#*bloody sweaty heavy breathing swearing man

[andy-clutterbuck]

8x05 | The Big Scary U

#but you could put me in one #Rick Grimes #* #rg #S8 #sweaty curls were the best ones #love me a sweaty heavy breathing man #*bloody sweaty heavy breathing swearing man #it's a pointless statement but they should have sworn more #not cartoonishly....but well placed swear words just ass flavor #plus it's the apocalypse but ya know america #would rest my face in his dirty neck #excuse me but The Nose™ #that bottom lip is illegal #even in the apocalypse #me as the bag strap #please roll me into the nearest ditch

[unknownjpegs]

cute

He finds the wounded soldier in the thin alley of a downtown city turned war zone. There is the steady firework like sound of guns in the distance, his fingers swiftly turning down the crackling comm at his shoulder—mingled with the unstoppable and terrifying atmosphere of radianites somewhere, fighting. Smoke makes the otherwise bright mid afternoon sun a dull, lifeless corpse in the sky. No clouds. Just the smear of two universes colliding for one resource that is worth the scattered destruction.

Xavier stands at the mouth of the alleyway as the soldiers stares at him. His hand is sealed over a wound at his hip. There isn’t enough blood that it’s lethal—maybe. Unless he can’t get up, find cover, or be rescued by whatever team he might have left when Xavier’s unit is done. He’s not injured, but the evidence of fighting is still there. Dusty rubble on his all black gear. There’s a rip over the side of his black balaclava, red hair poking out like an outburst of fire. His arms are sore, but the sledgehammer is tied neatly to his back again.

Jesus, he thinks. I want to go home.

“Fuck you,” the solider barks, surprisingly sturdy with it. He’s aiming an empty handgun at Xavier. He only knows it’s empty because he’s been staring at this soldier for a long minute, watching as he fumbles out an empty medic bag, as he checks the slide on his handgun, as he slaps the heel of his palm to his forehead and swears under his breath. His accent is muddied and rough. For a while, Xavier’s been trying to place it—he’s pretty good at that. He likes geography.

Glass from a broken window crunches underneath his heavy boots as he walks down the alley. There is a distant sssss like a smoke grenade has been released. The sky lights up briefly green, but the smoke is downwind. Avoids them. The soldier twists a bit, raises the gun more—he’d have an accurate shot. He’d get Xavier right in the head—he has to respect that. Not useless then, just abandoned. Bloody in an alley. Medic used all his medic supplies on others.

Xavier stops only a few footsteps away, his own rifle in his hands. Not aimed yet.

“Well? Fuckin’ do it then—coward. Dickhead,” the wounded one snaps and throws the gun. It hits Xavier in the shoulder, clattering against the ground. In the hazy smoked out sunlight, the enemy looks washed out and exhausted. Sweat makes black curly hair cling to dark brown skin. There are deep bruises underneath big, pretty eyes. The cement beneath him is dark red, smudged, with the way he’d sunk down. He doesn’t look small, even though Xavier is standing at his full height and the enemy is sitting. Injured.

“Need help figurin’ it out, arsehole? The little trigger there, you just aim up that stupid fuckin’ rifle—”

“Do you ever shut up?” Xavier asks, his gloved hand tearing off his balaclava. His sweaty, messy hair sticks up in all directions. His skin is wet with the perspiration, so he wipes a palm across his face. He’s smiling too, that big, nasty wolf like grin that has earned him so much of a reputation. It’s too wide on his long face, shows too much of his teeth.

“Your mum,” the downed soldier snips coldly. His eyes narrow suspiciously, his hand briefly unsealing from his hip wound. He turns pale at that—which makes Xavier wonder what his skin might look like flush and full of life and blood and energy. The hand presses down again.

“Mum,” Xavier imitates as he rips the pack from his side. He approaches and kneels swiftly. There’s a distinct shhhhhk sound and he feels the cold press of a blade to his exposed throat. For a brief moment, the survival instinct pressing inside his skull from some ancient, never lost caveman era has him thinking of violence. Slamming the man forward, wrenching the knife, breaking a wrist.

Instead, he continues to unzip his pack. The knife doesn’t move. His eyes glance up briefly and his smile curls wider. The soldier is staring at him, pupils dilated so wide he looks drugged. Xavier tilts his head to the side somewhat, clicks his tongue.

“You know,” he pulls materials out the bag. “I’m shitty at this.”

“Yeah? You look it, mate. Why are you—”

Xavier wraps a hand around the others wrist, slowly pulls it away from the injury to his hip. He can’t see too well with the gear, plastered to the skin, glued by the tacky, drying blood. He scoots closer and feels the knife slowly slide away. He doesn’t pay it any attention as he gently (he hasn’t been gentle in a long time) peels up the under shirt to reveal a deep and unfortunate knife wound.

“Oh,” he says. “Wow. That fucking sucks.”

“It’s missed the important bits.”

“You don’t say,” Xavier says with a lurid, sarcastic drag of his eyes south of the wound. He wiggles his brows a bit—and is stunned when the soldier laughs. It’s a bitten off sound accompanied by a groan, a hand moving back to the wound. Xavier gets closer still. The smell of sweat and blood and gunpowder is overwhelming, when he should be all too used to it. The distant fighting seems to die away at the sound of the man breathing. He uses his teeth to rip into an alcohol pad and start cleaning at the wound.

Silence falls for a moment. Silence except their breathing. Then—

“Xavier,” he says, tearing open the fancy skin-like pad that covers wounds, keeps them clean. Promotes healing; this level of advancement has always unnerved Xavier. He slowly uses his palm to cup and squeeze it over the soldiers hip. His hand stays there for a moment. Maybe longer than a moment. If he didn’t have his glove on, they’d be skin to skin like that.

“Benji.”

“Really?” Xavier smiles again, brows turned upward.

“What?” His hands are suddenly shoved away, the enemy soldier trying to adjust himself against the wall. His cheeks have more color to them then, a little pinch of a dark red, splotchy and high on his cheekbones. His dark brows tuck together and the menacing sit of his lips is a sneer—but he’s pretty. He’s very pretty, even when he’s staring at Xavier like that. He has eyelashes too long and full. A dark curl sticks to his cheek.

“Just—it’s a cute name. I guess. Wasn’t expecting it.”

He stands then. Xavier is willowy tall, all legs. He puts a hand to the wall, leaning his weight there a bit. He casts a shadow down on the soldier, the sun behind him. He stares down as Benji stares up.

“Guess I’ll see you around, Benji,” he says, with a cocky wink.

“We probably shouldn’t,” the soldier replies.

“No, I got a feeling, you know?” Xavier walks backward as he talks, unslings his rifle from his shoulder. He checks it, inspects the chamber, glances out the end of the alley. More green has appeared in the sky, smearing the view. “Plus, I’m recognizable now. No one forgets a ginger.” He points to the mess of red, sweat damp hair.

“Red heads aren’t my type, mate.”

“Man, bullshit. Red heads are everyones type.”

The crash sound of something big and heavy has Xavier retreating without another word. All fun depleted as he sets himself to running toward the rest of the fighting, at a savage and hard pace. His hand, shaky and awkward turning his comms back on.

That was the last of his supplies.

#writing #hj #valorant au #bp #xw #this one.......... #bp x xw

[elliesirlgf]

Mutual Feeling. Pt.7

Ellie Williams x Fem!reader

A/N: …Hey…I forgot about this series honestly….It’s returned though! Let’s hope I don’t take another month or two to make part 8!! I know this should be longer since I haven’t continued this in forever,but I’m working on the next chapter right now, I swear.

Warnings: Angst,Spoilers,Major character death,Mentions of weed,Some dialogue is straight from the game, I did Ellie dirty fr.

You groaned,The snow outside getting even heavier if anything. You needed to stay with Ellie longer than you needed to,Which wasn’t something you wanted to do,Especially with how pissed you were at her,But you two wouldn’t make it a mile out there,so you had no choice.

Walking back down the stairs,You only seemed to notice how exhausted you were,Rubbing your eyes the whole trip down there. You stepped back into the ‘weed farm’ only to hear a loud noise coming from upstairs. Immediately,Ellie looked towards the door to find you standing there,Looking confused as ever. Your first instinct caused you to immediately draw your gun as you worried infected were now waiting for you. ‘But how? You were sure you locked and closed the door,and no windows were broken when the both of you had gotten inside.’ You walked up the stairs slowly,your back to the wall as your breathing became heavier,and your forehead getting sweaty. You were prepared to shoot at the first thing you see when you rounded the corner,but instead heard a voice calling out for….You.

“Y/n? Ellie?”

Jesse.

You called out to him immediately as he rushed over to you,A look of worry on his face. “You’re alright..” he sighed out in relief. “Where’s Ellie?” He asked,His voice sounding extremely concerned. “…Downstairs. Why? What’s going on?” Jesse started to freak you out,His breathing was heavy and the man looked like he had just gone through hell and back. Jesse completely disregarded your question as he walked—Pretty much ran downstairs. You followed behind him, your heart racing at what his next words would be. “Ellie.” Ellie’s snapped to jesse’s, a concerned look on her face. Your mind was flooded with a million questions, but there was just one you needed to ask. “Wait- Jesse, why aren’t you at the lookout?”

“Because Tommy and Joel didn’t show up!”

The room went silent for what felt like hours. Your breath hitched as you looked at Ellie, her face twinged into an expression that was unclear. Her eyebrows pinched together as she stood up. “What do you mean?” “We waited for them for an hour. ‘was looking for their horses when I saw lights.”

You knew. You knew this wasn’t gonna end well, and your stomach tightened at the thought.

Which led you here; Shaking Ellie’s limp and bloodied body. “Ellie? Ellie, wake up. Come on..” an expression of sadness poured into your face, Fearing the worst. What else could you think when Joel was just a bloody pulp behind you? You couldn’t even glance at the man, You saw enough when you walked in the room. You continue shaking and shaking and shaking until finally she woke up. “Ellie…I’m so sorry…” Ellie’s salty tears rolled down her cheeks as she choked back a sob, Continuing to stare at Joel’s lifeless body. “No…” she whispered, completely disregarding the pain that stung all throughout her body. “Jesse they’re down here!” You yelled, rubbing Ellie’s back to comfort her the best you could. That’s what she needed right now. Comfort.

And Revenge.

Tags: @iriecourtney here you go!! I hope you enjoyed, Part 8 will be incredibly longer!!

#elliesirlgf #lesbian #ellie williams #thelastofus2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #elliewilliams x femreader #tlou part two #the last of us #the last of us part two #tlouangst #tlou2 angst #angst

[hauntedjpegcollection]

coward

wc: 1286 au: valorant au ch: xavier, benji

He finds the wounded soldier in the thin alley of a downtown city turned war zone. There is the steady firework like sound of guns in the distance, his fingers swiftly turning down the crackling comm at his shoulder—mingled with the unstoppable and terrifying atmosphere of radianites somewhere, fighting. Smoke makes the otherwise bright mid afternoon sun a dull, lifeless corpse in the sky. No clouds. Just the smear of two universes colliding for one resource that is worth the scattered destruction.

Xavier stands at the mouth of the alleyway as the soldiers stares at him. His hand is sealed over a wound at his hip. There isn’t enough blood that it’s lethal—maybe. Unless he can’t get up, find cover, or be rescued by whatever team he might have left when Xavier’s unit is done. He’s not injured, but the evidence of fighting is still there. Dusty rubble on his all black gear. There’s a rip over the side of his black balaclava, red hair poking out like an outburst of fire. His arms are sore, but the sledgehammer is tied neatly to his back again.

Jesus, he thinks. I want to go home.

“Fuck you,” the solider barks, surprisingly sturdy with it. He’s aiming an empty handgun at Xavier. He only knows it’s empty because he’s been staring at this soldier for a long minute, watching as he fumbles out an empty medic bag, as he checks the slide on his handgun, as he slaps the heel of his palm to his forehead and swears under his breath. His accent is muddied and rough. For a while, Xavier’s been trying to place it—he’s pretty good at that. He likes geography.

Glass from a broken window crunches underneath his heavy boots as he walks down the alley. There is a distant sssss like a smoke grenade has been released. The sky lights up briefly green, but the smoke is downwind. Avoids them. The soldier twists a bit, raises the gun more—he’d have an accurate shot. He’d get Xavier right in the head—he has to respect that. Not useless then, just abandoned. Bloody in an alley. Medic used all his medic supplies on others.

Xavier stops only a few footsteps away, his own rifle in his hands. Not aimed yet.

“Well? Fuckin’ do it then—coward. Dickhead,” the wounded one snaps and throws the gun. It hits Xavier in the shoulder, clattering against the ground. In the hazy smoked out sunlight, the enemy looks washed out and exhausted. Sweat makes black curly hair cling to dark brown skin. There are deep bruises underneath big, pretty eyes. The cement beneath him is dark red, smudged, with the way he’d sunk down. He doesn’t look small, even though Xavier is standing at his full height and the enemy is sitting. Injured.

“Need help figurin’ it out, arsehole? The little trigger there, you just aim up that stupid fuckin’ rifle—”

“Do you ever shut up?” Xavier asks, his gloved hand tearing off his balaclava. His sweaty, messy hair sticks up in all directions. His skin is wet with the perspiration, so he wipes a palm across his face. He’s smiling too, that big, nasty wolf like grin that has earned him so much of a reputation. It’s too wide on his long face, shows too much of his teeth.

“Your mum,” the downed soldier snips coldly. His eyes narrow suspiciously, his hand briefly unsealing from his hip wound. He turns pale at that—which makes Xavier wonder what his skin might look like flush and full of life and blood and energy. The hand presses down again.

“Mum,” Xavier imitates as he rips the pack from his side. He approaches and kneels swiftly. There’s a distinct shhhhhk sound and he feels the cold press of a blade to his exposed throat. For a brief moment, the survival instinct pressing inside his skull from some ancient, never lost caveman era has him thinking of violence. Slamming the man forward, wrenching the knife, breaking a wrist.

Instead, he continues to unzip his pack. The knife doesn’t move. His eyes glance up briefly and his smile curls wider. The soldier is staring at him, pupils dilated so wide he looks drugged. Xavier tilts his head to the side somewhat, clicks his tongue.

“You know,” he pulls materials out the bag. “I’m shitty at this.”

“Yeah? You look it, mate. Why are you—”

Xavier wraps a hand around the others wrist, slowly pulls it away from the injury to his hip. He can’t see too well with the gear, plastered to the skin, glued by the tacky, drying blood. He scoots closer and feels the knife slowly slide away. He doesn’t pay it any attention as he gently (he hasn’t been gentle in a long time) peels up the under shirt to reveal a deep and unfortunate knife wound.

“Oh,” he says. “Wow. That fucking sucks.”

“It’s missed the important bits.”

“You don’t say,” Xavier says with a lurid, sarcastic drag of his eyes south of the wound. He wiggles his brows a bit—and is stunned when the soldier laughs. It’s a bitten off sound accompanied by a groan, a hand moving back to the wound. Xavier gets closer still. The smell of sweat and blood and gunpowder is overwhelming, when he should be all too used to it. The distant fighting seems to die away at the sound of the man breathing. He uses his teeth to rip into an alcohol pad and start cleaning at the wound.

Silence falls for a moment. Silence except their breathing. Then—

“Xavier,” he says, tearing open the fancy skin-like pad that covers wounds, keeps them clean. Promotes healing; this level of advancement has always unnerved Xavier. He slowly uses his palm to cup and squeeze it over the soldiers hip. His hand stays there for a moment. Maybe longer than a moment. If he didn’t have his glove on, they’d be skin to skin like that.

“Benji.”

“Really?” Xavier smiles again, brows turned upward.

“What?” His hands are suddenly shoved away, the enemy soldier trying to adjust himself against the wall. His cheeks have more color to them then, a little pinch of a dark red, splotchy and high on his cheekbones. His dark brows tuck together and the menacing sit of his lips is a sneer—but he’s pretty. He’s very pretty, even when he’s staring at Xavier like that. He has eyelashes too long and full. A dark curl sticks to his cheek.

“Just—it’s a cute name. I guess. Wasn’t expecting it.”

He stands then. Xavier is willowy tall, all legs. He puts a hand to the wall, leaning his weight there a bit. He casts a shadow down on the soldier, the sun behind him. He stares down as Benji stares up.

“Guess I’ll see you around, Benji,” he says, with a cocky wink.

“We probably shouldn’t,” the soldier replies.

“No, I got a feeling, you know?” Xavier walks backward as he talks, unslings his rifle from his shoulder. He checks it, inspects the chamber, glances out the end of the alley. More green has appeared in the sky, smearing the view. “Plus, I’m recognizable now. No one forgets a ginger.” He points to the mess of red, sweat damp hair.

“Red heads aren’t my type, mate.”

“Man, bullshit. Red heads are everyones type.”

The crash sound of something big and heavy has Xavier retreating without another word. All fun depleted as he sets himself to running toward the rest of the fighting, at a savage and hard pace. His hand, shaky and awkward turning his comms back on.

That was the last of his supplies.

#writing #xw #bp #xw x bp #valorant au

[strawberryspotsstuff]

HEY GIRL (GENDER NEUTRAL) *LEANS AGAINST WALL* HENRY ANON, THE MENACE OF THE HOUR, IS BACK

WHAT IF,,,,,,,, reader is like best friends with jack and henry is like "this mf" and kills jack BECAUSE hes jealous and hes like "nooo y/n i didnt just kill jack, i killed him for YOU !" and reader is like wtf you did what and is hashtag traumatized aka ,,, another yandere one bc i have an addiction and yk what im not ashamed of it (jk im a little ashamed)

BROOO ITS MY FAV ANNON.

why are you so funny!!!!!! :')))))) (i laughed many time reading that)

Anywayss, I, myself like horror/gore, so for views who might be triggered, so there is mentions of blood, death/murder, swearing. Viewers discretion advised.

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Yan!Henry x reader x Jack

You froze in shock, horror, your throat went dry and shrivelled. Your eyes widened, as your hands went to cover your mouth. Your body shook, as goosebumps spread across your arms and legs, you finally let out a wail, dropping on your knees.

Jack was crumpled on the tiled floor of the Fredbear's Diner kitchen, blood seeped into the cracks, the crimson coloured blood was splashed along the walls, handprints of restrain dragged across the countertops. You could see his limbs in the flickering, broken lights, were contorted in ways that were unnatural.

"Y/N" The melodramatic, deep voice echoed throughout the room. You rubbed your eyes frantically, standing up, your pants now stained.

"YOU MONSTER" You wailed into the air.

Henry strode forward, his nicely ironed suit now stained and splattered with blood.

"Y/N, please listen. I didn't just kill him. I killed him for you, because I love you." He purred, stomping forward, leaving bloody footprints on the floor.

"stay away from me" you growled out, retreating to one of the kitchen's cabinets, frantically pulling out an array of knives, shakily swooping one up and holding it in front of you.

His head titled, smiling as he held his palm on his cheek, chuckling.

"Please, I would never hurt you, just people in my way. You have to understand I was jealous of your connection with him and not me."

"JEALOUS? YOU KILLED A MAN, BECAUSE... BECAUSE OF FEELINGS?" You shrieked, your face shifting into a state of shock and horror.

he nodded happily, blissfully, as he tried to approach you. But like lightening you bolted out of the kitchen, dropping the knife as you whispered 'sorrys' under your breath to Jack as you passed him, uncontrollable tears spewing from your eyes.

You made it to the front doors, you were a mess. From the sweaty, and greasy hair, to the blood soaked clothes and muddied boots. You banged on the doors, wailing.

You could hear his heavy footsteps as he made his way to you, you frantically trying to break the locks on the doors. Fuck, you should have just stayed home, let the police find about it. Why would you even look for Jack?

You looked around, running as fast as you could to the "EMPLOYEES ONLY" Room, bingo. There was a back door there.

"get back here, Y/N, please let me explain"

"YOU HAVE EXPLAINED PLENTY" You shouted, your adrenaline pumping through you as you pushed yourself to the heavy metal doors, pushing your way through and with all your might you squeezed your way into the room and slammed it shut, locking it.

Your heart was ramming onto your ribcage, sweat pooled down your neck as you gave yourself a chance to breath. But it didn't last long as you heard the banging of Henry's fist pound onto the doors.

"open up, sunflower." he growled, rattling the door handle.

You didn't listen, nor did you want to answer him, fuck this. Your flight started up again and you bolted to the back doors, and clumsily pushed your way through.

It was the dead of night, the cool and refreshing night air picking up and tickling your back. But you kept moving, running to your car and yanked open your car door. You just wanted to find Jack, make sure he was safe.

Jack like staying in the later hours, making sure no kids tried to steal pizza toppings or random balls from the ball pit. He did that every night, what changed? you stayed with him, talked, laughed with him. Maybe that's why Henry acted out, thats why he... killed him.

You sobbed as you drove off, making sure to drive as far as you could, your house was a no go, so you just drove. Where? Who knows. Just out of this town. You did not want to witness the aftermath of, that.

Nor did you want to see his face again.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

wowie um, what did i just write. flushes.

but please tell me if i should dial it up or down for the future. ((i was on the fence if i should have wrote henry killing jack, so, i wasnt quiet sure.. but if people are more comfortable with that, please tell me!))

#strawberrycow writes #Yan!Henry x reader x Jack #tw: blood #death/murder #swearing #i was listening to SOS while writing this :sobs: #yandere!henry series

[im-in-vin-ci-ble]

Hello~ Can I request a Mark x fem reader who’s a lot like starfire and is very Powerful close to omni man and is also an alien princess but she lives on earth and they go to the same school and she’s also a solo hero who one day sees invincible fighting off a tough villain with the teenteam but is losing so she steps in to help and he recognizes her and starts getting all nervous since he has a crush on her and then after that they introduce themselves get to know each other and eventually work they’re way up to mark confessing and she says yes :3

(If possible can it be a slow burn im a sucker for slow burn tropes and stuff 😤)

A/N: I gotchu, this bout to be a lil long 😮‍💨 making the fem!reader a little more human, figured since she’s in an actual school for humans she’d need to adapt to the humor/culture so she doesn’t get suspicious

Pairing: Mark Grayson x Fem!Reader

Rating: M, some swearing and gross monster guts

Warnings: N/A

Summary: Mark is finally joined in battle by an alien princess who has caught his attention. Turns out she goes to the same high school, and if he can throw around 150-pound monsters across the street, surely he can confess his true feelings to a girl... right?

"Are you fucking kidding me right now?!" Rex Splode yelled as he wobbled up off the ground. "We've been on this thing for hours and it only has one damn cut!"

"Calm down Rex," Atom Eve said from behind, "You're gonna get even more tired from yelling."

The two watched as Dupli-Kate attempted to distract the scaly kaiju, replicating herself second after second to give space for Invincible to hit the monster by surprise. The kaiju's screech echoed throughout the city and shook the foundations of the surrounding buildings, forcing Rex, Atom Eve and Robot to move aside and save however many civilians they could.

"Invincible," Dupli-Kate shouted, "I can't keep up much longer!"

A sonic boom overcame the surrounding noise and Invincible appeared from the clouds. Dropping in at maximum speed, the young superhero balled his hand into a fist and took a deep breath. A loud battle cry escaped his mouth but it was cut short as the kaiju's heavy arm slapped him away just in time, throwing him through destroyed buildings until he landed on the pavement.

Out of breath, dizzy, and in a serious amount of pain, Invincible laid on the broken road for a second to regain his strength. The wind softly blew down on him as he focused his sight on a contrail leading towards him, and he watched as a girl in purple land right next to him.

She bent down and held him upright, "Invincible, are you okay?"

"Mmhmm," Invincible croaked with a defeated smile, "Totally fine."

His sight reverted back to normal and the first face he saw shocked him alive. It was her. They never talked in school and he was almost sure she didn't know his real name, but here she was, basically cradling him in her arms and calling him Invincible.

So she knows who I am. At least with the suit.

"Come on, that kaiju is about to be destroy the entire city," she said, helping him get back on his feet and flying away to the seemingly unbeatable figure.

He huffed, "Stay cool, Mark. She's here to help," and he followed suit.

This marked the first time he really interacted with the new superhero; he'd only ever see her on TV or read about how she saved people on the newspaper. He'd be lying if he said he didn't find her attractive — as do most guys his age — but watching her blast the kaiju with the green bursts of energy from her hands made her only even more appealing.

Invincible regrouped with the rest of the Teen Team. "I don't know what else we can do to this thing," Atom Eve admitted.

"I do," the girl spoke up. "Distract it as best as you can but stay far away from the stomach. When I tell you to take cover, make a run for it."

Robot replied, "That seems highly dangerous."

