#<<< he’s drawn there okay shhh

[kurlau]

EPIC GUEST DESIGN❗️❗️❗️

You might wanna click for better quality

Other notes:

-His hair is usually tucked into his jumper to make use of mobility + to make sure nobody yanks it

-He has long ass hair for a guy

-Friendship bracelet w/ Noob :) (the ‘N’ to symbolize ‘Noob’ got torn off

-Personal headcanon that whenever he uses his ‘focus’ ability or when he is alerted that he’s being indicated Noob somehow hides then with some wings or smth.Idk.He just protects them from indicators

-Big ass scar is from somebody he trusted + the reason he can’t really speak well

-On his phone he has silly pictures of his friends so he can blackmail them (in a friendly banter way)

[s0dium]

Stalker

A/n: I hope you enjoy

Warning: Stalker!Gojo, dub con, fingering, pussy drunk Gojo, unprotected sex, peeping tom, male masturbation, breeding

As the strongest sorcerer alive, Gojo Satoru knows he should be the epitome of justice, the defender of what's right. So out of all people Gojo Satoru should know that what he is doing is wrong. Very wrong.

Yet despite this he cant help but be drawn to you, linger around you, stalk you. He finds himself drawn to the places you frequent, learning the rhythm of your life, memorizing the small details that make you, you. The coffee shop where you start your morning, the park bench where you read during your lunch break, the dimly lit street you walk down on your way home. In his mind, a narrative builds—a story where he is a part of your world, where his presence matters to you as much as yours has inexplicably come to matter to him.

For a time, Gojo convinces himself that he can be satisfied merely as a shadow in your life, lingering on the periphery, unseen yet ever-present. But as each day passes, witnessing your coworker's blatant glances towards you, Jesus, the short skimpy clothes you wear, the delicate balance begins to fracture. The urge to step out from the shadows and into the light is starting to grow to hard to resist.

The tension reaches its crescendo one evening as he watches from your window—a routine that has become his dark solace. You're preparing for bed, the familiar motions shadowed in the dim light. As you slip under the covers, a sudden sound pierces the silence: moans, soft and whining, drift through the air.

Are you, touching yourself?

Gojo freezes, his heart stuck in his throat. He doesnt know what to do. The sound of your moans cuts through the stillness, sending his heart into a frantic rhythm and hout blood coursing to his dick.

"Fuck." He groans, feeling his member strain against his black pants. His resolve is slowly snapping by the second. With a mixture of urgency and caution, he silently eases the window open and slips into the room.

Shit shit shit.

He approaches your bed, his breath is held tight in his chest as he takes in the sight before him. Your face is contorted in pleasure, lips slightly parted, a soft pant escaping them—each detail more intoxicating than the last. Under the covers your hand shifts, fingers moving back and forth. His heart hammers against his ribs, disbelief mingling with raw emotion as he realizes you're completely absorbed in your own world, unaware of his presence.

It's not until he looms over you that you finally sense another presence, snapping your eyes open to gasp, "Who are you?"

"Shhh baby I'm not here to hurt you I promise," Gojo whispers, a gentle yet firm assurance in his tone, "I'm here to help you okay? You can call me Satoru."

Confusion flickers across your face as you stammer, "What I don't—" Your instinct is to retreat, but he gently pins you down, his hands firm yet careful.

"It's okay, it's okay, baby," he soothes, his tone meant to calm and reassure you in the soft darkness.

Unsure why, you find yourself yielding to the comforting timbre of his voice, allowing him to press tender, feathery kisses along your chin.

"I'm gonna make you feel better better ok?" He hums and you're too engrossed in the feeling of his kisses on your skin that you barely notice he is pulling your underwear down your legs.

"Wait, i don't, this is-" you stutter but your words melt away as soon as you feel his warm touch on your stomach. Shit, you know you should resist, you know how wrong this is—a stranger in your room, touching you in such an intimate manner. Yet, there he is, devastatingly handsome under the shadowy caress of the night, his piercing blue eyes locking with yours, filled with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. His voice, smooth and soothing, weaves through the thick air, and despite the alarm bells ringing in your mind, you're desperate for the relief he seems to offer.

You sharply gasp when you feel him slide a long finger between the lips of your cunt, collecting your juices before bringing them up to your sensitive clit.

"Already so wet aren't you."

Without a warning, Gojo slips a finger into your gummy walls and curls toward your belly button.

"M'Satoru!" You gasp. The foreign intrusion knocks the wind out of you and your hips instinctively buck into the air, your toe-curling from the sudden pleasure. You dont know it but Gojo is struggling to maintain his composure as well. The reality of your whines, the softness of your insides, surpasses even the wildest of his fantasies.

"This is bad baby, really bad, I don't think I can just touch you here." Gojo chokes out with a groan.

You dumbly nod, too lost in the pleasure to notice the unbuckling of Gojo’s pants. The pressure of his fat tip against your quivering hole is exhilarating and you can’t help but hold your breath as he finally pushes in. You let out a loud moan when you feel his tip smush against your cervix once he gets down to the last inch.

"Ah-Ah ah oh god," Gojo groans. He mentally curses himself that he could ever think his hand could replace the feeling of your cunt. "You feel good baby? Because I feel so good, you feel so good." Gojo is babbling now as he thrusts in and out of you.

You had no strength to answer him, only offering wanton moans in retort as he continued to wreck your body with his completely brutal thrusts. The pain of him hitting the tip of your cervix nearly every time mixed his messy kisses on your mouth made your brain grow light and fuzzy.

Gojo thinks that if there is a heaven, this is surely it. All those times watching you, following you home, fantasizing about this exact moment—none of it prepared him for the overwhelming reality of being inside you, of fucking you. He can practically feel your heartbeat sync with his, the sheer intensity of this connection he had desired since he laid eyes on you made him realize something he never did before; he needs you all to himself. forever.

Gojo uses you like his personal cock sleeve, shapes your insides and bruises your cervix until your entire body jolts with sensitivity; ripping orgasm after orgasm from you. His balls slap against your ass with every drop and he retracts his hips until the tip pokes out to admire the sheen dripping to his base before fitting himself back into your snug walls and spilling ropes upon ropes of cum into your womb

Your body trembled from the overwhelming hotness and he smoothed a hand over your bloating stomach.

“Shhh, take it. Take it all,” he crooned.

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

Hello! I would like to make a request about Dae-Ho, a character I love. I would like the story to show how Dae-Ho and the reader develop a special connection during the games, despite being on opposite sides. She is part of Thanos' team, but they still interact frequently. On one of those nights, they kiss and promise to get to know each other better once it's all over. However, that promise is not fulfilled because she dies in the carousel game.

I hope this story fits the bill. Happy holidays! <3

Anything Is Possible?

KANG DAE-HO X READER

Summary- You are number 230's, rapper Choi Su-bong, sister. Just because you are on 'Thanos Team', does that mean you can Dae-Ho cant get together? Will you survive long enough?

Warnings- Squid Games, Angst, mentions of blood, murder, and death

A/N- I combined this ask with another anon request, "badass reader and daeho! maybe she is related to 100 and that's why the romance is kind of forbidden but she doesn't agree with his actions and thinks daeho is very cute. I would love a first kiss between the two, which she initiated and he was all embarrassed but really excited" I hope y'all don't mind, they were very similar!

Word Count- 4,605

"What is your problem!" You found yourself yelling at your brother. While this was not uncommon, the situation surely was. Thanos the rapper, or just known as Choi Su-bong to you, had pushed several people down on purpose. This killed them in the Red light, Green light game.

"You killed them!" You continued, though he did not seem to care.

"Look, as far as 'The Thanos' is concerned, each body means more cash for MOI!" He spoke, uncaring.

"Oh, and if it was me, would you let me get shot!" You crossed your arms, eyeing him up and down.

He looked around, checking for any guards. He then slipped out his cross form under his shirt. You knew he had some kind of drug in there.

"Look, if it will shut you up, you can have one. But keep your mouth closed!" He ushered his cross in your direction. You rolled your eyes.

"I'd like to at least be aware of my surrounding in a death defying game!" "Shhh, Shhhh!" His face scrunched up as he looked at you, offended. He thought someone might have been drawn to your choice words.

You scoffed and walked off, sitting on the edge of a bed to catch a train of thought.

With a puff, you pressed your head into your hands. Could you really go on like this? Risking your life? Then it hit you, your life was over either way. Loan sharks were bound to kill you the second you left... Might as well go out with a bang?

The gruesome thought lingered until you felt the bed sink next to you.

"Thanos, I don't want to-" You looked up to not see your brother. Instead a man with a '388' on his jacket.

"Well I'm not sure who 'Thanos' is, but are you doing okay?" He looked genuinely concerned.

You started at him for a second, "Like fifty people just died..."

He faltered, "W-well yeah... Obviously you aren't okay... I just, I saw you arguing with that guy... The one with purple hair." You sigh again at his response. Well, this might be the last conversation you ever have. Why not be an open book!

"That's my brother. He thinks since he got one hit song, he can boss anyone around." You again rolled your eyes at the thought of him.

"Oh... I see. I-I have three older sisters, I know how it can get." He said, trying to offer you some sort of condolence.

You gave a side smile at him, appreciative of his efforts. "Thanks... What got you into these games?" You figured there's no reason for 'proper exchanges.' What was the point anymore?

He seemed ashamed at the question. "Sorry, if it makes you feel any better- I'm about 30 million won in debt. Some online crypto coin my brother swindled me into. Lost big time." You explained.

He shook his head, "No, no, its fine. See, I was a marine. Couldn't find a job after I got out. Guess I just got carried away with the wrong people... Got into some bad loans."

You gave a sympathetic face. "That sucks..." He just nodded sheepishly.

A silence fell between you two, but it wasn't awkward or annoying. It just...was.

"Well, uh, which are you going to vote?" He asked like it had been on the tip of his tongue all day.

As the Guards had told us earlier, we would get a chance to vote before the next game. Stay or Go.

"My brother seems pretty adamant on staying... And I honestly don't think it would be smart to piss him off anymore. He's got me in his little clique already." You didn't really know which one you would have chosen if the vote was anonymous.

He nodded in understanding. "I mean, I don't have a groupie or anything. But, you could stick with me if you wanted."

Your heart fluttered. Looking up at him, you seemed to just notice how handsome he was... Then reality hit.

"I deeply appreciate that... But I think you might have better odds without me. Choi- uh Thanos, would probably do something to you... I don't really want to risk it, I'm sorry." You knew that you really did want to be on his team, but you also knew how your brother was.

He had a slight look of defeat on his face, "I get it. I feel confident about the next game. I mean, if they're all children games, how hard can it be? I'll vote the same as you."

You agreed, "Then, maybe I can talk to Thanos? See if he wants another member?" You smiled at him.

He opened his mouth to speak, happily, but the two of you were interrupted when the pink guards came back in. Letting everyone know it was time to vote.

"See ya on the other side." You said, standing up to rejoin Thanos. Plus his newly acquired group of 3.

"Yes ma'am!" He responded, giving a small salute. You just laughed as you glanced at him a last time.

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

"Are you crazy!" Thanos whisper-yelled at you, turning the two of you away from the group. "Are you tryna embarrass me in front of my boys!" He scolded you like a child. His arms and shoulders going up.

"It's not that big of a deal, he was a marine, he could be good for us." Thanos just "tsked' in response.

"No. We are already perfecto. No more room." He said as-a-matter-of-fact. His arms making an 'X.'

