#writers block kicked my ass

[surr3al1sm]

I regret to in from you guys that I sadly will not be able to make my expected posting schedule of starting the newest installment of my fic series this week. I hope that you guys will be able to find it in your hearts to forgive me and wait another week for a better chapter

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

Higuruma x Reader

cw: sub!Higuruma, dirty talk, established relationship, excerpt

You were being so mean. Poor Higuruma felt like he was being tortured. You sat across from him in the booth, bending low to make sure he could see down your low-cut top, before curling your tongue around your cocktail straw. You sucked it slowly, taking too much of the straw into your mouth with pouted lips. Under the table, you hooked your ankle around his, tugging to spread his legs. 

Higuruma shuddered, his knuckles white as he gripped the tablecloth. “You bloody tease,” he hissed. 

“Who, me? I’m just enjoying our dinner date,” you smiled. You kept eye contact as you slid your foot higher, brushing your stiletto heel against the bulge in his slacks. 

He clenched his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m going to pay you back for this when we get home, my love,” he warned. 

“Oh I hope so.”

That would normally be as far as it went. You loved to rile Higuruma up in public, because you loved how he would put you in your place in private. But some dirty little part of you wanted to test the limits tonight, wanted to see just how far you could push him before he snapped.

--

“Please, god, please,” he whimpered, crumpled at your feet. “I’ll be good, I promise, I’ll be so good for you…”

His groveling sent a surge of guilty pleasure down your spine. You bent down to his eye level, grinning wickedly. “Yeah? Gonna be a good boy for me, pretty thing?” You grabbed a fistful of his hair to make him nod. 

Tears sparked in his eyes at the sting of his scalp, but he let you puppet him into obedience. “Y-yes, yes I’m your good boy…”

You release him and straighten back up, staring down at him through your lashes. “You’re cute when you’re pathetic.”

Hiromi groaned raggedly, eyes fluttering closed at the insult. To his horror, he felt a wet stain spread across the front of his slacks, his aching cock leaking precum. “Please…say it again,” he murmured. 

Your eyebrows shot up. You had been confident that he was enjoying the dynamic, but the man almost came in his pants at being called pathetic? This was going to be so much fun. You tilt your head, feigning innocence. “Say what, baby?” 

Shame and arousal swirled in his gut, his dress shirt straining over his shoulders as he tensed. “Say I’m pathetic…”

You laugh. “I love you like this, my pretty, desperate, pathetic boy.”

The lawyer moaned, his head tipping back to stare up at you in adoration. “I’m yours,” he whispered thickly. 

“Yes you are.”

[master-of-47-dudes]

Oh! For those of you who like Lancer, I've made major progress in the campaign I'm writing: Kindness of strangers!

LRBT-III, otherwise known as Blanche to the locals. This sun-baked dustbowl of a planet has the high honor of being one of the few habitable terrestrial bodies that anyone has discovered in the Long Rim, and probably the only one that's actually any use to anyone. Luckily- or not so luckily, if you ask some people- it was Union that found it first. Well, about 70 years ago when they stumbled across this star system they got it in their heads that the Long Rim's days were numbered. There’s untold millions living out there scattered along the emptiest shipping lane in the known galaxy who'd need a way out once no one needed to pass them by, and by Christ the Buddha Union was gonna be there for them waiting with open arms.

All of that is background, though. You? You’re a bunch of mercenaries who got their hands on a couple of GMSes, decided to make your manna selling violence for pay. Worlds like Blanche don't take to colonies very well, so even two generations in there's still plenty of frontier out there being settled and railroad tracks being laid. The people out there struggle day by day to survive, and people like you are there to protect them from those who got sick of the hard life. Not everyone out there has the guts to stand up for the little guy- that's why you're called Lancers.

A setting and a campaign all in one, Kindness Of Strangers and its (eventual) follow-up Dancing With the Devil are a series of Wild West-themed 2-mission adventures intended to take players from 0-12 as they find themselves embroiled in the midst of a corporate conspiracy to overthrow the Union-backed government of the isolated colony of Blanche and a ploy to seize control over a nearly completed Blinkstation. All the while, a strange religious movement worshipping an eons-dead alien civilization grows ever more influential in the background...

This campaign tackles themes of colonialism, nationalism, corruption, and conflict between indigenous peoples, settlers, and immigrants, all in a world where well-meaning intentions have gone sour and the ghosts of the past have come back to haunt it.

Kindness of Strangers, Missions 1-3

Field Guide to LRBT-PN

Exotic Gear Documentation

Variant Frame Documentation

Kindness of Strangers Worldbuilding Short Stories

Kindness of Strangers LCP, Maps, and Assets

This latest update includes the first(ish) draft of Mission 3: The Field of Blue Children, allowing play of the first half of Act 2 and extending the LL range from 0-3. Mission 3 is heavily intrigue and RP focused, featuring a wide suite of characters, relationships, and locations in the Tourist town of Baugh- a thriving immigrant community situated on a soda lake.

The PCs have been hired to investigate a bomb threat at the newly completed Baugh Pumpworks, and water filtration and chemical processing facility that stands to end the water shortage and threatens corporate control over the colony's water supply- but is everything really as it seems? In the process, the PCs will go toe to toe with teenage gearheads, Pinkerton-expies, and a group of Sparri Espadas who got roped into this whole mess, and uncover the mystery behind the threat!

Also, there's a subaltern that talks like a pirate and catholicism.

Anyway this mission also includes a custom NPC Template (kind of, I don't know how to design the LCP for that but i did include instructions on how it works), several new reserves, and several custom sitreps!

So, check it out- I'm always looking for feedback.

[onyourowndaisymae]

strawberries

mammon hears you're missing something from the human world. so, he decides to fetch it for you.

content + warnings: just some cute (implied) x reader, can be read as platonic, normal mammon tsundere shenanigans, fluff

word count: 952

[longer oc version coming soon?]

mammon doesn't particularly think he's a nosy person. if you're having a conversation within earshot, then surely you're comfortable with someone nearby listening in. and when it comes to matters involving you-- well, surely your first man deserves to know more about you than anyone else, right?

while casually "passing by" (and definitely not stopping outside the door to the kitchen to listen in when he hears your voice get all soft and sentimental), mammon hears you talking to beel. you're talking about something you used to eat as a kid, laughing as you share how you used to make yourself sick on summer nights eating your fill. you paint a picture with your words of yourself several decades previous, with sweet red juice dripping down your chin, leafy tops discarded in the yard as you played long into the sunset. beel eventually has to ask you to stop-- he's actively eating his own meal, but your descriptions are so colorful that his stomach howls with want anyways.

mammon's lost in thought by the time he wanders off. what were these splendorous fruits you spoke so highly of? did they have a devildom equivalent? he didn't even catch its name...

part of him wants to grab these magical fruits and use them to turn a profit. since the exchange program had been initially proposed, a small but growing faction of demons had become obsessed with anything relating to the human realm. food, clothes, entertainment, etc-- all of it was heralded as exciting and mystifying. but the other part of him wants to see if you really liked them as much as you said. he wants to hear the stories directly from you, not overheard in the hallway, on how much you loved these little fruits.

a plan begins to form in his head. he'd be flying by the seat of his pants, but...