"Let's do it," Invincible quickly replied in a high-pitched voice.

Everyone looked over at him, surprised at the sudden change in his voice and just how fast he reacted in agreement. 

"Uh, it's a good plan," he nodded, causing the girl to shoot a warm smile his way. "I definitely think we should do it... if all of you... uh, think, we should."

Exhausted and out of options, the rest of the group followed her orders and took different corners of the monster. Dupli-Kate handled one leg, Rex Splode handled the other, Robot and Atom Eve took the arms, and Invincible went back to the head. The kaiju struggled to keep its focus on just one of the heroes, and while it remained preoccupied, the girl absorbed all the energy she could muster and flew straight for the stomach.

"Take cover, now!"

Invincible and the Teen Team moved away and they watched as the flying hero's eyes opened in a bright shade of neon green, both her arms extended out as a large ball of green formed around her hands. The rays exploded right through the kaiju and it shrieked in pain as she briefly disappeared into the stomach. The kaiju lost balance and slowly fell forward as the girl, her eyes still green, appeared on the other side and harshly fell down on the ground.

The kaiju landed on the street with a loud boom and the group ran towards the girl who was now covered in parts of the kaiju's digestive system.

"Okay, that's kinda gross," Rex Splode commented, to which Dupli-Kate quickly responded, "Shut up."

Invincible dropped down on his knees and wiped the blood and guts off her face. Subtly admiring her facial features up close, he couldn't believe (and almost felt stupid) that he never recognized her despite the fact that he almost saw her everyday.

The girl groaned in agony softly shook her head, her eyes fluttering open to the sight of Invincible's dark hair, goggles and yellow mask.

"Hey, hey," he whispered, "Are you alright?"

She sat up and hissed at her injuries, holding her head with her bloody hand. "Mmhmm," she gently nodded with a half smile, her eye one still shut. "Totally fine."

---

Mark had a hard time focusing on school. His body ached from yesterday's injuries and he suffered a few bruises from literally tearing through buildings. He made his way to his locker and rested his head on the metal door, dreading the fact that he still has an entire afternoon of classes to go. Closing his eyes in hopes to quickly recharge, his moment of peace was disrupted when a shoulder rammed into his chest and several books landed right on his toe.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry," a voice exclaimed.

Mark's head snapped up at the sound of the voice. It's her. He momentarily froze and watched the girl bend down to pick up her things, and when he finally regained movement a split second later, he also bent down to help her out. He kept quiet as he tried to think of the coolest possible response to make her think that he was actually the coolest guy in school, but all he could think of was how heavenly and badass she looked yesterday.

"Thanks," she said as he handed her the book. "I hope your foot doesn't bruise."

They both stood up and he shot her a nervous smile. "T-totally fine," he replied, clearing his throat afterwards.

She crossed her brows at his response and nodded, and a look of suspicion replaced her worried demeanor.

"I'm Mark, by the way," he cleared his throat again and reached out his hand, "Grayson."

"Mark... Grayson, huh?" she responded, scanning his face as her suspicion grew. Her eyes finally landed on the hand that was waiting, and she took one last look into his eyes before deciding to shake it. "I'm Y/N," she introduced herself with a skeptical smile, feeling his sweaty palm wrapped around hers. "I'll see you around, Mark Grayson."

She walked away and Mark's eyes followed her trail as far as he could see. He quickly pulled out his phone to send a text to Eve, who was actually watching their interaction a few classrooms down.

"Mark," Eve called out as she moved towards him. “So I’m assuming...”

"You knew?” he asked her in disbelief. “Why didn't you tell me Y/N was a superhero? I just introduced myself to her as Mark Grayson and I'm almost positive she knows I'm Invincible."

"First off, it's not my secret tell," she answered with a shrug. "Second, you guys didn’t trade secrets or whatever?”

Mark shook his head in a panic, "No, but I'm guessing she also knows that I know her secret the same way I know she knows my secret." He rested his forehead on the locker door once again and groaned, "Ugh, I'm so into her, it isn't even funny. And this whole superhero thing just made it even more awkward."

Eve laughed, "Look, I'm not going to force her to tell you if she isn't up for it, but if you want, I can ask her to hang out with us later. Maybe — emphasis on maybe — my presence will make her comfortable enough to admit who she is."

"Okay, okay," he sighed, turning around to rest the back of his head. "My insides are dying."

"After the kaiju yesterday, be thankful you don't mean that in a literal sense."

---

Where in the hell is Eve?

Mark pulled out his phone for the third time in 10 minutes. Still no call or response from Eve to his text. He was getting evidently nervous; his palms were sweaty again and it felt like someone turned up the heat in Burger Mart. His left leg jerked up and down in anxiety as he stared at his phone, looking at the seconds on the clock icon tick by. If he were left alone with Y/N, he'd have no idea what to say. What does she like? Should I bring up the kaiju yesterday and praise Invincible? No, she'll just think I'm full of myself.

"Hey Mark."

He jolted and saw Y/N standing by the corner of the booth. "Hi!" he replied in that irritatingly high-pitched voice. Mark's heart began to race and the thoughts in his head ran wild. "Um... Have a seat. Sorry Eve isn't here yet, she actually hasn't answered my calls or my messages. Teenage girls, huh? What can you do?"

She crossed her brows again and chuckled, "That's fine, we can wait for Eve. But I think I'm more concerned about you."

"What do you mean?"

Y/N chuckled again, "You seem... nervous.”

He faked an obnoxiously loud laugh, “Me? Nervous?”

She watched him from across the table in silence, waiting for him to regain his composure.

When Mark couldn’t hear Y/N laughing with him, he finally shut up and shook his head. “Yeah, I am nervous, sorry,” he admitted, shutting his eyes tight. 

She giggled, “Totally fine.”

Hearing her say those two words calmed his racing heartbeat. A smile crept on his face and she reciprocated, their eyes locking for a few seconds before both their phones buzzed.

“Oh, I just got a text from Eve,” Mark said. 

“Me too.” She opened the message and began to read it out loud, “Sorry, can’t make it tonight. Something came up.”

“Have fun, you two,” he followed, his voice faltering. He placed his phone, screen down this time, back on the table and sighed, “Sorry, guess you’re stuck with me. That is, if you do want to stay and... hang out, and stuff.”

"Why wouldn’t I?” she replied, her warm smile easing Mark back into a relaxed state. “It’s nice to have a friend who...” she trailed off, “understands.”

“Understands what?” he asked.

“This thing people like us call life,” she answered. “You know, it took me a long time to acclimate here. I didn’t think I ever would, then I met friends who made this place feel like home. And home is a feeling I hadn’t felt in a really long time.”

Mark rested his elbows on the table and leaned in closer, “Well, I’m always here. You know, a-as a friend... or an acquaintance, even. I don’t, I don’t want to push it.”

Y/N giggled again, “You’re a funny man, Mark Grayson. This planet is lucky to have someone like you.” She reached out and held his hand, “And I’m even luckier to have you as a friend, or an acquaintance.” 

He felt the heat rush to his face and he could swear his heart nearly jumped out of his chest. The afternoon flew by in a hurry as they engaged in lengthy conversations, fatty fast food, and childhood stories. While Mark was open to sharing every tiny detail — down to the color of the bleachers at the park where he played little league — Y/N kept hers pretty vague, leaving out descriptions of family members and even the places where these stories happened. 

Mark’s phone buzzed again, but the vibrating pattern indicated it was a phone call. He turned the screen over and saw the unknown number; it was time to suit up.

“Shit, I’m sorry Y/N, but I need to go,” he said in a rush. “I have a... uh, an emergency.”

You couldn’t have thought of anything more specific?

“It’s cool. Um, don’t worry about it,” she said, shaking her head with her eyes glued to the vibrating phone. 

Mark’s one leg was already out the booth before he decided to finally just go for it. Sitting back down with his now quiet phone in his hands, he took a deep breath.

“Y/N, I think you’re really cool. Can I maybe, like, call you sometime, or something?”

Her lips formed into smile that extended to her eyes, and it was enough for Mark to melt a little. “Of course. Yeah, sure,” she replied in excitement and typed down her number on his phone. She handed it back, “Now you know how to reach me if you’re getting your ass whooped again.”

His mouth fell open as his shaky hands grabbed his phone. “Wait—”

She smoothly slid out of the booth, “See you later, Invincible,” she winked, “Don’t get killed today.”

---

Luckily for Mark, no one got killed today. Maybe a few wounds here and there, but nothing painful enough that will land him in the GDA hospital. After spending an hour in the shower, he finally managed to lie down on his bed and rest his body. He sank into the mattress and closed his eyes, taking in the seconds of undisturbed peace that have become rare moments since he got his powers. 

As he replayed the events of today’s fights in his head, his mind drifted off to the hours he spent with Y/N. He pulled out his phone and mustered the courage to press the dial button, and the repeating sound of the ringing was making his pulse race. 

“Hello?”

“Oh good, you didn’t die today.”

Mark chuckled and sandwiched his hand between his head and the pillow. “It wasn’t that bad today, just took a few hits,” he explained. “So listen, Y/N, I was wondering, uh—”

She cut him off, “What are you doing right now?”

“What?”

“What are you doing right now?” she repeated.

“Um, nothing, just getting some rest” he sat up and looked around. “Why?”

“If you’re not too tired, do you maybe...”

Mark smiled, “Maybe...?”

“I don’t know, sneak out? My roof is pretty comfortable.”

Silently fist pumping, he fully stood up and nodded, “Text me the address.”

Just as quietly as he exited his room via the window, he softly landed on Y/N’s roof. Swiftly flying up and greeting him, she took the place next to him and crossed her legs. 

“You’re right, your roof is pretty comfortable,” Mark said.

She chuckled at his remark then noticed a gash by his right temple. Her brows furrowed in worry, “You have a wound,” she said, making sure not to touch it.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, softly holding her hand and placing it back down with his. “Totally fine.”

Those words brought her some sense of comfort as her eyes softened, causing her to unconsciously squeeze his hand. Mark’s eyes widened and he looked down at their tangled fingers, frozen for a moment.

“Is this... okay with you?” he asked.

She nodded. “Wanna lie down? Since my roof is so comfortable?” she asked with a smirk.

“Sure,” Mark chuckled, removing his hand from her’s and stretching his arm out as they lied down. Y/N rested her head on his shoulder, keeping her eyes up at the stars.

“Hey Mark?”

“Yeah?”

A moment of silence.

“Thank you for coming.”

He looked down at her as she met his eyes, “You’re welcome.” 

The two shared a smile, and Mark took a deep breath as he prepared himself for the words that were about to come out of his mouth.

It’s now or never, Mark. Now or never.

“Watching you kick ass yesterday was... really a sight to see,” he began. “You’re powerful and strong, but more importantly, brave. And you’re so fucking beautiful and kind and smart and...” Mark trailed off, sighing, “I never thought I would be in this position — with you next to me in a very comfortable rooftop under the stars.”

“Mark...”

“And I really like you. Like, really, really like you.”

“Mark.”

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, but I just wanted to let you know. It’s important that you know—”

“Mark,” she cut him off. “I like you too. A lot.”

He breathed a sigh of relief and covered his eyes with his free hand. “Oh thank god. Thank god!” he exclaimed.

Y/N shushed him, “You’re gonna wake up the neighborhood, Invincible.”

“Sorry,” he giggled quietly, “I got excited.”

She laughed and faced her body towards him. They locked eyes again, and Mark didn’t know if it was gravity or just the adrenaline that pushed him, but he finally leaned down and met her lips. Static ran through his body as he deepened the kiss, and he felt an excitement that was even more exhilarating than the first time he flew.

She pulled away and Mark ran his hand through her hair, resting his hand on her cheek. “How was that?” he asked.

She smiled gently and placed her hand over his, “Totally fine.”

#sorry this turned out way longer than expected #mark grayson x reader #invincible x reader #mark grayson #invincible fanfiction

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

More the Merrier

Pairings | Steve Rogers x reader, Sam Wilson x reader, Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings | smut, swearing, Bucky being a literal SEX GOD, oral (m and f receiving), fingering, p in v, p in a

Word count | 2813

Summary | you and Bucky get a little freaking during a training session. Steve and Sam want to join.

Masterlist

Sweaty strands of hair dangled over your eyes, the sweet burn stinging against them when the sweat dripped off. Your fists held tight in front of you, wrapped perfectly with a now tinged-grey bandage and a glossy sheen coating your skin. Bucky stood before you, cocky smirk on his lips and hair framing his face from where it has fallen out of the bun at the back of his head, fists held high before a punch is landed to your stomach. The force sends you falling back, butt colliding heavily with the floor and a groan slipping from your lips.

"That's the last time, James." You warn, rubbing your sore ass as he helps to to your feet - the metal of his hand a welcome coldness against the searing heat of yours. Your fighting was not the best, to say the least, and you usually relied on your powers. Bucky offered to help you - but so far he all but knocked you on your ass every five minutes, even after three weeks of training.

"Let's take a break." Buck decided, chucking your water bottle over at you which you barely caught in time before it would've gone flying into your face. You sent a glare his way and Bucky chuckled, throwing his head back and gulping down his own water - Adam's apple bobbing and drops running down his chin and over his throat. You subtly rubbed your thighs together, attempted to ignore the gush of arousal that flooded between them as you slowly dipped at your drink.

"Let's go again." You said definitively, back in stance and ready to fight. You threw a heavy punch, but Bucky merely caught it in his open palm, twisting until your back pressed against his solid chest. Heavy breathing reverberated in your ear, the hotness of his breaths making your cunt tingle and a shiver wrack down your spine.

"You okay, doll?" A husk in your ear, and you were a goner. A lewd moan escaped you as Buck cupped your clothed core with his flesh hand, the metal one encasing your throat. "Seems like you need my help." He smirked against your cheek, placing a few kisses there before he was ripping your leggings straight from you. If it had been anyone else you would have protested, seeing as they were your favourite leggings, but this was Bucky, so you merely let out a gasp and dropped your head back on his shoulder. "Fuck, so wet already, Doll." Bucky mumbled, fingers slipping past the waist band of your panties.

A wanton moan spilled from your lips when his fingers made contact with your pulsating clit, rubbing it in tight circles as you gasped. You could feel him smirk against the skin of your neck at your reactions, wet and open-mouthed kisses quickly turning to nips and bites that made both you and the super soldier groan.

"Shit, James." You sighed and a small growl escaped him when you used his name. He let his middle finger slip lower, tracing your wet slit before dipping ever-so-slightly into your heat. He hummed in approval when you clenched around the tip of his digit, before slowly sliding the rest of his finger in. You were literally a moaning mess at this point and he'd barely touched you. (I mean come on, it is Bucky Barnes after all).

Bucky started to pump his finger, giving your throat a little squeeze as he added another finger to your wet pussy.

"S'tight, doll. I don't know if I'll get my cock in there." He drawled, accent thick against your ear. All you could do was let another lewd moan escape you, the only thing keeping you uptight being Bucky's hand wrapped around your throat, the cool metal a stark contrast to the hot flush that was brushed all over your skin by now.

"James!" You cried out, knees buckling as his palm began bumping against your clit with every thrust of his fingers. A third one was added to your heat.

"You like that, doll?" He rasped, curling his fingers upwards experimentally and grinning at the little Yelp of pleasure it dragged from you. The grin only spread when Bucky picked up on footsteps coming towards the gym, the unmistakable voices of Sam and Steve filling his ears.

Of course, you didn't hear this, as Bucky had super-soldier hearing and all. Bucky doubled his efforts, determined to have you cumming as both your friends walked in the room. Give them a show.

"C'mon, doll, cum for me," Bucky egged, letting his fingers hit that one spit inside you with ever curl, "soak me, cum all over my hand." He continued, nipping on your earlobe and pressing his hard-on into your back.

You could also hear Steve and Sam approaching now, but you were way to intent on getting your release to being yourself to care. Fuck them, you thought - then a smile graced your lips, maybe seeing you come undone would grant that wish.

"I want you to scream for me, y/n." Bucky groaned as the door to the gym swung open - Sam and Steve in the middle of talking and not looking away from each other until a shriek of pleasure ripped from you.

"F-fuck! Bucky!" You moaned so bloody loudly, Bucky was convinced that anyone on the bottom floor of the tower must've heard you. Your cunt spasmed around Bucky's fingers, legs trembling as hands clawing at Bucky's muscular thighs to ground yourself.

"Good girl." He whispered against your ear, smirking at the sight before him. Stood before you, were Steve and Sam. Steve looked like a deer in headlights - eyes wider than saucers and jaw hanging so low it may as well be on the floor. Sam, on the other hand, was also smirking, eyes roaming your shaking body with a hunger that Bucky had instantly noticed.

"Fuck me, is there room for another to join?" Sam was quick to blurt out, earning him a shocked side-eye from Steve. Bucky's smirk grew.

"What do you think, doll? D'you reckon we have room for a couple more?" Bucky asked you, breath tickling the side of your face.

"The more the merrier." You purred, words still slightly spurred from your orgasm, but you were back to thinking clearly. Sam wasted no time, and before you knew it he was stood in front of you and pulling you into a searing kiss. Bucky retracted his hand from your panties, stepping back slightly and looking to Steve.

"You gonna join us or what, punk?" Bucky smiled amusedly as his best friend, who was trying his hardest not to stare at your semi-naked body. Your hands were gripping Sam's biceps tightly, hips rocking over her thigh that he had spotted between your legs as you moaned into his mouth. When he pulled away to scold steve you were panting.

"What's wrong, old man? Forgotten what an orgasm is? When was the last time you got laid?" Sam teased, tone mockingly accusatory but it worked. A scowl quickly spread over Steve's face, arms crossing over his chest to show case his bulging muscles.

"Just because I'm old doesn't mean I don't know what I'm doing." Steve remarked and Bucky rose a brow.

"Really, pal? Because I don't remember you being with a lot of women back in the day." Bucky teased and Steve sent him a look.

"Yeah, well, I spent a couple months working only with a group of girls after I was injected, remember?" Steve said, his boyish grin telling the rest of the story.

"Well, Mr America's most wanted, why don't you come prove us wrong?" Sam prompted, and by this time your were back to rubbing you thighs together at the though of taking all three of them.

"Please, Steve. I need you." You whined, hoping to speed him up a little bit. Steve took long strides towards you until he stood in front of you, hand cupping your jaw and directing your gaze to him.

"Suck a needy little thing, aren't ya?" Steve chided, pushing your face to one side and then the other as he examined you. "You will address me as Captain." He said authoritatively and you barely had enough time to utter a little 'yes, Captain' before he was slinging you over his shoulder and sauntering over to the weights benches.

You let out a little mph as Steve dropped you onto the bench, dropping to his knees and parting your legs. He begun to press wet and sloppy kisses to your inner thighs, kissing ever exposed bit of skin he could find except where you needed him most.

"Captain!" You whined, wishing he would hurry up a little. Steve rolled his eyes at your childish behaviour but suddenly stopped and let out a groan when you buried your short fingers in his hair and attempted to pull his head into your core.

"Patience, little one." He chided, and the nickname nearly made you want to cry with want. Steve was the only person at the tower that called you 'little one', and he only did so when he was scolding you or agitated with you. You never thought it'd be such a turn-on during sex, especially coming from his lips.

"Woah, woah, woah. Back up," Sam interrupted suddenly, just as Steve went to place a kiss over your clothes heat. "Steve actually knows what eating a girl out means?" He inquired and Steve scoffed.

"Jesus, Sam! I'm from the forties not a fuckin' nunnery!" Steve exclaimed and Sam raised his hands up in surrender.

"Alright, man." He backed off a little and Steve shook his head before turning back to you and resuming to tease you over your panties. You gasp when he ran a finger over your covered slit, some of the remnants of your orgasm seeping through the fabric and transferring onto his finger. Steve brought the now damp finger to his mouth and sucked it clean, moaning at your taste.

"You taste so good, little one, like fuckin' honey I swear." Steve groaned and before you could respond another gasp was released as you felt the fabric of your panties being ripped from your skin. Steve pocketing the scrap of fabric did not go unnoticed by you or the boys, and Bucky smirked out how confident his little Stevie had become.

"Captain, please!" You whined impatiently, desperate to feel his mouth on you. Steve's lips curled into a smirk, before they were descending on you. You bucked your hips up into his mouth, but Steve tutted you and pinned your hips down with his arm, keeping you from moving again. He licked a stripe up from you slit to your clit and back again, doing this a few times and making you try to thrash your hips. Steve stopped at your entrance and pushed his tongue into your pulsing heat, pumping the warm muscle in-and-out, tearing pornographic moans from your lips.

Your hands found their way down to Steve hair, tangling your fingers into his blonde locks and tugging harshly, getting a groan from him as Steve's tongue curled around inside you, stroking your walls. Your cunt clenched around him and Steve moaned into you in response, sending vibrations throughout you core. You shuddered as Steve started to rub circles on your clit, adding too much to the sensation and you came screaming Steve's name.

As slap to your thigh caused you to jolt, crying out when the contact was made.

"What did you just call me?" Steve demanded and you stuttered, a babbling mess as he kept up him ministrations.

Steve pulled away but didn't stop, moving his fingers from your clit to your entrance and pushing them in to the knuckle, pulling out to the tips and pushing back in, while waiting for his answer.

"I'm s-sorry, Captain!" You managed finally.

"Good girl." Steve groaned before he lowered his mouth to your clit and lapped around it, flicking it with his tongue. Your eyes rolled as Steve sucked your clit into his mouth, nipping it and dragging it out with his teeth. You soon came again, biting your bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood.

He kept going, curling his fingers upwards and trying to finger your spot.

"Captain!" You moaned as he found it, making him reangle his fingers to hit it with every thrust. His mouthy worked at your clit still, bringing you to a third orgasm from just Steve's tongue and fingers that made your whole body shake. Steve pulled away and smirked at you, climbing over you and kissing you. You could taste your own sweetness in the kiss and moaned into his mouth.

When he pulled away your face was full of a fucked-out expression, one that made Bucky coo as he stroked your cheek lovingly a after Steve had stepped back.

"You tired already, baby?" He said sweetly, his thumb pulling at your swollen bottom lip and dragging it towards your thin with his thumb. It bounced back into place as you nodded, eyes barely open. "Tough. You still haven't taken any of our cocks and poor Sammy hasn't even got his hands on this perfect body of your." Buck murmured in your ear, his breath hot and intoxicating against your skins as your eyes widened at his words.

He stepped aside with a wicked smirk, holding his arm out in gesture towards you for Sam. Sam stepped forwards eagerly, leaning down to place a bruising kiss against your lips and before you knew it the Falcon had your legs wrapped around his waist and you back slammed against the wall.

His lips trailed over you jaw, down your neck as your head fell back against the wall, a lewd moan escaping you when you felt his hardness press into your bare cunt.

"Sam, please." You whined breathily, trying to wiggle your hips against him as persuasion. Bucky and Steve chuckled from behind sam, and when you dared to glance over his shoulder a new flood of arousal flocked to your entrance at the sights of both men stripped and stroking their cocks. A groan spilled from you lips and Sam smirked against you skin, using a hand to pull his work out shorts down and pull his cock from his boxers.

"You ready, baby?" He husked in your ear, running his length through you folds and letting the head bump you clit as he collected your wetness.

"Fuck, please, just get inside me." You moaned, head lolling forward to rest against his shoulder. Sam let out a guttural groan as he entered you, throw in head back as he bottomed out. He stayed still for a moment, giving some time to adjust and chucking again when you tried to move on his dick.

The man pulled his hips back, slamming them against them with so much force you could see stars.

"Fuck!" You screamed, biting down on Sam's shoulder to try and keep quiet - fully aware that anyone else at the tower could walk into the gym at any moment to see Sam railing you against the wall and Steve and Bucky jerking off at the sight.

"That's it," Sam groaned, smirking as you screamed when he hit that spit deep inside you, "taking my cock so well in this tight little pussy." He praised, hands braced against the wall behind you as he thrusted harshly up into you. You were a babbling, moaning mess, reaching for you clit to push yourself over the edge again. The accompanied sounds of all three men groaning and moaning was enough to spurt in your release again, and you soon hit your peak crying out Sam's name.

He rode out your orgasm with a few more hard pumps, groaning your name as he released inside you. Sam's forehead pressed to yours, heavy breaths shared as you both calmed down. "Fuck, that was good." He grinned, slowly pulling out of you and setting you down on the ground. You kept your hands resting on his shoulders, untrusting of your own strength when it came to your now-wobbly legs. "You didn't think we were done, did you?" He whispered huskily in your ear, you eyes darting nervously to the two super soldier's with rock hard cock slapping against their stomachs behind Sam.