You turned and looked at the two men staring at you. "Thanos, there are four of us in total. What if the next game is five players!"

"Huh, and what if its four! Then I'd be pushing YOU out, Cause of ya mouth." He made faces at you, then laughed loudly. "I'm just joking sistah! I'd only do that if you really pissed me off.... We are sticking to four." His expression turned serious.

"Fine."

At a mere coincidence, you turned around and saw '388' staring at you. You mouthed a 'sorry' and shook your head. Signalling Thanos said 'no.'

He nodded, then smiled at you anyways. At that, you watched him walk over and sit with a group of 'X's.

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

The lights soon went out. You laid back in your bed, trying to get some kind of sleep. It was useless, especially when you heard a 'psst' right next to you.

You turned your head, playing cool, even though it did startle you a bit. "Shh, It's just me." The voice rang familiar, and when you squinted your eyes in the dark your made out number 388's face. He was on his knees, crouched down next to your bed.

"What are you doing!" You whispered at him, sitting up quickly. Thanos and his two members were just a bed away.

"Shhhh, I have something to tell you." He said, his hands were waving slightly, a nervous tick.

You eyed him, moving closer. "What?"

"One of the guys has played these before. He said he won the games...That he knows which one is next."

Your hands rise to rub sleep from your eyes, "Really? You think he's telling the truth?"

With a frantic nod he continues, "It was the guy who knew about the Red light, Green light. Number 456."

You looked down, "Why are you telling me this..." You questioned, unaware of any kind of unconditional kindness.

"I want you to survive, why else?" You locked eyes with him. They were honest and pure.

"Well, what's the next game?" You didn't know how to respond to such generosity. For all he knew you would stab him in the back. Not that you could bring yourself to, not after he snuck over to tell you.

"He said its Dalgona. Ya know, the game where you scratch out the candy shape?" You knew the game, having played it in your youth.

"Make sure you pick the Triangle. It's the easiest one." You nodded.

At that, a shuffle made both of you turn your head. Thanos moved in his sleep, rolling over. His eyes were closed, but he was now facing you.

"You better go, in case he wakes up." You warned, not wanting any drama.

His head shook in agreeance, he raised to walk off.

"Wait!" You whispered, he looked back. "What's your name?"

"Dae-Ho. Dae-ho Kang."

"Thank you, Dae-ho..." The corners of your face rose, almost grinning at yourself saying his name.

He gave a small wave of his hand, another salute. You suppressed a giggle, and laid back down. Sleep came easier this time...

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

"Welcome to your second game, this game will be played in teams. Please divide into teams of five in the next ten minutes."

You looked around, Dalgona was not a team game. Had Dae-Ho lied to you? No, why else would he sneak over in the middle of the night. It didn't make sense. Maybe 456 was lying?

"Should have listened to me, now we have to find another person." You remarked to your brother, smugly.

"Trust trust, my skeptic sister. Thanos has got this under control!" He spoke about himself, immediately levitating to the closest attractive women. You, once again, found yourself rolling your eyes.

"Señorita, excuse me?" You wanted to physically face palm at his attempt at a pickup line.

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

Quickly enough, time selection was up. Everyone was orderly sat in their groups. Conveniently, Dae-Ho and his group sat behind you.

"Dae-Ho." You called, moving to be in his range of sight.

"Ahh, hey!" He said, excitedly. His demeanor changing from skittish when he saw you.

"So, what happened to Dalgona?" You asked, not blaming him- just curious.

He gave an unsure face, equally as confused. "He said the games must not be the same. I'm sorry."

"What for?" You beamed, knowing it was not his fault.

He laughed, "I guess I don't know.."

You just shook your head humorously. "Which game are you going to do?"

"Uhmm, Gong-Gi... My sister's played it a lot, so I'm used to it."

"They've got me doing spinning top. I was never any good at Gong-Gi." You made a glance to Thanos, he was high out of his mind. You caught him slipping Nam-Gyu a pill. He didn't notice you talking to Dae-Ho.

"I wish you the best of luck!" He gave a quick bow of the head.

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

The game went smoothly enough. Though, it took much longer than Red light, Green light. Watching all of the teams go one at a time was excruciating.

A handful of words exchanged with Dae-Ho while waiting was calming, it grounded you. He had nothing to gain by helping you, he simply did. It was flattering.

You and Dae-Ho had figured out that his team was going last. It was nerve-wracking to think about him not making it. No one had ever effected you like this before...

Eventually your team went, suffering frequent verbal degration from Thanos and Nam-Gyu. Thankfully your team made it with 8 seconds to spare. Too close for your comfort.

The worst part came when you had to wait. You felt like you could hear a large clock ticking right by your ear.

Would Dae-Ho's team make it? You didn't doubt his Gong-Gi skills, but he was dependent on the skills of his team mates as well. It was terrifying to think they were shot with not enough time to complete the games.

You couldn't bare Thanos bantering, he complained about every survivor. It just made you more paranoid about Dae-Ho's possible death.

Trying to settle your mind, you stepped away from your group, preferring to sit by yourself on the edge on the steps. You picked at your nails, praying he would make it.

Minutes and minutes went by. No one had come out in a while. Was the game finished? Did they die?

Just as you were about to return to your brother hopeless, one last group appeared.

A gasp left you as you watched Dae-Ho's team emerge. You stood up, cheering with a handful of other players. Your hands were clasped gleefully In front of you.

Dae-Ho's gaze was fixed on you, he chuckled. His first raised in victory.

You gave him a salute back.

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

You managed to slip away from Thanos. He was too busy hitting on Se-Mi. You were grateful for her, it took some of the pressure and attention off of you. You had to remember to thank her later.

"Dae-Ho!" You called out, he turned around and stepped away from his group.

"You were amazing! You went 'Wooshhh' and got the top first try!" He was practically bouncing on his heels. He mimicked the process of spinning a top with his hands and body.

"Thank you, Thank you." You pretended like you were bowing to an applauding audience.

"How did Gong-Gi go?" You asked, antsy. He rubbed the back on his neck.

He grinned deep, "Would you believe me if I said I got it first try too?"

Your face lit up, "Really!"

"I swear it!" He placed a hand across his chest.

You gave a quick clap to him, "I knew you could do it!"

You felt like a schoolgirl again. Talking to Dae-Ho made you feel like a blushing bride. He was such a ray of light and hope for you.

"What do you think the next game is?" He questioned, taking a seat on a step by the large doors.

You thought for a second, "I don't know, Maybe some kind of mind game. Since the last two have been really physical."

He nodded, "Yeah, maybe, maybe. Thats smart thinking."

You joined him on the step facing him. While you were about to change the conversation, you overheard a few people talk about what they were voting next. It reminded you of the real life-or-death situation you were in.

"So, d'ya think you're going to change your vote?" You became more solemn.

"...Yeah, I just... The others have convinced me. I mean, truly, I shouldn't have voted 'stay' in the first place..." He looked down, almost as if he had disappointed you.

"Honestly, Dae-Ho... I want to leave too... But, but, what if I press 'leave', and we still have to continue the games. Then Thanos would be pissed, and deep down I need him. He's still my brother." You hated the fact, but you were scared of what Thanos would do.

Dae-Ho thought for a moment. He mumbled something you didn't quite catch. "What?" He stood up.

"I can protect you. Honest. With my life." Your breath hitched, you stood up as well.

You shook your head, a lump forming in your throat. "Oh Dae-Ho... That's just the thing. I can't have you risking your life. Not for me."

He gently lifted your hands into his. "You are worth risking my life for."

"Dae-Ho, you don't even know my name." Your voice quivered.

He nodded quick, "Then lets change that. What's your name." You bit your bottom lip before telling him.

"Now, I can defend you from Thanos. He won't do anything to do." He ended with your name, it sounded angelic coming from his mouth.

"I'm sorry... I just... can't." You let go of his hands, fully set on walking away. But, he stopped you. He grasped your shoulder.

"Please don't go. I'll stop talking about it, I swear." He pleaded. He truly just wanted to be with you, he was content with you.

And you were with him.

You closed your eyes, shook your head. You fought off any kind of objection. "Okay."

The two of you talked and talked, time ran past. You no longer seemed to worry about the games, just that you knew you wanted to stay with Dae-Ho.

Until, the large doors opened and the pink guards once again announced a vote.

You said a quick 'goodbye' to Dae-ho, hoping the games wouldn't continue. Even if you never saw him again, at least he would be alive.

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

Much to your dismay, the games would continue another round. The vote wasn't even close this time. It was almost relieving, knowing that your vote was not the determining factor.

Once again, the lights went out to signify the night. You noticed teams were huddling together for protection, taking shifts and keeping watch. It was getting more serious as each hour went by. You could not find rest, feeling extremely uneasy.

While you tried to find some sort of reassurance in Thanos, he was fast asleep. You decided to take your chance and go see Dae-Ho. Just as he had done for you.

You knew the general area where his group was, but couldn't make out specific people in the dark. Not from your distance.

You racked up the nerve to quietly shuffle over. Your socks helping to muffle any noise.

"Shh, someone is coming." You heard a man whisper, it was 456. You could see the large numbers next to the 'O' on his jacket.

"I-is Dae-Ho with you..." You ask, shakily.

"And what do you want with him?" A man next to 456 spoke, defensively.

"I- Hes my friend, I need to talk to him." You tried, fiddling with your fingers.

"Yeah, Sure he is. You're probably trying to get in and take one of us out, huh!" The man 390 rose, acting like he was ready to fight.

You stepped back, "No, really, I swear I'm not!"

You heard your name, a confused Dae-Ho crawled out from under a bed. "Dae-Ho, please tell them in not trying to kill any of you."

"What?" He was still weary from sleep, rubbing his eyes. Once he saw the position you and 390 were in, He quickly stepped between the two of you.

"No, No, she wouldn't do that. Really, whatever shes saying she's telling the truth." Dae-Ho came to your rescue.

"Can we talk Dae-Ho?" You stepped closer to him, both of your hands gently resting on his arm. He nodded rapidly, stepping away from his group.

The two of you found a cluster of abandoned beds, and sat on the floor between them

"Are you okay? Did someone hurt you?" He looked you over for any visible infliction's.

"No, no I'm fine..." You pulled your knees to your chest. "I just wanted to see you." You felt silly once it left your lips.

His face flushed beet red, you could even tell in the dark. His hair falling in his face made you reach a hand out and brush it back. "O-oh"

"You never told me what you think the next game is, Dae-Ho." You needed a distraction.

He shook his head, like he was getting some thoughts out. "I have no idea... I just hope its an easy one. Gi-Hun, uh 456, said that they've already played Tug-of-war, Marbles, and some kind of glass stepping game. So, uh, I would assume none of those would repeat."

"I'm glad I missed Tug-of-war... That would mean the number of survivors would be half..." You thought.

He changed the subject, beginning with your name. "What's wrong? I know you said you wanted to see me, but, I guess I don't understand why."

"Dae-Ho, I don't really know why either. I just, wanted to be with you. I feel safe with you. I feel like I'm alone anytime you walk away..." You blinked away a stray tear.

Dae-Ho was lost in thought, he had thought his feelings weren't reciprocated. Maybe they were after all?

He didn't have time to speak, because you have lounged yourself forward in a burst of confidence. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and pushed him to the floor. He was laid on his back with you on top of him, as you pressed a hard kiss to his lips.

His eyes widened, his body went rigid. When you pulled away to look at him, he stammered. "I-I, Uhm."

