#i just think these shots are cool af

[iaf]

Darius vs Blind Baryonyx || JWCT 2x8

[dootznbootz]

You can horny post and thirst for Circe and Calypso without making fun of Odysseus, a victim of both, btw. 👍

[winnisblur]

“Cracks In Our Hearts.”

pairing ❤︎‬: gender neutral reader x sunghoon. w.c ‪‪❤︎‬: 4.5 - 5k (it’s word vomit at its finest) synopsis ‪‪❤︎‬: you’re a player in squid game, and thanks to a certain square guard, you’ve managed to survive (and get fucked).

this fic includes ‪‪❤︎‬: smut so mdni, death(s?), blood, sunghoon is a guard and is hot with a mask and pistol, he’s also cold(i think that’s the word), reader just trying to survive, ends up dying tho lol, bathroom sex, choking, pain and gun kink, degradation, sunghoon is actually a jerk beneath the mask, so is reader, unprotected sex, readers skin colour nor private parts are mentioned and etc.

warnings ‪‪❤︎‬: english isn’t my first language, not really proofread so srry about that, and i’m nervous af cus this is my first time writing T-T, this is based off of s1 so spoilers ahead (for those who haven’t watched both seasons”.

…..I shouldn't have survived the first game.

The thought clings to me like a stain as I sit cross-legged on the cold gray floor of the dormitory. Around me, everyone's faces wear that same haunted look-eyes sunken, shoulders hunched-but it does nothing to erase this truth: I'm still here, and a hundred others aren't.

My hands shake as I clutch the bottle of water they gave us, the only comfort in this nightmare. “Red Light, Green Light” was supposed to be simple. A childish game, nothing more. But then, when the first shot went off, the simplicity was in pieces. I kept my head down, my steps calculated. An act of luck rather than any skill saved me. Halfway, my legs had locked, but the chaos around saved me. I was too scared even to breathe, let alone blink while that giant, doll-like machine scanned the field. The screams. The silence. They cling to me as much as the relief of being alive.

But that leaves me with just one question: how long will I last?

Dalgona Game

As the guards herd us into the grounds, that feeling of luck is not there.

The sun knocks heavily upon the earthy ground, and a whispering wave curls through the players. In front of us stood a table piled high with tins, each containing the next nightmare: “Dalgona candy.” The guard with the square mask appears to be in charge; he steps forward. His voice rumbles from behind his mask. "You will each choose a tin. Inside is a shape. Your task is to extract the shape from the candy without breaking it. You will have ten minutes."

That's it? A shape?

But then I look at the examples on the display-circle, triangle, star…and an umbrella. My stomach does a flip. Not just precision, but luck too. A wrongly picked tin means my death. The queue moved fast; shaking hands reached for tins, people picking as if their lives depended on it. Because they do.

When it's my turn, I force myself to breathe and reach for the one closest to me. The metal feels cool and heavy in my hands. I don't even open it right away, afraid to see what fate I've chosen. Finally, I lift the lid.

The umbrella stares back at me.

"Great," I mutter under my breath. I look around, and there are a few groaning in despair as they unveil their shapes. Most got stars or circles—luckies. The timer starts, and the courtyard almost becomes a battlefield of concentration. People start licking their candies, tapping needles at them, and quite a few try to bite them. I take the given needle and gently press it against the candy. The sound of cracking candy nearby makes my heart run. I start shaking and tracing the thin, delicate lines of the umbrella. "Steady," I say to myself. Halfway through, it happened.

Snap.

The handle of the umbrella broke off clean. My blood ran cold.

It was over.

Instantly, my head jerks up to find the nearest guard. They are already converging on other players who busted their candies. I heard shots ring out and immediately froze. That is when I see him.

One of the square-guards, taller than the others, stops a few feet away. I cannot see his face, yet there is something different in the way he looks at me. His head tilts slightly, studying me, and for that one fleeting instant, the noise falls away. Then he takes another step closer.

"No," I whisper. Shivering, my heartbeat surges as I hold the shattered candy tightly against my body, to hide it from view. But instead of brandishing his weapon, he leans in and whispers, "Pretend you're still working." I stare up at him, appalled. "Do it," he says sharply in a low voice, and I automatically comply. I push the broken pieces together, my hands shaking so severely it's a wonder they don't break into a hundred more pieces. The guard-he-stands close enough that I can sense his presence. He occasionally looks around, subtly blocking the other guards' view of me. “Why?" I dare to whisper. He says nothing.

Minutes tick by-although by some miracle, no one notices my snapped candy. When the buzzer goes off, I hold my breath for the worst to happen. Instead, the square-guard advances, feigning that he's inspecting the other players. Somehow, I get away.

The dormitory is noisier tonight. Some are cheering, others crying, but I do not think of anything besides him. Why did he save me? Was this some sort of mistake? A test? My head runs with the different connotations, but no sensible fact makes sense. Guards are not supposed to show mercy.

When the lights dim for night, I am awake. I play that moment in my head over and over-the quiet authority in his voice, the way he lingered just long enough to save me. There's just no getting answers, yet I couldn't help my mind from running over and over with thoughts of him.

Sunghoon’s POV

This was reckless.

I lean against the wall of the guard quarters, helmet in my hands, and let my breath out slowly. My heart hasn't stopped racing since I saw them-their trembling hands, the way they froze when their candy broke. I should've ignored it. I should've done my job. But something about the way their eyes widened, filled with fear and determination, stopped me. I don't know why I helped them. It wasn't out of pity. It wasn't out of guilt.

It was them.

I have seen hundreds of players, most of them desperate enough or selfish enough to catch nothing but their own survival. But they're different. I shouldn't be feeling this way. Guards aren't supposed to feel anything. Yet every time I think about their face, my resolve cracks just that little bit more.

If anyone finds out, I'm as good as dead.

But somehow, I just can't seem to care. Tomorrow's another game, another chance to see them. I just hope I can keep my distance.

For both our sakes.

The Next Day

I wake up to this gnawing feeling in my chest. It isn't the ache in my limbs or the exhaustion of staying up all night, reliving the events of the Dalgona game in my head; it's the dread of what comes next.

Another game, another chance to die.

They walk us to the next arena as effectively, coldly, with all the same efficiency of people used to doing a day's labor. My head was down, letting myself just become part of a whole, not standing out too much. The cold-faced, geometric-mask-covered guard statues line the wall opposite. My eyes fly toward each square mask.

Grievously stupid. Insane even-but what did it matter? Had he watched me just then? Was he going to try to save me?

A small part of me wants him to, but the larger part is reminding me of one crucial thing: here, I am on my own. Completely and utterly. Not even him.

Sunghoon’s POV

There they are.

Perched atop the arena above, my eyes find them in a heartbeat. They scan the guards again, their shoulders tense, eyes keen despite the exhaustion clinging to every player out there. I shouldn't watch them. Shouldn't give a damn.

Yet I can't peel my eyes away, though. Still alive, that's what matters.

My grip tightens on the rifle in my hands as the Robotic Female’s voice booms across the arena, announcing the rules for today’s game. I already know what’s coming. Another trial, another bloody mess.

And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure they survive. Even if it means breaking every rule I’ve sworn to follow.

The Tug-of-War Twist

We are brought to a very large outdoors arena, with several platforms towering up to the sky. Ropes traverse atop thick, and beneath these? A fall so long I could hardly see the bottom.

Tug-of-war.

The explanation is simple: teams of ten; whoever wins lives. Losers. well, the fall does the talking. I'm pushed towards a group, and panic bursts in my chest as I realize the dynamics are uneven. None of them appear to be very strong. A few even shake so hard that I don't think they can hold the rope.

This is bad.

The guards line the edges, rifles in place to take out anyone showing even a millisecond of hesitation. My eyes flicker to them out of instinct, and there he is-square guard. His posture is stiff, but his helmet angles toward me as I step on the platform. Is he looking at me?

The thought's cut off by a buzz. And with that, the first match begins. I am horrified as the opposing team pulls with ruthless precision. Losing is being dragged, inch by inch, toward the edge. Their screams echo when the rope jerks once more, sending them plunging into the void.

This isn't just about strength. It's strategy.

When it's our turn, I reach for the rope, my palms already slick with sweat. My team looks hopeless, all whispering prayers and clutching at whatever scraps of courage they can muster. The opposing team, however, is all muscle.

"Pull!" someone yells as the buzzer sounds, and I dig my heels into the platform. The rope's abraded heat against my palms sears the skin as we're yanked forward. Arms scream, legs wobble-it feels like we are seconds away from catastrophe. "Lean back! Use your weight!" someone yells, but it's futile. We're losing so much ground. That's when I saw him.

The square-guard stood near the edge, his head cocked as he watched me. For what feels like an eternity he doesn't move, before finally he moves a step closer and leans on his rifle at his shoulder. I'm stuck until his hand moves after all, and it does really slowly.

It was the signal.

I watch transfixed as his gloved hand takes direction toward the other guys on the opposition side of this platform, then he tap-dances his foot quickly yet small - almost in a blur-close around anchor point holding their ropes steady. My eyes widen.

Is he telling me their side is rigged?

I have no time to think. I lean back with all my strength and yell to my team, "Pull to the left! They're off balance!" The others hesitate but follow my lead, shifting our weight. The opposing team stumbles, losing their footing, and in the chaos, I catch something flicker in the corner of my vision-a quick, subtle motion from his side.

The anchor point snaps.

The opposing team barely has time to act before they're pulled forward, screaming as they tumble into the abyss. We collapse onto the platform, gasping for air. Relief washes through me, tainted with disbelief.

I should be dead.

I glance toward him again but he's already gone, sucked back into the sea of guards. Tonight, I cannot get him out of my mind. The square-guard. The one who has saved me over and over again. No one else is paying any attention to anything but celebration or mourning as I slip into the shadows near the edge of the dormitory. The guards patrol the perimeter, their masks gleaming under the dim lights. And then I see him.

He leans against the wall, a little apart from the others. As I approach him, my heart pounds, and every step sounds louder than it should. "What are you doing?" I whisper. His head snaps toward me, and for a second, I think I have made a mistake. But then he steps forward, his voice low and sharp. "You shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you," I shoot back, emboldened by adrenaline. "You've been helping me. Why?” He hesitates, glancing around before tugging me further into the darkness. "You shouldn't ask questions you don't want answers to," he says. "I think I deserve an answer," I say, crossing my arms over my chest despite the tremble in my hands. "You've saved my life twice. Don't act like that's normal." For a moment, he says nothing. Then, with a sigh, he lifts his mask just enough for me to see his face.

He's younger than I expected. Sharp jawline, intense eyes that seem to pierce right through me. "You stood out," he admits, his voice softer now. "Most people here…they're just trying to survive. But you-" He catches himself, as if he's said too much. "But what?" I press.

“You fight," he says so simply. "Even when you're scared. Even when you shouldn't." The words dangle in the air, between us like a challenge. Heavy, electric. "I don't know why I do these things," he continues more irritably. "But if you wanna stay alive, don't trust me. Don't trust no one." His words shouldn't assure me, and yet suddenly, for the first time since I have been here, I do feel one thing: hope.

"Thanks," I say under my breath. He doesn't answer, but pulls his mask back down and steps away, leaving me in the shadows.

I trudge up the stairs, the fluorescent lights above me flickering with every labored step my legs take. It was mountainous, but I had survived another game, another step closer to whatever hellish end this place had in store. The other players say nothing. Their faces are hollow, their skin pale. No one dares speak anymore. Silence is safer.

I stop on the last step as a guard blocks my path. Square mask. My heart catches. "What's this?" I say, sharper than I mean to. Exhaustion has sucked any tolerance from me. "You're flagged," he says bluntly. "There's suspicion you might be carrying something you shouldn't be. You'll have to be searched." My blood turns cold. Suspicion? Prohibited? “That's crazy," I say, my panic rising into my chest. "I don't have anything-"

"Follow me." There's no request about it. The other players glance my way, their eyes wide and wary, but they don't get involved. They're too frightened to risk drawing attention to themselves. I hesitate, my mind racing. If this is a setup, if they think I've broken a rule, this could be it. This could be my end.

But I have no choice. Taking a deep breath, I follow the guard down a dimly lit corridor and into a bathroom. The sound of the door locking behind me makes me shiver. “Turn around," the guard instructs in a cold, emotionless voice. I do so, my heart racing. "Look," I begin, "I don't know what you think I've done, but-"

"Stop talking.” It cuts through my protest, and there's something about it-something familiar. I turn to face them, my brow furrowing. “What is this?" I ask. "Who are you?" For a moment, they don't respond. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, the guard lifts their mask. My breath catches.

It's him.

The square-guard who's been helping me. The one I thought was gone, fired, or worse-killed for breaking the rules. "You-" I stutter, my voice barely above a whisper. "I had to see you," he says, his voice soft, yet urgent. "I couldn't stay away any longer." I blink, trying to process the rush of emotions-relief, confusion, anger. "I thought you were-what happened to you? Why did you stop-" "I had to lay low," he interrupts. "They were watching me. But I'm still here. I don't know what to say. My mind is racing, torn between gratitude and frustration. “Why did you bring me here?" I ask finally.

His eyes lock with mine, intense and unyielding. “Because I couldn't take it anymore," he says, his voice low, stepping closer. "Watching you risk your life, knowing I couldn't do anything to stop it-it's been driving me insane." I swallow hard, my heart racing as he closes the gap between us. "You shouldn't be doing this," I whisper. "If they find out—"

"I don't care," he says with finality. "I've already broken the rules for you. What's one more?" And before I can say another word, his hands frame my face, and he kisses me. It's not soft or tentative-it's desperate, raw, like he's pouring every ounce of fear and longing into the moment. I'm stuck in a freeze-frame moment for a second, mind whipping. Then I yield and cling to his uniform while kissing him back with every ounce of fierce intensity of my own. The world falls away, and I feel something other than fear for the first time since this nightmare kicked off.

But not for long.

He pulls away, forehead resting against mine, hard breaths mingling between our lips. "I can't protect you anymore," he says, his voice cracking. "Not with what's coming." I search his face, my chest tightening at the pain in his eyes. "You've already done more than enough," I whisper. He shakes his head. "It's not enough. It'll never be enough."

A heavy silence falls between us, and I know this is goodbye. Expect it wasn’t actually, his lips captured mine again, his lips….almost saying they wanted me, needed me. That is until he broke the kiss again, and pinned my back against the cold, colorful tiled wall of the bathroom. His body language seemed like he has longed for the dramatic (sort of) crash of holding me against the wall, kissing me like he was dreaming about this every single minute of the day.