You gulped, making eye contact with Bucky as he spoke.

"My turn."

Taglists

Steve Rogers One-shots, Drabbles and Headcannons | @buckysgirl101 @quxxnxfhxll

Bucky Barnes One-shots, Drabbles and Headcannons | @buckysgirl101 @quxxnxfhxll

Other Marvel Characters One-shots, Drabbles and Headcannons | @buckysgirl101 @quxxnxfhxll

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#smut #image #images #sam wilson #Sam Wilson smut #anthony mackie smut #anthony mackie #chris evans #chris evans smut #seb stan #sebastian stan #sebastian stan smut #winter soldier smut #winter soldier #falcon #captain america smut #captain america fanfiction #captain america #steve rogers image #steve rogers x reader #steve x bucky #steve roger fanfic #steve rogers #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #avengers #avengers smut #marvel

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Bad Dreams - Bucky Barnes x Avenger (f)reader

Summary: You and Bucky are adjusting to civilian life after the Blip, some nights he needs you more then he realizes.

Warning: bit o angst, soft Bucky, fluff

Masterlist

It had been a long fucking five years alone, sure you had Nat and Steve around at the Avengers Facility. But no matter how much time you spent with them doing whatever to keep your mind busy, at the end of the day, you were undoubtedly alone. You liked it that way at one point in your complicated life as an Avenger, but after the blip, you absolutely despised it. 

No one had expected what would have happened to be so terrible and tragic, or it to even go the way that it did. You had never even heard of Thanos or what the fuck kind of weirdass monsters could exist from other parts of the galaxy until they showed up knocking. How rude huh.

Life was peaceful before hand, well for the most part; you were an Avenger, someone who was part of the team. A conjurer of flame and ash, a Phoenix held within that was not afraid to use your power, and you used it well.

Then as per usual, shit went down and low and behold you met the one and only James Buchanan Barnes, Steve’s old friend with the metal arm and troubling history. Not to mention a face to die for, or at least one that would cause a bit of a chaotic scuffle between your two friends. They clearly had other priorities apart from yours at the time which was keep Steve out of jail, don’t burn anyone, and refrain from flirting with his 90 something year old friend. You tried your best in most of those areas. Most of them. 

Nonetheless, you fell hard and fast for the blue eyed man, and him the same for you, his feisty little firecracker with a heart as big and bright as a dragons. So when he went to Wakanda to lie low and get some much needed help. You followed.

With a heartfelt goodbye and a lasting kiss, he went under for a couple long weeks until Shuri and her expert team of scientists were able to fix what those bastards at Hydra had done to him.

For a short yet blessedly peaceful amount of time did you and your dark haired lover live safely within the Wakandan borders. In a small and beautiful little village by a lake, a hut all your own to shelter you from the heat and rain that poured hard onto the earth, and most wonderfully of all you had Bucky.

Life was simple for the first time in a long time, you spent the days helping out the locals and teaching the children how to properly swing a stick in defense, you know completely normal leisure activities. Spending the evenings making a big fire to tell stories under and cook the best food in Wakanda.

And the nights? You spent those wrapped up in Bucky’s arm, although most times you would be the big spoon which he loved more then anything in the whole world. Telling you it’s not just because you’re naturally warm, but that he’s been admittedly a bit touch starved from the years alone and lost. And for that you would always hold him closer.

Then that fateful day came crashing into your lives like a waterfall against rock, your friends had shown up claiming some being called Thanos was coming to take a stone out of Vision’s head. Yeah that was a new one.

The battle wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great either, you were able to save many lives by scorching the beasts that pursed onward. Letting whips of flame slash hard against the enemy with great skill and force from your bending. Then the world seemed to still, and the wind swayed the trees oddly.

Then HE came, the Titan from another world, he threw down all in his path without an ounce of mercy or remorse. You and Wanda were so close, so damn close to stopping him, but then he threw you back with the whole force of the gauntlet and a moment later Vision was dead.

Your head was bleeding and a fresh scar had marked your jaw in a bloody red slash from the impact. Though your mind didn’t have time to register nor care as Thanos abruptly disappeared into oblivion, leaving a confused Thor in his wake. Much like the rest of the Avengers.

Then to your horror, one by one, your friends began to turn to ash and dust. Gone. You raced for Bucky nearby, praying to who’d ever listen to spare him or you for that matter. You just needed ten more seconds and then you could have held him one last time, touched his precious skin, ran your fingers through his long dark locks.

Looked into his ocean blue eyes, but no, the universe laughed as you gasped in panic, then it snickered as you screamed. Cheering you on as you sobbed in a cyclone of your own fire until the ground was scorched to shriveled dry earth. And no more tears could fall, your throat raw and heart broken in two.

Your world was gone, a memory forever kept locked inside your heart and soul. He was gone, he was your world, Bucky made your life better and you his.

For the coming months you were a mess, an angry and frustrated wreck of a person. Functioning by sheer will power and Natasha to keep you afloat in your new dreary little world of nothingness. You envied Steve for his ability to keep most of his shit together, and where almost enraged by Tony who had everything still intact. Pepper and a child on the way, how cruel the universe appeared.

You would wake up in the middle of the night sweating, your heart racing a mile a minute and usually part of the wall behind you would be burnt and blackened. You never set fire to anything thank god, but fuck, your heart hurt so much.

You wanted to scream most days, but as one year rolled into two and then three, the dull dreary ache in your body subdued to a tiny flicker of sadness. It became almost nonexistent during the day as you went about Avenger business, only to burn hot and angry at night.

You wanted to move on and forget, but you couldn’t, he was too important. They all didn’t deserve to go like that, none of them. And so another year passed, then it was year five since the blip, more months passed on. Until out of nowhere something or perhaps someone miraculous lit the way into a new sense of hope.

Resulting in the return of everyone who had been lost before, including your Bucky. And from that moment after the battle, when at long last you had finally found him, you knew life would never be the same.

——

Rain pours relentlessly from outside your apartment window, a rhythmic pitter patter near your bedside that aids in keeping you asleep and unbothered for the time being. No sooner do you reach the climax of your dream that consists of you being chased by a giant monarch butterfly with no weapon but a sandbox plastic shovel, do you wake. Strange dream.

All your senses flooding back into you as you feel for your lover in the darkness, your eyes still closed as you do so. Your hand slides across the crinkled bedsheets to no avail, the spot next to you is undeniably empty and rather cold.

oh, Bucky.

Cracking one eye open you glance at the alarm clock where it reads 1:10am in big red letters, illuminating the nightstand that it sits on. You take in a deep breath and roll onto your back to stare up at the ceiling, this has become a reoccurring event with Bucky in the following months since his return.

In Wakanda things were different, it was like a nice prolonged vacation away from all your problems and responsibilities of the world. Now, you two have an apartment somewhere in New York City all your own. Bucky goes to therapy and does his best to integrate back into his new role as a civilian while you work as an Avenger part time. The other half used for being a supporting loving girlfriend to Bucky and a hacker on the side for extra cash in the bank.

You get it though, he’s adjusting the best he’s able to manage right now, and even when he swears the nightmares are gone for good. You know him too well to believe that shit, you can see it in his eyes, he may have been a master assassin at one point. Now he’s with a skilled and almost equally as weathered Avenger who’s seen her share of people really going through it.

It’s not like you were doing any better, you’d wake up screaming in the dead of night from another nightmare involving losing Bucky again. That only lasted for a month or so, but still, it sucked and hurt every damn time. So you get it, nightmares can be a bitch.

Blinking the bleariness out of your eyes, you yawn into the darkness and take a moment to listen to the sound of the rain. It’s peaceful and calm, and though you’d like nothing more then to roll over and fall back into the dark comfortable void of sleep. You long to see Bucky again, even if you saw him not even two hours ago.

Pulling the blanket off of your body, you slowly sit up and face the blurry window that overlooks the glowing city, well more so the park close by. Pushing some hair out of your face, you stand and take a brief moment to stretch before letting your right hand emit a beautiful blue flame.

It proptly lights up the dark room into a shadowed yet still visible one, with a lazy proud smile, you move for the opened bedroom door. Your flame lights the way down the hall until you wander past the tiny kitchen and stop in your living room to the sound of heavy breathing coming from the far end.

You give a lopsided smirk to no one in particular as you pad over to the man who’s sweaty and shirtless on the wooden apartment floor in nothing but his boxers and a single blanket that’s not covering much. Well he sure looks like a hot mess, your hot mess that is.

He gives you an apologetic glance before staring tiredly back at the nearby wall. You extinguish your flame and gently nudge his leg with your sock, “How’s the floor?” You ask with a tinge of humor to lighten the mood.

He lets out a breathy laugh before looking back up at you, “Solid.” Quips Bucky in reference to the hard floor and perhaps his take on the makeshift bed, always one for a bit of humor huh.

Chuckling you crouch down to better meet his shadowed gaze, “I guess so,” You mutter with a shrug, “....afraid I might burn you in my sleep?”

Shaking his head, he gifts you the flash of a smile, “No. Not this time Y/N.”

You smile back before sitting down next to him, you look down at his hand before reaching out to take it without any resistance, “I know it’s the nightmares Bucky.” You whisper softly, your eyes sincere and true, “You don’t have to hold it all in okay, I don’t.....I don’t want you to do that.”

Letting out a reluctant sigh, Bucky frowns, “I know Y/N....I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, I just love you too much to see you hurting. I’ve missed you for what feels like a hundred goddamn years and I don’t want you to slip away from me..” You add with a sad smile, “Never again.”

Squeezing your hand gently, Bucky nods, “You’re not going to lose me okay. I promise you that much alright. I love you Y/N.” And he means every word.

“That’s good then. Can you at least tell me something to ease your mind from what’s bothering you?” You ask with a hopeful smile, “Please. Remember what the therapist talked about with speaking your thoughts and feelings....it’s like emptying a treasure chest or some shit.”

“Right.” Laughs Bucky, “Can’t say you’re going to find any gold in here.”

“Shut up I don’t care.” You muse with a shrug, “I’m here to listen.”

“As the lady wishes.” Retorts Bucky with a half-assed bow that caused you to break out into a small smile at his cheekiness.

“Wait.” You pause.

“What?”

“Can we sit on the couch for this I wanna lay next to you.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky fakes his annoyance as you patiently await his answer, “Fine.” He confirms, quickly standing up and taking you with him, “But you gotta lay on me I’m kinda cold now.”

Bucky falls onto the large comfortable couch with a dramatic huff as he pulls you onto his shirtless body, “Weren’t you just all sweaty?” You wonder with a raised brow as he quickly wraps his arms around your waist.

“Yep.”

“Gross.”

Bucky chuckles, “Well you’re making me talk about my feelings.”

“That’s because you won’t talk about them with your actual therapist.” You sass back.

“I hate it when you’re right.” Mutters Bucky into your cheek as you snicker at his adorably dramatic self.

“I think your brain short circuited and misplaced the word hate for absolutely love and adore.”

“Maybe.” Adds Bucky as he steals a sweet kiss, “I’m still working through things you know.”

“Okay smartass. Now tell me what’s on your mind.”

His chest rises as he takes a deep heavy sigh, he stares out the nearby window that keeps the rainy city from being bothersome. You can’t completely see his face due to the darkened room, but you’re close enough to see the way his face turns into a frown.

Suddenly you think maybe you shouldn’t have bugged him to speak about his nightmares. Until he purses his lips together and glances those big beautiful blue eyes down at you, the flash of a smile revealing itself in a split second.

To give him a bit more confidence and perhaps to calm his nerves, do you reach a hand up to gently caress his stubbled cheek, “Was it the Starks again?” You whisper softly in question, knowing how much it still haunts him. Among all the others.

Closing his eyes, he leans into your touch, “Not this time.” Mutters Bucky before taking that hand in his as he rests his head against the couches puffy arm. “Someone else.....Someone who got in the way. Wrong place wrong time.”

“oh.” Slips from your mouth quietly, you’re not sure what else to say, but you’re still hoping he’ll speak a little more about it. “Do they have anything to do with your list?”

It’s a shot in the dark, but you’re well aware of Bucky’s goal to make amends with his past and the people tied with it, maybe someone might be linked to it by chance.

Bucky takes another weighted breath, you can just sense how terrible he feels about this person. “Bucky take your time, it’s okay I’m right here.”

Looking for a positive sign you watch as he closes his eyes once again before moving his head a little bit so that it rests against yours, “I know....it’s just, difficult.”

“Always is.”

“Yeah.”

Kissing your forehead, his flesh arm wraps around your waist as he makes himself more comfortable before continuing, “I was in some government building at night.....tasked with eliminating some special high end target. I finished the mission in under a minute, but uh....there was a civilian who saw everything.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah.” Mumbles Bucky against your skin as he takes a moment to gather himself, soon he shifts underneath you once more before letting out a soft breath, “I shot him.”

A bang of sadness washes over you in that brief second and then a sparking anger for what Hydra had forced him to do. You keep silent and wait for Bucky to continue on with his story.

“That guy I killed. He um....he uh, he didn’t deserve that....but I had to.” Bucky’s voice is shaky as he puts his words together, “And you know what’s the worst about this?”

“I’d like not to imagine it but I know you should tell me.”

“You remember Yori?”

“Of course, he takes us to that great sushi place sometimes.”

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut as he hugs you tighter against his bare chest for some kind of comfort, his voice nothing but a regretful whisper, “I killed his son.”

Your eyes soften as he reveals who this mystery civilian was, “Damn.”

“Out of all the people in this world and I meet the man who’s son I murdered for Hydra.”

“That’s almost a sick joke.”

“I know. God I’m so fucked up.”

“No.” You protest softly while he hides his face in your neck, “I know you’ve heard this a thousand times but that wasn’t you. It wasn’t the real James Buchanan Barnes alright, you didn’t have a choice. Those fuckers took that away from you.”

“I know Y/N, but I still did it.”

“Bucky look at me.” You ask kindly, to your genuine surprise he lifts his head from your neck to look into your determined gaze, “You’re not the only one here who was manipulated and had their freedom taken from them by Hydra. I’ve done terrible things too, but you know what? We were never truly ourselves then, they molded us into their weapons and now.....they can never touch us again. You understand me?”

Tears whell up in Bucky’s shimmering eyes at your truthfully honest words, he had temporarily forgotten that you were once an unwilling participant in Hydra’s mind stone experimentations many years ago.

“I understand....” Mutters Bucky as he swallows hard, “what would I be without you?”

Giving him a small tearful smile, you gently wipe away a stray tear from his cheek, “A little bit more alone I’d say.”

“You’re a hundred times braver then me you know that? I couldn’t image five years without you and these fucking nightmares.” Admits Bucky as he moves to rest his head in the crook of your neck, “I’d go insane.”

Appreciating this close proximity and his heartfelt confession, you smile into the darkness, “I think I did. Thing is about shitty situations like that....life moves on and finds a way. I have you now, I thought I would lose you forever.”

“I’m glad you didn’t.”

“Me too.”

#bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #Bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x y/n #the winter soldier #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #marvel x y/n #marvel x you #marvel #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier

[amysteryspot]

Heaven in Hiding - Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader

Requested: No Fandom: Peaky Blinders Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Female Reader Summary: Tommy and (Y/N) are in a secret relationship that neither of them had planned to happen. Warnings: swearing and smut (+18). Word Count: 845 A/N: A very self indulgent smutty drabble because I was feeling like it. Hope you enjoy it.

(Y/N) = Your Name | (Y/E/C) = Your Eye Color | (Y/H/C) = Your Hair Color

It felt like heaven. Being inside of her felt like heaven, there was no other way to describe it. (Y/N) was better than the alcohol, the smoke and the opium because when he was with her Tommy felt like he was just a young man again. He wasn’t the leader of the Peaky Blinders or a bloody MP - he was just a man.

(Y/N) sighed, nails digging onto his back, legs wrapping around his waist to bring him closer. She whined when he trust into her again, hitting a deeper spot than before, her walls clenching around him in pleasure, tell tales of how close she was to her orgasm.

“That’s it, sweetheart, cum for me, eh. Want to feel you coming around my cock.” She moaned as her hands brought his face to her, lips meeting his on a searing kiss.

“Tommy.” He stopped trusting into her at the sound of his name, sitting up on his heels and just observing her for a moment as (Y/N) whined in protest at the loss of friction even though his cock was still inside of her.

Her (Y/H/C) hair sprawled out onto the pillow, (Y/E/C) eyes staring back at him in want, lips swollen and slightly parted, chest rising and falling rapidly from the exertion. That was the image he wanted to engrave in his memory until the next time they would be able to see each other again.

Tommy pulled her to him, not sure which one of them released the strangled groan of pleasure from the new position. His hands found her waist to guide her movements as she began to grind against him. He helped her move, guiding her up and down his length and when that felt like it was not enough he started trusting up into her, making her squirm above him.

He came before her, between a string of curses and a moan of her name muffled into the side of her neck as his teeth grazed her skin. One of his hands found its way between their bodies, close to where they were joined, his thumb grazing her clit before he started to draw circles on the engorged bundle of nerves.

(Y/N) gasped, crying out his name, her movements faltering as she closed her eyes, head falling back in pure bliss. Tommy was almost sure he could get hard again just at the sight of her reaching her peak in front of him, not to mention the feel of her cunt spasming around his cock.

Tommy lowered her gently onto the mattress, his lips searching for her in a frenzy as her fingers traced the back of his skull, finding the longer strands of hair on the top of his head and entangling themselves there. When they parted Tommy kept his eyes closed, resting his forehead against hers, just savoring the feeling of her sweaty skin against his while they both tried to catch their breaths.

He knew that what he felt for her was far beyond just desire. The both of them were past that point for some time now. Tommy should have known better than to let himself get involved with her – young and fearless and challenging. He never had a chance, not since the day her (Y/E/C) eyes met his and she smiled, that wicked, teasing smile of hers that made him immediately drag her to his bed.

After the first time he tried to convince himself that he was over it, that it was just a fuck, plain and simple. Then he saw he saw her again and needed to take her to his bed – or any available surface – again should have made him realize that things weren’t as simple as he was trying to convince himself to be.

Months passed by in this game of cat and mouse and Tommy didn’t even realize that he wasn’t looking for sex in other places. All he could think about was the next time he was going to see her, the next time that he would feel her skin against his, the next time he would be able to have her.

Tommy pulled out of her, making her hiss with the motion. He was quick to go to the bathroom to clean himself and bring a wet cloth for her at the bedroom, before laying down and bringing her to rest on his arms. (Y/N) looked at him, eyelids heavy, a sweet smile on his face.

“Who would have thought that Tommy Shelby is a cuddler!” Tommy rolled his eyes but was unable to contain the smile creeping onto his face.

“Shut up.”

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” she was quick to press a quick peck onto his lips. “Nobody would believe me, anyway.”

“You are a little temptress,” he said making her giggle as he brought her on top of him. She rested her hands on his chest, looking down at him with a smile that was pure mischief, before leaning in to kiss him.

Yeah, this was certainly heaven in hiding.

.

Taglist: @internalmess3​ @stressedandbandobessed7771​ @captivatedbycillianmurphy​

#peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fanfiction #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby fic #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x female reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby smut #tommy shelby #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x female reader #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #reader insert #amysteryspot #mysterywritings

[cheelduh]

How to strike your way into someone’s heart (Highschool AU)

Part 2 to this. Can be read alone!

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Warnings: A lot of swearing I mean what do you expect they’re all teenagers. Lots of brick slapping. Childe clowns Scaramouche. OH YES this isn’t edited at all lmfao have fun.

Synopsis: It’s your big date with Childe after you lost the bet miserably. You decide to pay the occult club a visit in hopes of finding something that can...ease your concerns. Childe on the other hand has Signora give him a friendly piece of advice, believe it or not. 

Note: SRY THIS TOOK ME LIKE A MONTH

For as long as you can remember, you've never believed in ghosts, demons, or souls that lose their way in the endless void, forced to roam the earth in repentance.

Believing in the unknown takes creativity, adventure, maybe even a little sense of fear. Scratch that—a shitton of fear, because humans love to weave in their insecurities and inability to explain something into something of a phenomenon.

Bad luck lies in this category. Bad luck is simply a way to justify the catastrophe that one cannot admit they have fabricated themselves. Everyone wants a reason as to why shit hits the fan, and it can be anything but their own fault.

Bad luck is nothing but a load of bull to you. That's totally why you're standing outside the calculus classroom during lunch break, which happens to be the official meet spot for the occult club.

You raise a fist to knock, but then falter, thinking over your options once again. Is this what it has come to? Putting your faith into the weird kids that once tried to summon Schrödinger's cat for the physics final.

Fischl kicks the door wide open, a smirk playing at her lips once she spots you. "One cannot refrain from the song of your cogitation. The feline for which thou dwell on—"

A squeak leaves your throat and you flinch back, cutting her off. "You can read my mind?"

"Fischl," An icy eyed boy shows up from behind her and points a thumb back. "Mona needs your help."

Fischl squints at you for a brief moment, and then spins onto her heel to go back into the room.

The blue haired lower class man, Chongyun you guess, narrows his eyes at you. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Finally you manage to speak, palms all sweaty. "Yeah uh, I need your help. You know, with occulty things." You use your hands to articulate your thoughts, but ultimately give up.

You're not sure if it's pity towards your pathetic explanation or simply annoyance, but Chongyun widens the opening. He silently gestures for you to follow.

Stumbling on your feet and putting on your big girl pants, you hurry inside of the room, hoping you aren't seen by Beidou. She wouldn't let you hear the end of this.

The temperature instantly drops, and you have to adjust your sight to navigate. There's heavy incense in the air as well as a a few lighted candles from the dollar store, you guess.

Sitting smack dab in the middle of all the demonic markings is Mona, with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Chongyun has made his way next to her, crossing his arms with a sigh, and Fischl is busy cooing at her bird.

"Well well well..." Mona's amused, eyes almost twinkling as she gets up from the poor desk that had to suffer the wrath of her ass. "If it isn't Y/N."

Mona is a glorified dick wiper in your books. One time, she partnered up with you in chemistry last year and refused to do any work because apparently her "star sign" said she was incompatible with science. You haven't forgiven her since.

"I need your help." You barely manage to choke out the words, reigning yourself in by clenching your fists instead. It'll be unethical to claw her face, especially since you're the one who's come to her.

"Oh?" She smiles wickedly, revelling in every moment of this no doubt. "Why would the high and mighty Y/N need help from the 'Whoroscope whore'?"

Fischl nearly slips out a laugh, trying with her upmost ability to refrain from rolling all over the floor.

You blink away your tears of almost-laughter, casually sliding in twenty mora across the table dividing you two. If she's a whoroscope whore like you say she is, she'll definitely put it in her bra.

Mona raises a brow, but her eyes linger on the bill for a second too much. "What makes you think I'll do it for money?"

"That's simple," You say, rolling your eyes. "When you see mora, you cling to it like a baby clings to a tit. Now just take it and solve my issues."

She fumes a litany of curses but snatches the money up anyways.

"What do you want?"

You breathe in, then out. "I need a talisman."

Mona raises a brow, hand on her hip. "I'm sorry. Did I get that right?"

How dare she. You will your eye into not twitching, the beginnings of fire thrumming through your veins, scalding hot. How dare she make me repeat myself.

"You know, the thing to fend off evil spirits," Your statement hangs heavy in the air as the cogs in their brains click into place. "I need one that can remove the most evilest thing times ten to the power of twenty five on this planet."

Everyone immediately thinks of Hu Tao.

Chongyun is the first to speak from an area of expertise, seemingly shocked at your words. "Are you sure you want a talisman that powerful? How bad is the evil spirit you've come across?"

You glance out the window, through the semi-open blinds. The apprehension curls in your stomach once you spot Childe chasing Aether with safety scissors, and you've never been more sure of than anything in your life.

Gulping, you turn back to the exorcist. "I'm 110% sure."

He doesn't ask any more questions and goes to fetch the talisman.

Mona clears her throat. "So I hear you have a date with Childe today. Quite the character you've taken to."

"Oh please," You hiss through your teeth, your blood pressure going up tenfold, "you're the one that told him our star signs were intertwined and that we're fated lovers."

She shrugs innocently, stance casual unlike your own that is ready to lunge an attack.

"Here you are," Chongyun hands you a talisman, a colourful mix of some charms, some kind of liquid in a bottle, and about a shitton of other things. "You'll need these if you're going to face the most demonic of all evils."

You think of Childe's stupidly handsome smirk, the playful life of his eyes, and how gentle and considerate he is with you. You think about how cruel he is to others, but how loving he can be to you.

"Oh, I will be."