At his reaction you pulled away quickly, "I'm so sorry, I thought-"

"Can you please do that again." He was now giddy, a fat smile on his face. Excitement radiated out of him. "A-are you sure.. You seemed so..."

"No, no, you just caught me off guard, please, please kiss me again." He scrambled to a sit, hoping you would come closer again.

With a refound joy, you moved closer. This time you went slow, making sure to bask in the moment. You once again wrapped your arms around Dea-Ho's neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

"You're perfect.." He mumbled against your lips. Though, he felt something wet on his face. He pulled away, his eyes soft, "Whats wrong?"

You sniffled, "Promise me. Promise me, that after everything is over, that we will find each other." You asked, pressing your cheek against his.

"I swear it, I swear we will meet after the games." He leaned in for another kiss.

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

"Welcome to your third game. The game you will be playing is Mingle."

Okay, this one seemed safe. You had a large group, this can work. You tried to be positive, you had someone to look forward to after the game.

"Heyyy, we'll be mingling together. Doesn't that sound like so much fun?" Thanos went on, trying to hype everyone up. The only one who was just as high as him was Nam-Gyu. It worried you that he wasn't fully aware of his surroundings, but at least he wasn't on your tail about everything.

"Please step onto the center platform. When the game starts, the platform will begin to rotate, and you will hear a number. You must form groups of that size, go into the rooms, and close the door within 30 seconds."

You nodded, understanding the rules. Everyone gathered to the platform. You noticed groups staying together, huddling close.

While following Thanos, you passed Dae-Ho's group, you caught his eye and gave him a small salute. It seemed the two of you now had an inside joke.

"Let the game, begin."

At the jump and pull of the platform, you almost lost your balance. You reached a hand out and held onto your brother. He looked over at you, for a split second he actually seemed like your brother. He was there for you.

That's until a muffled snort came from Nam-Gyu. Thanos pushed your hand off, laughing at you.

You sighed and thought of a smart remark, but the platform stopped spinning and a 'Ten' rang out.

Thanos laughed loudly, "We needa four!!" He screamed, shaking his face all about.

"Were four!" A man yelled back, and Thanos took off running. Your eyes widened and you ran after him. "Run, Hurry!" You yelled at Se-Mi, who had stopped to grab Min-Su.

Luckily everyone had made it to the room, just as the door shut the timer went off. The door locked shut. You peaked out of the doors small slit. You didn't see Dae-Ho. A good sign.

Multiple gunshots rang out, each making your body jolt.

"Ha Ha! My family! We did it!" Thanos bantered, clapping some of the men on their backs.

When the doors finally opened again, you looked around. You looked and looked for Dae-Ho. Finally sighing in relief when you saw him. He ran over to you.

"You're okay, thank God!" He hugged you, you held him tight.

You swallowed hard, "It's not over yet. I'll find you after the next round!" You said, quickly finding Thanos again.

"Yeahhhh! Easyyy!" Him and Nam-Gyu joked back and forth. They started dancing to the music as the platform started rotating again.

'Four'

Thanos stopped and looked at his group for a minute. "Gyeong-su, you're with me!" He grabbed his hand, pulling him.

"Damn!" Nam-Gyu said, gripping your arm and pulling you. While you were happy to be chosen, you were worried for Min-su and Se-Mi.

"Lets goooo!" Thanos yelled once we were all in the room.

"Thanos what was that! Gyeong-su over me!" You pointed your finger at him.

"I swear I thought I was pulling you! Besides, you gotta stop running your mouth. You made it, you're fine!"

You couldn't believe what he was saying. Sure, he talked a lot about leaving you. But it was always just talk? Right?

The door opened once again, you were thankful to be away from Thanos. Your new objective was to find Dae-Ho now.

This time, the second you saw him- you ran to him. You no longer cared about what Thanos thought, nor what he'd do.

"I'm so happy to see you." Dae-Ho mumbled into your hair, which his face had been shoved into right after you ran into his arms.

"I have to stay with you, Thanos tried to leave me. I can't make it with him." Dae-Ho didn't hesitate, and pulled you over to his group.

Though, Thanos didn't like that. "Yo, brotha. What're you doing with my sister!" He tried to shove Dae-Ho, but he was bigger and stronger.

The platform started to spin.

"Leave her alone, you obviously cant take care of your sister." He ushered you behind him.

"I don't know what you're talking about bro! I save her, shes only alive because of me and Nam-Gyu!" He argued, leaving out the crucial part of information where he wasn't the one who grabbed you.

"It doesn't matter anymore. I will keep her safe now, you can mind your own business and get along with Nam-Gyu."

They continued to yell and argue over the carousel's music, it was difficult to hear them. Until,

'Three'

Thanos gripped one of your arms, Dae-Ho held another.

"Thanos, let go!" You yelled, trying to pull from his grasp.

It was chaotic, screaming was heard around you. "Dae-Ho, this way!" Two men yelled out, Dae-Ho twisted his head but didn't move.

Your stomach dropped. You couldn't be the reason Dae-Ho would die. You were all running out of time.

"Dae-Ho, go. Please! I'll go with Thanos and Nam-Gyu!"

"I'm not leaving you!" He was adamant about protecting you. Damned everyone else.

"If you don't go, we will all die. Time is running out!" Dae-Ho battled internally, you let go of his hand.

"Go! It's okay, I'll see you in a minute!"

He didn't want to leave, he couldn't. But you made him. When he slowly walked backwards, you let out a relived sigh. You then turned to run with Thanos. Nam-Gyu was already in a room, his yelling ushering you two forward.

It was going to be okay, The three of you in a room. Everything was fine. There was time.

Until, Nam-Gyu moved out of the way... Gyeong-su was behind him... There was already two in the room. Thanos ran in, not thinking twice.

Your running came to a stop right outside of the door. Where Thanos himself had closed it on you.

A "NO!" Was heard from across the room. It was Dae-Ho. He tried to come to you, but he was too far.

Player 456 and player 001 were pulling him into a room. Forcing the door shut. You could see Dae-Ho looking out of the door slit, his hands peaking out as well.

You didn't turn to see what Thanos might have been doing. You didn't care. Not anymore.

You just wanted your last moment to be looking at the most handsome man you'd ever met. His soft eyes were filled with tears as he watched you.

You weren't upset, not scared, not nervous. Not anymore.

It would all be over soon.

You gave him one last salute before a loud bang rang out.

A/N- Not going to lie ya'll, I ate that up. But I still love hearing y'all's constructive criticism! Please LMK if you want to be added to my tag list, TYSM for reading!

Dae-Ho Taglist- @fuzzyscissorsmakerpie-blog @thethreeeyed-raven

[emelinstriker]

{Eternal Servants AU} Macaque ♤ Sounds of Silence

Art drawn by me + the AU is mine.

Just a smol little hurt/comfort drabble on the topic of ESAU!Macaque being unable to sleep alone in a room.

[TL;DR] Macaque hears the voice again.

♤ ~ Comfort ~ ♤

The dark-furred simian woke up in a cold sweat, hyperventilating as this damned voice invaded his mind again. Macaque held his hands over his six ears as he desperately tried to silence the corrupted whispery voice. "No... N-No... Shut up.. S-Shut.. up..."

Usually the voice wouldn't be a problem had Wukong been in the room, or anyone else for that matter. But he noticed very quickly when he woke up that he was alone...

All alone...

Tears welled up in his eyes at the voice. Everytime he heard it getting louder, the more he felt like he was losing himself.

Suddenly, he jumped onto his feet, his hands still desperately covering his six ears as he tried thinking of what to do. His mind felt like it was slowly melting as he quickly opened a shadow portal beneath him, making his panicked self fall through. Unlike his usually controlled and smooth movement when landing, he straight up fell onto something soft, his eyes were shut as he landed face first on the fabric.

That's when he noticed the voice getting quieter until it disappeared again. He was still hyperventilating as he looked up, noticing he was on someone's bed.

And not just anyone's bed.

"Mhm... What the wha... Mac..? Is that you..? Did you have a nightmare..?" You asked him tiredly, your words slurred a bit as you tried making out his silhouette. The only thing that made you know that this had to be your purple champion were his ears and tail.

Macaque hiccupped as he quickly crawled up to you, hugging you tightly while he felt you sitting up straighter to hug him back.

Now very much concerned, you gently rubbed his back as you comforted him, letting him cry into the crook of your neck. "Shhh... It's okay... You're alright... I'm here, Mac... I'm here...", you soothed him softly, swaying just a bit to try calm him down from his panic attack. The moment he loosely wrapped his tail around your waist was when you knew it was slowly working. After a while, the dark-furred simian's breathing became a lot more regular as you told him to take a deep breath, count to three, and exhale a few times. Once he was only sobbing a bit you decided to ask him, "Are you feeling better now? Did you have a nightmare?"

"I-It wasn't a nightmare, Master... I just... heard the voice again... Wukong wasn't in the room..." He responded shakily as he nuzzled into your shoulder to calm down. Sighing you kissed the top of his head, making his breath hitch as he kept desperately holding onto you, almost as if he was afraid you would disappear.

The monkey, finally having mostly calmed down, left a soft little kiss on your neck. "...Thank you, Master... For not leaving me."

That reminded you... Why did Wukong leave their room in the middle of the night anyway?

Suddenly, as if to answer your question, the door swung open and whoever entered was so inhumanely fast they were already next to your bed in a heartbeat, while the wind of their speed hit you in the face. Judging by the silhouette, you knew this had to be Wukong himself. It was too dark to see his expression, but his posture seemed to have been in a rather worried panic.

"Master, I felt a spike in-" He then stopped himself as he notices Macaque hugging you tightly in bed. He just stood there for a few seconds before realization set in. He sighed, "I'm... I'm so sorry, Macaque..." Your blue champion then got tackled into a hug by your purple champion, who sniffled into the older monkey's shoulder, Clearly having missed the presence of the other simian. Especially under these circumstances.

Turns out Wukong had left because he went to grab a small nighttime snack, but forgot to wake up the other monkey. He knew it was his fault for not waking up Macaque or taking him with him, and he felt extremely guilty for it as it reminded him of when the two of them became servants.

"I'm sorry for leaving...", Wukong mumbled repeatedly. You barely heard him profusely apologize, but Macaque heard it all, which made him hold onto his brother tighter. You smiled softly as you heard Wukong comfort Macaque. Despite barely being able to make out what was happening in the darkness, since unlike them you didn't have enhanced night vision, you knew they were hugging it out. And that was quite sweet to witness due to how rarely Wukong ever showed his emotional side in general.

"If you two want, you can sleep with me for the night. At least it might calm Mac down better", you offered as you scooted over to the middle of the master bed. While Wukong took his time joining you, Macaque was all too eager and jumped at the opportunity, happily snuggling into your side, holding onto you like a koala. If you listened closely, you could hear the faint rumble of a purr, confirming he was comfortable with his position.

Eventually you fell back asleep. This time safe and sound between two of your champions.

[ Masterlist ]

[illyrianbitch]

A Place for Dying

Pairing: Reader x Cassian

Summary: A mission with Cassian goes terribly wrong.

Warnings: major angst, mentions and depiction of gore, injury, battle, death.

Word Count: 2.3k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The rain lashed down in relentless torrents as the sounds of clashing steel filled the air.

You didn’t know where they came from or how they managed to sneak up on you and Cassian so swiftly— appearing as if conjured by the storm itself. Within seconds you were swarmed.