He winced as my nails raked across his back through his pink suit, he probably felt like his outfit was being torn by my nails, which could get us both in trouble if that was actually to happen. He winced again as he took ahold of my wrists and slammed them to the wall in retaliation, wedging his knee between my thighs, which made a gasp leave my lips at the slightest bit of friction I was getting from his thigh.

“Didn’t know you were this desperate for me,” he teased after breaking the heated kiss for the nth time, leaving him and me breathless, panting with saliva connecting us. His low chuckle echoed through the empty, now suffocating bathroom, and making his vampire teeth pop out. “it’s laughable, really. Does the games make you horny?” he teased yet again, raising his thick eyebrows in a way that seemed mockingly, his thigh moving back and forth slightly, earning a whine from my lips as he chuckled like he was enjoying me being teased. “Does your life being on the line make you horny? You sadist bit-“ Pain blistered across Sunghoon’s cheek, he couldn’t help but grin as it sent shockwaves of sensation tearing across his body. Adrenaline hummed through his veins as he hungrily kissed me again, choking me with his gloved hands. I thrashed, ripping at the back of his head by a fistful of hair and biting down hard on his lower lip. Both of our lips were bleeding now, but the metallic tang only made him deepen the kiss even more, greedily trying to taste much of it as possible, masochist much?

“Fucking slut,” He hissed, licking blood and spit from my chin. “You’re a cunt and a dick, a motherfucking cunt and dick sucker.” I hissed back, he chuckled. He fucking chuckled this was all a fucking a circus show for him. “Damn right,” he teased. “But only good girls or boys get their cunts and dicks sucked by me, which isn’t you unfortunately.” he grinned, his hips rolling against my privates, yet again another chuckle slipped from his lips like he enjoyed watching me being frustrated sexually, and I could confirm it just by looking at his eyes that had a glint, a glint of giddiness everytime pain was inflicted upon me.

I hooked my foot behind his knee, forcibly collapsing it. First, he tries making me shit in my pants from coming out of nowhere and telling me that I had to be pat down, makeouts with me, choked me and almost knocked out all of the air in me, calls me names and now his hand is reaching up to my knee to bring me down with him…great. He smirked as he yanked me down onto him, flipping me onto my back and pinning me to the cold floor now instead. He gave just one slow, merciless grind of his hips against mine, and I’m only just realising but…he’s fucking big.

“Who said that…I want you to fucking suck me off or eat me out?” I bit out, nursing my injured lip to keep from moaning as he set out a torturously slow pace through our clothes. “It seems pretty eager to me,” Sunghoon teased, gloved fingertips dipping beneath the waistband of my pants. “I bet I could make you cum in- shit-!” His head smacked harder against the tiles than it should have as I tossed him onto his back, thighs clenched tightly around his hips. The throbbing pain only added to the throbbing pleasure as I rolled my hips. “Just who do you think fucking I am? Just- fuck- just because I’m trying to survive and win doesn’t mean I’m gonna be your fucking bitch.” Sunghoon grinned up at me, I was already flushed bright red and riding his hips with rough, desperate japs of my hips. “Big talk for someone who’s riding me like their life depends on it, ironically.” he snickers. “I can feel you, asshole. You’re in the same situation as I am!” Sunghoon smirked, and in one quick move, he snatched my wrist and rocketed back to his feet, spinning me back around and leaving me face-first against the wall. “You might not be able to kill people like me, and neither I could survive the games you’re playing but god…you’re right, I do want you.” I shuddered at his deep voice. I shifted, legs spreading to support myself better and Sunghoon slotted his knee right between them once more, hands settling on my waist as I got my one free hand between me and the wall, trying to push and give myself some space. I only succeeded in pushing our bodies closer than before, his cock nestled firmly against my ass.

“Let me have you,” Sunghoon purred, squeezing my waist and slowly moving up my sides the way that turned me into putty. I moaned, shuddering again. “Fuck you! If you want me so badly, then come and take it, take me!” well, that is an invitation that Sunghoon hasn’t heard before, even before doing this whole crazy guard thing at a unknown island. He growled, jerking my pants down in a hurry, like he actually couldn’t believe that his dreams are about to come true. I threw my elbow back, but Sunghoon just pinned my wrist back to the wall. “Stop being a fucking brat,” he hissed. I struggled and choking back a moan, feeling the material of his pink suit against my bare ass. “Get your shitty ass outfit outta the way,” I demanded. “Shit feels like sandpaper!” I hissed. “So sensitive and demanding,” he cooed, even as he let me have both hands back to brace myself against the wall. Sunghoon didn’t dare to move back and give me an opening to escape, only reaching up to unzip his suit and free himself, mostly his cock that was strained against the fabric and begging for friction as it twitched in his underwear. I adjusted, leaning away long enough for Sunghoon to free himself. “If you were me, you’d complain too!” I hissed. “Yeah, yeah, stop running your big mouth. You want it or not?” he rolled his eyes, his suit and underwear failing to his ankles as he leaned forward, completely trapping me between him and the cold wall, his bare cock resting just on my ass, just right where I needed him, so far yet so close. “I told you you fucking idiot, just take it-“ Sunghoon couldn’t help but thrust all of his cock in one go. Making me moan out loud at the blissful pain from the thrust.

For Sunghoon, you were a wet dream come true to life; Sunghoon’s cock glided through you without resistance, soft and slick, tightening only as he rutted against a known sweet spot along your walls. I moaned, arching my back, wrapping tightly around him. He groaned in response, leaning over me, his hands covering mine, fingers almost interlocked. The sweat on my neck left a layer of salt on Sunghoon’s tongue, but beneath it was nothing but you. Sunghoon muffled his own moans against my throat, sucking and biting his way down to my shoulders. I turned my head, covering my mouth with the inside of my elbow as he fucked me against the wall. Sunghoon hiked me up onto my tiptoes, leaning back to appreciate the view, your skin glistened with sweat under the fluorescent lights. “…Please, I’m close da- fuck-!” your words and moans rang loud in his ears, in the bathroom, the silence sharpening your cries. They acted as pokers to the hot coals of fire in the pit of Sunghoon’s stomach, making him embarrassed over how loud you were, neither was the wet and loud sound of skin smacking was making it any better. If any of his fellow guards were outside or just a tad bit close to the bathroom, he’s fucked and killed to death alongside with you.

That is when Sunghoon got an idea, an idea that satisfies his other personality, the one that was created whilst being here for a very long time that he has lost sense of time, and that is fear. He lives off of the idea of goosebumps appearing on the player’s skins just before he kills them, and in this case, while he’s fucking them and practically making them cock-drunk from his stroke game. Sunghoon leaned down and grabbed his long forgotten, abandoned pistol on the floor, aiming the barrel at your forehead, and with that his thrusts became harder, sloppier but you…you were terrified. Terrified on why there’s a gun to your head suddenly, is he going to kill you after using you like a worthless, lifeless sexdoll? Is that what’s going to happen? You couldn’t lie to yourself because the thought kinda turned you on and made you wetter even more, because you wouldn’t mind being his sexdoll if his cock was constantly inside you and making you go brainless. “Stop moaning like a whore unless you want me to pull the trigger right now, and kill you before they find us.” he threatened lowly in my ear, licking and bitting as he tried to muffle his own sounds. By now, you knew you looked pathetic with your eyes red, red and snotty nose as tears stained and wet your flushed cheeks as you began to bite onto your ragged and bloody jacket, trying to keep quiet because as much as it turned you on at the thought of dying on his dick, but you valued your life at the moment because, living longer equals bouncing on his dick for even more before you die.

Sunghoon barely managed to pull out on time, painting his pleasure all over your ass. He grinned at the realisation that you were still haven’t even came yet, still hanging on the edge as he lowered his pistol and patted his gloved hand on your ass, watching it jiggle with the motion of his hand, giggling to himself as he brought his head up and was met with the sight of you, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed at him. “Get your own self off, brat.” he teased, putting on his suit back and mask, giving you one last cocky glance before he makes sure he looks presentable in the mirror and walks out on you, leaving you frustrated at him, at not being pleasured enough, at the games, and yourself because behind his handsome looks, he’s actually just like the other guards, ruthless and cold.

The Final Game

The days blur all together.

The games are getting more brutal, and the players, myself included, are growing desperate. Every moment feels like a race against time, against fate. The tension among the remaining participants is palpable. We’ve all become numbers now, not people—just pawns in a game that doesn’t care about our lives. The final game is announced, and my heart skips a beat.

It's the one everybody's afraid of: the glass bridge.

We line up in a row, one behind the other, in front of the two routes laid out before us, each comprising several glass panels, some strong and some weak. We had to walk over them and choose appropriate ones to cross or plunge to death. A shiver runs down my spine as the first few players go up front, and what happened was inevitable. One after another, they fall. Screams pierce the cold air, but clear had been the instruction from the guard that no one was to move unless his turn came upon him. Just as I'm about to take my first step, I suddenly feel. something.

It's him.

The square-guard above watches on, his eyes tracking my every movement, and for a split second, our gazes meet. The connection is brief, but it's enough. I don't know what to make of it, but something in the way he watches me is different. There's something in his eyes-something almost…regretful.

It's my turn.

I step onto the bridge, my legs trembling as creaks come from within the glass as my body weight presses down upon it. The first few steps are just fine. My luck has to turn sometime. The crack starts to give under me and I freeze. I looked back, and that is when I see it-something shifting in Sunghoon's posture. Moving.

Too late.

Balance is lost.

I heard him scream my name-my real name, not a number-and did not care. I fell. This was a never-ending fall. The world spun and the only thing I was aware of was air rushing in as I dropped with the pretty firm knowledge I'd not live to cry out.

And then, there was nothing.

Sunghoon's POV

The world is silent.

I stand in stock-stillness, my heartbeat the only sound of the drumbeat as their body disappears into the void below, and with every shattered piece of me. I should have. I should have—

My fist slams against the metal wall. Its echo rings out into that space. Why didn't I act sooner? Why couldn't I pull them back? Why couldn't I protect?

I close my eyes, the guilt suffocating me. This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to feel this way. But here I am, crushed under the weight of it, the weight of my failure. I should never have gotten involved. I should never have helped them.

But I couldn't stop myself.

And now…

I failed.

I failed them.

The game goes on, but Sunghoon's mind is a maelstrom.

The rest of the players are like shadows, their faces hollow with fear and exhaustion. To Sunghoon, however, time has stopped. He stares at the rest of the players, his eyes searching among them for any sign of the one he couldn't protect. Every step weighs too much to be taken. Every decision he makes feels like a mistake. And when the final buzzer goes off, he barely hears it.

It's the end of the day now, and it doesn't matter anymore.

The only thing filling Sunghoon's head is the weight of his own guilt. The others are rejoicing, but his mind is consumed by you-your face, your eyes, and the time you spent together. He had never gotten the chance to say goodbye.

And he never will.

[johnwickb1tsch]

Okay but what if John x Y/N x Helen?

It's not a request, by the way. I just wanted to know your thoughts ❤️

My thoughts? I'm here for it @hollywoodshell . 😂

But that's such an interesting idea! And maybe tricky too! It's really hard to imagine someone catching John's eye while he's married to Helen though. You'd almost have to have a relationship with Helen BEFORE John, lol. Like...

-What iffff you shared an apartment with Helen? We know she was a photographer. Maybe you're an artist too. You're really good friends, you always just *clicked*. Sometimes you're more than friends too...🤭

-You're probably attracted to Helen for the same reasons John is. She's so kind and creative and such a light in the dark. You're poor AF but you still bring her daisies from the street stalls when you find them, just to see her smile.

-You meet John...when someone tries to steal Helen's camera and he stops them? Or Helen really wanted shots of this cool rundown building on the waterfront to complete a series, and you refuse to let her go alone, and it just happens to be a stash house for Viggo's enterprises, and John saves you from something bad happening?

-He'd be equal parts exasperated and amused. Who are these idiots? How do they not know where they are? Helen invites him over, because she's nice like that. And he's so enchanted he accepts, obviously, out of politeness and he feels like he’s been hit by a truck by the sparkle in her eye. You on the other hand are equal parts insanely attracted to this man and thinking you both might be about to get murdered. 😆

-You make dinner or order takeout. Your apartment is a bohemian mess/nest of your mutual artwork and plants and bric-a-brac you thrifted. You eat and talk and pour drinks, and John is kind of overwhelmed by the warmth in your little space. He is not used to people like Helen and you. You are not of his world. You see that this big man with the fathomless black eyes seems scary but he’s actually pretty sweet deep down, if not quiet. 

-Does Helen make the first move on John? I kind of feel like she does. She is cosmically attracted to this man. You see it happening right before you. You’re a little jealous–of John, not Helen–but maybe also resigned. It’s not like you’re going to stand in the way, if this is what she wants. You love her too much for that petty shit. 

-She knocks your socks off when she includes you, kissing you and John in turn. You exchange a look over her with this man. Maybe a moment of silent understanding. It feels like he is very careful with both of you, like his large hands are capable of terrible things if he does not watch himself closely. 

-Maybe this isn’t the first threesome you’ve had with Helen, but as you fall asleep cuddled together with John you feel like something momentous has happened. The earth has shifted, just a little. Nothing will be the same. You’re not sure if you like it. 

-You’re both surprised when John makes breakfast for the two of you. You wake up (waaay too early) to wonderful smells coming from the kitchen. You wonder if you’ll ever see him again, when he parts with a sweet kiss for both of you, and that sad look in his beautiful dark eyes. 

-Yet, when he shows up at your door with flowers for both of you a week later, that uncertain tightness in your chest relaxes a little. Maybe this thing could be something good for all of you? Maybe it’s worth a shot…

[catsukiiee]

I like that your version of Hispanic Sero isn't a druggie 😭 Can you write more of him? Both of them being equally toxic if you can

YES MA'AM! 😋

# NO CHILL. | SITUATIONSHIP SERIES.

౨ৎ sero hanta x fem!reader

start reading the messages from left to right!