"they're a summer-y red human fruit. y'know, with the juice that gets all over ya?"

two teenage employees stare at mammon, trying to understand what the hell he's describing. he's speaking cryptically, like he doesn't even know what he's looking for.

"sir, can you be more specific?" the employee with flaming red hair asks.

"you said a summer fruit?" the other employee, an older blonde girl, asks. "like, maybe... watermelon chunks?"

"I don't know, maybe?" mammon's face is just as befuddled as before.

"here," the ginger proposes. "how about we go get some samples and have him taste everything? maybe he'll be able to figure it out then."

mammon is left standing alone as the young girls dart off towards another market stall, whispering and plotting as they scurry together. he feels like an idiot, truly. damn you. damn you and your pretty words, your smile, the way you make him feel so in love with you that he's willing to brave a human world market by himself on a busy sunday just to make you happy. his cheeks feel warm just thinking about it.

the girls return as quick at they left, a little basket of fruit donated by some nearby stalls to help the poor confused man nearby find fruit for his beloved (a bit dramatic of a marketing pitch-- but they're not exactly wrong). they eagerly beckon him to try all of what they brought. after all, helping someone is much more interesting than, say, doing the more boring tasks in their job description.

watermelon are nice, but the moment he see the actual size of the whole fruit, he knows he's got the wrong one. cherries are too tart. he can't imagine you gleefully popping them into mouth as a child without choking and dying on a pit (humans are so fragile). raspberries are close, but he isn't quite convinced...

then he sees them pull out a fruit with the leafy green top-- if only he'd remembered that earlier-- and he knows he's found what he needed.

"what are these called?" he asks.

"strawberries?"

there's a sense of awe in your voice as you look down at the little container. your favorite childhood snack is staring back at you, and they look just as wonderful as ever. mammon's face is red as he shrugs noncommittally.

"yeah, well, whatever. those lousy witches gave 'em to me while i was up in the human realm. i figured you'd know what to do with 'em."

he's lying. you could tell he would before he even opened his mouth, but you don't mind. the berries are vibrant and pretty under the kitchen lights.

"would you like to share them with me?"

"huh?"

his confusion only makes you laugh. you take your time washing them off, telling him the stories of how much you loved eating strawberries and running around your back yard at night. you have a feeling he knows these already. but he listens intently, arms crossed as he leans back against the counter and watches you, sprinkling in some commentary now and again about how human children are strange. there's a soft look on his face as he watches you work.

finally, you back to the counter and sprinkle a light dusting of sugar on the strawberry, then hold it up for him to try. his fingers brush against yours, but you make a noise and open your mouth-- you want him to do the same. he gets red again, eyes darting around for a good several moments, before hesitantly leaning in to take a bite.

a dribble of juice trails from the corner of his lips. you smile, chest warm, and thank him for caring so much about you. his sheepish smile only makes the strawberry taste that much sweeter as you take a bite yourself.

[lordsukunas]

vampire!choso who likes watching humans bc he thinks their lives r interesting, but he finds u especially beautiful :3

he doesn't hide his vampire side from anyone, but it's not like he could if he wanted to. he's pale asf, dark eyeshadow around his eyes, dark stringy hair, and has fangs. it's pretty obvious lol

despite that, he doesn't wanna scare u away. so he makes sure to try and hide his fangs, to look a little more alive and less corpse-y, and he does his absolute best not to stare at your throat. he really, really does. he can't help a little glance every once in a while tho bc it just looks so yummy n enticing, kind of like the pastries he watches u take bites out of

n its rlly awkward bc u can tell he's trying not to smile w his teeth but u don't really get why. vampires r kinda like myth n nobody takes them too srsly bc theyre never out and about. thankfully for choso u find his awkward smiles and absolutely dead, pale complexion a little endearing

u also notice him staring super hard at ur neck sometimes and u have to go "???" before he snaps out of it with a buncha apologies. kinda weird dude but ok!

anyway hes just a silly little vampire guy who has a crush on u pls give him a chance. pls.

[not-neverland06]

little teaser for what I've been working on so you guys don't think I'm abandoning you <3

At first, you don’t think they’re going to stop. They slow down slightly but it looks like they’re going right past you. “Shit,” you hiss, shoulder slumping in defeat. You push soaked strands of hair off your face and try to blink the rain out of your eyes.  There’s a slight screech and you whip around to see the truck parked a few feet in front of you. It reverses slowly and you feel something like panic bubbling in your gut. You stumble back a few steps from the road, wondering if you should lock yourself in your car.  Then the window rolls down and the person inside leans forward. “You alright?” You want to lock yourself in his car. He has to be the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, pretty brown hair pushed back as he glares out into the night at you. You find yourself tongue-tied, stuttering over your words until you finally push out, “Broke down.” There’s a slight curve to his lips as he glances back at your car. “Need a ride?” Pretty privilege is real because if this was anyone else you would say no and get back to the safety of your car. Instead, you find yourself nodding dumbly, eyes still locked on his. He laughs a little and hops out, his shirt instantly sticking to his skin.  You have to physically stop your jaw from dropping when you see the outline of muscle underneath his flannel. “Get in,” he shouts over the downpour. You nod, opening up his door and throwing yourself inside. 

lumberjack!logan supremacy

[atimeofyourlife]

A love written in the stars

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: Valentine's Day | rated: t | wc: 850 Steve always had bad experiences with Valentine's Day. Eddie makes him change his mind.

Steve had always hated Valentine's Day. Ever since he was a little kid. Because his early- only- experiences with it was an attempt to buy another's love. His father would always go overboard, showering his mother with attention and love and expensive gifts. Buying her love and loyalty for another year before going back to his mistresses by the end of the week. So by the time he was old enough to understand Valentine's Day, he already had a strong distaste for it.

Once he was old enough to start 'dating' it all fell on him. From when he was twelve, if he was even vaguely involved with a girl he was expected to get her a card and flowers or chocolates. Even when there was nothing more between them than holding hands at lunch and maybe a kiss on the cheek. He'd be lucky to get a scribbled note in return.

Once he was in high school and actually interested in dating and girls, Valentine's Day started to feel very transactional. He would put in cards and flowers and dates with expensive gifts, and he would get affection and maybe sex in return. But he knew deep down if he didn't go all out with it, they wouldn't be interested. Most of the girls around him wanted an experience they could brag about, not anything with commitment.

