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atoltia · 17 days

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Promise of Wealth

Sylus gave you access to the entirety of his fortune, and yet you keep using it... on him?

In which the MC doesn't really care about his money so much.

Sylus and fem!MC fluff

Disclaimer: I've only been playing the game for less than two weeks so apologies for any mistakes.

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To obtain power, one must have it.

It was a natural truth, one that he diligently followed. It took discipline to hone his instincts, experience to ensure success in his ventures, a raw, natural brutality that served to enhance his ideals and further his reputation not just as the leader of Onychinus, but as a conqueror known throughout the galaxy.

The simple utterance of his name invoked fear. The visage of him exuded wealth, so much so that he could buy himself a decent-sized country if he so wanted.

Sylus was perplexed.

He had all the wealth that he could possibly covet, is still planning to acquire. He owned several multi-million enterprises, resorts, hotels, villas and manors - all the material gains that one could only dream to have and made sure you had access to every single thing the moment the two of you made your relationship official.

He trusted you with his card, he's opened up your own bank account already filled with millions, acquired property and assets in your name. You could get anything that you'd want and he wouldn't bat an eye.

And yet the only purchase you made for yourself in the several months you've been together was a book that costed no more than twelve credits.

His brows furrowed when he saw the credit card reports. There were purchases made by you. Several, even. But the amounts of the transactions were unimpressive, with a few sizable purchases here and there. And he knew, of course he knew, exactly what those big purchases were.

The new leather coat the you had tailor made for him was hanging over his office sofa. The jeweled cuff links that you got for him twinkled prettily against the light of his desk lamp. You replaced his gun holster, saying that his other one was already worn.

He was sure that the twins were sporting new jackets with bulletproof lining seeing as the last ones got torn to shreds in a gun fight two months ago. Even Mephisto's perch in the living room was brand new.

The refrigerator was always stocked with a variety of ingredients that previously weren't in the usual lists, and after a conversation with the chef and the staff, he knew that they weren't the ones getting the groceries in the last six months.

It's not like it upset him that you didn't use his wealth. It was just rather confusing and amusing to a degree. Was this you being stubborn, perhaps? Or was this your way of keeping your independence? Hm, it wasn't like he was preventing you from doing your work. Not at all.

He thought about looking at the purchases from your own card, but then thought against it. From the time you've spent together, he doubted that the results would be any different.

But he could ask.

You weren't difficult to find. At this time of day he could often find you in the living room, curled up on the couch with a book or fiddling with your phone, and today wasn't any different.

Soft music played from the record player next to the sofa as the curtains near the air conditioner rustled. You hand was outstretched, resting on nothing but air as you slept, the book that you were so diligently reading was strewn on the ground.

Sylus breathed out a chuckle as he leaned against the doorframe, just watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, shushing Mephisto when the mechanical companion fluttered his wings a little too hard.

But your training as a hunter wasn't for nothing. Heightened senses, even when asleep, was part of the package Sylus had to accept and fully expected when both of you moved past simply lovers to an official couple.

The flutter of your eyelashes was slight, but there was an alertness to your gaze the moment you awoke, quickly scanning the room without so much as budging any part of your body, and immediately calmed when you realized where you are and who was in the room.

"Mm."

"Hello, sweetie."

From beneath the covers you raised your other arm, reaching towards him when he strode towards you. It would be so easy for him to engulf you in his entirety. It wasn't lost on him that his physicality was so much bigger than you, but it was one of the things that you loved about him - loved at how easy it was for him to just pick you up and hold you, envelop you into his embrace.

"Sylus."

He loved the way you purred out his name, loved the way you just molded in his arms like warmed putty, soft and pliable as you positioned yourself in a more comfortable spot on his lap. He picked up the book from the floor.

"This is the book you bought."

"Yes."

"Why didn't you buy the others?"

You shrugged, pulled the book that hung loosely from his fingers before showing him the cover. "How would I know if the series is good if I don't buy the book first? It's a waste if it sucks."

He looked at you quizzically, smirked. Ruffled your hair.

"Oh, are you afraid to waste my money, sweetie? Fifty credits isn't a sum to be concerned about."

"Still," you pressed, drilling a finger into the spot that you know was ticklish, laughing when he grabbed your arm and bit your finger. "I'm not wasting shit on a mediocre book."

With your hand still in his grasp, he maneuvered you enough to have you be on top of his chest as he took your position on the couch, those long, long fingers of his kneading the dip between your hips. "Is it mediocre?"

"No. It's pretty good, actually."

"Then buy the rest of it."

"What if the third one sucks?"

"Sweetie," he took your chin, had you look into the deep scarlet of his eyes as amusement danced in it. "Just buy it or I'll buy it for you."

The look in your eye was indescribable to him. It was as if you were searching something that she couldn't quite grasp, couldn't quite find. He lightly bit the lip that you jutted out when you pouted.

"Do you not like spending my money?"

"I spend your money."

"Yes, but you spend it on us. Not on you."

Your brows furrowed. "So?"

"Darling," there was resignation on his voice as he flicked your forehead.

You frowned as you sat up, straddled him, your hands splayed on his wide chest. "I don't need anything. You already buy me things."

"And you need not more?"

"Sylus," you dipped down, cupped his cheeks. Kissed the tip of his nose. "I don't buy anything else because you already get me the things I could possibly need and more. So much more."

Those scarlet eyes regarded you as his fingertips ran up and down your back. You knew all too well how cold those eyes could get, how dangerous his hands could be. You knew all to well how easy it would be for him to snap you like a twig. You've seen it many times before, after all.

And yet he looked at you with such warmth right now that if you were a stranger, you would never be able to tell that this was Sylus, leader of Onychinus.

"I'll get you the entire universe if you so wish it."

And you knew, deep in your heart you know, that it was the truth. His truth.

So you told him your truth as well.

You straightened your position on his lap, careful to not... excite any other part of him as you reached from under your shirt, pulled out the necklace that he gave you all those months ago.

It was a simple little thing. A sizable ruby lovingly enveloped by two crow's wings made of polished silver. It was one of the first things he gave you when you accepted him, when you accepted his love and his force of will. When you wore it, you showed him that you accepted all of him, including his shadows, including his pain, including the violence that followed him wherever he went.

No matter how much glitter he decided to get you, all the shiny things he draped on you, you always came back to this necklace. It was a promise to him, as much as it was a promise to you.

"You gave me stability," you said to him as you rubbed circles on his muscled torso. "I won't have to worry about making rent anymore or if I'll have enough money to buy food for the next week. You gave me a home, you gave me companionship, you gave me warmth." And with every single gift of his, you tapped his lips. "Do you drive me insane? Yeah, you do." A kiss to his cheek, his lips. "But I'm sure I drive you insane much, much more."

Stillness descended upon you both, the music from the gramophone the only thing to indicate that time did not, in fact, stop.

"You gave me family, Sy."

Those large hands of his moved, prying your fingers from his chest as he slipped them between your fingertips before pulling you closer, gently, every so gently, peppering your neck with tiny little nips. He sighed.

"You will be my undoing."

You smiled, nuzzled into the crook of his neck. "As you will be mine."

So there you two laid, heartbeats and breaths syncing, his one hand stroking your back as he lulled you back to sleep.

And thought it probably wasn't the time to tell you that he bought a tropical island in your name.

---

still trying to grasp how I wanna write him so it might take a bit more practice haha I do have more sylus fluff planned. feel free to send ideas tho (preferably angst, hurt/comfort, fluff. i don't really like writing smut that much)

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #love & deepspace #love & deepspace sylus #love and deepspace sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus fluff #sylus x reader #sylus x mc #not proofread lmao goodluck #my writing #atoltia writes in deepspace

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spiderclothing · 1 year

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Spider jacket is designed another men product in black color.

#spider-gwen kids clothing #snowboard clothing spider #spider silk clothing bulletproof #hot spider gwen cosplay costume jacket outfit clothing coat hoodies

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pearlsmith25 · 2 years

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Bullet Proof Jacket Market Size Stakeholders Focus on Growth Strategies up to 2030

Bulletproof jackets, also known as ballistic vests, are pieces of protective clothing that are designed to provide ballistic protection against firearms. They are worn by law enforcement officers, military personnel, and others who may be at risk of gunfire.

Bulletproof jackets typically consist of layers of woven or laminated fibers such as Kevlar or Spectra, which are able to absorb and disperse the energy of a bullet, reducing its velocity and impact. In addition, some jackets may also include ceramic or metal plates to provide additional protection against high-velocity rounds.

It's important to note that no bulletproof jacket is completely impenetrable, and different jackets may offer varying levels of protection against different types of firearms and ammunition. The National Institute of Justice (NIJ) sets standards for the performance of ballistic-resistant body armor, which manufacturers must meet in order to be certified.

It's also important to ensure that a bulletproof jacket fits properly, as a poorly fitting jacket may not provide adequate protection. It's recommended to consult with a trained professional when selecting and fitting a bulletproof jacket.

Major players operating in the global bullet proof jacket market include Honeywell International, Inc, E.L Dupont DE Nemours & Co., U.S. Armor Corporation, Wenzhou Start Co Ltd., MKU Limited, EnGarde, Infidel Body Armor, Point Blank Enterprises, Inc., MARS Armor, Armourshield Ltd, and others.

Bulletproof jackets, also known as body armor or ballistic vests, are specialized clothing designed to protect the wearer from bullet and shrapnel projectiles. Here are some of the benefits of wearing a bulletproof jacket:

1. Protection from firearms: Bulletproof jackets can protect against firearms, including handguns, shotguns, and rifles. The jacket's material is designed to absorb the energy of the bullet and disperse it over a larger area, reducing the impact on the wearer's body.

2. Increased safety: Bulletproof jackets are particularly useful for individuals working in high-risk jobs such as law enforcement, military personnel, and security guards. Wearing a bulletproof jacket can help reduce the risk of injury or death in dangerous situations.

3. Lightweight and comfortable: Modern bulletproof jackets are made with lightweight materials that provide protection without adding significant weight or discomfort to the wearer.

4. Versatile: Bulletproof jackets can be worn under normal clothing or as a standalone garment. They come in a variety of styles and sizes to fit different body types and protection levels.

5. Durability: Most bulletproof jackets are designed to withstand wear and tear and can last for several years with proper care and maintenance.

6. Affordable: While the cost of a bulletproof jacket varies depending on the level of protection and features, they are generally more affordable than other protective gear such as helmets and gas masks.

Overall, wearing a bulletproof jacket can provide peace of mind and protection in high-risk situations. It is important to note that while bulletproof jackets can reduce the risk of injury or death, they do not provide complete protection and are not a substitute for caution, training, and situational awareness.