"K" is the start of the first messages

writing the texts had me giggling so much, the way i gagged myself writing sero's response

wordcount ; 1k

paragraphs ; 54

sentences ; 94

songs used.

main song ; no chill by partynextdoor.

beginning of car ride scene ; jaded by drake

car scenes ; ballin' by partynextdoor

in this au there is no quirks.

sero is nineteen instead of his canon age of 24.

he's 6'1 instead of his canon height.

sero is hispanic & japanese

he's not obsessed with drugs or goes around selling drugs because i'm tired of that borderline racist stereotype! he's a hard working mf with a good apartment and a car 🗣️ but yes he does smoke weed here and there like any other person that smokes weed here and there ���‍♂️

content ; smut with plot, fingerfucking, car sex, messy situationship (both of you are TOXIC AF.)

reader and sero aren't in a official relationship, this is more of a messy situationship between them and possibly bakugo if i decide to make this into a series because making the texts is so fun y'all 💀

"This fucking asshole." You sat at the bar, glaring at your phone before shutting it off and slamming it down on the counter screen first.

Why was he being so wishy-washy? Everything was cool, then he goes off to hang with some girl you’d never even seen before. Just thinking about that picture Mina sent made your blood boil.

"What’s up with your face?" Bakugo grunted, leaning on the bar with his elbows, looking as grumpy as ever. "Nothing." You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. Yep, a headache was definitely coming in.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Wait, is he serious?

You opened your eyes slowly and looked at Bakugo, your surprise clear as he rolled his eyes, his frown deepening. "Something’s bothering you, so spill it,"

Wow, he’s actually serious.

You couldn’t help but smile a little, leaning in closer as you watched him check you out, staying exactly where he stood, leaving just a bit of space between you two. "Is Katsuki Bakugo actually offering an ear?"

He scoffed and turned away, leaning back against the bar with his drink, obviously trying to act like he doesn't care. "Forget it."

Cute.

"Bakugo." You grabbed his arm and slid off your seat to stand in front of him. The height difference had you craning your neck to meet his gaze. "What." He huffed, his eyes lingering on your chest for a second before he looked away.

You were about to tease him, your hand sliding up his arm to squeeze his bicep, but then you noticed the annoyed look in his red eyes, directed at someone behind you.

"This bastard, why does he always have to show up?" Bakugo grumbled, lifting his drink to his lips, still glaring at whoever was behind you over the rim of his glass.

You didn’t even need to turn around to know who he was talking about.

"He can’t be serious right now." You sighed, letting go of Bakugo’s arm as you turned to face Sero, who was striding toward you with the same annoyed expression as Bakugo, dark eyes glued on the ash-blonde, like you weren't standing there at all. You could feel the tension between the two of them even before he reached you two.

"You." Sero ignored Bakugo completely and grabbed your arm. "We’re leaving, thanks for keeping her company." He shot Bakugo a fake smile and pulled you closer. All you heard was a scoff and the sound of a glass being slammed down on the bar, followed by a sudden heat on your back as Bakugo grabbed your other arm. "Stop acting like you're in charge of her, it's fucking annoying."

Ah shit.

Neither of them said another word; they just glared at each other over your head, their grips on your arms tightening a bit. You could feel the stares from some other clubgoers who were sober enough to realize something was going on.

"Okay, that’s enough, I’m done. Take me home." You yanked your arms free from both of them and stormed past, bumping your shoulder into Sero’s arm.

The chilly air outside hit your warm skin just as Sero called your name again, the muffled club music blaring for a second before the doors closed behind him, the gravel crunching under your heels and his shoes as he rushed after you.

The silence between you and Sero didn’t last long. He was right on your ass in no time. “Are you serious? Going out with Bakugo and his crew? To a club?”

His crew? Since when did he have problems with Mina, Kaminari, and Kirishima?

“Don’t even start, Sero. I really don’t want to hear it.” You shot back, spinning around so fast you almost bumped into him. “You do this all the time! We hang out, hook up, and then you run off to mess around with some other girl.”

You were practically nose to nose, both of you in each other’s space. “I didn’t hook up with her, so why are you acting like I did? I bet you were planning to fuck Bakugo just because of those dumb fucking assumptions that you love to leap to all the time.”

Oh, this bitch.

“I can’t deal with this right now. Just drive me home.” You turned away and headed for his car. “Whatever,” he muttered, falling silent.

The walk to the car was quiet, Sero opened the door for you, setting your purse and jacket at your feet then closed your door before getting in the driver’s seat. Even when he was mad, he was still a gentleman to you.

Still doesn't excuse his bullshit..

Neither of you said a word as the car started up and he pulled out of the parking spot, “Jaded” by Drake filling the silence, the city lights blurring by. But of course, Sero had to break the quiet. “Were you going to fuck Bakugo?”

"Oh my fucking God. Not now Sero."

“That pretty much answers it then, sorry to cockblock.” He scoffed, the car starting to pick up in speed.

You shot him a look like he was crazy—because he fucking was. “Can you just drive me home without pissing me off? Holy shit.”

Your outburst had him gripping the steering wheel tight, his jaw clenching and unclenching. “Okay.” He finally said, the car going silent once again, then right his hand slid off the wheel to rest on your thigh, something he always did when he drove you two around. You were far too pissed off for his shit though. Just as you were about to push his hand away, his fingers slipped right between your thighs, making your dress ride up in the process.

“Sero. I'm seriously not in the mood for this, sex won't fix that I'm pissed with you.” You warned, grabbing his wrist before he could go any further. “Okay.” He replied, his face and voice completely calm.

Silence from both of you.

You couldn’t think straight with his fingers rubbing slow circles so close to where you really wanted him. The smirk on his face told you he knew exactly what he was doing.

This smug rat.

“¿Por qué dijiste mi nombre, cariño?” His fingers moved your panties aside as soon as you spread your legs, and the soft gasps escaping you only made his grin wider. “Habla, princesa.”

translation ;

"¿Por qué dijiste mi nombre, cariño?" = "Why did you say my name, baby?"

"Habla princesa." = "Speak princess."

You turned your head away, biting your knuckles to keep quiet, focusing on the flashing city lights. Sero was quiet again, sliding two fingers deep inside you, making your back arch off the seat, the seatbelt holding you back just a bit.

“Sero…” You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand while your other hand grabbed at his wrists as he started pumping his fingers in and out at a slow pace, going knuckles deep each time his digits sunk back in, the wet squelches each time had you blushing and Sero chuckling softly.

The slow pace he had going didn’t last for long, impatient as ever to hear you get louder. Before you knew it, his fingers were hitting you hard, each thrust making your thighs shake. Your grip on his wrist was abandoned in a instant, moving to grab onto the back of your thighs to keep your left leg apart. “Fuck. Fuck. Oh Fuck,” you moaned out, breathless, the last “Fuck” turning into a high-pitched whimper.

Sero's driving was getting a little messy, sometimes speeding up out of nowhere, making you both jerk when he quickly slowed down. With one hand fingerfucking the soul from your body, he was a bit distracted, and the growing tightness in his jeans wasn’t helping either. “Fuck this, I’m pulling over.” He found a dark spot under the freeway bridge in no time, driving recklessly the whole way.

Once the car was parked and the lights were low, he had you both in the backseat. His hands were all over you, roughly grabbing at the small of your back, your hips and waist, and your ass, and your hands were tangled in his hair. He kissed you like he didn't have you hours ago. Your breathy moans being met with his and a wide grin.

Sero was the type who didn’t hold back on the moans, matching your sounds with his own. Hearing him moan with no shame drove you wild, and he knew it.

“Hold on, cariño, let me help you.” He chuckled against your lips as your hands fumbled with his belt and zipper. The kiss temporarily forgotten as you both leaned back, working together to unbutton his pants and push them down to his ankles, boxers included.

translation ; "cariño" = "babe" "baby" or "sweetheart"

“Estas tan mojado, quien te mojó así, ¿eh?” He groaned into your neck, biting down on your collarbone hard enough to leave a mark while his hands grabbed at your ass. When you didn’t answer, he smacked your ass hard, making you jolt forward and tug at his hair with a whine. “You did,” you moaned, leaning down to kiss him again, both of you groaning into each other’s mouths as he lowered you onto his dick with ease. "Uh huh, I did that."

translation ; "Estas tan mojado, quien te mojó así, ¿eh?" = (roughly) "You're so wet, who got you this wet, huh?"

Holding onto the backseat, you started off slow, moving in little circles on his dick, your faces just inches apart, your breaths mingling. He had one hand on your ass, guiding you, while the other cupped the back of your neck, keeping your eyes locked.

But just like him, your patience was short, switching between grinding and bouncing on his dick, your moans rising, making him grip your neck tighter. "Ahí está, mi pequeño bebé, si tan solo supieras cómo comportarte," he groaned, lifting his hips to meet your bounces. "Nuh uh, baby. Keep those eyes on me."

translation ; "Ahí está, mi pequeño bebé, si tan solo supieras cómo comportarte." = "There she is, my little baby, if only you knew how to fucking behave."

Your moans almost sounded like a growl, fully bouncing on him now, his grip on your neck loosening until he moved both hands to your ass, helping you along as the car started to rock with your movements. "I hate you," you moaned out, the moan ending in a sharp gasp, sliding one hand off the seat to grab his throat. Sero grinned at that, giving your both your ass cheeks a couple of harsh smacks before he started pounding up into you, his hands grabbing at your hips to keep you pressed down on him, making you both moan loudly into each other's mouth. "Oh yeah?" he chuckled, breathless. "Show me how much you hate me then."

None of y'all understand how unhinged I am about Hispanic men 🌚 half the time they ain't shit but goddamn do I love those mfs. As much as I love them and messy shit, may this type of love NEVER find me ever again 😭🙏 y'all stay safe though!

If I were to make this a Sero series it would be called "The Situationship Series" and yes I would make it a messy love triangle between you, Sero, and Bakugo 😋 There is no happy ending! You just get two hot dudes fighting over, your feelings played with, and your back blown out by both of them on multiple occasions!

And if anyone is looking for updates on the Iida fic, y'all are gonna have to wait a bit longer 😭...

[destinylaurier]

The Alchemy

a/n: thank you for choosing this to read! this is my first post on tumblr, and i'm excited to share this with you! as someone who likes to read, i just couldn't find enough stories about my man here, and i'd like to share what i had in mind if you'll let me. i really hope you enjoy reading this, because it is long af, and it's been in the drafts for several days now!!

summary : there's no such place like home. and for you, home, meant san diego. top gun has called upon the top pilots their programme has ever produced, and that includes you. but it also includes him. the one that got away. you never took it across the line, but it had always felt like more. it had always been push and pull with the two of you, and you could curse the universe for reuniting you. but would you, really?

pairing : bradley bradshaw x f!reader (callsign : karma)

warnings : alcohol use, inaccurate navy references, just some good old fluff.

word count : 3.6k words

North Island, San Diego.

Top Gun.

Home.

It held many memories. Too many. And you were sure it would weigh down on you as you walk through the doors of the Hard Deck.

There was no doubt that's where everyone would be headed the eve before the first day of training, just to cool off before they'd be stressed out by the mission parameters first thing in the goddamn morning, you were sure.

You'd taken a shower, and slipped on a figure-hugging pair of denims, a white tee, and your branded hand-me-down brown leather jacket that had those beige ruffles you liked so much.

Making sure your black Bronco was locked, you turn towards the doors of the Hard Deck in front of you. Behind you, the sun was glaring with a beautiful mix of orange and yellow, a warm contrast to the still bright blue sky.

The Hard Deck was a constant in your life, at least four years ago. Games were played, songs were sung, drinks had been drank. And there had almost been… never mind.

Okay, maybe you'd been standing outside for way too long, and it was a form of stalling.

It is.

Huffing out a quick breath, your head jerks to the side as you place your hands on the handles, pushing inwards. The bell rings, and it seems to announce your arrival to pretty much every person in the bar, most of them turning to you mid-conversation or just out of interest.

Here goes nothing.

You take not more than four steps inside, and your head turns at the booming Southern drawl from deep inside.

"Is that who I think it is?!" Jake 'Hangman' Seresin teases, with that jerky smile that was seemingly always plastered right across his face. His arms are out, one holding a pool stick, and the other a beer, as he begins walking toward you.

"Karma, my dear, how've you been?" He passes you the beer, and you take a long sip, not bothering to greet him at all, because that's just how you've been. And to deal with Hangman, you'd have to take at least a sip or two. Oh, scratch that, maybe a bottle or two.

But you know he was a good man deep inside. Very, very, very deep inside.

“Oh, you know, Bagman, worse now that I’ve seen your face.” You nod as a reassurance, giving him that sarcastic smile of yours that made his brighter, teeth shining as he chuckles, shaking his head as he looks down towards his boots.

“Well, I thought they’d sent the invitations to the best of us, Coyote, but it seems it went to anyone…” And there he is…

“Last I recalled, you’re the one who leaves your wingmen behind, Hangman.” You snark back, shrugging off your jacket and placing it over the backrest of a chair, turning your back to him as you wave at Penny behind the bar.

“Penny, it’s been a while…” The woman just smiles at you, pouring a glass of her finest Tennessee she learnt you appreciate over those years you’d come to her bar almost every night.

You raise the shot glass to her as a thank you, downing it and letting it burn down the way of your throat, a pleasant yet bitter feeling that you were fond of.

This place reeked of him.

Those deep feelings and emotions that you’d tried so very hard to toss to the very back of your mind, slowly, steadily, it was all coming back to you as you look around the bar.

The pool table, where you’d challenged one another so many times, the piano, where you’d sang your hearts out almost every night you spent together at the bar, and the stools, where sometimes, you’d spill something by out to each other, and it’s somehow just bring you closer than before. Every single time.

You catch a glimpse of Natasha by the table and sigh in relief. You were glad you didn't have to suffer Hangman alone. You grab your jacket, shooting a 'bye, Pen!' to the older woman on the other side of the bar, who replies back, and you could hear the smile on her face. Natasha also seems happy that you'd showed up, holding out her hands for a hug.

You accept the embrace with a chuckle, rubbing her back and smiling into her shoulder in happiness. Phoenix had always been the low-maintenance friend. Wherever you'd leave it off, it could build back up again, restoring itself like a puzzle, and it'd remain constant until work stepped in.

She introduces you to Bob, her cute back-seater from Lemoore, who seemed like the shy kind. The two of you started talking, and you teach him the perfect way to line up a shot and take it. When he shoots the shot, and makes three balls into the pit, you clap your hands as Bob jumps in ecstatic-ness. You offer to buy him a beer, and he agrees, but only if you'd take one with him.

As you walk back towards the bar, there’s just a tiny, tiny change in the atmosphere that you’re able to pick up as the bell rings, meaning someone’s entered. That someone, could very well be someone completely not related to whatever was going on in your life, or someone very significant.

