#anxious and stressed and dreading every moment

[bioshocked-astroghost]

Before anyone reads this please remember this is just personal opinion please don’t yell at me for anything but if u disagree obv that’s fine!!!

Finally finally FINALLY watched OFMD s2 and I’ve just got to say what the actual FUCK just happened

Like I wanted some angst but somehow this felt like TOO sharp of a turn

Also maybe it’s because I binged it with my friend in one afternoon but did anyone else feel like even though it mostly made sense it felt disjointed and kinda rushed??? I felt like I couldn’t keep up with where everyone was at emotionally

Loved the new female characters but. They felt very lacking :/ I did really like Zheng but I’m very conflicted on her taking over the crew but You know. Whatever I guess

Also it was still funny but I felt like majority of the humor was missing :/

As for final thoughts. FUCK that ending my baby is NOT DEAD AND YOU CAN PRY IZZY FROM MY WRETCHED AND DAMNED DEAD HANDS (I got a little lucky in this regard, I saw a spoiler for his death a couple weeks ago so I could prepare myself) also fuck Ed and Steve becoming innkeepers sorry but no

Idk man the ending didn’t even feel bittersweet to me I just felt hollow in the end. I feel like I was robbed. I felt the same way about the ending that I did with GoT which I know sounds insane cuz it was so much bigger but it’s like. Everyone got split up. They finally found their way back to each other. The big climax comes and goes. Then for some fucking reason the party splits again and it feels like a final goodbye to each other and I fucking hate it

Anyway. Still grateful we got a season 2 but I’m pretty sure the fanfic These Waves Will Pull Me Under by @underthecouchh will always be the canon s2 in my head (fantastic fic btw. U should read it)

[lovelytsunoda]

don't go breaking my heart // lance stroll

soft moments stolen between wedding and reception

weddings are joyous and festive, but can be stressful for introverts like lance and his wife. so when they were able to steal some moments with each other in the peace of his aston martin between the ceremony and the venue, they know these are the moments they will treasure the most from that day.

pairing: lance stroll x newlywed reader

warnings: just fluff, a minor minor allusion to sex.

author's note: i have no idea why i have written so many wedding things for this man, but i think it's because he is the raw definition of husband material. thank you and good night lmao.

“don’t go breaking my heart…I couldn’t if I tried”

elton john and kiki dee crooned over the speakers as lances aston martin drove through the quebec countryside. it was a quiet night, stars high in the sky as he ran his thumb over his wife’s thigh.

“I love you.” he hummed, daring to look over at the love of his life as he took a corner too fast. “my darling darling wife.”

she smiled, meeting his gaze. “eyes on the road, handsome. you’ve got the rest of your life to stare at me. I love you too.”

the wedding had felt like a blur, maybe because of how wired they both felt. it should have been a smaller ceremony, in all hindsight considered.

it was an odd thing: you want to celebrate your love around all these people, but then the day arrives and suddenly you feel anxious at letting them see you pledge your heart to another.

lance and y/n had always been the quiet, soft couple. the one evoking ‘awe’s and heart eyes from the groups around them. they knew each other like the backs of their hands, better than any track map or textbook.

“enjoy the quiet while it lasts.” she hummed, nimble fingers gently easing the pins for her white lace veil out of her hair. “is it bad that I’m dreading my own reception?”

lance laughed. "nope. because i am, too. i know it's all about us and all that, but i hate being the center of attention. i would have rather had a dinner party."

she snorted. "technically this is really just a rather large dinner party."

"i mean, there's food and wine, you picked a damn good throwback playlist. dinner party." lance shrugged, taking his foot off the gas, headlights illuminating the empty road ahead.

lance had decided to take the scenic route, savoring this moment alone, this little bit of calm before the storm. before the party, the noise, the people.

just him and his wife, falling a little bit more in love with each other every day.

"if scotty throws his back out dancing to 'suicide blonde', i'm not fucking helping." y/n laughed, reaching for the stereo to flip to the offending inxs song. "i still cannot believe that this song was about kylie fucking minogue."

"there's a reason we invested in the mocktail bar."

"you know most of the guys have flasks hidden in their suit jackets, right?"

she would have preferred something low key, but her family had wanted the big party. it wasn't all bad. she got to pick the food (pasta bar, anybody?), the drinks, the decorations, the music. she'd made a throwback playlist of all her favorite happy songs, all the ones that made her feel alive, giddy and in love, ranging from inxs to def leppard to kesha.

she'd waited twenty-five years for this moment, so why was she suddenly getting this bad feeling about going to the party that followed?

the event venue slowly came into view over the distance, the white brick building with it's pillars and vintage charm, the walkway to the door lit up with fairy lights. the small parking lot was already almost full, the rest of the guests waiting inside for the happy couple. lance parked his car furthest from the door, but kept the engine running.

he took her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. "we can turn around and drive away." he was dead serious when he looked over at her. "i'm serious, we can run and go get burgers and milkshakes and see a movie and then go back to the hotel and not sleep a minute because we are too busy having the goofiest, most romantic sex of our lives. i just want you to be comfortable."

"i know. and that's why i love you so much, lance." she sighed, a smile blooming on her face. "but our friends are in there. our parents are in there. hell, your dad is probably trying to sell my dad on buying a time share villa in biarritz."

lance laughed, leaning over the center console to kiss her forehead. "whenever you want to leave, you just tell me. if you need a minute to yourself, just shoot me a text message and i'll come and find you. or don't, if you just want a walk in total solitude. i'll probably need one of those at some point, too."

"i knew there was a reason i married you." she joked, tilting her head up to press her lips to his. "i love you to the moon and back, lance."

"you wanna go inside?"

"we might as well."

lance took his seatbelt off, shutting off the car and sliding out of the driver's door. her dramatically slid across the hood, earning a laugh from his wife as he skipped towards her door, opening it for her before extending a hand for her to take.

"beautiful girl, love of my life, may i help you out of this shockingly low car?"

she laughed, slipping one of her hands into his warm one. "yes, my beautiful husband. yes, you may."

she stepped out of the car, the hem of her white silk dress dusting the gravel in the parking lot. a breeze ran through the area, making the hair on the backs of her arms stand up.

"love, you're shivering." lance said softly, slipping out of his suit jacket and draping it over her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she put her arms through the sleeves, wrapping her arms fully around her husband. "i love you."

"i love you, too." she took a minute to stand there, her nose in his dress shirt, breathing in his cologne. bath and body works, today. she liked that. something playful and romantic instead of the heavy, stinging designer scents he usually wore.

"we should go inside." he whispered, their bodies swaying together in the silence, her skin warm against his.

"or we could stay out here just a little longer."

and who was he to argue with that?

"you get five more minutes. i'm starting to get hungry and the pasta bar has my name written all over it."

TAGS:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @cartierre @diorleclerc @httpiastri @silverstonesainz @lorarri @twinkodium

[furiousgoldfish]

(tw mentions of physical abuse, essay about life after abuse)

Imagine a kid who is forced to work, in a room where they're being kicked while they work. It doesn't happen all the time, but often enough that they know to expect to be kicked while they work. If they refuse to work, abuse gets worse, so the least painful thing they can do is work and endure being kicked.

Eventually, the kid escapes. Now they're in a situation where they need to work to earn income to survive. They only know the one job they did while being kicked, so thats what they do. They find themselves in a room, and as they work, their stomach clenches. They're looking around anxiously, expecting to be kicked. It doesn't happen, but people are walking by, and some of them come too close, and it feels like a kick is about to happen. 

They flinch every time and are met with bewilderment, offense, sometimes ridicule for being paranoid. But they can't help it. Being kicked is all they know. Every time it doesn't happen, it feels like a cruel joke, a prank that is being played, a game. A setup to make them feel stupid for imagining they wont get kicked.

From the outside, it looks normal. Nobody is kicking them, nobody is doing any harm to them. Other people must wonder why are they flinching. Why are their reactions bizarre. It comes off weird. Self obsessed. They hold this view of themselves in their mind, because they had to view themselves from others point of view for self preservation. They know they're only viewed critically and try their best to offer a good preformance of normalcy. But it does nothing to change the fear or the pain they feel. They assume its irrational and illogical to feel this, since nobody else seems to be ecperiencing that.

They're no longer being kicked, but they're still in the environment where nobody cares what they're going trough. They do not receive any warmth, concern or understanding; they're unable to connect with anyone in their environment due to differences in life experience. They don't get a chance at bonding or having a community. They're in a sea of impassive strangers, all one their own.

They have no way of asserting their emotions because they're foreign and unrelatable to everyone else. The dissaproval, misunderstandings and judgments fall heavy on their heart, feel li.ke a punishment. They cannot even acknowledge that others around them get acceptance, community, connections and approval, because that concept is unexperienced and foreign to them. They cannot see they're at a disadvantage, and not standing on equal grounds. They feel shame for not managing their situation better, while being an outcast.

And in the end they wish they would just get kicked already. One reliable, predictable and constant thing in their life was replaced by endless anxious anticipation and foreign environment that brings new shame. Before, they could at least count on something, have a tangible proof of harm, know how to react, what to do. Usually after the pain would happen, there would be a few moment of relief because the worst was over and at least they could relax for a second. And their brain adapted to it, releasing relaxing chemicals only after pain, and never breaking tension otherwise.

Now there is no breaking of the tension, nobody is visibly causing pain, and they're stuck feeling anticipation and dread all of the time, coupled with a shame for so 'ičrrationally' feeling this. 

This is how it feels when abuse victims are expected to immediately function normally after escaping abuse. Being kicked is a metaphor - it could have been anything that chronically caused distress, pain and loss of control over their life.

It's unreasonable to expect someone from an extreme environment to be quickly okay. It's cruel to put them in a situation reminiscent of abuse in any way and expect them not to flinch. It's ignorant to shame them for wanting back the familiar pain, over the stressful new situation they're not equipped to handle. It's unfair to ignore their disadvantage and act like anyone could be okay without any warmth, connection, understanding or community just because they're not being kicked anymore. Most people would collapse without all that. 

It gets worse before it gets better after escaping abuse. It doesn't mean it was wrong to escape, or that victims can't learn to function. Victims are often going above and beyond to make it, and are rewarded for it by being forced to see themselves trough the eyes of society that judges them for being set up to fail.

It will get better. Your brain can and will adapt. You will gain experiences that will allow you to have things in commom with others. You won't have to feel inadequate or ashamed forever. Especially if you can be in a room with people who understand what was done to you, and will not put you in a situation where you have to wonder when a kick is coming.

[delimeful]

let my mind reset (6)

warnings: angst, brainwashing, torture, psychological conditioning, references to injury/gore/death, harmful surgical implants, they are really going through it now, lmk if i missed any

-

Where the hours had passed slowly before, now they seemed to slip by all too fast. Every spare moment Roman had was spent in anxious anticipation of the next session and all that came with it.

He had never seen something like the haze used on a person before. Crav’n were invulnerable to it, and he’d only ever witnessed his aunt use it briefly on one of the local fauna once, a harmless and finicky tree-dwelling species about the size of his hand.

(Roman remembered the way Marta had compelled the little creature to pace back and forth, from place to place, wearing its will away until there wasn’t any hesitation between order and action. Then, she’d sent it walking into the nearby pond.

He remembered the way its survival instinct had set in late, the way it began to thrash, and still Marta didn’t call it back. He remembered feeling relieved when his mother stepped in and put a stop to the demonstration, scooping the poor beast from its fate with disapproval etched firmly in the set of her shoulders.

He didn’t remember if the creature had lived through the withdrawal, afterwards.)

Virgil was far from a simple animal, though, and despite Roman’s half-formed nightmares, he didn’t mindlessly succumb to the influence of the drug the first time it was forced on him, nor the second or the third.

In fact, every time the other Humans entered his cell with that unsettling green canister, he seemed just as panicked as Roman, if not more, putting up as much of a fight as he could with a battered body and a wrung out mind. No matter how they tutted or scolded, the other Humans still couldn’t get the mask on him until Roux had him forcibly subdued, which was a tiny victory in itself.

That didn’t stop the drug from taking its toll each and every time.

As horrible as it sounded, the worst part was that the effects weren't painful or malicious in nature. At least that would have been easier to fight against; a logical, instinctive response to being hurt.

No, it was far more insidious than that. The haze dulled pain. First, the physical: it eased away the stiffness of sore muscles and the burning of shocked nerves, leaving only a pleasant numbness behind. Then, the mental: it stalled the production of stressful chemical compounds, replacing them with whatever was needed to trick the victim’s mind into believing they were happy, relaxed, pliable.

Roman had never seen Virgil so unwound, so carefree, and he hated how unnatural the behavior seemed on the Human. It was a miserable experience, finally seeing him without the hunted slant to his posture, and feeling sickened by the sight.

What was worse was watching it wear off.

As though a switch had been thrown in reverse, Virgil would be plagued by a creeping, unrelenting sense of panic and dread, pacing around his cell frantically until a sudden hypersensitivity to touch left him crumpled in one spot, breathing harsh and pained.

Time after time, he was shown exactly how painful withdrawal from even a few doses was, until he was left bracing for it well before the next session had even begun.

“The last guys who had me would have killed for something like this,” Virgil said, nearly panting as he laid out on his back. He had his fingers pressed against his neck, feeling his pulse. His heart was racing so hard that Roman could see the veins pulsing eerily under the skin. A heavy spike of adrenaline, unprompted by anything tangible. “Bet she has at least a few people stashed away just to drain for easy cash.”

He spoke more, like this. Out of turn, about topics that were morbid and pessimistic, as though the thoughts were tumbling free of his mind without his permission. Roman never let his negative reactions to the more grim topics go beyond his ears flickering back; it wasn’t like he had the room or right to judge. They didn’t have very many reasons to be optimistic. Besides, he’d realized early on that the more worked up Roman got, the worse Virgil got in turn.

He still didn’t know the exact details of how Dren harvesting worked, and he was fairly sure he was better off for it. The very idea of setting an entire person aside for something like that was reprehensible, and therefore entirely possible for Marta.