—

Childe is getting his ass handed to him by Scaramouche on the switch. It's just that he can't seem to focus, not with the forthcoming date all over his mind.

He hasn't experienced these kind of jitters in a long time. Has to endure that foolish smile that's about to plaster all over his face.

Scaramouche may be a son of a bitch with an agenda, but he doesn't appreciate his acquaintances safeguarding their personal crap when it starts to leak onto him. Especially when it comes to video games.

"Okay," The short boy sighs, stretching over the staff room sofa to drop his controller on the cushions. "Let's hear it." He can't even properly enjoy his victories when Childe isn't giving it his all.

"Hear what?" Childe lays his head back, relaxing from all the strain of endless gaming during the lunch hour. He seems too relaxed for someone who's broken into the teacher's lounge.

"Why you're so distracted." Scaramouche points out. "Not that I care—hey! I'm serious here!"

Childe's cracking up for absolutely no reason, rudely cutting him off. "I'm sorry—sorry it's just so hard to take you seriously when you're wearing that stupid fucking hat."

"Don't question the drip." The older moves his head to glare at him, but the thin stripe of silk on his hat swooshes with him, and it's enough to have Childe clutching his stomach in pain as he barks out in laughter.

"Grow the fuck up." Scaramouche says, no doubt exasperated from the constant shit he gets.

"Ok—ok I'm sorry."

There's a knock on the door before Scaramouche gets the chance to intimidate him again.

"Fuck shit fuck who is that? Wasn't there a staff meeting?" Childe whisper yells, panic clear in the ocean of his eyes.

Scaramouche shrugs and downs a can of soda with no care in the world.

Childe would be nonchalant too. If it were a normal day, he wouldn't give two shits about getting caught.

However, he's looking forward to that date he has with you today. Detention is going foil all his lecherous plans.

"It's me." The feminine sound of a threat calls out from the other side. "Open the door." The clicks and clacks of her toes tapping the floor indicating her impatience.

The two sigh in relief, Childe getting up to open the door. It's way too early in the afternoon to deal with this crap.

"Surprised to see me?" Signora greets sweetly, and if not for the murderous glint in her eyes, he would smile back.

"Yeah, I didn't say Bloody Mary three times." The ginger replies, keeping a steady eye on the upperclassman in case she pulls a fast one.

The blonde shoves him aside in offence, and prances in like she owns the goddamn place. Scaramouche greets her with the bird.

"There's this rumour going around—I'm sure you've heard..."

"Oh?" Childe pockets his keys, ready for an attack, not even remotely interested in the topic.

"Something about how Y/N gave Mona a visit today" Signora muses, elegantly taking a seat on the arm of the couch, "with your date and all, I just thought you should know."

"Hah!" Scaramouche bursts out in laughter, tears in the corner of his eyes. "I can't believe she went to get a horoscope reading on how shitty your date's gonna be."

"Get castrated." Childe growls, flipping him off on both hands.

"Now now boys," Signora's lips curl, and she clasps both manicured hands together, prepared to break the fight if it ever reaches its peak. "Settle down. You two are comrades."

"As if I'm comrades with this SIMP!" Scaramouche has to wheeze out the words.

The youngest clenches his fists, unclenches, and then lets a smirk grow. "Oh? I'm the simp? What about that time Mona pantsed you in-front of all the freshmen and you fell in love with her."

Scaramouche glares at him, a glare strong enough to have anyone shaking in their shoes. "I'm attracted at her sheer audacity of trying to fuck I, Scaramouche, the 8th harbinger, over. It takes balls."

"Mad respect." Signora leans forward to place her phone on the coffee table, then approaches Childe. "Moving on, the reason I've decided to bestow my precious intel on you is because I have a favour to ask of you."

"What?" He says blankly, confused that she has a request for him out of all people.

"I need you to let me get you ready for this date of yours." She gives him a gaze that is enough to wither away any arguments.

Childe shares a look with Scaramouche as if to say "am I fucking deaf because I sure as shit didn't just hear that."

"You sure as hell did, boys." Signora intercepts the connection of their two brainwaves with a dreaded sigh. "I hate Y/N. This is the only way I can get back at her."

"Hey!" Childe exclaims loudly, waving his hands in the air incessantly. "What makes you think I'll let you shit on my future girlfriend."

"I'll be doing nothing of the sorts." She points out, giving him a sly smile. "I just know she's terrified of what's coming. The better the date is, the more she's gonna hate herself. What more do I need but to sprinkle some inner conflict within her airtight resolve?"

As favorable as the proposal is, Childe  contemplates for a second. Signora...helping him? This could work to his advantage if he plays his cards right.

His inner turmoil takes him into the future, where you two are happily married with eight and a half kids. If you ever managed to find out Signora was the culprit that was finally able to set you two up, you'd never forgive him.

"Nah I'll take a hard pass." He doesn't want to think about divorce and custody battles this early on. He'd rather face the brunt of Signora's wrath.

Scaramouche chooses right then to make a tactical withdrawal out through the window since he doesn't want to be a witness to a murder he hasn't caused.

Surprisingly— "Fine then." Signora shrugs, unbothered when summoning out a minty juul from no where. She's disappointed nonetheless.

Childe tilts his head, perplexed, but decides against mulling over it for too long. Instead, he strides off to the door, wanting to get the last two periods over with so he can run home and freshen up for this date.

"Oh and Childe?" Signora calls out to him, but he barely acknowledges her, only pausing momentarily without looking back. "A piece of friendly advice. A diligent student like Y/N, there's no way she'd be into rash things like fighting. So try and control yourself, hmm?"

He flashes the senior a sheepish smile, the front row tickets to the illegal underground fight-club burning in the back pocket of his pants.

—

Childe conceals near the bushes by the gate, expertly hiding his shaking hands by pretending to look for something in his back. His goal isn't to seem desperate, even though he's raced out here at the speed of light after Havria's dismissal.

It's not like he's trying to eavesdrop or anything. He just wants a little insight on how you're feeling about this, in case the rumors of you visiting the occult club wasn't a farce.

From his peripheral, he spots you and a familiar figure that is Lisa, leisurely walking side by side as you approach the main side walk.

"Ready for your date, Y/N? You've been daydreaming all afternoon." Lisa winks, and dodges the shove you send her way with experience like no other.

"Yes, daydreaming about punching you in the face." Your left eye twitches in annoyance as you fix your hold on your skateboard.

"Well then, I'll be off—ah!"

The gorilla grip you have on her sleeve takes away all the time she has to get on the last bus she's about to miss.

Your utter strength is enough to make Childe's knees weak. How pathetic he thinks.

"Oh no you don't," You say in a sing-song voice, "you got me into this, so you're going to help."

"Help with what?" Lisa fakes a hard pout as she bats her lashes, trying to collect pity points.

"I—" You inhale, loosening your grip on her and averting your eyes nervously to see if anyone's watching. "Don't make me say it."

The older girl motions for you to continue, and you're sure you've suffered more for less at this point.

"I've never...been on a..." The sentence ends in a trailed murmur.

Childe doesn't think he's ever seen you so flustered. He's about to snap a picture for later, but decides against it. They'll be plenty of moments later on to see your cute expressions.

Lisa's grin is both seductive and terrifying, Childe notices. "You've never been on a date?"

"Shut up!" You hiss, dropping your board so you can cover her lips with your palm, eyes darting around your surroundings frantically. "Not so loud."

He has to bite at his fist to hide his amusement.

As if she has a sixth sense, Lisa's eyes somehow find Childe's through the abundance of leaves, and there's a glint in her eyes that nearly makes him shart his pants.

"Of course Y/N," She replies sweetly to you, who is currently unaware of the staring match going on. "I'll teach you everything you need to know...and more."

Childe doesn't know if that's a good or bad thing. Nor does he want to find out.

—

You ponder on what's taking him so long, more on edge than you usually are. Thankfully, Lisa basically pried your hair down from its usual up-do. Said something about how you can hide your lack of shits given as to not offend him.

Except you think you're giving more shits that you expected to. Why else would your heart be pounding so hard?

"What took you so long?" You sense him creeping up on you, ceasing his chance to pounce.

Childe groans playfully and slaps a hand over his face as he comes into view. "How'd you know?"

"You have a douche-styled gait." You reply as you remove your gaze off your phone to approach him.

He's prepared to shoot a witty reply, but it dies halfway through his throat when he procures a good look at you. Your hair frames your face elegantly, eyes shining despite the tiredness that's so clear, all complete with a cooling spring dress that hugs you just right.

Mouth going dry, he forgets how to speak the common tongue, unable to tear his gaze off your form.

You shift in place awkwardly. "Uh are you okay? Looking a little...blank."

"Sorry—sorry just thinking." Childe stumbles over his words like the complete idiot and a half he is, berating himself countlessly on the inside. He regains his confidence once he spots the light dust on your cheeks. "You ready for the best date ever?"

"The best date huh?" It's the first time you smile today, and he swears his heart leaps in his rib cage. You're the prettiest thing he's ever laid his eyes on. "I'm ready. I better not be disappointed."

"I wouldn't dare disappoint, girlie." He feigns mock offence as dramatically as possible. "I'll show you how to have some real fun. Cool keychain by the way, for good luck?"

It's one of the charms Chongyun urged you to carry with you at all times to keep all forms of evil away.

"Yeah...something like that."

The two of you ease into the walk in a relatively comfortable fashion, contributing with lively chatter and a few jabs here and there. It's not awkward at all, not like you thought it would be. Your nerves loosen up, mind diverting from the roots of the stress of high school.

"—And you won't believe what Kaeya did the other day. I'm telling you there's something wrong with him because that SoundCloud rapper wannabe Venti goaded him into birdboxing through the hallways at lunch."

"And the son of a bitch did it?"

"The son of a bitch did it." Childe confirmed, gasping through his laughs as the two of you converse in psychobabble. "And guess who he bumped into?"

You're choking in laughter, tears in your eyes as you hunch over and shake. "He didn't. Childe—no he didn't."

"Straightttt into Diluc. And he had the balls to feel him up because he thought he bumped into a hot bab—"

Childe crashes into a sturdy chest and stumbles backwards towards you, but manages to catch his balance midway. Both of you freeze when faced with a buff guy from another school, bandages on his fist and a crooked smirk on his face.

Fuck. You think. Classic high school cliché.

Realizing he can't risk the remainder of this date when it hasn't even begun, Childe raises a hand in apology, aiming to be the bigger person instead of socking the kid in the face.

"Sorry. I wasn't looking." He offers to the guy, but you can tell he isn't buying any of it. There are about four more kids who group, a setup that isn't going to end in your favour.

"Hey punk. You don't remember me?" The upperclassmen barks out, glaring holes into your date.

You deadpan towards Childe, but he's too is racking his brain to remember. Ends up shrugging with no recollection.

"I have a list of names but they're in my other pants." Shit, what an a-grade reply. Now you know you're done for. "Listen dude, I'm kind of on a date and the vibe is going great. Don't ruin it."

"It's a good thing she's here to watch then!" The guy yells, stomping so that he's right in-front of Childe, ready to pounce. "You humiliated me in front of my gang last week. I'm here to rip you a new one."

Childe blinks, tries to remember, and when he doesn't, he grabs a wad full of cash from the his Fanny pack and throws it at the guy's feet.

Everyone's eyes bulge out of their sockets, including yours at the amount of money placed there casually on the crack of the dirty sidewalk.

"Hopefully this is enough for the damages." Childe offers, aiming to not further escalate the situation albeit how pissed he is right now. If you weren't here...well that would be another, much more violent story.

With a soft tug, Childe brings you close and begins to pass the guy, until he's abruptly stopped by a hand gripping his shoulder tightly.

"I don't think so!" The guys barks, and his lackeys move to surround you two. "You gotta pay taxes too buddy." Oh he's getting way too comfortable now.

A feral smile grows on Childe's face as he looks over his shoulder. "Oh?"

"Yeah shithead." The guy seethes, puffing out his chest to size him up.

Childe itches for a fight. He can no longer keep in the urge and is just about ready to raise a heavy fist, but is beaten by the sound of a loud thwack, and then a painful groan following.

There you are, standing in front of the trembling asshole, spinning your crossbody bag in circles like it's a nunchuck in all it's glory. There's a deadly glint in your eyes, pure, unadulterated vexation in your features.

If Childe could fall for you any harder, it's probably happening now. In that exact moment, his heart beats in his ears uncontrollably, and there's nothing but raw adoration that piles up all at once.

You're an angel of destruction, a force not to be reckoned with, and shit, you're the eye of the fucking storm.

Fire courses through your veins as you pulverize the guy with your bag, swinging with such expertise it has Childe in awe. "He may be an absolute idiot for not remembering—"

"Hey girlie you're killing me here!" Your date snaps out of his astonishment temporarily.

"—but you don't get to call him a shithead, you asshole!" You snarl angrily, gripping the handle of your bag tightly, decking everyone that lunges at you, letting out strings of curses with every hit. Every hit sends a flock of them either stumbling back in pain, or knocked out completely.

Childe doesn't even get a chance to lift a finger by the time you're done violating them with your heavy ass pink bag. Stands there like an absolute loser.

"Apologize." You pant, prepared to send another flurry of attacks at the leader, who is crawling away with a battered face. "Apologize or I'll—I'll fucking Russian neck tie your ass."

"S-sorry!" The guy whimpers out and tries not to piss his pants at the threat.

Childe is still in too much shock at the whole ordeal to reply, short circuiting.

Another thirty seconds pass until he registers the smaller hand waving in front of his face. He catches your cold hand through his haze, brings it closer.

Running a free hand through his locks, he doesn't hide his astonishment. "You're fucking gorgeous, girlie." He whistles lowly, eyeing you with a new kind of regard.

"I-I uh." Your face is all shades of red by now, the adrenaline from kicking ass wearing down. "Let's go."

"How is that bag so heavy?" One of the fallen gasps out in pain, clutching his ribs as he trembles on the floor. "Like a buh-brick."

A part of your zipper in open, and Childe briefly peeks out of morbid curiosity. His jaw slackens. "Is that a...no, it can't be."

"It's a brick." You murmur guiltily, gnawing at your bottom lip. "Just in case." Fingers tentatively play with the straps.

Childe is head over heels by now, all smitten as a foreign warmth bubbles up in his throat, and he's just about sure he'll puke his heart out.

His next words are picked out carefully. "There's an underground fight club going on—"

You lock and aim for his right kidney.

Worth a try, Childe thinks.

"SIKE. Joking—joking. Just a joke." He insists, gloved hands raised by his ears in defence.

Clicking your tongue, you scowl and rush past him.

It hasn't even been an hour and it's been the most exciting date Childe's ever experienced. When he sees your lips twitch, he knows it's the same for you as well.

"Are we going or not?" You mumble, avoiding eye contact, a tinge of red still decorating your cheeks.

Childe crumbles into his hands at your deadly duality. One that comes for his enemies and one that comes straight for his heart.

#genshin impact #genshin impact oneshot #childe x reader #childe #genshin tartagalia #genshin oneshot #tartagila #mona genshin impact #Chonghyun #kaeya alberich #master diluc #venti genshin impact #fischl #lisa genshin impact #jean gunnhildr #fanfic

[racheloveyunho]

Till death do us part - 4

Y/N grew up in a wealthy family, she always was seen as a beautiful   and smart kid and was most likely to take her father’s place as the CEO of one of the most important companies in South Korea. However, after   the death of her mother, Y/N’s family slowly started to break apart. Her  father was always working to forget his uncalled pain while his kids   were left alone at home.

She was 17 years old when her life took a  sudden turn when she met him in a dark alley. He was a bloody mess,   bruises everywhere but behind blood and dirt, she could see his   beautiful features and his addictive gaze. Maybe she should have walked away, maybe she shouldn’t have helped him, but the moment his gaze   locked with hers, she was already his.

Choi San was his name.

Genre: Mafia AU, smut, angst, fluff, stranger to lovers

Words: 1883

TW series:  Y/N is described as an OC. Please be aware that this story will contain  a lot of triggering content such as smut, blood, death, murder, drug,  kidnapping, etc. Do not read if you are under a legal age!

TW chapter: Obsessive behavior (from Y/N’s and San’s side), threats, swearing and a hint of jealousy.

Here it was, the silhouette I liked the most

"San..."

He hugged me tightly as if there was no tomorrow. I noticed how he was sweaty and out of breathe, probably from running to get to me faster.

I breathed in his unique scent, it was woody scent, something fresh but still manly. I felt safer with him, everything was easier when he was by my side. I didn't want to let him go and my feelings seemed mutual as he tightened his grip on my waist.

I was like a piece of metal attracted to a magnet.

We sat down on the bed and he let me cry my heart out, listening every word I had to say. I told him my story, my conflictual relationship with my father, how harsh he was with me and my brother since my mom passed away and my arranged wedding with this Hwang Jinyoung.

We talked for two good hours about my problems but also about the future we both wanted.

As time went on, I started to feel sleepy, my eyelids were heavy and my mind was cloudy. I slowly closed my eyes until I fell into a deep sleep into San's arms. He gently patted my head to help me fall asleep.

"Don't worry Y/N, I will protect you from now on."

San hummed a song before falling asleep by Y/N’s side.

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

Chapter 4

I woke up in the same room I felt asleep on. The unusual walls made my heart ache at the thought of what had happened between my father and I. I knew deep inside me that there will be no turning back with my relationship with him but strangely enough, i didn't feel bad about it, I was more concerned about my brother than anything.

"Did you sleep well?"

I looked up and was greeted by this angelical face of his. San was laying on the same bed as me, one of his muscular arm holding my frame tightly. I smiled back and hide my face on his chest, smelling his addictive scent at the same time.

"I did."

It was a weird feeling. I knew almost nothing of San, I met him three times and still... I felt as if I could give him my whole body and soul. I couldn't help but think about what my mom told me when I was still a child.

"Someday you will find someone you can rely on, someone who doesn't need words to know how you feel, someone who understand and cherish you as the most precious thing in the world. You will find this person one day Y/N, I'm sure of it."

My lips came upward in a smile as I remembered my mom's word, they had a new meaning to me since I met San.

His grip tightened a little around me while his other hand was busy, gently petting my hair.

"You are acting like a boyfriend"

"Do you like it?"

"Very much" I smiled, looking fondly at him and before I knew it, San leaned on and kissed me slightly.

His lips felt like feather, there was nothing but sweetness and love in this kiss, his right hand cupped my cheek and rubbed his thumb against the soft skin.

When our lips finally moved apart, I looked up to meet his - oh so lovely - gaze.

"You are so beautiful"

"Say the man whom is beauty itself" I giggled softly.

This moment was almost perfect - almost.

My mind was quick to remember about the bitterness of the situation I was in. I looked down sadly, avoiding San's intrigued eyes.

A lot of questions were running on my mind. What will happen from now on? I was still minor and my dad was stubborn, he would never let me escape from his grasp so easily. How will I survive? I didn't even had enough money to stay on this hotel for more than a week.

Unconsciously, I sighed heavily. San took my chin between his thumb and his index and lift my face towards his.

"What is it?" San asked me in a whisper.

"Did you bring your phone with you? I have to call Hana, she must be worried."

After a few seconds, he nodded and gave me his phone. I entered the familiar number and quickly enough, Hana's voice was heard through the phone.

"Y/N!! Is everything okay? I was worried sick! I thought you were coming early in the morning?" Her voice cracked at the end of her sentence. I frowned my eyebrows. She was whispering yelling and it was odd since she was always a loud girl.

"Sorry, I didn't wake up. Why are you this quiet?" I suspiciously asked.

"Y/N, I don't think you should come here, your father was there one hour ago and he was beyond furious! He threatened me and my family, saying that he will ruin our lives if he find out we are hiding you from him!" She cried out.

This sentence came before a long and heavy silence where no one dared to talk. My mind was processing this new information while my heart was scolding me for bringing my best friend and her family into a delicate situation.

San was quietly listening to our conversation, his right hand on top of mine while his thumb was gently rubbing the back of my hand.. 

"I'm so sorry Hana... I didn't mean to bring you into this mess..." I lowered my voice, guilt eating me alive.

"Hey sweety... It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong but... I don't think this is a good idea to go against your father will. He is really scary."

"Are you telling me to came back home and let my father do everything he wants with me?" My throat felt suddenly dry and my heart heavy in my chest.

No answer.

I knew she was just afraid of what could possibly happen to her and her family, she just wanted to protect her loved ones. However, I couldn't help but feel betrayed. She knew how my father was and how hard it was for me to handle this situation.

"I see. Don't worry for me, I'm gonna find a way." I finally stated with the coldest voice I could muster. I didn't let her the time to give an answer and hung up right away.

I stayed silent for a while and so did San.

After what seemed like an eternity, I finally looked up at him and sighed with a small smile "Thank you for what you did to me. I owe you one"

"Why are you talking as if you are going somewhere?" he arched his eyebrows before leaning close to me with his signature smirk of his "I'm not planning to let you go away from me, love."

I gasped in surprise "L-love?" I asked stuttering, embarrassed by this sudden pet name.

"Why are you embarrassed about? We just kissed a few minutes ago"

I avoided his gaze and coughed slightly to get rid of the awkwardness "I can't stay here San... You will be in trouble if my dad find out you helped me and I don't want it to happen."

This time, it was San's turn to sight.

"Y/N. Listen to me. I will let you two choices" I frowned but stayed silent to let him continue "You don't know who I am but I can help you. However I won't take you with me if you don't want to. It's up to you. Do you want to stay with me, where I'll promise to keep you safe by my side, or do you want to go back and be toyed your entire life by your father against your own will?"

Silence again.

His face was serious and his voice demanding, It actually made me think I couldn't choose the latter choice - not that I wanted to choose this option anyway.

"Why are you doing this.. I mean, we don't know much about each other and-"

"Kim Y/N, born in Seoul the 25th September 1999 at 3:48. You like horror movies and all kind of sweets, your mother passed away the 4th June and since then, your father had changed completely, leaving you and your brother behind" San said, never breaking visual contact with me "You are the student with the best grades on your class and you are the teacher's favorite and even though you want to attend the prestigious Seoul national college, you don't know what to do in your life yet"

I was astonished, how did he get all his information?

As if on cue, he slipped a hand in my hair "It's been two years now Y/N, no one know you as much as I do. I know every single details about you but now, I don't want to look at your life from far away, I want to be apart of it" He smiled but frowned as I slowly stepped away from him "were you stalking me all this time?" I asked, heart beating fast.

"Come on, I know you are as obsessed over me as I am over you" He laughed before standing up and quickly doing his hair while looking his own reflect on the mirror “I was there every time you talked to your friend about me”

I watched his every move and couldn’t find anything to say. No matter how crazy it sounded, I knew he was right.

"And how are you gonna help me?"

"Your dad isn't all white, quite the contrary" He said "I know enough to tell him to let you be" He added.

"Are you going to... threaten him?" I looked at him through the mirror.

"Why? You don't want me to?" He smiled at me, his back still facing me.

I took a deep breathe.

"No... He deserves it"

He turned around and came closer to me with the widest smirk.

"So... Are you coming with me?"

I watched as the landscape kept changing from outside the window. The spacious car was moving in slow pace in a part of Seoul I never went in.

I knew it was the beginning of something new but everything seemed so unreal, the only thing that kept me back to reality was the warmth of San's hand intertwining with mine.

I quickly take a glance at the driver, his sharp nose and strong eyes made him look cold, a perfect contrast with his tanned skin. I was surprised by how young he was, probably not much older than San and I and obviously both of them were getting along with each other.

I was so focus on looking at the man and wondering who he was to San that I didn't took notice of my staring until I felt San squeezing my hand.

"Y/N...I'm not sure of how I feel about you looking at another man" He pouted cutely to grab my attention back to him. I laughed lowly and gave him a apologetic look "I'm not sure how I feel about you being jaleous while we are not in an official relationship yet" I smirked at him.

"The kiss wasn't official enough for you?" He smirked back "should I give you an other one then? " He asked, his face coming closer to mine.

His lips ghosted over mine but we were interrupted by a loud cough before we could properly touch each other.

"Please San, can you keep your hands for yourself until you both are alone? I don't especially want to see you guys kiss in the back seat of my car" The driver said in a rather annoyed tone.

"Look who is talking" San scoffed "Should I remind you how many times you made out with your girlfriend in front of me?"

The older man let out a dry laugh, his eyes still on the road.

After a few minutes of a comfortable silencex the driver looked at me from the front mirror.

"Your name is Y/N, right?"

"Yes... And you are..?"

"I'm Seonghwa. Park Seonghwa" He said "I'm glad to meet you, San wouldn't shut up and talk about you every fucking day" He laughed, earning another loud scoff from San.