The market for bulletproof jackets has grown significantly in recent years, driven by a range of factors including increasing violence and crime rates, rising military and law enforcement spending, and growing awareness of personal safety and security.

Additionally, advances in material technology have made bulletproof jackets lighter, more comfortable, and more affordable, making them more accessible to a wider range of customers. This has led to an increase in demand from civilians, including journalists, private security personnel, and individuals looking to protect themselves and their families.

Geographically, North America is the largest market for bulletproof jackets, followed by Europe and Asia-Pacific. The report also notes that the COVID-19 pandemic has had a significant impact on the market, with supply chain disruptions and reduced government spending on defense and law enforcement affecting demand and growth in some regions.

Overall, the bulletproof jacket market is expected to continue to grow in the coming years, driven by ongoing security concerns and advancements in material technology.

#jacket #bulletproof

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maidenofcrows · 8 months

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I choose to believe that when Jesper learns how to better handle his fabrikating capabilities, his first big project is a jacket for Inej. One to mimic the qualities of a kefta (bulletproof, fireproof, etc), but better suited for pirating. Because that’s his bestie and he worries about her and their friendship is so important to me

#six of crows #jesper fahey #inej ghafa #crooked kingdom #grishaverse #leigh bardugo #crow brain

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alex9mm · 2 years

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Bulletproof vest definition

A bulletproof vest is a protective garment worn to stop or reduce the projectile ballistic and kinetic force from penetrating the body. It typically consists of layers of high-tech materials such as Kevlar and Dyneema for soft armor panels or ceramics ,Dyneema and steel for hard armor . The effectiveness of a bulletproof vest depends on various factors, including the distance from the shooter the type and caliber of weapon used, the vest's composition and thickness, and the wearer's body size and posture.

Dyneema is a type of ultra-high molecular weight polyethylene (UHMWPE) fiber that is often used in the production of body armor and ballistic materials. Dyneema is known for its high strength-to-weight ratio, making it a popular choice for use in bulletproof materials.

When used in body armor, Dyneema is typically combined with other materials, such as aramid fibers or ceramic plates, to create a composite material that provides protection against a wide range of threats, including bullets from firearms.

Dyneema is also used to create other types of ballistic materials, such as Dyneema Shield, a lightweight and flexible material that is used to create bullet-resistant inserts for backpacks, briefcases, and other personal protective items.

It is important to note that the level of protection provided by Dyneema materials can vary depending on the specific product and the threat it is designed to protect against. It is recommended to consult with a knowledgeable professional or consult product specifications for the most accurate information on the protective capabilities of Dyneema materials.

Ballistic Steel AR 500

Ballistic steel is a type of steel that is used in the construction of body armor. Ballistic steel is known for its high hardness and toughness, making it an effective material for stopping bullets and other projectiles.

When used in body armor, ballistic steel is typically used in conjunction with other materials, such as ceramics or polyethylene fibers, to create a composite material that provides enhanced protection against a wide range of threats.

Ballistic steel plates can be used as standalone armor plates, or they can be added to soft armor to provide additional protection against high-powered rounds. Ballistic steel plates are also often used in military and law enforcement applications where a high level of protection is required.

It is important to note that the level of protection provided by ballistic steel plates can vary depending on the specific product and the threat it is designed to protect against. It is recommended to consult with a knowledgeable professional or consult product specifications for the most accurate information on the protective capabilities of ballistic steel plates.

#ballistic steel #ballistic shield #kevlar helmet #dyneema helmet #ballistic vest #bulletproof vest #bulletproof shirts #bulletproof jacket #bulletproof t shirt

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tojisun · 9 months

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i just know and i feel it in my little heart. bimbo reader collects sonny angels. maybe she’s even made them little outfits and says one is simon and one is her. i feel like she’s the type to sew a little pocket on his tactical clothes so a little part of her is always with him 😭

HONEY OH MY GOD HONEY THIS IS ADORABLE?? THANK U FOR THE VISION BECAUSE SHE ABSOLUTELY DOES!! got a full collection and a mounted shelf for the lil cherubs n all thattt 🥹🫶🏼 god what a cutie

just imagine how excited you were when you first started collecting them and simon’s a little confused but he gives you his card anyway when you tell him you want to order more.

“they all have the same face, sweets,” he says, bending over to get a clearer view of your display case to see the little things. some have full outfits, while some are almost bare except for their hats, but even then – even with their different skin tones and eye colours and costumes – simon can’t shake off the oddity of seeing a singular expression from an intensive collection. “i don’t get it.”

then, his eyes catch onto a unique set. these two don’t have a plastic-style outfits and are, instead, decked out in little sewn clothes. one’s a wearing a pink dress, sparkly and made of laces, while the other one’s in a basic tactical gear – dark jumper, dark pants, a grey vest that’s fashioned to look like a bulletproof vest – and… a balaclava?

huh. that almost looks like-

“it’s us!” you chirp and simon, well, his heart quivers.

“yeah?” he asks, unable to look away at the little things, feeling so choked up at the affection and love that’s slamming against his ribs.

you hum in reply before your hand, slim and bejewelled, juts out to pluck the two of the dolls from the stand. simon straightens up and turns to face you at your beckoning.

“made ‘em ‘cause i missed you,” you mutter, batting your lashes up at him in a shy manner. you snagged your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling in anxiousness, and simon simply melts.

“oh, lovie,” he croons as he cups your jaw with his palm, his lungs constricting when you instantly nuzzle into his hold. “they’re perfect. y’r perfect.”

he murmurs his thanks when you give him the doll that’s fashioned to look like you, gentle in his touch and reverent as he slides it into the chest pocket of his jacket.

“there she is,” simon murmurs, unaware of how his actions are making you tremble with love. “safe and sound by my heart.”

he chokes in surprise when you throw yourself at him, climbing him with experienced grappling, before cupping his cheeks and pulling him in for a kiss.

well. simon’s not complaining, that’s for sure.

you bring simon-sonny around when you go out with your friends, plopping it beside your cocktail drink or beside your lil cup of ice cream, before asking your friend to snag a picture of you and the cherub to send to simon (who’s currently deployed).

to: simmy <3

us!!!! 💖🩷 <

and simon responds with a picture from his end, just a little selfie, almost blurry, the angle just enough to show simon looking up at the camera and the little sonny that’s perched inside his chest pocket – the one you diy-ed yourself.

from: simmy <3

> us :)

CRYING THIS IS TOO CUTE!!! RAHHHHH nonbc im so sorry i rambled again 😭 i just. i have sm lil figurines (not specifically sonny) and i just love thinking about a s/o who cares sm they indulge u :’>

#suns.hc #honey <3 #bimbo!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ask #suns #I LOVE THESE TWO DORKS SM WHYRE THEY HEALING MY RELATIONSHIP ISSUES

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crappymixtape · 8 months

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because of you • part two

PART I • PART III • PART VI • PART V • EPILOGUE // REQ -> @sattlersquarry ❝ an enemies to lovers fic with Steve? 💙 maybe they have to put aside their differences to fight upside down stuff and realize they actually have a lot in common 👀 • 18+ | ( 3.3k – little bit of king!steve, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, enemies to idiots in love, steve x reader )

B E C A U S E O F Y O U • P A R T T W O 🎶 theatre, etta marcus

❝ IS IT EASIER WHEN YOU DON’T HAVE TO START AGAIN? WHEN YOU DON’T WANNA MAKE AMENDS? ❞

‘Stealing a Winnebago’ had been easier than you’d assumed, but the getaway execution went exactly like you thought it would. Absolute disorganized chaos and the way Steve peeled out of the trailer park dumped you into Robin’s lap for the first mile. Made you even more skeptical of whatever half-assed plan these people had frankensteined together and now? You found yourself browsing the clothing section of The War Zone.

What in the hell were they thinking coming here anyway? From Eddie’s retelling of what happened under Lover’s Lake it sounded like not one of them knew anything about hand-to-hand combat, let alone guns. Couldn’t even land a punch, but thought they could handle this? Walls of rifles on display, rounders full of bulletproof gear and cases upon cases of bullets and god, you wanted to leave.

“Hey,” Nancy’s voice pulled your attention away from the tactical vests you were staring at, her eyes wide and earnest as she looked over at you. “If I go over to the counter, you gonna be okay?”

“Oh, totally,” you lied. “Yeah, was gonna go look over here anyway,” and you thumbed over your shoulder at more vests.

“Okay, good.”

She gave you a small Nancy-Wheeler-smile and left you there alone in a sea of camouflage. In the middle of a store you’d never have set foot in before all this and making you second guess yourself. Second guess what was seemingly more and more a stupid decision to go along with all of this and you huffed a sigh in frustration.

“Should’ve stayed in the trailer,” you grumbled under your breath, fighting the urge to just walk out, but apparently you weren’t the only one wandering around all the puke green clothing.

“Huh, didn’t know you had good ideas.”

The sound of Steve’s voice made your hands ball into fists, nails pressing half moons into your palms.

“Do you ever have anything nice to say?” you sneered and he had the audacity to be so causal. Didn’t even look up from the tactical vests he was flipping through and tossed one into his cart.

“Not to you I don’t.”

Anger rose in your chest like a pot boiling over, so hot it made your cheeks burn as you glowered over at him.

“What’s your problem?”

“Don’t have one.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yep,” and still he didn’t look at you. Picked a bomber jacket off the rack and piled it on top of his vest and it was the last straw.

Stalking over to his side of the rounder you got right up in his face, dug a finger into his chest and said, “Liar.”

His eyes flickered at your accusation, sardonic smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he looked down at you and warned, “Don’t say things you can’t prove, Princess.” And he leaned into your finger. Waited for you to fold. Tsked at your attitude and the sound of it triggered a memory so strong you felt like you’d been sucker punched.

Your second ever interaction with Steve Harrington happened the week before summer break.

You heard it while you were walking back to school from grabbing lunch at the diner. A high, sharp whistle followed by car horn and then—

“Owwww, damn baby!”

And you recognized the voice right away.

Tommy Hagan. Leaning out the passenger window of Steve’s BMW. Wolf-whistling at you and being a dick and you tried to ignore them, but then they were pulling up next to you and slowing way down.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Tommy purred at your back, your mouth twisting into a scowl at the sound of Eddie’s nickname on his tongue. “You need a rid–” he started to ask, but his question cut short when you turned around.

Mouth dropped open in shock for a split second as he realized who you were, Tommy quickly recovered and started to laugh. That obnoxious, hyena-like laugh that made you want to punch him and he smiled and whistled again.

“Shit, Stevie! Who knew the freak had an ass on her!”

