits of laughter, with them even making comments about how you’re his responsibility for the night before splitting up to get some rest.

“Alright alright that’s enough” digger says as he finally breaks out of your embrace “jeez I know I’m a lovable guy but even that was a bit too much eh?” Digger says, clearly being sarcastic as he proceeds to prepare his make shift bed.

He doesn’t even get to lay down properly before you’re on top of him, your body weight pinning him in place an arm once again locked around his waist.

“God dammit,” Digger grunts out as his back meets the harsh impact of the ground. “What’s with you tonight eh? Gas scared you that bad? What did you even see?”

And maybe it’s the hint of concern in his voice or it’s the exhaustion from todays events, but you decide to tell you him what you saw earlier today.

Surprisingly enough, Digger listens intently to every word you have to say, at some point you think he’s fallen asleep or spaced out because it’s so unusual for him to not interrupt but when you look up, you see the very much focused look on his face as he continues to listen to you.

Once you’re done speaking you peer up at him - only to be met with the sight of his furrowed brows as he worries his bottom lip.

This time it’s your turn to ask what’s on his mind, digger doesn’t waste a second before he starts to explain, telling you how he can understand why you’d be worried about losing king shark- he was a great asset to the team - or Harley - she was a smart cookie or dead shot - look at his name! who wouldn’t want a guy like that on his team ? but he can’t understand why you’d be worried about losing him.

He doesn’t say it in a self deprecating way, but rather as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, as if he’s speaking of the way the sun is bound to rise tomorrow and maybe that hurts more than if he were to say it in a self deprecating tone.

You’re swift to rise up, knocking the air out of his lungs as you go on a tangent about how of course he’s an important part of the team, promptly mentioning the many times he’s saved your ass or saved another member of the team, the many times he’d been the reason as to why they succeeded in whatever mission you were doing.

By the time you’re done you’re all out of breath, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace hands still hanging in the air and staring wide eyed at the Aussie man.

“Alright alright big guy I get it,” he says, now sporting a blush on his face and avoiding your gaze while bashfully rubbing at the back of his neck. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you have a crush on the ol’ captain” Digger say with somewhat of a forced chuckle , and peers up at you beneath soft blonde lashes.

“Maybe I do,” you shrug.

“Wha-“

“Sleep digger, we have a long day tomorrow no?” You say, suddenly laying down again and pulling him into your arms before he can protest. You can hear him cursing under his breath but he doesn’t do anything to try and get out of your embrace. “Goodnight captain” you say with a smile on your face.

“Goodnight” he grumbles back as he tightens his hold on your waist.

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

Mcr headcanon: y/n (gn) is starring in a horror movie and they’re character d!es in the movie.

Like they d!e in a HORRIBLE way, like horrifying way, how do the boys react to it?

TW: mentions of a fictional character's death, mentions of food, mentions of jealousy

Gerard

I'm literally on my way back from a Yosakoi festival after getting up at 3am (it's 9pm currently, I had 4 hours of sleep), and my feet have been in soaking wet shoes for the past 10 hours (I think they're starting to develop gills) because the rainy season decided to made a comeback and they had to cancel the fireworks because of that (at a festival that's called a "fire carnival" of all events), and you're coming with this? Not formatted properly because I'm literally sitting in a bus, that's driving through the Kyūshū night while I have glitter stones stuck to my face and two braids with Yukata-hair-accessories on my head.

WC: ???

Assuming Gerard knows what's gonna happen, he's probably looking forward to it. He's sitting in your living room, watching the screen attentively, the snacks you were sharing long forgotten as his eyes follow the action. He's leant forward, ellbows on knees, asking "oh, is this where it happens?" in an almost gleeful voice. Depending on how sudden the scene happens, he either gets jumpscared or just follows the story like the most interesting lecture. Either way he ends up laughing, and leaning back into the couch once it's over, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and kissing your forehead. "Well done," he'll tell you with his lips pressed to your forehead.

Would he watch that movie again: sure! It's a good movie! Next time he'd like to discuss the foreshadowing of the ending through the use of colours and the weather in the early scenes of the movie.

Mikey

Mikey loves horror movies, and that his s/o is staring in one is just a major plus to him. He has a lot of experience with horro movies, so he catches on pretty early that your character is going to die, even if you didn't tell him. He would low-key get excited about it. A voice in the back of his head tells him that 15 or 20 years ago the idea of watching a character that has the face of a beloved person die on screen would have terrified him, even though he was very well able to tell fiction from reality, but now he just enjoys the action, as he feels you cuddled into his side. He might even go as far as offer ideas for even more gruesome deaths, or ways to make the character's death even more painful for the audience.

Would he watch that movie again: absolutely! Has the potential to become a new favourite of his.

Side note: my seatmate just fell asleep on my shoulder. I shall not move until she wakes up.

Ray

Ray would generally be pretty chill about it. He grew up with horror movies too, and he is used to seeing you on screen, so he isn't all too bothered by it, but probably more bothered than Gerard. He doesn't show it all too openly, only pulls you in after the scene is over and praises your work. The only indication that he is more affected by it than he lets on is when he pulls you in a little tighter that night, holding you close to his warm body with his nose buried against your neck. (Seatmate just tried sitting up, and failed. Head is back on my shoulder.)

Would he watch that movie again: he wouldn't necessarily bring it up by himself. If he wants to see you act, there are other movies you're in, where you get a happy end, or at least don't die (he prefers watching those over watching your character die, even if he has to suffer through watching you kiss another actor or actress in front of the camera. It always makes him a bit more self-conscious watching you kiss those perfect people, even if it's not real, and he get a bit more clingy than usual for a few days afterwards.)