With Nancy it felt different. He knew she wouldn't want anything too big and out there. So he had a card and a single rose for her at school, with a candle lit dinner that he'd made that evening, with a full bunch of roses. A sweet date without any expectations for the evening. She'd got him a card and some chocolates in return. The date seemed to go well, but as the evening went on, Nancy started to pull away, the grief of losing Barb eating at her from the inside, making her feel guilty for doing something that Barb would never get to do. So the evening ended early with him comforting her and then dropping her home early. He knew it wasn't her fault, that she was suffering and struggling with her trauma, and he didn't blame her for the evening not going the way he'd planned it. But, when he got home to see the half eaten dinner that he'd worked so hard on, he couldn't help feeling that there was something inherently bad about Valentine's Day. It felt like it was almost cursed for him.

The years after Nancy didn't get any better. He tried to stay away from the spending a lot of money style of Valentine's plans, and focused more on the romantic, meaningful style dates. But once his dates realized he wasn't going to be showering them with expensive gifts, they lost interest. Often making excuses to leave before the date had run it's natural course. It made him want to just give up on Valentine's Day.

But then Eddie happened. Neither of them mentioned any plans for Valentine's Day. Steve was thinking of treating it just like any other day. Get up, go to work, come home, eat dinner together, have sex, then fall asleep. And to start with, Eddie seemed to have the same idea. The day started normal, a lazy morning make out session before they both had to hurry to be ready to leave on time for work.

When Steve got home, the table was scattered with folded paper stars. He didn't know what to make of it. He was so caught up in it, he didn't notice Eddie coming up behind him until his eyes were covered.

"You weren't supposed to be home just yet. No peeking." Eddie said, steering Steve into the bedroom and pushing him down onto the bed. "Now stay here until I call you."

Steve didn't get a chance to reply before Eddie had left the room again.

He wasn't alone for long before Eddie came back to him. "It's ready now."

Steve followed Eddie back to the kitchen. Plates already on the table with what looked like take out from their favorite restaurant. The room lit only by the star shaped lights that had been hung all over the kitchen.

"Ed's, I-" Steve didn't know what to say. He just wasn't used to a partner making an effort for Valentine's Day.

"Happy Valentine's Day, baby. I wanted us to eat under the stars, but it's too cold to eat outside, so this is the next best thing." "I. I love it." Steve choked out, unsure what else to say.

"And each one of these stars," Eddie picked one of the paper stars up, holding it between his thumb and finger, "is to remind you how much I love you. I know you don't have great experiences with Valentine's Day. But every time you feel like you deserved the way all those girls treated you. Open one of the stars. Each one has a message inside, reminding you that you are so loved."

Steve couldn't help the tears that were welling up. "I love you."

the paper stars are these origami wishing stars:

[fauustic]

the fear of losing this

too many people in my inbox got a little too comfortable asking me for “a fight between reader” as well as “miguel angst please” so i am combining both as i struggle to get through this writer’s block ))

gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara

angst. little comfort. your universe is falling apart, yet miguel doesn’t want to let you go.

warnings: pure angst. light cursing? i’m not too sure, just lots of tears.

word count: 2211

The night sky of Nueva York shined brightly with the bustle of commute, highly advanced cars whirring softly through the clouds. Your mask hung from your hands at your side, bunched up in the anger that fizzed and popped in your bloodstream– threatening to explode at any given moment as Miguel brushed off your conversation with a stoic chill.

“You don’t understand how important this is to me Miguel–” your voice raised as you paced the highest level of the building, padding against the overly complex structures that mimicked webs. You would have laughed at the irony of having a headquarters so invested in the theme of spiders that even the ground you walk on replicated the symmetry of webs if the both of you were in any other given situation– but that joking persona that came with the gig flew and crashed out the window the moment Miguel brushed off and rejected your plans to return back home. “I need to be there, helping my people. What is the point of me taking up a spot in this ‘fateful–’” You dragged out the words, venom dripping from your tongue as you partially made fun of the organization he spent so much time on. “Spider Society if my own boss doesn’t let me return back to the place I belong in?”

“No, no.” His tone was blunt as he stood as rigid as ever; surveying your every move in a way that you could never guess what he was thinking, with or without the mask. “You don’t understand.” Miguel repeated your own words back to you in a taunt as one of his clawed hands fidgeted with the device that decided whether or not you could walk around or stay in a little bubble for the next week just like all the other prisoners were down below. “You created a problem in your own universe, that’s the problem we’re having here. You cannot fix it.” He practically spat his words, anger emitting from every rhythmic clang whenever he tossed the technology into the air and caught it with calculation. “It doesn’t matter whether or not you’re from that Earth, you put that place you so valiantly ‘protect’ into a state of emergency. Is that not clear enough?”

“Oh, sure– but the hundreds of other spider-people that can’t go one word without making a joke of the situation can fix my mess? Am I just some inexperienced rookie to you, Miguel?” You countered, ripping your gaze from his own. His features were exposed to you as his mask was off as well, the sunken circles beneath his eyes growing prominent when a vibrant car passed by and shone a striking yellow light into the corridor the two of you stood within. His usual expression made of stone chipped away with the stress he was under as a deeper frown made its way onto his lips.

Miguel sighed dramatically before pinching the bridge of his nose, turning away from you to mumble a jumble of incoherency. “God,” He repeats your name like it's a curse, “That’s not what I’m saying at all. It’s just not safe.”

You scoffed, eyes growing wide at the audacity of this man you have to call your boss. “Of course it’s not safe Miguel, that’s our job.” You couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief, pulling at the roots of your hair in any attempt to calm yourself down. “I risked my life every single day in my universe before I even knew of your existence, yet now suddenly I can’t?”

“This is different. For some reason these– these anomalies are running rampant in your world and it’s taking everything to finally have the problem at hand contained.” Miguel held his breath as if he had something more to say, but left it unsaid the moment you stomped closer towards him in a new fit of anger.

You shoved your palm against his chest, baring your teeth as a groan erupted from the back of your throat in a concoction of frustration and despair. “Exactly! That’s exactly the problem, Miguel. My people out there are suffering and fighting for their lives, surrounded by these people that are like me but aren’t me.” Tears began to well up in the corners of your pained gaze, humiliation washing over your consciousness as you sniffled and stifled a sob. Fauxe confidence and quips were something you specialized in, annoying Miguel in a little dynamic the two of you found yourself in as months turned into an entire year of being called in for missions. Emotions were never a thing the both of you have ever discussed with one another because it wasn’t your position to pry and he was never the one to initiate such conversation.