The male in front of you was unlike any you’ve faced before, eyes ablaze with an eerie light as he attacked. You parried his blows with all your skill, but the mud beneath your feet made your movements slow and predictable, and his skill was otherworldly— something far sinister than what you’d been trained to fight. From the corner of your eye, you could see Cassian locked in combat with two other males, hair matted and siphons glowing angrily as he moved.

And then a searing pain exploded in your abdomen.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as you glanced down, watching in horror as a sword was drawn from your abdomen, coated in blood. You felt your own weapon slipping from your now lax grip as your hand found its way to your gaping wound. A faint scream echoed in your ears as you looked up, meeting the male's triumphant grin, his sword poised to deliver the final blow.

Within a seconds, there was a second figure before you as a flash of red glow and power surged.

But you weren’t paying attention as your legs gave way beneath you.

You felt yourself falling, the world spinning as a fuzzy darkness crawled into your eyesight. You blinked. Cassian was there, hands reaching out to catch you and pull you into him.

"Shit, shit," he cursed under his breath. "Shit."

"Cassian," you croaked. Your voice was barely a whisper against the roar of the storm, a painful groan that made his stomach clench. His gaze swept over the chaos around you, the soaked mud now scarcely decorated with the bodies of the fallen soldiers. He looked over briefly at the male that had stabbed you, now lying lifeless where Cassian had struck him.

"You're okay, you're good," Cassian said. He attempted to readjust himself, wrapping an arm around your torso as he pulled your other around his shoulders. His body groaned in response, searing pain igniting through his torn clothes.

"Cass, I can't—I can't.”

"Shhh," Cassian said. He took a deep breath as he began to walk forward, surveying his surroundings for the next possible move. "Don't speak. I got ya."

His shredded wings hung limp behind him, now sodden and stained with mud. You hung from him completely, unable to keep yourself up as your legs dragged behind you with every move. Cass clenched his teeth, his mind blurring out the pain of his own injuries to focus solely on you. Any wrong move could worsen your injuries. He needed to find a place to rest, to wait for Rhysand or Azriel.

Your grip tightened on your stomach, trying to staunch the flow of blood as Cassian's hand now covered yours.

"Cass," you rasped.

He kept moving, his body protesting with every step forward.

"Rhys and Az will be here, okay?" Cassian replied, his voice strained with the effort of masking his own fear. "Let me just get you somewhere safe."

"We don't have time."

Cassian shook his head, his feet dragging through the mud as he continued. Everywhere in his body screamed with pain, his senses overwhelmed by the taste of blood in the air and the relentless pounding of the rain. He could feel the weight of you pulling on him getting worse as you weakened, the strain growing in the tension of his muscles as he struggled to keep moving.

Through the hand that covered yours, Cassian could feel the blood seeping through your fingers. He fought to distract himself from the sight and sensation, focusing instead on the rhythm of his own breath, the steady beat of his heart. He needed to think.

He whispered silent prayers to whatever gods may be listening, willing you to hold on just a little while longer. But the taste of blood lingered in his mouth and every scream in his mind was met with empty silence. A deep sense of foreboding settled in his gut, a primal instinct that warned him that you might be vulnerable to yet another ambush. He also knew, deep down, that Rhys and Az wouldn’t be coming anytime soon.

All he could do was wait, to get you settled somewhere so your body could begin to heal. That wouldn’t happen as long as he was dragging your body through mud and rain. With a determined mind, he steered you deeper into a grove of trees.

You reached a small clearing, the burden of the pouring rain now lessened by the canopy above you. Cassian leaned against a sturdy tree, carefully lowering you both down until you were cradled in his arms, your back pressed against his chest. You let out a choked sound of pain, eyes clenching as a wave of nausea ran through you.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

Cassian’s voice was a gentle caress. If you had the energy to pay attention, you would have noticed the fear that settled in it, the utter desperation.

Cassian let out a deep breath, his jaw set in determination as he lifted his hand to help you raise your shaky one, guiding it to apply more pressure to your wound. He could feel it underneath his fingertips, see it even through your black leathers, the blood pouring from you still. A knot tightened in his stomach.

He felt your shallow breaths against his chest as your trembling form leaned back against him. You closed your eyes and let your head fall backwards onto his shoulder.

"It's bad, isn't it?" you whispered.

Cassian took another deep breath, his mind racing as he fought to keep his composure for your sake. "Nothing you haven't faced before."

A small laugh escaped your lips. For a moment, Cassian's gaze softened as the sound filled his ears, a sense of comfort rolling through his body in a slow wave.

"Just keep the pressure on it, alright?"

You gave a shaky nod. "Okay.”

Cassian took a moment to assess the situation. Without any materials to staunch the bleeding, all he could do was wait and try to keep you distracted from the pain. He looked down at you, taking in the sight of your matted hair, drenched in mud and blood, streaks of crimson mingling with the rainwater on your face. Despite it all, you were still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Desperation clawed at him as he continued to plead with Rhys in his mind, willing his friend to come to your aid. But yet again, his cries were met with a deep, heavy silence. No response, no feeling of a message having been received. Cass wrapped himself around you even closer.

"It'll make a badass scar," he said.

Again, you managed a weak laugh, but it was cut short by a bubbling sound that sent a chill down Cassian's spine. He felt his stomach drop as he realized the source— blood gurgling from your throat, staining your perfect smile crimson.

With a trembling hand, Cassian cradled your head, pulling you closer to him, his own face hovering inches from yours in a desperate attempt to offer what little comfort he could. There was a painful pang in his chest as he felt your breaths becoming shallower. He gave you a gentle nudge.

"Hey, stay with me," he implored, voice laced with desperation. "Look at me.”

"I can't… I'm so tired," you replied weakly.

"Yes, you can," Cassian said. "I know it's hard, but you gotta keep those pretty eyes open, okay?"

"Cassian."

His name was a desperate plea, a sound of pure agony that fell from your lips.

"I know, I know," he murmured, his own voice choking. He cleared his throat. "But you gotta keep fighting, alright? Can you do that for me?"

You nodded faintly, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, "Okay."

"Good, good," Cassian said, his heart aching as he watched you struggle. "Let me see."

With great effort, you managed to tilt your head, your teary eyes meeting his. Cassian swallowed back his own tears, his voice trembling slightly as he whispered, "There they are."

Your brow furrowed in determination as you gathered the strength to speak, and you began, "Cass, I want you to know…"

But Cassian started shaking his head vehemently, his voice firm as he interrupted, "No, no."

"I should've told you sooner-”

Cassian's head continued to shake, his eyes pleading with you to stop. "Y/n, please.”

But you pressed on, the words tumbling from your lips despite his protests. "You need to know that I-"

"No," Cassian interrupted again, his voice desperate. "You can tell me when we get back. Don't say that."

"Cassian, please, let me-"

"No. You can tell me when we get back home," Cassian insisted once again, his eyes wide and desperate. "And then I can tell you I feel the same way. That I’ve felt the same way for centuries. And I can take you out on a real date. Do it all properly. Okay?"

You paused. After a moment, you quietly replied, "Okay."

Cassian leaned his head down, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head before resting his own against it. "Just a little longer," he whispered softly, “I promise.”

He knew it was wrong, that he shouldn’t be promising anything in your condition, that he should have let you speak. But Cassian refused. He refused because your words were those of a dying female, words of a confession that you’d release upon death. And you weren’t dying, not today. He refused.

So he focused on your body against him, playing another chaste kiss atop your head. He felt you shift slightly beneath him.

"Isn't that beautiful?"

Cassian frowned, pulling his eyes away from you to look at the view in front. Over the small clearing the setting sun shone through gaps within the trees. Cassian nodded, his eyes fixed on the horizon for a moment before he looked down at you, gaze tender and unwavering. "Breathtaking," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Those words were only for you.

"So beautiful.”

But as Cassian continued to hold you close, a sense of unease began to gnaw at him. Where were Rhysand and Azriel? Who else was hurt? What could he do to help you?

His thoughts ran through his mind, clumping into large knots he couldn’t read. But then, Cassian’s heart stopped, a surge of panic flowing through his body as he tightened his grip on your hand.

You weren’t moving beneath him. No shallow breaths, no coughing.

"Y/n?" he whispered, his hand moving to cradle your face, angling it towards him. “No, no, no.”

His hand trembled as he brushed your cheek, searching desperately for any sign of life. But there was no response, no flutter of eyelids or rise and fall of breath. And then he saw it—your eyes closed, your features peaceful in repose, the ghost of a weak smile.

His eyesight began to grow blurry as tears filled his eyes once more, now freely falling as he took you in. Cassian let his forehead fall to rest against yours as he began to sob, the weight of grief crushing him in its wake.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

The sun was gone by time Rhys and Azriel appeared, desperately running forward with bruised and bloodied faces. Rhys was the first to speak, his words tumbling out before he could fully take in the scene. "We came as fast as we could, there was an att—"

But his voice faltered the same second Az took a sharp inhale next to him.

Cassian sat before them, hair matted and wings limp around him, cradling your body in his hands. He brushed his thumb against your cheek, tears glistening in his eyes as he remained lost in his grief, not sparing his brothers a glance.

Without hesitation, Azriel's shadows swarmed around you, a protective cocoon enfolding your form. One shadow returned to him, and within seconds his expression dropped. He turned to Rhys with a shake of his head.

"I told her to stop," Cassian's voice trembled as he finally looked up, meeting their gazes. His face was still painted in blood and dirt, streaked by the rain and tears. There were bags under his eyes and a sense of despair they'd never seen before, not in the centuries he had existed. "I told her to wait until we got home to tell me."

He glanced down at you again, running a hand over your hair as he continued, "I didn't let her tell me she loved me." Each word hung heavy in the air, a tangible ache in his voice as he spoke.

Rhys stepped forward, clearing his throat as a deep sadness weighed in his stomach. "Cass—"

But Cassian shook his head, cutting him off. "I didn't get to tell her I love her."

Loved her, his mind reminded him. Loved her.

Rhys knelt down in front of him, exchanging a solemn glance with Azriel. He gave a nod with his head towards Cassian’s wings. It only took Azriel seconds to take in the state of them, torn and bloody, more of the membrane missing than what remained.

"We need to go home," Rhys said quietly, his hand resting on Cassian's shoulder. “You need Madja.”

But Cassian only shook his head as he pulled you closer.

"Just five more minutes," he pleaded, pressing his face to your head. He took a deep breath, his senses filled with the smell of dirt, sweat, and blood. But beneath it all, he caught a hint of you, of the smell he’d grown to love. A scent that felt like home.

He inhaled it deeply, savoring it and storing it away in his mind. He would never smell it again.

“Just five more minutes.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

me saying i need to get in the headspace of writing angst for one of my series parts and writing this teehee

also… isn’t it so sad when u realize they never ever kissed 😭(😋😋)

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: @rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites

[grandpeachpersona]

can u do a fic where joe has surgery and starts saying crazy stuff after anesthesia to the reader

Ask and you shall receive!

Joe Burrow x Black!oc Sierra Riley

Warnings: Fluff and Joe's medicate language.

Have you ever had that feeling when you wake up with a gut instinct that something bad is going to happen?

Well, it didn’t happen to me; it happened to Joe.

I was watching the Bengals vs. Ravens game from home when I saw Joe walk to the sideline with an unhappy expression on his face.

Then the cameras caught him attempting some practice throws when suddenly, his wrist gave out, and he squatted down in pain.