“You kiss Carol with that mouth, Tommy?” you shot back, Steve stifling a snicker from the driver’s seat.

“Bet you could do for a kiss, baby,” Tommy tsked, pouted his lips at you and grinned, “Always so damn sour.”

“Yeah? Wanna find out why?” you threatened and it made Tommy grin even wider. Shark-like. Predatory.

“Park it, Stevie,” Tommy didn’t bother looking at his friend, eyes locked on you as he opened the passenger door and jumped out of the car while it was still moving. Walked right up and crowded over you, eyes narrowing as he leaned in, “And what if I do?”

Your stomach lurched, heart leaping into your throat as you stood your ground. You didn’t think he’d take the bait, but you also didn’t shy away. God, you wished Eddie was there. Tilting your chin up in defiance you glared him down.

“Tommy, c’mon man. Just leave it,” you heard Steve’s voice from over Tommy’s shoulder, tinged at the edges with desperation as he ran up on the two of you, but Tommy couldn’t have cared less.

“Well? What’re you gonna do about it, toots?” Tommy pushed again, toes of his shoes knocking against yours as he stepped even closer, towering over you and it hit you like a ton of bricks how in over your head you were.

“Tommy, just leave–”

“I didn’t ask you, Harrington!” Tommy snapped and you took the opportunity.

Grabbing a fistful of his shirt in your hands, you yanked Tommy down into you and drove your knee into his crotch as hard as you could.

“Oh, fuuuuck,” he choked out, folded in half and hands covering his junk as he dry heaved and you took a big step back.

“Coward,” you turned and hurled the word at Steve and watched it land heavy as his face shifted. Brows pinching together and mouth dropped open, but nothing came out as he struggled to say those two little words. I’m sorry. To tell you he wasn’t like his friend, but his silence betrayed him.

“You bitch,” Tommy grunted at you as he tried to straighten up, one hand still over his crotch.

“Don’t move! I’ll–I’ll get you expelled!” you threatened and it made him laugh. A mean, mirthless thing.

“No fuckin’ way. My mom’s on the school board, who’s gonna take your side?”

And you looked back at Steve for a split second, silently asking him to step in and do something, but he stood frozen in place. Still unable to go against his ‘best friend’ and what little belief you had left in him was shattered.

You were done with Steve Harrington.

Shaking your head, you fought back the tears burning at the corners of your eyes and ran up the path to the cafeteria doors. Disappeared behind them with a loud, metallic slam! and left Steve alone to drown in the deafening silence.

Don’t say things you can’t prove, Princess.

It was like no time had passed, like you were still there in that parking lot with Tommy towering over you and tsking at you just like Steve was doing now, but this time you didn't run away.

“Don’t call me that!” you shoved at his chest and he stumbled back a step.

“Don’t call me a liar!”

“All you do is lie, Harrington! Your entire life was built on lies,” you could see his pulse fluttering against his neck. Watched his jaw tick as he clenched down on the words he wanted so badly to throw at you, but you didn’t give him a chance. “Why are you even here? You don’t give a shit about Eddie. You don’t give a shit about anyone, you’re–”

“Enough!” you flinched as his shout drew the attention of a couple older guys looking at the hunting gear. “You don’t know anything about me, okay? Not a god damn thing,” and the second part was quieter, but they way he held your gaze after punctuated it heavy.

He turned away from you, hastily pushing his cart back toward the cashier counter and walked out the double doors, but you weren’t about to let him have the last word.

“Hey, I’m not done!” you shouted after him across the parking lot. Sharp and biting and it made him spin back around, arms flung out at his sides in exasperation.

“Oh, yeah? Fine. What else you got?”

“Well, for one, I’m not going to sit here while you lord around like King Steve. This isn’t high school. No one here gives a shit about any of that.”

He squeezed his eyes shut at his old nickname. Sucked in a breath and let it out slow to try and steady himself.

“I’m not like that anymore.”

“Seriously? Do you hear yourself? You’ve been a dick to me since I set foot in Max’s trailer! And honestly? I’m not surprised! You think I don’t remember all the shit you put me through, put us through in school?” you shot back and he opened his eyes to glare over at you.

“Like I said, Princess–”

“I said don’t call me that!”

“–you don’t have any idea what this is. What we’re up against. None. You’re in over your head.”

“Okay? And what, I’m supposed to sit here on my hands and say, ‘It’s fine! Steve Harrington and all his little friends will fix this’?? You’re out of your mind!”

“And you think you can?” he shot back and your heart rate thrummed heavy in your ears.

“You know, Eddie says he trusts you now, but hell if I will. No fucking way,” and as you turned and cut past him back to the Winnebago he had to jog to keep up.

“Hey! Eddie almost killed me! With a fucking beer bottle!”

You huffed a laugh and kept walking, shaking your head at the accusation and incredulous at the lengths he was going to prove his point.

“Why should I believe you?” you called over your shoulder, “You’re probably just gunning for a headline: Steve Harrington, Hero of Hawkins!”

“Headline?? I–are you kidding me? You think I’d do all this for a headline??”

And finally you stopped at the bottom step of the Winnebago and Steve seized his chance.

“You really think I’m that superficial?” he shot at your back, but you didn’t turn around. Didn’t even acknowledge him and he spent what little patience he had left. “Hey! I’m talking to you!”

But you were already gone. Frozen in place with the world growing dark. Tree line ahead of you blurring. Unfocused and liquid like water and the ground swam under you as a voice echoed in your mind.

I see you.

The sound of Steve still talking behind you turned to fuzz, crackled like radio static and faded away into ear-splitting silence. Deafening and swallowing you whole and then you felt it. The ground falling out from underneath you and you were drowning in the dark and the voice that echoed in your mind pulled you even deeper.

Resisting will only make it worse.

❝ AND I NEVER HAD A TASTE FOR LIARS OR THE UNIQUELY UNINSPIRED ‘CAUSE I DON’T NEED TO BE DESIRED ❞

Steve glared daggers at your back. Anger hot and fuming and fueled by the fact that you had the nerve to ignore him and god, he wanted to prove you wrong.

“Are you trying to piss me off? Cos its work–” but the words died in his throat as he came around to face you. “Oh. Oh, shit,” with a quick glance over your shoulder he saw everyone else finally coming out of the store and he didn’t wait to call for help.

“Munson!! Eddie!” Steve yelled over your shoulder at your best friend before grabbing your shoulders in his hands and squeezed at them. Leaned down to try and meet your unfocused, far away gaze and when none of it worked he felt his chest grow tight.

Not again.

“Hey, hey! Look at me!" panic clawed its way up his throat as he shook your shoulders, "Stay with me! Munson–hurry up!”

Your eyes were glazed over, tears gathering at the corners as your whole body started to tremble. Breathing stuttered and caught in your throat. Lips parted and trying to pull air in, but it wasn’t enough and Steve felt his hand twitch. Wanted to press it to your cheek to try and ground you, reach you and bring you back, but then Eddie was finally at your side and shoving Steve out of the way.

“Sweetheart! Can you hear me? Shit, shit, shit. What happened?? Honey? Look at me!” Eddie cradled your face in his hands. Did what Steve couldn’t. Voice ratcheted up, his usual low timbre a high pitched thing driven by fear and hearing it doused any remaining anger that had settled into Steve’s chest and replaced it with something else.

With helplessness. Regret. Remorse.

With the slow realization that everything he’d just said to you wasn’t worth it. Remembered how Nancy had yelled at him, just like you, outside of the gym. You’re bullshit! And his throat squeezed with guilt for messing it all up again because he was bullshit. He was a liar and you were right. Had he learned nothing?

He looked at you, your face contorted with fear, and he felt something new flicker within him. A feeling blooming at the pit of his stomach. One he was so certain couldn’t possibly exist when it came to you, but as he stood there watching Eddie try to shake you back from the dark he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Steve, help me!” tears cut down Eddie’s cheeks as he called to him and pulled him hurtling back to Earth. Desperate. Pleading. Begging him to do something and it shook Steve back into action.

Heart pounding in his chest, adrenaline coursed through Steve's body and fought off the fear that had threatened to trap him in choke hold.

“Max, gimme your Walkman!” he shouted over your shoulder.

The rest of the group had started running back to the Winnebago as soon as they’d heard yelling and when Steve asked for the cassette player, Max knew time was running out.

“Shit,” she hissed under her breath and broke into a sprint, scrambling to untangle the headphones from around her neck as she hurried to get to you. “Here! It’s still Kate Bush, is that–”

“Doesn’t matter–Munson get these on, hurry!” Steve, snatched the Walkman from Max and crammed it into Eddie’s outstretched hands.

“Please, please, please,” fell from Eddie’s lips, desperate, praying that this would work as he fitted the headphones on and pressed them against your ears, “Please.”

Blinking heavy, you strained your eyes against the black. Against the suffocating dark you suddenly found yourself in. The stand of vivid, green ash trees lining the parking lot replaced by gnarled branches, dark and leafless. Bright yellow buttercups snuffed out by thick, wet vines that snaked their way across the ground under your feet.

You weren’t in the parking lot of the War Zone anymore, not really, and as you breathed in the sickly, ashen air your heart stopped in your chest.

The Upside Down.

“Eddie? Eddie!” you shouted into the dark, red lightening cracking the sky in two, and when no one answered you knew you were utterly alone.

Panic gripped you like a vice as you thought of Chrissy. Of Fred and Patrick and dread filled your stomach. Utter hopelessness and grief and when you whipped around to run you felt something tangle around your leg. Wrapping up, up, up and pulling you down, down, down.

You braced for it, ready to break your fall with your hands, but you never hit and instead found yourself lifting into the air. Unhinged laughter filling your ears as more vines snaked around your arms and legs and you swore you were going to be sick.

It was

Him.

“Why isn’t it working?? God dammit, work!” Eddie was yelling at the Walkman, his composure unravelling as Chrissy’s last moments flooded his mind. “Is she gonna die? She can’t die!” he pleaded and his voice cracked, a sob caught in his throat, “Please don’t let her die!”

“Hey hey, hey! Get a hold of yourself. That’s not gonna happen, okay? It’s gonna work,” Steve gripped Eddie’s shoulders, looked him in the eye and tried to reassure him, but when he glanced over at you he knew he couldn’t make that promise. “Please work,” he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Where are you going? You can’t leave. Not yet.

Vecna’s voice was everywhere. Flooding every part of you and you feared you would never feel joy again. Would never escape this. Would be stuck here forever screaming into the void, hanging on Vecna’s every whim.

I would like very much to show you where I’m going. Please, take a seat.

And the vines yanked you down, squeezed tight around your wrists and legs and held you fast against the ground, rocks digging painfully into your back.