“If you just let me go, I’m more than willing to show you how capable I am.” It came out as a whisper as you turned away from him and began padding down the structural webs. Miguel was on high alert, you could notice as every glance felt as if he was trying to convince himself that no other member of his society occupied this part of Headquarters. He followed you close behind, claws digging into the beams of construction to reach the same floor as you without a word. The brooding silence that usually met your company could be sensed from any person in their right mind, and as you spotted the hesitation in each thud of his footfalls– confusion clouded your anger. So in a flurry of adrenaline, you webbed his next step to the ground with a ball of the substance you artificially produced in the depths of your makeshift and cozy lab, hidden away at your home in the world you desperately needed to save. It would give you time to finally just talk to him.

“¿Eres estúpido o qué? Do that again and I’m putting you in the–”

It wasn’t to hold him down, you know you couldn’t match his strength. It was to make a statement. 

You interrupted him, a newfound determination holding onto the little hope you had. “You follow me for one more second, I’m going through that portal and never looking back.” Brutally honest and uncharacteristically serious, the attempt at ripping his limb free was cut cold at the promise looming in the air. His frown fell for just a moment’s notice, mouth agape in shocked horror before quickly recovering himself. Repeating yourself more clearly as his attention was occupied, your body shined away while shaky fingers struggled to input the coordinates of your universe. But eventually it clicked, the AI voice of Miguel’s beloved Lyla sounded throughout the tension in a glitchy mess– notifying Miguel of the portal to-be seconds before it truly distorted the fabrication of reality in front of you.

Miguel dropped to his knees, struggling to claw off the web that had his foot planted to the structure. His breath quickened concerningly, shoulders heaving as the plan of his crumbled in front of him in an instant; all because he was not observant enough. You played him like an instrument like you always had, a pained groan from the back of his throat sounded and echoed throughout the space of the vast headquarters. “No, no, no..” He repeated, mirroring the despair you had on your features moments ago at the idea of not being able to save your people. You could never once recollect a fraction of a second where he allowed himself to convey the pain plaguing his mind, and as he reached out to you in a frantic heap of limbs– the walls of protection he hazardously built around himself came crumbling down by each shape contorting and twisting into a gateway to your world. “I can’t, I can’t lose anybody else–”

You stood there, heart breaking as the man who has had villains three times your size on their knees, collapse into fragments of himself at the mere idea of you leaving the security of his universe. Bursts of color painted the dark hues blotching upon white, igniting his fresh-tear stained cheeks in splashes of reds and yellows and greens. The portal was completely open, awaiting your entrance to return back to your familiarity– yet your senses buzzed alarmingly at each step away from Miguel. It’s almost as if you could feel the hole in his chest, searing away his soul he finally allowed himself to offer like a god’s offering.

You fell to your knees to hold his face in your suited hands, the waves of sorrow and grief infesting your mind like a sickness almost had you doubling over in pain. You could hear the cries of hundreds around his, no– your own heavy breathing, a confused and fearful little girl’s pleas for help overlapping the muddled screams. You felt the weight of a child in your hands before it was ripped away like a paper airplane in the wind, and soon your trembling hands met the purchase of his nape. Your body moved automatically, holding his face in the comfort of your lap while you shielded his gaze from the portal. Despite his power, the capability to snap you in two, you held him like a fragile doll that would break within any mishap.

“All this time, you never told me.” You sobbed into his hair, dampening his combed back curls with your tears and he only held your waist like you were the anchor in this unforgiving ocean of anguish. You have become one, the memories of his own mixing into the blur of yours's.

“I didn’t know how to.” He murmured into the purchase of your thigh, wetness seeping into your suit. But you didn’t care as your hands wandered all over his figure: a soft massage to the shoulders before quickly scooping his neck into your arms before finally settling on petting his hair back. “I, I haven’t allowed you to go to your world because a part of my thoughts can imagine your arms fading into a technicolor mess, falling into the clutches of another failed universe.” He forced himself to take a deep breath, gulping up air as the portal behind the both of you fizzled and popped.

“I can’t lose you too. I’d be so–” He hesitated, breathing in deeply just to choke on a sob. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.” He poured out the burdens weighing on his conscience, confirming your long-forgotten wonder that he was just as emotional when he was faced with his grief head-on; the same intensity seen in his short-tempered anger.

You simply hushed him, cooing reassurance that he accepted with greed. “Nothing is going to happen to me.” The rational fear being expressed aloud made your shoulders shake and head buzz with anxiety, but you steeled yourself at the reminder of Miguel melting into your tearful embrace like putty. You needed to be strong for him when he wasn’t, just like how he pushed himself to the greatest extent his body can endure all the times before. 

“It’s just, I can’t lose where I come from.” You worked at ridding his foot from your webs as your serene tone accompanied his sniffles, his breathing settling out bit by bit as you continued to finally explain yourself. In regards to Miguel's quietness, you genuinely thought he was listening. “You can’t keep me away and shield me from my own mistakes, O’Hara. It’s just not possible, I need a home to thrive and protect. Without my people, I’m going to disappear as well.” A snap of your webs trapping his limbs finished your little speech, indicating that time was up and you had a job to do.

“I’m.. worried.” He mumbles aloud, like the sentence itself was foreign on his tongue. “These creatures from foreign worlds, they are drawn to your universe as if there’s a pulling force. I haven’t been able to figure it out. It’s so infuriating, it’s like I can’t do–”

You intercept his little tangent as you grab his chin and lift his gaze to meet yours’, an unsaid question hanging into the atmosphere like an old letter to a former self. Do you want this? Is this okay? I’m scared of messing this up.

The question is answered as Miguel’s grasp finds purchase in your flesh, claws digging into your thighs like if he let you go you’d fade along with everything else of his. In a messy, salty clash of teeth against fangs and tongue against lips, Miguel lapped up every inch of your mouth like he had to memorize every crevice of your entire being. It’s as if the two of you have synchronized, being able to suspect slight changes in each other’s mood as he grew more needy with the introduction of desire bubbling against the forefront of your mind.

“We can do this.” You murmured into his cheek, hands dancing over his suit in case this was the last time you’d ever be blessed with his presence again.

Miguel nodded, heaving for breath before he snatched one last kiss– sincere and genuine and full of unfiltered affection. “Yeah,” His nose met the crook of your neck, grazing each curve it stumbled upon.

“Together, mi alma.”

[mitchellpete]

Kinktober Day 21 - Deepthroating

pairing: tom “iceman” kazansky x f!reader

cw: deepthroating, blow jobs, face-fucking, cum swallowing, established relationship

word count: 1578

kinktober masterlist here.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

-

It’s a Saturday night. A still fairly early Saturday night, and you’ve got nothing to do. The house had been swept clean hours before, dinner cooked, leftovers stashed away in the fridge, and you’d taken a long, long shower before sprawling out on the sofa next to Tom, who didn’t seem to mind the silence. He relished in it, in fact, his attention fully on the large, thick textbook in his arms. Paying you and your weary expression absolutely no mind.