As an athlete myself, I recognize that reaction all too well: it’s an injury. Not the kind you can shake off to get back into the game, but one that requires surgery.

Now, here I am in the hospital waiting room while Joe is in surgery for his wrist.

“Family for Burrow,” one of the nurses called as she entered the waiting room.

I immediately stood up and approached her. “How did it go?” I asked as she led me down the hall.

She nodded with a smile. “It was successful—no problems at all.”

“Great,” I said, letting out a sigh of relief. “Can I see him?”

She stopped in front of a door, which I assumed was Joe's. “Sure. Just know he might still be sleeping because of the anesthesia, but feel free to go in anytime,” the older nurse said.

I nodded my head. “Thank you so much.”

“No problem. I hope he has a speedy recovery,” she replied as she walked away.

Me too... Me too.

I opened the door and stepped into the room, the door clicking shut behind me. I was greeted by the sight of a sleeping Joe. His hair was slightly messy, most likely from the hairnet.

I quietly pulled the chair closer to the bed, trying not to wake him. But despite my efforts, I heard a slight rustle of the sheets followed by a muffled groan

“Hey,” I said softly as I settled into the chair beside him, wincing slightly at the sterile smell of the recovery room.

Joe turned his head towards me, his expression sluggish, his eyelids drooping as if they carried the weight of the world. “Hi, I guess,” he mumbled, the words slurring together.

Suppressing a chuckle, I could already see where this conversation was headed, and I was determined to tease him mercilessly.

“You guess? Are you not happy to see me?” I asked, giving him a playful pout, my heart swelling at the thought of his reaction.

His brows scrunched together in confusion, but then his face lit up like a Christmas tree, the excitement radiating from him like the warmth of morning sunlight. “Oh, hi, baby!” Joe exclaimed, trying to lift his injured arm in a jubilant gesture, only to freeze as he remembered the constraints of his bandage.

I placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, my fingers trembling slightly, partly from his excitement and partly from concern. “Be careful, you're not even an hour out of surgery.”

“SURGERY,” he echoed, eyes growing wide like a child learning a new word for the first time.

Quickly, I raised my finger to my lips in a shushing motion. “Shhh,” I whispered, trying to keep the ambiance calm.

“Sorry,” he murmured back, his voice barely above a whisper. “Surgery,” he repeated, still in disbelief. I nodded my head reassuringly. “Yep.”

His gaze shifted down to the bulky cast encasing his arm, and a hint of worry flickered across his features. “I’ll be okay, right?” he asked, his lips forming a cute pout that tugged at my heartstrings.

With a small, warm smile, I replied, “You'll be one hundred percent before you know it.”

Silence settled between us for a few moments before Joe's attention was drawn to the TV mounted on the wall. The image on the screen captivated him: the Braves game was currently airing, their vibrant jerseys and energetic atmosphere almost tangible.

Suddenly, Joe grasped my hand with his good arm, his excitement palpable. “That’s you!”

Following his gaze to the TV and back to him, I nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, that’s me.”

“How are you there and here at the same time?” he asked, his eyes wide with amazement, as if he were trying to grasp a magical phenomenon.

I shook my head with a smile, my laughter bubbling just underneath the surface. “It’s an old game, baby.”

Joe smacked his lips in a playful manner. “Sure it is,” he drawled, his playful skepticism underlined with a grin. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

Furrowing my brows in mock confusion, I asked, “What secret?”

He beckoned me to lean closer, and I did, intrigued. He lowered his head and whispered conspiratorially into my ear, “That you can teleport.”

Deciding to play along with his fanciful notion, I grinned and asked, “You won’t tell anyone?”

He nodded seriously, letting go of my hand to place it over his heart, his expression earnest. “Scout's honor.”

“Good, now I’m holding you to it,” I pointed, my finger playfully accusing.

His gaze dropped again to his cast before returning to me, eyes filled with childlike sincerity. “How am I going to hold it?”

“In your heart,” I replied, laughter bubbling up again.

“How am I going to hold my heart?” he questioned, his tone imbued with genuine curiosity.

I shrugged, laughing a little. “I don’t know, with your hand, I guess.”

“But I can’t,” he whined, a pout forming on his lips once more. I fought to keep a straight face, biting my lip to stifle my laughter.

“Yes, you can. You have a whole other arm!” I replied, pointing out the obvious.

He glanced down at his left arm, the reality of his situation settling in. “I don’t like this one; I like this one,” he said, gesturing towards his uninjured arm, a touch of longing in his voice. “Will you hold my heart for me since I can’t?”

Hearing his sweet request made my heart flutter. I knew he was still under the influences of medication, but the sincerity in his eyes was unmistakable.

“Yes, baby, I will,” I promised softly, my voice barely above a whisper, knowing in that moment that I would always be there to hold his heart, no matter the circumstance.

[dairyfreenugget]

(Alt text under read more)

I wanted to draw him comforting them, these two having a good relationship means the world to me <3

+Bonus (You know when parents attack their kids with kisses or tickles to make them laugh and feel better after crying? Yeah, that)

ID start: A digital doodle of the Pale King and Pure Vessel from Hollow Knight as humans, drawn in all blue hues. The Pure Vessel is crying and in visible distress while the Pale King is holding them close in a hug, with one hand on their head and gently licking the bridge of their nose. He says; "Shhh...it's okay. You're okay." End ID.

ID start: A digital doodle of the Pale King and Pure Vessel from Hollow Knight as humans, drawn in all blue hues. The composition is similar to the previous doodle, but instead, the Pale King is kissing their face while they giggle and wiggle their long ears, with a big smile on their face and their tears dried. End ID.

[paulyenvol6]

Breathe

I struggle with breathing problems sometimes and I just imagined Daemon (or Matt Smith) comforting me when it's especially bad 🥹 Hope you enjoy it <3

Contains: anxiety, panic attack, breathing problems, a lot of comforting and sweet!husband Daemon

Wordcount: ~0.99k

Masterlist

In. And out. In. It wasn't enough.

Your eyes snapped open and you placed your hand on your chest feeling your rapid heartbeat.

Out.

Stumbling backwards you sat down on a chair and closed your eyes again surpressing a little cry. You wanted to force your lungs to open and let the air you needed so badly enter but you just couldn't do it.

Panic was creeping up on you and it didn't allow your body to relax and therefore to breathe properly so all you could do was try to greedily inhale as deeply as possible. But that clearly didn't work because the more you tried the less air came flooding in your system and you feared you might just suffocate like this.

Your hands gripped the edge of the table tightly and you were so concentrated on not allowing the tears in the corners of your eyes to spill that you didn't notice how the door opened and someone entered your chambers. Only when you heard the approaching steps did you lift your gaze and met with your husband's green eyes.

His face changed immediately when he saw your expression that was drawn with despair and the tears that threatened to roll down your cheeks and Daemon kneeled down in front of you.

"Y/n. Sweetling, what is it?" he whispered so softly that you couldn't help yourself and you started to sob.

"I-I can't b-breathe," you cried and your chest heaved quickly. Your hand pressed down on your chest as though you tried to show him what bothered you and you felt your husband place a hand on your thigh.

"It's okay, y/n. It's alright, I'm here."

If only it was that easy. You adored Daemon with your whole heart and his presence never failed to warm your heart but unfortunately it wasn't enough for a situation like this. When the air restriction was so strong, you felt like you were gonna die.

Seeing that you were seriously struggling, Daemon grabbed your upper arms and pulled you off the chair and into his arms. Your shaking hands grasped at his shoulders at once and you pressed your head against his chest.

"I-It's too much D-Daemon. I c-can't breathe, I-I…," you explained and your nails dug into his flesh, searching for help. He pressed kisses on your forehead while stroking your hair.

"It's okay, y/n," he cooed. "Listen to my voice, okay? You are so strong and I know that you got this. Your body is playing a trick on you right know but I know that you can do it. Just listen to my heartbeat and my voice. I'm right here and nothing's gonna happen to you, my love."

You let out a whine trying your very best to concentrate on what he said. His body so close to yours was what you needed but why was there still no air entering your body? You greedily sucked in the air but nothing seemed to get into your body where you needed it so badly. Daemon once again sensed your attempts and ran a hand over your back.

"Shhh, y/n. It'll be alright, I promise. You're doing so amazing and it will pass. You're safe like this, do you understand me?"

You whimpered with new tears spilling but nodded. Your eyes searched for his and he gently caressed your cheek.

"We'll go through this together and I'm not gonna leave you. Just breathe calmly and follow my voice, alright? You're not in danger, you're with me and I'll keep you safe."

You nodded rapidly and felt how he gently pressed your head against his chest.

"Breathe in, my love… And out."

You followed his directions listening precisely to his soft voice and slowly, just very slowly noticed how it got better. The dizziness started to fade, your heartbeat slowed down and there weren't any new tears forming in your eyes. Daemon sensed it as well.

"That's right, y/n. I love you so much and I know how strong you are. You're doing so amazing."

"Daemon," you whimpered clunging to his shirt. You didn't know how you would have handled this situation without your husband and in this moment you wanted nothing more than to melt with him and somehow show him how much you needed him.

"I know, sweetheart. I know. I'm right here and I'm not gonna leave you. Never."

He wrapped his arm around your back tighter and his left hand stroked your back while his right caressed the back of your head. You closed your eyes and took in his presence with all of your senses.

You heard his quiet voice, his steady breathing that calmed you in indescribable ways, inhaled his scent that reminded you of old parchment mixed with the smell of fresh rain and felt the warmth of his body. And whatever it was about him, it worked. Your lungs seemed to remember how to get air into your system and soon your breathing was almost as steady as his. Your chest rose peacefully and you opened your eyes again to look into his green ones that lovingly examined your face.

"How are you?" he asked while his hand held the side of your face.

"I'm better, Daemon. Thank you and… I'm sorry," you added very quietly and dropped your gaze. But Daemon lifted your chin at once making sure that he had your full attention when he looked at you determinedly.

"Don't you apologize to me. You had a panic attack and as your husband of course I want to make sure that you feel better. Not just because I'm your husband but because I love you. Because you're important to me."

He kissed your forehead.

"None of this is your fault and I don't want to ever hear you apologize for it again, alright?"

You nodded and crouched against his chest. "Yes."

"Good."

And then he smiled and the world suddenly felt very warm and manageable to you.

[debonairprincesposts]

Stroke Inducing Grammar

Summary: Where reader loses their mind over bad grammar and Jason does his best to take their mind off it. (Seriously it’s a nightmare)

Words: 1.5k

Jason lounged on the couch, the soft glow of a lamp casting a warm light over the living room. He held a book in one hand, but his gaze was drawn to you, nestled against him. You were scrolling through your phone, your brow furrowed and lips pursed in a way that made you look like you were about to burst.

‘What’s going on in that pretty head of theirs?’ he thought, internally chuckling at your intense expression. He could almost see the gears turning and the frustration radiating off you like heat from a fire.

“Hey, sweets. You doin’ okay?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, laced with genuine concern. He shifted slightly to face you, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was causing you such distress.

You glanced up, your eyes wide with exasperation. “The grammar of this damn article is so bad that it’s physically painful for me to even read another word!” you exclaimed, your voice a mix of annoyance and disbelief. “The terrible writing doesn’t make any sense, and it’s making me physically cringe!”

Jason couldn’t help but chuckle at your passionate reaction. It was one of the many things he adored about you—your ability to get so deeply invested, even in the little things. ‘Adorable,’ he thought.