Seatmate sat up again, is leaning towards the other side now.

Frank

Frank plays is cool, but isn't. Like the others he has seen enough horror movies and has seen you enough on screen. He's even okay with your characters making out with other characters on screen, even though he does have a (well controlled) possessive side that usually tries to act up when some person is hitting on you. (Seatmate's head is back on my shoulder. She's so cute.) So he knows he shouldn't feel that pit in his stomach opening, it's just fiction after all, you're right here next to him, babbling about how hot the studio was that day while playing with his fingers. Still he closes his eyes at the last shot showing your character staring up right past the camera with lifeless eyes. He has watched your characters die on screen before, but something about the way this is portrayed hits different. "Whoa, that looked pretty real," he'd chuckle, his voice a little more shaky than he'd like to admit, "rad acting there!" Luckily you know him well enough to see through his facade. You know he's self-conscious about his feelings towards this scene, so you don't address it directly, but you scoot a little closer to him at night, and he takes the invitation, and wrappes you in his arms (which is rare, since he usually needs a little bit of space to fall asleep).

Would he watch that movie again: only if you asked and he couldn't come up with an excuse not to watch it. He'd rather not see this last shot of your face again.

And since nobody asked, you get a picture of our banner

[irondad-defensesquad]

edit (december 6th 2023): this has been getting a lot of notes - thank you for the love btw! - so i just wanted you to know that this idea has a full story! it's right here. thanks again!

tony is checking his notes while he works, when he hears the door opening.

"oh peter, is that you?" he says, a little relieved but also annoyed. "care to explain why you haven't replied to any of my messages-?"

when he looks behind him, though, there's nobody in the lab.

... the meow startles him.

tony finds the black cat sitting on his notebook, and doesn't appear to plan on getting off.

"seriously?" tony groans. "friday, why is the little black hole in here?"

"he is boss jr., isn't that correct?" the A.I. replies rather smugly.

the man glares at the ceiling. "very funny." then he turns to the cat. "why are you like this. i thought cats liked to be alone. but i guess you just love bugging me."

the cat doesn't reply. he dares to lie down, refusing to let tony work. before they settle on yet another glaring contest today, the older man's phone vibrates on the desk, much to the cat's curiosity. tony quickly takes it and sees he has new text messages from peter.

peter: sorry mr stark, i can't come over today

peter: i have a decathlon meeting and i can't miss it

tony audibly groans. yeah, of course. obviously.

then peter sends another one.

peter: how is tony jr? is he behaving?

tony aggressively texts back.

tony: that is not his name. and no, he's being a little menace, alright. he ruined my couch, he knocked my favorite mug over, and now he won't let me work.

peter: aww mr stark, he just wants attention!

tony: yeah, but he doesn't have to be such a little shit.

peter: stop being mean to him!!!

tony: he's being mean to me.

tony: so what, i'm gonna be stuck with him for another night?

the teen spends a while writing the next text, which becomes many of them, probably indicating he's anxious.

peter: look mr stark i'm sorry i forced you to look after him

peter: i just couldn't leave him in the cold and aunt may already has a lot in her plate

peter: but i didn't mean to make you mad either

peter: i promise i'll try to come over as soon as i can to take him to the shelter

tony's anger fades. he sighs it out.

tony: kid, it's fine. i get it. you have a good heart and i'm proud of you for that. i just wasn't ready to have a stray cat home.

tony: but this isn't your fault, okay? you did the right thing.

he almost texts more but decides not to.

peter: ok mr stark

peter: i'll try to get him to the shelter by the end of the week

tony: no pressure, kiddo.

when he thinks it's over, peter sends yet another one.

peter: hey mr stark? could you take a pic of him? i miss his little face 🥺

tony rolls his eyes and positions the starkphone in front of the cat. the little feline seems to notice it and looks back. and he tilts his head almost instantly. though tony knows it's not out of confusion - it's like he's posing for the photo.

the hero sends it to peter.

who in turn, replies with several stickers of people exploding with heart emojis.

peter: omg!!!! bby!!!! i would die for him!!!!

tony: please don't.

peter: aww he even posed!

peter: guess he rlly takes after you 😊

tony: he is still not my cat.

peter: still... just be good to him until i get back ok? he just wants some company

you don't get it, pete. i'm irresponsible and i ruin everything i touch.

tony doesn't send that.

instead, tony looks at the cat deep into his golden eyes.

his hand approaches the little void. he expects to get bitten or scratched like he has been all day. but worse...

i ruin everything i touch, and i'm going to kill another innocent creature. i'm going to kill him. i'm going to kill him.

...

the cat is snuggling against his hand, purring.

then he lets tony pet his whole body and his tail touches his fingers.

indeed... all the cat ever wanted was love and attention. the things he never had in the past.

with a relieved smile on his face, tony finally answers peter.

tony: okay.

just a simple reply. but many promises.

[inspirationalucky]

"THE MORTUARY ASSISTANT" PROMPTS & STARTERS. demonic possession & hauntings. adjust as needed!

"i need help! someone's outside!"

"just try to stay calm. i know you're scared."

"this is very sudden, but listen to me. we have to start right away."

"i'm sorry, i didn't know until it made itself known this morning."

"i didn't know that it was here... let alone bound to you."

"i had no way of knowing the possession had started."

"you need to take this seriously. you need to act quickly."

"you can't leave, [name]! i can't allow that for you... or for others."

"so we stay calm... ok?"

"treat it like a normal day. staying focused will help."

"you don't have to believe me, but i hope you do before it's too late."

"the only way to save yourself is to banish the demon before you're too far gone."