Secretly, you hoped it was the significant.

You'd concluded, the seats by the bar were way too close to the entrance, because the way you could practically feel the breeze blocked by him, it made you feel shivers across your body.

Okay, okay, maybe you shouldn’t think about this right now. Or ever again.

You down the second shot Penny pours for you, unaware of the knowing look she gives, knowing you’d need it for the events of the night. And Hangman.

And you knew who.

Or maybe you’d just get drunk on your feelings. Who knows?

The familiar glint in the air is cleared out when you see him.

Broader shoulders, grown mustache, and he’d gotten an inch or two taller somehow. The aviators looked good on him. So did the Hawaiian shirt. But you knew that.

His lips are curled up, and you assume it’s due to the excitement of being here. Being called up was exciting, sure, but it means that you’re probably one of those Top Gun wouldn’t mind losing in a dogfight or flight.

But you’ve been doing this long enough to know how to make it out. Most of the times.

“Bradshaw! Is that you?” Phoenix calls upon him like it’s been eons since they’d seen him. He just smiles, walking over to the farthest corner of the bar Penny made sure had the largest pool table for them.

He holds a mixture of smug and sheepishness to his expression, probably because he was the most dressed, in his true fashion. Just like the pictures your father had shown you.

He nears the pool table, just as Natasha rounds the corner of it, lining up her shot, “This is how we find out you’re state-side?”

Bradley winces just a bit, sheepishness growing as he replies, looking around the bar and placing his aviators in the v of his shirt, “Thought I’d surprise you back..”

Natasha simply hums in response, before lining up her shot and shooting it, pool stick jabbing, very intentionally, in his stomach, making him groan and hunch over.

You hold back the loud laugh you were sure to let out if it hadn’t been for Bradley’s eyes meeting your own.

And it’s so familiar all of a sudden.

Those butterflies that had flutteringly rushed up and down your back, the warmth on your cheeks which were surely maroon, the twists in your gut, all of it, back, for a second of eye contact.

“Guess I surprised you back.” Natasha replies, pressing her lips into a thin line at the man still hunched over.

Her reply makes him look over at Natasha, as he stands straight after pushing his palms against his thighs to steady himself, patting her twice on the forearm.

Then, he looks at you again.

It’s almost like he’s studying you, because you thought it’d be a fluttering glance like always. But it wasn’t that.

He says your name with a tone, one that leaves those butterflies in your stomach dancing once more around, just as the chill returns.

“Bradley.” You hate that you sound so breathless.

You tell yourself that it’s just Bradley, the one you grew up with, the one you went to high school with, and then the one who you trained to be the best of the best with. He was your best friend, and even if you hadn’t talked in what felt like ages, things would never change between the two of you. Especially not for the worse.

That’s just how close you were.

But then the heart steps in. And it’s a struggle of do or don’t, because if you do, you’re probably letting go of this beautiful bond you two hold. But if you don’t, it’s just more heart break watching him take those girls home. The prettier ones.

“You definitely know how to make an entrance, don’t ya’?” That smile on your face slips on like a glove, and you watch him as he looks down, the slightest tinge of pink coating his cheeks, the slightest shift of his hair, that looked perfect even when it was messy.

Green hazel eyes meet yours, and you’re enthralled at being able to actually see him face to face. He just seemed so much more real, and pretty from up close. Those random midnight phone calls could never do him any justice.

“Well, I learnt from the best…” Okay, maybe you made a few wild entrances in school. But he was right there by your side, reluctant, but just happy.

The two of you were chaos together, always causing trouble, even when you wore pigtails and he had that awful bowl-cut your eighteen-year-old-selves would cringe at. Even when he was the man of the baseball game and you were on the bleachers, cheering him on, and probably the loudest.

One day, a normal day, you caught yourself staring. And then, came the what-if’s. Thinking about the how’s. And the why nots.

The pining was excruciating. Having to be so close to him, but yet, so far away.

You’d chicken out every time you mustered up the courage. You’d watch as he backs away to his car and heads home as the kiss on your forehead left a lingering chill.

You’d like to think you had gotten over him. But standing here felt like standing on a tightrope with no net below, like if you fell, like the first time, you’d keep plummeting to endless nothingness, hopelessly in love with someone who could never be with someone like you.

No, no.

You’re good enough. And if he couldn’t see that, even after all these years and giving up on practically everything for him, then that’s his loss.

And it's a loss that would be heavy on your heart. Because this had been here ages long. Just like that shot of tequila was making you feel.

He steps forward, his hand out at his side as he gestures questioningly for a hug with that raise of a brow and that grin you’d loved all these years.

And you fall off, beginning your descent.

You step into his warm arms, wrapping yours around the back of his neck as you close your eyes at the familiarity, ignoring the chill from when you could his arms around your back, your chin resting on his shoulder.

That was one thing about him you also liked, his warmth. His comfort. His way of converting your frown into the brightest smiles you’ve ever smiled within an instant. How his mere presence could make you giddy and happy. Just him, and you'd remember what home felt like.

This was great. This is where you wished you could stay. It was upsetting, knowing he'd never like you the way you'd want him to. But whatever this was, it was good enough. Just the pure thrill of wanting, was enough.

You step back first, smiling up at him when he grins down at you.

The riffs of 'Slow Ride' is what catches your attention first. Then, Hangman steps into the playpen.

You notice the way intimidation subtly hangs from Bradley's face, as it falls flat, the slight narrowing of his eyes.

Yes, Hangman and Rooster never got along together. Bradley tried to be the bigger man first, but Hangman would piss him off in some way that would rock him off his rails, and one day, he just snapped.

"Bradshaw. As I live and breathe." Hangman's tone is natural, as he steps forward, showing off his pearly whites with a crinkle of his lips. Bob, amidst lining up a shot in the game, stands aloof when his cue stick is snatched by the blonde. He stands up, not leaning forward anymore, looking around like a lost puppy, just as Fanboy pats him on the shoulder in reassurance.

You narrow your eyes at Jake, at just how much of an ass he could be. All the damn time. Strike one, Jake. Maybe you'd get to punch him this time after all.

"Hangman. You look," Bradley's eyes glance up and down, the corner of his lips pulled up the slightest, "good."

Jake lines up his shot in what seems like a fraction of a second, and you're sure to roll your eyes.

"Well, I am good, Rooster. I'm very good."

He makes the shot, without looking down, perfectly sinking three balls in.

"In fact, I'm too good to be true." Jake adds, and that's your cue. You roll your eyes, but not before you catch a glimpse of Bradley looking over at you with an expression that said, 'can you believe this guy?'.

"So," Payback steps in, and for that you're mighty grateful, tired of seeing Rooster and Hangman compare sizes for what seemed like the billionth time, "anybody know what this special detachment is about?"

Your attention diverts, and so does everyone else's. You were glad to have received mail, besides Bradley's usual letters and a few other financial statements, and surprised to realize the stamp was Top Gun's.

The letter was straight to the point, but not very informative, just something along the lines of, 'pack your bags and come be our bitches for the next month'.

But seriously. You remembered what your first detachment letter was like, clear as a crystal, and it held some sort of information. All you new about the current mission, was that there was a chance you'd get to be team leader. And you weren't going to pass up that opportunity.

"No, mission's a mission. They don't confront me." Jake's leaning against the pool table in front of Bradley, meaning you could get a clear whiff of Axe body spray off of him. You try to hold back your grimace. Keyword : try.

"What I wanna know," Jake's eyes meet your's with that godawful cocky smirk he'd made his signature for practically everything, "is who's gonna be team leader?"

And then he looks back at Bradley, his smirk widening even more, "And which one of y'all, has what it takes to follow me."

You let out a scoff, narrowing your eyes and raising your brows at his words.

Just how much farther up his ass was his head?

"Hangman," Bradley replies, "the only place you'll lead anyone is an early grave." That cuts it deep. Flashbacks come about and you try hard not to shudder.

Jake's off the table now, stepping further and further towards Bradley, who stood amused just as he neared, "But that's just you, ain't it, Rooster?"

"You're snug on that porch, waiting for just the right moment," Jake'd like to think so, but his eyes flicker towards you for a brief second, before going back to taunt Bradley again, "that never comes."

Bradley keeps his calm, ever the older man amongst the two of them, simply smiling in amusement. Jake leans just the tiniest bit closer to Bradley, not even a crinkle in his smile disappearing, “I love this song.”

And then he backs off, heading off to the bar, leaving everyone grimacing. Literally, everyone.

“Well, he hasn’t changed.” You speak up, watching Jake charm Penny. Back at the Academy, he was just the same. The only difference was, he was your friend. He was Bradley’s friend. At least they wouldn’t snipe at one another then, and simply tolerate each other’s presence. God knows what happened between them suddenly, making them the only rivals amongst your entire class.

“Nope. Sure hasn’t.” Bradley shakes his head just once, watching Jake too. He shakes his head once again, almost like he was slipping out of living the possibility that someday they would have one another’s backs.

Though, you were glad the tension had been cut when Jake’s stride began.

With every step he took, you felt like you could let loose now, and not be alert about Jake and Bradley getting into a cat fight, because, damn, could these both get in a tussle.

Without another word, Bradley’s hand wraps around your wrist, and he begins walking towards the table at the front, dragging you along with him. And you let him, knowing exactly where this was going to go.

If you’d have asked Penny Benjamin who made the most chaos on a coincidentally calm evening, she’d say, Rooster and Karma. Because the way the two of you would sing, it’d entrance the crowd and compel them to practically huddle around the two of you, singing just as loudly.

Yes, the songs would make people go even more crazy for drinks, but Penny was definitely over her ear drums tearing. Though, she was glad to see you both so close, knowing just how much the two of you had been through together, yet you’d stay by each other’s side.

And there was a possibility where you’d gotten drunk drunk and opened your heart out to Penny because she’d lent you her ears to disturb with your problems. She knew just how much you loved Rooster, and she knew the limits to where you’d go for him, and him, for you. It was visible. And it seemed natural.

You’d always be grateful for what you had with him because there was nothing like this.

And, there was nothing like the power of an unrequited love. Yes, okay, it would make tears fall out of your eyes, yes, it would make an agonizing knot in your throat, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Worst part is, you don’t even know how it began. It just happened. And it happened all too fast, and all too deep.

When you reach the piano, Bradley sits down, lending you a smile you swore sparkled underneath the yellow comforting light of the bar. You leant against the piano, a smile naturally covering your face as you watch him fiddle with the piano for the first few seconds. He plays a random melody, one that sends shivers down your spine because you know just how much fun you’ll have tonight, right here, beside him and everyone else.

You feel a hand on your shoulder, approaching from the back was Natasha, beer in her hand and smile on her face, followed by the other boys surrounding the piano by your side.

Natasha knew. From the very beginning. In fact, she was always the one encouraging you to make a move because she was “tired of seeing you make heart eyes at him”.

So, here you were. Right where you wanted to be. Right with whom you yearned to be.

You let the worries and tension knot out of your shoulders for the night, singing in utmost happiness and carelessness for howsoever your voice sounded for once, for howsoever you were with your friends for once.

Bradley just wishes you’d notice the way he looked at you as he sang, “You’re fine, you’re so kind! I’mma tell the world that you’re, mine, mine, mine, mine!”

Because he so wished you were.

[starberry-cupcake]

Here I am again, hoping this silly recap brightens your day a little bit, I'm giving you a gentle hug and a mug of your favorite warm beverage ☕

previously, in harrowcita del 9:

this happened

I somehow predicted @lady-harrowhark's tshirt in the one before that also, it was very funny, in case you missed it

CHAPTER 48

we're doing just one chapter again because this one was Eventful, fam

last we knew, abby pent was trying to lorraine warren the ghost out of harrowcita's bubble

my running theory was that the ghost was commander wake aka allegedly gideon's mom (none of that is in any way confirmed yet)

and ortus was about to say something

I said it might be poetry and, guess what?

I WAS RIGHT

you go, ortus, you recite that poetry

abby apparently takes that as a cue to do something and thinks ortus has too much faith in her

but ortus trusts her, there's a lot of polycule moments in this one

the sleeper/waker/slasher allegedly gideon's mom unconfirmed absolutely does not give a fuck about any of this, she's slaying them all with her "baggy orange suit and gun collection"

I need the suit to look like this so bad

harrow starts making constructs but killer bae starts turning them into ash in seconds

I mean, I know we need harrow to live and this woman is not supporting that idea but damn, she looks cool af

if you fought the emperor at any given point, amanda (I'm calling her amanda for now, I'll elaborate later) how did you lose?????

ortus is harmed, so harrow has to continue with the recitation in his place

so harrow continues to recite the nonius poetry, while abby chants in the background and everyone else waits while bleeding

it's a very involved artistic performance that we've got going on over here in canaan au river bubble

sleeper/waker/slasher/alleged commander wake alleged gideon's mom aka amanda (according to me) shoots harrowcita

but then abby is lifted in blue flames and seems to be holding an invisible book and everything gets all vib-ey

these are the exact vibes I'm picturing

(not because I have a print of that in my room)

so harrowcita is saved from getting shot in the head by a man with the Ninth uniform and a very stellar use of the blade

AND YOU WOULDN'T BELIEVE WHO IT IS

IT'S ORTUS'S BLORBO FROM HIS SHOWS!!!!!!!!

matthias nonius is a short king who is surprised to be speaking in meter but is very happy to be here to defend the Reverend Daughter and fight like an expert killing machine

WHERE WAS ALL THIS FIGHTING POWER WHEN IT CAME TO KILLING THE EMPEROR

but not only is matthias nonius 10/10 at fighting (as advertised), the shrine ortus has in his head for him is helping to even the playing field with the waker/sleeper/alleged commander

she can't shoot anymore

"I killed wizard's filth like you all my life. I killed them with guns, and bombs, and knives, and gas, and when I didn't have any of those I just got in real close and put my thumbs through their fucking eyes. You can flick that little skewer around all you like, boy. I'll choke you with it"

SHE'S INTENSE, we can be certain that the Harrow Only Notes were hers

"I certainly hope you're a fighter. God knows you're not a debater"

you guys I'm a certified mati nonius fan right now

ortus is drawing little hearts in his poetry book and writing Ortus Nonius in it

"If all of her cavaliers were this excited for death, she was definitely the problem"

they just love you too much, harrowcita

so mati nonius and waker/sleeper/alleged commander have the most intense and entertaining fight ever

because lyctor fights are weak and boring

but this, this is cinema

harrow thinks that, if gideon had been there, she would have loved the fight but also she'd be terrible at running commentary of it

