I Need A New @ Name. This One Kinda Ugly Now

I need a new @ name. this one kinda ugly now🧍🏾‍♀️

I FOUND IT AAAAAAAHHHHH

I NEED HELP!!

i read this imagine on here of scoups and can not find it or remember the persons @ where i read it from

y/n and scoups are friends and she was talking bout how she never came from her bf so scoups helped her. that is all i can remember

if u know what im talking about PLEASE lmk

#53 with Seungcheol please! 🥰

oops, perhaps i went a little overboard with this….. putting most of it under a cut

mafia au | words: 1.2k | warnings: violence, gore, emergency medicine

53: the relief of fatalistic recklessness

Seungcheol is going to kill you, you think, unless you manage to die first.

His left arm is looped around your back, gripping painfully against your cracked ribs, while his right hand holds your arm in place around his shoulders. The morphine shot messily administered in the getaway car just moments ago is starting to take effect, blurring the edges of the pain cutting into your chest with every labored intake of air that you can manage to pull into your battered lungs. Seungcheol half carries, half drags your limp body up the stairs to the safe house. He somehow manages to disarm the security system and unlock the front door, despite not having free hands, and then you’re on the floor, propped up against the wall.

“What the fuck,” Seungcheol hisses, locking and bolting the door behind him, “were you thinking, taking on all of them alone like that? You could have died, easily!”

Dazed, you bring your good hand up to the opposite shoulder, which had been so cold just moments ago. When you pull your fingers back, they’re covered in blood. Belatedly, you realize it’s your blood.

“You’ve been shot, by the way.” Seungcheol grits his teeth, raking hair out of his face. “You need to stay alive until it’s safe to take you back to home turf.” You hear the sound of fabric tearing as Seungcheol cuts through the couch cushions on the sitting room sofa in search of the hidden emergency supplies. A 6mm pistol. Bullets, more than enough. A burner phone. The med kit.

“I’m not dead,” you mumble, your tongue heavy.

“What?” Seungcheol turns, and even through the haze, you can recognize the sheer terror in his eyes shining through the carefully-arranged scowl on his face.

“You said I could have died,” you groan, shifting to sit against the wall. “I’m not dead yet.” You grin blithely, blood in your mouth, gunpowder on your tongue.

“Lay down,” Seungcheol growls at you, returning from the emergency stash with bandages and gauze. He kneels beside you and grimaces. “Sorry about this,” he mutters as he grips the bloodied fabric of your shirt and slides his switchblade through it, a long cut down the front so he can remove it without making you move your arms.

“Christ,” he mutters, inspecting your torso. There’s the bullet wound in your shoulder, the blooming dark red-black bruising across your ribs, the slight jut of broken bone pushing against skin, and a single deceptively small puncture wound on your fifth intercostal space, presumably the injury that had collapsed your lung.

“My shoulder,” you remind him with a slurred mumble, already drifting again. “Pressure, Cheol. Stop the bleeding. ‘M dying, remember?”

“Right.” He grimaces as he works, roughly spraying the area with antiseptic before pressing a pad of gauze down on the wound. When he applies firm pressure, despite the morphine, you can’t help the way your body seizes and writhes, your lungs rasping for air, your vision momentarily disappearing into fuzzy black splotches. You can hear ringing, high and sharp.

“—ay with me,” you hear through the buzzing in your ears, “fuck, you there? Stay with me, please,” Seungcheol’s voice pleads, strangely distant and tinny. You blink, once, twice, and then you see him again, bright-eyed and pale, scared, the boy who had saved you off the streets all those years ago, not the spectre of death that he is today.

You must be delirious, you think. “You look so young,” you mumble through a mouthful of blood. He had been barely more than a child back then, already more grown up than he should have been. You were a child, too, when you took your first life. The rest would come in time– the money, the power, the ragtag team that would come to look toward Seungcheol as their leader. But you remember him as a frightened boy, hands slippery with blood and gore while he struggled to reload a pistol, his back turned to your broken body like he was trying to shield you from the world.

There’s swearing, the bang of a door slamming open, but you can’t seem to hold on to the sounds. They slip through your fingers like sand, like water. Your eyes are open, but you can’t seem to see what’s happening, only able to watch as blurred shapes move above you. Cheol, you try to say, your mouth making the movements, but you’re not sure if the sound comes out. Cheol-ah, where are you? Where are we?