“She said she… she gets rid of Humans that don’t break,” he replied after a moment, the words tumbling freely from him for once. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to turn a profit from it.”

He’d been trying to match the distant, dry tone Virgil had used, but he must have missed the mark, because the Human stiffened, and drew his hand back from Roman’s grasp to press it harshly against his eyes.

Belatedly, Roman realized what he’d just implied. Virgil was one of those Humans trying not to break, was at this very moment barely clinging to his composure, and he’d just been informed he was stuck between two horrific fates worse than death. “I didn’t mean—,”

“‘S alright,” Virgil interrupted, voice rough with exhaustion. “It’s not like I didn’t know. It makes me feel a little better, honestly.”

Roman stared at him, bewildered and still slightly aghast at his own stupidity, and Virgil shifted a few fingers to peer back with one eye.

“At least some Humans didn’t fall for it, y’know? At least some of them got out in their own way,” he continued, a thin thread of hopelessness tangled up in the words. “I was starting to wonder if the rest of space was right. If we were all just destined to be monsters with the right motivation.”

Roman should have been more alarmed at the implication that Virgil felt close to succumbing, that he was nearer than he’d ever wanted to be to a Human on the brink of falling under someone else’s blatantly malignant control, but all he could feel was a painful sympathy.

“You’re not a monster,” he said, and then, more firmly— “Humans aren’t monsters.”

Virgil’s eye widened slightly, gaze intent in a way that would have made Roman bristle in the past.

“They’re just people. They can do good or bad, just like anyone else. And sure, these guys are— they’re not doing good.” A pause, and Roman forced himself to meet Virgil’s stare. “But you have. You saved Patton, and you tried to save me, and you’re— you’re not a monster. You’re a good friend.”

Virgil buried his face back in his elbow and was quiet for a long moment.

“…You’re not so bad yourself.”

—

Roman hadn’t expected Marta to show up in person, not with how much she had delegated to her brainwashed underlings thus far, but arrive she did.

“Don’t fret, ghiva’al,” she crooned to him, passing by his cell with the lightest clink of her claws dragged against the bars. “I’m here to meet your little pet, not you.”

“Don’t—,” call me that, call him that, he wanted to snarl, but his throat closed up so sharply that it sounded a little like he’d choked.

Marta made her stilted croaking laugh, sparing him a glance that might have been pitying if it had bothered to reach her cold, empty eyes. “You always did struggle with words when emotional, didn’t you? Not nearly as well spoken as your mother. What a shame to see that hasn’t changed.”

There was a sharp clacking as an aggressive shudder ran through Roman’s scales, but he still couldn’t find his voice. Not even when Marta moved on to grip the bars of Virgil’s cell, her attention shifting to the Human where he stood warily in the center of the cage.

Roman had learned more than he’d ever thought he would about Human body language over the past few weeks. He knew from the slight sway to Virgil’s every shift that the Human was drained, likely barely keeping his feet.

Still, he was upright to face Marta, his height advantage allowing him to look down at her, and that was better than being crumpled on the ground at her feet. Little victories were all they had now, and they clung to each and every one.

Roux wasn’t there, Roman realized with a jolt, and the knowledge was enough to drag his mind into overdrive, a sudden double-edged hope springing to life in his chest.

Virgil must have already realized, because the way he held himself shifted into something taut and coiled, like he was preparing to lunge forward at the first opportunity, weak or not.

“Back of the cell,” Marta commanded, voice turned brisk and blunt in a way it hadn’t been with Roman. Like she was speaking to a beast instead of a person.

Virgil didn’t move, barely deigned to acknowledge the words beyond a brief flicker of his pupils upwards.

Marta waited, letting the silence stretch for a brief moment, and then clicked her teeth together in a mild reprimand. “The hard way, then.”

Despite her apparent annoyance, the words held a sort of anticipatory delight, and Roman felt the thick tar of dread slide under his scales as he watched her slide a small, triangular remote from a pouch at her side.

When she pressed the button in the center of it, she was looking at Roman.

It was Virgil who went rigid and fell.

Despite knowing it would undercut every lie he’d tried to sell about how little he cared, despite the fact that he was playing right into her claws, Roman couldn’t help but rush to the bars separating them, a shout of horror catching in his chest.

The Human hit the ground hard but stayed chillingly frozen, with every muscle locked into hard lines. He didn’t make a sound until Marta shifted her thumb away from the button, the motion somehow allowing him to finally go limp like a puppet with strings cut.

“Virgil!” Roman managed, though the sound of it was nearly lost in the sudden loudness of the Human’s gasping breaths. He hadn’t been breathing before, Roman realized with a terrified shock.

Whatever Marta was doing, it hadn’t countered Virgil’s natural stubbornness, and he climbed back to his feet with less staggering than Roman would have expected.

His gaze caught on the tremor to Virgil’s hands, the shuddering of his pulse, and he understood. Adrenaline.

The fight or flight instinct, Virgil had called it while talking with Patton. Roman had seen him choose to fight once, at their very first meeting, but even that couldn’t compare to the speed and ferocity of the way the Human lunged now.

Marta didn’t flinch back when he made loud, skull-rattling contact with the bars, but she didn’t blink, either, keeping her eyes firmly locked on Virgil as she pressed the button once more.

Instead of letting him drop, however, she reached out and seized him by the face, claws digging in on either cheek and holding tightly.

Virgil couldn’t so much as flinch away from the pain, and Roman slammed his arm against the door of his own cell with force, furious at his own helplessness.

Marta released the trigger again, and this time, every gasping inhale Virgil took was dosed with her haze. He tried to jerk back, but it was far faster acting straight from the source, and he had barely a moment before his expression dropped to something hollow and smooth, his desperate strength wavering and then extinguishing like a flame with nothing left to burn.

“Down,” Marta commanded, releasing her grip, and Virgil stood in place for a few long heartbeats before his legs collapsed underneath him.

She waved a hand absently down at him, still scattering her haze thick in the air. “There you go. It feels so much better when you listen, doesn’t it?”

Virgil twitched, a ripple of discontent crossing his face, but didn’t respond. He was shaking relentlessly now, his entire body trembling in a way that had Roman deeply concerned.

“You’re safe with me,” Marta lied, reaching down to glide the palm of her hand over the side of Virgil’s face. “You’re only safe with me. Everyone else wants to hurt you, but I’ll make the pain go away. Always do as I say, okay?”

Virgil didn’t move away, even as her rough skin caught on the wounds her claws had left only moments ago. His breathing grew wispier, slower, until he appeared almost calm, his eyes dazed and distant.

“Let’s try this again,” Marta straightened, and when her hand left Virgil’s cheek, he strained after it for a handful of seconds. “Back of the cell.”

Virgil climbed back to his feet, and Roman closed his eyes as the Human quietly began shuffling across his stretch of cell. He felt all of six winters old again, watching his aunt lead something fuzzy and helpless back and forth, closer and closer to the water’s edge.

“Good. Now, heel.” More shuffling, wordless as a corpse.

How long did he have before Virgil took his own plunge?

—

It took longer than before for Virgil to regain coherence, afterwards.

Roman knew the moment he’d come back to himself, because the soft grip around his hand had instantly vanished, yanked away so sharply that he’d barely registered the movement before Virgil was up on his feet and backing away.

“Virgil,” he tried, and the Human shook his head, the motion harsh, his hands lifting up to grip roughly at his hair in a distressed motion Roman had only ever caught glimpses of back on the ship.

He’d continued to retreat until he hit the furthest corner of the cell, where he slid down and curled in on himself, utterly unreceptive to any of Roman’s stilted calls. Roman caught his expression crumpling into a miserable grimace before he buried his face in his knees and hid that away too.

The silence stretched.

If there were some right words to say here, Roman couldn’t find them. Even if he did, he undoubtedly wouldn’t be able to say them. The helplessness sheared against his scales like rough sand, but how could he allow himself to wallow in it when he at least still had his mind, his existence still unarguably his own?

Freshly taunted by the knowledge that he didn’t have even that much, Virgil remained still and taut and quiet in the furthest reaches of his cell for what felt like a very long time.

When he did finally stir, Roman was appalled to see the faint streaks on his face where his tears had washed away the sweat and grime.

Patton had described Human weeping as arrhythmic vocalizations, much like Ampens, but with a physical manifestation as well. Roman hadn’t known that Humans could cry silently, like a pup gone still and quiet in the face of danger, with only the barest hitching of breath to indicate distress.

The expression on Virgil now was creased into firm lines, but it didn’t seem agonized or crumbling at the edges. Rather, as he climbed to his face, he seemed to hold the same bitter resolution Roman had seen in him a few times before: during the tail end of their first meeting, and after the fight with the raiders, both times when he’d thought he was about to be left alone again.

“Roman,” he started, and then worked his jaw tersely, once, twice. Rather than continue, he held out a hand, palm-up in silent offering.

Things had changed a lot over the course of their captivity, Roman reflected as he reached out and set his own hand in the Human’s grasp with barely a shred of hesitation. It felt like second nature by now, to reach out and cling on whenever his stomach was roiling with stress.

Virgil watched him for a moment longer, and then wrapped his fingers around Roman’s hand and drew closer, slowly pulling his arm up until he had positioned Roman’s claws just above the skin of his neck.

“This,” Virgil said, each word resolute, “is the best place to sever if you want to kill a Human quickly.”

The words took a dull, ringing moment to sink in, but once they did, Roman jerked back sharply. “Virgil, what—?”

For the first time, Virgil held on, keeping his hand pinned in place with ease even as he had to grip the bars with his other hand to remain upright. Roman could see the way the Human’s pulse fluttered under the skin, a heartbeat racing visibly exactly where Virgil had indicated.

“It’s important. You need to know,” Virgil insisted, and lifted their joined hands higher, to his temple. “Head wounds bleed a lot. Gashes up here are valuable because the blood runs down and drips into their eyes, which will work pretty well as a distraction—,”

“Stop it!” Roman demanded, yanking harder as his panic increased. “I’m not going to— stop talking like that! I don’t need to know how to hurt you!”

At the start of their voyage, Roman would have done just about anything for information like this, anything to feel safe on his own ship again. So why was he learning it only now, when each word and accompanying gesture made him feel ill and rotted down to the tip of his tail?

“It’s not— Roman, it’s not about me,” Virgil said, frustration seeping into his voice. He let Roman drag his hand away from his face, but still didn’t let go. “It’s about them.”

Roman wasn’t sure he believed that. “I don’t need to kill anyone. They’re brainwashed, this is Marta’s fault! I know the truth, now.”

Virgil shook his head, ghosted the fingers of his free hand over his implant scar with a distant, sickened expression. “It’s not that simple. I don’t want guilt to be the reason— Look. If it’s them or you, I want it to be you. I want you to make sure it’s you.”

And what if it's me or you? Roman thought, but the words lodged firmly in his chest until he could barely breathe around them.

“They all made their choice,” Virgil continued once it became clear that Roman wouldn’t respond. “They’ve kept making that choice, every time. You have to want to survive, too, okay?”

Mutely, Roman nodded, trying to ignore the creeping sense of horror. He pulled Virgil’s hand back towards himself, fumbled for speech for a long moment before finding the words and hoping they didn’t feel like a betrayal when spoken aloud.

“The underbelly,” he started, and Virgil’s expression— shut down. Every hint of body language went flat like stone, and just as unyielding.

“No.” The word was final, a sentence all its own, and Roman scowled mulishly.

“But—!”

“Roman.” Virgil lifted his other arm over so that he was clasping Roman’s hand between both of his own. “You’re the only one left, right? You told me that.”

The thought was still a wound-like pang in his chest, even after all this time. “Yes,” he admitted. “But, even still—,”

“No way. I don’t want to hear it, man. There’s nobody I would be willing to use it on, anyhow.” Virgil kept his gaze locked firmly on a point past Roman’s shoulder, but his shoulders were set, his voice steadfast.

There was no point arguing. Not now, when the both of them were one wrong move from collapse.

“Okay,” Roman finally said, and forced himself not to protest when Virgil reclaimed the position of lecturer. It was a struggle not to wince away with each gory anecdote, a full guide on the quickest ways to make the Human body stop functioning or even turn on itself.

“Gut wounds are slow to kill, but they can be painful enough to debilitate. There are vulnerable organs here, below the rib cage, and damage to them is difficult to treat without surgery if the wound is severe enough…”

Still, he held himself at attention, did his best to memorize every word.

If Virgil wouldn’t accept knowledge about Roman’s own vulnerabilities as a gift of equal exchange, Roman would simply have to treasure this information with the same dedication that he applied to the rest of their small crew.

After all, knowing all the individual weak points of a Human would make it that much easier for him to protect each and every single part of Virgil.

Virgil wasn’t going to die. Not here, and certainly not by Roman’s own claws. Not if Roman had anything to say about it.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Anger: Raphael’s Ending (Angst) (18+)

2007!Raphael x reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Leonardo's Ending

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A/N: Here it is! The one you all have been waiting for! The last chapter of the Anger series. Raphael’s Ending. Now, enjoy yourself as you fool around once more with Raphie boi❤️

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Warnings: Angsty emotions, strong emotions, face sitting, oral - female receiving, every slight sub Raph and dom reader, turtley anatomy, unprotected sex.

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Reluctantly Raphael did like Leonardo had told him, and went to Donatello to get his arm checked. Turned out it was a good idea to get Donnie to look at it. The injury had been way worse than Raph had thought. To say that Donnie was freaking out was an understatement. He was screaming and yelling like Leo often did when he was mad, asking him how he could have been so careless. With Mikey watching quietly, listening intently to all of Donnie’s questions, waiting for Raph’s answers in anticipation. But as Donnie wrapped up Raph’s arm, he shot down every single one of the questions with a growl. It was none of their business what had happened, and he had no intention of telling them anything. Especially not new mother hen Donnie, who’s questions made Raph’s four toes curl in frustration. Except for his bad toe. Donnie had to wrap that one up too.