“Please, let me go!” you pleaded into the dark. “Please, I–” but your mouth went dry as a shadowy figure appeared through the ash. Coming closer and closer in the dark with each heavy step and when it finally stopped, feet at your head, your blood ran cold.

Wet, sinewy skin. Muscles exposed and stretched taut. Eyes that pierced your mind and knew every single one your thoughts. Knew all the dark things spiraling there and made them worse. Clawed at you with spindly, protruding hands and long, dagger-like claws and suffocated you with the smell of something rotten.

Of decay.

Of death.

Reaching a hand down, Vecna held it over your face, inches away from touching you as you struggled against your restraints, but they constricted tighter with your every move.

“Please,” you were crying openly now, tears cutting paths through the ash that had settled on your cheeks, but he ignored you.

I want you to tell your friends, I want you to tell them everything you see. Everything I show you.

“No, please!”

Tell them!

“No, I can’t–”

Tell them everything!

And then your head felt like was being cleaved in two. White hot light fracturing the black sky into thick shards and your screams were the only thing you could hear as Vecna pried open your mind and poured into you his vision for the future...

Hawkins in ruin.

Four gashes in the earth. Cavernous. Hot and angry and full of fire.

Your family. Lying scattered across your lawn. Motionless and still and limbs bent wrong.

Tell them!

Your friends hanging in the air just like Chrissy, Fred, Patrick.

Eyes empty, slack-jawed and lifeless, bones snapped like twigs.

Tell them!

Eddie and Robin and Nancy and Steve and–

“NO!” you screamed, the sound pulled painfully from your lungs as you felt your legs give way and collapsed into yourself.

“Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa–”

Steve scrambled to grab hold of your shoulder and barely caught you before your bare knees hit the pavement.

You heard birds chirping. Sunlight filtering through the backs of your eyelids as you kept them squeezed shut, but the air was clean. Smelled fresh and as you slowly opened your eyes you realized you weren’t choking on ash anymore.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Steve was still holding onto you, your hands pressed into his thighs as you braced yourself, the feeling of nausea overwhelming.

“I saw him,” you whispered, only Steve could hear you and you started to cry.

“Him?” Steve asked unnecessarily, glancing up at Eddie. Hoping, no praying, if he asked maybe you’d give a different answer. One that wouldn’t involve death and the end of the world and everything hinging on this stupid fucking plan, but he knew.

Everyone knew.

Eyes glued on their feet. Arms folded over their chests and uneasy with the weight that had settled over the group.

“Vecna.”

[ NOTE: THIS IS PART TWO OF A – POSSIBLY – FIVE PART SERIES, PART FOUR AND FIVE TO COME SOON ]

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

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bulletproofbanditsorbust · 5 months

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Bulletproof.

ref pic (suggested by the lovely @arnold-layne ) under the cut

#bulletproof bandits #oc: russell #if you ever thought that russell kinda looks like gerard way. well. now you have the proof that you're not crazy #i'm trying to experiment with a slightly different style with this one #like more realistic #and also trying to add highlights instead of just shadows which was so hard on his hair for some reason #also!! russell's jacket is supposed to be a classic leather one but i wanted to add some details that makes it look like a bomber jacket #to make it more similar to gerard's #anyway lmk what you think <3 i honestly still dont hate it yet

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glossysoap · 10 months

Text

crescents in his skin ; soap mactavish. 1 of 3

or alternatively titled, ‘moronic wolfy claim’. the prequel to my new werewolf soap mini fic.

summary: you and soap were inseparable, usually. at least until a few months ago when he got injured on a mission. ever since then, he hasn’t been able to even be in your vicinity. maybe it has something to do with his newfound strength. or the way you could swear his eyes shone amber when he was angry.

tags: pov shifting but it’s easy to tell which pov is which don’t worry, future werewolf soap - he hasn’t been turned yet, fem reader, smut, cum play, minor degradation, major praise kink, boot riding, perv soap, best friends to mates lovers, possessive soap, perv soap, yearning, misunderstanding, perv soap, not actually unrequited love. did i mention perv soap?

notes: gaelic is in bolded italics, english translation is right after it in non bolded italics. other than that, fantasies are in italics (though it’s easy to tell either way).

word count: 7,800

If anyone had to pick a word that describes you and Soap, it would be inseparable.

Always attached at the hip. Talking each others ear off, even about the most mundane of things. The two of you would always be seen laughing with each other, your eyes bright and crinkled at the edges as he whispers some cheeky joke into your ear.

Everything that he showed towards everyone else, was amplified ten fold for you.

He would always be touching you in some way. Whether it was on your shoulders, on the small of your back, or enveloping your smaller hand in his — his warm hands would always be on you in some way.

Of course, he was touchy with everyone. It was in his nature. He would clap a hand on Ghost’s shoulder when walking up behind him, or pulling him into a hug after a close call.

All of that was nothing compared to how he was with you.

If you were shivering, you wouldn’t even be able to grab your own jacket before he was taking his own coat off and wrapping it around you. You would feel your cheeks heating up under his intense gaze as he adjusts the collar of the coat, his thumbs grazing the skin of your jaw.

Whenever you were riding along with the task force in the Hum-vee, he would always choose the seat right next to you. If the vehicle came to hard stop, his muscular arm would dart out in front of you to shield you. Your eyes would widen as you looked down at his arm pressed against your stomach, keeping you safe in your seat.

Every sentence that dropped from his mouth and hit your ears was always accompanied by a pet name. Not a platonic one like ‘lad’ or ‘brother’ that he reserved for Ghost or Gaz, far from it.

The pet names he had reserved for you were far less platonic and far more.. romantic.

Nearly every pet name would be murmured against your skin, whether it be his lips against your forehead or on your cheek. Or against your ear as he whispers, “Ye’ did great on that mission, bonnie.” Always followed up by a kiss on the cheek.

“Ye’ alright, darlin’?” He would ask you after a close call, cupping your cheeks and eyes scanning your face for any scrapes or cuts. His big calloused hands holding your face so tenderly made you feel safer than any bulletproof vest ever could.

“Yer shiverin’ love! Here, take my jacket.” He would almost order, leaving no room for protest as he was already shedding his own tactical coat and draping it over your shoulders. Your mouth would be open, about to assure him that you were alright when he adjusted the collar of the jacket. Letting his thumbs graze your neck and jaw as he adjusted the fabric, eyes scanning your face from pure instinct. His cerulean eyes would be burning into your face, committing every detail to memory. How your eyes were widened in a mix of shock and nerves, your brows raised. How you bit your lip when you were focusing on something, and how that always made him yearn to take your lip between his teeth and nip at it.

Bonnie. Darling. Love. Those nicknames were specifically reserved for you and you only. Far from platonic.

Any one of your features would send him spiraling — making his heart pound, and his jeans tighten with a familiar tent.

Your eyes.

The way they would automatically search for him when you entered a room, always instinctively searching him out. The way your lips would quirk up at the corners in a shy smile when your eyes find him.

Good pup, he would think.

It’s almost like your brain already knows you belong with him, friendly boundaries be damned.

The way your eyes peer up at him, all wide and innocent. Always giving him your full attention, treating him with a tunnel vision of sorts as you waited for any order or call.

A single look at your eyes would send his mind into various fantasies of you, in various positions and situations.

You occupied every inch of space in his mind, at any given moment.

Just like you did right now, while he was working out in the gym on base.

His mind was flooded with images of you in compromising positions and conjured up fantasies as he began training.

He imagines your eyes all glossed over with tears, pupils blown wide with lust. Images would flood his brain of the two of you camped out in the Hum-vee, shrouded in the dark of a stakeout. Mission objective already long forgotten.

He imagines you sitting in the backseat with him, with your pants pulled down to your knees and your legs spread open. Your shirt slipped up to reveal your stomach. His tan arm snaking down your abdomen, warm and hairy against your cool skin. You could see every intricate detail of his tattoo on his forearm as his hand slipped beneath your panties. You could only stare down at his descending hand and gasp as he grazed along your wet slit with his forefinger. You could hear him laugh next to you, sporting a cocky grin at how quickly you were already soaked. Only a few moments passed before he slipped his middle and ring finger inside your wet cunt with a quiet squelch, making your breath hitch at the intrusion. It didn’t take long before he had pushed his fingers all the way past the knuckle and to the hilt. The two thick digits spreading you open and filling you so deep.

“Mmm, so tight, bonnie.” He murmurs into your ear, moving his mouth to suck along the span of your neck.

“Soap, oh my god!” The feeling of his tongue licking a stripe up your neck, him leaving messy open mouthed kisses along your skin, mixed with his fingers pumping in your wet cunt at a furious pace left you so overstimulated. You didn’t know where to look, what to say. Where to put your hands. You could only jerk your hips against his hand and let out almost incoherent babbles.

Your head is thrown back against the headrest, face all scrunched up in pleasure and mouth open in breathy moans. His mouth is pulled into a self indulgent smirk against your neck as he watched your body writhe in pleasure with each pump and thrust of his fingers.

He could just imagine your legs twitching and your hips bucking against his fingers, your juices soaking his hand. He could imagine the warm, wet feeling of your cunt squeezing around his fingers as he pumped them in and out at a furious pace. He could practically hear your panting and whines echo through the Hum-vee, paired with squelching from your soaked cunt as his fingers pulled out and pushed back in.

“Soap,” he could imagine you moaning his name, looking up at him with glossy eyes as tears pricked at your lash line. Your hands searching for purchase desperately, trying to grab at the leather seat underneath you but to no avail. “Please.”

In his head, in the fucked up fantasy he had conjured up, he loved the sight so much that he slipped a third finger past your entrance and worked it in along side the other two. Grinning wickedly when he sees your mouth fall open, chest heaving as you felt yourself getting closer and closer.

“No, no, no. No ‘Soap’. No ‘Sergeant’. None o’ that. Just ‘Johnny’.” His fingers quicken, and his smile grows at your widening eyes.

“Say it. Say my name while ye’ cream around my fingers.” He imagined himself all but growling in your ear as he looked at your squirming figure, twitching uncontrollably from the pleasure.

He saw you bite your lip to silence your moans and he thought, not a chance. “Say. It.” He ground out, voice full of gravel. To drive that point home, he curled his fingers just so. Hitting that spot that made your toes curl and that knot in your stomach tighten. He pairs it perfectly with a hard bite in the crook of your neck, teeth digging in to leave a bruising reminder of who you belonged to.

“Ah! I found that spot, didn’t I, pup? This spot, right here.” He smirks, so self satisfied when he sees your mouth drop open and your hips buck.