I disagree, gideon's running commentary is one of the things that keep us together as a society

"In life she must have had few, if any, equals. Her people—whoever they had been—must have cherished her as their finest champion."

gideon got some great fighting genes from all around, if my theories prove right

I mean, if her people are the people I'm thinking, they still have posters of her, so she must have been a big deal before she crashed in the ninth

SAD SHE DIDN'T KILL DR REVEREND EMPEROR JOHN THOUGH

BUT THERE'S STILL TIME FOR THAT

LIKE AN HOUR

harrow says mati nonius is "a poem" which is very nice of her to say

you go, short king

there's a lot of blood happening, also, which could be encouraging, since before this, the waker/sleeper/alleged commander wasn't bleeding at all

the room changes to become a ninth chamber and alleged commander changes clothes from the star trek orange suit to a different yet still orange getup and a golden mask

ortus's shrine in his head built for mati nonius is rewriting the possession

because nothing can pull you from the depths of despair as fast as your favorite blorbo

"My master in life was revenge, my mission is one of—Goddamn it, I'm not going to start talking like this"

more points for the gideon's mom theory

protozoa and ortus are now communicating telepathically, they are starting to put aside their rivalry and finding out they have a lot in common

enemies to friends to lovers speedrun

mati nonius loses his sword and goes feral

protozoa throws his cunty seventh rapier towards him, mati nonius catches it and ends the waker/sleeper/alleged commander

it all looked incredibly cool

once the enemy is partially defeated (let's remember she's supposedly tethered to an object that I think is gideon's sword), the body horror starts falling from the walls

it's described as "sausages flung from a height" which is...quite the thing

like, I get what that sounds like, but also, maybe I didn't wanna know

harrow looks at the face of the waker/sleeper/alleged commander and says it's the woman from the poster of the shuttle

YASSSS GETTING CLOSER TO MY THEORY

like, I still don't know if the woman from the poster is commander wake or if she is indeed gideon's mom, but I'm going all in on this theory

now we have a little intermission in which everyone is waxing poetic about everyone else

this is the canaan house we always wanted to see

protozoa is giving heart eyes to mati nonius, mati is giving respects to harrow, ortus is saying he wants to write a poem about abby, magnus is telling ortus not to flirt with his wife as a joke but ortus looks mortified

and abby says ortus did most of the job but she also points out she corrected some of his spelling

which might have been the biggest mistake in magnus's and abby's lives because they just destroyed their polycule

you can't treat the ninth like that, fifth, they take it personally

but ortus is vindicated because his oshi, his favorite blorbo, his biggest hero, tells him nice things

harrowcita goes to check on the ghost corpse of the waker/sleeper/alleged commander and finds some tags

one of which says AWAKE

I THINK THAT'S MAYBE A. WAKE

AS IN COMMANDER WAKE

and I'm naming her amanda, as previously established

it would go well with the ancient tumblr meme

the prophecy

sure hope this isn't the famous alecto everyone keeps mentioning because it'd ruin my prophecy

abby tells harrow the only way to get rid of her for good is to destroy the object to which she's tethered to

which I suspect might be gideon's sword, so fuck all this

we're meant to lose gideon and her sword??? absolutely not

let the woman kill the emperor instead

ALSO

surprise! mati nonius is besties with gideon the first

now, for someone who was sold out to be super serious and not an extrovert, gideon the first knows EVERYONE

he knows mati nonius, he probably also knows, to some degree of intimacy yet undetermined, the commander, he might be somewhat related to our gideon

the man is everywhere

basically, mati nonius and gideon the first had the same speedrun friendship that gideon had with camilla

they fought each other once and one of them thought "you're friend-shaped :) "

so, mati nonius is willing to go help gideon the first with the beast

because, as we have previously seen, no other lyctor is currently doing what they were supposed to

so, ortus says he'll go with mati to help gideon the first

abby and magnus want him to go with them to be forever happy in their polycule, but it's too late

abby has insulted his spelling and magnus has made him feel uncomfy with his joke about the flirting

HOWEVER protozoa has told him he actually likes him AND has quoted poetry HE WROTE HIMSELF

enemies to friends to lovers to soulmates

martita, who was there the whole time, ties her sword to her broken hand and says she'll go with them

martita is actually cool for a second house person

judith, you didn't deserve her

NOW THERE'S A PROBLEM

A BIG ONE

if harrow doesn't go back to her body, she'll get lost and lose her mind in the river

if she does, though, she's gonna kill gideon for good

harrowcita has a crisis and a breakdown

(and also stops for just a second to remember gideon rolling up her sleeves)

magnus compares the situation to a breakup he had with abby one time, which I don't think really encompasses the gravity of this situation, but ok magnus, it sure is similar

I mean, the breaking up part maybe but the level of gravity of the situation? idk man

I'm sure breaking up with abby felt this dramatic to you but...it's a little different

abby and magnus leave, telling harrowcita that jeanne said to tell gideon "hi" if harrow sees her first

which is super cute of the kid tbh

so, that leaves us with real!dulcinea

who is still here because

1) much like her lyctor counterpart, is very resistant to dying for good

2) she's determined to get vanished into nothingness and disappear into the very essence of existence, which I think sounds pretty cool

"The Seventh says nothingness is the only truly beautiful thing anyway, so nyah"

3) also: "Actually, I've got something to tell you"

I SURE HOPE IT IS A WAY TO SAVE BOTH GIDEON'S AND HARROW'S LIVES

FINGERS CROSSED

and that's it for this chapter!!!! next time, I'm expecting more gideon and yandere twin antics!!!

[gracefireheart]

✨Here comes Team Fortress - Pokemon [Mystery Dungeon] Edition✨

'Aight, so, let's go over who is what and why I chose said pokemon for them;

Pyro - [shiny] Heatmor: This one was chosen from a poll I made, which had a few different fire type pokemon in it for, well, obvious reasons. And honestly, I'd say Heatmor was a pretty good choice in the end. Also, their ability would be Flash Fire :]

Demoman - Druddigon: I'm gonna be truthful. Originally, I thought "it would be cute if he was a Druddigon since it looked like the dragon on the Scottish flag :)." And then, way too late into the drawing, I remembered that the flag I was thinking about (that has a dragon) is Wales, not Scotland o(-( But I just said fuck it, let the man be a (imo) cool af dragon. Oh, and his ability would be Sheer Force.

Sniper - Inteleon: The most obv pick for him as 1. He has the Sniper ability. 2. He literally has a special move called "Snipe Shot". 3. Has a Gigantamax that has Inteleon high up on it's elongated tail, staring down at it's opponent with a water sniper harpoon thingy. And 4. Inteleon is lanky.

Heavy - [Regular] Ursaluna: It's a bear. It's big af at 2.4m tall (or 7'10"). And it has the ability Bulletproof :)

Scout - Grafaiai: I first looked after pokemon with high speed stats, noted some of them down, then spotted Grafaiai, which is a mischievous fella that does grafiti. And since I like the thought of Scout being a good artist (because of Expiration Date), I thought it would be neat. His ability would be Prankster.

Medic - [shiny] Togekiss: Mainly, I wanted to choose a fairy type pokemon for him 'cause of the old "dragon slayer memes" that went around when the fairy typing had been announced and was shown to be super effective against dragon type pokemon, which used to only be weak against other dragon types pokemon. That, and Togekiss kinda looks like a dove (even if it's supposed to be a plane? Apparently?) His ability would be Serene Grace.

Soldier - [shiny] Rampardos: Not gonna lie, I just thought this pokemon would fit him well. Sure, I wasn't able to put his soldier helmet on 'cause of how dumb this pokemon's head is, but I still thought it would fit him. His ability would either be Sheer Force or Mold Breaker.

Engineer - Raichu: Another one I did a poll for, and again, I liked the outcome :) Raichu just feels like a very Engineer pokemon.

Spy - Zoroark: The most obvious one of them all due to the ability unique to Zoroark, aka Illusion. There's not really anything else I can add onto this lol

[waynes-multiverse]

Polaris – Chapter 9

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, ramp up the angst, guilt trips all around, hospitals, bits of fluff in all the chaos, smut (with a heavy dose of more angst)

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: Well, there was no way this wasn't going to be angsty af. Enjoy the ride, loves! 😘

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 9: Marooned

The cool, breezy autumn air whipped you across your face, a sharp, frigid sting in your lungs that burned right through to your heart. Each breath you desperately clutched was a fight for life.

Your mind, moonstruck and lunatic, spun complicated cobwebs. Your feeble body and fragile bones threatened to crumble and crack underneath the devastating weight of the truth. You crouched down on the parking lot asphalt, head heavy in your shaking hands.

“Hey, hey, just breathe…” Beau’s deep voice and warm hand on your back were a short-lived comfort before the first sob broke through you.

He knelt down in front of you, large hands cupping your head when your own grew too tired to hold it. He rested his forehead against yours, green eyes leveling with you. His thumbs wiped the tears from your cheeks.

“Maybe it’s not him,” Beau bargained, his voice a soft whisper. His disavowing mind refused to accept what his breaking heart knew to be true.

However, there was no doubt in yours. “No, I’m sure it’s him.”

“It still might not be true… It could be one of those CGI deep-fakes. You know, they’ve gotten crazy good… She just wants to mess with us,” Beau tried to reason, every bone in his body fighting to accept the truth. Because as soon as he would acknowledge it, he’d lose you. How could he live with that?

Your eyes lifted from the ground, your gaze boring into his. “You really believe that?” Your voice was harsh enough to break through the solid brick barrier he had erected over his heart, your words a wrecking ball. A jittery and hesitant lick of his lips was his abdication. He lowered his head in resignation. “How’s that even possible? You saw him die, right?

Beau’s mouth opened without an answer, his eyes flickered alive with memories. Panic rose with realization and poisoned the pumping blood that coursed through his heart. “I-I saw him get dragged away… I heard the shot.”

He was sure. He was so, so, so sure. And then, it all fell apart. What had he done?

You straightened up, slipping out of his grasp, and clasped your mouth, turning your back to him as your body rattled with shock. “Oh my God… Oh God…”

Beau rose to his feet behind you and swallowed harshly as the realization hit him like a freight train. He wanted to reach out and touch you, needing you now more than ever, but he didn’t know if he still could. His mind raced a mile a minute with questions he couldn’t find an answer to.

How was Randy still alive? Had the cartel kept him all this time? How did Diane find out? And how the hell did she get a hold of him?

“Y/N, I-… I don’t know what to say.” His voice trembled. He could feel you drift further and further away from him till you were just a dot out on the vast ocean. He didn’t want to lose you but didn’t know how to stop it, either. He thought all he needed was for you to just look at him, and it would all be right again. But when you did, it shattered his heart into a million pieces.

“All this time he was alive and God knows where. I-I could’ve looked for him. I could’ve helped him…”

“You didn’t know,” Beau said softly, pushing your blame onto himself. He could’ve known. He should’ve known. He felt helpless, lost, adrift. “Y/N, what d’you want me to do?”

You needed a moment to clear your head enough to think straight. If it wasn’t Randy but any other victim, what would you do next?

“We need to find that bunker. Get him outta there,” you concluded. “You think he’s still alive? You think she’d kill him?”

Recalling the snippet of the video, you remembered the timeline only read an hour instead of the usual forty-eight. It wasn’t about making you suffer through his death because you’d already done that. Diane just wanted you to see.

Beau knew there were only two possible options. Either Diane caught Randy only to show he was still alive and then kill him, or she brought him back into your life to wreak havoc. But the hows and whys didn’t really matter. Both options would cause a rift between you two wider than the Grand Canyon. If Randy was back, dead or alive, Beau’s relationship with you wouldn’t survive it.

He knew it was over. You’d never pick him. He wasn’t the love of your life. He wasn’t your once in a lifetime. He wasn’t true love.

He was your second choice. The one you were stuck with. Your rebound.

“I don’t know,” Beau replied and forced some oxygen into his lungs. He didn’t know for how long he had held his breath. For a minute there, he had forgotten how to breathe at all – and he didn’t even care.

The ringing of your phone broke both of you out of your haze and fatal fantasies. You fished it out of your pocket and stared at the screen with a furrowed brow.

“Who is it?”

“Unknown caller,” you replied before you answered the phone, pinning it between your shoulder and ear. “Hello? Yes, this her…”

Beau watched as your eyes widened, how your brow rose, how your mouth fell open, how your heart stopped. As you hung up, he could see you swallow before you found his eyes. He waited with bated breath for news he already knew.

“That was the hospital here. They said someone brought in my husband.”

The stone silent ten-minute drive to the hospital felt like an eternity. Beau drove, his grip stiff and knuckle-white around the steering wheel. The heat of the old Jeep had barely kicked in by the time you arrived, your hot breaths coming out in vaporizing clouds as you bit your nails bloody and down to their beds on the passenger’s seat. Neither of you spoke a word, too terrified it would cut the last string between you that still tied you to each other.

As the bright sign of the hospital came into view, your heart thudded in your ears, so loudly you could barely hear the world around you anymore. Everything was subdued and distorted as if someone was holding your head underwater. All you wanted was air, but your lungs flooded with water.

Beau killed the engine in the parking lot. Both of you sat there in silence and petrified in time, two fossils buried deep in the earth and uncovered by archeologists with fine brushes millions of years later.

His gaze drifted up to the star-filled sky, green eyes locked on the North Star. He wished he could rewind the tape to that night, all the way back to the start where the two of you were still alive. His eyes then swerved to your hand that lay there untouched on the edge of your seat, his own palm twitching to hold it in his.

“You want me to come in with you?” Beau asked carefully.

It was the first time since you’d left the Sheriff’s Department that you looked at him again. Your eyes were pleading. “Of course I do. Please don’t go. Don’t let me do this alone.”

Then, you saw it – the flicker of relief that flashed through him. You recognized the insecurity and apprehension in his eyes. Your heart dropped. You had been so consumed by the news, you hadn’t noticed how he had spiraled. You clasped his hand tightly in yours. He squeezed it desperately back. He was drowning, and your touch was the lifeline he had been waiting for.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to see him. I don’t know if I’m ready to see you with him,” Beau confessed. He had endangered his best friend, deserted him, and left him to die. And that wasn’t even the worst he’d done. The worst was you.

“Me neither,” you admitted and interlaced your fingers with his. “We’ll take it step by step, okay?”