Without missing a beat, he gently took the phone from your hands, setting it aside on the coffee table. “How about we take a break, hm?” he suggested, his voice softening as he pulled you closer to his chest. He felt the tension in your body, and he wanted nothing more than to ease it.

As he wrapped his arms around you, he began to massage the back of your neck, right under your skull. He could feel the knots in your muscles, and he focused on working them out, hoping it would help you relax a little. “Just close your eyes and focus on me,” he said, his voice a calming whisper.

You obliged, your eyelids fluttering shut as you leaned into him. Jason took a moment to appreciate how close you were, the warmth of your body against his. It felt right. He could feel the weight of the world lift slightly as he held you, and he wanted to share that feeling with you.

“Okay, so let me tell you about this one time my teammates and I got into some serious trouble,” he began, his tone light and playful. “We were all out on a mission, right? And B’s detective instincts kicked in. He decided to investigate a lead at a karaoke bar—of all places.”

You opened one eye slightly, the corners of your mouth twitching as you fought back a smile.

“Yeah, I know. What were we thinking?” Jason continued, grinning now. “We thought we’d blend in, but it turns out I can’t carry a tune to save my life. I ended up butchering ‘I Will Survive’ so badly that I think I left half the crowd in tears. But not the good kind! I think I actually lost my street cred that night.”

At that, you let out a soft laugh, the tension in your body slowly melting away. Jason felt a rush of warmth in his chest, knowing he was bringing you some joy amid your earlier frustration.

“And then there was the time we tried to do a stealth operation in a library,” he continued, his voice animated. “I swear, the librarian had ears like a bat. She caught us sneaking in and kicked us out faster than you can say ‘shhh!’” His smile widened at the sound of your giggles.

Jason leaned back, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he prepared to share another story. "Alright, babe, here's one that'll really get you laughing. It's about the time we had to infiltrate a high-society gala," he began, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"So, we're all decked out in tuxedos, right? Me, Dick, and Tim. We figured we'd blend in with the crowd and gather intel on some shady dealings happening in the upper crust of Gotham. But it turns out, none of us really know how to act at a fancy event."

You shifted closer, intrigued, your earlier frustrations forgotten.

"First off, Dick tries to impress everyone by ordering the most expensive champagne on the menu. You know how he is with his charm. So, he's chatting up this socialite while Tim and I are standing awkwardly in the corner, trying to look sophisticated. But then, Dick leans back, trying to look all suave, and—bam!—he spills the champagne all over the lady's designer dress!"

You burst into laughter, picturing the scene. "No way!"

"Totally," Jason continued, chuckling at the memory. "The look on her face was priceless. She was ready to toss him out on his ass, but instead, he just starts apologizing profusely, making it worse. Classic Dick, right? Always smooth until he isn't."

He paused for effect, enjoying your reaction. "But wait, it gets better. So, while Dick's trying to salvage his dignity, Tim decides it's a great time to show off his 'master of disguise' skills. He found this ridiculous fake mustache and thought he could fool everyone by pretending to be a waiter. He even practiced his 'may I take your order' line."

"No!" you exclaimed, covering your mouth in disbelief.

"Oh yes," Jason laughed, shaking his head. "He walks up to this group of ladies, mustache all crooked, and asks if they need anything. But instead of playing it cool, he trips over his own feet and spills a tray of hors d'oeuvres everywhere! It was like a scene out of a comedy movie. Food flying, ladies shrieking—it was chaos!"

You were practically in stitches now, leaning against him as you laughed.

"And the best part?" Jason added, wiping a tear from his eye. "The host of the gala was a known crime boss. So, when the food went flying, he stood up, furious, and threw Tim out of the event. We barely escaped!"

You looked up at him, still giggling. "You guys are a total mess!"

"Hey, what can I say?" Jason shrugged playfully. "We might be heroes, but we can't do everything right. Sometimes, you just have to laugh at yourself—and try not to spill any champagne next time!"

You chuckled again, this time more freely, your laughter a sweet sound that made Jason’s heart swell. “Are you an angel?” you teased, your voice light and playful.

He smirked, brushing his fingers through your hair. “Nah, just a guy trying to keep his love from losing their mind over bad grammar.”

As he spoke, he could feel you relaxing against him, the tension fading like mist in the morning sun. He loved these moments—the little pieces of life where he could be there for you, bringing comfort and laughter.

“Just remember,” he said softly, “sometimes you’ve gotta let the bad writing go. Focus on the good stuff, like this,” he added, gesturing between the two of you. “This is what matters.”

You sighed contentedly, your body sinking into his embrace. Jason felt a sense of fulfillment wash over him. He would do anything to see you smile, to ease your worries, even if it meant sharing embarrassing stories about his own life.

In that quiet moment, as you nestled closer against him, he knew he’d always be your anchor, ready to pull you back from the edge whenever you needed it.

Fluff. Yummy nummy.

Om nom nom

ଘ(´｡•᎑•`)っ 💕

[llorentezete]

You're safe with me – Old man Logan Howlett

warnings: midnight conversation, Logan in love, younger reader. reader named "Stella". nicknames: baby, princess, doll, reader described as female, curly hair. relationship established. ocf.

PS: English is not my first language [:(] and this is the first time I've written with Logan.

Stella was wearing a shimmery white nightgown. She was lying on the couch, her head propped up on her elbow while Logan sat with her feet and ankles in his lap. His hands were tracing patterns on her soft, smooth feet. Stella were watching something on TV, but Logan couldn't really take his eyes off her. He loved the curls that fell over her face, her golden eyes, her nose, her eyebrows drawn together in your captivated expression on TV. He loved her so much, even though he felt unworthy of your past, a pile of mess, he was selfish enough to let her go.

Stella's eyes caught Logan staring at her. The old man smiled with a small smile tugging at his lips. Stella ran over, whenever she caught him looking, she blushed. She was his innocent little princess in the end.

"Blushing princess?" Logan still had that smile on his face.

"Y-you're staring at me, Lo" Stella darted her eyes back to the TV.

"I know, doll, but I can't take my eyes off you, you know that." He settled back on the couch. "Come here." Logan patted his lap.

Stella practically crawled onto the couch and onto Logan's lap, where she felt his large hands grip her waist and accommodate her better and more comfortably. She loved the feeling of having someone Logan's size pampering her. Her little hands running down his neck until their breasts were pressed together.

"You're so beautiful princess." Logan runs his fingers over Stella's face. His touch is surprisingly light and careful, after all, she was his and he intended to take good care of her. "You know you're safe with me, don't you?" He lifts her chin.

"Yes, Lo." She nods, her fingers gripping the collar of his dress shirt.

"Good girl." He buries his face in Stella's neck, smelling her like a predatory animal. He kisses her neck, so tenderly that he is startled by the act. "Mmm... smells so good princess" He tries to commit her scent to memory, as if he'll see her again.

"Lo...." Stella murmurs, she senses a hint of melancholy in his tone. They've had this conversation before, about Logan not having much time left.

"Shhh it's okay princess, I'm here..." Logan holds her in his arms. Stella can feel his adamant bones, even weak, pressing her into his lap. "There's nothing to fear." He buries his face in her silky hair. Whispered promises that everything would be okay, that she would be okay.

Stella knew it was true, she knew Logan well enough to know he would protect her with his life if necessary. Stella was his anchor, the good part he tried to keep alive.

"People will talk," Stella whispers, her voice sweet with a mixture of fear.

"Fuck them, let them talk" Logan holds her chin, making her look at him. His voice still gentle but like a growl. "I don't care, doll"

"Promise?" Stella bites her lip, her eyes shining in the dim light of the room.

"I promise you, princess, let them talk about us." Logan leaves his face inches from hers. "nothing will hurt you baby" Logan could see Stella's eyes through the dim light of the night. Her eyes were filled with desire and love. It made him feel vulnerable, but he would never admit it. "Fuck...I love you so much."

He didn't let Stella answer, Logan took her lips in a fierce and passionate kiss. That was how he felt, that was how he showed his love. With strong kisses, words of affirmation and silly hands that he knew where it would lead.

[swift-creates]

category: Gen

fandom: DC Comics (Young Justice, Batfamily)

characters and relationships: Tim Drake, clone baby, Kon haunts the narrative (Timkon isn’t explicit but. it’s a clone baby au)

warnings: almost drowning, infant whump

Summary:

@ailesswhumptober Day 29: Ownership, branding, “Everybody will know that you’re mine.”

Tim tries to clone Kon, but this time it works.

notes: I can write so many Timkon fics with this prompt list :fireElmo: Inspired by this post by @hyperblue which has haunted me from the moment I saw it please come bother me with interest about this AU or any of mine plsplspls on my knees in tears pls

—

Tim woke to the loud beeping of one of the many machines in his lab. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, frowning at his reflection in the powerless computer screen; there were sleep marks on his cheek from the sleeve of his sweater, but aside from that he barely looked like he’d rested at all. The circles under his eyes hadn’t budged, and he sighed and scrubbed his hands across his face. It wasn’t like anyone was going to see them, anyway. He rarely left his lab except to grab more snacks from Titans Tower when he ran out, his work far too important to abandon. 

Tim got up and trudged past the empty cloning chambers to look for whatever had gone wrong, picking at the plaster on his arm where he’d drawn his own blood. His tablet lay on a table across the room, and he needed to recheck the Kryptonian environment values he’d copied off the Batcomputer-

One of the chambers wasn’t empty. 

He stared at it for a second, seeing but not quite understanding. Attempt one hundred and twenty-nine successful, the green letters said cheerfully. He stepped closer slowly, as if it was an animal that would lunge and try to bite him, and gingerly placed a hand against the glass. It was near but not exactly room temperature — 99.2 degrees Fahrenheit, 37.3 degrees Celcius, to be precise, ever so slightly warmer than a regular human temperature. 

“It worked,” he said to the empty lab. The machines keeping 129 alive seemed to sigh in response, then the beeping got louder, and the infant stirred in its glowing pod. No, not just stirred. It flinched. 

Error, the screen read now in bright failure red. The small letters underneath would have told him the reason, but he didn’t read it because 129 was struggling, tiny lungs seeking desperately for air and only receiving fluid. Tim’s heart screamed, and then he realised he was screaming. 

He can’t lose him. Not again and not like this. 

One heartbeat, and he was rushing forward, smashing the glass with his bo staff and pulling the infant out of the pod. 129 coughed up liquid and was still for a terrifyingly long moment, and Tim’s heart froze in his chest. 

Then the baby took a shaky breath and let out a gloriously loud cry. Now he was wet and wailing, but he was breathing. At least he was breathing. Tim went to rub a hand across his face in relief and halted when he realised it was covered in thick fluid. “It’s okay,” he said, and realised his throat was choked with tears. 129 cried louder and kicked his little legs as Tim became painfully aware how austere and clinical his lab was, absolutely no place for a helpless infant. There was no milk ready for him, no swaddling cloths to wrap him up in. And it was so, so cold. He must be so cold. Get it together, Drake. 

There was a shirt hanging on the back of his chair, and Tim reached for it, wrapping 129 in the black fabric and holding him close. “Shhh. It’s okay. Shh, shh.” The baby’s cries lowered slightly in volume, but didn’t stop. Tim bounced him gently, folding the shirt over him to keep him warm better- 

The edge of a familiar red insignia peeked out from underneath the folds of the shirt, and Tim froze. Kon’s shirt had artificial amniotic fluid and a crying baby in it. Kon’s shirt was wet and soiled and ruined and gone and Tim can’t even protect this one last part of him can he-

Then he was sliding down the wall to the floor and realised he was the one crying now. “I’m sorry,” he gasped, to Kon and to 129 and to no one at all. “I’m s- I’m so sorry.” 129 made a soft sound in his arms, but that just made him cry harder. Tim couldn’t take care of a baby. He’d failed Kon and failed Bart and failed Bruce and it’d been barely a day and he was already failing 129. 