Your eyes would drop to his arm that was snaked down your stomach, his muscles tensing and flexing as he worked his fingers inside your pussy. Then you would link your arms with his arm, grounding yourself in reality as he drove you closer and closer to the first orgasm of many.

Just imagining you moaning his name is enough to make him hard.

“Johnny, Johnny, Johnny!” You would babble his name mindlessly, your hips bucking against his fingers and your legs twitching. “Yeah, there ye’ go.” He would hum in approval against your ear, the sound from deep in his chest as you squirt against his hand. Drenching his fingers and palm, the fluid dripping onto the leather beneath you.

“Good fuckin’ girl.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you came down from your high, your heart racing in your chest. You were still shaking and spent, clinging to his arm as he used his free hand to reach between your thighs. Your legs would twitch and jerk away from his touch, overwhelmingly sensitive after cumming all over his hand only moments prior. He shushed you gently, his lips murmuring all warm and rumbling against your ear to calm you down. He used two fingers to sweep along the slippery leather, gathering your juices and coating his fingers with the slick. You cracked your eyes open long enough to see him bringing his coated fingers up to his lips, his cerulean eyes still staring at you. Your half lidded eyes widened as you watched his tongue dart out to lick your juices off of his fingers, popping them in his mouth and sucking them clean with a pop each time.

“Taste so fuckin’ good, knew ye’ would. My sweet girl.” Without giving you a moment of reprieve, he grabs your throat with that same hand he just licked and pulls your face close to his. He applies the slightest bit of pressure to your windpipe, not enough to cut off your airway but just enough to make you deliciously dizzy. You could feel his breath fan against your lips from how close he was, you could smell the traces of bourbon from his mouth.

He all but smashes his lips against yours and kissing you fervently, all messy and sloppy. You yelp against his mouth, the sound quickly turning into a pathetic whine that he swallows. He nips and bites at your lip, pulling just a fraction — enough to tease you. Enough for him to slip his tongue past your lips and force you to taste yourself on him, letting his tongue mingle with yours.

Then the image in his head shifted from the inside of the Hum-vee, to the two of you in his quarters. With you on your knees in front of him.

He saw you on your knees, staring up at him through your lashes as you worshipped his cock. Kneeling in front of him, sitting between his spread legs as his jeans were pulled down just enough to free his erection. While one had was stroking him, your other hand would be laid on his bare thigh, feeling the scratch of his body hair against your soft skin. One hand would be rested on your head, petting your hair while his other hand would be cupping your cheek. His thumb stroking at the soft skin of your face, his eyes staring into yours.

“Look so fuckin’ good like that on yer knees for me.”

He could imagine your shaky hands reach for his hard cock that was resting against his stomach, your eyes glazed over and pupils dilated with anticipation. He could imagine your small, almost inaudible gasp when you finally take him in your hand, feeling how hard and hot his shaft is. How it’s pulsing under your touch, desperate for you to start stroking. He could imagine his own breath hitching as your hand finally moved up and down his uncut length. He could imagine your own breathing grow heavier as you watched your hand pump his cock, twisting near the head and squeezing a bit when you reach the base. Your hand would move on autopilot, as if it was made for his cock. Made for him.

You were made for him.

“Sittin’ all pretty just for me, hm? Isn’t that right, doll?” He would murmur with a possessive lilt to his voice, lips curved into a smirk as his eyes peered down into yours. You could only nod, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth.

“C’mon, open yer mouth for me. There ye’ go.”

He imagined your tongue sticking out, letting him hit the head of his cock on your tongue with little taps. He imagined you shyly licking the tip, taking tentative laps along the sensitive skin. He imagined your tongue darting out to trace along the vein that ran underneath his shaft, feeling your hands move to wrap around the base of his cock.

“Fuck, good fuckin’ pup.”

He imagined your plump, shiny lips wrapped around his cock as you finally started sucking. He imagined your pretty eyes staring up at him with tears rimming your lash line, eyes glossing over. He imagined your muffled whimpers around his cock as you bobbed your head up and down. His hand would be fisted in your hair and he would be controlling the pace, using your hair as a handle as he fucked your throat.

He could imagine tear tracks running down your cheeks and drool dribbling down your chin as you kept taking him all the way down to the base of his cock. He could imagine the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat, feeling you swallow around him and sending waves of pleasure into his core.

“So fuckin’ perfect like this, doll. Taking my cock so well, like a good fuckin’ girl. Always so good for me.”

You would preen around his cock, glossy eyes crinkling at the edges as you smiled from the praise. Even though your vision was blurred from the tears welling up, just hearing his gravelly voice shower you with compliments was enough.

He could imagine you grinding your cunt against his boot while you sucked his cock. He could almost hear your muffled whines and feel your moans sending vibrations to his core. Tear tracks would be running down your cheeks as you kept taking him all the way to the hilt, your nose brushing against the brown tuft of hair at the base. Spit would be dribbling down your chin and down your neck.

“So pathetic. Humping on my boot like a damn dog, so fuckin’ greedy.”

You would whine around his length at his degrading words, but your stomach grew tighter nonetheless. Your pussy squeezed around nothing as you ground down desperately against his boot, just aching to be filled. Your hips would be rocking against his boot, feeling that warmth build up in your stomach with each pass of your cunt against the leather.

“Look at you, already makin’ such a mess on the floor with how wet you are.” He would mock you. “Well, go on then. Fuck yourself on my boot. Cum like the desperate slut you are.”

He can just imagine your muffled cries and eyes squeezed shut as you come apart on his boot, drenching the leather with your juices.

Then the scene in his mind transforms from you on your knees, to the inside of the bases shower room.

Skin slapping against skin would echo throughout the tiled room along with the sound of the running showers. Broken moans and whimpers falling from your kiss-swollen lips, grunts and curses pouring from Johnny’s.

He would have you bent over the sink, his naked body pressed up against yours as he ruts into you. The only thing holding you steady were your elbows planted on the counter as he plowed into your slippery cunt, his big hands gripping your hips enough to leave a handprint in his wake.

“Feel good, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” He could imagine you babbling mindlessly.

“Aww, ye’, I know.” He would croon almost cruelly in that sickly sweet tone of his.

He imagines tears running down your cheeks as he takes you from behind, his cock buried deep in your cunt. Whines and grunts echoed in his mind, along with the sounds of rough slapping skin against skin. Wet sounds mixed in with the cacophony of noises as his cock plunged back inside your soaked pussy with each thrust of his hips.

“So fuckin’ tight for me, pet.”

Mirrors were on the wall across from the two of you, leaving your reflection on full display for him to drink in as he fucked you.

While his mind was filled with these conjured up images of you stark bare and taking his cock, he took this opportunity to imagine what you would actually look like naked. What your body would look like under all of those layers of scrubs or civilian clothes, sometimes even military gear.

The only glimpse at your figure he had to go off of was from a Special Forces fundraiser gala, where you were wearing a beautiful gown. It was a black, off the shoulder dress with a plunging neckline and a slit running up the thigh. Not hitting too high, just hitting mid way up your thigh — just enough to tease Soap with a sliver of leg. Enough to give him a glimpse of a black lace garter hugging your thigh.

“So beautiful. Such a pretty fuckin’ girl.”

So, as his brain painted that picture of the two of you in the shower room, his brain also filled in the blanks with what your body might look like.

He imagines staring into your reflection in the mirror, and seeing your breasts bounce with each thrust, skin shining with sweat and nipples hardened from arousal. He imagines the buds swollen and sore from being sucked and nipped on. He imagines stripes of wetness decorating your breasts from his tongue tasting your skin, dipping between the valley of your tits. He imagines mouth shaped marks and indentations littering your skin, all from his mouth claiming you as his.

For a split second, he even imagines how ropes of his cum would look splattered across your tits.

“Only like this for me, isn’t that right?”

He imagines your chest heaving as you pant and gasp with pleasure, especially when your breath hitches from a particularly hard thrust. He imagines your pulse thrumming hard under your skin, heart racing and pounding in your ears.

He imagines how your ass would feel as he gripped it in his big hands, the soft skin being such a harsh contrast against his rough, calloused palms. He imagines how your flesh would ripple with each thrust, or how it would jiggle when his palm would come down in a swift spank across your ass. He could practically hear your yelp as handprint welts formed on your skin.

“Wanted this for so fuckin’ long.”

He imagines your thighs rubbing up against his as he’s rutting into your hot cunt, grunting with every thrust in and every pull out and every thrust back in. He imagines how shaky your legs would be from all of his ministrations and the onslaught of ecstasy he put you through. He imagines your cunt squeezing his cock so tight, almost pushing him out with how tight you were clenching down on him. Fuck, you were all warm and wet and spongey. He imagines your juices mixing with his and dripping down your thighs.

“Oh, you’re so fuckin’ wet for me. Just soakin’ my cock. Knew ye’ wanted me. Just like I’ve wanted ye’.”

Finally, he imagines your face while he fucks you against the mirror. He imagines how your expression would shift and contort in pure ecstasy, your brows all furrowed and eyes clenched shut. Your mouth hanging open in a gasp and your tongue lolling out as his cock reaches that sensitive spot over and over.

It was the perfect image. You losing yourself impaled on his cock, cunt squeezing him perfectly as you came closer and closer to the edge. Him buried deep inside you, impossibly close to you in ways he’d always imagined.

It was perfect in every way, except for one. Your eyes were closed. You couldn’t see your reflection in the mirror in front of you, you couldn’t see yourself coming apart for him and only him.

And that just wouldn’t do.

“No, no, no. Not a fuckin’ chance.”

With that, he leans down and reaches to grips your jaw. He relishes in seeing your eyes flash open in shock, enjoying the cute little yelp fall from your lips as he snakes his muscular arm around your chest. He uses the vice-like hold on your jaw to pull you up until you were flush against his chest. Your hand darted up to hold his wrist as he held your jaw, your other hand grasping at his arm that was wrapped around your chest. Your nails dug into his skin, leaving white crescent marks against his tan flesh as you searched for purchase — anything to ground you in reality.

“You’re gonnae keep those eyes open. You’re gonnae watch yourself cum on my cock.” He growls into your ear, his free hand snaking across your chest while his other hand was still gripping your jaw. “Oh, fuck—,” You would cry out at the new, closer angle he was thrusting into you with. The hand that was splayed across your chest groped your breast, his rough skin burning at your flesh and his fingers tweaking at your nipple.

“Yeah, ye’ feel that? Feel me splitting you open?” Would be ground out into your ear, the husky timbre of his voice sending chills down your spine.

His hips would snap up into you, his cock hitting you even deeper and making you feel impossibly fuller with each thrust. Your eyes would roll with each cruel snap of his hips, head falling back onto his shoulder.