He nodded.

As the nurse sent you down the hallway to your believed-to-be-dead but actually only-long-lost husband, you didn’t know what to expect as your hand lingered on the door handle.

Beau could not only feel the tension in your body but physically see it. The stiffness in your neck and shoulders, the tremble in your hands, and the twitch in your eyes were a dead giveaway.

As you felt Beau behind you with a hesitant palm resting on your lower back, you wondered if you should tell Randy. You supposed you had to at some point. And suddenly, you felt overwhelmed.

You had been so focused on what awaited you in that room, you hadn’t thought about what your husband expected. Or was it ex? Did he know you had moved on? Were you still allowed to? Would he be happy for you? Would he let you go? Would he hate you for it? He probably would, considering who you ended up with. Or maybe you had it all wrong, and he would be relieved it was someone he loved, too. Wouldn’t you be if the roles were reversed?

His death had severed your ties, but now that he was back, were your vows, too? Did he even know everyone thought he was dead? Had you cheated? Was that what Diane had been trying to tell you? That you had sinned? That you were a liar? That you were awful? That you were a whore?

“Should I-, uhm…”

“No,” Beau answered your dangling question as if he could read your mind. He dropped his hand from your back and ceased all contact, even going as far as taking a step back. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought you were radioactive. That should’ve been answer enough. “Not yet, at least.”

“Okay.” The rejection hurt, but you understood. This was hard for him, too. Maybe even harder. You had to weather the storm alone, ship-wrecked and marooned on a desolate island.

“You wanna go in alone first?”

“No.” You shook your head and pushed down the handle, suddenly feeling more courageous and determined than before.

You barged in. Not gentle. Not slow. The urge to see him, face to face within the same four walls – after all these years, after all the tears – washed over you like heavy rainfall. You didn’t want to weather the storm – you wanted to be it. It felt safer than to seek shelter under driftwood.

Then, your heartbeats halted. The world around you paused. No murmurs in the hallway, no beeping machines or bustling footsteps. It felt like you were standing in the eye of the hurricane, everything else flying fast around you, but the center was calm.

As you stood there, feet calcified in front of his bed, a set of familiar whiskey-colored eyes found you. The slightly furrowed brow above them softened, his lips parted in awe. He still looked the same, only slightly aged by the years and what he’d been through.

“Randy?” Your voice was a quiet tremble but still filled the entire room.

A smile flickered alive on his face. “Hey,” he said, his own voice raspy and dry as if he hadn’t had water in several days. Deserted like he had been. His hazel eyes lit up, full of love and adoration. It was the same look he had always worn when he gazed at you. For a second, it felt like nothing had changed. It saturated your frozen heart with warmth and your gray and bleak vision with technicolor.

“I-I don’t know what to say,” you stammered with a thick swallow.

Randy snorted a bit. “Now, you know how I always felt,” he quipped, blinking the tears in his eyes away. He’d always been a ray of sunshine. He was light and sweet and good down to his bones. A part of you had expected that light to fade, though, considering what he must’ve experienced the last few years. But it hadn’t. He was still shining as bright as ever, his spirit untouched by the darkness that had tried to swallow him. “Are you just gonna stand there like a moron?”

A small laugh escaped you as tears began to sting your eyes when he spoke those same words you once had said to him. You wanted to cry when you heard them. What sliver of doubt remained in your mind that it wasn’t truly him vanished upon his words. Your feet wanted to move forward, but your heart tugged you back.

You glanced back over your shoulder and found Beau, standing with lovelorn patience by the door as he watched the exchange between you two. The muscle in your chest then stung, like someone had dropped it into a pit full of cacti. You felt torn in two, pulled into opposite directions.

Randy followed your gaze and finally noticed his second visitor, his brow shooting up in surprise. For a second, Beau felt nervous as he awaited a reaction. He expected resentment, hatred, blame, and anger. What he got, however, was a rising smile.

“Hey, man.” Randy seemed happy to see him, not an ounce of animosity detectable. “You two realize you’re staring, right?”

“‘S good to see you, Randy,” Beau managed to say and forced a quivering smile to his lips. And it wasn’t a lie. A big part of him was elated to have his best friend, his old partner, his brother back. But he couldn’t ignore the gnashing, lethal wound in the shape of you that Randy’s return caused.

Carefully, you stepped closer and let out a nervous breath as you sat down at the edge of his bed. He reached out and tenderly caressed your cheeks, brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear. A smile curved his lips as soon as he touched you again. It felt like he was holding a miracle while you looked at him like he was a ghost.

“You look good, sweetheart,” he said. His hand then slid down your arm to hold yours, fingers brushing over the one. His gaze dropped when he couldn’t feel what he was looking for, the tan line of the missing item around your ring finger still visible. Pensively, he licked his lips. “They told me everyone thought I was dead.”

“Yeah, uhm, that’s kinda my fault. I’m sorry, buddy,” Beau said and swallowed harshly. The sight in front of him almost took him out. Even though it was a familiar picture, one he had seen a million times before, seeing it now was a different story. After everything he knew, you in someone else’s arms that weren’t his felt like a bullet piercing through his chest. His heart was bleeding. “I thought you got shot.”

“It’s okay. Don’t blame yourself, man. It was crazy in there. It could’ve happened to anybody. I did get shot. Only the slug went straight through the shoulder,” Randy explained. “Cartel then took me to Mexico. Juárez.”

Your wide eyes wandered to Beau, the two of you sharing a horrified look. Randy had been right underneath your noses this entire time. You could’ve saved him.

“You were in Juárez? We were there, too,” you muttered in shocked realization.

“Oh, I know,” Randy said, surprising you both. Your heart beat faster, accelerating to lightning speed and close to jumping out of your chest. Did he already know about you and his best friend? But he answered your question before you could ask it. “Cartel talked about a task force moving in on them. I overheard them once. Said my old partner and wife were looking for me. When y’all got too close, though, they moved me further south. There’s nothin’ you coulda done.”

“What did they do to you? How are you still alive?” you asked and didn’t want to sound ungrateful for it, but you were completely baffled. You had too many questions racing through your mind.

Randy chuckled a little at your line of questioning. “You’re still the same.” He smiled and tore your heart apart, because you knew you weren’t. Not really. “I think they thought they could keep me for leverage. Trade me at some point? They held me in a basement at first till they moved me south. Kept me at farm of some cartel member. It wasn’t highly guarded, but even when I had opportunity to flee, I didn’t know where I was or where to go. I thought they’d either kill me or give me back at some point, but then months… years passed. I gave up hope they’d ever let me go. And then, one night they threw a bag over my head and I woke up in some weird bunker… in Montana. Apparently. Anyone wanna explain what I’m doing here? How did you guys get here so fast? They only brought me here a few hours ago. Had to convince them a little to find and call you since they thought I was dead.”

“I was already here for a case. There’s a crazy serial killer lady who took you. That’s who locked you into that bunker,” you explained and watched his brow crease.

“Huh.”

“I work Major Crimes now. It’s a long story,” you added quickly. You didn’t even know where to start. How could you recap three years?

“Really?” His smile was back. This time, it was a proud one. “That’s good. You always wanted that.”

“Yeah.” You blushed a little and gave him a small smile in return.

He squeezed your hand, his gaze flickering to your missing ring on your finger once more. “So, uhm… since everyone thought I was dead, I guess we’re not married anymore, huh?”

Your heart exploded like he had just deposited a grenade inside of it. You averted your gaze to your joined hands. “Uh, Randy…”

“No, hey, it’s okay, sweetheart,” he quickly soothed and chuckled to lift your worries, and you weren’t sure if it was a real smile or just one for your sake. “I’m just trying to catch up, you know? Get up to speed. ‘Sides, if we’re not married anymore, we could have a second wedding. Might be fun, right?”

Tears gathered in your eyes as you tried to smile through the pain. “Uh, yeah.” You nodded and hoped he couldn’t see your reluctance.

Randy then stretched his neck and pulled you closer, his lips meeting yours in a slow and chaste kiss that felt like your first. Tears of happiness mixed with sadness as they rolled down your cheeks. When Beau softly cleared his throat, you broke away from Randy, your cracked heart shattering into sharp daggers that sliced through your skin. What were you supposed to do, though? Reject the man you married because it would break the heart of the one you currently loved?

“I-, uh, I should go. Let you two catch up,” Beau said uncomfortably. The crestfallen look on his face destroyed you. “I’ll keep the press away from this for as long as I can. Lord knows they love a good back-from-the-dead story.”

“You can do that?” Randy arched a curious brow.

Beau pulled his jacket back a little and tapped the badge on his belt. “Kinda the sheriff here.”

“Wow, congrats, man. You deserve it,” Randy said with a genuinely happy grin. He seemed like a kid who was catching up with all his friends on the first day of school after summer break.

Beau gave him a tight smile that said he didn’t think he deserved it. But only you could read that one. “Uhm, thanks, bud. I see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Beau, wait–”

But he had rushed out of that room so fast, he couldn’t even hear you as the door fell shut behind him. You offered Randy the same tight-lipped smile and stroked his cheek. Your emotions were a mangled mess. A part of you was hauled back to the past, old feelings that you had buried deep coming back alive, while new ones reminded you that it wasn’t the same anymore.

“Give me a sec, okay? I’ll go talk to your doctor. See when we can get you outta here,” you said and waited for Randy’s nod of confirmation before you darted out of the room.

Your heart thrummed in your ribcage as you raced down the hospital’s corridors all the way to the parking lot where you finally caught up with Beau. He was on a fast-paced escape to his car before he stopped when you called his name.

“Beau, wait!”

As he spun around, he dragged a palm over his face in an attempt to wipe away the tears. But the evidence was still visible, his eyes red and distraught. “You should go back, Y/N. He needs you.”

The heart in your throat caused you to choke. “So do you. I’m so sorry,” you said, sniffling as tears flowed down your cheeks. But as you stepped forward to hold him, he took a step back.

“It’s okay. I get it. Trust me. I do. He’s your husband, and I’m just… Well, I’m nothin’,” he said, his voice laden with heartbreak. “Just don’t come closer, ‘cause if you do, I don’t know if I can hold myself back, alright? ‘Cause all I wanna do right now is kiss you and love you, even it’s the last time. I can’t do that to him. You understand?”

Everything in you wanted to break through the fence he had set up, full-throttle with a lead foot on the gas, but you thought it was best to respect his wishes for now. You didn’t even know where your head was and wanted to avoid hurting him more.

“Here, uhm, you should have this back.” He fished out your wedding ring from his back pocket and dropped it into your palm, the quick brush of his skin tearing you apart even more. The golden band suddenly felt heavier than it ever had. You didn’t even know when he had grabbed it from his desk drawer, but the foresight scared you. He let out a humorless chuckle as the sadness brimmed in his green eyes. “Not the ring I thought I’d give you…”

Your lips parted, your brow lifting in realization. Whatever dusted remnants were left of your heart plummeted. “Beau…”

“Don’t. ‘S okay,” he wrung out with a doleful smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright? Call if you need somethin’.”

With a passive nod, he jumped into his Jeep. You clutched the ring in your hand so tightly it almost burned through your skin as you watched him drive off.

Beau uncapped his third beer of the night (plus two tumblers of whiskey and a shot of his old friend Don Julio) as he sat on the bed in his trailer. A pile of your clothes still lay on the floor to his right, your favorite coffee mug stood in the kitchen sink, and your shampoo was stored in the shower. It felt like you hadn’t left, even though you had.

He replayed the clips of the hospital in his mind over and over again. How Randy held your hand. How he touched your cheek. How he kissed you. How he looked at you when he first saw you – like he had finally found the piece of his heart again that he lost years ago, the same love in his brown eyes that had been there since day one. And Beau understood, because he had felt the same way once, too, when you walked into his office – back into his life.

He told himself it was the torture he deserved for all of his sins. And he swallowed it all down – the hurt, the heartbreak, the jealousy, the possessiveness. He had no right to feel those things. Not anymore. You weren’t his. You never were.

How long did he have with you this time around? Five weeks?

Suddenly, he regretted leaving Houston, regretted leaving you. He wasted a whole year that he could’ve spent loving you. He always thought, in the end, he'd have more time. Eternity, even. How fucking foolish was that?

The headlights and sounds of a car in front of his home drew his attention to the window, shadows and lights dancing along the walls of his trailer. He couldn’t see his visitor, but considering it was in the middle of the night, he assumed it was either Jenny or Cassie checking up on him. He had texted them to let them know what was going on. But as he opened the door, the sight left him speechless.

“Y/N…” Your name fell from his lips like you were an angel he had prayed for. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if his eyes were seeing things right, or if you were a booze- and depression-induced hallucination. You wouldn’t be the first ghost that came back to haunt him, after all.

“You ain’t nothing.”

With those words still floating in the night air, you cupped his neck and crashed your lips against his, kissing him fervently with everything you had as tears streamed down your cheeks. He returned the kiss just as passionately, although you could feel a part of him fighting against it. But his large hands grabbed your waist and pulled you flush against him, the kiss lasting till both of you were bluer than the sky. You didn’t let go of him, though, hands holding onto his shirt, too scared he would slip through the cracks of your fingers if you did.

“Y/N, I can’t…”

“I love you,” you interjected his hesitance with firmness and gripped him tighter, your gaze drilling into him like you hoped your words would. “You think I’d just forget? You think my feelings for you just vanish into thin air? It doesn’t work that way. I can’t just snap my fingers and stop loving you. I can't go back to the way things were. I know you think me and Randy are some great love story, but so are you and I. Look, when he died, I grieved that loss and it felt like I was dying, too. I never thought life would be... exciting... and fun... and happy... and so full of love again. And then… I-I fell in love with you, and my life somehow started again. And I know this whole situation is fucked up and confusing and impossible. And I don’t know what to do… I don't know what the right thing is here. But I do know you feel right, and I can’t just pretend you and me and everything good that came with it never existed. I don’t want to. Please, just… I need you, Beau. You said you wouldn't leave again. You're not making things better by walking away...”

With a stretch of your toes, your nose grazed his before you gently claimed his plump, soft lips once more. Your tear-stained cheeks met the roughness of his beard. The kiss started ginger and careful, giving him time to withdraw if he wanted to. But he didn’t. His tongue slipped inside your mouth and stoked the flames of the fire that burned for him deep within your soul. Inhibitions were set ablaze as the kiss turned searing. He hoisted you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his middle as he carried you inside.