His impending achievements were important. Understood. He was so close to getting promoted, had been talking about the ceremony, how it would be the first you’d attend by his side. You can’t remember when exactly his studies began to consume him, alienating him from you just the slightest. He’d read during dinner, in bed, during a movie. Jotting down notes, twirling his pen in between his fingers. Always focused, always persistent. 

But that can’t be healthy, right? Being so goddamn focused all the time? 

It is a Saturday night, after all.

“What’ll it take for you to put that textbook down?” you wonder aloud, tossing the remote after flipping through (probably) every channel on the television.

Tom half-glances at you, but resumes his reading almost immediately. “Why?”

You stretch, your mind racing with ideas on how to make him yours tonight. “Hm, I don’t know. You’ve been reading a lot lately.”

“I need to,” he reminds you, voice a little stern. 

Okay. 

“Well. I’m sure you’ve read enough tonight, no?” 

“The more the better.”

Christ. You stare at him, at the focused peak in his eyebrows as his eyes trail left-to-right. A flip of the page, fingers dancing along the edge. You watch them, eyes set on the sparkle of his ring in the dim lighting. A mischievous idea pops into your head, born out of your sudden desire. “What if I blow you?”

Tom does not budge, doesn’t even shift in his seat. His eyes continue scanning his page, though his eyebrow cocks at your outlandish question. “What if?” he mocks.

You internally groan. But you’re still eager. “I bet you’ll put it away once I get my mouth on you,” you sing. 

Tom smirks, always up for a challenge. He still does not glance your way, however, instead flicking his attention to the next page. “If you say so.”

Grinning from ear to ear, you crawl over to him and slide off the couch into the wide space between his legs. Tom’s face still remains locked and focused, even when your grabby hands reach for the waistband of his sweats. You gingerly pull them down, bringing his boxers down with them. 

You’re quick about it when you dip your head down, tongue planting against the soft skin of his cock. It’s fast but gentle, easy. The corner of his lips curls for just a second at the sudden sensation, but he tries to remain unbothered. A challenge for you. 

It starts off languid, short strokes of your tongue up and down his shaft. You let your spit bubble up in between your lips, wet suction noises suddenly filling the room as you slick him up. His cock twitches, growing hard against your tongue. Tom’s lips part, shallow breaths escaping. You glance up, batting your lashes at him for dramatic effect. 

After kissing and sucking against the long vein on his dick, his eyes above you eventually stop trailing left-to-right, instead staying still on one part of the page, and then jumping to another.

“Lost your place?” you mumble, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses against the underside of his shaft. 

Tom finally looks at you, eyes flicking down to the sight of your mouth working his now hardened cock. He doesn’t say anything, instead stares at you from under his eyebrows, his gaze almost brooding. You’ve won, and he knows it. 

Still, as stubborn as ever, he clears his throat and attempts to continue. Another page flip directs you; your mouth slides up to wrap around the tip, actually taking him into your mouth. You watch him, watch his shallow breathing turn sharp. He sucks in a breath when you start bobbing your head, fingernails turning red from gripping the textbook so harshly. 

It’s a minute later that he snaps it shut, tosses it aside on the cushion and grumbles something under his breath. You pull off of him momentarily, smiling slyly at him.

Intent on taking him in as deeply as you can, you try your best to relax for the very significant intrusion. Your head dips down again, your mouth enveloping inch by inch until you feel him in your throat. Despite taking him in as much as your mouth allows, there’s still a length of his shaft untouched, and you wrap your hand around where your mouth can’t reach. It’s almost dizzying, taking him in this much. It seems he feels the same, his face contorting in pleasure, fingers drumming against the side of his thigh. Like he’s trying to find use of his now free hands. 

You’ve done this before. Twice, was it? Practice, he’d called it. He’d coaxed you through it the last time, filthy words edging you on as he helped you train your throat. That’s why it’s not as difficult now. And still, your mouth feels stuffed, and it’s already almost like you can’t breathe. You try to stay collected, however, breathing out through your nose. Just little by little. 

After a minute, his fingers slide into your hair. He starts moaning, quiet and breathy from the back of his throat.

In contrast, you start gagging, his cock poking at your uvula. You pull up just a bit to alleviate yourself, his shaft sliding across your tongue. You’ve gotten better at taking him in to that point, but you’re still not entirely used to it. After another minute of swallowing around him, you pull off of him with a staggering gasp for air, chest heaving. The saliva pooled on your lower lip drips, coating your chin. You instinctively reach to wipe at it but Tom cuts you off, his grip on your hair pulling you down again. You nearly yelp when your tongue slaps over his cock once more, and he pops himself back into your mouth with a shallow thrust of his hips. You suck in a breath the best you can before your airway is constricted again. 

There’s nothing gentle about the way he pushes himself inside, eager to press against the back of your throat once more. Your watery eyes dart up to watch him. His lashes flutter, eyes lidding in pleasure. Hisses turn into little whines, which then turn into loud, elongated moans. You mimic him, moaning around him, and he groans as it shakes him. 

Tom continues shallowly thrusting his hips, overtaken by his own desire. The wet heat of your mouth is heavenly. He might just toss the textbook for the entirety of the next week.

The sounds coming out of you are strangled and choked out, his cock way too big to be rutting into your mouth like this. Even at his languid pace, it’s almost all too much. Your hand reaches, fingernails digging into his thigh as a warning, and he pulls you up and off of him again. It’s not at all sexy the way you gasp for air, saliva dripping down your mouth. Tom stares at the sight of your lips, coated and shiny and puffy. 

Out of breath, you’re still determined to make him cum, and you lean down yourself to take him in again—hopefully for the last time before you get him there. Instead of swallowing around him, you opt to actually slide up and down his cock, making use of your tongue. It’s close to numb from the continuous movement but you power through, allowing your mouth to salivate as much as you can to make the process smoother.

With a string of groans, Tom cocks his head and leans in close to watch his cockprint in your throat, how it moves with every shallow thrust of his hips. 

Tears sting your eyes, threatening to spill. You continue to gag and gasp around him, his grip on your hair dependent on the noises. He pulls you up just the slightest the noisier it gets, and then lets you bob your head for a while longer. You get the idea to stroke him where you still can’t reach, and that seems to do it; he cums with a loud groan, head rolling back as his release shoots down your throat. You pull off immediately, urgently in need of air for more than a few seconds at a time. The last of his cum spurts out onto your lips and face. You swallow what he spilled inside you, wiping all the slick off your lips afterwards.