"Watch your mouth, you are older but I'm still the boss here" San growled.

Suddenly, the car stopped abruptly.

"We safely came back to your home sir~" Seonghwa politely stated, not without a hint of teasing in his voice.

San pulled me out of the car, hand still holding mine firmly. I followed him and looked up at the huge mansion in front of us.

My mouth fell agape, this place was way bigger than mine.

"Welcome to your new house" San smiled.

----------- 

-----------

We are finally starting to introduce the others members!

Also this chapter is a bit shorter, I didn’t even noticed until I checked the number of words but I thought it was better this way, there was nothing to add since the next chapter was already done lol.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it!

See you next time~

Tag list:

@hijirikaww @pinkchampagne2 @xduygu-arsx @joongiebug @leicy0756

#ateez #mafia kpop #ateez san #ateez scenario #san x reader #ateez x reader #seonghwa #park seonghwa #choi san #choi san x reader #ateez imagine #choi san mafia au #ateez series #ateez mafia!au #ateez mafia #mafia au #ateez fluff #ateez angst #kpop au #kpop angst #kpop fluff #kpop series #kpop imagine #kpop scenarios #strangers to lovers

[physicalturian]

[G] A promise of hope - Gojo Satoru X GN!Reader

Request from @waywarduniversityshepherdturtle “Hi can i request for a jealous Gojo Satoru where out white haired guys is *kinda* intimidated with his s/o's good looking ex? Can start with an angst and end with a fluff ❤“

[No pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18] [No spoilers from the anime or the manga]

Words: 2817 Warning: Angst, fluff, mention of death (thought he died)

It all happened because of one small thing, one joke. But it was the joke too many. I was trying to have a proper, serious discussion and he had to take it light-heartedly. He had to fool around, I loved him deeply but now was not the time. I was worried for him. Yes, he was strong, one of the strongest if not the strongest, but I could not help but get antsy, waiting for him to come back to the apartment we shared. We had promised each other to always come back, it was a stupid agreement to come to considering our line of work, but it helped us, or at least it helped me get some sort of reassurance.

 Except he did not come home last night, I was left waiting alone in the apartment, anguish eating me up as I sat in the couch. From there I had a good view of the door, and I could see him if he entered, bloody, beaten or just tired. Most of the time, it was just tired, and I was glad for that, and on rare occasion there were a few scratches covering his clothes and skin. We would treat them, then go to bed.

 But tonight, was not like that, I waited and waited. The clock ticking nearby reminding me of the silence that was wrapped around me, the lack of presence in my home. The lack of partner being loud and obnoxious. I just waited. Time was running by, but not quickly enough, it was painfully slow and my heartbeat was going as fast as the awful thoughts in my mind. Maybe the curse was too strong? Maybe he was working with someone and they turned on him? Maybe he was… maybe he was dead.

Those thoughts plagued my mind and never left as stress coursed through my body. I was tempted to call him, but I knew it would be too risky to call during a mission. My hands clasped on my knees did not stay there long, I kept moving, shifting on the spot, hands dry and cold. My stomach churning. I could not get any ounce of sleep that night, I simply waited, and waited some more. He never came home.

 At some point during that restless night, I fell asleep. When I heard a sudden noise in the house, I was startled awake and was ready to use my power when I saw the grinning face of my partner who stood by the fridge. The door of the latter was open as he looked at me over his shoulder. Slowly, I let my arms fall to my side and felt all the tension leave my body before shuffling towards him. I did not know what to say, maybe I was overexaggerating, maybe… but I dreaded his death, and here he was, fresh as a daisy. “Heya, I didn’t want to wake you up, you seemed sound-“ “No. Don’t.” I interrupted him as I gripped his hand and made him let go of the fridge door.

 I then closed it and stood by him; I do not know what I was feeling. Enraged? Relieved? Seething… Exhausted, sad… “What? Are you okay-“ “I’m not! I’m not okay, I thought- I thought you had fucking died Satoru!” He chuckled in response. He waved a hand in front of me, dismissively, while smiling. “I can’t die that easily, come on, who do you think I am? Ye of little faith-“ “You did not come home…” I breathed out. I was surprised by how weak my voice sounded as I looked at the floor, I wanted to sleep. But I was very awake, so many emotions were mixing up inside me. “Itadori let me stay at his place, I was too tired.” He explained, adding that I was overreacting.

 “Am I? Am I really? … Maybe I am… but, you know you- we-“ I gulped and shook my head. “That promise of coming home, I’m holding onto that every night, because you promised you’ll come home…” He laughed, he placed a hand on my head and laughed. “Come on, it’s just a silly little thing-“ “It’s not though, I care about that a lot, so when you did not come back, I panicked.” I explained a bit heartbroken. I thought we both needed that promise, I thought it helped us both but maybe it was only to indulge me.

 Cradling my face in his hands, he looked at me without ever taking off his glasses, “You got a little worried for me? How cute, look at you all-“ I slapped his hands and turned away, feeling some sort of humiliation from how he was treating me. “Satoru? Fuck you, I’m asking you to be serious for two fucking minutes and you’re being an asshole. I thought you were dead; can you get that through your thick skull? Can you at least try to understand what I’m feeling or is it too much to ask?” I had no control over the anger, the frustration, seeping through my words. I was tired.

 Taking a deep breath, I exhaled in a calming manner, hoping it’d help. Once I calmed at least a little bit, I placed a hand on his cheek. “Forget it, you’re home, right? That’s what matters, right? So how about you get some rest, and I’ll go see a friend.” I tried to force a gentle smile on my face, but deep down I felt a need to let it all out. He reached out for me, but I shook my head, taking his hand a few seconds before letting go. He said he could get changed and he could come along, but I refused, telling him I just wanted to spend some time with my friend.

 After getting dressed, I left the apartment in a rush and called my old friend that also happened to be my ex-boyfriend. He picked up quite fast and greeted me energetically, I tried to match his eagerness but he noticed how off it sounded and asked me what was going on. “I… I need some advice, someone to talk to- It’s okay if you’re busy though- you know what, forget it-“ “No, no, I’m just jogging in the park, let’s meet up there? How long will you take?” He asked softly, I heard the microphone rub against his shirt as he ran and it was slightly unpleasant but I couldn’t say anything, at least he picked up.

 “Give me ten minutes, and I’ll be there. The usual spot?” I asked, he agreed and said we’d see each other soon, before hanging up. I arrived right on time at our usual spot, being a picnic table under a big tree by the pond in the park in which we met a few years back. I don’t regret our relationship, but we only dated because we thought that’s what was going on between us, love, except we were better off as friends.

 Once I arrived, I could see him sitting on the table, not the bench around it, as he chugged his large bottle of water. He was very sweaty and no amount of slight breeze could freshen up his looks, and yet he was still pretty handsome like that. I suppose I had taste. Even though I did not feel anything for him anymore, I could observe a painting and see he had charms, that did not change. “Hi gorgeous beast.” He said as he tried to pull me into a hug, but I pulled back telling him he stank. He chuckled and patted the spot next to him, “It’s the smell of hard work, you wouldn’t know.” I would usually laugh, but right now I was not in the best mood, and he noticed.

 He did not waste time and asked me right away what was going on, I was taken aback but told him, vaguely what was going on. I did not say my boyfriend was a sorcerer, nor did I tell him about curses but I mentioned we were in a dangerous line of work both of us and everything else he needed to know. “… And he always jokes around, most of the time I love it but today, I was just… I genuinely thought he had died, and he did not realize that and kept treating it light-heartedly.” I sighed.

 My friend hummed pensively before speaking, “I think he’s masking his own worry with jokes, and tried to make you feel better by doing it to you too? Like, you know, like, maybe if he made it seem like he was perfectly fine, you’ll feel better? I don’t know the man, but I don’t think he meant wrong- he’s just lacking some social cues clearly.” He explained with a light tone as he drank some more. “You’re right… I just, I just wished he had sent me a text, or at least hugged me when he got home, perhaps apologize… but that one is stupid because he did not do anything wrong, I don’t know what I want…”

 Huffing a laugh, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and brought me in a side hug. “Tell him that, I’ll give you a hug, if you want you can cry too, I’m already very moist anyway so, tears aren’t going to change much.” I hit his chest playfully when he said that and draped one arm over his back as I thought. “Yeah… you’re right… I miss him, I really want hold him right now, to feel him, know he’s alright, you know?-“ “Alright there, that’s a bit too much here, touch him if you will but please don’t tell me about it.” He said jokingly as he let go of me before standing up. “But now, for real, tell him that. I’m sure he’ll understand, he plays stupid but he ain’t dumb.” “Right, right… yeah. Thank you so much for indulging in my little twists and sob stories.”

 “Hey, anytime. I’m always there for you, alright? Come on, take care, see you around!” He said as we bumped our fists, before jogging off.

 After that, I went back home. When I walked up the stairs, I could hear heavy footsteps inside the apartment and slowly opened the door, careful not the make noise. What greeted me was no burglar, but it actually was my boyfriend who seemed to be pacing in the living room. I knew I could not catch him off guard, so when I dropped my keys in the bowl by the entrance, he turned towards me and rushed to my side. “Are you going to leave me? He’s hot, sure- but I can do better, I swear I didn’t mean-“ “Wait wait wait, what are you on about?” I cut him off in his ramble in a confused expression.

 “The man you were with-“ “You followed me? Satoru… Privacy, just privacy, I’m asking for a tiny bit of that…” He shook his head and gripped my biceps hard, “You were with another guy! Is it because of something I did? Do you want me to be more muscular? He’s hot, yeah, but is he as strong as me-“ I cut him off once more but gripping his jaw, not too tightly, but enough to purse his lips. “You’re jumping to conclusions. Do you think so low of me? To cheat on you?” “No- no cheating, like not yet but I would understand because he’s kind of looking like a Greek god-“ I sighed and let go of him, asking him to stop talking for one second.

 And surprisingly, he did. I took that opportunity to measure my words, before speaking carefully. “Don’t stalk me, and don’t assume shit about me, that’s the first thing.” I waited for him to nod, then continued, “He’s my ex-“ “You’re going back with your ex?! For one joke- come on, that’s-“ “I’m not cheating on you, what the fuck? Why do you think so low of me? What do I look like to you? Wait, you know what?” I hit his chest, not too hard but enough to let some anger out, then once more, and again, and again until I couldn’t feel the need to do it anymore. “That one fucking joke, I hated it! You’re strong asshole, sure, sure, ok. But anything could happen out there! And you did not come back, okay?” I let out a shaky breath, making Satoru a bit confused as he took off his glasses and looked at me, lost.

 “You might not care about that promise, but it helps me a lot… and until last night, you kept it… and in my head, the only image I could think of, was your motionless body, somewhere….” I let go of his shirt and moved away from him to sit on the floor, my back sliding against the wall. “And you laughed it off… It felt humiliating, and then, you think I’m cheating on you? No, I asked my ex, my best friend, what I should do, because I was hurt… and he just gave me good advice… As a friend.” I reiterated that part, to make sure my boyfriend understood who the man I hung out with, was.

 For once, the famous Gojo Satoru was speechless and he slowly knelt down by my side. His expression had no cockiness, no pride, no joy, just pain, understanding and sorry. “I did that… I didn’t mean to, I just feel like, I have to… I wanted to make you smile, I didn’t know how, so I thought you’d laugh a bit then kiss me, I didn’t realize you were that worried… I fucked up…” He was not a man known for his great words, he also had a hard time apologizing but I could feel he was feeling bad about it, but so was I and while he was sorry, my chest still ached. “I’m sorry babe�� I really hold onto that promise too, I just… I don’t know why I said that, I want to come home to you as much as I want you to come home to me safely.” He whispered as he took hold of my hand.

 Sighing I looked at our intertwined hands and tightened my grasp on his hand, his slender fingers brushing the back of my hand. “You’re strong, I know that but I can’t help it Sato… And I really want to know you’re safe-“ “How can I make you understand that I’m fine? I’m peachy, I swear, want to see my hot body-“ When he started to lift his shirt, I interrupted him, “Hug me. Just hug me, please.” My words struck confusion in him. He stared at me as he let go of the hem of his shirt, then slowly let go of my hand before bringing me close to his chest and laying down on the floor with me, not letting me go.

 It was a tight hug, not bone-crushing but perfectly tight. Warm, reassuring, loving…. I heard him whisper gentle words to my ears and brush his hands over my back as I enjoyed the moment. The ache in my chest was slowly dissipating, letting the heartwarming feeling of comfort take most of the space in it. But there was still one thing left to discuss.

 Clearing my throat, I heard my boyfriend hum curiously. “Did you really think I’d cheat on you just because he was hot?” I asked, dumbfounded. The white-haired man chuckled nervously and looked to the side, “I mean, to be fair, he’s like super hot, so you’d be in the right-“ I hit his chest, “Never! I would never cheat on you, plus you’re so much hotter, if that’s what you were worried about.” It was one of the rare times I could see a blush on his cheeks as he looked down at me, the angle making his chin look funny. But the blush quickly disappeared, “I know I am, I’m Gojo Satoru- I could probably beat him at his jog, I have a lot of stamina- and you know about that, I know how much you like what I do with my hand when you-“ “Hey, hey, it’s a cute moment, don’t ruin it. Yes, you’re cute, you’d beat him of course, hugs now.”

 He laughed and held me tight as his head hit the ground with a thud. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, I love you too much to go through that again…” I mumbled shyly against his chest. He placed a hand on the back of my head in response and kissed it gently, “I’ll try, I promise.”

 Those promises were not worth much in our line of work, but they kept me hoping and hope is what makes us live, hopefully it’ll be a long life.

#gojo satoru #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x gn reader #gojo satoru x gn reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo

[let-the-dream-begin]

When the World is Free Chapter 8: Oh God, I Don’t Stand a Chance

Chapter 7

Read on AO3

John could not say why he’d woken up. He hadn’t been dreaming of anything that would jar him awake, there was no sound. Rather, there was a lack of sound. Claire’s light snoring filled his ears…but Jamie’s heavy breathing did not join it.

And then he noticed the crying.

John turned over, having ended up with his back to Jamie, who had fallen asleep with John and Claire tucked into his sides. When he could see Jamie in the dim moonlight, his breath caught in his throat. He was stiff as a board, every muscle clenched, eyes squeezed shut, whimpering quietly.

“Jamie…?” He sat up a bit, leaning on his elbow.

This was not unlike the nights he’d woken to the sound of Claire’s weeping, when Jamie was dead, a whole other lifetime ago.

“Jamie,” he said again. “I’m here. It’s alright.”

His mouth opened to exhale with a small sob, and John felt his heart cleave in two.

“Was it another dream?” John whispered, gently running his fingertips over the creases in Jamie’s face. He knew of them, having even heard Jamie wake with a cry from the next room when he still slept on the couch. But Claire had always been the one to bring him down from that terror. John had to fight the urge to wake her, to ask her what to do.

No, Jamie needed to know he could trust John, needed to know that he would carry that burden just the same as Claire would.

“Open your eyes, Jamie,” John beckoned softly.

Jamie shook his head violently, sending a shiver up and down his body.

“You’re in your bedroom, I’m here, Claire is here, Brianna is across the room. There’s nothing to fear.”

He shook his head again, and tears leaked out of his squeezed eyes.

“What are you frightened of, love? Talk to me?”

“I…” Jamie rasped. “I can feel him.”

“Who?”

“He looked me in the eyes, smiling at me while he blew up…he’s all over me.”

Hayes.

“No, Jamie. There’s nothing on you but this blanket. You’re in your bed.” He willed his voice to be calm, swallowing back the bile that rose in his throat when he realized what Jamie had dreamt of.

“I can smell it…burning, rotting flesh…I canna get it off…”

“It’s off. It’s gone,” John assured him. “I promise. If you open your eyes you’ll see.”

Jamie just sobbed again.

“Can you…can you breathe for me, Jamie?” John tried a different tactic, knowing that Claire had used this for both of them at various times when the ghosts of the war got the best of them. “You can keep your eyes closed. Just breathe, love. Please.”

Jamie obeyed, breathing through his mouth. John coaxed him into breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth, realizing that perhaps he was afraid to inhale too deeply through his nose, lest he smell more burning flesh.

“Can you smell Claire’s perfume?” John said. “That sweet vanilla, mixed with that herbal smell that follows her everywhere?”

He watched Jamie’s throat bob, his teeth grinding. He inhaled shallowly through his nose. “Aye…I do.”

“Good, that’s good.” John stroked back Jamie’s sweaty curls. “What about me? Do you smell my cologne?”

Jamie breathed in deeper through his nose. “Aye.”

“Good.” He continued stroking Jamie’s head. “And baby powder. This whole place always smells of baby powder.”

He could swear Jamie’s lips quirked up as if he wanted to smile, but the strain in his muscles wouldn’t let him. “Aye. I can smell it.”

“See? It smells like home, Jamie. You’re home.”

John coaxed a few more deep breaths out of him, and then Jamie’s eyes fluttered open, meeting John’s gaze.

“There you are,” John whispered, cupping his face.

“John…” Jamie blinked rapidly, his chest heaving.

“It’s alright.” John leaned down and kissed him sweetly, chastely, on the lips, then each cheek, his forehead, then his lips again. “I’m here.”

Jamie leaned up and kissed him back, wrapping his arms around him, hands splaying on his back.

“Christ…” Jamie breathed, eyes glistening. “I love you, man.”

John laughed wetly, still not used to hearing that. “I love you too, Jamie. So painfully much.”

The baby stirred, and only then did Claire wake up, more alert than she should have been for three in the morning. Miraculously, they’d all fallen asleep clothed that night, so she just slid out of bed and took Brianna in her arms, flicking on the lamp on the nightstand. When she was settled in the rocking chair, child at her breast, she finally noticed that the men were awake, and had frozen with their hands all over each other. Claire smirked, her eyes half shut.

“Please, don’t stop on my account,” she said wryly, her voice slurring.

John was looking over his shoulder at her, and he turned back to Jamie, laughing quietly through his nose, and delighted to see Jamie shaking with quiet laughter as well. Jamie finished pulling John on top of him, but did not ravage him with kisses as John had anticipated. He merely held him there, as if he were a human blanket draped across his chest, arms wrapped bodily around John’s smaller frame. John buried his face in Jamie’s neck, no kissing or suckling, just resting, breathing, savoring.

This somehow felt more intimate to John than any time their cocks had been inside one another.

They remained like this, holding onto each other for dear life, until the sound of their daughter’s drinking ceased, and Claire’s telltale sigh of relief announced that Brianna was finally back in the cradle. John felt the bed shift and heard Claire thud into it with a groan, lamp flicking off.

“Don’t be too bloody loud,” she grumbled, and then her snoring resumed.

John had to bite down on his lip to stop himself from laughing out loud. Only Claire could get out of bed and breastfeed only half awake, acknowledge that her husbands were in the position to become intimate, and then fall right back asleep as if she’d never woken in the first place.

“D’ye suppose she ever truly woke up?” Jamie whispered into John’s ear, his voice dancing with mirth.

“Did she sleepwalk, you mean?” John whispered into his neck.

“Aye, I believe she did.”

John laughed softly and began kissing Jamie’s neck, laughing still between kisses. Jamie dragged his face out of the crook of his neck. “Come here,” he growled, kissing him deeply, swirling their tongues together. “I want to feel alive, John. Wi’ you, right now.”

John rode him, taking him in deeply, biting his own lip and Jamie’s lip to stifle his cries, lest they provoke the sleeping beast inches away from them. Jamie clawed at his back, then fisted his cock, until they were coming together, lips sealed together.

John fell asleep again, sprawled on Jamie’s chest, the scent of their combined sweat and seed swirling in his nose, all too aware of how blessed he was to be somebody that made Jamie Fraser feel alive.

——

On a brisk, foggy night in April, long after dark, Claire pushed Brianna’s pram along the sidewalks of London, trailed closely by her boys. Jamie had not stopped asking questions the whole while, very much not a fan of the fact that John and Claire knew what was going on when he did not.

They’d been planning this for weeks, she and John, ever since that night of the dinner party that Jamie had had to watch John and Claire go off to. Claire’s stomach was tumbling over and over, her heart lurching. Added to that anxiety was the fact that her fingers had not been bare for months and months, years if she just thought of Jamie’s ring alone. She kept going to twist the rings on her hands, only to come up empty, be reminded of why she was nervous, and then feel ill all over again. One of the pockets of her coat felt like it weighed fifty pounds, jangling as it was with two different rings.

It was late enough that not a soul lingered in the streets, save the occasional drunk stumbling out of a bar that wouldn’t remember them in the morning if his life depended on it. That was exactly what they’d wanted, what they’d needed.

She glanced behind her at the boys, dressed in fine coats over their button-downs and ties. She herself was dressed in her finest white dress falling to her mid-calf and trimmed with lace, hugging all her curves in a way she knew to be pleasing from the way Jamie ogled at her before she put her coat on. It wasn’t the wedding dress she’d imagined as a little girl, but neither was this the wedding she’d imagined.

When they arrived at the church, Jamie still didn’t seem to have gotten the hint. It was open, of course, being that God’s doors were always open, but it was empty, and pitch black, save for one electric light in a corner for any lost souls who needed entry.

“Her baptism isna fer several weeks yet,” he interjected as John and Claire began lighting candles. “Her wee nose is frozen, taking her out in the dead of night like this! What is the meaning of this?”

Claire and John exchanged a look as Jamie grumbled something about Sassenachs to his daughter.

“Really, now,” Jamie demanded. “What is the meaning of this?”

“You don’t realize yet?” Claire said, willing her voice to be steady. She unbuttoned her coat and slid it off, bearing the white dress to him once again. She reached into her coat pocket and scooped out the rings. John positioned Brianna’s pram in front of the altar and stepped onto it, and Claire joined him.

“I’m wearing white…” Claire whispered. “My hands are bare…”

“Yer...what…?”

“Come up here, Jamie,” John beckoned, and Jamie obeyed, his eyes narrowing. He dropped something into the palm of Jamie’s hand, and Jamie recoiled with shock.

“Why’re ye giving me yer ring, Sassenach?” His voice was laced with panic.

“I’m not giving it to you,” Claire said. “You’re giving it to me. Again.”

“What…?”

“It’s the Church wedding you always wanted, Jamie,” John said gently.

His face fell slack with shock, and Claire swallowed against a sandpaper throat.

“That’s....my ring, from you, for us to renew our vows,” she said, her voice small and timid. “And that’s a new gold band. For you to give to John.”

Jamie stared, unblinking and unmoving at the rings in his palm. Claire glanced nervously at John.

“These are from me, to you both.” Claire produced the rings she had bought. “They’re both set with amber.”

Jamie grinned crookedly, staring at them. “One fer each of yer eyes.”

Claire beamed. “Exactly. I...I remember you said when we were apart that you’d...you’d stare into your whisky and…”

“Pretend I was drowning in yer eyes,” Jamie finished for her. “I remember.”

He still did not look up, so Claire closed her hand around the amber rings and looked to John again.

“And these,” John took over, reaching into his pocket again. “Are for each of you. Claire’s old wedding band from the courthouse to renew our vows, and a new band for you.”

John placed the third ring in Jamie’s palm, and handed the other to Claire. “I got them engraved. I wanted Claire’s to mean something more now that our marriage means something more than it did that day. And of course yours had to be, too.”

Jamie squinted into the ring, his nose scrunching. “When I’m not with you…?” he read, confused.

“It’s...the second half. Claire’s is the first.”

He turned to Claire expectantly, who peered into her ring. “I don’t live at all…” Her breath caught in her throat.

“Hemingway,” Jamie said as it dawned on him. “Farewell to Arms.”

“Yes,” John said chuckling nervously. “‘Why, darling, I don’t live at all when I’m not with you.’”

“Oh, John…” Claire breathed.

“Either of you,” he clarified, though he hadn’t needed to.

“It’s beautiful,” Claire said thickly, handing it back to him. “So thoughtful. As you always are.”

Jamie wet his lips as he returned the ring to John, blinking several times. “So ye mean to…”

“To handfast,” John finished. “Yes.”

Jamie blinked, and then said, rather stupidly, “Ye need a witness.”

Claire couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her. “You stupid, bloody Scot…” She cupped his face, forcing him to look her in the eye, look up from his palm for the first time in several minutes. “You and I didn’t have one the first time. You said God himself was enough of a witness. Isn’t that still true?”

Jamie nodded minutely. “Aye,” he said hoarsely. “Suppose you’re right.”

“And besides,” Claire added. “Brianna is right there.”

Jamie snorted, then sniffled. “D’ye ken yer daughter at all, Sassenach? She’ll sleep like a rock right through it.”