"you'll need to learn the demon's name, bind it to it's chosen body, and burn it in the retort."

"i know this is a lot to take in."

"i had years to learn what i know. you have hours."

"you can't trust the phones. anything can be manipulated."

"good luck, [name]. i'm sorry this had to happen."

"yeah, screw all of... whatever this is."

"to banish a demon to hell, it must be bound to its chosen body and burned."

"you're just seeing things."

"i'm just seeing things... i need to get back to work, it's fine."

"it's my fucking fault!"

"don't really have a choice... i'm stuck here... fuck."

"you did this to me... it's all your fault."

"why are you still doing this?"

"i'm going to kill you, [name]."

"why did you let me die? this is all your fault."

"i regret every second with you."

"time is running out, [name]."

"hate me all you want. he's dead because of you."

"you should be the one here. lifeless... worthless... you're a waste of this body."

"you're wasting this body... give it to me."

"i should be killed on sight."

"this should banish the demon."

"my coming shall herald glorious sorrow."

"i will claim the flesh of man for my own."

"i need you to let me in, sweety."

"don't you love your grandma?"

"it's so cold out here... i'd love to come in... let me in, [name]!"

"let me in you little bitch!"

"i just want to visit you. don't you miss me?"

"awww, what's wrong [name]? don't be afraid of your [relation]!"

"i knew you'd find me... i'm all alone and scared."

"i'm fucking scared! didn't you hear me?"

"help. me. get me the fuck out of here!"

"oh, look at this... who are you now?"

"who could do this to someone? i think you should let me out."

"you'll be here soon."

"ok baby don't worry... it's ok, it's ok. i'll get you out of here."

"no, no, i'm not going!"

"get me out of here, they're gonna kill me!"

"come back! let me out!"

"where am i? what happened? let me go!"

"i'm sorry, this is the only way."

"seriously, [name], why are you hiding? don't be scared."

"let me out you little shit! you'll fucking burn!"

"you can never fix what you've done! see you soon."

"it's nice not to be the one down there for a change."

"did i make it? is it over?"

"it's never really over."

"oh, i've just been waiting... for so, so long."

"[name] isn't here, you fucking idiot!"

"here i am, you worthless old shit! here i am!"

"it's never over, but you survived."

"can i leave? i want to go home."

"you can leave. but once an entity finds you, all the houses of hell will do anything to get back to you."

"i'm sorry, but it doesn't end here."

"from now on, there's always a chance this will happen again, no matter where you are."

"i don't want this! i just want to leave! what do i do?"

"i'm sorry, but there's no going back."

"so, what? you're waging some selfless holy war?"

"it's not a war. it's survival. and i'd hardly call it selfless."

"i wish i could claim to be someone better, suffering hell to save us all."

"i simply want to live another day, just like anyone else."

"i could run and live the rest of my days in fear, or i could learn to face it and keep some semblance of a normal life."

"i don't know what you experienced, but i know it uses the worst parts of you against yourself."

"the more you experience, the more you'll confront the darkest parts of your life."

"i'm offering the tools to take control. the choice is yours. i hope you come back."

"what you've been doing is monstrous!"

"i've said already that i've had to accept everything about myself. just like you do. this is a necessary evil."

"she's down there right now, just suffering for no reason!"

"[name] is not down there! not anymore, she's been gone for years."

"you want to have a chance at life!? it comes at a cost. this cost!"

"you have to make a choice just like i did."

"i've seen many experience what you did. none have survived."

"i've watched them degrade and suffer until they're no longer themselves."

[nico-di-genova]

Hi. Can I kindly request n°44 "If you die, I'm gonna kill you" for strollonso??? But it is Fernando talking to Lance. Thanks <3

Um, yes, absolutely you can. I raise you, Fernando is talking to Lance but Lance is definitely not talking back. 44. "If you die, i'm gonna kill you."

Fernando isn’t sure how they got here.

Mentally, he is still leaning over the edge of Lance’s car, discussing balance settings, with one arm propped on the halo, hand resting on the top of Lance’s helmet, and the other motioning at the wheel.

Mentally, Lance is still laughing at the lewd joke Fernando had made under his breath about control of the car. He can still hear the way Lance’s laughter had come out muffled by the helmet, already far away despite the fact that they were hardly separated by more than a foot.

He isn’t sure what he’s doing here, still in his race suit, nomex stiff with dry sweat, his hands crusted with dried blood. Lance’s blood, he thinks, he knows, but he isn’t really sure.

In his mind, he’s in the Aston Martin garage, watching Lance pull out first and crawl out of the pitlane with one last wave at Fernando as he went. Or maybe it was a middle finger, jokingly thrown and playfully received. Maybe there was no wave at all, maybe Fernando just wishes there was.

His brain can’t seem to catch up to the fact that Lance is lying unconscious in the hospital bed before him. It can’t even catch up to the crash that landed him here in the first place. It’s stuck on muffled laughter through polystyrene.

His hands shake, Fernando can’t stop the tremble.

“You need to change,” Lawrence remarks from where he sits across from Fernando. His suit jacket is thrown over the back of his chair, sleeves of his button-up pushed to his elbows. He holds his son’s hand, careful not to disturb the IV that’s been inserted into the vein there and drips a steady dose of morphine. There’s some of Lance’s blood smeared across his cheek, Fernando feels sick at the sight of it.

“You have his blood on your face.”

Lawrence winces, gives Fernando a once over.

“You have it everywhere.”

The tremble in Fernando’s hands worsens.

“Go. Clean up. I’ll stay with him.”