He exhales, swiping a hand through his hair before leaning down and wrapping a much gentler hand around your arm. He pulls you off your knees and onto his lap, where you immediately straddle him. You wrap yourself around him, mouth slotting against his for a kiss. He kisses you deeply, his tongue poking in between your lips, licking into the cave of your mouth. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him. 

You’d almost forgotten you were supposed to be catching your breath when you pull away.

You sniff, throat burning. Your voice hoarse, you mumble, “I missed you.”

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

I can't think of a title for these clone wars headcanons

Ahsoka does this thing that never fails to get a laugh out of the people around her and it’s the fact that she calls herself an angel whenever someone calls her out for doing something bad or reminds her of something she’s done she’ll look around before going “Who me? I’m an angel”

Which has the whole group bent over laughing hysterically sometimes they’re able to choke out a sentence that sounds like “Jedi aren’t supposed to lie” or something along those lines 

So I’ve had this idea for a while but I feel like something along the lines of sign language would be necessary for the troops to know if they’re on a stealth mission 

And even tho the Jedi don’t need to sign with each other it’s kind of common practice for them to learn some to communicate with the troops

Some signs can differ from troop to troop but they’re close enough that they’re easy to understand and it’s very rare that the other troop will get confused 

Sometimes those signs will leak off the field and into their day-to-day lives most of the time the troops will use signs to be kind to their Jedi who have migraines after a difficult battle but the signs are used the most around Anakin

I feel like it would be pretty easy for Jedi to get overstimulated especially if they’re as powerful as Anakin so it’s not uncommon for him to go nonverbal after a battle or if he’s in a force rich place

If he’s only kind of overwhelmed he’ll use Ahsoka and Obi-Wan as his interpreters and talk through their bonds but sometimes even that is too much so signs like “please” “thank you” “sorry” “hungry” “thirsty” “more” or “I’m okay” become pretty commonplace

It’s not enough to hold an in-depth conversation but that usually works in Anakin’s favor because drawn-out conversations tend to make him nonverbal for longer periods

When Anakin Ahsoka and Obi-Wan are stressed it shows up when they’re asleep 

Anakin sleep talks whenever he’s even slightly worried about something he’s woken poor Ahsoka and Obi-Wan up more times than the duo can count by saying stuff like “Hey hey are you awake?” while he’s out like a light

It freaks the duo out because he’s weirdly eloquent in his sleep bro is holding entire conversations do those conversations make sense to anyone but him? No but they’re conversations nonetheless

Ahsoka sleepwalks it doesn’t matter what happens during the day if it even slightly stresses her out she’s up and out of bed the second she’s slightly asleep it scared the force out of Anakin the first time she sleepwalked in their quarters because she was just standing over him menacingly 

The first time Obi-Wan was introduced to Ahsoka’s sleepwalking was during a sleepover that the trio was having and he had just drifted off to sleep when he heard the buzz of two lightsabers in the other room

Both he and Anakin walked into the kitchen to find Ahsoka standing with her sabers activated she wasn’t in a fighting stance by any means so they could easily disarm her but all Anakin did was ask “You want water snips?” and she nodded while holding out her sabers which he easily grabbed

Only after Ahsoka had a nice glass of water and laid back down did Obi-Wan ask questions the main one being “Is that normal?” and Anakins replies “Well the sabers are new” like someone talking about the weather 

It wasn’t until morning that the trio discovered Anakin and Ahsoka’s kitchen table was cut in half the togruta was incredibly apologetic but Anakin was just impressed that she managed to do it without waking them

Normally Obi-Wan snores like a lawn mower but when he’s stressed he grinds his teeth the real kicker is he grinds them so hard that it’s just as loud as the snoring and the only difference is the poor man wakes up with a sore locked jaw

One time Anakin heard a shiny say that they could never tell what Ahsoka was thinking and the other commented that she’s “like a vault” which had him doubled over in almost painful laughter 

When one of them finally gained the courage to ask him what was so funny he just said “If you wanna know what she’s thinking look at her face” and he’s not wrong girly has the most expressive face it’s like looking at glass

But the people who love her hope that trait never changes cause there’s nothing quite like seeing her face twist as she has to talk to some dirtbag or light up when she gets a compliment 

Recently I got some ideas when it comes to Clone Wars characters and baking

Anakin is one of the best damn cooks in the galaxy he’s also really good at making a meal out of virtually nothing it’s scary impressive but on the other hand the man can’t bake for shit

Cause with cooking measurements aren’t really needed in fact on Tatooine people would scoff if you asked for them but it’s kind of the opposite for baking unless you’ve been doing it for a very long time

So Anakin “Just pour it until it looks good” Skywalker hates baking with a burning passion which is funny because he’s got a sweet tooth the size of a gundark

Ahsoka’s only really used to cooking by Anakin’s side which results in her only really remembering half the recipe like girl can mince like no one else but she can’t make a full dish without calling Anakin to ask for help 

But baking is where this girl thrives she loves to bake and try new recipes which works out because Anakin’s the human equivalent of a garbage disposal with the aforementioned sweet tooth

Cody is pretty proficient at cooking and baking he doesn’t do anything fancy and he doesn’t really like doing either he mostly learned out of necessity cause

Obi-Wan and Rex can’t cook or bake for shit and they’re perfectly fine with that fact like they’re a-ok with living off government rations if it means they never have to step foot in a kitchen 

Padme sweet angel lovely girl thinks she can cook and bake can she….. No

But the thing is she tries so hard and puts her whole heart and soul into her cooking and baking so everyone tries to act like she can it’s the galaxies best kept secret and it’s one that everyone’s happy to keep

There was one time when that secret was almost spilled on Ahsoka’s birthday when Padme offered to make her cake and no one could warn the poor girl cause that would spoil the surprise party

All Anakin could do to rectify the situation was buy a cake from his and Ahsoka’s favorite bakery and hide it in their quarters after the party

During the actual party Anakin pulled her off to the side to warn her just before the cake could be brought out and from an outsider's perspective it looked like a sweet moment between the siblings 

But in actuality all was going on this “Soka you know how you said I was the best master you could ask for” “Yes I said it when I first walked in are you finally going senile” “Well remember all that love when I ask you for the biggest favor” “which is?” “Padme made your cake” “No” “And I need you to act like you love it” “Anakin please if you love me at all” “If you love me you’ll eat the cake and tell her you love it and once the parties over you’ll get to eat your favorite cake in the whole wide world”

And they kind of just sit there and Anakin swears a few tears fall before Ahsoka says “Fine” and he hugs the everloving force out of her before they walk over to eat a slice of the galaxy's prettiest abomination 

[yanderemommabean]

*longingly stares at my google docs*

"where did the love go?"