They all three shared a laugh at this, before sobering up rather quickly.

“Do you...want to do this, Jamie?” John said quietly. “It was Claire’s idea, and I...well, it would make me...beyond joyful to be married to you, darling. In the eyes of who matters.” Claire shifted one of her hands, and then she was cupping one of Jamie’s cheeks, and John the other. “Each other, our daughter, and God.”

Silent tears trickled down Jamie’s cheeks, and John and Claire each wiped them away.

“Will you marry us, Jamie?” Claire whispered, her forehead pressed to his.

“Aye,” he answered hoarsely. “Aye, I will.”

Out of sheer relief, Claire laughed again, and then kissed him fervently. John kissed his cheek as she did, and Jamie managed a wet smile at them both as they pulled apart. Jamie looked into his palm again, at the thistle ring that had lived on Claire’s hand for years, and at the plain gold band.

“I canna give ye this,” he said to John. “I had this one made fer Claire, chose every painstaking detail...this isna so much as engraved. I canna wed ye wi’ this.”

“Don’t worry about that,” John said quickly. “It’s my fault for that. We wanted to surprise you. You can replace it with whatever you want later.”

“Wait.” Something changed in Jamie’s face; the candlelight caught his eye differently, giving a little skip in its never-ending, flickering dance. He went for his right middle finger and twisted off the ring that lay there, and Claire’s breath caught in her throat.

“Jamie…” John breathed. “I couldn’t…”

“Yes, ye can.”

It was Brian’s ring, set with the ruby in a golden, ornate band. Jamie had proudly declared that one day, their first-born son would wear it, and Claire had mourned its loss along with Jamie, supposedly blown out of the sky with him, knowing that she could not carry out that promise with the baby they’d thought would be Brian.

“But your…your father…” John stammered. “He meant for it to be passed down…”

“Aye, and it will be,” Jamie interrupted, taking John’s hand in his. “To our son. A gift he can carry wi’ him when both his fathers are gone.”

Were the moment not so beautiful, Claire might have snarked that it was bold of them to assume she’d be carrying any more children. Besides, deep down, she knew she wanted to anyway.

Then, very suddenly, she could see it. She could see their big house, filled to the brim with their brood, brown and red hair alike, constant cacophonies of Da, Daddy, and Mummy echoing through the halls. She could see a little boy with John’s nose and Jamie’s eyes (though she knew this, scientifically, made no sense, her heart couldn’t be bothered correcting itself) sitting in John’s lap, fiddling with the ruby that would someday be his, while Jamie told stories of the grandfather that had once worn it.

Our legacy.

John sniffled, bringing Claire back from the future. His forehead was resting against Jamie’s, Jamie cupping the back of his head. Claire kissed both of their cheeks in turn, and then she lowered herself onto her knees, and they followed.

“D’ye remember?” Jamie asked, his eyes and face resembling those of a sweet puppy. “From the last time?”

Claire took his hand and squeezed. “I remember every single second.”

She reached with her other hand for John’s, and watched as they, too, laced their hands together. “We’ll both go first,” Claire said to John. “Repetition to help you remember, and all that.”

“Right,” John chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

Claire inhaled and then exhaled with a tremor, and John and Jamie both squeezed one of her hands, both of them in tune with her nerves, her need to be soothed, at the same time.

“I, Claire Elizabeth, do take thee, John William, to be my lawful wedded husband. And I take thee, James Alexander, to be my lawful wedded husband.” She met each of their eyes in turn, and the roiling in her stomach gradually faded into gentle waves on soft sand. “With my goods, I thee both endow, with my body, I thee both worship. In sickness and in health, in richness and in poverty, as long as we all shall live.” Her voice caught at the last second, and she blinked away the salty blurriness in her eyes.

She sniffled and unlaced their hands so she could place each ring on their respective hands. “I plight thee my troth,” she beamed at Jamie, sliding the gold band on his right hand, “And I plight thee my troth.” She slid the other ring on John’s finger, and she very nearly burst into tears at the joy on his face. Never had he shone so bright.

Claire kissed each of their rings as she had seen Jamie do to her thistle ring more times than she could count, then re-laced their hands.

She swallowed thickly and looked up at Jamie. “Your turn.”

He cleared his throat. “I, James Alexander, do take thee, Claire Elizabeth, to be my lawful wedded wife. And I do take thee, John William…” Jamie blinked rapidly, pausing to collect himself, and Claire’s tears finally spilled over, albeit silently. “I take thee, John William, to be my lawful wedded…husband.”

Claire had thought perhaps it would sound strange to hear that coming from a man’s voice. But it didn’t. She supposed Jamie had anticipated it feeling strange as well, but given the way he seemed to glow, just the same way John was, Claire supposed she and Jamie were in agreement.

It was beautiful.

“With my goods, I thee both endow, with my body, I thee both worship,” he went on, “in sickness and in health, in richness and in poverty, as long as we all shall live.”

He mirrored Claire, producing the thistle ring once again, and his father’s ring. “I plight thee,” he slipped the ring back in its rightful place on Claire’s hand, “and thee,” Brian’s ring found its new home on John’s left hand, and the world seemed like it was falling into place, “my troth.”

He fervently and reverently kissed each ring as Claire had done, and then Claire and Jamie both looked expectantly to John.

He was weeping.

“Oh, love…” Claire croaked, taking his hand again and squeezing. “It’s alright…”

John nodded. “It’s just…I never…never thought…”

“Shh…�� Claire brushed away his tears with her free hand, and Jamie nuzzled into the crook of John’s neck.

“Never thought I’d…have this…”

He was shuddering, nearly inconsolable.

“Oh, darling…” Claire kissed each new tear as it fell, and Jamie rubbed his back, whispering Gaelic.

“We’re right here, John,” Jamie said, in English. “Always.”

John took a deep breath before beginning in a hoarse, strained voice: “I, John William, do take thee, Claire Elizabeth, to be my lawful wedded wife. And I take thee, James Alexander, to be my lawful wedded husband.”

Claire could not even imagine the relief that John felt to say that after a lifetime of thinking, knowing he’d never have a true husband.

“With my goods, I thee both endow, with my body, I thee both worship. In sickness and in health, in richness and in poverty, as long as we all shall live.” Each engraved ring found their rightful place as he said, “I plight thee my troth,” to his husband and his wife.

Jamie beamed tearfully, glancing back and forth between them. “By the power vested in us by God the Almighty, with He as our witness, and…she as well,” he flicked his eyes over to Brianna, fast asleep in the pram, her sacred duty as witness clearly being taken very seriously, “I now pronounce us man, and man, and wife.”

Claire launched herself forward to kiss Jamie, lingering for as briefly as she could possibly allow herself before switching over to John. She pulled back to let her husbands share their first kiss as man and man, and then they were a tangled mess of limbs and mouths and tears and tongues, until Claire did not know who she was kissing and where.

They went on as long as they could in good conscious, being that they were, after all, in a church. They somehow managed to peel themselves away from each other and off the floor. They each blew out a few candles, and then they were off, Claire pushing the pram, her boys trailing behind.

“I told ye she’d sleep through the whole damn thing.”

John and Claire laughed out loud, and Jamie joined, the three of them caving into one another as they stumbled down the sidewalk, delirious with glee.

——

It was well past midnight, so the streets were empty, and even if they weren’t, Jamie did not think he would have given a single damn. He’d have held John’s hand anyway, swinging it between them, he’d have occasionally kissed his cheek anyway, he’d have kept his other hand over Claire’s on the pram anyway, kissed her cheek anyway. He was on top of the world tonight, renewed and reborn, baptized in that church the same way Brianna had been, wiped clean of sin by the strength of someone’s love.

There was nothing earthly to explain what he had found with Claire and John. Nothing explainable could possibly be applied to it. So Jamie reasoned it must have come from a higher power, and he had to believe that higher power to be the Almighty. So any man could spit on them, could curse them, could hate them. But Jamie knew in the deepest depths of his soul that they had no right.

What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder.

Claire giggled in his ear, and John laughed heartily in response, leaning over Jamie to peck her briefly. Jamie pecked them each on the cheek, not even knowing what they were laughing about.

Never before had God created something so pure, so free of sin, as this love. And who was Jamie, or John, or Claire, or anybody at all to dishonor something so lovingly and thoughtfully given?

Claire spent far longer than was necessary getting Brianna warm, bundling her in four blankets, none of which had been used in the pram. There were moments where Jamie adored watching his wife fuss over their daughter, could sit for hours and watch her rock the swaddled bundle, coo and babble incessantly.

Now was not one of those times.

The very second Brianna was down in the cradle, both Jamie and John were upon her. Before she could so much as gasp, Jamie captured her lips with his, and John began suckling at her neck. She melted into them, and together they got her undressed and pushed her into the bed. In tandem, they kissed every delicious inch of her, and Jamie’s cock grew harder by the second, listening to her sweet noises, and John’s to accompany. It was one thing to savor her himself, but to hear another savoring her just the same was exquisite.

They alternated between suckling her breasts and kissing one another, and they both began teasing her entrance at once. Jamie grinned wickedly at John, who returned the smirk, but Claire stopped them, putting her hands on their heads. She shook her head, breathless.

“I want you inside me,” she panted. “Both of you.”

Jamie could feel his cock strain painfully. This…they had never tried.

Claire, in all her glorious, vulgar curiosity, had demanded, a few weeks ago, to be shown what the men feel when they have each other inside them.

“I’m ready,” Claire said, her amber eyes entirely liquid, dark, and hooded.

John and Jamie had experimented with her pleasure there with tongues and fingers, but never before had either of them taken her there.

Well, neither of them were capable of denying her anything.

They crawled up the length of her writhing body, shining with sweat like a pearl on the shore, and gave each other another lingering, smoldering kiss that sent Jamie’s head swimming. He reached into the nightstand for the grease, and allowed Claire to lather his cock for her, all while she lazily sucked on John, cupping and squeezing his balls. When Claire was satisfied with Jamie, he reciprocated, greasing her slit and entrance thoroughly and sliding a few experimental fingers in. When he was confident that she’d not be uncomfortable, he put the grease away, John slid his cock out of her mouth, and she laid on her side.

This was their most intimate position, lying together like spoons in a drawer, like they did when they slept, the two ends making eye contact, the one in the middle going back and forth, all three of them clinging to one another. It was fitting for tonight, Jamie thought. Their wedding night.

He caressed the lovely roundness of her arse, then ran his hand down the back of her thigh, gently pushing up. She wrapped her leg around John’s waist and bit her lip, looking back at Jamie. He maintained eye contact with her as he inched inside, and she gasped, immediately tensing.

“It’s alright,” John soothed. “You have to let your body relax, love.”

She moaned, a delicious, intoxicating sound, and it was all Jamie could do to not sheath himself to the hilt. But he would not hurt her, would rather cut the appendage off than hurt her. So he went slow, becoming more and more intoxicated with every inch, every cry she loosed, every heave of her breast. Jamie bit down on her shoulder, finally breaking eye contact as he fully sheathed himself, holding onto her breast as if for dear life. He was nearly certain his handprint would be there tomorrow.

“How does it feel?” Jamie growled, seeing stars.

“It’s…oh, God…” Claire whimpered, wriggling against him.

“Aye, mo ghraidh, feel it…”

She whined, grinding back against him, and he groaned, willing himself to remain still, to let her adjust her own way. He watched as John kissed her deeply, touching where Jamie was not, gentle and soft with his hands in all the ways Jamie was rough and uncontrollable. She continued to writhe against him, setting her own pace right up until Jamie thought he’d go mad if he didn’t start moving, however minutely. Then, she kissed him, then turned to look John in the eye.

“Go on, love,” she crooned, hiking her leg higher up on his waist, drawing him impossibly closer. 

Jamie exhaled tremulously, licking his lips as John lined himself up, feeling his cock twitch at the sound of his groan, at the ragged gasp that tore from Claire. In that moment, all of John’s gentleness was gone, and he gripped her arse with the same fierceness that Jamie braced himself on her breast. Christ, Jamie could feel John on the other side of that thin wall of flesh. He would not, could not last long this way. And judging by the sounds she was making, neither would Claire. And by God, he would take John with them.

And then, they were all three moving together. It was impossible to decipher who started. All Jamie knew was that they were one. It was tender, so beautifully tender. They all touched each other anywhere and everywhere, John and Jamie kissed over Claire, she kissed John, craned back to kiss Jamie. As they grew more frantic, Jamie planted his hand on John’s arse, sealing them all impossibly closer. Claire threaded one arm behind her, tangling her fingers in Jamie’s hair, and the other around John’s neck, fisting his hair.

“Oh, I love you…” Claire whimpered, kissing John sloppily, and yet tightening her grip on Jamie’s hair. “Oh, please…please…”

Jamie ground circles inside of her, hardly sliding out at all, and John hammered into her with growing ferocity.

“With all my heart, I love you,” John cried hoarsely, kissing one, then the other.

Neither of them specified which you they were talking to, but they did not need to. Jamie was unable to speak, and then Claire was climaxing, shrieking, every wall within her clenching so tightly that it immediately drove Jamie right over the edge, and by the sound of it, John as well. Jamie could not see anything but stars, did not know whose mouth he claimed, whose hands gripped him where. They were three parts of the same whole, falling into oblivion together.

The world came back to Jamie in pieces, starting with a tickle under his nose that he immediately knew to be Claire’s curlywig hair. The next piece was a heavy, feral panting, a sound he’d come to love nearly as much as the man who made it. Then his eyes fluttered open, and then he was aware of his softening cock still inside Claire, and John’s as well, still nestled inside.

Claire’s eyes were closed as well, her chest was heaving, her lips parted. Jamie ran his hand up her arm and traced two fingers around the rim of her beautiful lips, and she moaned quietly, closing her mouth around them, suckling sweetly. John brushed a frazzled mess of curls out of her face and kissed her forehead, then kissed the knuckles of Jamie’s hand that was half dipped in Claire’s mouth.

“You were made for me,” Jamie broke the silence in a hoarse whisper, as if hesitant to have spoken at all. “Both of ye. And I am nothing wi’out either of ye.”

Why, darling, I don’t live at all when I’m not with you.

He noted that John had tears lingering on his cheeks, likely having cried through this climax. Jamie wasn’t all too sure he hadn’t as well. He slid his fingers out of Claire’s mouth and brushed away John’s tears with his dry thumb. It would have appeared that Claire had already fallen asleep, had she not tugged insistently on John’s head, bringing him to lay on her breast. She sighed contently, never once opening her eyes, and stroked John’s arse with the heel of the foot still draped over his waist.

“My husband,” John breathed in disbelief, cupping Jamie’s face.

“Aye, mo chridhe,” Jamie answered, kissing his fingers and bringing the hand to rest on his chest. “And you are mine.”

Jamie draped his enormous, too-large arm over both Claire and John, able to splay his hand on John’s back even with Claire between them. And then, Jamie fell into a dead sleep, his cock still inside his wife, and his husband’s hand on his heart.

#outlander #outlander au #outlander fanfiction #Claire Fraser #Jamie Fraser #John Grey #Lord John Grey #john x claire #john x jamie #john x jamie x claire #jjc #throuple #ot3

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

BTS DRABBLE-OT7

It’s interesting, isn’t it, the lengths a person will go to in order to survive when pushed beyond breaking point? The world is crazy, and people are insane, but you can’t fault them, because all you want to do-all anyone wants to do-is survive. And with each new game, as the difficulty increases, the will to survive-to fight-is getting weaker and weaker, the challenges growing harder and harder. And yet, you’re still fighting, because what is life, other than a constant struggle to try to survive? Because honestly-to win-all you have to do is stay one step ahead of the person behind you. 

An Alice in Borderland/BTS Crossover AU

Warnings: Gore, Death, Major Character Death, Violence, Dark Overall Themes-It’s not a happy one, folks. 

Genre: Angst

Title: King of Hearts

You duck behind the corner and instantly go into a crouch, breath coming fast between lips that feel dry and cracked, heart fluttering so desperately in your chest that it feels like a caged bird trapped behind your ribs.

You swallow, and you can taste the bitter, acrid taste of blood on your tongue. But it’s not yours-no-you had been a little too close to another unfortunate player of the game just as they were blown into pieces. 

You squeeze your eyes shut for the briefest of moments, trying not to remember the sound of parts of a body hitting the ground, or the way the hot blood had showered over you, as you stood, frozen in fear, just for the hint of a second. 

Your eyes come back open, and your fingers dig into the brick of the wall you hide behind, as you try to quiet your breathing and listen for footsteps. 

You cannot let your guard down for one second in this game-that you know for sure. 

So you had not let yourself pause for even a moment, pushing yourself beyond your limits, to run away from the unlucky player, and find the quickest and nearest hiding spot. 

There is the sound of cautious footsteps coming down the hall. 

“Dammit.” You hiss beneath your breath, clinging back against the wall, hopeful that they will pass by, praying that they won’t hear the sound of your heartbeat-loud in your own ears. 

You wait, breath held, for what feels like an eternity, as the footsteps grow closer. 

And then, someone comes around the corner. 

Your breath explodes past your lips, and your shoulders relax the barest amount, as the man comes into view, odd shade of mint colored hair-stringy with sweat-falling into dark eyes, as he catches sight of you. 

Crouching down beside you, you can feel the heat waves from his body-probably the same he can feel from yours-produced from fear, adrenaline, and the will to stay alive-and you glance at him from the corner of your eye. 

His lips barely move as he speaks to you, eyes scanning the open apartment courtyard below your hiding spot. “You came with the other two guys, right?” 

You swallow and nod, letting yourself, for the briefest moment, wonder if they are still alive, and then you breathe back, “Yeah. We’ve done a couple games together now.” 

The man beside you grunts in acknowledgement, eyes still not reaching your face, and you note, in that moment, that he is holding some sort of long pipe clenched in his fists. An odd weapon against a hunter who holds a machine gun. But you guess it’s better than nothing. 

The two of you fall into tense silence-because what else is there to say in a moment like this-and then the sudden chiming of the phones in your pockets makes you jump, though the man beside you barely tilts his head in response. 

Reaching into your jacket for the cursed device, you read the announcement that crosses the brightly lit screen. 

“Ten minutes left in the game. 5 out of 20 participants remain.” 

“Only five?” You can’t stop yourself from breathing out in disbelief, and the man beside you shifts on his haunches. 

“We’ve gotta find that safe room.” He mutters beneath his breath, and stands, dragging you upward by the coat, as you let out a slight sound of protest. “C’mon. We’ll cover each other.” 

He ducks his head around the corner, supposedly checking for any sight of the pursuant, and pulls you out from your hiding spot behind him, fingers still clasped around the metal pipe. 

It’s the best plan you’ve got at this point. 

The two of you keep close to the wall, and as the man with the mint hair watches either sides of the corridor, you turn the knobs of the apartment doors blindly behind your back, as you jog on quiet, hurried steps toward the next stairwell. 

When you reach the intersection, the man turns to you, and leans toward you, pressing his lips to your ear as he whispers, “You go up. Check the next floor. I’ll head down.” He signals with his head, and waits for you to nod, though you feel as if you’re going to throw up. “Call out if you find the safe room.” 

And with that, he is gone, disappearing silently down the stairwell. 

You jog upward, and you have just reached the landing of the next floor, when the sound of heavy, booted footsteps echoes from the floor above you. 

You hit the ground, scuttling back against the wall, eyes trained upward, even though you can’t see anything through the concrete. 

You swallow back the sound of your panicked gasp, as the roar of gunfire echoes from overhead, and then a loud thud-one you are all too familiar with-crashes onto the concrete above you. 

You don’t think then. You know where the tagger is, so you run, you run in the direction you were going, frantically trying every single door as you go. 

“Shit, shit, shit.” You whisper over and over under the sound of your lungs gasping for air, and your sneakers skidding on the floor, as you sprint around the next corner. 

You slide to a halt, your shoes slipping slightly in the pool of blood that greets you-garish crimson against the gray of the cement-and you feel as if a whoosh of relieved air leaves your body, at the sight of the other man’s form hunched over the fallen player. 

“Jimin.” You choke out, already stepping toward him, your sneakers now soaked with the liquid that covers the floor at your feet. 

The man looks up-wide, dark eyes startled-and jumps up when he catches sight of you, pulling you into a desperate hug before you can even react. 

“(Y/N). Holy shit.” The petite, dark haired man stutters out your name, his nose buried in your sweaty, damp hair, his fingers trembling against the skin of your back through your dirty t-shirt. “You’re alive.” 

“Where’s Jungkook?” You ask, before you can process what he is saying, just glad to feel his warm, alive body in your arms. 

“Oh shit.” Jimin pulls back from you, eyes even wider than before, and you notice, for the first time, that his flawless, tan skin is dotted with a map of bloody marks. “He found the safe room. It’s on the fourth floor.” 

“What?” You cough out, eyes now wider than the man across from you. You grip his shirt in your hands and shake him slightly. “Why aren’t you there?” 

“I was looking for you.” Jimin shrugs, and his fingers-dirty and calloused and wet with a liquid you don’t want to think about-intertwine with yours, as he pulls you toward the stairwell. “Come on. We don’t have much time.” 

As if on cue, the phones in your pockets chime, and the woman’s voice announces, bouncing off the walls of the building, “5 minutes left. 4 players remain.” 

“Wait-wait.” You pull Jimin to a halt, and he looks over his shoulder at you as if you’re crazy. “That man-the one who helped me-” You glance over the balcony to your left frantically, as if to look for him on the floor below you. “He doesn’t know.” 

“Who cares??” Jimin asks with slight panic in his voice, tugging you once more toward the stairs. “We have to go now, (Y/N)!” 

You know he’s right. But you can’t just leave the man to die. 

And so, you do something stupid-so stupid, you’re sure it’s a death sentence. 

You yell-as loud as you can-down into the empty apartment courtyard. 

“Hey! The safe room is on the fourth floor! Tagger was last heard on the third!” 

Jimin’s hand slaps over your mouth hard enough to make you wince, and now he is forcibly dragging you for the stairs. “What the hell are you doing??” 

You stumble over your feet as you rip from his grip, and both of you take the stairs-two at a time-up to the next floor. The floor where you last heard the gunshots. 

“He doesn’t know.” You whisper out, but are silenced, as Jimin comes to a halt in front of you on the next landing, putting a finger to his lips, as his eyes flit toward the third floor doorway. 

You feel your heart start to pound in your chest, as heavy footsteps suddenly sound, headed in your direction. 

And then there is gunfire above your heads-ricocheting off the walls of the stairwell-and Jimin is pushing you forward, his voice loud in your ear, as he yells frantically, “Go!” 

And the two of you are blindly sprinting up what’s left of the stairwell, and the sound of bullets is almost deafening, as you pass through the open doorway onto the fourth floor. 

And Jungkook is at the end of the hallway, you can see him, screaming and waving his arms from the blackness of an opened doorway-the doorway to the safe room. 

Jimin stumbles behind you, as the footsteps sound on the stairs, and you’re dragging him upward with every last inch of your strength, pulling him toward the open doorway and Jungkook and-

You make it

The door slams behind the two of you, and all that you can hear, in the darkness of the room, is the three of you panting heavily, and then the chime of all of your phones, simultaneously. 

“30 seconds remain.” 

“Shit.” You hear Jungkook swear heavily under his breath, and then a hand grabs yours in the darkness, and you are pulled blindly into the next room. “We have to hit the buttons.” 

“What?” You sound slightly hysterical, as you are pulled into a lightened room, and you struggle to make your eyes adjust. “What buttons?” 

“These.” 

Jungkook stumbles to a stop in front of you, and you run into him in your partially blind state. 

That voice-

You glance around Jungkook, and the mint haired man is standing in the room, broken window behind him, glass shattered across the floor, and he’s bleeding, from a gash on his forehead, but you don’t think he has noticed. 

He is pointing to two large red buttons on either wall, and he offers the two of you a slight smirk, pipe still held in one fist. “And we better hurry.” 

“Guys!” There is the sound of Jimin from the other room, and then the crash of the door being pounded from outside, in the hallway. And his voice raises in volume, and you hear a grunt of effort. “Hurry up!” 

You step around Jungkook, and nod to the mysterious man. “Go.” 

And you both push the buttons. 

Nothing happens for a breathless moment, and then-

The chime of the phones. And no more pounding at the door. 

“Game Cleared. Congratulations.” 

*******

The next time Yoongi sees you-two games later-you look more specter than human. 

Standing in the corner, you are talking quietly to a man-one of the boys from before, Yoongi realizes-and though your eyes were dark and haunted when he last met you-in the hallway of the apartment complex, trying to escape the man with the machine gun-they are even emptier now, if that’s possible. 