The trailer’s peaceful silence was disturbed by panting breaths, a pathway of clothes leading from the entrance to the bed. You peeled off his shirt, and he slid off yours over your head. You unclasped your bra and tore it off, pressing your tits against his bare chest as your lips tried to remain connected to each other through it all. By the time he sat down on the edge of the mattress with you on top, only two naked bodies seeking friction remained.

You wanted to feel him everywhere, wanted him to fill you and make you whole again until you stopped feeling like you were breaking apart at the seams. Hands roamed and explored as tongues mingled and savored tastes. As you straddled his muscular thighs, his arms wound around your middle and kept you firmly pressed against him, his hold on you strong as his fingers dented your flesh. You hoped it was enough to leave bruises behind. You never wanted to forget him, wishing his marks would be permanent ink on your skin.

“I need you,” you murmured against his thoroughly kiss-swollen lips, his cock rubbing against your soaking core as you gently rocked your hips.

“I want you,” you assured him, your mouth trailing a path of featherlight kisses along his jaw and down to his throat, his groan vibrating against your soft lips. One hand steadied itself on his broad shoulder as your other one fisted his hard, throbbing length and positioned it at your entrance, his cockhead gliding through your slick and teasing you till you shuddered with wanton need to feel him inside of you.

“I love you,” you whispered and gasped as you sank down, sheathing his thick cock in your warmth as your velvety walls welcomed him. With a needy and yet tender kiss, you soothed his grunt when he was fully inside you and prodded at your cervix. “Wanna make you feel good, okay?”

He nodded and squeezed his eyes shut. “Fuck, Y/N, don’t do this to me if you’re gonna leave,” he pleaded, his gravelly voice laced with desperation and pain. His hand softly caressed your face as he rested his forehead against yours. His love for you radiated in his green eyes like kryptonite.

You cupped his bearded cheeks and forced him to look at you, lifting his chin to find your eyes. “I’m not leaving you, okay?”

“But–”

You kissed him before he could bring forth all the reasons why you should, but you didn’t care. Your heart was the North Star, and your heart had led you to him. When you left the hospital, there was nowhere else you wanted to go, no one you wanted to see more. Your heart had only ached for him.

You were finally home, and now that you were back in the arms where you belonged, you kissed him so hard till his mind quieted down to a soft lullaby. You kissed him so hungrily till his cock twitched inside of you because you were the only one he wanted, too. You kissed him so passionately he felt your love for him seep into his own heart.

As you began to roll your hips, he met you thrust by thrust as he pounded up into you. His massive hands and sinful mouth roamed every inch of your body. Palms groped your tits and fingers tickled your spine. Lips kissed your throat and tongue massaged your nipples. Teeth grazed your flesh and beard burned your skin.

Your nails dug into the thick muscles on his shoulders and scraped his scalp as his cock split you open with each pump. His girth tore you apart, each time you eased back down a new pleasurable burn coursing through you as your walls stretched to accommodate all of him.

Your pace rose with the tides of your hips, your thighs flexing as your cunt stroked his cock and came closer to the finish line. Beau buried his head in the crook of your neck, writhing and groaning underneath you. His fingers bit into your flesh, surely leaving bruises behind this time. Your tits rubbed against his chest, and you could feel his muscles tensing and straining underneath your fingertips with each bounce. He was barely holding on.

“Come for me, baby,” you beckoned him, feeling your own orgasm approach. The fuse was sparked and burned a path right to your explosive core. “I love you…”

“Fuck!” Beau cried out and spilled into you, his body trembling in your grasp. Those words were all it took to tip him over the edge.

You came with a thundering moan. His release triggered your own, your pussy pulsing violently around him and milking his cock for all he’d got. His cum mixed with your arousal and gushed out of you, trickling down your thighs and coating even his balls. Your thighs shook with exhaustion as you let yourself fall down on him, his arms catching you and holding you close.

Still panting, his mouth found yours in the dark. His thumbs stroked your flushed cheeks, the rest of his fingers dangling in your hair, the grip soft turned bruising as he kept you lip-tied to him, the kiss tender turned rough.

His nose brushed yours as he looked deeply at you. You could see the despair drowning in his pine green eyes, his emotions overtaking him.

“Pick me. Don’t go,” he begged in a harsh whisper, your flushed face in his warm palms.

You placed a gentle kiss on his lips and nodded. “I’m not going anywhere, corazón.”

Chapter 10: It Matters

Phew, writing that hospital scene nearly killed me 😮‍💨 Next up, we have even more drama as the awkward throuple reaches a boiling point...

Join the TAG LIST here! 🌌 Wanna sponsor my caffeine addiction? ☕️

Everything Jensen: @alwaystiredandconfused @xlynnbbyx @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @blackcherrywhiskey

@deansbbyx @foxyjwls007 @ladysparkles78 @roseblue373 @zepskies

@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

@nesnejwritings @samslvrgirl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @fromcaintodean @barewithme02

@thebiggerbear

Everything Beau Arlen: @snowayumi

Polaris Series: @corruptedcruiser

[goldsbitch]

That one flight home

part 6 to That one Christmas flight

summary: Kiss me hard before you go.

warning: oral sex, cheesy af, swear words I guess, cliche probably, typos most definitely

It's inevitably a strange experience to wake up next to someone you'd never slept next to before. Y/N kept waking up as her heart was testing the limits of the amount of heartbeats a human body can entail before it becomes a condition. She watched Lando, as he snored ever so quietly, saving every moment in her memory. Unlike her, Lando was used to sleepless nights. And unlike her, the strangest part of their first night together for him was the fact he fell asleep in the middle of his sentence. So simple, so easy. His mind and soul safe and sound. Perhaps he made the leap of the first night slumber on the first flight, when she rested her head on his shoulder for almost six hours.

When he woke up, she was standing by the window, watching whatever seemed to be happening on the street. He stayed silent, admiring the figure and the way light higlighted her curves. Only once she turned around, he spoke to her.

"Hey you...early morning person, I see," he grunted, wanting nothing more that to return to any of their previous activities, starting with cuddling.

"Yeah, sadly so. Would love to sleep til 12 sometimes," she said and glanced over to him morning boner. Lando noticed her look and shook his head.

"What can I say, impossible to control that."

"I like it, it's cute!"

"Did you just call my boner cute? Ouch," he pretended to get hurt.

She returned back to the bed. "It's cute that you have one."

"Hard to imagine not having one." They locked their lips having absolutely no care in the world for morning breath.

//

"Breakfast?" she asked, hungry as ever. It was a hard decision as she absolutely loved being locked in his embrace.

Lando had something different in mind, but god he was starving.

They got dressed and lazily strolled downstairs to a lovely breakfast patio. Y/N was over the moon internally about how touchy Lando became with her. His and on her lower back was something she could get used to very quickly. Y/N noticed few looks coming their way as they sat down and could not quite pin down why. First thing on her mind was that they looked a cute couple. She disregarded that as she remembered that she was sitting here with Lando Norris.

"Did you notice that people were looking at us?" she remarked over her morning coffee.

"Yeah...But like in a different way than they usually stare at me. Fuck it honestly, we have few hours before return to the madness so let's just chill," he smiled without a care in the world. Y/N relaxed again. They chatted away for few minutes before an older Italian lady, one of the fellow guests, approached them. Lando was almost ready for a photograph and a plea for confidentiality - that was until she opened her mouth and started screaming at them in Italian. He had no idea what any of those words meant, so he searched for a clue on Y/N's face. The poor girl sat there with a red face, making it really hard for Lando not to laugh at this situation, so he sipped his tea to hide his mouth. Once this lady left, silence fell over. Quite few people were giving them looks.

"Was she commenting on my hair?" asked Lando to ease the tension. "I am having an exceptionally good hair day."

Y/N took a deep breath. "From what I've gathered, we are both absolute filthy pigs, who have no manners and use this nice hotel as a brothel."

"Ah, nice. Cool!" Lando respectfully waved at the angry lady.

"Do you think we were like loud yesterday?" It was wrong how proud it had been making him.

"We're in Italy for god sake, isn't it all suppose to be little louder here?"

Y/N shot him a look. He sent her a wink.

Time was a cruel lady. The pair was starting to reach the final minutes of their encounter. The quickly wrapped up their breakfast, sharing amused looks in silence. Lando felt a strange discomfort when he saw her checking out the time.

//

They were back kissing in their hotel room in minutes. It was impossible to do anything else. They were making out on the bed when the housekeeper came in. Lando stopped them in the door: "Late check out, please! Late check out. Yeah, thanks." He then turned back to Y/N. "I'm not done with you, honey." With a cheeky look on his eyes, he began to remove Y/N's shorts and underwear.

"Pretty," he commented once she was naked. She rolled her eyes and bit her tongue. Lando went onto putting slow kisses from her feet all the way to her thighs, testing which spots worked the best. Once he was almost the top of her thighs, he looked up to her and gently bit. When he saw that she was ok with it, he used more force. Y/N let out a shy scream of pain, the kind of pain that is dancing on the edge of pleasure and aching.

She moaned his name softly, as his tongue continued where it had started and abruptly ended the night before. She touched his hair and held his head in the place. Lando enjoyed her being demanding. He varied his moves and meticulously burned her reactions into his memory as if he was suppose to be completing his exams on this. Once he fund the specific moves she responded to the most, he repeated those until she could not continue no more. He watched as she reached the high for two times. There were few things making him feel genuinely proud of himself like this has. This what people meant when they described mindblowing, Y/N realized. "Come here to me," she demanded once she was done. Lando went to cuddle with her, face to face, watching her breath slowing down again. The laid like this for few minutes, neither of them wanting to break the silence. Until one of them had to.

"We'll need to get going so you don't miss your flight," Lando whispered. Y/N wanted nothing else then to miss her flight and stay stuck in this room with him.

"Yeah, I know. Just one more minute."

//

The drive to the airport was unusually quiet. Lando had his flight later than Y/N did, but insisted on going with her earlier to accompany her. Airports were becoming her least favorite thing, as another goodbye was knocking on the door. They held hands casually all the way to the check in. Another last kiss. The kind to leave sting.

"Give me something of yours. So that I have something to remind me of you," he asked softly. Taken back a bit, Y/N took her necklace off and handed it to him and exchanged it for Lando's hoodie.

Y/N was the last passenger to board the plane taking her back home. Lando had the same coffee at the same place as he did yesteday, only this time it had a weirdly bitter aftertaste. He played with her necklace, she wore his hoodie trying to soak his perfume in while it was still fresh.

//

First hangover is always the worst. Pains in weird places one did not know existed, blood flowing in a strange pace. Everything slightly out of place and sun just a little too bright on the tired eyes. Y/N got drunk a little too quickly on her racer crush and the come down was more like a vertical crash down.

The evening she arrived back home was a joyous one. She got out the plane and almost danced all the way to the train heading to the centre. Met up with her friends and would just not shut up about her time with Lando. Unstoppable force that would talk the most skilled politician into listening her talk about the way his hair curled and his touch burned. Like every other drug addict, once the reality hit and the high lost its intense hue, she crashed.

What was supposed to happen now? Monday morning rolled in and new chapter began. The darkest thoughts she kept at bay for long enough got landed the main role. It was just a hook up to him. Nothing more. He was way beyond her league. She gave him what he wanted and he will not be able to give her what she wants. He is already is somebody else's arms by now. All the other guys will be just a different shade of gray compared to the bright orange that followed his charming aura.

"Y/N? Yes, she is a hard to get bitch, she will not fall easily for just about anyone. Not the relationship kind, that's for sure", is how she'd probably get described as by her friends. Her best kept secret was that she was an absolute hopeless romantic. Fell a little too hard for every crush she had and never found a way how to attract those she wished to spend her days and nights with. Her evening with Lando was the closest she got to her deepest dreams coming true. Every other situationship she has had in the past was so dull compared the how loudly this one screamed. So of course, when no messages came in from him, her natural instinct to draw herself back kicked in. A lovely coping mechanism that has destroyed lots of chances in the past. Even though she was well aware of that, it was the road she knew how to walk and somehow could not help herself to avoid it.

A lifeless copy of the bubbly girl from this weekend roamed the halls of Bologna university, digging her self into a deeper hole than needed. All those sad songs suddenly made sense.

//

Life came back screaming loudly at Lando. As soon as he landed back it was one thing after another to make up for the time. Races comes first, always. Even if it does not on that day naturally, there will always be several people to force it upon him. In those randomly scattered moment where his mind could run freely, he immediately went back to the salt cured late night air in Italy and the kisses with the one who'd been occupying his mind for longer than he'd be willing to admit. Life demanded a lot from him, so daydreaming had to be put on hold.

One thought haunted Lando no matter how much he tried to ignore it. Y/N was just so pure in his eyes. Unaffected by clouds of fame, free in whatever she wanted to do whenever she desired to. Not having to face constant criticism and prying looks. He still hadn't processed fully the effect this has had on his relationships in the past. How it gradually changed the tone of the romance, until it destroyed it completely. He fell for her hard. Fascinated by the lightness that surrounded her. She radiated, lifting him up to her heights when he was with her and that was something you just could not buy.

She was grounded. Belonged somewhere, was a local and a regular. Had a life centred in one place (mostly, excluded family), group of university friends and was figuring this life out on her own, without anyone inserting their own ambitions into her. There were no people relying on how she did and he almost envied the freedom this provided her. A feeling he was sure she could not properly understand, as he did not as well before responsibility had been thrusted on him.

He loved his formula 1 life. But a part of him felt strangely inadequate around those who have had these student life experiences. She could do anything.

He needed time to think about his next move, if there was any to ever happen. Gut feeling was to fly her out here to spend time with him, introduce her to everyone that walked by and make sure she falls for him at least half as strongly as he fell for her. On the other hand, he also felt like clumsy giant trying to pick up an origami dove - once he would, he would inevitably crush her and damage the wings, the kind of she did not know she had. The kind of wings one starts to see only once they are impaired. Maybe keeping their affair as it was now was the only way how to keep the light in this memory.

But at night, when the noises of his busy life went quiet and the the intrusive thought we like "yeah baby, let's go", he buried himself deep in his favorite sad songs and dreamed of touching her again, of seeing her smile and of her proudly introducing him to her friends. Sleep was something Lando struggled with even on a normal day, but on days like these it was like as if it was a secret language he was never taught to speak.

//

Jealous. That’s what Y/N was. In the ugliest sense of the sinful word. Gone was any internal morale compass guiding her to not go against other girls. Feminism said goodbye when she scrolled down endless adoring comments on his fan page.