With his arm and toe bandaged, Raph didn’t do much the next few days. He ate and slept, restlessly waiting for the moment he knew who you chose; him or his oldest brother. In all honesty, the waiting made him anxious. He was jumpy at all sounds, turning to look at the entrance, hoping you were about to walk in. But every time it was either nothing but his own imagination, or just one of his brothers.

As the days went on, Raph only became more and more fearful. Sitting in his room late at night, his leg with his good foot restlessly bouncing up and down, staring into his wall, wondering what you were doing. What you were thinking. Maybe you were thinking about Leo. All this time, after that night, were you thinking of Leo? It was a dreaded thought that Raph found more and more often, causing him immense stress.

During the day, Raph would watch Leo out of the corner of his eye, unsure of how he could keep so calm, during these tense days of waiting. Did he not fear what the possible outcome would be? Or did he know something that Raph didn’t? Was he so calm because he had no reason to fear the outcome? That was the thought that kept Raph at the edge of his seat, fears and insecurities clouding his mind. Leo was so calm, because he knew you would choose him. That was at least the fear that was taking root in Raph’s thoughts.

At night, Raph stayed up late, laying in his bed and staring at the ceiling of his room. The slight pain in his arm when he laid the wrong way kept him up. The mere thought of you kept him up. The smell of you in his room kept him up, bringing back all the memories of you and him, tangled up in his bed sheets. The way you moaned into his ear, begging him to keep going, your arms grasping around him as he would continuously thrust into you, enjoying your warmth against him. Raph felt longing re-enter his heart, alongside the stinging pain of sadness.

What would Raph do if you decided to go back to his brother instead of him? What could he do? Would he have to go back to how he used to go about his feelings for you? Fueling with immense anger and hatred towards you and his brother’s relationship. Raphael hated the thought. For once he was tired of being angry. He just wanted you back in his arms,  and feel his world become peaceful once again. He wished to feel your lips once more, and hear your beautiful voice say his name, just like you had done all those times.

Raph cursed himself in his bed. Why did he never tell you? Why did he never tell you that he loved you? All those times he had you under him, he never took the time to tell you those words that filled his head. He loved you. Fuck, how he loved you. It was the reason he got himself into this mess and made a fool of himself in the first place. All because of his anger, impatience and his love for you. He had been so blinded by his own wants and needs, that he did not think of you nor your wishes. And now, after finally having gotten a taste of you, Raph would never be able to live a life, knowing you were as amazing as he had thought you would be, and not having you.

Raph rubbed his face, before turning onto his good side with his back towards the door. Did you know you had the power to drive him crazy? With the storm he was feeling inside, there was no way that you didn’t. He was sure that the lightning from his mental clouds could be heard all over New York City.

While laying there on his side, Raph heard the door to his bedroom creak open. He sighed in annoyance, knowing fully well it was Donatello who had comed in to check up on his arm.

“How many times do I have to tell you, Donnie?”, Raph growled in annoyance as he sat up so he could turn to look at the door. “My arm is okay! You don’t have to check on it every-”. Raph stopped mid sentence, once he realized it wasn’t Donnie that had walked into his room. Raph was shocked to see you close his door behind you, before turning your attention towards him.

Your eyes fell upon his arm, and concern flashed over your. “What happened to your arm?”

“Nothing”, Raph said, still not fully sure if you were actually in his room, or if his mind was playing tricks on him. Had he finally gone crazy? Had he lost his mind? Had all this waiting and longing for you finally turned his brain to mush?

You watched Raph for a moment, before finally moving to his bed, taking a seat next to him. This all felt strange. These kind of quiet moments between you and Raph had been a rarity for these past two years. Normally Raph could not even wait less than a minute, before he would jump at you. But now he was just sitting there, watching you with wide eyes, fearing that you would blow up in smoke and disappear. But the feeling of the mattress dipping as you sat down, and your scent in the air told him the truth. You were really there.

“How are you doing?”, you asked, with a small smile on your face that made Raph’s heart melt.

“Yes”, Raph said, a hesitant smile forming on his lips. “Especially now that you’re here”. His smile faltered for a moment, before he reached out with his good hand, and took yours. “I’m sorry, (Y/N). I should have told you he was home…”

“It’s okay”, you whispered, bringing your other hand up to sooth the back of Raph’s hand, your fingers slowly stroking and making shapes on his skin, sending shivers down his spine. “I forgive you, Raphael”. Raph stared at you in confusion, not sure if he could believe the words that had left your mouth. Yet, you still sat there and smiled at him, your fingers ever so slowly gliding across his skin. “Though I felt really hurt, I do think I understand why you did it”.

“Why?”, Raph asked.

“You feared that I would go back to him, didn’t you?” You turned his hand over, before continuing your shapes on his palm. “That I would leave you as soon as I heard he got home?” You took Raph’s silence as an answer. “I don’t blame you, Raph. I really don’t. And I’m sorry that I yelled at you”.

“I deserved to be yelled at”, Raph sighed, looking away from you. “I was an idiot, to both you and Leo. A jerk. I shouldn’t have done or said those things”.

You placed a hand on his cheek, turning his face to look at you, a warm genuine smile meeting him. “Like I already told you, I forgive you, Raph. And I know Leo well enough to know he’ll forgive you too”. Your thumb stroked his cheekbone. “It's all going to be okay”.

Raph leaned into your touch, savoring the feeling. “You’re amazing, (Y/N). I don’t deserve someone as good as you”.

“Then I guess it’s too bad I’ve decided to stay with you”, you smiled, your face getting closer and closer to his. Raph’s heart started rising once more, and he felt his palm getting sweaty. His eyes glued to your lips as they came closer. “What do you say, Raph? Will you have me?”

Raph did not answer you. Instead he crashed his lips to yours in a hungry kiss, just like he had done so many times before. Fuck he had missed this feeling so much. Your soft tasty lips, and the small sounds that came from them. There was no way you did not know how crazy you were driving him.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, as you hungrily kissed him back, moaning softly as your tongues started dancing together. You wasted no time taking your hoodie and top off with the help of Raph’s good hand, letting your nipples harden in the cold air of Raph’s room, before you just as eagerly started pulling your joggers down your hips, leaving you in a pair of red thongs. Raph could feel his head spin at the sight and the strong scent of your arousal.

A bit harshly, Raph pushed you onto your back before climbing on top of you, roughly grinding his hips against your dripping core, feeling the soaked fabric of your underwear against his pulsing cloaca. How good he was going to fuck you. After such a long time of waiting, he would have you screaming like never before, until the only thing you could remember was his name, and the feeling of his dick buried deep inside of you-.

“Ouch! Shit”, Raphael breathed, grabbing on to his still injured arm, pain painted across his face. He had accidentally put too much weight on his arm, now causing his arm to act up.

“It’s okay”, you said, leaning onto your arms, a mischievous smile on your face. “Maybe this time it’s my turn to be in control”.

“Maybe it is”, Raph said, a small smile making its way to his lips.

Raph followed your lead, and turned over to lay on his back. He watched as you climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. Raph’s good hand found its way to your hips, where he softly stroked your love handles with his thumb. Sure, he had had you on top of him before, but never like this. It had usually been with you lying almost limb against him as a moaning mess, your arms loosely hanging around his neck as he held you close, and arm around your back and one around your hip as he thrusted wildly into you. But this was different. You sat on top of him in full control, looking down at him, as he laid there, all to your mercy. It was a new but welcomed feeling, that Raph was surprised he hadn’t tried out with you before.

The smile on your face as you looked down at him sent his heart into flames. You slowly started rolling your hips against Raph, causing him to throw his head back with his eyes shut, a moan escaping his mouth. You bit your lip at the sound. You had never heard such a needy moan from the red clad turtle, feeling your panties getting even more soaked. But those sounds that were flowing from Raph’s lips, gave you an idea.

“Have you missed me?”, you asked, lifting yourself from Raph’s cloaca. This caused Raph’s eyes to snap open, staring to the point where your hips had been connected, burning need shining in his eyes.

“Yes, I’ve missed you!”, Raph moaned, lifting his hips to meet yours, only for you to move up even further, causing him to huff out in frustration.

“What if I asked you to show me, how much you have missed me?”, you asked innocently, letting a finger slowly slide over his cloaca, causing Raph to whimper slightly under you.

“I’ll do it!”, Raph breathed, his chest moving as he took heavy breaths. “How ever you want me to show you, I will!”

Raph watched in anticipation as you lifted yourself even further from him, before slowly working your thong off. He could feel his mouth watering as he felt yet another wave of your arousal against his nose. It didn’t take long before your red thong was laying somewhere on Raph’s floor, and you moved further up Raph’s torso. Once your core was hovering above his chest, Raph realized what you wanted him to do, and he smiled, grabbing your ass with his good hand, before scooting a little down the bed, so you had plenty of space for your legs above his shoulders. You could feel his breath against your thighs as you hovered over his face, your fingers gracing the top of his head.

“Are you going to eat me out good?”, you asked innocently, a mischievous smile plastered over your face.

“Yes”, Raph breathed out, trying to pull you down onto his face with one hand. “Please just let me do it, (Y/N)”.

Raph’s begging went straight to your core. With a delighted hum you lowered yourself onto his face, letting out a moan as his tongue started to move in circles around your clit.

“You’re doing so good, Raph”, you breathed, watching his face work under you, feeling his tongue flick against your clit. He hummed against your folds, the vibration causing you to moan out loud. You took Raph’s good hand and moved it from your ass to your breast, where he started to play with your nipple, as his tongue found your entrance. You started grinding against his face as his tongue thrusted into you, your moans and the wet sounds filling the room.

As Raph continued to work his magic tongue on you, you turned your upper body and reached out your arm so you could let your fingers reach his cloaca once more. You felt Raph jolt slightly under you, moaning against your core once more, as your fingers slowly found their way into his slit, teasing his opening.

You felt the familiar feeling build up in your stomach, letting you know that your peak was getting close. Raph’s tongue sped up, continuously moving in and out of you, as he slowly felt himself drop into your hand. Your legs shook around his head, letting Raph know that you were getting close. But before he could get you pushed over the edge, you moved from his wet face, moving back down his torso. Raph leaned onto his good arm, his face glistering with your wetness in the light, and watched you as you hovered over his arching dick, using your hand to line it up against your entrance, his pre-cum slowly being smeared over your opening.

“You’re fucking beautiful”, Raph mumbled, before laying back on his shell, so his hand could glide down your side. With a chuckle you leaned forward and captured Raph’s lips once more. You moaned at the taste of yourself on his tongue. Raph moved his hand from your side to your head, deepening the kiss, just as you started to slide down on him. Raph broke from the kiss with a moan, looking down to where he ever so slowly disappeared into you. You whimpered slightly, bracing yourself with your hands on Raph’s plastron, before you continued further down his shaft, feeling him stretching you out. Raph cursed out loud several times, almost getting dizzy at feeling.

You continued down until you had taken him all the way, leaving both of you breathing heavily, taking in what the two of you had been missing for what felt like an eternity. Once you had adjusted to his size, you slowly started lifting yourself up his shaft, before lowering yourself once more. Raph once again threw his head back, moaning out in pleasure as you slowly increased the speed. You had never seen Raph like this before. Laying under you like a moaning and whimpering mess, mumbling incoherent things, that only served to make your heart pumping faster. This was something you could get used to.

You stopped for a moment so you could adjust the angle of your legs, causing Raph’s head to shut up, staring at you with pleading eyes.

“Please don’t stop, (Y/N)”, Raph begged, raising his hips under you eagerly.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the terrapin, pushing his hip down onto the mattress once more. “Don’t worry, Raphie, I won’t”.

Raph moaned out loud at the nickname, before you started moving on him again. His breathing became heavier as he felt his own peak inching closer, his hand feverishly grabbing onto your thigh. You felt your own high coming closer again, causing you to speed up your movements further, fighting through the mild burning in your leg muscles. Behind you, you could feel Raph’s legs move restlessly, and his hip frantically thrusting up against you, as his orgasm washed over him.

“Yes!”, he moaned out, his hips buckling up against you, his eyes closed shut, pleasure painted all over his face, as he started shutting white robes inside of you. “I fucking love you, (Y/N)!”

That was just what you needed before your own orgasm hit, causing you to fall against his plastron, moaning and panting as you pulsated around him, milking the rest of his orgasm out of him.

Raph wrapped his arm around you as the two of you layed there, getting back your breath. That was where you turned your head towards him and placed a tender kiss upon his lips, before giving him a smile that lightened up his world, along with the words he had always wanted to hear with your beautiful voice; “I love you too, Raphael”.

[sturnzyolo]

Shadows

Matt Sturniolo x fem reader

Warnings: fluff, swearing, a little eerie scenery, crying, stress, bullying mention, comfort, anxiety, and slight obsession (anything else will be added in later parts)

slight summary/teaser: reader feels a significant connection to a particular classmate of hers, her teacher's favorite student. One day, when on her way home, she hears something.

⚠️ my first ever fic so don't hate if it's absolute shit although I take honors english + I will NOT be writing any smut, (sorry u horndoggaroonies) bc I believe my digital footprint is terrible as is, so. let's not add onto it!

(This part is mainly created on my computer so if anything's fucked up ill fix it on my phone)

PART 1

3rd person POV?

Matt didn't understand why he was so favored in his calculus class, he wasn't a nerd, although he seemed like one with his glasses and button-ups. It wasn't like he got every answer right, no not at all. He barely even paid attention in class, his mind wanders instead.

Mr. Robinson has always been overly kind to Matt, he would have him stay after class or during passing period just to talk about how Matt was doing. Matt would constantly get a run down about Mr. Robinson's son having terrible anxiety. Maybe that's why he was so easy on Matt and favorited him, he most likely just reminded his teacher of his son, which seems more like pity. Matt usually would find this behavior odd, most teachers didn't even know Matt was in their class til he asked to go to the nurse, bathroom, office, or if there was any group project, he'd always be picked last by some group who didn't have enough members.