Fernando thinks about fighting, but he can’t even bring himself to look at Lance’s prone form in the bed, can’t even get past the crusting crimson under his own fingernails and the scent of smoke that seems to linger in the air. He isn’t doing much good. At least Lawrence can touch Lance.

He stumbles to the bathroom attached to the room blindly, washes his hands and face robotically with fingers that do not feel like his own. Watches the pink tinged water run down the drain until it runs clear and then stares at the porcelain until he can force his eyes upward.

The face that stares back at him in the mirror cannot be his own. In the harsh fluorescents his skin appears pale, the circles under his eyes stark. There’s a gash of red still smeared along the underside of his jaw.

Lance blindly reaching for him, trying to say his name around the blood in his mouth, his gloves stained crimson from where he’d tried to staunch the flow of the stuff from his body.

Fernando blinks, the ghost in the mirror blinks back. Through the thin wood of the bathroom door he can hear the steady beep of Lance’s heart monitor, it’s the only reason he doesn’t vomit.

‘You’re okay,’ he can hear himself saying to Lance, ‘you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.’

He tries to say it to the man in the mirror, but the words stick in his throat, along with the bile.

‘You like control, yes? Do not let this car fuck you, that is for me to do.’

Lance’s laughter plays on a loop in his head until he cannot distinguish it from the drone of a flatline, the roar of flames, the way he had screamed when they tore Lance away from him. Wild, primal, unthinkingly reaching for the man even as he was carted away by frantic hands and hurried chatter. Screaming until his voice was hoarse, until the gravel digging into his knees forced him back into his body.

Lance’s blood has soaked through his fireproofs, dried tacky on his skin with the sweat. He tries to pry it from his body like it will reveal something new and untainted underneath. Instead, he ends up on the cold tile with the fabric half over his head and his own tears choking him.

He isn’t sure how long he stays on the floor, only that when he comes out, shirtless and skin rubbed raw from cleaning the blood from his body, there is an Aston Martin sweatshirt waiting for him in his seat. Maybe from the rest of the team waiting in the lobby, maybe pulled from a swag bag someone in PR had been lugging with them. He doesn’t care, he pulls it on and is grateful that it smells like the factory and not gasoline.

“Thank you,” he mutters to Lawrence, who only musters a grunt in response.

The circles under his eyes are worse than Fernando’s, darker, heavier. His grip on Lance’s hand has grown tighter, like he’s trying to force his son back into consciousness by breaking his fingers.

“You next,” Fernando says, motioning at the death grip he’s keeping on Lance’s already bruised hand.

“No. No I- I can’t.”

“He is not waking up soon.”

It sounds harsh, mean, but Fernando only means it as the truth. He’d pulled Lance from the car, before the flames could get to him, seen the steering column pierced through the fabric of his suit and into his intestines. He’d weighed the cost of moving him against the cost of hoping the medics would get to him before the flames did and taken the road he though would let him keep Lance.

He isn’t sure he made the right call.

“I have to stay,” Lawrence states, like if he goes Lance will suddenly cease to be. Fernando knows the feeling. Or maybe it’s that he thinks Fernando will finish the job. As if he meant to push Lance off the track, send him flipping at top speed over the tire wall and into the concrete barrier that held the fence up. Like the blood on Fernando’s hands was something that was still there, something that would never be washed off.

“An accident, Lawrence.” He forces out, “It was an accident.”

“I know.”

“So go wash your fucking face, yes? Before your son wakes up to the sight of his own blood.”

Lawrence looks at him then, finally seeing him, eyes darkening with a hatred Fernando is almost grateful to see. It feels righteous, deserved. It is not the same look Lawrence had first given him when Fernando had signed that contract, lying through his teeth that he would play nice. That he would treat Lance with respect. But Fernando is not the same man who signed that paper.

“You were told to stay. Told not to fight,” Lawrence spits, and finally there is emotion in his voice instead of a dead emptiness.

Fernando remembers thinking fuck that, remember Lance demanding he lose the kiddy gloves, remember how he’d tried to slam on the breaks even at the expense of his own safety. It was a bitter taste of his own medicine, and somehow Lance was still the one in the hospital bed.

The worst crash in decades, he’d heard the news from a room across the hall. Fernando at the center of it all, again.

“I know.”

“Then why the fuck did you?!” Lawrence demands, voice growing, grip on Lance tightening. The heart monitor doesn’t spike, Lance doesn’t twitch.

Fernando finds he does not have an answer. That’s maybe the worst part of it. Lance bleeding out in the gravel all for the risk of P9. For measly points in a championship already lost and bragging rights only between the two of them that they would have wrestled out on the mattress later.

“I don’t know.”

“Stupid,” Lawrence spits.

Fernando doesn’t disagree.

“You want me to go?” He asks instead, because Lawrence is Lance’s father. He’s bandaged scrapped knees and wiped away tears and been there for birthday parties and graduations and the six year old who’d gotten into a kart for the first time. It’s him Lance should wake up to.

If he wakes up, the dark voice in the back of his mind whispers. Fernando tells it to go back to hell.

Lawrence’s jaw ticks with tension. He looks between Lance’s slack face and Fernando’s miserable one, weighs something between them that Fernando can’t see, maybe the cost of Lance’s body in Fernando’s arms. And then he sighs and shakes his head.

“No.”

Fernando breathes.

“No. You don’t have to- Jesus. Just- just stay here and sit with him, yeah?”

Fernando nods.

“I have to call his mother.”