“Who are you staring at, hyung?” His companion’s voice sounds low in his ear, pulling Yoongi from his thoughts, as he reaches up to push a hand through his hair, already sticking with the start of sweat to his forehead. “Is that the girl? From before?” 

Yoongi drops his gaze from you, glancing over at the younger man, who must have followed his eyes to the other side of the room, where you are still standing with the blonde haired man. “Yeah.” He simply grunts, sticking his hands into the pockets of his dirty jeans and scuffing the tile beneath his feet with one worn sneaker. 

“The guy she’s with is pretty hot.” Taehyung muses, almost to himself, and there is a slight grin to his tone, as he nudges Yoongi in the side, as if trying to lighten the mood. “Different times, am I right, hyung?” 

Yoongi is about to tell him to shut up-not appreciating the humor-when the sound of a chime echoes throughout the room, bouncing off the tiled walls, and the empty basin of the swimming pool that separates his group from yours. 

The robotic-like woman’s voice fills the room, as all six players glance down at the screens of the identical phones in their hands. 

“Eight of diamonds. Please proceed to the pool.” 

Yoongi does as he’s told, Taehyung-now silent-following closely on his heels. It does nothing to try and fight the instructions. Not if you want to live. 

Yoongi drops over the side of the empty pool easily, his sneakers reverberating on the cold concrete with a solid thud, as Taehyung lands-slightly crouched to take the impact-beside him. 

“Diamonds dammit.” The younger man curses beneath his breath, black bangs sliding into his eyes, which are dark now with anticipation. 

“We’ll be fine.” Yoongi concedes gruffly, glancing around at the other players now in the bottom of the empty pool with them. 

There’s you, and the guy you’re allied with, and in the farthest corner, stands a tall, strongly built man, cracked glasses perched on the end of his nose, dark eyes scanning the room intelligently, face unreadable. 

“What’s going on?” The other player-a younger woman-asks fearfully, loudly into the waiting space between everyone. 

Yoongi notes that her eyes are wide, the pupils dilated, frantically flicking to each of their faces. She must be new. This is her first, he’d bet his life on it. 

And he might have to. 

The sound of the chime, and then the phones vibrate, and the woman’s voice rings out overhead once more. 

“Purpose of the Game: Find out which switch drains the pool. Time: 35 minutes.” 

As soon as the woman’s voice echoes with her last words, water begins to flood into the bottom of the pool, quickly covering Yoongi’s sneakers with ice cold waves. 

He glances up, the timer on the phone already counting down, and guarantees the laser field-the one that keeps them from leaving a game-has caged over the top of the pool, keeping them all trapped like fish in a bucket. 

So either they figure out the right switch in time-or they pick one of two ways to die-drowning, or being torn apart by the lasers. 

“What do we do??” The woman-the one from before, screeches, clinging to the sides of the pool with her fingernails dug into the tile, feet already ankle deep in water. “I don’t wanna die!” 

Yoongi wants to tell her to shut up, that she’s not helping them in the slightest, but before he can open his mouth, you have spoken up, stepping in front of the man you accompany-as if to shield him-who looks pale and more haggard than Yoongi remembers. 

“Be quiet.” Your eyes flash dangerously in the direction of the woman, and Yoongi admires the strength in your voice, as you point down at the ever deepening water, now up to your knees. “You’re not helping anything. This is a game of wits. We have to figure this out together.” You take in a deep breath, and there is the hint of a quaver in your voice now, the only crack in your flawless appearance. “Now. Let’s think about this. Because I don’t want to die either.” 

The tall man, the one with the glasses hiding dark, unreadable eyes, steps forward, and Yoongi notes, with a brief scoff to himself, that he is wearing tattered suit pants, and what used to be a white button down shirt. 

Stuffed suit, Yoongi thinks to himself bitterly, because he knows from experience that the man and his type are not normally helpful in games. 

“It’s a puzzle.” The man speaks, and his voice is low, lower than Yoongi had expected. He glances at the five switches on the side of the pool, dangerously close to being engulfed in water. “They’re color coded, see?” 

“No shit, Sherlock.” Taehyung calls out from beside Yoongi, and the older man can practically feel the younger rolling his eyes. “We might be stupid but we’re not blind.” 

You step forward, up beside the taller man, and Yoongi notes-with only slight amusement-that though the water is only up to the tall man’s thighs, it is now up to your waist. 

“So how do we know which color it is?” You ask, glancing down at the five switches, not sparing a glance in the man’s direction. “Because I can guarantee, if we pick the wrong one, it’s going to make this pool fill up faster.” 

The man hums under his breath, and nods at your words, cocking his head slightly, honeyed color hair falling over his brow and into the view of his glasses. “I don’t think it’s so much about picking the right switch, but putting them in the right order.” 

Yoongi steps up beside the two of you, and he ignores the sudden surprise in your eyes as you recognize him. “So what is the right order?” He grunts out, studying the switches, as the icy water starts to tendril around his midsection. 

“Hurry up!” The panicked woman screams from the corner, face bare in an expression of absolute fear. 

Yoongi notes-oddly, briefly-that the man who had been such an asset to you in the first game, has yet to move from his spot in the corner. 

The tall man beside the two of you ignores the woman’s pleas, and Yoongi swears he can see the cogs turning in his head. “We need a color sequence. Something that includes red, blue, yellow, green, and orange.” 

“Listen, I don’t wanna be a pain in the ass-” You speak once more, and your voice is sharp, as you hold your arms up out of the rising water, soon to engulf your chest. “But I’m with that lady. Can we hurry it up?” 

The tall man doesn’t seem to hear you, and if he does, he doesn’t acknowledge you. He steps forward to brush his fingers across the switches, the water lapping at them hungrily. “What makes sense? What’s important enough that they would use it for a pattern?” 

Yoongi is standing on his tiptoes in the water now, desperate to keep his upper body dry for as long as possible, and he notices, glancing over at you, that you are starting to look a little panicked as the water laps across your shoulders.

A chime from the phones. “10 minutes remain.”  

“Just start flipping them already!” Taehyung barks out from somewhere behind Yoongi, his voice rough with agitation. 

“No!” You shout back, flashing him a stern look. “Let him think. If we flip them, and they’re wrong, we’re gonna drown a whole lot faster.” 

The switches on the wall are now beneath the surface of the water, and Yoongi feels the icy liquid lick at the back of his neck. He’s pretty sure you’re treading water at this point, and the grate of deadly lasers above your head is getting closer and closer as the distance between you shrinks. 

“C’mon, man,” Yoongi growls out at the tall man, who seems unperturbed by the water climbing his chest. “Make a decision.” 

The man is immobile for another moment-which feels like years-and then he snaps his fingers, the sound wet and watery as his hand emerges from the water. “I’ve got it. Hold on” 

And then, he disappears beneath the water. 

Everyone holds their breath, and Yoongi swears the electric fear in the air-combined with the sparks from the lasers, now only inches above your heads, tangling with the water-is so thick that he’s going to drown in it. 

And then, the man’s head appears-hair slicked smooth to his skin with water-and he is gasping for air, as he says triumphantly, “Got it!” 

“Why isn’t the water stopping?” You gasp out, trying to keep your head above water, yet not far enough to risk the laser field. 

“If you got it, then why are we still drowning, man?” Taehyung appears beside Yoongi, long arms stroking the water to keep him afloat, and his voice is harsh. 

“Give it a second-” The tall man starts to say. 

“Give it a second??” The woman screeches, head ducking beneath the water, before she comes up, coughing once more. “We don’t have a second! We’re gonna die-” 

Suddenly, over the sound of the buzzing lasers, and the woman’s screaming, the sound of water draining. 

“Game cleared. Congratulations.” 

“Holy shit.” You breathe out, relief clear in your voice, from beside Yoongi, as the water begins to suck away slowly, back down the length of your bodies, the way it came. 

When your feet are back on the floor of the pool, and the last of the water is puddling around the drain, all six of you sit, completely soaked, completely drained, but alive. 

You’re all alive. 

“How did you know? What was it?” You ask from your spot on the floor, chest still heaving, trying to catch your breath. 

The tall man shrugs slightly, looking up from ringing out the material of his shirt. “It was the color and order of playing cards.” 

“What the hell?” Taehyung groans, from his position on the floor, eyes closed, back flat against the slick, wet concrete. He raises his head-only a little-to glare at the man. “What are you talking about? None of those colors are in the card deck.” 

“No, but-” The man adjusts his glasses, and offers all of you the hint of a smile, and Yoongi is surprised to see dimples dot his cheeks. “Poker players say the suites have color auras. A color they give off. Also a positive or negative numerate. And there’s a certain order-from highest to lowest. So.”

 The man sketches something into the water on the floor, as if to show you what he’s talking about. “Hearts is highest. It’s color is Yellow. That switch needed to be up. Positive.” The man glances up at all of you, and when you are silent, he continues. “Spades is next. It’s color is Orange. Also positive. So up again. And then it was Diamonds-Red and Negative. Down switch. And then Clubs-Blue and Negative. Down again. And last but not least,” The man swipes away some remaining drops of water on his forehead, and manages a full smile now. “Jokers-Green and positive. Up.” 

“Holy shit.” Yoongi hears you murmur, for the second time since the game started, and you sit back on your hands and look up at the ceiling. “Good thing you were here. Or we all woulda been dead.” 

******

It is several days later, sitting around a small fire and eating canned beans, that all of you are forced to remember what the game has taken from you. 

Yoongi sits down beside you with a grunt, elbows laid lazily across his knees as he stares into the flickering fire, mint hair reflecting the orange color in an odd way. 

You glance sideways at him, the way he seems paler than when you first met him, more tired. “Are Taehyung and Jungkook still sleeping?” 

“Yeah.” Yoongi shifts slightly, reaching for another tin of canned food. “I’m glad those two have each other.” 

“Me too.” You concede, thankful that when you had met Taehyung, he had instantly latched onto Jungkook, who was struggling so much, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he had just laid down in the next game and willingly died. 

That’s what losing people did to you. 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you-” Yoongi slurps up a spoonful of beans, and finally glances at you, cocking his brow in your direction. ���What happened to that other kid you were with? The dark haired, little one?” 

You wince, and his words tear open the barely healing gash that crosses your heart, and you can almost taste the bitter umami of blood in your mouth, as you struggle to find your words. 

Jimin. 

Bright eyed, always positive, always smiling, always loving, Jimin

Jimin who had gotten you through the first few days in this new world-along with Jungkook-without even trying. 

Jimin-Jungkook’s best friend-and someone you had just been growing to see more clearly. Someone who was so lovely, you couldn’t imagine a world without him.

Jimin. 

Who was now dead. 

*****

Yoongi regrets asking you as soon as he sees the look in your eyes. 

Because that look-that look is all too familiar. 

It’s the very same look he had worn for weeks-tormented, over and over-by the death of someone he cared about deeply. 

It’s the same look of pain, and devastation, and loss, and absolute agony, that had haunted his own features for so long. 

So long after he lost Hoseok, that he began to feel as if he’d rather just die, than continue to survive. 

Hoseok. 

Hoseok with the sunshine spilling from gaps between his teeth when he smiled, a smile that made everything somehow lighter and brighter and less desperate. 

Hoseok-the extrovert who had adopted Yoongi’s introverted soul-even though they hadn’t know each other for very long before the games started. 

Hoseok, always bright, always loud, always a safe space. 

Hoseok. 

Who was now dead. 

*******

Yoongi grunts again from beside you, and his arm comes up to brush against yours, as he shifts to throw his empty tin can into the flames of the fire. “It’s fine. You don’t have to tell me. Forget I asked.” 

“But I don’t want to forget him.” You manage to choke out on a whisper, and you can feel tears threatening behind the lids of your eyes, as you take in a shuddering breath through your nose. 

You press the heels of your hands hard into your closed eyes, feeling the first few hot tears begin to drip down the dirty, chapped skin of your cheeks, and then the feel of something else-warm and comforting-on your arm forces you to look over at the man beside you. 

There is an odd look on his face, so close to sympathy, that you feel your breath catch in your throat. 

“We don’t have to forget them. Not ever.” Something hardens in Yoongi’s eyes, dark beneath the mint fringe of his bangs. “And that’s why we’re gonna survive and beat this shitty game. So they’ll never be forgotten. Ever.” 

*****

When your visas run out, you find yourself standing in the all too familiar feel of the game, yet in an all together unfamiliar arena. 

“What the hell.” Taehyung mumbles from beside you, and you glance over at him, his arm slung protectively around Jungkook’s shoulders. The younger boy-you note happily-has gained some color and life back into his face since Taehyung joined you. “Do they want us to go back to school? Is this some stupid shit like ‘pass the fraction test’ or ‘play hopscotch’?” 

“You’d obviously fail then.” Jungkook jokes, nudging the other man in the side, as Taehyung protests and puts him in a headlock. 

It is nice, for just a moment, to enjoy the lightness that the two of them bring, and then, the chime of the phones in your hands brings you all back to the very dark, and not at all light, present. 

You glance down at the lit up screen and swallow hard, heart pounding in your chest, as the first words flash across the phone, and the now familiar voice sounds from over your heads. 

“King of Hearts. Players: 6.” 

“Hearts.” The man from beside you-you think his name is Jin-mutters sourly under his breath, his glare focused on the phone held in his large palm. “Dammit to hell.” 

“It’s a mind game.” Namjoon speaks up from Jin’s other side, glancing over at his broad shouldered friend, before he sweeps his gaze over the four of you. “These ones aren’t pretty.” 

“And it’s a damn face card.” Yoongi grunts, his dark eyes barely visible beneath the lip of the dirty ball cap he wears, although his lips are pulled into a thin, serious line. “I’m gonna wager now that not more than half of us make it out.” 

His words send a cold shiver down your spine, and a heavy leaden brick into the pit of your already churning stomach. 

The voice blares over the speakers-bouncing off the lockers in the empty hallways-as if the principle is calling someone down to the office. 

Although suspension is not on the line this time-your lives are. 

“Start in Classroom 1A. Progress through the classrooms. Someone will need to drink one of the glasses in each room. If you choose right, you all proceed, if you choose wrong, you will be trapped as poisonous gasses fill the room. Time: 1.5 Hours.” 

“Great.” Taehyung says dryly, shooting all of you an exasperated look. “Fantastic. Just what I was hoping to do today.” 

You glance down at the phone in your hand, and see the clock has started ticking. And then-

You squint at the screen, and see 4 numbers scan across the screen in quick, green format. 

7B. 2. 5. 3. 

You glance up at your companions, trying to gauge from their facial expressions if anyone else saw the numbers, but they are all already discussing your plan of action, headed toward the open classroom door of room number one. 

Tucking the phone back into your pocket, you follow them silently. 

There is a small table in the middle of the empty classroom, two glasses sitting at its center, and Namjoon is already carefully looking at the contents, eyes focused intently behind the cracked lenses of his glasses. 

“What now?” Yoongi asks gruffly, leaning against one of the abandoned desks. 

“How do we know which one to pick?” Jin queries, and though you don’t know him well, you can tell by his minute facial expressions that he is worried. “And how do we pick who drinks it?” 

“I don’t know.” Namjoon says distractedly, still looking at the contents of the two, clear glasses, dripping with condensation. 

You hang back, near the door, beside Taehyung and Jungkook, still thinking about the mysterious numbers. 

You glance around the room-at the tight, pinched faces of your companions-and elbow Jungkook gently in the ribs. 

“Yo, lovebirds.” 

Both boys turn to look at you, eyebrows raised, quizzical looks on their faces, and you offer them the hint of a slightly strained smile. 

“I’m gonna make sure the two of you get out of this together. No matter what.” You wave a finger between the two of them, still joined by linked fingers. “Seriously. Even though you disgust me, I don’t know what I’d do around camp without your gross public displays of affection to retch over. I’d be bored to death.” 

“That’s so sweet.” Taehyung quips, sticking his tongue out at you, and Jungkook grins, the first time you have actually seen him smile in quite some time. 

“Hey.” Yoongi’s sharp voice interrupts your teasing, and the three of you turn to glance over at the older man, a serious, dark look on his face, as his eyes glare into you. “Stop bullshitting and help us figure this out already. You wanna live don’t you?” 

You sigh, and shooting one last amused look in the direction of Taehyung and Jungkook, you all step up beside the other three members of your party, deep in discussion about which glass you should drink, and who should drink it. 

Suddenly, the phone in your pocket vibrates. 

Pulling it out while the others are distracted, you glance down at the lit screen to see a number blinking in the corner. 

72. 

Your brow furrows in concentration, and you glance discreetly at the guys surrounding you. No one has acted like they’ve received anything out of the ordinary. 

So what does it mean? 

Eyes scanning the room, your gaze lands on the number table poster stuck to the wall behind the desk at the front. 

Leaving the group, you approach, and let your gaze sweep methodically over the numbers until-

Aha. 

Beneath the number 72, scratched in red pen, is a single letter. 

You glance up at the alphabet tape that runs around the classroom, and let your eyes follow it until you find the letter you’re looking for. 

And beneath the letter, in the same red pen, so small you would never have noticed it, is the word ‘right.’

You feel your heart leap in your chest. 

“I know which it is!” You exclaim excitedly, without thinking, darting back over to the table, as five pairs of eyes look at you in silent astonishment. You catch your breath, glancing down at the two cups, still sitting untouched, in the middle of the table. “I know which it is.” You repeat, mind whirring. 

“How?” Namjoon asks in confusion, his brow furrowing over the rim of his glasses. 

“I just do.” You say, and when they look back at you suspiciously, you realize something. They’re your allies-yes-maybe some of them are even your friends-but they have no reason to trust you on word alone. And you’re not sure you’re supposed to reveal the hints you’ve been getting on your phone. So instead, you say, “I’ll drink it. I’ll prove it.” 

“(Y/N) wait-” Taehyung starts to say, hand outstretched, but you have already raised the cup to your lips and downed the contents. 

There is tense silence, as if they’re all waiting for you to drop dead, and then-

“Room cleared. Congratulations.” 

There is a collective sigh of relief as you move through the now open doorway into the next classroom. 

This time, there are three cups on the counter, and you get no clues to help you out. 

And then, Jungkook suddenly exclaims, his voice loud with excitement, “Wait, I know which one!” 

You look over at him, and see him tucking his phone discreetly back into the pocket of his jeans. 

And you know. 

Suddenly, you know the point of this game. 

Jungkook doesn’t wait for anyone to protest, stepping up to the table and curling his fingers around the middle cup without so much as a pause. He gulps down the contents, and the chime sounds once more. 

“Room cleared. Congratulations.” 

As everyone heads across the hall to the next room, you slow your steps, falling back beside Jungkook, who has taken up the rear, and when you are sure everyone is out of earshot, you whisper to him, “Jungkook, how did you know which cup to pick last time?” 

He glances over at you, large brown doe eyes wide, and then he swallows hard, you see his adam’s apple bob silently, before he murmurs back, “I don’t know if I should tell you.” 

“You got a clue on your phone, didn’t you?” You hiss back, glancing up at the boys in front of you, hopeful no one has noticed you talking. 

Jungkook’s eyes go even wider if possible. “How did you-” 

“Because it happened to me in the first room.” You pull him aside, behind a row of lockers, stopping for a moment as you clasp the lapels of his jacket so that you can pull him close to face you, your words coming rushing now beneath your breath. “Listen to me, Jungkook. This is a hearts game. They want us to betray one another.” You glance around the lockers to see the other boys have disappeared into the next room. You have to hurry. “Whatever you do, don’t tell anyone about the hints. But we have to follow them to the letter. Got it?” 

Jungkook stares at you, mouth slightly agape, and then he swallows again, before nodding. “Okay. Yeah. Got it.” 

You release your hold on him, and with one last nod in his direction, follow him into the next room. 

It goes like that for what seems like hours-each room getting harder, with more glasses to pick from on the table-and by the time you all reach the final room, you are exhausted. 

You can see the weariness taking its toll on the men around you-the adrenaline had long worn off now-in the way they hold themselves, shoulders slumped, eyes starting to grow hollow. 

The game likes to toy with people. 

And all of you are holding your breath because it’s been too easy this far. 

Jungkook-you note through your turmoil of thoughts-looks even more haggard than the rest of the men, and you understand exactly how he’s feeling, the weight of your phone heavy in your pocket, laden down with the secret numbers and clues. 

“10 minutes remaining.” 

“Okay.” Namjoon steeples his fingers, crossing the room to look at the long table, which now holds six cups down its length. He crouches down to observe every aspect of the cups, as if looking for clues. “There’s six cups. One for each of us.” He glances up at the rest of you, a look of weary resignation on his face. “And I think it’s pretty clear. We’re not all gonna get out of here. This is just another puzzle. So.” He stands, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “How do we go about picking who drinks what?” 

“Random?” Taehyung suggests with a slight shrug and a glance in his boyfriend’s direction. 

“We can draw lots.” Yoongi hems out the idea, his own hands deep in the pockets of the tattered coat he wears. You can see the look of exhaustion heavy on his normally unreadable features. 

“Whatever. This is ridiculous.” Jin interrupts, stepping abruptly toward the table, as his fingers close around the base of a glass. “Let’s just get this over with. Luck of the draw, ladies and gentlemen.” 

As you watch Jin raising his chosen glass to his lips, something sparks to the front of your mind. 

7B. 2. 5. 3. 

That’s it. 

They had given you the answer from the beginning. Those bastards had wanted all of you to make it to this room from the very start, 

This is where the real game happened. 

Without thinking, your feet are moving forward, and your arm is outstretched for the cup in Jin’s hand. As if in slow motion, you see your fingers close around the stem of the glass, just as the cold steel touches Jin’s lips. 

“No, stop, wait!” You grab the glass away, just as you realize that Jungkook is at your side, fingers outstretched to do the very same thing. 

Jin glances between the two of you, his mouth slightly open. 

You meet Jungkook’s doe eyed gaze, and something resolute comes across his features, before he gives you the slightest of nods, glass still held in your hand, deadening your now cold fingers. 

You know what he’s trying to say. 

You glance down at the five remaining glasses on the table, each sitting beside a place card with a number. 

It’s so obvious now. 

You should have seen it all along. 

“What’s going on, (Y/N)?” Yoongi asks suspiciously, taking a step toward you, and you can see the distrust now gleaming in his eyes. “Jungkook?” He glances at the younger man, features softening slightly. 

You know without a certainty of a doubt, that if you say anything about knowing which cups are poison and which cups are safe, the game makers will kill you. A quick laser to the head, and your companions will be left clueless, and you’ll be dead. 

You meet Jungkook’s gaze, and you see the same fear reflected in his dark eyes that must be emanating from yours, as if he has come to the same terrifying revelation. 

The two of you have to choose who drinks which cup. 

The two of you have to choose who lives, and who dies. 

Jungkook. And you. 

Without thought, you find yourself reaching for cup number two, which you know is one of the poisoned ones, at the same time Jungkook reaches out for cup number three. 

Your eyes meet once more, and you lose your breath at the saddened look of acceptance that has now washed across Jungkook’s handsome features. 

You feel your fingers grip the cold steel of the cup, and they tremble, and you’re worried you’ll spill the liquid inside. 

“Five minutes remaining.” 

“(Y/N.)” Jungkook cautions quietly, glancing down at the timer held in his free hand, and you know, you have to choose, because if you don’t, you’ll all die, and this game-this shitty game-will win. 

And that can’t happen. 

Because someone has to survive, someone has to remember the people you’ve lost-remember you. 

“(Y/N).” Yoongi repeats your name again, all eyes on the two of you, his voice a low growl of warning, fingers curled into fists at his sides. 

But no one makes a move to stop you as you reach for the first cup. 

Cup number one. Safe. 

Jungkook’s eyes meet your own-pupils blown wide-and an unspoken understanding passes between the two of you. 

You hand Taehyung the first cup. 

His dark eyes widen as his fingers close around the cool metal, and his lips part as he glances up at you. “Should I-” 

“Wait.” Jungkook says softly, stepping up beside him and squeezing his fingers briefly between his own, before he offers him a grim smile, and moves toward the table. 

You watch as he picks up another cup. 

Cup number four. Safe. 

This time, you barely have to spare a glance between each other, as Jungkook hands the cup silently to Yoongi, pressing it into the older man’s hands and folding his finger around it, as Yoongi stares at him, blank eyed. 

“Jungkook-” Yoongi opens his mouth as the younger man’s name slips from between his lips, their fingers still touching at the base of the cup. 

You can tell he wants to ask more questions, but Jungkook simply pulls his hand from within his own and returns to stand beside you, grim faced. 

Shit. It’s decision time.

You hesitate, hand hovering over the third cup of poison, and swallow hard, suddenly feeling as if you’re going to throw up. 