He noticed y/n looking at him in class, only from time to time of course, he found it weird how someone could be paying attention to him, then again he just thought she was making fun of him in her head.

Bullying wasn't like it was in the movies, for Matt, it was just whispers and stares. Kids would laugh as he passed, most called him the teacher's pet if they shared calculus with him. He mainly stuck to himself, somedays he didn't even show up, if it was just staying at home to do work online or going to an early therapy session.

Y/N POV

May 13th, 2024

(let's pretend their 18, in their senior year in 2024)

A dreadful Monday morning, Matt was wearing a collared white and blue striped button up with dark tan cargo pants. I watched him walk up to his seat in calculus class, nobody spoke to him except Mr. Robinson, giving an overly cheerful, "Goodmorning Matthew" as he headed in. Matt only muttered a tired "morning" as he threw his backpack next to his desk and leaned into his chair while he sat.

Class went as normal throughout his lecture. Honestly, I could've fallen asleep, for once I understood the material, so I found paying attention quite useless.

"Matthew what's the answer to page 347 question 9?" Mr. Robinson said abruptly

I practically jumped out of my seat, he never called on Matt, and I was shocked he finally did. I looked over to see Matt, knocked completely out of his daze, I guess he didn't expect the sudden call out either.

Matt fiddled with his pencil nervously as Mr. Robinson waited for an answer, yet he was only met with "Um's" and "Uh's" out of Matt.

I kicked Matt's ankle gently, I covered my mouth loosely as I whispered the answer, which I had to quickly figure out. I felt awkward in the moment just watching it, so I couldn't bare it lasting any longer.

Matt nervously repeated my words with stumbles, which I was even shocked that it was correct. Mr. Robinson seemed proud with a nod and a slight smile "Correct, amazing work Matthew"

Even with the praise he still seemed nervous, he was still anxious from the awkward occurance that had all the eyes laid onto him.

He turned back to me slightly, whispering a soft "thank you" before he sat up and tried to compose himself

"No problem" I said back quietly, although my voice was practically a loud speaker to Mr. Robinson, who almost instantly snapped his cold gaze towards me

"Ms. Y/L/N stop the talking back there or you're going to the office" he demanded in a very threatening tone

I never left it alone whenever I was unfairly called out, Mr. Robinson knew this, and I swear he did it to get a rise out of me.

"Sir I wasn't even talking!" I called out

"Well you are now so zip it or you're out." He argued

I scoffed "You always target me, I barely even opened my mouth sir, besides you shouldn't talk to a student that way if you're always pushing us to respect you when you don't even return it!" I don't know why I argued, it's pointless and I knew that

"I can talk to you however I like, get out of my class!" He yelled. I sighed and packed my things before throwing my bookbag over my shoulder and walked straight out of class. I gave Mr. Robinson a glare but he wasn't even looking, I dont know what I did for him to hate me but love Matt.

I stepped out into the hallway and slumped down the wall midway to the office, I didn't want to go. Besides nobody would even notice or care. I heard the classroom swing open, I quickly stood up thinking it was Mr. Robinson. But it wasn't.

Matt came out instead, "why's he out here" I thought, I decided it was a perfect chance to finally speak to him

"Shit you scared me, I thought you were the teacher" I said as I looked at him with a slight smile

"Oh sorry I didn't mean to scare you, uhm but thank you again for helping me back there with the question." Matt said lowly in somewhat of a nervous mumble

"No worries, I could tell you looked a bit lost. So why does Mr. Robinson favor you so much out of everybody, I was just curious." I finally was ready to hear the answer, I always thought they maybe were related somehow but then again it didn't seem like it and the school would separate them anyway.

"Uh well I think it's cause I remind him of his son, I barely even know the answer to that. I find it just as weird as everybody else does, people think I'm a teachers pet because of it." He admitted as he nervously tugged as his clothes, which I noticed.

"Oh, well I should probably go to the office since Mr. Robinson's most likely going to call them and ask if I showed up, bye matt, I'll see you in class" I said

"Bye y/n, im sorry for getting you in trouble" the last half of what he said barely was audible to me with the quiet tone he used as I walked away to the office

I already have an idea of where this story is leading & I'm guessing it'll only take at most 4 parts to get there, I just feel bad stuffing one part with so much. Also if the writing & dialogue suck it's bc I rushed this SORRY 😔

THIS PART IS RLLY BORING I PROMISE THE NEXT IS SM BETTER‼️

PART 3 OUT NOW

[st4rgzer]

heyy i love your fics, like actually you have talent but anyways i have a really specific request so... can you please write something really fluffy where y/n is scared of needles, like she litterally can faint. so she has to go to the doctor (like get vaccine or something) and shes so anxious and afraid and she asks matt (you choose if they are dating or just friends yet) to drive her there and he agrees. she is trying to keep her cool but when she sees the needle and realizing what is going to happed she gets really stressed and like start to panic and matt try and calm her down? can you do it please? also i ADORE youre song fics.

NEEDLES matt sturniolo

summary: Matt goes with you to your dreaded appointment

genre: fluff!

cw!: needles!!!!!

a/n: hi love ty sm for requesting, i’m sorry if it isn’t exactly what you asked for? but i hope you like it, i am also deadly afraid of needles so this was hard to get through😭 (and i really really appreciate you like my song fics<3)

“Matt can we please reschedule the appointment please” I begged, tugging on his arm as he took a can of soda out the fridge.

“I’m sorry, baby, but you already postponed like, 3 times, plus i’ll be right there with you, okay?” He said before opening the can and sipping, then placing it on the counter, diverting his attention to his distressed girlfriend

“everything is going to be fine, we’ll go shopping after, get some food, whatever you want” He cupped my face as he tried to convince me not to fret, reassuring me that, despite my persistent stubbornness and fear of needles, I would be completely fine. I somewhat believed his words, although I think that thats just the effect of Matt being Matt.

I sighed and dropped my head to the crook of his neck.

“I don’t know, I’m just nervous, I know it’s stupid” I mumbled, my muffled words being hard to understand.

“Hey, look at me” He gently held my chin up as a slight pout formed on my face, earning a small grin from him.

“I’m going to be there, it’s just a small moment, nothing more” His words repeated like a mantra in my brain “a small moment, nothing more” I hoped it was just that, an instance.

I never knew why I was cursed with the fear of needles, I just was, ever since I was a little kid, the mindset kind of just stayed with me throughout all my life.

That night I slept uneasy, In Matt’s arms, which helped my situation slightly.

……

I cursed under my breath as the moment came, sat in Matt’s car, googling all the posible breathing techniques, anything that could take my mind off it just a little.

My grip on Matt’s hand became more and more tensed as we got out of the car and approached the doctor, I felt my heartbeats in my throat, and Matt sensed the discomfort in my steps.

“hey, I promise it’s okay” He whispered in my ear, placing a petal kiss on the crown of my head. I took a deep breath, and nodded, before stepping into the dreadful room where I hadn’t been for a long time.

As I sat down on the chair, I felt the heat rise to my whole body, making my hands sweaty, despite it being the middle of winter.

The nurse was friendly enough, I think I would’ve thought she was nicer if she wasn’t going to be actively piercing my skin with a needle.

“okay sweetheart, it’ll just be a pinch” She smiled at me, giving me the kind of comfort you get when an elderly woman smiled at you on the street. That helped distract me for approximately 5 seconds, before returning to taking deep breaths.

“Look at me, don’t look at your arm” Matt cautioned me, fighting to meet my gaze as I looked concerned at the lovely nurse disinfecting the spot that would later be punctured. (dramatic asf)

I hesitantly looked at him, founding some sort of consolation within the familiar smile. I decided to start tracing every detail with my eyes, trying to let my mind wander somehow.

I was enjoying finding new spots and freckles, curves, specs in his eyes, new things to admire . As absurd as it sounds, it surprisingly distracted me enough. My breath hitched and I winced, but when the needle finally made contact with my skin, and came out, it wasn’t as bad as I anticipated.

“Well done my love” He congratulated me, rolling my eyes at the embarrassment of being celebrated like a little baby, and to be fair, I did act like that, but I was enjoying the treatment.

Before getting into the car, he kissed me, wrapping his arms around my waist, leaning against the hood of the car.

“Thank you for putting up with me being a scaredy cat” I mumbled, leaning my head against his chest.

“I’m happy to do so, and I’m keeping my promise on taking you out for lunch and shopping” He grinned at me as a smile started forming on my face, knowing there was no point on trying to convince him not to buy my all these fancy things, he’s too stubborn.

He opened the car door for me and put on my seatbelt, insisting that I don’t move my arm for 2-5 business days, even though the shot was on my non dominant hand. Who am I to decline this princess treatment?

taglist: @dwntwn-strnlo @iha8you @lovelysturniolo @gabbylovesreading @strnlsblog @strniolo @ssturniolo @sturniolol @stvrni0lo

[the-final-sif]

A thing a lot of people need to learn, is when you have a specific task or action that causes you an undue amount of anxiety and/or mental effort; take a moment and consider how often you interact with that thing in a positive light.

Like, phone calls and emails. Stop for a moment and ask yourself; when was the last time you just called a friend to talk? Not on discord, on your actual phone? Or just made a phone call for something that wasn't at least moderately stressful? If the only time you're making phone calls is doing something that requires a lot or mental effort or stress, of course your brain is going to associate phone calls with mental effort and stress! That's just your brain accurately understanding the situation.

Similarly, when was the last time you wrote an email to a friend in a semi-formal style? When was the last time you sent an email for something that wasn't stressful? When was the last time you wrote an email in a moderately professional fashion for something that wasn't either work or school? If you experience a lot of anxiety or high mental effort for emails, odds are the answer is it's been awhile. No wonder you hate writing emails, what reason have you given your brain to not hate it?

Obviously, every case is different, but if you find yourself constantly dreading or getting really anxious about tasks like phone calls or emails, or anything of the sort, try to give yourself some positive, easy experiences alongside the stressful ones.

For phone calls, call a friend! Talk for a couple of minutes about pets or a project and then be done with it! Make it fun and light!

For emails, swap emails with a few friends and try to keep up exchanging normal, semi-formal emails with them. It doesn't have to be super long or serious, just general little life updates will do. But try to keep the writing style to something near what you'd use in professional emails.

It won't magically fix everything, but I do think a lot of people seriously under estimate the amount of good that a bit of positive reinforcement can do for your brain. And underestimate how much more mentally taxing stuff gets when you only have negative associations for it. Your brain is trying very hard, but it is only meat soup, and it can only do so much with the ingredients it's given.

[cjsoleil]

Straight From the Tortured Poets Department (Bang Chan x Reader)

Authors note: This is part two of a two part series, part one is right here. You don’t necessarily need to read the first one, but I recommend you do. Enjoy.

Time had gone by quicker than Chan and Y/N would have liked. If Chan wasn’t sure about the girl before, he certainly is now. He met her parents a little less than a month after they started dating, something Chan had been dreading. It was bad enough that he came from next to nothing and only had a shit job at a bar, but not meeting them before dating Y/N must not be doing him any favors.

It’s embarrassing, how nervous he was sitting across from her parents. Living under the circumstances he does, it’s safe to say he’s been in a number of stressful, nerve wracking situations. Despite this, he’s never been more anxious than at that moment.

It was a little out of the blue when Y/N had mentioned that since her parents were back in town, so he had to meet them. When he joked and told her she should give more of a warning, he found that it was unexpected for her too. She didn’t plan on telling her parents about Chan right away, but plans changed the day after her parents came back to town.

“So, what boy have you been hanging out with?” Y/N had nearly spit out her tea when she heard the question.

“What?”

“Marie said you’ve been spending some time with a boy.” Her mom called from the kitchen. Y/N simmered in the question for a bit, and wondered however Marie found out about her and Chan. She had thought back to when San saw her at the drive in and it becomes much more clear. San, despite not seeming like one, is a gossiper. He probably told the boy he always hangs out with, Wooyoung she believes his name is. And word spread as quickly as a forest fire. Luckily, they did not act outrageously. Though she actually had to introduce Chan to them now.

It went better than Chan thought it would. There was no yelling about how a man like him is unworthy of being in their daughter’s sight, and other than the threatening undertone her father had every time they spoke, he’s pretty sure Y/N’s parents kinda like him. Well, her mom likes him at least. On another note, Chan did get lucky. Y/N’s father had handed him a card, confusing him at that moment.

“Tell the secretary at front desk you are meeting me. Be there at noon on Monday. If you’re a minute late, don’t bother.” Chan had been speechless, reading the card. Y/N has never mentioned her father’s business before, so he wasn’t aware that he works at a famous publishing company.

Wait, not work. Owns.

Chan always knew Y/N’s family has money. It drips off the diamonds hanging on her ears and covering her wrists. Still he didn’t think her family was so rich.

Chan thanked the man profusely, repeating and repeating his gratitude so many times it must have been annoying. The company has published a number of works by his favourite artists and offers him a career he would never be able to get otherwise. Chan does not have any education, he never even finished high school. Originally he was concerned about this, but after expressing his worries to Y/N they disappeared.

“Chan dear, that doesn’t matter. He wouldn’t have offered you a job if you couldn’t do it.” Chan didn’t have any more concerns after that.

Y/N’s parents are gone again, her father needing to go to one of the department branches. Her mom always goes with him. That leaves the house to Y/N and Chan. Y/N has only been to Chan’s place once. It’s located in a less than safe area and Chan firmly believes his girl has no business being in such a place. It is a tad overprotective of him, but it can’t be helped.

The two watch a movie on Y/N’s tv. It’s some love story. Chan has never cared for them, but Y/N loves them. So they watch on as the man on screen sets up an elaborate scene to propose to his girlfriend.

“Quite obnoxious isn’t it?” Y/N comments from her spot under Chan’s arm. He looks over to her as he raises his hand to undo Y/N’s hair. She wears it up a lot more often now.

“You’re not into grand gestures?”

“That’s not what I said.” Chan runs his fingers through the girl’s hair, “Though I believe they’re unnecessary.”