“Oh, fuuuck.” You cry out, legs feeling more like jelly with each passing second. You knew if his strong arms weren’t holding you so tight, you would’ve melted in a puddle on the tile beneath you. “Johnny!”

You could feel him smirk against your cheek.

“That’s it, tell everyone who’s makin’ ye’ feel so good. Tell everyone who ye’ belong to.” The hand on your jaw would make you face the mirror in front of you.

You would open your eyes to see yourself in the reflection, all manhandled by your best friend while his thick cock pistoned in and out of your slick cunt. His big hand would have a firm grip on your jaw as he controlled where you looked, forcing you to look at yourself while getting orgasms forced out of you. His other hand would be snaked around your chest, muscular arm flexing as he palmed your breast. Both of you would be covered in a sheen of sweat and tears would be running down your cheeks from all of the pleasure building up.

“Johnny, please!” You would all but shout, looking at him through the reflection with blurry eyes. You didn’t know what you were begging for. A moment of reprieve, maybe? One last push to shove you over the edge? You weren’t sure.

“Please, what? Hm? Use yer words.”

“Please make me cum! Please, please, please— oh, fuck!” Your begging would be cut off by your own moan as the hand that was on your chest moved down to rub circles over your swollen clit.

He would only laugh as you squirted on his cock, squeezing him for all he was worth.

He would be pulled, yanked out of his perverted fantasies by the loud crash of a weight hitting the matted gym floor. A lower ranking soldier had finished with their sets and let the weight fall to the floor without any regard for the Sergeants eardrums.

Soap just shook his head and moved to leave the gym, in an attempt to rid himself of the images that were sure to get him painfully hard.

After he cleaned the machines he used, he slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and grabbed his thermos.

Soap walked out of the base gym after a hard training, his tan skin all flushed and sweaty. Mohawk all messy and some strands sticking to his forehead. He wore a white wife beater and grey sweatpants, and he held a thermos filled with ice water at his side.

He willed his mind to drift away from the images that made his cock hard, and instead forced himself to think about things that made his heart race. After he left the gym and let the heavy doors close behind him, his mind immediately thought of one thing that fit that description.

You.

You and your annoyed expression that you would wear whenever he shooes away yet another date, usually by slinging his arm over your shoulder and drawling in your ear, “Who’s this, babe?”

The annoyed expression always featured a clenched jaw and your perfect lips downturned into a frown, paired with an eye roll that could rival the Lieutenants.

You also wore that annoyed expression when receiving unwanted attention from other guys. Which is what was about to happen in a few moments.

His heart pounds in his ears as he comes down from his workout, still panting a bit as he uncapped his thermos. He leans against the wall as he raises his thermos to his lips, gulping down the ice water greedily. As he tilts his head back and drinks, his eyes spot a familiar figure behind his raised thermos.

You. You were walking the halls of the base with a stack of files folded under your arm, presumably to deliver to Price’s office.

He makes a surprised noise, swallowing whatever water was in his mouth and quickly screwing the cap back on to his thermos.

With a grin painted on his lips, he breaks into a jog towards you. He couldn’t wait to talk to you, be near you, especially since he was about to ship off for a long deployment the next day.

Once he caught up to you, his grin quickly dissolves into a frown as he sees someone already talking to you. A guy.

The guy was dressed in some run-of-the-mill camouflage that was fit for some random soldier. Not a uniform for an established officer or for someone with a respected ranking. Just some mediocre boy.

Which is exactly what Soap saw when he looked at the guy. Mediocre. No talent. No direction. No drive.

Cerulean eyes skimmed the soldier with a displeased expression. He was wearing an intimidated expression, his eyes were wide as he looked at the Sergeant. His eyes scanning the soldiers wrinkled uniform and crooked patch, already finding uniform violation after violation. Then he scrutinized what was under the piss poor uniform, the lads muscles. Or lack thereof.

The soldier was wiry, to say the least. Barely an ounce of muscle or fat on his bones. There was no way he would make it past basic training, let alone be able to build an actual military career.

There was also no way that boy could ever please you. Not like Soap could, anyway. No one could ever please you like Soap could.

Soap gave him a final once over before chuckling. He could break that man, that boy, in half in five seconds flat.

“That bloke? Really?” He scoffs as he sees you entertaining the recruit. His usually bright eyes are scanning that boy up and down, with furrowed brows and a tight lip. Looking at the recruit with what could only be described as disgust.

“Isn’t even a cadet.” Soap mutters under his breath as he stands next to you, watching the man scurry away with his tail between his legs. You roll your eyes and groan because this is what feels like the millionth man he’s run off.

“Never gonna get laid at this rate.” You mutter under your breath before storming off, not even giving Soap a passing glance as you bumped into his shoulder.

He felt a fire ignite deep in his core at your words. His eyes brightened and he grinned as he broke into a jog after your retreating figure.

“Mmm,” He hums, a rumble coming deep from his throat. Almost a growl. “Never say never, brèagha.” Pretty. Soap called, wearing a boyish grin as he caught up with you in the hallway. “You know where to find me.”

All you had to do was say the word and he would come running, giving you orgasm after orgasm. Making your legs twitch and your toes curl, making your nails dig into his back and leave scratches along the skin.

He longed to feel that sting rip across his back as your nails dug in, leaving marks that would serve as a reminder of your claim on him.

Because he did belong to you, even if you didn’t know it. Body and soul.

You just kept walking, though. Barely even registering what he said. You heaved a sigh and spared him a side eye glance.

“Oh my god, you’re so funny.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm at his teasing, because of course he was kidding. Right?

You were painfully oblivious to his affections towards you, because that’s just how he always was. He always joked like that, especially towards you. Always putting on that boyish charm and acting flirty, buttering you up with compliments and leaving hot fleeting touches against your skin.

You kept your eyes ahead of you, not daring to look at Soap or his damn tank top that showed off his muscles so well. The muscles that were so solid and thick, littered with tan scars that took nothing away from his beauty. If anything, they just added to it. They showed how strong he was. How sturdy he was. All of the many wounds earned and injuries endured, scars left in place as a reminder of where he’s been. What he’s survived.

You also didn’t want to risk a glance at his hands. The rough calloused skin that was always oh so warm, veins prominent as blood pumped through his body. Just a single glance at his muscles or hands would no doubt send you down a spiral of heart racing thoughts, thoughts that would have you squeezing your thighs together.

At the very least, you wanted to hold those thoughts off until you were in the privacy of your quarters. The security provided by the four walls would let you get rid of that.. tension.

“And what does that word even mean anyway? You know I don’t understand gaelic.” You muttered, sparing a quick glance at his hulking figure as he walked next to you. Just before you looked away from him once more, you caught a glimpse of a smile tugging at his lips.

Even as you brushed off his genuine offer as just a joke, his wolfish grin just remained. Still teetering the line between a smirk and a smile.

“Ah, now why would I go and tell ye’ that? That just sucks all the fun out of it, hen.” He would tease, slinging an arm over your shoulder and pulling you into his side.

“Ugh, you’re all sweaty!” You cringed and tried to slip out of his hold but he was just too strong, keeping you trapped against his warm skin. You forced yourself to think that your heartbeat racing was only a result of surprise, not from being in such close proximity to his hulking form. It definitely wasn’t a result of feeling the intense heat rolling off of him in waves, or the musk you couldn’t help but take a whiff of. And it definitely wasn’t due to his big arm weighing so heavily on your shoulders, almost like staking a claim on you.

He only laughed at your struggle, the sound making your stomach flutter even if you were annoyed.

As you continued walking down the hallway with him glued to your side, you went back to avoiding eye contact with him. You could feel his eyes burning into you as he drank in all of your features. That damn smirk never left his lips, matter how annoyed you were or how that scowl was damn near engraved on your perfect lips.

No matter how much you complained or pouted, always because of his overbearing nature and his dedication to batting men away from you, he couldn’t keep his eyes off your lips.

He loved the way you pressed them together, especially when you were focused on a particularly rough stitch, poking the needle through bloodied flesh. Exactly like all of the times you had to patch him up after bullets scraped his flesh, or found themselves imbedded in his muscle. He could feel his heart threaten to beat out of his chest at the mere thought of your hands on his bare skin, sewing the wounds shut.

He loved the way you bit your lip, taking your bottom lip between your teeth nervously when you worried about something. How your brows would furrow and your eyes would widen a fraction whenever you saw him returning injured from a mission. He would always feel his chest fill with warmth, no matter how deep the bullet had buried itself in him, when he sees your worried face hovering over him on the gurney.

He loved the way you pouted when you didn’t get your way. Or, more accurately, when he would insert himself in any situation that involved you and another man. He can’t help it.

Not when you’re jutting your bottom lip out like that, looking up at your best friend with sad eyes after he kicks yet another man to the curb. You can’t blame him for doing that either, he thinks. Not when it’s so glaringly obvious that none of those men could take care of you. None of them could please you, make you feel good. Make you feel safe.

Before he knew it, the two of you had made it to the elevator that you had to take to get to Price’s office. You needed to get on so you lifted his heavy arm off of your shoulders and stepped away from him. “Are you even listening? Hello?” Your voice cut in, making him blink a few times. You were looking at him with furrowed brows as if you were appraising him. Searching to find some reason for his strange behavior.

“Sorry, what?” He grinned sheepishly and felt his face heat up in a blush, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly.

You eyed him warily.

“I said, would you mind running back to my quarters to grab my headphones? I forgot them and I need them to work out. I would go and them myself but I need to get these files to Price like.. now.” You waved the files a bit to emphasize your point. “If I go all the way across base to get them myself, there’s no way I’ll be able to get these to Price in time. And if I get them after giving these to Price, the gym will be closed.” You dug through your pockets to find your key card.

“Yer lucky yer cute.” Soap said, enjoying the flustered look on your face as he snatches your key card from your hand. Then he turns on his heel, jogging in the direction of your quarters.

Which is how he ended up here, swiping your key card against the doorknob and waiting for your door to unlock.

As he twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open, he felt a strange sense of excitement flood his stomach.

Of course he had been in your room before, but you had always accompanied him. Now, he was all alone. He could look at any of your pictures if he wanted. He could touch any of your belongings without worrying about you catching him.

He couldn’t help how his eyes wondered around the room, taking in every detail of the room you inhabited.

Your familiar scent hit his nose the second he stepped foot in your room. Vanilla and cinnamon, with a hint of freshness and fruit notes. Like a bakery in Autumn, filled with baked apple pie while the leaves outside were turning orange.

The smell was so soothing, so familiar. He smelled it almost every time he brought you into a bear hug and nestled his head in your neck.

The smell was home.