She’d already been halfway to the airport when Lance had gone into surgery. By now she probably would have landed. Soon Fernando will have to give up his seat, wait it out with the rest of the team, pretend like he didn’t know what it sounded like when Lance snored in his sleep or how he looked with sunlight filtering across his face in the morning. Lawrence doesn’t have to gift him this moment alone, but he does, because they both know it’s what Lance would have wanted. He casts one last weary glance at the both of them from the doorway before sighing again and going into the hall.

Fernando stares at Lance’s hand for a moment, wrapped in gauze, index and middle finger splinted together because they’d been shattered by the force of the wheel breaking off in his grip. It takes him a moment to go any higher than that. He deliberately avoids looking at the rise and fall of Lance’s stomach beneath the sheets, knows the stitched together mess of skin and muscle and intestines are bound and wrapped there beneath the white linen like a macabre present.

There’s bruising along Lance’s neck, his chest, mottled and already dark against paper white skin. There’s the tube down his throat, because he’d flatlined in the airlift and they’d had to intubate him. Because he stopped breathing.

Fernando is thankful he hadn’t been allowed in the helicopter. He isn’t sure how he would have responded, isn’t sure how Lawrence stomached it.

There’s bruising around his eyes as well, swelling, pressure of the impact rattling him even with the helmet and the hans. Fernando tries to picture warm brown eyes, amber in the sunlight, crinkling with laughter and glinting with some sharp witted remark. But he closes his eyes and instead all he sees is Lance blinking up at him, already glassy and fading, pupils blown, brown swallowed by wide-eyed and frightened black.

‘You’re okay.’

Hesitantly, he hooks a finger around Lance’s pinkie, traces his thumb along the knuckle. It’s the only part of him that seems safe to touch.

When he opens his mouth, it is an apology that spills out, and then another, until Fernando is sobbing with the words ‘I’m sorry,’ dripping onto the sheets alongside his tears.

Lance does not respond.

“Please,” Fernando begs, the plea unfamiliar on his tongue, tasting of smoke and bile.

“Come back. Wake up. Please. Cariño, I’m sorry, please.”

Outside, through the sliver of a glass pane on the door, he can see Lawrence pacing the hall – phone pressed to his ear, eyebrows furrowed, lips twisted in frustration. It is shockingly similar to the way Lance looks when he’s in the media pen. Annoyance lacing with the overwhelmingly stifling need to get out, away, safe. Fernando thinks, twistedly, that at least he got his wish today. If any cameras come within the radius of the hospital he’s sure Lawrence would be serving them with papers for harassment, maybe would even go as far as to run them over with his car.

“Your father is a bastard,” he says, meaning it only as a compliment, in a way he knows only Lance would understand.

“I think he will force you from your beauty sleep if you do not wake soon, princess.”

He pauses like Lance will answer, or laugh, his only response is the continuing beeping of the heart monitor.

‘Substantial injuries,’ he can hear the doctor in his head, ‘Internal bleeding, swelling, pressure on his brain’ a laundry list of bad, bad and more bad.

‘He will wake up?’

‘There’s a possibility, yes. But also the potential that he doesn’t. It’s too early to say.’

Lance cannot breathe on his own yet, still needs the tube to do it for him. Fernando thinks they are wrong, thinks Lance would hate the feeling of the thing down his throat the same way he hates when clothes are too tight and people too loud.

He thinks of ripping it out.

Instead, he reaches out to brush his finger parallel to the butterfly stitches keeping Lance’s brow together and says, “If you die, I will kill you.”

In his head, Lance laughs.

“So you will not die.”

The heart monitor beeps, Lance doesn’t move, and Fernando waits. Mentally, he is in the Aston Martin garage.

Edit: Good news for those that like angst, there's a part 2 to this!

[cuntry-r0ckst4r]

Claustrophobic

summary- in which you Ethan, Benny, and Sarah all get stuck in one confined space.

tw- claustrophobia, cursing, tbh not really bad.

It's really not that much about the relationship, you can just ignore those parts if you just want one big fluffy group(ish) fic. Sorry this like really sucks, I'm not proud of this at all omg.

established relationship (Ethan x reader)

The nerd hunt. It was a shock to no one that your boyfriend and his friends were geeks, but what was a shock was when they wanted to go hunting for some weird monster geek shit. The only ones that complained were you and Erica. The only difference is you went, she stayed home. Probably going to a party instead. You just wanted to go to have more time with Ethan and hang out with him.

"So where are we even going to?" You ask while getting in the back of Benny's grandma's car. Ethan had gotten in after you.

"I don't know exactly the place's name but it's-" Ethan had started before he was interrupted by an excited Rory.

"To an underground cave!" Rory had exclaimed, "we're going to look if there’s gonna be any mummies in there!"

While Benny and Ethan rolled their eyes, you and Sarah just laughed at the pure excitement from Rory.

"Well I'm going to tell you ahead of time, there is a low chance of finding any mummies in a cave?" you inform him while laughing.

Benny starts the car and has to give it a second before starting your drive there. About 20 minutes into the drive Ethan held your hand, he was definitely nervous about it, hyping himself up the 20 minutes that had passed.

After about an hour of driving we arrived at the cave, that was when I realized exactly how this was going to be. It was a small entrance, meaning it was a tight tunnel.

"Is now a bad time to mention I'm severely claustrophobic?" you asked the general audience of the car while chuckling.

"seriously? we live in a place where vampires, witches, and just monsters are like most common... and you're scared of tight spaces?" Benny says annoyed.

All you could do was roll your eyes at him as Sarah, Ethan, and Rory get out of the car. Ethan helps you out of the car aswell.

Once you all have been walking in the caves for a while, you realize that these halls are actually huge. Until you all see an elevator. An old, tiny, elevator. It was the only other way to go than from where you had come in from, which you wouldn't even remember how to leave.