“They can be sweet.” Is all Chan says, glancing over at the screen to see the male lead on his knee and the woman yelling yes.

Once the movie is over the two went upstairs to Y/N’s room. Chan is captivated by her collections. Shelves full with records and books.

“I never took you for a hoarder.” Chan comments, making the girl reach over and slap his shoulder, “You take good care of these.”

“Of course.” Y/N sits on her bed, and Chan picks a record, putting it on the record player. Music floods the room and he sits next to the girl.

“So anything special we’re going to do before you go?” Y/N hums, barely wanting to think about how she’s leaving town in a few weeks.

“Everything is special with you Chan dear.” She says it sickenly sweet without a hint of sincerity. He laughs and grabs her face softly, squishing her cheeks.

“You’re such a doll.”

Chan shakes Y/N’s face side to side before leaning in and kissing her pursed lips. It starts as one kiss, then two, and then Chan is holding Y/N’s face in his hands whilst kissing her passionately.

“I think I know.” Y/N whispers when Chan pulls away, nervously looking to the side, “A special thing we can do.” Chan takes a moment to process her words, before his eyes widen.

“Babydoll.” He practically groans the nickname, leaning in and kissing the girl quickly again, “Are you sure?” They have shared many passionate moments, but never went close into… that territory.

“We can wait til marriage- or longer if that’s what you want. Or never. Don’t worry about what you think I want, I only want you to be comfortable.” Y/N smile grows larger as she listens to Chan’s spiel. She places both of her hands on his shoulder, leaning forward.

“Sweetheart.” She stops his rant, “Why would I ask if I didn’t want to?” Patting his face, she leans away and he can clearly see how red her face is, “Wait until marriage? That’s so far away, is it not?”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Chan lifts Y/N’s left hand and kisses where the ring will be, “I’d marry you tonight if you wanted.”

“What would my parents think? Their daughter getting married without their knowledge.”

“And having sex out of wedlock is much better?” He laughs as Y/N makes an embarrassed sound and looks away from him.

“Don’t be so blunt.” It only makes him grin harder.

“Didn’t you just try to seduce me?”

“I didn’t- I-“ She sputters and Chan can’t help but press a hard kiss against her cheek.

“Now, to be serious.” He holds both her hands, “Is this something you really want?” “Do you love me Chan?” “More than words can ever express.” “So yes. I do want it.” He sighs, rubbing his thumbs over the back of her hands with a smile.

“It will hurt. I don’t want it to, but I fear it can’t be helped.”

“What is love without pain?”

“That’s a common misconception.” Chan says, “My love should never hurt you.” Placing a soft kiss at the corner of Y/N’s mouth, he starts to trail down to her jaw and neck. He gives a soft bite to the place below her ear before whispering to her, “So let me ask again. Are you sure?” Y/N’s faint whisper of ‘yes’ is all he needs to hear.

Chan grabs her face and brings her lips to his, hand going through her hair. He hears the girl hum when he bites her lower lip, and forces his tongue inside her mouth. Y/N has to physically push him away when she runs out of air, but he stays close. He moves to the side of her neck, one hand on her thigh. When her skirt starts to ride up, Y/N grabs his hand.

“Sorry.” Y/N smiles sheepishly as Chan pulls away, “Just instinct I guess.” He smiles softly.

“What else?” He tilts his head as she mumbles her answer, cute. “Hm?”

“I’m… embarrassed.”

“Of what? Your body?” He practically scoffs at the damn idea. Faster than Y/N can process, she is lifted to sit sideways on Chan’s lap.

“You can leave your clothes on, if that’s what you want. But don’t do it because you’re embarrassed or ashamed or for some stupid reason like that.” A kiss on one of the red marks on her neck. Since Chan’s hand was released upon placing the girl in her lap, he moves his hand up her thigh. Slowly so he can be stopped. He’s not. His hand reaches the fabric of her underwear and neither can hear the music playing anymore. Chan feels Y/N tense.

“Relax.” He tilts his head and brings the girl into a kiss in a attempt to sway her attention. He slips his hand into the fabric, swallowing her gasp.

As tempted as Chan is, he decides against dipping his finger inside just yet. Instead he lets his fingertips wander, smirking when Y/N lets out a cute little sound. After a while, he pulls his hand from under her skirt. The girl in his lap breathes heavily and Chan grins upon seeing what a effect he has on her.

“That’s nothing babydoll. Poor thing, you really don’t know what you’re in for.” He looks back at his fingers, a shine on them. Making eye contact with Y/N, he smirks before bringing his fingers to his own mouth, licking the wetness off of them and moaning at the taste.

Y/N is absolutely mortified, wishing she could close her eyes but her mind won’t let her. The heat pooling in her stomach is nearly unbearable and every time Chan opens his stupid mouth it gets worse. His deep and raspy voice sends a shiver down her spine. The smirk he wears reminds Y/N of the devil he truly is, rather than the darling she is used to.

Y/N lets out a little shout when Chan suddenly stands. Chan drops her on the bed and climbs on top of her. He cages her head with his elbows and rests his forehead on hers.

“Hey.” He whispers.

“Hi.” She squeaks back.

“You okay?” She nods and when she says ‘yes’ he sits up. He smiles, and his hands start to go up her legs. Slowly, he pulls down her underwear and throws them to the side. He moves down and rests between the girl’s legs. Leaning upwards on her elbows, she looks down at Chan.

“What are you-“

“You trust me baby?” He interrupts before she can ask anything more, “Yes or no, Y/N.”

“Of course I do. Yes, but what-“ Y/N cuts herself off with a moan and her arms collapse, falling back on the bed. The feeling is gone after a moment and she is left wondering what the hell that was.

“What-“ She is cut off again, and for a split second she sees Chan’s head nearly disappeared under her skirt. He pulls back, running his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Fuck, that’s good.”

Folding the skirt up to Y/N’s hips, Chan returns to his spot. He licks directly over her hole before dipping the tip of his tongue inside. The girl gets louder. She’s never felt like this before. Chan swearing almost made her legs shake, he’s never done that in front of her before. On instinct, Y/N grabs Chan’s hair in her hands and tries to push him away. She doesn’t get away with it, as Chan grabs both hands and pins them on the bed.

“Be a good girl.” And he presses her hands into the mattress slightly for good measure before letting go. This time, he grabs both of Y/N’s legs and rests them on his shoulders. He keeps a strong hold on her thighs and goes back down. Rather than just the tip, he forces most his tongue into her hole, making her cry out.

“Channie!” She clenches the blankets, moan after moan being forced from her lips as Chan dips his tongue inside her, licks and sucks at her clit. Occasionally he will let out a moan of his own, Y/N feels the vibration in her bones. She doesn’t know why he’s doing so though, since this can’t possibly be doing anything to make him feel good. She doesn’t think that hard about it. She can’t really think about anything other than Chan. Unknow to her, Chan is truly having the time of his fucking life eating his girl.

Suddenly a near scream like noise fills the room, and Y/N barely registers that the sound came from her. Chan had put two fingers inside her without warning, kissing her clit. “Oh- oh my god Chan.” She whines and he lifts his head just to show her a dangerous smirk. His mouth is wet and oh this is so embarrassing.

“Isn’t that nice?” He scissors his fingers, “Don’t you feel good?” Y/N doesn’t give a proper and he clearly doesn’t appreciate that, sucking her clit hard, making her cry out. “Words doll.”

“Good.” She pants out moving a hand to pet Chan’s head. He lets her, “So good Channie.” She yells out his name again when he adds another finger. Chest rapidly rising and falling as she tries to catch her breath.

“Fucking hell, you’re so pretty. Pretty girl.” His fingers curl inside her and something about it is different, it makes Y/N grip Chan’s hair so hard tears may have been brought to his eyes while she brings up her other arm and bites down on her forearm to cover up the much to loud sound that comes out of her. “Oh you like that baby?” Chan moves his fingers to touch that spot again, making her whine, “Yeah, I know you do.”

After a few minutes of torment, Chan moves up the bed to kiss Y/N’s lips, up her jaw and to her temple. He moves his thumb to replace where his mouth was previously. It brings a burning feeling to her stomach and her whole body tenses. Y/N reaches out to hold Chan’s wrist and push him away. This time, Chan doesn’t bother moving her hands, the weak pressure on his wrist doing nothing to faze him.

“Chan- Chan I feel-“ The sentence is not finished, the girl shoving her face in the pillow under her head. “What is it?” Chan forces her to look at him with a hand to her chin, “Tell me.” “Feels weird.” Y/N mumbles with a lack of better words to describe it. Chan laughs lightly. “Weird, you say?” He leans down to Y/N’s ear, his whispered words sounding like shouts, “Do you feel like you’re burning baby? Like you’re being held over a fire and forced to feel nothing but the flames kissing your skin?” He places a barely there kiss on her earlobe, leaving her skin red and hot, “Or are you overwhelmed? Are you drowning, with nothing but pure desperation rushing through your vains to get what you need?”

Not a single word was registered by the girl on the bed, Chan knows. He still only smiles as he moves his fingers faster, grabbing her face again to get her attention. “Be a good girl and let it go, I got you.” And Y/N is pulled into a completely different world. At least that’s what it feels like.

Her grip on Chan’s wrist slackens, and he pulls his hand away to see indents of her nails on his wrist. Not that it matters. He focuses on running his clean hand through her hair and dries his other one using the bedsheets.

When Y/N can finally force herself to speak, she doesn’t really know what to say. So the first thing that comes to mind is what is spoken, “That was nice.” In a single second Chan bursts into laughter, leaning his head down onto her shoulder. “Yeah it was.” He agrees, “That was your first time cumming?” Y/N face turns an even darker shade of red as she nods. Chan didn’t have to ask, he just wanted to get an answer. It boosts his ego, being the first and only person to ever make his girl feel like this, “You ready for more?” “There’s more?” Chan can’t tell if she’s being serious but even Y/N doesn’t know. Her eyes are drawn downwards to the front of Chan’s pants and there’s a lot more.

Chan first takes off his shirt, and the sight of his bare torso is not an unfamiliar one to Y/N. He runs hot, and often is not wearing a shirt when they are alone. Still, Y/N can never resists running her fingers along the outline of his chest, down to his stomach and over his abs. While his torso is something the sculptors in Paris can only dream of having as a muse, it’s really Chan’s arms that get her going. Large and muscular, showing just how easy it is for him to throw her around when he wants to. His pants are next, along with his boxers. Y/N refused to look, keeping her eyes on Chan’s face. His hands go up to Y/N’s shirt asking softly if it was alright for him to take it off. The answer is yes, all embarrassment regarding Chan seeing her body gone after what he has just done. Soon, the two are left naked on the bed.

“Stop staring at me.” “An impossible task, beautiful.” Y/N rolls her eyes and lets out a gasp when she feels Chan’s tip inside her. “This is the painful part, but I promise I’ll go slow. Feel free to punch me if you want.” Chan starts to push in and hell it does hurt. Despite being stretched out, Chan’s big, and it hurts. Background to the pain is an undertone of pleasure, and Y/N keeps her hand covering her mouth to muffle her sounds. “Shit. Shit, you feel so good.” Chan moans and presses his lips to her neck. He lets out a small whimper as he unconsciously thrusts forward, bottoming out, “Just- hm- tell me when you’re ready.” He kisses down her neck to her collar bone and top of her chest as he waits for Y/N to ready herself, “I know it hurts. Your body is not familiar with mine, but it will recognize me after tonight. It will understand I belong right here.” He finds one of her hands and interlock their fingers.

A few moments pass, and Y/N taps his shoulder “You-you can move.” Chan smiles and lifts himself up a little, not before pressing a long kiss against Y/N’s lips. “Hold onto me.” Y/N nods and rests her hands on the man’s shoulder blades. He starts slow, sweet as he gently rocks his hips. Soon though, Y/N is tapping her hands on his back and is asking, begging him to give her more. “You want me to fuck you harder, hm?” Y/N moans louder at his word choice. Chan never talks like that in front of her. Always one to behave in front of a lady, like he loves to say. “Please Chan.” Chan smirks, saying something about how his girl is so polite before he starts to pull out completely and thrusting hard.

Y/N scratched up Chan’s back, not having enough conscious to consider that it may be hurting him. Chan welcomes the sting though, he kind of hopes they scar. A physical claim for her to make on him. “It’s amazing, you know?” A particularly hard movement, “Every gasp, every moan. You create poetry without saying a single word. What a talent.”

“Chan. Channie.” She moans out and pushes Chan down to meet her for a kiss. Tears fill her eyes and threaten to fall since she feels so much more sensitive now. He pulls away and kisses the corners of Y/N’s eyes. Sweet, a drastic contrast to how he’s moving. After a few attempts, Chan finds an angle that hits Y/N’s spot, making her muffle a scream in her pillow. “Please more, Chan Chan-“

“Fuck.” Chan clenches his jaw when Y/N tightens around him, feeling just on the edge of release. With a grunt, he wraps his arms around Y/N, one hand holding the back of her head and the other at her lower back as he picks her up. Chan settles her in his lap and doesn’t give her any time to even process the sudden change in position as he grounds himself on the bed and thrusts up into her. Grabbing her waist, Chan pushes Y/N down as he thrusts up, making him go in deeper. “Come on babydoll. Come for me.” Arms wrap around his neck, Chan feels her bite his shoulder and tighten around him, “Atta girl.”

When Y/N comes down from her high, Chan gently pulls out and kisses her, letting her stay seated in his lap. “Chan you didn’t, um…” Y/N doesn’t finish her sentence, blood rushing to her face as Chan stares at her with a smile. He looks a mess, hair messed up, a bite mark on his shoulder and scratch marks on his arms. If he looks like that, she can only imagine how she herself looks. “I don’t think we should start a family until we’re married.” Chan kisses close to the middle of Y/N’s chest, where her heart lies under skin, muscle and bones. “Well-yes, I agree but I mean… can I help you?”