[sonnyaavce]

I NEED HELP IN A SMALL QUESTION

As I’m currently writing the next part of mockingbird (Damian and Danny brothers au!) I had come across a small roadblock

I have two ways I want to finish the prompt:

Let Damian honour his brother with the Batfam with a small altar in Wayne mansion.

Let Damian and Dick have a brotherly moment and paint Danyal and Damian in a nice family portrait.

So, that’s why I wasn’t able to upload anything, I have a very heavy roadblock (ADHD isn’t helping my case btw) because I want to do both but I know I will burnt out by proxy.

So , I need some of your help please, how can I approach this? And which one to write/publish it?

[boredsoup]

Look at your couch, it is homo-baroque! 🗣️ Don't talk to me about taste! 🗣️

[feelingthedisaster]

me looking at all those writers saying they didnt write anything in two days or their word count of day is really low when i havent written anything in a month

[sstar-ggirl]

The Lights shine brighter when you’re there.

Pairing: Alex Turner x AFAB!reader (but u can read as wtv u want)

Word count:1081 (this ain’t a blurb ts a fic atp😭💀)

Summary: filming for TBHC, 2018 era, super cute fluff shit

Mars rambles abt things: AIGHT SO I NEED THIS MAN TERRIBLY BAD. ESPECIALLY TBHC ALEX😭. Anyways I wrote a cute little fluff fic for the first time in forever bc I had time(FINALLY) anyways I’ll try to write as much as I can.

The set was abuzz with anticipation as Alex Turner prepared to film the music video for his latest album. Surrounded by a team of producers and filming crew, he couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement for this particular project. The album was a supposed to be “a playful tune, super smooth but makes you feel expensive”he said when you asked about it. It carried a personal touch that resonated deeply with him – and he had the perfect person to share the screen with, his girlfriend, you. His most prized possession, something he wants to show off forever.

As the cameras started rolling, the set was transformed into a mesmerizing, eye catching jazz bar. The director, recognizing the unique connection between Alex and you, aimed to capture not just the essence of the song but also the genuine emotion shared between you two. The first scene unfolded in a dimly lit but well decorated jazz bar, the air heavy with the lingering notes of the melody.

Alex, dressed in his signature 70s style, met you in the center of the set, dressed in a tight black dress with a long slit in the side, black heels with gold accessories. There was an unspoken understanding between you two, a silent agreement to let the music guide the movements. As the haunting notes filled the room, you two moved with a fluidity that spoke of a deep, unspoken connection. It was more than just a regular dance; it was a dance of the heart.

The director, observing from behind the monitors, couldn't help but marvel at the chemistry on display. The raw emotion conveyed through his and your expressions painted a vivid picture of love and longing. The first scene wrapped, leaving everyone on set with a sense of anticipation for what was to come.

During a break, Alex and you found a quiet corner to steal a moment away from the commotion. You two shared a deep hug and kiss, acknowledging the magic that was created by you two. As you two broke from the kiss, Alex couldn't help but express his gratitude for having you by his side.

"(Y/N), you brought something special to this video, in fact this whole album – something only you could inspire. It's like the songs, the lyrics, the melodies come to life when you're here, or at home or sitting in the studio waiting for me to wrap up. You are truly the muse for my art." he confessed, his eyes reflecting sincerity.

You grinned and blushed, "Well, I happen to think your music brings out the best in me too, Alex. This is a great masterpiece in every sense."

As the day progressed, the scenes became more diverse, each one telling a different chapter of the song's story. From a rooftop overlooking the casino to a dimly lit jazz bar to the pool setting, the couple seamlessly transitioned from one setting to another, their connection intensifying with each passing frame.

The highlight of the video was a sequence where Alex and you found yourselves dancing under a canopy of fairy lights. The soft glow accentuated the tenderness in your movements, creating a visual poetry that mirrored the song's emotional depth. The crew watched in awe as the couple moved through the enchanting scene, your silhouettes etched against the twinkling lights.

As the day drew to a close, the final scene approached. The director wanted to capture an intimate moment between Alex and you that would serve as the emotional climax of the video. The setting was a quiet, candlelit room – a metaphorical space where their love could unfold without any distractions. A safe haven that hides all troubles and shows your true self to eachother.

The room was adorned with vintage furniture and flickering candles, casting a warm glow on as you two stood face to face. The soft strains of the song echoed in the background, creating a cocoon of intimacy around you. The director, satisfied with the day's work, whispered instructions to the cinematographer, signaling the start of the final scene.

With a subtle nod, the cameras began to roll, capturing the delicate nuances of the couple's expressions. Alex gently reached for your hand, his touch conveying a silent reassurance. His eyes locked, and in that moment, the world outside the set ceased to exist. It was just the two of them, immersed in the emotions the song evoked.

As the lyrics unfolded, Alex sang with a soul-stirring resonance, his voice intertwining with yours in a beautiful harmony. The vulnerability in your eyes told a story of love, heartbreak, and the unspoken promise of togetherness. The director, realizing the magic happening before him, chose to let the scene unfold organically, without interrupting the flow.

The room seemed to disappear, replaced by a realm where only your emotions mattered. Alex's thumb traced gentle circles on your hand, a silent gesture of comfort. Your closeness spoke volumes, transcending the scripted nature of the scene. It was a genuine moment, an unfiltered expression of the love they shared.

As the last notes of the song lingered in the air, the director called for a cut. The crew erupted into applause, acknowledging the authenticity and beauty captured in that final scene. Alex momentarily pulled out of that intimate bubble, shared a knowing smile, proud of the art you two had created together. You couldn’t stop staring at him falling deep in love within each second.

With the filming wrapped, the couple found themselves outside the studio, bathed in the soft glow of the evening. The air was crisp, and the city lights twinkled in the distance. They walked hand in hand, reflecting on the day's journey.

"I can't believe we did it," you exclaimed, your eyes sparkling with a mix of joy and exhaustion. Alex grinned, "It was magical, wasn't it? Having you by my side made it even more special. You’re really a present full of surprises aren’t you"

Later on, after leaving set, you two continued to stroll through the quiet streets, savoring the post-production bliss. The city seemed to have slowed down just for them, allowing them to relish the shared triumph. The music video, a testament to their love and collaboration, was destined to become a visual masterpiece.

Days later, as the video premiered to the world, fans and critics alike were captivated by the palpable chemistry between Alex Turner and you, (Y/N) (L/N). The comments flooded in, praising not only the song but also the genuine connection that elevated the video to a realm beyond ordinary music visuals.

In interviews, Alex and you shared snippets of their experience, emphasizing the organic nature of the collaboration. The music video, now a symbol of their artistic minds, resonated with audiences on a profound level, leaving an indelible mark on the hearts of those who watched it.