People were never meant to play God, and here you are, deciding, in this moment, who is going to die alongside you and Jungkook

Pushing down those thoughts, your pick up the fifth cup, just as the phones chime once more with another time update. 

“Two minutes remaining.” 

“Dammit.” You swear beneath your breath, and glance over to Namjoon and Jin, who are watching you with serious expressions. 

The last two without cups. 

“Just pick someone who can win and get out of this hellhole.” Jungkook’s voice is low in your ear, low enough that no one else can hear him, yet loud enough that you can hear the obvious pain in his tone. 

You look back at him and he nods, reaching for the last cup. 

You step forward, and hand the cup to Jin. 

Cup number five. Poison. 

Jungkook, appearing again at your side, hands the sixth and final cup to Namjoon, who watches him with unreadable eyes shining behind his dirtied glasses. 

Cup number six. Safe. 

“One minute remaining.” 

The voice echoes in your head like you’re underwater, and you step back to stand beside the table, fingers starting once more to tremble violently along the rim of the cup you’re about to drink. 

The cup that’s about to kill you. 

“So-” Namjoon addresses you all, his low voice firm. “All together or-” 

You reach for Yoongi’s hand-standing beside you against the wall-and he flashes you a look of surprise, but you don’t return the glance. 

Jungkook wraps his arm tightly around Taehyung’s waist and buries his face in the older man’s neck, just for a moment, and you can see the way his body is shaking.

It’s time. 

“All together.” You state with a firm nod. 

And then, all six of you raise the glasses to your lips, and down the contents. 

There is silence-a long pause that feels like eons of time-and then Taehyung speaks up, a grin breaking across his handsome features. 

“Hey! We’re all okay right? We’re fine?” His voice is full of unspoken relief, and his arm around Jungkook tightens noticeable. 

Just as the younger man collapses to the ground. 

“Kook?” Taehyung’s face, moments before full of relief, is now twisted in something akin to disbelief and agony, as he tries to hold up Jungkook’s weight, as they both crash to the floor. “Jungkook!” 

You feel it then. The weakness in your knees, the black spots dancing before your vision, and you’re not entirely sure if you’re still holding Yoongi’s hand, but you hear the sound of the cup clattering to the floor as you follow Jungkook down. 

“(Y/N)!” It is Yoongi’s voice, far away and watery, as if you’re beneath the surface of a lake and trying to listen to him. Your vision is flickering in and out of focus, and you can barely see his face as he leans over you. “Dammit, (Y/N)!” 

There is the sound of another body hitting the floor, and you vaguely recognize a man’s voice-Namjoon?-calling out Jin’s name, and you assume he’s gone down too. 

It’s a fast acting poison, you’ll give those bastards that much. 

Your heart feels too fast for your chest, and your breaths seem stuck in your throat, not reaching your lungs, you feel like you’re suffocating. But you have to tell him. You have to. 

You reach up-almost blindly-and your fingers collide with the fabric of Yoongi’s shirt as you tug weakly at him. “Yoongi.” 

“(Y/N), what in the hell-” Yoongi starts to say, and you can barely see his face anymore. You have to hurry. 

“Yoongi.” You tug at him again, and he shuts up just for a second, but long enough for you to choke out the words you need him to hear. “Stay alive and win so no one forgets them.” 

A sudden wave of agony wracks your body, halting your words. 

You manage to roll to your side as you begin coughing, and the taste of blood is sharp in your mouth, dark and crimson against the floor beneath your face. The warm liquid is trickling from your nose and across your chin, and you have a funny thought as your vision continues to fade-

The jacket you always wear. The jacket Jimin had lent you when you first met him. 

He’d kill you for getting blood on it. 

“(Y/N)! Stay with me, dammit!” 

“Kookie, please! Please don’t go!” 

“Jin! Hyung! Jin!” 

The voices are loud and muted in your head, all at the same time, and the pain in your body is too much. 

It’s time. 

Let go. 

And just as you give into the inner voice, and your eyes flutter shut, the last thing you hear before you let the blackness swallow you for good, is the chiming of the phones. 

“Game Cleared. Congratulations.” 

#bts #bangtan #bangtan boys #bangtan seonyandan #bulletproof boy scouts #beyond the scene #bts drabble #ot7 #bts x you #bts x reader #alice in borderland au #alice in borderland #bts in borderland #alice in borderland x bts #angst #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fiction #bts fanfiction #magicshopnet #purplearmynet #bts angst #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bangtanarmynet

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Their Doll 17

He loves you

B.Barnes x Stark!Reader, S.Rogers x Stark!Reader

series synopsis:  y/n Stark, all records of her non existent, and yet Hydra still find her. When she is kidnapped by a certain super-soldier and no one believes her, she finds herself searching for unexpected familiarity in her not-so-distant past.

Series Warnings: smut, violence, torture, swearing

Chapter Summary: you and Bucky stay in bed for a while. Y/n meets Sam

Warnings: fluff, kissing, implied smut, there’s probably some swearing somewhere

A/n: The timeline in this has been altered, as there I things I wanted to include but I also wanted this fic to follow the storyline/timeline of Winter Soldier and Civil war.So for purposes of this fanfic, Peter Parker was discovered by Tony at a much younger age - when he was bitten - and has been an intern with him since, almost like a protégée.(For the purposes of this story Peter was bitten much younger too - more like when he was 9 or ten rather than 14/15)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Layers of pale sunlight streaked through the thin, flimsy white curtains, forming a rich sheen of dull yellow light across the room. The encroaching stream of gold cast over y/n's face blinked her awake, her heavy eyelids fluttering and her mouth opening in a sinfully beautiful yawn. Or at least Bucky thought so, but he thought everything about y/n was beautiful.

Bucky had been laying there for a near hour now, blue eyes gazing over his girl's features as she looked blissfully peaceful immersed in a deep sleep. Last night's events must've really fired her out. Y/n's small hand was splayed against his bare chest, chin tucked into the crook of his neck and body embraced by his warm, flesh arm. His fingers danced in small swirls against her back, drawing small figurines ever-so-lightly against she sunlit-skin.

A soft smile had found his lips, tugging them upwards into almost a grin at the sight of y/n in his arms. Her leg was still thrown over his waist haphazardly, his shirt ridden up to around her ribs, panties doing little to conceal what the shirt had revealed.

Y/n's head lifted slowly, his soft smile contagious in the way it curled upon her lips, too.

"Morning, soldier." She mumbled, raspy and broken with a mixture of the strain and sleep. He pulled the girl into him further, his small smile growing when he felt her nuzzle into his warmth. Her disjointed voice was cute, Bucky thought, a reminder to him that he wasn't the only one still struggling to fit in.

He'd spent nearly five months in Bruce's lab, on ice once again as the man and Tony both tried to figure out how to rid him of his winter soldier side. They'd recovered him the first mission they'd gone on, the one without Steve. And not even Steve new Bucky was back until a week ago, although the soldier was only released from the lab yesterday.

Bruce had offered to take Bucky to the party with him, but the super soldier had politely - albeit quickly - declined his offer, knowing almost off instinct that the party scene wasn't one for him. Instead, he'd asked for directions to y/n's room, where he had waited for probably close to an hour before y/n had come storming in.

"You sound like you've been gargling glass." Bucky teased, unable to keep a deadpan expression as the words formed on his lips. Y/n's mouth opened in shock, and she used one arm to prop herself up whilst smacking Bucky's chest with the other. He chuckled, grabbing the hand she'd used to hit him before lifting it to his lips. Bucky kissed each of her fingertips in-turn, before bringing it to cup his face and holding her warmth against his skin. He turned his mouth towards her palm, plump lips fluttering against it as y/n looked in with pure...adoration in her eyes.

"I love you." The words tumbled from her lips like a simple thank you before she could think it through, Bucky's lips stilled against the palm of her hand, his eyes searching hers as if he was trying to find a hint as to why she just said that. It took her a moment to realise that he could be confused, after all, she blurted the words rather quickly and even she wasn't sure that she would've heard them had they come from someone else's mouth. "I love you." She said slower, as if she was hand picking each word before she said it. "I'm totally and completely in love with you." She murmured, eyes captured by the awe struck across Bucky's face.

"W-why?" He finally mustered the courage to say, dropping her hand back to his chest. Y/n took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she did so as if to prepare herself for what she was about to say.

"Because, you were my calm after the storm. Everything bad that seemed to happen, you were there to pick up the pieces after." She explained, moving the hand that'd been dropped to his chest to rest over Bucky's heart. It was racing.

"But all I did was...look at you. Sometimes I was the problem." Bucky argued, almost with himself. It was like he didn't believe what y/n he said, like he thought she was trickling him.

"But your eyes...they quelled the anger, the frustration, the hurt and the pain," y/n continued on, "it's like the real you - not the winter soldier - was always waiting, like you were simply hiding in the sidelines." She confessed, a slither of a tear making its way across her waterline. She opened her mouth to say more, but she found her lips already pressed against his.

Bucky rolled them over, his frame hovering above y/n's as he covered her face in small, affectionate kisses.

"I love you too." He whispered against her ear, giving the lobe a playful nip that made y/n squeal and giggle, a sound that had Bucky grinning boyishly and tickling her sides with his slender fingers, relishing in the cute sound she made.

"Please!" She gasped, face red and tears of laughter streaking her face, "please, h-have mercy!" She pleaded with him.

"Only if you say it again." Bucky smirked, straddling her hips and tickling his fingers against her sides.

"Say what?" Y/n breathed, her small form writhing beneath his as he kept up him ministrations.

"You know exactly what." Bucky mumbled as he leant over y/n, beginning to kiss and suck her neck too.

"I love you." She said softly, voice not as crackly now that she'd spoken a little bit more. Bucky's fingers halted for a moment, his nose brushing against hers and their breaths mingled as his stared deeply into her eyes.

"I know." He whispered, pecking the tip of her nose before beginning to tickle the poor girl again, a wolfish grin playing against his lips.

"You promised!" Y/n gasped, trying desperately to get out his grip.

"Oops." Bucky mumbled against her lips, connecting them once again.

...

We had stayed in bed most of the morning, desperate to avoid Steve and my dad for as long as we possibly could. But at noon Bucky ushered me out of bed, claiming he was to meet with a friend and that it was bad for us to spend all day in bed.

I had sighed, getting out of bed with a huff before he was pulling me into his lap, back against his chest and his lips kissing my neck softly. His warm skin against mine made me relax, his hand on my cheek tilting my head back to meet his in a sweet kiss all the convincing I needed.

Sweaty, hot, and flustered, I panted as I climbed the stairs to the floor my apartment was on in the tower. I swiped my forehead, grimacing at the sticky feel of my sweat covering the back of my hand.

To blow off some steam and the manifesting stress of yesterday, I'd decided to go on a short run. That had turned into five bloody miles. So naturally, I was a knackered, panting mess with hair clinging to my face and sweat forming dark patches under my armpits.

I conquered the last flight of stairs - too stubborn to take the elevator as I was more likely to bump into Steve or Tony that way - and dragged my feet the whole way to my room.

I pushed the door open, a hundred-percent ready to flop onto either my bed or my sofa and die. But when I walked in, I was greeted by the sight of Bucky and some guy I'd never met sat at the small breakfast bar in the kitchen of my apartment, two coffee mugs resting in front of them.

The sound of the door opening had caught both mens' attention, both facing me. I offered a weak smile, shoulder slumped with her tiredness. I was mentally cursing, embarrassed that Bucky's friend was seeing me like this the first time we's met.

"Hey, doll." Bucky smiled, clearing his throat when I looked at him questioningly. "This is Sam. I hope you're okay with us using your room." Bucky said sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck and giving me an apologetic smile, "Steve was meant to show me to mine last night. Obviously that's not going to happen now." He said, met with a chuckle from Sam.

"You must be y/n. It's great to finally meet you." Sam smiled kindly, his face soft and he seemed to not be affected by my state, or if he was he didn't show it. I smiled back, slightly wider this time.

"Yeah. It's nice to meet you to, although Bucky's never mentioned you before." I commented, trying to keep my tone civil, the ache in me to just collapse to the floor growing. He chuckled, so did Bucky.

"I, uh, I met him a while back. Six months ago maybe? Of course, he was trying to kill me at the time." Sam said comically, slapping a hand onto Bucky's shoulder a Bucky looked down at his drink, pearly whites shown as he laughed.

"Oh." Was all I said, instantly connecting the dots. That's when I was with HYDRA, I realised. The second time. Sam stood slowly, grabbing his jacket from the back of the barstool before turning to me.

"Well, it was wonderful meeting you."

"You too." I smiled.

"And thank you for the coffee." He finished, directing it at Bucky this time. The soldier smiled and waved at Sam as he left, standing from his own seat to deposit the used mugs in the little sink. Sam's exit was announced bu the thud of the door as it swung shut.

"At least give a girl some warning, next time." I instantly chided, shoulder slumping at Bucky sauntered over to me. He was amusedly smiling, teeth on show as her hooked arm arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his chest.

"Sorry." He mumbled, placing a chaste kiss into my hair. "Now go have a shower, you need it." He said, pushing me away and turning me towards the bathroom.

"Hey!" I complained, yelping as I felt his hand connect with my ass as I began to walk away.

#smut #image #images #marvel #marvel smut #steve rogers #bucky x steve #steve rogers image #steve rogers x reader #steve x bucky #steve roger fanfic #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfic #winter soldier smut #winter soldier #winter solider fanfiction #captain america smut #captain america fanfiction #captain america #chris evans #chris evans smut #seb stan #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan #marvel fanfic #avengers smut

[let-it-raines]

There is something inexplicable about thunderstorms that calm him.

Maybe it is the sound of heavy raindrops hitting against the metal roof on the house or against the window panes. Maybe it is the flashes of lightning that brighten the darkened sky or the rolls of thunder that echo and create a natural symphony that is felt down in his very soul. When nestled at home and when the storm isn’t frighteningly bad, he enjoys sitting in his bedroom with the curtains pulled back and the blinds raised, simply watching and enjoying how still everything else seems while nature erupts in anger and sadness and all of the emotions in between.

Beyond that, the rain is often perfect napping weather, and really, what more can a man ask for than a Saturday afternoon storm that will ease him into a much-needed sleep?

The kitchen light above him flickers ever so slightly, and Killian stands from his stool where he was reading a novel to walk to the other side of the granite countertop to turn on the coffee maker. He can feel sleep dragging at the corner of his eyes, and while he would like the nap he was just thinking of, coffee is calling his name more right now. As it percolates, he thumbs through his phone, checking his emails. It’s a bloody Saturday. Why the hell is he being forwarded emails for a client that is not his? William has got to stop doing this. His clients are not Killian’s, and Killian doesn’t work on weekends unless absolutely necessary.

“If you pinch those brows any tighter, you’re going to get wrinkles, Jones.”

“You say that like I don’t already have wrinkles, love.”

Emma shrugs and walks further into the kitchen, moving around him to open the fridge. She’s in a pair of her small, black running shorts and a t-shirt he believes they got from a concert they went to on their first anniversary. It’s faded and stretched out, and it could not be more well-loved. Her own brows pinch as she looks inside the fridge, but he dares not make a quip about her getting wrinkles. “Do we not have cheese?”

“If you didn’t buy it, we don’t have it.”

“Well, damn.” She slams the door closed, and he sees that even without the cheese she was looking for, she’s come out with a yogurt. “I swear I put it on the shopping list. Did you not see that?”

“It’s was your week to do the grocery run.”

“It was not.”

“It most definitely was.”

Emma groans and rips open the yogurt before grabbing a spoon out of the drawer to eat it with. “I may be remembering something about it being my week, but I’ve obviously screwed the pooch on that. I’ll go tomorrow…wait, tomorrow is Sunday, which means it’s your week so – ”

The coffee maker beeps behind him, and he turns to pour himself some into a mug. “We could always try something revolutionary like going together.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, don’t be getting all crazy like that.”

“I’ll try to hold it in. You want a cup?”

“That’s like asking if I want my lungs to still be able to get air. Of course I want some.”

Killian nods and grabs another mug out of the cabinet for Emma’s coffee. He walks toward the fridge for her creamer, pouring it in until the coffee is nearly white itself, and then he hands it to her as she sits on the edge of the counter. She nods her head in thanks, and all he can really think about is how her coffee is not going to mix well with her yogurt.

Emma has never cared about things like that, though.

“Remind me that I need to get tampons when we go to the store tomorrow.”

“Why do you always say for me to remind you instead of putting a reminder on your phone?”

“Because you’re more efficient than a reminder on my phone.”

Another roll of thunder cracks outside, the house shaking the slightest bit, and Killian decides to take his cup and walk into the living room, settling down on the couch with the curtains open so he can watch the storm while Netflix plays on the television. He’s got absolutely no clue what it’s on. Emma must have started some new show, and he’s sure he will somehow get sucked into it the more she watches it. That’s what always happens, even if he misses a few episodes and Emma has to give him a verbal run-through because she can’t be arsed to go back to the episodes he hasn’t seen.

Emma follows him into the living room, her coffee cup in hand, and she settles down on the other side of the couch, pulling the soft knit blanket from the corner to wrap it around herself as she watches the TV.

The afternoon passes slowly, neither of them bothering to do much of anything. At one point, Liam calls, and Killian chats with him for awhile, Emma adding in her own few words, but other than that, the two of them do nothing but watch television – he now knows that it is Poldark and Emma fancies the actor in the show – and eat the leftover Chinese food they ordered for dinner Thursday night.

“This is not going to go well,” Killian points out as Poldark lies to his business partner, a string of lies that are obviously adding up to a dramatic season finale.

“Hush. Don’t ruin it.”

“How am I ruining it? I feel like anybody with eyes would bloody know that it’s not going to go well.”

“Yeah, but – ”

And then there’s an elongated beep as the power gets out and the room goes nearly black with the overhead lights going out and the television glow no longer illuminating the room.

“Well shit.”

“Maybe it’ll come back on soon. Sometimes it flickers.”

“Yeah,” Emma mumbles, tossing the blanket off of her, “maybe. But maybe – ” there’s another crash of thunder and lightning, and Emma jumps – “maybe it’s a bad thunderstorm, and I’m about to get sweaty as hell because we don’t have air-conditioning. Plus, I really need to see what happens in my show.”

“Do you want me to call the power company and see if it’s a neighborhood shortage?”

“No, no. I’ll just wait it out.”

When the waiting ends up being an hour, Killian ends up calling. It is indeed a neighborhood power shortage, and they’re sending a truck as soon as they can. The storm is apparently bad enough that they’re backed up all across the city, so Killian takes that as them not having any power until the morning at the earliest. So he goes to the storage closet and pulls out a myriad of tea candles and the lighter before illuminating the kitchen and the living room with candles and a few battery-powered lanterns. There’s nothing he can do about the heat, however, since he cannot open any windows without letting the storm inside, so he strips off his t-shirt, folding it and putting it over the back of the couch until he goes upstairs to put it in the hamper.

He sees Emma eyeing him now. She’s not very subtle about it with the way she’s biting her bottom lip, and he has to swallow down the sudden lump in his throat.

“You’re totally using the lack of air-conditioning as a reason to go shirtless,” she laughs.

“This is my home. I theoretically pay half the bills. I can walk around whenever I want without a shirt.”

“Eh, I feel like there are definitely some exceptions to that.”

Killian smiles and shrugs before reaching into the pocket of his joggers for his phone. He thumbs through the apps until he gets to his Spotify, hits one of his playlists, and the soothing sound of Bing Crosby plays through the speakers. Emma always groans when he plays older, softer music, but deep down, he knows that she likes it.

Holding out his hand, Killian stretches his lips into a wide smile while Emma eyes him from the couch.

“What are you doing?” she laughs.

“We have to pass the time. I’m asking you to dance with me.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” she says, even as she leans forward.

“You like dancing, Swan,” he insists, “especially when you have a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

With a shake of her head, Emma reaches her hand out until it’s firmly grasped in his and he’s pulling her off the couch. It’s easy to fall into a rhythm, her arms wrapped around his neck and his hands on her waist. Occasionally, he’ll take her hand in his and twirl her out and then bring her back in, making her tilt her head back with laughter until he can capture that laughter with his mouth, kissing her until both of them are left wanting for breath.

“We should do this when the kids are home,” Emma murmurs into his shoulder where her head is now resting, cheek soft as ever against his skin. “I think it would really gross them out.”

“What? Their father without a shirt and their mum in nothing but her knickers? I don’t know why that would scar them at all? They seem to always love any public displays of affection that we show.”

“I’m not in my knickers,” she teases.

“But you could be,” Killian automatically bites back, and he can feel Emma’s smile in his skin.

“Last week Liam asked me if I could stop kissing you at his games.”

“Did he really?”

“Mhm. He said some of his teammates were, and I’m just quoting him here ‘obsessing over how hot is mom is.’ I swear he nearly threw up when he had to say it.”

Killian chuckles and runs his hand up the smooth skin of Emma’s back before moving his fingers in soothing circles, the ones he knows that she likes. “I mean, I personally think that you are the most attractive woman on the planet, but if my teammates were talking about my mum, I’d be disgusted too. For a myriad of reasons.”

“You have teammates?”

“I’m hypothetically pretending I’m fourteen and in Liam’s position.”

“Ah,” Emma sighs. “Well, yeah, it’s really kind of creepy, but we apparently have to make ourselves unattractive and stand six feet away from each other at his baseball games.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Shut up.” She pulls back from his shoulder so he can see the bright, beautiful green eyes that he fell in love with eighteen years ago. “I say that we sneak behind the bleachers and make out. You know, embarrass him even more.”

“That’s evil, love.”

“Yeah, well, one day he’ll be in the same position of embarrassing his kids. I think it’s a right of passage. He and Amelia will understand one day.”

“I hope so.” Emma presses up on her toes a glides her lips over his, soft and sweet, a contrast to the heat that is beginning to burn in his belly. “But for now, maybe we give them a pass some days and keep to embarrassing them at home.”

“I like that idea.”

Killian kisses Emma until he knows that she’s dizzy, heat burning in both of their bellies and gooseflesh rising on his skin, and while earlier, he was exhausted and all he wanted to do was take a nap, now all he can do is think about laying his wife down on the sofa and kissing every inch of her skin with rain pounding down around them and sweat slicking against his back. The house is sweltering, the summer heat and humidity seeping through its very bones, but he and Emma have no issue with it as Killian’s tongue runs along her inner thigh and then closer to the center still.

When they were younger, this was a constant, insatiable thing. Their nights and mornings and weekends would be filled with this, with not being able to get enough of each other in between living life, and while there are times when Killian misses that, he knows that his life is so much more full now. And, really, he can never get enough of Emma, even if that means something a little different now.

He has been with her for nearly twenty years, and he has seen several different versions of her. From closed off and hurting to open and loving, from a fearless woman who would do anything she wanted to a fearful mother who wasn’t sure if she could be a mother at the same time that he wasn’t sure that he could be a father, hurts and scars terrifying them and holding them still in the moment of life when two lines showed up. And the fear has never really changed, but much like Emma, it’s developed and twisted and become adaptable to their lives now. Growing with her has been his greatest honor, and Killian would not change it for the world.

Emma is who she was always meant to be, and it’s a beauty of a sight to behold.

Emma gasps as her hips buck up, and he presses his arm down across her stomach to hold her still against the cushions. She curses like a sailor then, and he smiles into her before continuing to give her the pleasure she so deserves. It goes on like that for what feels both like ages and not enough time, the heat continuing to accumulate and the thunder consistently rolling, and when Killian slides into Emma in warm stretch of heat, he doesn’t focus on any of the world around them.

He only focuses on her and the smile on her face and the way that she makes a joke that has his stomach aching in a whole new way.

It’s slow and lazy, and they could spend the rest of the evening like this if they wanted to, but there are such things as aching backs and tired bodies, so eventually they do find themselves curled on the couch, breaths heavy and bodies exhausted, and the two of them really should shower. This lack of air-conditioning is a killer.

“If I melt into the couch right now, can you clean me up before the kids get home from my parents’ tomorrow?”

Killian chuckles into Emma’s back and presses his lips there. “Of course. Though, I think if we wanted to scar them, this would be the ultimate way.”

Emma snickers and rolls away from him, standing from the couch and reaching down to grab her t-shirt to pull it back on. It immediately clings to her skin with sweat, and she groans, her lips downturned before they tick up into a smirk. “Do you want to go take a shower and then go to bed? I think if we hurry, we can fall asleep before ten.”

“Sounds like the dream, love.”

Everything with her is.

#cs prompts #cs fic #cs ff #cs fanfic #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic #captain swan