Chan blushes at that moment, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Do you want to?” Y/N affirms that she does, “Okay.” He pecks her lips, “Touch me baby.” Y/N brings her hand to Chan’s chest, kissing his shoulder as her hand goes downwards until her fingertips make contact with Chan’s cock. She touches him carefully, too nervous to do anything more. “Wrap your hand around me.” Y/N obeys, holding Chan in her hand. Chan moans loudly, jerking his hips, he doesn’t know how the fuck he managed to not come inside her earlier, “Shit. Fuck yes, that’s good honey. Move your hand a bit- yeah just like that.” Y/N barely needs to do anything before Chan is cumming, groaning into her neck.

When he feels alive again, Chan wipes off Y/N’s hand and his own stomach with the bed sheet before lying down, bringing Y/N with him. “Are you sure you don’t want to get married tonight?” Chan asks and a laugh echos through the room, over the music playing on the record player, “Ah Nevermind. I don’t have a ring yet.” “Maybe when I come home for the holidays.” “A winter wedding sounds lovely.”

Standing at the train station together, Chan thinks that maybe this was a fraction of the feeling military wives felt while sending their husbands off to war. Not the same, because there is no fear that Y/N will not be coming back, but the point still stands.

“Have you ever been on a train, Chan dear?” “Yes. But not the formal way.” That makes Y/N look at him with a confused expression,

“I used to train hop.” The girl nods looking forward towards the tracks. The autumn wind has just started to come out, messing up both their hair. The sun is setting, giving a warm golden hue to the world around them. “I’m sorry your parents weren’t able to make it.” Y/N shrugs, it’s not a big problem to her. “It’s alright. You’re here.” “Forever.” A voice rings through the speakers, announcing that the next train will arrive soon. “That’s me.” Y/N looks towards Chan, “You gonna miss me Channie?” “Not at all.” He pulls Y/N into a hug as she laughs at him, “I feel as if you are going to war.” Y/N pulls back from their hug, but stays close enough for Chan’s arms to remain around her waist. “School is not quite the same as a battle field.” “Either way, I will miss you just as much.”

Y/N has to look away from him when she feels her eyes water, “Hey, hey. Come here.” Chan wraps his arms around her from behind, swaying as they stand facing the horizon. Normally, Y/N would never allow Chan to display such affection in public, as it isn’t appropriate to do so. This time though, she lets it happen for both their sakes. “You know, one love the sunset when they are sad.” Y/N smiles upon hearing the reference. “Why is that?” “Many different reasons. Maybe because it marks the end, because it brings tomorrow just a little bit closer.” Chan rests his chin on Y/N’s head, “Or maybe it’s because the sky is beautiful at this time.”

They watch the sky until another train arrives. Y/N doesn’t have to say a word as she turns around just for Chan to bring her into a kiss. She wraps her arms around his neck and reaches up on her tiptoes as Chan bends down. It’s not even a deep kiss, but it conveys their feelings all the same.

Together they walk to the train and once onboard, Y/N quickly finds a seat next to the window and sticks her head out the open window. Chan waits just below and holds up his arm. Y/N reaches out and holds his hand. “I love you babydoll.” Is all he says before he places a kiss on the palm of her hand, the back and her ring finger, “I will be ready with a ring when you come back.” “Will you propose at the train station?” “The odds are not slim.” He gives another kiss. “I love you too.” Y/N says over the train engine, as they just are about to start moving. She is not close enough to see it, but a tear does fall from Chan’s eye.

The train moves very slowly at first, so Chan walks along with it and doesn’t let go of Y/N’s hand. Soon though Chan is forced to let go and Y/N assumes that he will stay still and let her pass, but he doesn’t. “What are you doing?” The question comes out as a laugh when Chan starts running along side the train. “A grand gesture!” He yells back, and runs until he can’t keep up anymore. Y/N waves as Chan disappears into the distance, before eventually sitting down in her seat. She cannot wait to be on this train again, with snow falling behind the windows and going the opposite direction.

“Chan dear, the last one if for you.” Y/N gestures to the final box under the Christmas tree. They sit together on the floor, along with their dog. A older mutt, used to be stray called bandit, “It’s fragile. So please be gentle.” “Ah, I hope it is nothing outrageous babydoll.” Chan smiles as he undos the perfectly tied ribbon on the box before he takes off the lid. “You didn’t doll.” Chan laughs as he reaches to grab what’s inside the box. “Oh but I did.” Chan lifts a small, King Charles Spaniel puppy out of the box. She squirms as Chan looks at her. A little red bandana is tied around her neck, ‘Berry’ sewed into the fabric in white. Chan brings the puppy closer to his face and allows her to give him plenty of face kisses. Bandit makes sure to get closer too, sniffing at the new family addition.

“I love you.You are the best wife a man could have, you know that?” Chan asks as puts Berry in his lap to lean over and kiss Y/N’s lips, before grabbing her hand and kissing the ring on her finger. One he gave to her three years ago. “I love you too, and of course I am.” The puppy crawls out of Chan’s lap and over to the woman, who allows Berry to rest on her leg with her head on her stomach. She makes sure to pet the older dog too, since like Chan, he tends to be a little jealous at times as well. “You’re not going to be the only lady of the house anymore.” Chan smiles and rubs the puppy’s ear.

“Oh we may overpower you soon.” Y/N laughs and gestures to her stomach, “We are still unsure as to what we will get.” “Ah, but I’m sure he will be a boy.” Chan places his hand on his wife’s belly. He quickly leans down and gives her belly a kiss before straightening up and kissing his wife properly.

“You cannot possibly know that.” “I have a feeling.” “And if she ends up being a girl?” “Then I will love her just as much.”

[raysoleil]

・゜゜•Commitment・゜゜・

"Tesoro" spoke Terzo softly and tiredly as he rose from the bed after a wild night with his favorite ghoul, Omega.

The day was bright and the sun came in from the window, Terzo had forgotten to close the curtains the night before, he sighed and got up, walking over to his closet and scrambling through it trying to find his suit, all while Omega was just getting up and stretching, yawning as he looked around and his eyes locked on the papa for a moment.

"I'm gonna go to practice with the ghouls." He said with a dry tone, it didn't take long for Terzo to respond

"Oh tesoro don't leave so soon, must you practice?" Sometimes the man felt like he was pathetic, needing the ghoul's company but it was true, he wanted to be held by him, to be loved and cherished by him but Omega didn't seem to want to reciprocate, and whenever he didn't feel like he needed company he was out.

"I'm not planning to stay here." spoke up the ghoul, yet again making Terzo feel like he was talking to a wall because of how dry the ghoul was.

Oh but how the papa loved him, he wasn't always like this, the ghoul could be loving! Or that was how Terzo saw the half hearted acts Omega would do just to make him stay close him and it surely was frustrating. Terzo continued to look at Omega for a moment to then look back at his nightstand, taking in the hour on the clock and sighing, he had to hurry up to be on time "Tesoro, won't you bid me goodbye?" Said Terzo as he looked at Omega with a soft gaze.

The ghoul didn't seem to be interested but he figured he'd have to do it if he didn't want Terzo to be upset.

Omega got up and went over to Terzo, giving him a short and soft kiss, when he pulled away Omega felt Terzo try to keep the kiss going until eventually giving up when Omega straightened up.

Terzo looked at Omega for a few seconds to then twist his lips up into a small smile, he turned on his heel and went over to the door, looking back at Omega and winking just before closing the door.

"... Ugh" The ghoul couldn't help himself but make a sound of disgust, he had been trying not to upset the man in hopes of saving all the drama but it usually didn't last long... At all.

The ministry was almost entirely silent and the only sound that could be heard came from the practice room where Omega resided, the ghoul could be a loner every now and then and would prefer to have a break from the world and his problems... And by problems he meant the increasing dread he felt, he didn't want to catch feelings for Terzo, at least not a full on "I'm in love" mindset, a crush was fine, Omega didn't care, but he couldn't let himself fall in love, he increasingly grew uneasy and worried about this ordeal, Terzo was nice, Omega knew that, but he also had his downs, it was difficult for the ghoul not to sigh every time he thought about what he should do. The ghoul spoke up with a sigh and an annoyed groan "What a mess"

Meanwhile the papa Omega was stressing over was getting ready for a ritual later in the day, putting on his famous suit and painting his face, the school becoming clearer as he painted in the black parts, he stared onto the mirror, looking at his face and hair, making sure to look perfect for the ritual and for a possible visit from his favorite ghoul.

A knock was heard on the door and when Terzo opened the door he saw Cardinal Copia, Terzo spoke up, looking at the cardinal with a raised brow "Do you need anything fratellino?" Terzo's tone was neutral, he didn't care much for the cardinal, he was a skittish and anxious man whose sole purpose was becoming the next papa.

The man spoke up softly with slight nervousness invading his tone "The ritual might be slightly delayed due to an incident related to a ghoul summoning..."

Terzo narrowed his eyes momentarily to then groan and sigh, looking at the cardinal with a frown. The cardinal began fidgeting with his fingers, now incredibly nervous. "I understand this may be a little bit uh... Annoying papa.. but it's imperator's orders..." The cardinal looked at the ground for a second, uncomfortable, he looked back up again to speak but was interrupted by Terzo "yes, yes understood, no need to explain more, Imperator chooses what to do" Terzo's tone wasn't exactly polite, he sounded annoyed of course, he had been waiting for this ritual all week and now it had to be delayed till satan knows when.

Meanwhile the quintessence ghoul, Omega, was with the other ghouls, discussing the incident.

The ghoul summoned had been through too much pressure while the ritual happened and therefore died after being summoned, Alpha and Omega were the ones more focused on the situation, talking about how to prevent this from happening to other ghouls, Imperator then came inside the room, staring at the ghouls with a neutral expression.

"The ritual shall begin in a few minutes, get ready, no being late, you know how your papa gets" Imperator grumbled and left the room, not letting the ghouls respond to her order.

By the time everyone was on stage it had already been 15 minutes past the originally planned time, Terzo was upset, he hated being late to rituals, he had been complaining during the entire preparation of the show.

Omega on the other hand couldn't give less of a fuck, he took his time and calmly put his instrument into shape, tuning it and putting it on his shoulders.

"Argh... Who does imperator think she is eh? There was no need to do this" spoke the papa to the quintessence ghoul, Omega looked at Terzo and frowned "a ghoul died, did you expect everyone to let it's body rot on the ground just so we'd be on time?" The ghoul growled as he spoke, feeling the lack of awareness about how terrible Terzo's statement sounded "Eh? What?! I never said such thing" responded the papa with an offended tone, how could he possibly say such a thing? Is what he thought.

What a bad start for a Ritual.

End of part one.

GEEZ TOOK ME LONG ENOUGH AM I RIGHT?!

I'm sorry it's this short, I've been having some trouble writing and with my mental health! But I swear I'll try to get part 2 done as soon as possible.

Please give this love guys

[ot7stan4life]

My Comfort

Jiu & Dami x Female Reader

*Requested*

(1 part - completed ✅)

Word Count: 2,400

Summary: Just as you and your seven members are getting set on stage to perform at an award show, you start to have a panic attack. Minji and Yubin pull you backstage to help you through it.

Warnings: depictions of panic attack, self-deprecating dialogue, fluff ending

You had never considered yourself an overly anxious person. In fact, you prided yourself for how well you dealt with stressful situations, especially since you were forced to experience them often given your occupation as a kpop idol. The worst it usually ever got was a nervous heartbeat and sweaty palms here and there that might’ve distract you long enough to forget choreo at a fansign or trip over your words in an interview. Never anything major.

Certainly nothing like this.

As you stood next to your members on a dark stage, taking your place before the performance began, an unavoidable dread hung heavy on your heart. You couldn't be sure what exactly caused it—maybe the exhaustion you’d felt after a year of nonstop shows and promotions, maybe the added pressure that came with greater recognition following your group’s first win, maybe the constant hate being thrown at you that seemed even more prevalent in the recent weeks—whatever it was, it made your body hyper aware of everything around you.

The hundreds of people with their eyes drawn to the stage where you stood, whispering and talking. All with their own judgmental opinions of you and your members and your song and performance. The cameras zooming in, filming your every move, there to catch any mistakes and project it for the audience to see and record it for the world to replay over and over again for as long as they wanted, critiquing every little detail. The stage lights flipping on, shining a spotlight on you like an object to be ogled at, now overstimulating your senses and blinding you.

Why was it so bright? Had these stage lights always been this bright?

Your mind was racing with endless thoughts, never able to decide which one to focus its attention on. It was like flipping through a photo book without stopping long enough to take in one single picture. Just a never ending cycle of images and thoughts flooding your mind when you should've been focused on the upcoming performance. But it only got worse when your brain seemed to process the clothes wrapped around your body. All the sudden they felt too small, too tight. You wanted to rip them off of you. They were suffocating, just like the lights and the people and the camera and quicker and quicker your lungs inhaled and exhaled, oxygen thicker and harder to breathe with every breath. Sweat beaded on your forehead and you soon felt lightheaded. Your limbs all tingled with a sickly cool sensation and your mind grew foggy. The crowd in front of you started to waver and spin as the ground below you grew unstable. You weren’t moving but the room around you was. There was so much noise and silence all at the same time and your heart stung in your chest and pounded in your ears.

You couldn't even hear the music start, but it didn't matter anyways because you were clutching your chest and falling to the ground before you could ever move, the performance a distant blur to you. In that moment you’d forgotten where you were altogether as black dots spotted your vision, spreading until all you saw was darkness. For a second you thought you might've passed out, and maybe you did, but the next you were being dragged off stage by two strong pairs of arms, secure around either side of your body with your own arms slung over their shoulders. All you could do was weakly step in stride with them as they lead you somewhere backstage. Your eyes were closed now, but that only made it worse.

Your thoughts were somehow even more overstimulating than the surrounding environment. Once you processed what just happened, they became less random and more intentional. More targeted. They scolded you for being so weak. So unprofessional. How could you just let something as routine as a performance overwhelm you? How could you let the opinions of those who didn't matter get to you? How could you pass out on stage in front of a live audience? How could you embarrass yourself like that? How could you embarrass your group like that? You ruined the performance. You made your group look bad. You let your members down. You let the crowd down. You let your fans down.