As the applause echoed and the views skyrocketed, Alex couldn't help but feel a sense of fulfillment. His journey- no Your journey together, from the studio to the screen, had not only produced a beautiful piece of art but had also strengthened the bond between eachother. The music video became a cherished chapter in your love story, a visual representation of the magic that happens when two hearts beat in perfect harmony.

[writingwarden]

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Male!Reader

TW- Being stabbed, blood, canon typical violence

Word Count- 1.2k

Prompt- "Can someone make the ground stop moving?"

Warden Writing Masterlist💚

[CALLSIGN- HYPNO]

[A/N- Need more Gaz/Male Readers fr]

“Pushing into the office now.” You shout into your mic, hands numb from the cold air of winter and the constant shaking of your rifle as enemy after enemy fell in your path. 

The warehouse finally clear of hostiles as you rush up the metal stairs to the top floor. Adrenaline courses through you and the rusted metal door slams open under the force of your shoulder. Two men turn to you with their guns raised but you’re faster. You’re moving before the bodies hit the ground. Kicking the door shut behind you to hopefully buy yourself some time.

The 141 had been tracking this part of a terrorist cell for months after a series of arsons and murders that were too similar to ignore. This was it. There is chatter over the comms as you flip through manilla folders. The words between Price and Gaz don’t register as you shove everything that looks of importance into your backpack. The computer screen flashes in the corner of your vision. The laptop and its intel were the target.

The computer sat on the metal table surrounded by folders and scattered maps now splattered with blood.

You turn and hunch over the computer to begin your work. Attaching the flash drive as you start to scour through enemy files. Anxiety grips you as numbers and names fill the screen. Targets, dates, weapons manifests, it was all here. In the back of your mind you scold the enemy for making such important information so easily accessible. Your team would smoke you if you had ever left something like this so carelessly in the open. 

Footsteps thunder across the floor below your position. The files were nowhere close to being finished, you would have to hold this position until they were. This was information that you could not afford to lose. 

Down to your last mag and you would need that for your escape to the evac. You let loose an annoyed groan and raise your hand to the radio on your vest. “Hypno to Bravo-Six, I’m cornered in the office, gonna need some backup.” 

There is a moment of silence before Price’s voice crackles through, “We can’t son, they’ve got us bogged down near the trucks.” Shit. 

Grabbing the laptop off the table and sitting it carefully on the ground; you crouch behind the table and prop the rifle on top. Taking in a deep breath as the door bursts open. Three men rush in, carelessly firing off shots in your direction. When you squeeze the trigger the first man goes down smoothly, falling into the one behind him. 

This gives you just enough time to fire at the fumbling enemy soldier, the second man falls just as the first. Blood coating the concrete floor. 

The third man’s bullets pelt the table and ground around you. Curling into yourself as the bullets fly so close you feel the heat on your skin. One successfully grazing your upper arm as you attempt to fire again. 

Sending up every curse in your mind as your gun jams. Moving quickly to unsheath the knives on your belt as the barrage of bullets stops and you hear the click of an empty gun. Not letting him get the time to reload you jump the table and send a knife flying. The man screams, dropping his gun and reaching for the knife now lodged in between his shoulder and throat.

As you watch in disbelief the man rips the blade from his skin, not hesitating to charge at you. Swinging upwards to block his swing, knocking his arm down and away from your face. But the man doesn’t give up. He instead stabs downwards. Your own knife now embedded in your thigh as the one in your hand sinks into the man's chest.

The man slumps forward, forcing the knife further into his chest. A wheezing sound punched from his chest. Blood trickles down coating your glove as you push him back. The body hits the ground with a heavy thunk, dragging the knife in your leg downwards. The knife tears through the skin as it clatters on the concrete. 

Ignoring the tingling sensation and heat quickly spreading through your leg, a pop up on the computer's screen draws your attention. A text message? No, A full conversation was being typed out before your eyes.

BREACH- They’re SAS.

BREACH- What do you want us to do?

The most recent message is what sends you into motion. Grabbing the now complete flash drive and shoving it into your front pocket. Slinging your bag over your shoulders and sprinting out the door, jumping over the dead. 

ATLAS- Burn it down.

Blood pumping in your ears as you run. The wooden crates that had provided you cover were now burning. Flames spread to everything as you rush across the warehouse floor. Smoke threatens to choke you as you reach the loading dock doors. 

Jumping off the platform results in your legs giving from under you and you slide across the icy asphalt. You can’t stop here, scrambling to your unsteady feet you stumble forward. Adrenaline courses through your veins as you run for the trees. Branches tug at your clothes and snow seeps into your boots. 

Shouldering through the brush reveals the team standing surrounded by dead soldiers. Blood staining the clean white snow. Your sudden appearance has them raising their guns at you before recognition sets in. 

“Bloody hell Hypno.” Price says, stepping in your direction. 

You shuffle forward, the blood covering you growing cold while heat continues to spread down your leg. A look crosses the two men's faces as you get closer. 

“Where’s that blood coming from?” Gaz’s eyes frantically comb over your form. The pair stands in front of you, why were they blurry?

Your vision swims as you turn to face Price, ignoring Gaz’s question. “Captain, they're… Oh shit can someone make the ground stop moving.” Your knees buckle and then your face is slamming into the hard snow. A searing pain shoots from your leg through your body on impact. 

Despite the freezing temperatures there's sweat on your brow. Hands are on you then you're facing the sky, a panicked looking Gaz pressing his hands to the bleeding wound. His mouth is moving but the words don’t reach your ears. 

Lifting your gloved hand to his arm makes him look at you, then your eyes close.

… … … … … … … 

“Doctor is saying that it barely missed your femoral artery.” Gaz sits beside your hospital bed. His hands are wrapped around your own as he places a kiss on your palm. 

You had woken up in a haze, bright lights blinding you before you realized where you were. According to Gaz you had only been out for around seven hours after arriving back at base. The trucks had been set ablaze so your team had to be airlifted out of there. 

Other than the stab wound you had several bruises and were borderline hypothermic. 

You smile at him, “Yeah well, you should have seen the other guy.” Gaz lightly smacks your chest, clearly not amused with your joke. 

“Remind me why I’m dating your dumbass.” He says with a straight face, trying not to smile. 

“Because of my handsome face.” you reply with an equally straight face but can’t help it and a wide grin splits across your face. Gaz looks away and shakes his head but you can see the corners of his mouth upturned. He turns back to you and leans in, placing a quick kiss on your lips. 

“Sure, we’ll go with that.”

[A/N- Sorry if this seems off, trying to push through a very tough writer's block. Feedback and Reblogs are always encouraged!]