“I’m right here,” you hear his voice rising to the top of the din. Someone squeezes your good hand, and it’s him, you realize, when you recognize the rings on his fingers, the calloused palm, hot against your cold skin. “Stay with me, alright? Just a little bit longer. You can’t die on me, remember? You promised.”

There was a promise once, two children on the streets, bloodied knuckles, you looping your pinky with his. We promise to always stick together, to always have each other’s backs.

“-an’t find a pulse,” you hear someone else saying. Something about going into shock, something about circling the drain. You hear the words emergency transfusion. A small part of your mind screams, that’s Jeonghan’s voice, you know him, you know Jeonghan, because before him, you had been the medic. You remember late nights talking to him, bundled up in ratty coats, shared dreams of medical school before your talents were redirected to the barrel of a gun.

“Needle decompression,” you wheeze, not sure where the strength to speak is coming from. “Got a pneumoth..pneumothorax.” You blink. Your pupils are dilated and your eyes won’t focus, everything is a bit too bright and blurry, but you think you know what you’re seeing. “That’s right, get a large-bore IV catheter. Left side, mid-clavicular line. Use a glove as your valve.”

“Stop talking,” Jeonghan snaps at you, his voice trembling. You hear a quiet hissing noise as the pressure in your thoracic space releases, and when you try to suck a breath in, you feel your lungs expanding. Painful, sharp, shuddering breaths, but you can breathe. “Good,” you hear Jeonghan say. “We’ll be back in five minutes. I’ll get a chest tube in you then, alright? And I’ll have to intubate you. You’re stabilizing now, so I’m going to give you more morphine, alright?”

“Cheol,” you mumble, eyes shifting to look around, but not seeing anything other than vague blurry colors.

“He’s on the phone. We’ll get you to the ER tonight.” Jeonghan squeezes your fingers.

“One of ours?”

“Don’t worry, it’s been arranged.” That’s Seungcheol’s voice, you know. You suck in another breath (painful, nearly blinding) and turn your head in his direction.

“‘M not dead,” you slur as the morphine enters your system again. “Single-handedly took out twelve men, and I’m still not dead. Told you I could do it, Cheol,” you grin. And then, you’re laughing, as much as you can with the hole in your lung, the thick needle lodged just above your third rib maintaining pressure.

“Fuck,” Seungcheol chokes, collapsing to the ground next to you, his face in his hands. He lets out a short bark of laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. “Fuck,” he gasps as his shoulders shake, from sobs, from laughter, you’re not sure. “Fuck.”

I love that sooonnnggggggggg😭😭😭😭 no cause who gave her the right. Now we're just here fangirling like there's no tomorrow 🤣

and is🤭😭😭. got me over here bout to listen to it

y’all,go fuckin read this shit 10/10

Seventeen: Welcome to Caratland Masterlist

(header by the lovely and talented @cozynochu​)

Summary: The night before Halloween, you and your 13 friends decide to go explore the infamous abandoned amusement park: Caratland, where it’s rumored that rides start on their own, empty mascot suits are seen walking around, and people don’t return the same as when they left. Can you and your friends survive the night in Caratland?

a/n: this is going to be an interactive au that’ll be partly a text au and partly a normal au (as far as i have planned because it’s not 100% done yet). THERE WILL BE MURDER AND/OR IMPLIED MURDER, PEOPLE GOING MISSING, POSSIBLY BLOOD AND GORE (ALL MAJOR CHARACTER, OBVIOUSLY). this is a horror au for halloween so read at your own risk (and yes its heavily inspired by five nights at freddy’s but minus the dead children)

Welcome to Caratland Tag

SEVENDREAM (my other interactive svt horror au)

»»————-　　————-««

Intro 1

Intro 2

Intro 3

Intro 4

Intro 5

Intro 6

Intro 7

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

End

I NEED HELP!!

i read this imagine on here of scoups and can not find it or remember the persons @ where i read it from

y/n and scoups are friends and she was talking bout how she never came from her bf so scoups helped her. that is all i can remember

if u know what im talking about PLEASE lmk