One after the other, shot after shot fired at yourself, breaking away your strength and busting through your once composed exterior. Tears that you didn't realize had accumulated underneath your eyelids spilled down your cheeks while your lungs fought hard to keep up with the fast pace of your heart. Everything hurt and you felt trapped inside yourself. You were sure you’d never be able to break free from the prison of your mind and escape the incessant torture of negative thoughts.

Until you heard a soft voice.

"Y/N,” though it was distant, it started to ground you. Pull you from the darkness that consumed you. You felt the cushion of a couch beneath you and one hand on your shoulder, the other on your leg. "Hey, look at me." Another pair of hands felt soft and warm as they were gently placed on your cheeks. The contact willed your eyes open and forced you to look up at her through your tears. Focusing on anything was difficult, but Dami seemed to understand this, calmly saying "breathe" followed by a repeated rhythm of inhaling and exhaling oxygen through her lungs. You closed your eyes again and focused on her breathing, eventually matching her steady pace. Slowly, the thoughts started to dissipate one by one, your mind zeroing in only on the sound of air leaving her lips. The excruciating hammering of your heart gradually slowed to a normal, bearable rate as you leaned forward into her touch. Just as your forehead met hers, everything seemed to calm and your mind was finally at peace once again.

"You're okay,” she whispered, smoothly brushing her thumbs across your cheeks to collect the stray tears falling down them. "I'm right here,” she reminded you. You weakly reached up to hold onto her wrists, finding comfort in the feeling of her skin against yours.

Dami took the contact as a good sign and hesitantly leaned her head back so that your foreheads were no longer connected, but left her hands cupping your cheeks. When you opened your eyes and sniffled, you found her looking at you with a concerned expression, yet she granted you a small smile in hopes that it might lift your mood.

"I'm sorry,” was the first thing you thought to say. Your voice came out weak, groggy from the crying fit that had irritated your throat.

A different hand appeared in your peripheral, raising to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, drawing your attention to a member you didn't realize was sitting next to you on the couch until now. "Don't apologize,” your group leader spoke gently but assuredly, her eyes glazed over with unshed tears upon seeing one of the women she loved have an anxiety attack right before her, rendering her helpless.

You let out an unsteady exhale before leaning back against the couch. Dami released her hands from your face, instead placing one on your thigh and the other in one of yours: a silent reminder that she was still there with you while your attention shifted to Minji. "I ruined the performance,” you voiced. It was true, after all.

"That doesn't matter,” Minji shot back, unhappy with the fact that you would ever blame yourself for something like this.

"Yes it does,” you pushed back, now fully aware of just how big of a deal this was. "We’ve been preparing for this all year and I ruined it." The back of your throat started to burn, warning of oncoming tears.

"You couldn't control it,” Minji insisted, her perfect, pink lips pulling down further into a frown the more you berated yourself. "That's not your fault, baby." She inched closer to you, affectionately brushing her hand across your cheek, making you look into her eyes. It was obvious she was trying hard to convince you to see the truth in her words, but the damage from your previous thoughts had already been dealt.

"That doesn't matter,” you repeated her words. "People were counting on us to do well." Your eyes focused somewhere in the distance, no longer looking at her or Dami. All you could think about was your fans and how much you had let them down. "The fans have been waiting for this all year and I blew it." Your jaw clenched while you tried desperately to fight back the tears.

"I guarantee you not a single fan cares about the performance right now,” Dami replied matter-of-factly. Truth be told she was a little angry that you cared so much about the performance when that was the most irrelevant concern in her mind right now. They both knew you were stubborn and often tough on yourself but this had taken it to a whole new level.

"Everyone out there is only worried about your well-being,” Minji added, using her thumb to tilt your chin up so that you were looking at her again. "You getting better is all that matters right now, you got that?" She cocked an eyebrow, her tone less gentle in order to get her point across.

Sighing, you gave in, "yes,” you accepted, pushing the blame to the back of your mind for now.

"Good." Minji finally allowed herself to smile. The mere sight of it never failed to make you feel better. "Now let me go get you some water,” she said, standing up and placing a soft kiss on the top of your head before leaving the small dressing room.

Dami squeezed your hand, bringing your attention back to her. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly, scooting closer to your side in her own sort of protective way, never tearing her eyes away from you. You knew she was still worried, especially since this had never happened before.

You sat up straight, turning more towards her before replying, "I'm okay." Squeezing her hand back, you leaned in closer, finding comfort in her warmth like before. "Thanks to you." Your words elicited a smile from her: a real, genuine smile. You couldn't resist yourself, scooting even closer to kiss it off her face in a show of gratitude. Just like earlier, she held your cheeks in her hands, keeping you there as if you might dissolve into thin air or pass out again if she didn't support you.

"You really scared me for a second there,” she mumbled when you separated, her voice unsteady. It was rare for Dami to show such vulnerability; that's how you knew her words weren't an exaggeration. She had seen it all happen in slow motion, her heart stopping dead in her chest when you dropped in front of her. Both her and Minji were quick to rush to your aid, not caring one bit about starting the performance. The other members carried on reluctantly, despite their obvious concern, knowing at least someone had to remain on stage to see the performance all the way through. Had it been up to them, they would've blown it off just to make sure you were alright.

"I know,” was all you could manage in response. It came as a shock even to you, so you really can't imagine how surprised and horrified they were. They all had such big hearts, especially Minji; it was very likely that seeing you in such distress was more painful for them to witness than it was for you to experience. "But I'm okay now,” you reassured the younger member, placing your hands on top of hers and giving her your best convincing smile. She reciprocated, though hers still appeared uneasy.

"Here, my love,” Minji's voice prompted Dami to release you from her hold, allowing you to grab the chilled water bottle the leader was handing you. You thanked her and took a sip as she resumed her spot next to you on the couch. Her hand instantly raised to comb her fingers through your hair while you drank, apparently not wanting to go a second without showing you affection. A silence washed over you as they both just watched you take slow sips of the water, allowing your mind and body to finally find some relief.

Once you drank enough water, you screwed the lid back onto the bottle. Before you could put it on the small table in front of you, Dami carefully grabbed it from your hands and did it for you. Though you could've done it yourself, you found her extra cautious and caring behavior heartwarming.

"The members were wanting to see you, but I told them to give you some space for now,” Minji informed you, her hand now playing absentmindedly with your fingers while she stared at you lovingly, her head propped up by her other hand on the back of the couch. "Whenever you're ready, we can go over there or I can send them over here, but there's no rush." She interlocked her fingers with yours, her patience and thoughtfulness causing familiar butterflies to rage in your stomach. "I also want you to get checked out by medical staff... just in case." Her lips pursed as if just remembering what happened all over again and the thought of it brought her discomfort.

"Okay,” you complied with a gentle smile of thanks. Though, you didn't feel it was enough, so you tugged on her hand, edging her towards you. She got the hint and leaned in to close the distance. Her lips moved rather hesitant against yours, almost like she didn't want to harm you any further. You let go of her hand and brought yours up to her face to pull her more into you, sighing against her mouth in content.

Even just a simple kiss from either of them could wash away all the bad feelings you’d ever felt. They were your comfort, and, from here on out, you swore to never take that for granted.

**This imagine was transferred over from my Wattpad account OT5Stan4Life**

[thebroccolination]

Working in an indie bookshop has been a dream. Granted, it's only my first month, but man. :')

By nature of the shop, every shift is different. Tourists, regulars. Some are chatty, some are quiet. New books are always arriving. Events, book club. Seeing what people want to order, getting requests for recommendations.

The customers have all been absolutely lovely and deeply patient with me whenever I have an "I'm new, sorry, one second," moment.

And like, today, a girl came in for a book she had on reserve. I started to ring her up and she said, "Oh, sorry, I paid already," and I had a frozen moment because I realized I had no idea how to check on that in the software. So I made a judgment call based on Vibes and said, "You're good, then!" and handed her the book. She said, "Are you sure?" and showed me her bank app opening on her phone, but I smiled and waved her off. After she left, I rang up another customer, waved goodbye, glanced at the other customers browsing, and then she reappeared and told me, "I'm sorry, it'll stay with me all day if I don't–" and she showed me the transaction on her banking app. We both smiled, and as she headed off again (making sure to close the old door correctly behind her), I watched her go and thought, That's a lovely human being, and I hope she loves her book. (Percy Jackson.)

A pregnant woman came in looking for gifts for the children of a friend she was on her way to see, and she was so bubbly and excited about her own baby, she left me smiling for a good ten minutes after she left.

A man bought four books and his card didn't go through, but I was so busy chatting and laughing I almost missed it. I had to re-scan his books and redo the whole transaction, and he was so understanding and patient, we exchanged two more stories after his receipt came through, and both of us were laughing by the end.

A family of four came in, and one of the girls asked for a horror comic. I couldn't find one, so her father helped her pick something else. After they left, I ordered two middle-grade horror comic books so they'll be there for her next time.

Like, I actually rest on my days off now because I'm not dreading going back. I can't overstate how wild that feels. I have the next two days off, but I'm genuinely looking forward to being back there! When I worked Monday-Friday in an office, I did not have that experience. I got into the bedtime procrastination thing of staying up until 2am on my phone because after the commute to the office, work, and the commute home, I had so little time to myself. I was drained and anxious.

I don't take anything home now. No stress, no reports, no projects. I come home, I get head-bunts from my fuzzy roommates, and I unwind.

Small Talk About Books and Sometimes Also People's Small Dogs: The Job really has been a dream. Today I talked to thirty-six people about books, and in between customers, I read "Welcome to the Hyunam-Dong Bookshop" by Hwang Bo-reum while snacking on rice krispie squares I made and listening to a soft piano Ghibli playlist I put on.

The only downside is the pay, but c'est la retail work.

In conclusion, indie bookshops are very yay, and I'm incredibly grateful to have a job in one. <3

[bwoahtastic]

Dan coming back unannounced, he’s been on edge ever since he left for the war and he gets approval to come back earlier (obv from Jenson) and he’s so excited to see his omega and their pup🥺Max hears him and runs to Nico’s chambers (more like the nursery?) where the pup is. He makes something up for being early for a feeding but Nico doesn’t mind too much. He can see the younger omega looks stressed and he really does care about Max too even though he doesn’t really show it. The pup is a bit restless because they can sense that Max is anxious. Max flinches when a maid knocks on the door and when he hears there’s someone to see him he is filled with dread. Nico doesn’t really understand what’s going on, just hears that Max’s alpha has returned. Daniel coming in and Jenson is with him. Max almost collapses when daniel asks if this is their pup. Nico handing the pup to Jenson and supporting Max while he tells Daniel what happened. Nico even hisses at Daniel when he moves to touch Max. He’s so protective of the younger omega and won’t let Daniel berate Max for losing their pup. But Daniel’s got tears in his eyes and just wants to hold his mate. The royal couple lets them be for a little while while Max and Daniel get a moment to grieve together.

Jenson taking them to see the grave where he’s placed fresh flowers on Daniel’s behalf since the pup passed.

Also Daniel blaming himself for it? If he would’ve been there maybe Max and the pup would’ve been stronger. Being away from your alpha can be dangerous and affect your mating bond.

Oh plss🥺🥺

Max hearing and sensing Dan is returning and he panics! Max running to the Royal Chambers because he wants to get his mind of it and just avoid Dan as well. He is early for the feed but Nico let's him take the little Prince from the crib, just getting worried as even the pup fusses, nothing Max is scared and nervous.

Jenson coming in with Dan because Dan couldn't find Max and Jenson knew he would be with the Prince then! Daniel rumbling so happily seeing Max and he doesn't question max being in the Royal Chambers. He knows Jenson well and figures Jenson just asked the queen to keep an eye on max (which is what happened in a way). He is so excited seeing Max holding a pup and asks if that is their little one and suddenly Max is sobbing his little heart out and Nico gently moves the Prince from Max's arms to Jenson's and then holds Max as Max talks to Dan. Nico growling at Dan and holding Maxy so close but Dan isn't angry, he is so guilty for leaving Max and not being there for him. Maybe things would have been different if he hadn't taken the mission...

Jenson later on bringing them the little grave where he left fresh flowers every day to honor the little pup.

Also Dan having an injury? Nothing serious but he is hurting and pls Jenson would be so protective over him cos that shis bestie! And Max and nico are just amused and aoft because they both haven't seen such strength Alpha bromance before!

[kisha-myers]

Fem!reader - Ghost x König x reader fanfiction titled 'My Anxious Mouse'

Disclaimer: I do NOT own call of duty nor its characters/operators - I only own the plot.

If you want to be on the tag list for this series PLEASE comment on either chapter 1 or chapter 4 and let me know!

Chapter Five: Cinnamon and Clove

Your stomach continued to churn as you stood outside of Captain Prices' office, hushed voices within the only noises you heard above the faint buzzing of the fluorescent light that flickered every so often. You shifted on your feet slightly, biting the inside of your cheek hard enough to draw blood. The tangy yet sweet metallic taste that coated your tongue only served to make your nausea worse, making you pull deep steady breaths in through your nose to try and help ease it. The erratic beats of your heart made your head swim, eyesight going slightly foggy before you forced your right hand to form a fist and tap against the glass portion of the door.

You waited, the voices behind the door quieting for a moment before the sound of heavy boot clad feet made their path towards you. It was ironic, you thought, that those standard issued combat boots would unnerve you so bad. Your fathers steps, you recollected, sounded eerily similar - a revelation that made your heart pound so viscerally inside your chest it would surely burst forth and splatter onto the ground. A shiver of apprehensive dread ran through your body as the brass door knob twisted, your eyes zeroing in on the movement as you bit down harder onto your already bloodied cheek. Calloused scarred fingers housed in fingerless gloves were the first things you saw once the door swung open with a rusted hinge squeak. Slightly tanned skin almost the same coloration of fresh summer honey greeted your eyes as they trailed up his bare arm. The blue-green hue of thick veins visible from years of intensive physical movement and prominent muscle strain stood out to you, likening the way they weaved a trail up the arm similar to the little rivers marked on a topographical map. 