You all go in on the tiny elevator, once the elevator started shaking you could feel your body going off. You were sweating, clinging onto Ethan's arm, nauseous, shaking, and there was so much weight on your chest that you couldn't breath.

"I can't do this, i told you i cant do enclosed spaces, especially you etha-" you start to yell.

The elevator stops. The doors didn't open. Now you really start panicking. A million words in your head at once, several conversations happening at one time in your mind just to overwhelm you. You wanted to sob, scream, cuss out everyone in the elevator. Except that wouldn't help anything. So you check your phone to see if you have service, of course you don't. You're more than 20 feet underground. Then Benny starts banging on the walls of the elevator.

"If you're a nerd, act like one. That won't help." You yell at benny.

You try to pry open the doors, didn't work. Rory was smashing the open button, but still it wasn't opening.

That's when you had this idea, "hey vampires, what if you took us up to the top of the elevator and got us out of the hole thats already open! Because ya know, super strength, ability to fly, can't die if you fall and what not are good ways to help us out in this kind of situation." You explained as calmly as you could while you still feel like you couldn't breath from the amount of pressure on your chest.

Sarah and Ethan look at you, agreeing with you that we should do that. Meanwhile Rory hadn't payed attention to a single thing you had said just now.

Except they were able to do it successfully, it's also quite safe to say that you were all running out the way you all came out. You and Ethan running hand in hand out.

Once you all made it out of the cave, you and Ethan were the first ones out and you two stood next to the entrance to the cave. Not wanting to block the exit/entrance.

"Are you okay? How are you feeling?" Ethan asks you, trying to catch his breath.

"It's okay, I'm okay." You tell him, hugging him and putting your face into his neck.

He hugs you back. He had tried to help when you started freaking out about the elevator but then it stopped and you all had to figure out what to do to get out. All he did was hold your hand the whole time.

Except it was enough to help you both think straight.

"ugh get a room." Benny said groaning as he saw you two, he and the others were walking slow out of the cave finally.

i do NOT give permission to copy or publish my work onto any other sites, dm me to translate any of it. otherwise there is no given consent for translation of @s3xiel4ss .

hey thats my masterlist!

Finished Writing: Fri May 24, 12:28 AM.

Count: 846 words, 4491 characters, 69 sentences.

[cherrirui-official]

Friendlocke Violet Gijinkas (Part 3/7)

PART 3 RAAAAGH!!! SO SORRY THIS ONE TOOK SO LONG AAAH!!!! But it's here now, yippee!!! And just in time for Christmas too, wowie!

I plan on posting them in order by groups of three, so there's gonna be seven parts in total, all of which I'll be linking here when done vvv

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Four) (Part Five) (Part Six) (Part Seven)

!! These will contain personal headcanons I have for the cast, little fun facts, and also spoilers for Friendlocke Violet (for both the edited vids and the streams) !!

@saltydkart-reblogs

Designs under the cut!

GRACE:

The light scars/ cracks on her body were injuries formed while she was accidentally sent through Turo's time machine. Unlike the paradox pokemon/ miraidon, GrAce's body isn't made of iron or metal, so her body wasn't able to withstand the large amount of tera energy used to power the machine as easily as the paradox pokemon were.

Luckily, she was just barely able to hold out against the time machine's energy until she made it to Turo's lab in the present day. Unfortunately, she can't be sent back because she would literally die if she went through the time machine again. Sooooo she's stuck in the modern era.

Very familiar with Area Zero and the various pokemon that reside down there, but moved out in order to continue producing music as well as familiarize herself with current-day Paldea.

She only vaguely know Clavell back when he was a rebellious teenager, though she didn't know his name. Clavell, on the other hand, was one of her biggest fans back in the 50s-60s.

Funny enough, when she sees "Clive" for the first time, she recognizes him! But not as Director Clavell, she just barely recognizes him as the random teenage fan that would occasionally ask her to sign various GrAce posters he had bought. She is also under the belief that he too, was sent from the past into the present, unaware that he simply just grew up.

Likes doing random poses for absolutely no reason whatsoever.

BRAIDY:

Believes that everything can be solved without violence, but can and will throw hands if need be.

Everyone in Braidy's family greet each other by playfully ramming into one another. So when Peppy and his team were getting chased down by Braidy's family during their journey, they weren't trying to attack them, they just wanted to say hi!

Braidy is really good with kids due to his experience with being the eldest sibling, as he'd often have to take care of his younger siblings.

Mykyie and Braidy shop at the same clothing store.

Speaking of Mykyie, the lighter parts of Braidy's fur appeared only after Mykyie passed...

As of now, he's still an apprentice, but he has great potential to become an all powerful wizard... someday.

CHRISTENE'S:

Artist's note: I couldn't fit their children in the bio sorry girls and gays. I'll probably draw them out later on after I'm finished with everyone else.

Their stomachs are basically voids, so every time they eat the food just disappears, which is why they're ALWAYS hungry.

HIGHLY flammable.

It is speculated that they're poppets, but you don't have any proof of that, do you?

If you listen closely, you can hear soft bell noises every time they walk. It is unknown why this happens, but I believe it is best not to ask.

Aaaaand that's it! I plan on taking a short break from these bc I wanna draw some other stuff. Dw, I'll continue to work on these very soon!