As if that wasn’t enough, he had the stark realisation that the child in his arms resembled old baby pictures of Tim himself a little too closely, the tiniest package of Kryptonian blue eyes in a round little face. “Everyone will know you’re mine.” This wasn’t supposed to happen. His DNA was supposed to stabilise Kon’s, not influence it. He’d given 129 the curse of being related to him, in addition to being the ghost of a dead man. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He curled in around the infant and wept, surrounded by broken glass and a broken heart. 

[a-tortured-poets-quill]

It’s me again! 🤲🤍 I’m sure you already know who I’m requesting for, lol.

May I have Laughing Jack x a reader who’s been having nightmares? Specifically, ones about losing the people they care about? So, he tries to cheer them up with lots of affection! 🖤

Thank you once again! :o3

Decided to combine these two requests, I hope that’s okay! I hope you both are okay, and if you need anything you can always message me!

Content: angst; comfort; mentions of past trauma; nightmares.

He’d never get used to your scream - the one that woke him up most nights. He never begrudged you for it, never got mad, never got upset with you. He was only ever worried for you, wanting to comfort you any way he could.

On this most recent night, your scream was accompanied by limbs thrashing next to him in bed. He’d woken up instantly, on high alert and ready to defend you from your own nightmares in a heartbeat.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay… Shhh,” he cooed, gently trying to still your frantic body. Reacting any less calmly would only serve to add to your panic. “It’s me, it’s Jack. You’re okay, I’m here,” he repeated over and over as you stirred awake.

Desperate, quick breaths left your chest when your eyes finally pried themselves open. You wheezed and sat upright, met with Jack’s deeply concerned face.

“J-Jack?” you asked, gripping his arm for stability as you steadied yourself.

“I’m here, it’s me,” he comforted, cradling your cheek with a large claw, searching your eyes for answers to unspoken questions. “Was it the same?”

You nodded, tears silently beginning to fall. “I was so scared. I wasn’t able to find you and -” you took a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself. “I was scared that I lost you.”

Jack’s heart tightened at how hurt you sounded. All he ever wanted was for you to be happy and safe, but the past had a mean way of jumping back out from whatever dark corners of your mind it had been banished to.

“It’s okay, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” he allayed you. “Take some breaths for me, okay? Like this.” He demonstrates long, drawn out breaths, tapping a count of four into your arm with his claw to count your inhale, and a count of eight on the exhale - a technique he’d learned to calm the panic in moments like these.

You copied him, the tension slowly draining from your body and your breathing returning to a healthy, regular rhythm.

“Good job, honey,” he praised, giving you a gentle, comforting squeeze.

“Thank you,” you breathed.

“Whatever you need, whenever you need it,” he assured, the same thing he recited to you every night this happened. It never lost its meaning, you could see it in his eyes.

“Just you, Jack. I just need you,” you smiled weakly, lying back against the pillows with him. Soft kisses to your temple lulled you back into a deeper sleep. One that even your trauma couldn’t reach.

Divider Link

[ravennaortiz]

One day

Summary: Sequel to Be Okay- A Chibs Story

As always 18+

Chibs sat in the chapel of the hospital. He had been on his knees, hands clasped crying and begging for hours for you too be okay. For the doctors and nurses to put you back together. For you to open those beautiful eyes. For you to say anything at all. To see your smile, hear your laugh, feel you warm breath on his ear as you whispered to him. Once again he found himself traveling down the reason he was here and you were in surgery. “My fault” he said out loud his words echoing off the walls.

 The ambulance ride had been tense and painful. His mind reeling of the what ifs. They were struggling to get an iv when your heart stopped. The drawn out beep and the blank screen had been gut wrenching. He could only sit back and watch as the paramedics fought to bring you back. The crack of ribs, demands to push this and that made him sick to his stomach. He couldn’t look away though. His eyes were locked on your lifeless ones. He prayed to a god he wasn’t sure he still believed in. He prayed for you to be okay. He pleaded for him to fix this, this you. Give you a chance like you had given him a chance. “My fault” mumbled Chibs right as the monitor beeped again and showed a slight pulse. With a shaky breath he exhaled as he closed his eyes, thank you.

“I need to go with her” Chibs had bellowed as he swung at one of the male nurses. Thankfully for him and the nurse Tig and Juice grabbed onto him and pulled him back to the doors of the er. “Chibs, shhh, its okay” murmured Tig as he held Chibs to him. “No no no” grunted Chibs as he struggled to get out of both man’s grip. “You gotta let them work on her. They have to take her somewhere you can’t go. “soothed Tig. “I need her to be okay Tig” murmured Chibs as he slowly dropped to his knees. “We know” stated Juice as he patted Chibs shoulder. “All my fault boys” Chibs murmured as tears poured down his scarred face.

“Chibs” called Tara as she stepped into the chapel carefully. Frowning as she caught the older mans words. She knew there would be no use in correcting him though. Chibs bolted up his eyes red and swollen. He looked frantic. “Is she” he started to ask as Tara smiled softly and nodded. “She’s going to be okay. She is coming off anesthesia and should be awake in hopefully a few hours.” Replied Tara as Chibs moved and pulled her in for a hug. “Thank you. I don’t know how I can ever repay you” sniffled Chibs.

Once you were able to have visitors he was by your side. Holding your hand, fixing you hair, placing gentle kisses over the bruises on your face. He would have climbed in the bed but Tara said you were to fragile. He talked to you, sang to you. Listed all the reasons he loved you. Waiting on you to open your eyes so he could bask in your love that shown through. The club came and went around him. Dropping off fresh coffee, gifts and food.

You were well loved by the club. Each member have a unique relationship with you. You were more than just Chibs Old Lady. You were warm and friendly, always taking care of them. Looking out when you could. Sweet as pie is how Happy described you. Calm in the eye of any storm. Wouldn’t hurt a fly. All this to say is why Tig and Juice were so slow to respond to the angry screams and sound of things crashing from your hospital room. Surely you wouldn’t be yelling and cussing right?

“Lassie stop… It’s me” begged Chibs as he dodged flying medical equipment as you screamed at him to get out. Your eyes full of a fury and hatred he had never seen before.

“What’s going on?” demanded Tara as she pushed the men out of her way.

“I don’t want them in here” you had spat as tears poured down your face. Tara simply nodded as she started to usher the three men out.

“Wait. Love please” pleaded Chibs as he managed to get to your bedside. Your next words nearly killed him.

***

Your words echoed through Chibs mind as he rode back home from the hospital. He wanted nothing more to stay but you had sent him away. He had left like a beat dog with his tail tucked as Tig and Juice tried to plead his case.

"Why did it take you so long?"

He couldn’t blame you. It was a valid question. One he didn’t have an answer for. One day you would forgive him though he prayed.

Three Months Later

"Look at you Lass" murmured Chibs as he sat watching you take your first steps since your attack. You gave him a small smile as tears snaked down your cheeks and your body shook with the effort.

You thought that week being beaten had been hell but nothing had come close to touching the torture that was relearning how to do things that came easily. You were thankful for Chibs sticking by you no matter how mean you were, how many things you threw at him. Him and his love were always by your side. Telling you one day you would be okay.

"Guess one day was today" you stated as he kissed your forehead once you had reached him.

[avonne-writes]

Night Shadows

Again, I don't know what's up with me, I was suddenly inspired... This is in the same verse as this drabble - Gale has severe PTSD after the war.

The thin summer blanket falls over Bucky's frame like a veil, in soft folds. He lies still in his and Gale's bed and imagines he’s one of those timeless marble sculptures that look like people frozen in motion, with their clothes still ruffled by the breeze. A part of him longs for that oblivion, but a prickling awareness pulls him further away from sleep. The space on his left, where warmth and peace should press up against him, is as cold as the stone in Bucky's fading dream.

He cracks his eyes open to the shroud of the night and traces the silhouettes drawn by the pale moonlight that slips in through the curtains. Nothing lives and breathes around him, nothing moves. It’s only empty space.

Half-asleep, fear is a shock, a bucket of cold water after a bad evening spent drinking. He wrestles his marble bindings off and slips out of bed. His bare feet pad on thick carpet, then cool floor. His elbow brushes a doorframe a touch too hard, and the scrape of it draws a hiss, but nothing whispers back in the dead silence.

"Buck?" He calls out in that low, groggy voice that always gets him a fond smile in the morning. "You okay?"

There's no reply, but the living room gapes danger with its dark and empty space, and Bucky's heart kicks up its frantic beats. He looks around, squints, reaches for the lightswitch, but then he spots it - a pair of feet behind the couch.

He runs before the flood of dread could even materialize as a thought - he doesn’t think that Gale could be hurt or dead, he feels it. In his rush, he knocks into the coffee table that Gale apparently moved into the way, but he ignores the blooming pain and throws himself right down on the floor to grab the body lying lifeless in cold, wet liquid.

"Gale!" He exclaims. His fear drums so loud in his ears that he barely hears the gasp of surprise he draws, but the scrambling hands he does feel, as they scratch and grip at his shoulders in blind, animal panic.

"It's me. It’s me." He shifts his hold from Gale’s arms to his wrists and holds them away from the wounded skin of his neck until Gale calms and goes limp.

"Jesus Christ." Bucky breathes out in tired relief and pulls those hands to his chest, keeps them pressed there with his left while he cups Gale’s cheek with his right. "You scared me."

When Gale doesn’t reply, Bucky's heart clenches in a different kind of worry - the gentle, bittersweet kind that creeps around your heart like an embrace. It’s the worry of familiarity, the pain that comes from knowing what's coming and yet being powerless to do anything but watch how much damage the crash of a wave does against the shore.

"Don’t do this to me, doll. Not again." The plea slips out of his mouth quietly. It feels like defeat.

Gale doesn’t hear it.

"They’re out there." He whispers. His voice never sounded like this during the war, not even when they were on that train of death or when they plotted their escape - this voice knows neither reason, nor reality. "They’re coming."

Bucky shifts his grip on Gale’s hands, holding them both between his chest and his palm, and slides the other hand down Gale’s body to feel around for injuries. Wetness seeps into his pajamas from the puddle he’s kneeling in. It's dripping from Gale’s body, but it's not blood. Thank God, thank every saint for that. It’s ice cold water, and Gale is sopping wet with it.

"No one's coming." Bucky tries to soothe Gale. He wishes he spared that fraction of a second he would have needed to turn on the lights, because in the darkness, he can’t see Gale’s expression, just the white flash of his gaze sometimes as he stares at Bucky in wide-eyed horror.

"Shhh." Gale shushes him. "Lie down or they'll notice you." Gale's breathing speeds up to an unnatural, panicked rhythm, then goes slow so suddenly that it gives Bucky whiplash.

"Must join them to make it. Must join them." He mutters under his breath. It doesn't sound like he knows he’s speaking.