She did not give two shits about his fame or god forbid money. When she met him, she had no idea what he meant to so many people. A cheeky well dressed funny boy with a dream, that’s what she saw. Seeing the pure adoration thousands of people had for him was overwhealming. So in the random moments between other people talking, she imagined meeting him in another life, one where he was just one of the other students and she finally got to relive the uni romance she had wished for - cute study dates, making out at parties and sitting at local balconies, over looking the historical town. It was becoming a little too consuming. Like a headache that won’t go away.

She wondered why - why was there a huge ever-present hole in her stomach making her nauseous.

part 7

__________________________________________________

Tagged all those who like to suffer: @prudyhoo @anuksunamon @sagestack @esquerkaren @ushygushybaby @ilove-tswizzle @thehufflepuffavenger1  @superlegend216 @mehrmonga @lovely-blackinnon @mylifeihate1029 @lausdigitaldiary @tswizzleismother @goldenharrysworld @llando4norris @classiclitfreak @llando4norris @ophcelia 

[gemini-forest]

Hi I'm getting on my soap box to talk about this man for a second

I love how in canon in the beginning he's shown as this mysterious scary dude

Like we're supposed to be like "woah he's so cool and scary" but almost INSTANTLY in chapter 1 we learn this man can't fucking use a bow or EVEN FUCKING TRACK.

Next we learn he's a socially awkward dude but saves it by being sassy and snarky

Then with Mary he's polite and gentle. And with Jack just HUGE dad vibes

Sure there's moment where we're not supposed to root for him and show he's not a perfect man. And honestly his flaws makes him so much more interesting to watch.

But then you remember that some FUCKING how this handsome af 36 year old, can't track, can't hunt, can't fish. In canon he exploded a rabbit with a SHOT GUN and bought fish because he was embarrassed to come back empty handed.

How the fuck this man make it to his 30s I don't know but God the funny flaws are so good. Because they feel genuinely human. Like I can't do certain shit. But this is in the 1800s, shy of 1900s you'd think he would build a skill for SURVIVAL. Like he can cook, read, write, draw, ride a horse, make a fire, set up a tent, shoot a gun. But can't hunt or fish very well.

God I love this stupid man

[lil-gingerbread-queen]

Bats' current suits 1/?

Batman (Bruce Wayne) - Nightwing (Dick Grayson) - Red Hood (Jason Todd)

"Why does Jason have bat's ears?" Multiple reasons. 1- I think the Arkham Knight's design in the video game of the same name is a really smart concept. It speaks for Jason, by telling the player that this new enemy is actually linked to Batman, and by demonstrating a key part of Jason's character: even when he hates the Dark Knight, he still admires Batman. He shots at Batman while dreaming of wearing the cowl. 2- I really wanted to give him bat's ears, but I told myself it would look stupid. Later, I'm reading comics and I think it's a crime Cass loses her bat's ears once she isn't Batgirl anymore. Bs, give her back her ears! Then, I see beautiful fanarts of Steph as Spoiler, not Batgirl, with bat's ears, and now, you have convinced me she needs bat's ears. And if everyone as bat's ears, Jason can! 3- It holds his hood in place?

Nothing more to say then I think Nightwing's canon suit looks uncomfy af, and Jason doesn't have a crowbar, just a sword and guns (which are the ones he has in Arkham Knight, who can become a rifle, because that's cool). Jason's bat's ears are connected to his mask, it goes over his ears. Do not ask how the bandages work on his arms or how Bruce's cape does this, it just does.

[noowayybroo]

Leon Kennedy being Needy AF HC???

Is this called a Headcannon? I feel like such a boomer knowing nothing about fics help me lord :sob:

Ok so I had this thought about Good 'Ol Leon right? Hear me out PLEASE.

No warnings, SFW, Oh wait there is a warning: SiCkLy SwEeT, also you might think this is manipulative or not like tickles so uhhhh please do not be upset :(

Leon is NEEDY. He doesn't get to spend a lot of time with you so the time he DOES get to spend with you, he absolutely cherishes.

I'm not talking about Young Leon, or Old Leon, I'm talking about Leon at every age. He's not too confident in his words, especially when it comes to speaking about emotions, even less so romantic ones, so he prefers by a long shot to just express his feelings through actions:

Whether it's snuggling up flush to you in bed, on the couch or even on public transport sometimes, he's not at all ashamed to make it known that you're the one who makes him comfortable.

Sometimes when you're working from home or watching a film, or even gaming, he'll come and nuzzle up against your arms until you lift them, giving him access to pull you in for a tight hug.

He especially loves playing with your hair, and can be the big spoon sometimes, but in his frequent moments of vulnerability would love to curl up into your arms and feel you play with his hair, massage his head or stroke your hands over his arms, back, chest etc.

When you catch a glimpse of his face during these hugging sessions, he's either staring up at your face in awe, completely enamoured with you and so grateful to have you, or his eyes are closed softly but surely as he smiles to himself, entirely content in his whole existence as his troubles float away. Sometimes you can swear you can even hear him purring in your embrace.

Sometimes, if you enter the room once he's already there, his face lights up and he stops what he's doing to make grabby, needy hands at you, begging you to come to him and submit to his loving cuddles.

When you need support too, he's more than happy to oblige. He'll sit, stand or lay, listening to your every trouble and complaint before easing you into a firm, reassuring hug. He holds you tightly and eventually finds himself more than able to tell you everything he loves about you, and when you try and get away he only squeezes you tighter, joking with you and threatening to tickle you until you're happy.

If he's in your arms and you stop petting him, he'll get stroppy and try to paw at you or nuzzle into you to get your attention, and if you continue to tease him he takes matters into his own hands, playfighting with you!!!

Ah

Self indulgence is so cool bro

[ghostradiodylan]

[s k i l l ]

So, we talk a lot about Quarry headcanons and what could have been on the Brainrot Discord server that Kat made and one of the things I keep thinking about is how they gave (at least some of) the characters these sets of skills that never really impact gameplay, and I think it would be really cool if they did. Like, if there was more variety in who could be sent on which path. Switching Kaitlyn to the Hackett house path with Laura and Ryan to the scrapyard with Dylan being a popular one for fanfic, but also, idk, maybe Dylan won't let Ryan go without him so he ends up on the Hackett house path too? Maybe Abi steps up to go with Kaitlyn to the scrapyard and has to figure out the crane even though it's way out of her skillset, maybe Emma and Jacob can actually come back and link up with the rest of the gang instead of being stuck out in the woods for so long, stuff like that.

I'm just thinking about what their skills might be and how that might impact the game. Also keep in mind that if the character you most need for a task ends up up dead before that task comes along, it's going to be carnage for everyone else, which would up the replay value significantly IMO.

Kaitlyn: Shooting. She's a MUCH better shot than Ryan, if we can believe the Shooting Stars scoreboard (four of the actual children attending the camp score higher than him), but we never see that in the game? What if the aiming mechanism was actually different between different characters? What if there were shots you could make more easily as Kaitlyn, that were harder to pull off as Ryan?

Ryan: Agility. Guy does a lot of running and jumping, what if there were timed segments that were easier to complete as Ryan within the allotted time, or else something consequential happened? Good luck if you ended up plodding along with Jacob instead, now Abi and Nick are both mauled and turning, or something like that.

Dylan: Tech. Dylan's the physics nerd who slays at the crane game. What if you could bring him to the Hackett house and he could figure out the electric circuit puzzle in no time, but that meant someone else had to help Kaitlyn in the scrapyard? Maybe Ryan can still save Jacob without him but he takes too much time and the Hacketts catch you and pick off one of your party.

Jacob: Strength. Jakey's probably the buffest of the dudes, so maybe there are times you need a pair of strong arms or legs and Jacob's the only one who can come through. They also show us him picking locks but he never does that in an impactful situation, so maybe he'd have a lesser talent for that as well.

Abi: Stealth. Okay, so Abi runs and hides? Maybe she's awesome at hiding, then? Maybe she can get through parts of the game undiscovered by the werewolves that other characters can't. Maybe her being short AF means she can fit into hiding spots that you can't cram the leggy bois like Dylan and Nick into.

Emma: Observation. Emma's always watching and analyzing everyone's behavior and documenting things on her phone. Maybe she can find evidence or tarot cards others can't, or put pieces of the mystery together in ways no one else thinks of. Emma's a badass in the game, but it would be cool to see her 'documentarian' side come in handy prior to the credits rolling, too.

Nick: Climbing. I completely made this up because we don't get to see Nick do much besides try to pull his crush, suck face on a dare with Emma, and get mauled, but we do know he takes kids through the ropes course based on his dialogue with Abi, plus he's tall so he's got long arms and legs! Maybe he's the aerial expert. Maybe he can scale fences and get important items down from trees. Maybe he can climb up and free other characters who get stuck in those snare traps. (Obviously this assumes someone else can be the Designated Werewolf Victim, which I also think would improve the game.)

This also assumes Laura and Max keep their current roles, but I'd be up for that to be changeable too. It's not that I necessarily want a higher number of choices available, I just want the choices we can make to actually impact the gameplay and story arc more! Anyway, that's my Quarry ramble for the day (unless I come up with another one). Anyone else have thoughts?

[sol-lar-bink]

One Sonic Frontiers mod I'd love to see happen someday is playing as Galacta Knight.

I feel like a lot of the moves would translate well (Sonic Boom, where Sonic kicks air waves could just be Galacta swinging his sword like crazy)

The Homing Shot could be firing off Heart Spears

And Super Sonic could just be Aeon Hero Light

Cyber Sonic (?) would be Aeon Hero Dark. That extra power you get for the DLC final boss.

Do you see the vision. Do u see it...

Thats all I've been able to think about so far. I feel like I've talked about it before but I could be wrooong.

I'd imagine it'd be hard af to do, a lot of unique animations would be a must.

Wouldn't it be cool af to see Galacta fighting the Titans tho?!?

Thanks for listening to my random rambles.

[sanderssidesthehouse]

First of all, the reason it took me so long to put this out was bc I was trying to find good shots of their outfits and I simply couldn't except for Remus. Theoretically they all wear pants. I swear we've gotten good shots of them, I just can't find them anywhere so if anyone wants to help a guy out and send some my way, thanks in advance.

Look, is Logan hot? Yes. But it’s not because of the outfit. It’s because of the autism.

Just put him in a whole ass button up and some slacks and nice shoes, keep the tie, he doesn’t need a full suit, but if he’s trying to look professional, that’s literally what district managers and office workers wear, it would do. Now, if he did some character development and wanted to express his interests via clothing, we could throw in a lab coat or maybe a heavy duty apron. If he wanted to be more casual, you know he’s wearing a NASA bomber and star patterned converse but he also definitely put the stars and such on there himself. Space nerd has to have a favorite galaxy he could map out.

He’s not giving enough. He could be giving so much more. He’s Creativity and he is extra as hell, you’re telling me he couldn’t be MORE extravagant? Where are the furs? The cape? The crown? The DRAMA??? He’s playing a prince, but a prince can wear eyeliner. Where is it? Give him some gold highlighter, I want to be able to see him from the moon. A prince has got to slay, but what is he slaying? My spirits? With his current outfit, certainly. I’m mad because he can do better. He’s so boring to look at. Maybe it’s because he’s not just a prince, he’s specifically a Disney prince, but just because we’re pulling from a source material doesn’t mean we can’t spice it up, ok? Adaptation is allowed and encouraged to make improvements. But I’m also not really a Disney fan. You didn’t come here for unbiased facts anyway, you came her for my bad opinions.

I don’t think you can get any more Catholic guilt than that look so potential is met. Unfortunately the only thing he’s serving is church dad who cries himself to sleep next to his wife that he never has sex with because he’s gay but scared to admit it. She loves him but knows there’s something missing and resents him for it. They still have two and a half kids as is standard. Their picket fence is white. He’s living in suburban purgatory. He projects a little too much onto his dog. This is what he’s serving. I’m not eating it. Um, personality, yeah the fit pretty much sums him up. I hope at some point it doesn’t. I hope he gets better. Someone help him.

I know he’s on the cusp of proper development so he might get a new fit soon? Or not idk. I hope if he does it’s froggy. Give him one of those frog rain hats that would be cute af. He just wants to be silly, let him be silly, please for the love of everything, someone let him be silly.

I think we could have went harder into a subculture. Emo/punk and he doesn’t even paint his nails or wear a choker. What a fucking poser. The patches on the sweatshirt and holes in his T are good, though. He could also probably do with piercings and more make up. I do love that as a collective the fandom decided to have him keep the purple hair bc that really did him some good. I understand it's annoying to put chalk or wax in your hair every time to play him, but it would get him another point in the potential category. I just want him to look cool.

Serving- Dark sides know how to serve a look. If you’re going to be morally neutral/grey you have to make up for it by being hot. They don’t make the rules but the rules were definitely made for them.

Personality- I know exactly who he is by looking at him: A fucking dork. I love my dork ass wife.

Potential- There’s always room for improvement. Namely a yellow ribbon strip on the hat. I know in my heart of hearts that it’s there, but my eyes betray me.

idek if I’d say the cape is an improvement, I think they were right not to include it because it doesn’t really add anything to the way he’s been portrayed. Though I would love to see an occasion where he can play around with the cape because I love capes. I just feel like a variation of landsknecht would have served him well. Maybe paned slops. Pumpkin breeches. Do you see the vision? He just needs some slutty little booty shorts to amp up the bottom energy, and he already has the sleeve design to go with it.

Look, he’s not even my boy, but I’m going to defend Patton on this one. What else could we possibly do here? (I’m serious, please tell me, I want to hear about your Patton designs.) He’s just you’re emotionally repressed dad! Not MY emotionally repressed dad, for certain, mine wears Hawaiian shirts, Bermuda shorts, and crocs, but SOMEBODY’s emotionally repressed church dad. Probably. Maybe.

He’s not SUPPOSED to be all ‘it’s called fashion, sweaty’ because he’s just a guy! A very normal, boring guy! That’s part of his whole thing! He’s church dad! And his outfit shows it! Anyway, sorry Patton. I didn’t mean to expose you to this kind of outfit negativity. (This portion is mostly a joke. Idc if you think his outfit sucks. It does, that just happens to be in character which makes it technically not suck in my opinion.)

Maybe now that Janus has his hands on him Patton's fashion sense will improve. Light sides just don't do it like the dark sides.