[luciddreamingcrow]

Genshin characters reaction to you bringing a cat home

A/n: I'm not even gonna try to apologize for vanishing out of the earths surface for about 4 months but because today is my blog's first birthday I'm finally writing this fanfiction idea that I had sence I started this blog, caroce enjoy it my beloveds 😙

Characters included: Diluc, Kaveh, Kokomi, Shenhe

Cw: not proofread, we die like Dilucs dad, and mentions of homicidal thoughts in shenhes part

✦Diluc✦

Ok so the moment he saw a tiny kitten loafed in the sofa near the fire place, he knew it was you that brought it in

And you convinced him to let the little guy stay until winter was over because it was freezing outside and would have little chance at survival

Diluc after some convincing agreed to let him stay, but he said that 'the moment spring comes and it's warm outside the cat is going out'

Little did he know that during the little time that the cat was staying in your guys mantion he slowly fell in love with it

And it was just the littlest of things, like the time the little kitten hopped into your guys bed and snuggled itself in-between you and Diluc while cuddling

Or the time it was colder in the house so the kitten got on Dilucs lap and proceeded to purr and make biscuits on his lap because he has a pyro vision and his body runs warmer

And when spring came and it was warm, Diluc didn't forget his promise but he didn't have the heart to do anything so he just let the kitten be

And if you would bring it up to him that sadly it's time to let the kitten go, he'd just pull up excuses like 'oh but the weather is still not that stable yet and it can get cold again really quickly' or something like that

And then little did you know now the cat has been staying with you guys for about a year and now Diluc doesn't dare to let go of your guys cat and loves it with all of his heart

And the best part is that the cat now catches all of the mice and rats that hide around the winery

And one of Dilucs favourite things is watching the cat run around the grape yard and catching crystal fly and bringing them to Diluc as presents

✦Kaveh✦

(For the sake of this fanfic he moved in to your house)

Ok so, similar to Diluc, the first time he saw the kitten it was on the sofa curled up and peacefully sleeping

And after that little guy approached him to give Kaveh a little bump on his leg because he wanted scratches, Kaveh fell in love with it

Yes the two of you would have to work harder to be able to afford the kittens litter box, cat food, toys ect but he didn't mind because it was for his son (yes he calls the cat his son)

This mf WILL get jealous of the cat chooses to cuddle with you rather than him and be sarcastically dramatic about it

Once when he was working on a project the kitten managed to get on too of his shoulder and started playing with the feather that Kaveh has on his head, and whenever the cat is on tall pleases and Kaveh is near the cat WILL try and get that feather from his head to play with

It doesn't matter if that cat has be best toys in the world, Kavehs feather is the superior toy for the cat to play with

✦Kokomi✦

At first she saw them in her secret place where she'd take time to gain energy back, and didn't think you were the one that brought them here but she let them be because they didn't bother her and honestly their presence calmed her down

After a week she brought you in to her secret place to show you the two cats that made a home there and you had to confess to her that you were the one that brought them there

After some talking, you two agreed that the cats can stay but only on this secret place where no one knows

Of course the two cats had the freedom to go to explore watatsumi island but they mostly stuck to exploring the village and sleeping in Kokomis comfort place

Kokomi quickly began to love those cats and loved seeing them play with each other, she would spawn little water fish for the cats to chase around

OMG imagine if Kokomi would summon her jelly fish for the cats to play with

Also Kokomi def gains energy from hanging out with the cats whenever you are not around but one of her favourite things is you two playing with the cats or cuddling while reading and the cats sleeping on top of you two

✦Shenhe✦

To be honest, you didn't know how she'd react to you bringing a pet on the house, but she didn't really mind

But the longer time she and the cat have spent together she became more calm, yes she's calm most of the time but she didn't have as many homicidal thoughts as before

She found out that, that was a great method to calming her down and distracting her from those thoughts and now whenever you are hanging out with eachother she is most definitely bringing the cat along, petting it while she holds it

Whenever she feels those disturbing thoughts plaguing her, she goes to find the cat that you have brought and play with it, pet it or just cuddle with it

Another habit that she had formed is whenever is time to go to bed the cats NEEDS to sleep besides her while purring, it's just the vibrations form the cats purr just sends her to sleep so easily

Overall, even if she doesn't show it to much she is beyond grateful that you brought that cat into her life and doesn't understand how she was able to live without them

[jams-sims]

Last night was a fucking fever dream. I laughed so hard until I cried and I woke up with a massive headache.

But I'm finally able to talk about what the problem is and people have already picked it out. Mainly when it comes to the red team.

They took a group of rper and forced them to play RUST, if you don't know what Rust is. Your YouTube algorithm isn't fucked like mine. It basically a game where no one wins. The whole point is that you build a base you farm materials for your base and you raid other people for their materials. That it's there is no end goal, but people sweat at that game.

An that's what Purgatory is, instead of each team going off to build multi bases, they have one home base. Instead of setting spawn points they only get one spawn point. An when they die their stuff stays on their body for anyone to take just like RUST.

The problem is they want player conflict, and for it to be something different and new unlike the leisurely life they led on quesadilla Island. They want that conflict that beautiful fitmc, where he turns back into the hardcore 2bt2 player and now that just everyone's problem.

I'm specifically going to look at the red team because they decide to put all the Lore heavy people together and they stuck survivalists with non players/builder. Charlie, Jaiden, Baghera are all pretty casual players. An Carre is never coming back after yesterday, if he does hell has frozen over.

Now I can take or leave whether the red team is cursed or not. I'm sitting directly in the middle of yeah it would be too obvious that red is cursed. Cause they legit have admin fucking with Philza. To it would be ironically funny if it was just the red team. Philza being the one to make the team curse cause the narrative has been beating his ass.

Anyway- the first thing that would have to be changed is the system of which people gain point. They want conflict, fighting is the best way to do that. Make it so killing people is gives you more points. But in turn you have to turn up the specialist factor so people don't just go on manhunts. You have to make it so if you are gonna go out into the world to kill. The world has to be beating your ass to make it fair.