The next thing he noticed were the decorations you had adorned your room with. Among the walls were a few posters and art pieces, paintings with your favorite colors and designs that reflected your personality.

There was also a bulletin board hung right above your desk, with plenty of photos pinned in the tan board. Soap smiled as he gazed at the photos, seeing himself in so many of them. Many of them had captured you as well, a lot of them were candid shots that you didn’t notice at the time of the shot.

Some were taken when you were stitching up a wound on Soap, perfectly capturing your skilled hands holding him still. They also perfectly captured Soap’s wolfish grin and bright eyes as he stared at you while you stitched him up.

Others were taken by Soap as he snapped a sneaky photo of you next to him. You would be sitting or laying next to him, totally focused on something else while he had his arm wrapped around you. Effectively trapping you in his warmth and preventing you from squirming away. Soap would bring the camera up in front of the two of you and make sure he got his own face in the view, flashing one of his blinding grins. The arm that was wrapped around you would move to pet your hair or caress your cheek.

The next thing that caught his eye was your bed. All made up, neat and tidy. Your sheets, comforter and pillows were all made up of your favorite colors. He walked over to your bed and outstretched his hand, feeling the fabric of your blanket on his palm. He could just imagine you laying there on your soft sheets, your hair resting against the silk pillowcase.

He could also imagine your head thrown back against those pillowcases as he thrusted into you, your face contorted in pleasure and moans falling from your lips. Or maybe him pushing your legs against your chest and devouring your cunt.

He felt like it was a perfect mirror of your relationship dynamic, his rough skin against your soft blanket. He was rough and you were soft.

Finally, his eyes landed on your dresser. There were some artificial potted plants placed on top, with bright petals that caught the eye. There was a small white jewelry dish as well, made of glass and marbled with your favorite colors. The dish held a few rings and necklaces, all pieces he could very clearly remember you wearing.

His eyes brightened as he saw your headphones sitting right next to your jewelry dish. He grabbed them and swiftly slipped them into his sweatpants pocket.

He was just about to turn and leave your room when something caught his eye.

He saw a flash of blue sitting at the bottom of an otherwise empty laundry hamper in the corner of your room. He can’t help himself as he all but runs over to the hamper.

His breath hitches as he sees what the flash of blue was.

A dark blue thong. All lace and intricate detailing, so fucking tempting. And you had just taken it off. Before he could stop himself, he reaches down into the hamper and picks up your thong. The thong that was lucky enough to sit on your perfect skin.

It made his mouth water as he stared at the soft lingerie in his grasp, thinking about you wearing it. Thinking about the fabric riding up on your hips, the lace trim decorating your skin perfectly.

He felt that familiar tightness in his sweatpants as he gripped the fabric tight, his knuckles going white.

It took all of his self control to not just lift the panties up to his nose and smell your juices right then and there.

His hand moved by itself as he pocketed the thong, the lingerie almost burning a hole in his pocket.

Before he knew it, he had made it back to you and given your headphones to you. He barely said two words to you before he was jogging back to his own quarters, his heart racing the entire time.

All he could think about was the lingerie stuffed in his pocket, waiting for him to touch it.

The minute he set foot inside his room, he slammed the door and hurried to lock it behind him.

Only moments later he was sprawled across his bed with his sweatpants pulled down to his knees, and his tank top thrown on the floor. He reached down and let his weeping cock spring out of his boxers. The head was red and swollen, fully hard as it laid against his lower stomach, a steady drip of precum was already leaking from his slit. It was pulsing, blood pumping through it as he kept thinking of all the ways he wanted to have you.

His hand wrapped around his cock as he started pumping it at a languid pace.

“Ah, that’s it,” He hissed through his teeth, feeling that familiar heat build up in his stomach.

Using his thumb, he rubbed slow circles onto the tip, spreading the white liquid around the head of his cock. Slowly, he began stroking himself from the head of his cock down to the base.

With every pump of his fist around his cock, a breathy moan would fall from his lips. His head would fall back against his pillows, his sweaty hair sticking to his forehead.

His skin was covered in a sheen of sweat that rivaled his post-workout shine, his tan skin was flushed pink as he panted and huffed. His free hand would still be gripping the lace panties with bruising force, as if he was imagining himself holding your ass the same way or pulling your hair the same way.

“Fuck.” His hips would buck into his hand, lifting off the bed as he chased his own pleasure.

He brings your panties up to his nose and takes a big inhale, smelling your musk and juices in one fell swoop. He moans your name so wantonly, so desperately as his hand picks up the pace.

He takes another whiff. Imagining how you would look right in front of him at this very moment. Thinking about the earlier fantasies that plagued his mind did a lot to bring him close to the edge.

All he could think about was how your pretty lips would look wrapped around his weeping cock, how your hands would feel so soft on his sensitive skin. He could imagine your tits bouncing as you bobbed your head on his cock, your nipples poking through your thin top.

He twisted his hand with each stroke up and down his shaft, squeezing at the tip. His white precum was now coating his cock, making lewd wet sounds with every stroke.

“So fuckin’ pretty. So fuckin’ perfect.” He curses, his abs twitching as his hips bucked and squirmed. You were so fucking pretty. You were so fucking perfect.

“Need ye’ so bad. You need me.” His fist moved quicker around his cock.

The more he pumped and stroked, and the more he babbled into the empty room, he felt the knot in his stomach build.

“Ye’ need me to take care of ye’. I’m the only one who can make ye’ feel this good.” His breathing picked up as he felt himself get closer and closer to the edge.

He knew just what would push him right over.

He brought your wet panties down to his cock and started stroking with the flimsy piece of fabric. Immediately, the second that the fabric touched his throbbing cock, his breath hitched.

Even just the thought alone that those panties touched your wet cunt earlier that day was enough to send him over the edge, but feeling your juices on his cock?

That was more than enough to make him shoot ropes of hot cum on his heaving stomach, his hips stuttering as his orgasm ran through him.

Your name falling from his lips as he came with a guttural moan.

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lowkeyrobin · 5 months

Note

Hii!! Is it possible to request a Minho x Reader Angst fic? I don’t have any real ideas for what i just rlly like angst😭

Anyway make sure you’re looking after yourself!!

YES 🙏🙏 I concocted the perfect idea for this so I hope you enjoy! ; thank you for requesting!! ; I wrote like a good chunk of this in geometry and physical science so this is actually kinda good lol ; also this is so damn long for me what the FUCK. ; also a bit of inspo in the end thanks to she by jelly roll...

MINHO ; they

summary ; minho loses you again

warnings ; language, guns & gun violence, explosions/bombs, death, he rips off your wckd jacket & top (not sexual), and a panic attack

disclaimers ; top ten most unneeded deaths in cinema

track ; she, jelly roll (again, not a word)

word count ; 2.5k

masterlist

Minho lost everything he'd been able to remember once he left the Glade, including you.

You were a smart thinker, which confused him as to why you stayed back with Gally and the other skeptics who didn't want to find escape in the maze. He tried so hard to convince you to come, but with such little time, he couldn't.

He'd spent months imprisoned mourning the loss of your presence. He didn't know how to function without you. He wondered where you were all the time, if you were even alive or not. He'd been wishing the best in your fate, in the scorch and back in the hands of WCKD. He missed your dorky smile and infectious laughter, hoping one day he could hear it again, even in the stars that he oh-so-missed gazing with you.

Your name scorched his heart every time it was spoken. Your face was engraved in his brain, to the point every time he thought of or imagined you, he'd fight back tears to stay strong. You were weaponized against him, being used to create false memories and episodes to help them find a cure.

Every time he'd wake up from a real dream where you were present, he'd end up in tears, to then have to cradle himself back to sleep. He'd been confined like this for months, then another few days before the bust. It was so, so much worse in the Last City, he'd rather have died in some horrific train crash then have missed his chance at freedom.

However, you survived. Gally did, too, though, even after Minho pierced his chest with a spear.

You'd joined some revolution gang together, learning to use guns and join the ranks. You'd been given bulletproof vests once you proved your worth, officially becoming part of the team.

Reuniting with Thomas, Fry, and Newt was a story in itself, but knowing, or at least hoping, that you'd see Minho again made your heart race in your chest. Gally took Thomas and Newt out to explore the perimeter of the city, letting you reconnect and catch up with Fry and get to know Brenda and her father figure Jorge.

Brenda grew fond of you quickly, liking your badassery and passion to overthrow WCKD. She knew you weren't into trying to kill innocents and understood that you wanted bullets in Janson's and Paige's heads, and you were willing to do it for free.

You showed her and Fry how to use the electro-guns, two you'd stolen from WCKD guards that defended the city walls. They're good for torture, but it was never your taste of tea, you left the others to do the sick shit. You wanted your friends back, you didn't even know they'd been free up til earlier today.

Once the trio came back, they set up a plan that you and Gally jumped in on to deflect and suggest ideas. It was set for tomorrow night, and you didn't know how to process it. You try not to think of Minho the rest of the night, which you awfully fail at, as you'd fallen asleep thinking of him.

You play out your role over and over again, overthinking every single detail down to the grade of gun you'd have strapped to your side. Gally, now your close friend after all this time together, could see your nervousness and anticipation.

"You okay?" He asks, leaning on the railing to your shared bunk bed. You slept on the bottom, him on the top.

You nod, arms sprawled over the top of your pillow, basically holding it like it was going anywhere. "I'm good. Nervous"

He nods, "It'll be alright, we're gonna get him back"

You'd stolen WCKD gaurd suits, your first priority. You and Gally walk around the perimeter of the building post getting the kids on the bus. Your masks are up to avoid any real guards noticing that you're fakes. He holds his bulky gun across his chest, while yours is angled with the safety on across your back. A hand rests over the pistol on your side.

You can feel your heart pounding behind your ribcage, the anticipation of seeing Minho and taking down WCKD killing you. Gally pats your shoulder for reassurance and nods forward silently, wanting to pick up the pace.

You notice explosions in the distance, firey flames illuminating the sky.

As you walk under the main area, you notice a fire extinguisher land in the modern pool, splashing water into the air as it sinks to the bottom. You hear yells, then three bodies plop into the pool. You and three other guards behind you run to the scene, while you and Gally lag behind, knowing who just showed up.

Thomas, Newt, and Minho rise out of the water, floating over to the side after Thomas sends Janson, standing in the bay of the window, maybe twenty stories high, a middle finger. They wade over to the edge and pull themselves out, guards hold them at gunpoint, leaving their faces shaken and in despair.

Gally acts first, shoving one of the guards into the pool, then you pistol whip the one on your right, and you together knock out the last guy. The boys stare at you two, confused as to why two guards had apparently saved them, their questions are quickly answered as Gally rips his mask off.