Broad, strong shoulders filled your vision next, his collarbone prominent and bare, catching the fluorescent light just right to give them a subtle shine. You didn't let your eyes linger for too long, this was Johnny's Captain after all - you had far more respect for this man - you would not let yourself ogle his delightfully strong physique… no matter how much you wanted to. 

"I was told you wished to speak to me, Captain Price?" Your voice broke the silence, the anxiousness in your tone alerting the Captain that you were nervous. He simply wanted to know if you were okay - he had taken a liking to you, a strong willed and stubborn young woman, you were a force to be reckoned with and you always knew just what to say to get Soap back in his place. Some days he had wished you were one of his soldiers, your competence was far brighter than some of the generals he'd worked with and under. You were observant almost painfully so, eyes always scanning the area for potential threats, back always against a wall and body positioned towards the nearest reachable exit. If he didn't know you better he'd assume you have some form of military training under your belt. You didn't however, have such training, but your father did and he was nothing if not consistent on training you like he did his own men whilst deployed overseas. 

"Just wanting to see if you were alright, y/n. Ghost briefed me on what happened - those kinds of things can be stressful." He replied, his voice low and gentle, soothing almost like the smooth burn of finely aged wine. Your muscles relaxed almost instantaneously, a miniscule huff of air slipping from between your lips in relief that you weren't in trouble. You took a deep breath in, forcing your lungs to expand and accommodate such a large quantity of oxygen. The lingering spiced notes of cinnamon, freshly ground cloves and the metallic twang of gunpowder filled your nostrils. Cigars, your brain deduced within seconds, freshly smoked - perhaps even a few minutes before you arrived. There were subdued notes of nuttiness, slightly sweetened you gathered, reminding you vaguely of pistachio macarons - this you decided, was the smell that had been lingering inside the humvee you could quite place. 

You offered a timid smile, giving him a little nod in agreement, "Having König practically breaking my door down was a wee bit stressful I'd say - didn't know what was happening until we got outside. He'd just hefted me up like I weighed nothing and took off like Usain Bolt down the stairs." You replied, a grimace overtaking your features as you recalled how ready you were to give the man a harsh tongue lashing for disturbing your sleep at such an ungodly hour. You'd be sure to Thank them both when you could find the time - even though they were still technically strangers, they did help you out and show you kindness when they didn't need to. A thickly rich baritone laugh catapulted its way into your ears, causing your heart to be a fluttering mess of endorphins. Captain Price simply shook his head, his chest practically vibrating with his laughter as he carefully moved aside, waving you inside his office. 

"He's a gentle giant when he needs to be, don't pay him any mind - he's hefted a few people up like that, Doll, and he's surely gonna keep doin' it." His tone was so sure and so nonchalant you wondered how often this feat occurred. Nevertheless, you carefully crossed the threshold, subsequently entering into the private space occupied by one other being. 

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick lounged leisurely on the Captains desk, deep umber eyes watching your every movement as you entered. His stare unsettled you only slightly, hints of playfulness swirling within their vivacious depths. He wore the same shirt as Price though he was clad in a simple pair of tan tactical pants, he still wore the standard issued combat boots, his laces tied to perfection with his pants tucked into them. The muscles of his arms bulged delightfully as he crossed them over his chest, his smooth caramelized gingerbread skin contrasted beautifully against the hunter green. It brought out different hues of clove and cinnamon, a few honeyed highlights casted here or there whenever he adjusted his position slightly. The tantalizingly sinful toothy smile that broke across his face sent a shiver of delight down your spine. You equated that look with the ones from the playboys in college, going that extra mile just to get into any and all panties they could. You decided you'd steer clear of Gaz for the most part - you weren't that kind of woman - never had been and never will be. A prude they had called you, but in reality you were just inherently cautious. 

You pushed those salacious thoughts from your mind, scolding yourself for being so promiscuous - typically you would reign in your hormones but perhaps the stress of everything was starting to grate on you. You unceremoniously flopped into the only free chair in the room, leaning back against its scruffy fabric as you e/c orbs took in the room. Subconsciously you angled your chair so you could have a better viewpoint of the door that remained open, the faint buzzing from the lights just outside in the hallway the only noise save for the collective breathing of the three of you. 

The room itself was pretty simple, a decent sized metal desk sat off closer to the wall adjacent the door, a basic (and albeit cheap) office chair sat behind it, Captain Price perched in it as he sipped on what you'd assume was tea. The walls were a light cream color, fitting nicely with the dark faux wood floors. There was a row of six drawer filing cabinets to the right of the desk, each one labeled in alphabetical order - of what was housed inside you didn't know, nor did you want to. You'd rather remain ignorant to the ins and outs of covert military operations for as long as you could, not that you would be privy to that information anyways - you weren't a part of that world anymore as far as you were concerned. The moment your brother Dante died, you were no longer interested in military life. Sure, you kept up with Johnny, sending him letters and pictures often - even a few care packages for him and the team, but aside from that you didn't want to know what went on behind metaphorical closed doors. 

"How often is he picking people up like a measly bag of flour? Is it like a workout thing?" You asked absentmindedly,  your eyes focusing on the framed picture of the entire task force on his desk, taking note that König wasn't present when it was taken. You assumed he was a new addition, which would make sense considering it wasn't until recently that Johnny had even spoken about him. Gaz snickered, attempting and failing to cover it by clearing his throat and biting his bottom lip. The action confused you though you remained quiet, opting to return your gaze to the other photos that were scattered across Price's desk. 

It was a compound, that much you knew and from the looks of it it didn't look like it was a friendly one at that. You quickly averted your gaze, opting to return it to the opened door of the office, taking in the stark contrast between the two spaces. While his office was generic at best, there was a slight familiarity about it - you'd seen plenty of offices like this from the photos you got from Dante - but this was different. Perhaps it was the way the task force acted like a dysfunctional family, that persuaded you that you were in a safe enough space to let your guard down slightly, or maybe it was just because you knew neither one of them wished to hurt you. Regardless you stretched out your legs, crossing them at the ankles as you shivered from the faint draft that wafted in through the open door. 

Price shrugged his broad shoulders, opening one of his desk drawers and pulling free a cigar. The metal scraping amongst metal made you squirm, you hated the noise immensely. Your father, you recalled, had owned a similar desk, one of which housed his SW1911TA E-Series .45 pistol. The stainless steel body and hand carved wooden handled weapon was his pride and joy, one of the first 'major' purchases he'd done the moment he was integrated back into civilian life. You never liked it, it felt heavy in your tiny hands and indescribably cold. Every bullet that you fired into a target made your body tingle, a sensation you utterly despised. 

'Better to know how to use one and actually be able to hit the target, then not know how to use one and end up dead. You may not like it now, y/n, but you'll thank me one day.' Though you were sure he was wrong, looking back on it you were thankful to some degree. His teachings and strict parenting style helped shape you into the disciplined woman that you were. You'd never outright admit to that discovery, but you were aware of it nonetheless. 

"Part of the job is all I will say - it comes in handy having someone that big and quiet a part of the team. He's pretty good with a sniper too - just hard to be one when you're that big." Price relents, cutting the end of the cigar off before placing it between his lips and lighting it. You watched as he inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he reveled in the subtly sweet flavor that coated his tongue, and the deliciously warm burn that sizzles on the back of his throat. Your eyes became transfixed on the cherry hued foot of the cigar, the sweet spiced cinnamon and clove with those undertones of pistachio and almonds enveloped you. 

"I see." You murmured, eyes beginning to feel heavy as exhaustion swept through your body like a wildfire. You tried your best to suppress a yawn though you failed, a small squeaky hum passing from your lips as you drew your legs up and into your arms, trying to find some semblance of warmth as your heavy eyelids drooped. Through the haze of your tired mind you felt familiar hands lift you into the air, a soft though heavily accented voice cooing to you softly, coaxing you further into the dreamless sleep you so desperately longed for. 

Everything, you hoped, would work out for the better. 

Tag List

@lianyanhongcheng @treehuggingzealot

@ofmenanduhhhmen @lovefallingtopieces

@grizzersmamma @kdkj122920

[handsome-john]

Nerves Organs Muscles

Charles Gears was never a man who could adapt easily to change. He had only been working in the SCP Foundation for 9 months.

The November evening had asked of Gears long hours and arduous efforts, demands and expectations he often met with little stress, however this case was not so. In the previous month, the director of the department of training and development had passed away in his bed of a heart attack, and the responsibility to pick up the pieces where his work had not been finished had fallen to Doctor Gears much to his distaste. Comfortable solitary monotony crashed into scheduling changes and conversations within meetings. Explanations, introductions. Even within the growingly familiar gilded prision of his office, his safely confining oh-so-routine chapel, the feeling as if one paper was slightly misplaced coiled around his throat.

His tie felt tight as his eyes glided away from his computer screen for a moment.

Eyes, stalks attatched to his brain.

He stood, chair creaking beneath him, as he approached a neat stack of documents laying on the other end of his desk. The papers were pristine, smelling of warm printer toner, not a single sheet out of place. Even so, his hands reached around them, lifting them above the hard, shining surface.

Clack

Gently he hit the bottom of the papers against the desk, as if straightening the already straightened stack. His gaze fell on the perfect white sheets with an anxious squint, they weren't tidy.

Clack

He did so again, face scrunching uncomfortably. That should have fixed them. Why weren't they better? Why was this happening? He shook his head and raised them a final time.

Clack

"Ah-"

Pain. He flinched away, dropping the stack. The feeling was sharp and hot inside the flesh of his hand, a small papercut across his palm. The edge of the paper was soiled with the slightest hint of red as he began to shake. For a moment he was at a loss for words, staring at the now disheveled papers in a mundane sort of dread.

His arm was shaking as his hand bled, throat tight and stomach churning.

It's unclean. Hand sanitizer.

And he rushed for the bottle on his desk, the ever-present sting of alcohol in the cut spreading like fire as he ignored it, rubbing more and more into his skin. He didn't understand why, yet his senses blazed as a panic set in, every inch of his body in and out feeling itself.

It's unclean, it's unclean. Why isn't it better?

Breathing, beating, salivating, blinking, bile roiled and mucus dripped and blood coursed. A nauseating mantra began in his mind.

Nerves. Organs. Muscles. Nerves. Organs. Muscles.

His body had turned against him.

This was the first time he had experienced a panic attack.

woah hello this is cool as hell! Oh Cog youre so screwed

[irenadel]

brushing johns hair after a long day

(the tiniest bit smutty, beware, unsure if this is what you asked for, but this is what came out)

It had been a weird fight. He'd just wanted to fuck. YOU'D wanted to fuck. He could tell, had in fact been following his nose straight to your panties from the last couple of blocks. You'd kissed him and wrapped your legs around his waist and he'd been so worked up, so ready to just fucking leave behind every goddamn frustration, every single one of the million fucking things that had gone wrong today... but noooo! It just wasn't ever fucking simple with you.

Granted... maybe he had switched positions too often, unable to get that good angle that just made his mind go blank. Maybe he'd ignored a couple of anxious questions about how he was feeling (but was it really his fault when your sweet, anxious voice made him so fucking hard?) ... Maybe he'd asked you to moan filth in his ear one too many times without being able to get you to say exactly what he'd needed to make that tight, broiling knot in his chest go away...

You were usually so good at that. You usually liked it.

I'm not your fucking stress ball, you had hissed angrily, smelling so much of arousal that it made him dizzy. Did you really need to get into it right now? Did you always need to be making mountains out of fucking molehills with him? Besides, you didn't have to get pissy AT HIM, because you'd had a bad day. He knew he'd fucked up the moment the words left his mouth.

You were angry cleaning now. Unpacking and dusting the seemingly endless boxes of books you'd moved into his condo. They'd filled him with a thrill of delight at first: your things in his home. He'd fucked you against the bookshelf he'd bought specially for all those little pieces of yourself you had surrendered to him. But now he just resented the excuse they gave you. The little fortress of private time (away from him) they represented. He hovered outside it, irritably clicking his tongue against his teeth, knowing he might need to apologize, dreading it anyway.

But you rescued him, as you so often did, and he near smiled at the thought.

"You can come help me, if you want."

He did want to, very much, and did not even try to cover his schoolboy eagerness when you handed him a dust rag and a pile of books. He'd asked you often why you didn't just have one of the various assistants always running around Vought do this... but now he thought he understood. There was something about the resinous smell of the new bookshelf, the prickly aroma of old books and the soothing murmur of your voice telling him this one goes here, hand me that other one, that seemed to unclench something inside him. He still felt bone-deep exhaustion, but he no longer wanted to break shit about it.

"You can just tell me when you've had a bad day, you know?"

He didn't let his hands stop, but rather scoffed and looked away, trying to forestall the inevitable. Predictably, you did not let him.

"Oh for crying out loud! Give me that!" You said, a part of you still smarting from the stupid fight, exasperation cut short the moment you reached for the book he held and your hands touched. He couldn't help it, couldn't stop being pathetic for you for a second. Apologies might be buried deep and hard to come by, but this was easier. It was infinitely easier to grab your hands and maneuver himself into your arms. Because you had never denied him this. He didn't know what he would do if you ever did.

He soaked in the warmth of your breasts, the steady beating of your heart, packed it away, secured it against the day it'd all be finally gone. When he felt your hands bury themselves in his hair he almost sobbed in relief. He did hold you closer, squeezed as hard as he dared, mindful always of your fragility, let himself draw in a ragged breath at the scrape of your nails against the back of his neck, pulling apart the strands of his hair along with the strands of himself. If he could have buried his face in your ribcage, crawled inside, he would have.

"I'm sorry," he whispered furtively against your neck. Your sharp intake of breath he hoarded as well, along with the weight of your lips on his hair, your sweet fingers touching his jaw so feather-light that they made him groan.

"I know," you say and he hopes you do. He hopes the day never comes when he cannot make you believe it.