This is the only way you can allow survivalist characters such as Philza and Cellbit to survive is by forcing them to make homes and equipment to survive natural disasters and other players. An you gain more by adventuring around as well. Movement should be awarded.

It's no longer race to the top of a volcano to turn in quest. It's now, race to the top of a volcano while it's erupting, to turn in quest to get equipment.

This allows players like Baghera, Jaiden and Charlie to focus on more homestead task. Building, food supply, and mining material. To make it so that if you can't turn in a quest you aren't fucked. I'm assuming the admins want NO working together with other teams. They want them to suffer thus we gotta rearrange with that suffering means.

For instants: If you build a base whether that be underground or not. You can be subject to raids, which means you actually gotta plan and hide your shit. If they find it oh well.

Your base can be destroyed but hard to craft items such as let's say enchanting table and villagers are a no go you can not take them or destroy them. Anything that would destroy a player morale shit like that is a no. We want it to be something you can work back towards and think about how do we make this thing better.

Natural disasters are more common than the minor problems, the your inventory moving on it own is less, and your controls swapped are less. We change that too, every 2 to 3 hours the weather changes. And it stays that way for the next 2 to 3 hours. In game or out would be up to the admins.

Task still exist, global still exist, but now it's a race to the top. The only time you can turn anything in is during a Natural disaster. Once a player picks something up. From their turn-in they become immune to damage certain amount of time. Then it's a free for all but that gives the turn in team time to run.

An once they enter their base they are considered safe. You have earned supplies for your team, immunity from raids and a shit ton of points. That's for the team who turns it in first.

Player can still turn in task and earn suppliers. That supplies is limited but even if your last you still get something.

How do you stop people from camping someone base or Gobal.

Easy, immunity for the team to do turn in first last the whole day until the next day. Where it loses its effect, that gives the team time to move their shit if they so wish or be ready to defend.

Global is even more easy global is locked until it is time and 2 if an admin catches you camping any where near it. You get one tapped don't be a camper.

How to stop people from camping others bases. (I think that just falls under don't be an asshole. An maybe making a shield around the spawn point with an area of effect could also help.)

I didn't want to complain and not give like legit fixs for the problems they have. Cause it's one thing to scream and say stuff is broke and it's another to actually come up with ideas to fix it.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Just a Dream

Inspired by that one scene in IT Chapter 2.

Adamsapple angst below

Content Warning: Violence, blood, gore.

Lucifer looked around the dark room. There was nothing for as far as the eye could see, everything was gray and black.

Turning around, his eyes landed on Adam who was back to him. "Adam?" He called out, the sinner turned to face him looking surprised to see the devil.

"Where in the seven rings of Hell are we?" Adam asked, he started walking towards Lucifer only to smack his face into a glass wall he didn't see. "Ow! The fuck?" He placed his hand on the glass, Adams face creased in bewilderment.

"Adam?" Lucifer came over and placed his hand over Adams on the glass. "I'm not sure where we are."

"Get me the fuck out of here, this isn't funny."

Lucifer looked both ways, the glass seemed to go on forever on either side. "I will, hold on." He tried to summon his power to blast it, but nothing came. "What the-"

The growing sound of static grew in the air. Adam turned to look behind him, his face drained of color. He turned back and started beating on the glass. "Hurry up! This isn't fucking funny!"

"I'm trying!" Lucifer started hitting the glass too, not sure why his powers were failing him. His own blood went cold when maniacal laughter filled the air. "No.... Adam!" Both Adam and Lucifer started pounding on the glass, it only started to crack from the pressure slightly, it was thick and almost seemed tempered.

Black shadowy tentacles started to wrap around Adams body. "Luci, help me!"

"Adam!"

"Don't let him take me!"

Lucifer started throwing his whole body into the glass. "I won't, you're gonna be fine!"

A spiky tendril pierced through Adams back coming out through his chest, red blood splattered on the glass. Adams face was stuck in shock with a twist of pain painted on his features. His jaw fell open, blood came out and dripped down his chin, gold eyes wide and tear filled.

Lucifer watched horrified and helpless. "No! Adam!"

"Luci!" Adam was pulled back into the darkness by the tendrils and everything was quiet for a moment until Adams screams filled the air.

The sound of shoes clicking on the floor. Lucifer's face twisted into a snarl as Alastor came into view, his smile ever present. "You fucker, what did you do?!"

"Oh I think you know." Alastor smiled wider as he flicked the golden band that was once on Adams hand towards the glass at Lucifer. He leaned in, his smile cruel. "So much for keeping him safe."

.

.

Lucifer jolted awake, sitting upright in bed panting. Looking around he noticed he was in his and Adams bedroom. Looking down beside him, his husband slept peacefully, some drool pooling on his pillow.

Lucifer sighed in relief. Just a nightmare, none of that was real. He settled back into bed, his eyes never leaving Adams sleeping face. It might have been a dream, but that didn't mean it didn't bother him.

He would fight Heaven and Hell to keep his loved ones safe, he would never be powerless to save them. Maybe tomorrow that prick Alastor would start something just so he could beat his ass.

Lucifer smiled, he remembered how Adam had beaten the radio demon as an angel and then a few months after he became a sinner he beat him again after that prick challenged Adam to a rematch.

He knew Adam wasn't completely defenseless, but he could still die again for good. The thought made his chest ache.

Gently, he laced his hand with Adams free one that rested on the bed and lightly kissed his knuckles. He finally closed his eyes and drifted off back to sleep.

Better dreams found him this time.