Bucky knows what he's doing. He put it together from the fragments Gale gave him during his episodes - he's on the run from the march, lying in a ditch among the dead to avoid being noticed by the German troops passing through the forest. In his right mind, Gale barely told him anything but the plain facts of what happened. Filth and rotting corpses only a few feet away from the retreating men. I made it out, it doesn't matter, John, he said that one time Bucky brought it up. But if something wakes him up wrong at night, it’s either this moment he loses his sanity to, or the darkest days of their captivity.

Usually, Bucky tries to wake him from it. He has tried it gently and rougher too, but it's always a tough wall to break, and he’s tired. Too tired to be the voice of reality. What if it helps more to play along?

He keeps stroking Gale's face and neck but lies down next to him just like Gale urges him to in half-finished sentences. The cold water drenches him in discomfort, but he pays it no notice, only Gale's laboured breathing.

"Quick, quick." Gale says, voice shaking now, and he pulls his hands out of Bucky's grip to strip his wet shirt. He lays it on Bucky’s stomach, then goes still. "It rained, if you're dry, they’ll see it."

That explains it, Bucky thinks as they lie together on the floor. Safe in their home, but hiding from the demons in Gale's mind. Bucky wonders if Gale went to the bathroom to splash water on his face but ended up here instead. He wonders if he didn’t switch on the light because he didn’t want to wake Bucky and if that's what got him confused. It happened before. And yet, Gale continues to try being considerate.

It breaks Bucky's heart.

He waits a few seconds, counts to ten in his head, then opens his mouth to whisper, "I think they’re gone now."

With his hand gripping Bucky's, Gale stops breathing for a moment, as if listening for the sound of footsteps, but, of course, there's nothing. When Gale believes it too, his body relaxes, and he sits up. He pulls his knees up, puts his elbows on them, then buries his face in his hands.

Bucky discards the wet shirt and moves behind Gale to hug him. He wraps his arms around Gale’s shivering torso and closes his eyes against the memories it brings up, the cold and the stalag. He pulls Gale back into his chest. A long kiss to Gale’s bare shoulder, then a soothing path of them up, better than any feeble word he’d try to say. Words he did say in the past, grains of sand in the wind.

It's only when Gale goes boneless and tries to crumple forward that he knows it's over, and what he says would be heard.

"It's okay. You're okay." He kisses Gale's temple, willing them both to believe it. The seconds tick by like a quiet metronome. They fly past, into the horizon of minutes, but the night feels so vast that it's as if they're floating in nothing.

"This floor needed mopping anyway." Bucky says in a lighter tone once he thinks that Gale’s ready for it.

Gale bursts into tears.

As always, it’s devastating. Bucky had been through pain and loss and hell with him, and Gale never once shed a tear. But since they returned, like taking a tourniquet off a wounded vein, the missing pressure to stay strong left him torn open and bleeding. Nothing hurts more than not being able to make it better. Just hoping for time to heal what Bucky can’t.

"I'm sorry." Gale's voice is like a ghost passing through the house. It stabs Bucky all the same.

"Don’t worry about it, Buck. You know me. Not the first time I sat in a puddle, hoping to get someone into bed with me." He tightens his arms as he says it, rocking Gale, but he feels the tremors of silent crying continue to run through Gale's body. "I love you."

A sob escapes Gale before he could clamp down on it. He forces himself to go still when it passes, then drops his hands and sniffles. "Does that line tend to work?"

The smile on Bucky’s lips is bittersweet. "Dunno, doll, you tell me. Never used it before."

Gale breathes in deep, then lets it out. Little by little, his body starts to settle down again. The shaking ceases. "I may need to hear it again." He swallows against his remaining tears, then leans his head against Bucky's. "To make sure."

Bucky hums. "Let me try my luck in a hot bath. For the acoustics."

That finally earns him a small, wet laugh. "Sure, Bucky."

Germany's frozen forests are never farther away than in the steamy warmth of their bathroom, in each other's embrace.

[nanamisonholiday]

Come to check on you Pretty girl

Kento Nanami x Fem!Reader

TW: Smutish- no p in v ,daddykink, fingering

other dbf!nanami fic

Summary: Nanamis asked by dad!Geto to check on you ;)

“Nanami, would you mind seeing how my girl is doing?”

A nod of his head and he’s two stepping the stairs with a faint answer for Suguru-

“Sure”

He hates how eager he is, internally cringing on how he hadn’t played that off very well, but it's all thrown out the window as he approaches your door. The small journey feeling like a milennia when he swears he hears the faintest whimper come through the wooden door seperating him from you. He’s half ashamed how quick his body is to respond to the sound. Pants tightening at the image of you possibly knuckles deep-

No

You could be in danger, horribly unwell- or worse.

No

He’s being irrational- he’s an adult, he has a lifetime more experience to know what kind of sound that was. He’d be a dirty liar to say he wasn’t the tad bit excited as he creeps your door open to infact reveal you ass up with your back to the door, his eyes drawn to your lower hald as you piston your little fingers in and out of your pussy. Nanami’s breath is stolen from him

“Fuuckk- fuck fuck”

Fuck indeed

Your whimpers only grow louder, more desperate than ever to catch the much needed release your chasing. He wants to help you out so badly. The decency in him freezing him in place as he watches you unravel on your bed.

“Nngh- ahh, fuuck. Daddyyy~”

Shit

Humping the door almost seems enticing if it weren’t for the fact he’s not the only man in the house. Friends, and family downstairs right under the pair of you. He won’t risk that kind of behaviour, he’s a good man- a gentleman. You adore him and he adores you, but theres a line he can’t cross. He can’t. Everything feels blurry, his head hurts from holding back- so he opts for the next best thing.

Opening the door to let the slither of sunlight grow. Highlighting your bent and arched body- your so caught up in your bliss you haven’t even noticed the added light exposing you to the hungry man. Nanami swears he could cum at the sight, your pussy soaked as your juices drips down your fingers. A hand landing on the small of your back startles you- breath hitching when you see a familiar pair of slacks come into view.

A shiver runs down your spine- or through you, your not sure at this point, as your fingers dumbly continue rubbing your clit. The familiar deep voice making you whine out- rutting against your own hand.

“Be quiet”

Nodding you mindlessly open your legs wider- letting him remove your hand away, and whimpering as Nanami replaces the emptiness with his whole hand to cup you, long thick fingers exploring your soaked cunt. Your soft plush body reacting deliciously as he strokes your sensitive bud with his thumb. It feels like a dream

“Kenny~”

“Shhh pretty. Don’t want y’dad to hear you huh?”

You shake your head shyly- lost in all pleasure as the man plunges his fingers deep into your gummy walls. Cupping your own hands over your mouth you fight yourself to stop making noises. Because this would be deeply embarrassing- getting caught by your father as his dearest friend is knuckles deep in your pussy

The idea has your walls clenching, his eyes shutting, both your breathing going rapid as the pace quickens

“Nngh- Ken- fuck”

Fuck

“Kenny”

It’s like an angelic mantra, your voice repeating the sweet name you’ve always called him, Over, and over, and over again. His eyes fluttering under his eyelids as he feels you on his fingers

Kenny

Kenny

Kenny

Tap

“Kenny?”

Tap

Tap

Huh?

His eyes open and he’s standing at the doorway- eyes hazy as he orientates himself. You’re standing at the door a shy, but concerned look on your face as you go to grab his wrist.

“You okay Kenny?”

He never moved

He never went in

He never felt you

It really was a dream

He should be thankful he supposes. That he hadn't lost his cool and overstepped a line he couldn't return from. But he'd be lying to say if he wasn't even a bit disappointed.

The tug on his wrist and the worry crease of your prettily shaped brows bring him back to reality. His hand instinctively moving, to cup your cheek. Both hearts swelling at the contact- especially his when you happily lean your face further into his touch

“You’re scaring me a bit Kenny”

He smiles at you- you are such a sweetheart

“Came to check on you pretty girl”

All the blood rushes through your body as your shift your thighs together. The slick inbetween reminding you of why you’re alot more worried than usual at his sudden appearance at your door

“Oh, i’m okay Kenny”

He wants to smirk, embarrass you a little. But the ache between his own legs is growing with tenfold with the knowledge that you had been whining into your pillow as you finger fucked yourself. He feels lost again- dissappointment growing with every minute that he gets to stare at your post-orgasm haze, so much more dissappointed than he would like to be, at the fact his little daydream, had been infact a dream.

So he leans down, kisses your head as his hand wraps around the back of your neck bringing you close to his chest. Practically engulding you with his arm

“Good girl then, you coming down for dinner?”

You kiss his cheek, nodding as you bask in his attention. He had always been your favourite out of your fathers friends

“Mhm, tell daddy I’ll be down in 10”

And with that, you retreat back in- poorly closing the door as it’s left ajar in Nanamis face. His eyes raking over your body as you strip down and change.

He runs a hand down his stressed face, mumbling into the palm to himself

“Fuckin’hell”

Thanks for reading

feel free to msg/ask/whatever- or don't <3

[dd122004dd]

Without you, There is no me

After the battle with Imhotep the Medjai return home to their beloveds. Even Ardeth has someone waiting for him.

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: Hello! This was a requested fic. Unfortunately my tumblr acted up and ate up the request and I can’t exactly recall who sent it, so if you’re the person who told me they loved the way I wrote Ardeth Bay and that they wanted a fluffy romantic fic with a fem reader, please do dm me and I’ll tag you in this fic. Also, thank you for your lovely request, I tried to encapsulate the feelings I felt while reading your request and apologies in advance if this is a little shorter than usual.

The sun slowly melted into the golden dunes of the desert as the sky was bathed in a heady mix of crimson, tangerine and mahogany. The hot desert air slowly cooling as the glowing rays faded, descending further into the horizon. Darkness descended over the camp as the stars arose, twinkling gently alongside the moon.

The plagues upon the land had disappeared, the Medjai officials in the government working swiftly to cover up its mystical origins, yet the only word the Medjai camp had received was that the warriors were coming home and that Imhotep had been imprisoned once more.

A woman paced within her tent, constantly glancing at the entrance before returning to pacing. Eventually she tired, laying against her soft mattress and watching the entrance with rapt eyes. Breathing slowly, she rubbed her hands against her swelling stomach, impatience thrumming through her veins. As the sky changed shades and the moon illuminated her doorway her breathing slowed and her body relaxed, her bodily aches momentarily forgotten as her mind escaped into the chasm of dreams where she dreamt of warm arms and ebony irises.

She was slowly drawn from her slumber by feathery kisses upon her cheeks. Groggily opening her eyes she saw the face of the man she adored. His lips drawn into a smile as he gazed at her.

“Hello sweet wife,” he whispered with a husky voice.

“Ardeth?” She whispered full of disbelief.

“I’m here,” he said, smiling at his wife.

Overjoyed at his presence she pulled him to her arms, her grip around him tightening and unwilling to let go.

“I thought you’d- I thought-“ she stuttered out, sniffling as her mind brought forward her worst fears.

Rubbing her back he soothed her, “Shhh, it’s okay. I’m back and no one, not even an ancient mummy or Anubis himself could keep me away from you.”

Pulling away from her, he gazed into her eyes, vowing, “You, my sweet wife, are my very life. The air within my lungs and the sand beneath my feet. Without you, there is no me and I will never let you or our little one go.” Saying this he bent towards her stomach before placing soft kisses along her skin, feeling the little flutters of their baby’s movement along his hand he whispered, “I’m here, little one. I won’t leave you.”

Slowly moving away he cradled his wife against his body as he told her the tales of his recent death-defying adventure and as the stars looked down at the lovely couple, the desert breathed peace.