"Hey"

"Oh, you bloody genius!"

"Oh, shit"

"What the hell?" Minho mutters.

Laying your eyes on him again, even though that mask, it brought you nearly to tears. Seeing his eyes, so tired, his body clearly so weak from the mental and physical stress, your heart broke for him. You make sure your handheld gun had the safety on before tucking it away properly.

"Long story" Gally replies to Minho, knowing what he was thinking.

Minho, still in genuine shock, adrenaline coursing through his veins, looks to you, wondering if you were maybe Brenda or Fry. You bite the inside of your cheek before pulling your mask off, softly smiling at Minho.

Newt and Thomas smile, Newt much more weak, as he was beginning to crank out.

"Y/n?" He questions in disbelief. "How- am I dreaming again?"

You quickly pound the boy into a hug, the moisture from his body rubbing off onto your red and grey outfit. The mask lays on the concrete, where Gally kicks it into the water, same with his.

You hear him begin to sob, holding onto you so tightly in fear you'd disappear like all the times before. You rub his back with your dominant hand, which trails up his spine toward his nape.

"I thought you were dead" He cries, "They've been using you in those simulations-"

"It's okay." You softly speak, "We have to go, you can tell me all about it later"

He nods, eyes still widened in shock and confusion as you follow the other three as they quickly flee the scene.

You take cover by some bushes, leaving Newt on the side to rip his jacket off as he sweats profusely. The veins in his neck were bulging out of his skin, colored a matte black.

You couldn't help but stare, unable to listen to the others talk. You quickly rush to his aid, wanting to help him be the most comfortable he possibly could be.

You crouch down next to him, giving him some reassuring words that he'd be okay. You help him to his feet, where Minho is at your side.

Gally and Thomas lead the way as another explosion rings through the air near you. You duck your head as some loose shrapnel lightly hits your skin, thankfully not enough force given to puncture your face.

The explosions only become worse as you run through a little diner, having no alternate route around as the city was being blown to smithereens.

"God damnit, we said blow up the entrance, not the whole damn city"

Newt falls to the ground, too weak to walk as black ooze drips from his lips. Glass explodes behind you, in which you quickly shove Minho to the ground in front of you to protect him. You cover your head, letting the glass shards hit your protected back.

He gasps for air for a moment as Thomas and Gally prop him up against a safe wall, trying to talk to him. You and Minho follow suit, making a quick plan to go get the temporary cure from Brenda and Jorge, and run back to give it to Newt.

"Stay strong for me, okay?" Minho speaks, his hands on the blonde's shoulders.

He nods, his eyes clearly lost in a daze, his vision blurry and wobbly.

Minho pats his shoulder before standing up, letting you give him a nod of reassurance. You and Gally follow Minho, weapons drawn to protect him as he leads with his quick sprinting skills.

You three get one last look at Newt and Thomas before fleeing, working your way through the maze of buildings and explosions to get to your friends. Gally shoots a guard at his side while you do the same at about a 10'o'clock radius.

"This way!"

You follow Minho, the explosions so loud that they defeaned gunshots. The battery on your stolen WCKD gun runs out, and you toss it to the side, resorting to using your pistol to defend your friends. Another bomb nearly knocks you off your feet, causing you to stumble into Minho.

"Sorry!" You shout over the noise.

"You okay?" He shouts back, helping you balance on your feet again.

"Yeah!" You quickly reply, nodding forward for him to continue running to get the cure.

You make it down to the Berg, where Fry, Brenda and Jorge await your arrival.

"The cure!"

"We can't leave him here like this"

"We can't take him back-"

"We have to, please"

"It's too dangerous, we won't make it back to the Berg in time, or we'll get blown up carrying him!"

You stand at Minho's side, looking down at the blonde haired boy as he stands up. He wipes the tears from his eyes, looking at you.

"We have to leave him, Minho"

He nods, slowly placing the cure in Newt's cold hand. He takes one last look at him before turning away, waiting for anyone to speak and give orders.

Brenda speaks up again, deciding to get back to the Berg as fast as possible. You all follow her, guns out, ready to shoot whoever you had to at this point.

Minho turns to you as you run side by side, "Why are you here? Why are you putting yourself in the face of danger? To save me or something?"

You give him a little head tilt to act as a shrug, "You called"

"What?"

You shake your head, deciding to explain it once you were in the hands of safety. An explosion, which cause the ground to rumble beneath you, knocks you all off your feet and onto the hard concrete.

You all groan in pain, having fallen all over each other. Brenda had fallen onto Fry, and they both stumble to the side, apologizing to one another profusely. You'd fallen onto Minho, of course, and help him back to his feet.

You feel lightheaded, your face growing cold, odd for the amount of heat and fire and running around you'd been doing. You lean onto the boy, feeling woozy, as maybe you'd stood up to fast.

Then you fall to your knees, some invisible force knocking you down, your cargo pants ripping at the knees from the impact.

"Y/n!" You hear Minho shout, his voice echoey in your ears.

You hear three gunshots coming from each Fry, Gally, and Brenda. You look back, seeing a WCKD guard fall on their back after taking three shots to the head and chest. Minho's hands rest on your shoulder and on your cheek as he calls your name, asking if you're okay. You see his eyes glance down, where he quickly looks back up to not scare you.

You stand up, numb to any pain. He follows, making sure you're able to keep balance on your feet. He quickly rips off the bulletproof vest for you and your jacket, revealing the wound right under your collar bone.

You look down at it, then look back up at him, eyebrows furrowed. You look to the other three, eyes widened in shock and fear. Another explosion pops a few hundred yards away, shaking the ground again, though not enough to knock you all down once more.

Minho quickly shouts for anything he can use to keep pressure on the wound. He held his hand over it, as the bleeding was horrible at the moment. His hands are covered in your blood, considering the bullet that shot you went clear through you. You notice the bullet a few feet away, light flickering off of it as it rolls into the street where multiple bloody bodies lay.

Minho rips a piece of his shirt and stuffs it into the exit wound, ordering you to hold it there. He pulls you along as you continue running through the city. Your left arm rests over Minho's shoulders, not wanting to upset your other side. Considering moving, it would only agitate it more, and you were trying to keep pressure on the wound anyway.

As you reach the final yards to reach the Berg where Jorge and Vince wait, you collapse to your knees again, landing face first in the debris covered concrete. Minho falls with you, your weight having dragged him down. He tries to pull you up but notices the pool of blood forming around you. A thin, but large pool.

He calls your name over and over, then flips you on your back, where blood sputters out of your mouth. He quickly pulls you up, your back now held up by Brenda and Fry, who were quick to turn back. Gally crouches down on one knee and slowly removes the cloth from the wound, absolutely drenched in crimson.

"No, no, no, no. Not now! Y/n, get up, please," He pleads, watching Vince and Jorge rush to your aid. "They were shot by a gaurd, went clean through, there's so much blood-"

You reach your hand out to Minho as the men pick you up off the ground, where you stumble to walk with them. They practically carry you on their shoulders to the Berg.

Another explosion knocks you all to the ground again, leaving bruises on faces, arms, and legs as you're pounded onto the ground. You'd be lucky enough not to get AIDS at this point.

Minho stumbles to his feet, rushing to you as the men pick themselves up before you.

He notices blood spewing from the other side of your chest. He rips the extra layers of clothing off your torso, tossing your pistol to the side as well. Gally looks around, finger on the trigger of his gun, looking for a shooter.

"Stray bullet!" Brenda shouts, "Get them in there! Go! Thomas needs us!"

Minho places his hands under your arms and drags you into the Berg himself, all the children right in view of your slumped body. You choke on blood and air, feeling your face grow cold and pale. The liquid trails up into the aircraft, staining the hard metal red for the time being.

Vince jumps into the driver's seat, ordering the others to help you and how to before it's too late. Brenda stands next to him, trying to get any info out of Thomas through the walkies.

You wrap your arms around Minho, feeling the pain in your chest now as you grunt and cry. You squeeze onto the back of his shirt, the pain causing you to claw your fingers into him. He holds you, his heart breaking in two as you struggle to breathe.

The placement, it wasn't possible to keep you this time. It wasn't possible to keep you and be free in any situation, in any timeline, in any universe.

"I don't wanna say goodbye"

He sits on the beach every morning, talking to the sunrise as if you were there next to him. He didn't mind the sand that would pile up in his boots or the dusty grain that would stick to his hydrophoric hands all damn day if it weren't for the water there to wash it away.

His fingers traced over your name on the rock when he felt lonely, like you were magically there, hugging him again.

He'd never know for sure what you meant when you said that he called. He understood that you definitely didn't hear him call for you after awakening after nightmares, but maybe you did, he wouldn't have known. He guessed in a metaphorical sense, he did call for you, which you both knew, but it still confused him somehow. He wanted you to explain it all so he'd understand, like how you always did.

He regretted never being able to rant about all his feelings to you. He wished he had time to tell you about all he went through so you could reassure him that you'd protect him forever. You'd protect him from the nightmares and the scars, the mental baggage that would weigh him down forever.

He started crying himself to sleep after he began to forget your face.

He just wanted another hug, but your face was beginning to blur out. It sent him into a panic attack right there. No one was there to help him as he cried and clawed into the dirt, trying to ground himself again. He couldn't believe himself, he treasured you so much yet he was forgetting your face after merely a year after your dissapearance?

It didn't help that after a while, he began to forget your voice too, that hurt even more. He'd been forced to talk about his feelings to Thomas like a parent-child conference. He wasn't himself anymore.

His eyes were always swollen, eyebags dark and weighing his happiness down. He was depressed. Every smile he showed was just him trying to make his way through another day's work, distracting himself from the fact that he lost you, for good this time, he watched it.

He wrote letters to you with no address to send to. It didn't help whatsoever that he himself pushed you out into the sea once Thomas regained consciousness so he could say farewell. He watched it all, he knew you were gone this time. At least he had some sense of closure.

He had nothing left of you other than that WCKD jacket you wore, that haunted him as he slept. He only kept it because even with the logo of the corporation that tortured him for years and past the bullet holes in it, it provided him a little comfort that you were still there.

He found that telling stories of you to the younger kids helped.

"They were like the life of the party, bright smile, infectious laughter. They were the one everyone wanted to be around. You could see the sunrise in their eyes."

"Who were they to you?" One little girl asks.

"I don't really know" Minho shrugs, looking down at his hands for a moment.

"Where are they now?" A little boy asks, tilting his head.

"They're in the sky, they have been. They're stuck there. I hope I see them again" He replies with a little nod, looking up at the sun beginning to set up on the island.

"Why are they stuck in the sky?"

"They're afraid of coming down"

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