#where in a way it stands in for the other deaths too

[spideyjimin]

Bloodlines entwined: V | jjk

⤷ having a baby alone was supposed to be easy. but an accidental twist of fate pulled you into a hidden world of werewolves, and ancient bloodlines. navigating your already complicated life becomes even harder as you uncover your past; one tied to a legacy you never knew existed. and in the middle of this chaos stands jungkook, the werewolf king… and the father of your child. 

—  pairing: werewolf!jungkook x female reader 

—  genre: strangers to lovers, parents-to-be au, royalty au, werewolves au, soulmates au, angst, fluff, and smut 

— rating: 18+ 

—  words: 9,619

—  warnings: sex dream, strong language, mention of sex, a lot of nervousness, mention of death, mention of murder, crying, mention of grief, heartbreak, mention of abortion, swearing, nipple play, nipple sucking, kind of fingering (not sure if it’s the correct word), and some very big tension

—  author’s note: soo this was supposed to be posted tomorrow, but in the end, I have to post it today 🤗 This chapter is honestly quite intense in a lot of levels, but it unveils a lot about oc’s past, and we will finally understand a lot more about what happened to her parents 🫠 hope you’ll enjoy this chapter 💞

Chapter V: unveiling the past

SERIES MASTERLIST | previous | next

You and Jungkook are abruptly pulled out of your sleep, both affected by the very intense and heated dream you inexplicably shared. The dream involved a lot of kissing, his mouth on your nipples, his tongue lapping at your juices, your tongue swirling along his hard shaft, and his manhood inside your wetted core. It was an intense dream that you both enjoyed way too much.

After the full moon, three days ago, you haven’t really seen or talked to each other. There have been some messages here and there, mostly messages where he checks up on you. Things aren’t awkward between you, you’d actually say the opposite. However, you’re actually convinced that next time you’ll see him you won’t be able to resist him.

“Soooo,” Lexi says once you’re in the kitchen.

This night, you’ve slept at Felix’s house with Lexi to spend a little bit of time together. This whole pregnancy and werewolf journey has pushed you a bit far from them, and you don’t want that. They are a big part of you, they’ve been by your side since the beginning. So Lexi literally decided the other day that instead of having dinner all together, it’d be better if you and she slept here. Like old good times.

“You have to tell me how the little monster’s father is,” she almost demands.

“I don’t have any picture,” you instantly answer while putting coffee in a mug.

“I’m not asking for a picture,” she says. “I want you to describe the man for me.”

You roll your eyes, she’s unbelievable. She’s always so nosy, and since she has learned about the ‘I keep the baby and the father comes along’ story, she’s been dead serious to know everything about Jungkook. However, you don’t really know how to explain to her that 1) you’re a werewolf, and 2) he’s a werewolf king.

“He’s just a man,” you answer.

“You’re boring, yn,” she says before taking a sip of coffee.

“Hi girls,” Felix enters the room with the brightest smile on his face.

He leaves a kiss on top of Lexi’s head before pressing one on your cheek. When his lips meet your cheek, you close your eyes to savor this sweet moment with your father. Being on your own is all good and funny, but you always miss his sweet good morning kisses.

“Hi dad,” Lexi says. “Can you tell yn to provide us with more description than ‘man’ for her baby daddy?”

“Well, at least we know he’s a man,” he teasingly says to his daughter.

“Dad,” she moans. “You’re not helping.”

As she’s complaining to her father, you grab a plate that you place on the table with your coffee before sitting down in front of her. You take a toast, put butter on, and eat it. This is delicious. Simple but delicious.

“Okay,” you surrender. “I’ll tell you.”

“Finally!” she exclaims. “It was about damn time!”

You roll your eyes once more. This lady has an incredible personality, but you adore her. She’s literally your sunshine, you couldn’t live without her.

“It’s a tall Korean man with black short hair,” you start saying. “He has dark brown eyes and has a very athletic body.”

“So you’ve gotten to see his body closely,” she plays with her eyebrows while insinuating something sexy.

“No, I didn’t,” you instantly lie.

She furrows her brows, she knows you’re lying. It’s written all over your face.

“You’re a terrible liar,” she snaps back. “Did you already have sex with him?”

Felix chokes on his coffee, Lexi and yourself now looking at him.

“Don’t talk about that around me,” he defends himself.

“Come one, Dad,” she says. “We’re not ten anymore, we’re thirty, and your daughter is pregnant. We know babies don’t fall from the sky.”

Lexi is the type of girl to be straightforward, especially with you and Felix. In this case, she’s not wrong, but it still feels weird to be talking about sex around him. He’s like a father to you, and it’s just awkward. 

“Yeah, but still, I don’t want to know about what you do with guys,” he says.

“In this case,” you say. “We didn’t do anything like that,” you try to find an excuse without mentioning the wolf transformation. “He just spilled wine on his shirt and removed it in front of me.”

Lexi doesn’t buy it, but she pretends she does. She’s very much convinced you had sex with him, but you’re too ashamed to admit it.

“Mmm,” she says. “Is he hot at least?” she asks. “We need to know if yn junior is going to have good genetics from both parents.”

There’s a sudden heat growing under your cheeks. You don’t want to say that he’s obviously so fucking hot and that you’ve been desiring to do wild things with him. But you’re not going to say that.

“He’s not bad,” you answer. “But my kid doesn’t need him to be good-looking, they just need me.”

Now, she’s the one rolling her eyes. It’s hard to not live with her anymore because you love your little bickerings. She’ll forever be the sister the universe gave you, and despite the tragedy of losing your parents, having her and Felix is the biggest blessing of your life.

“With you as their mother, I’m mostly concerned about their ego, not their beauty.”

“You’re just jealous,” you say before taking another bite of your toast.

Before any of you can add something, your phone rings, your eyes looking down at the screen. It’s a message from Jungkook. A smile appears on your face.      

 “It’s your baby daddy, I guess,” her words make you look up at her.

“Maybe,” you say.

You take your phone to see what he wants.

From Jungkook: Hi yn, how are you today? 😊

His message warms your heart. He’s been asking you every morning how you feel, and you can’t help but find this sweet. You know it’s because you’re carrying his child, but it’s still nice of him to do it.

To Jungkook: Hey Jungkook, all good here, and you? 😊  

His answer comes quite rapidly, Lexi looking at you very intrigued.

From Jungkook: I’m good too 😊 are you still up to meet the shadow’s alpha?

Now your heart starts hammering fast in your chest, and you take a deep breath. Meeting people who can help you unveil your parents’ past is exciting yet stressful. You wish nothing more than to meet this alpha, but you’re also scared of what you’ll find out.

“Are you okay?” Felix asks.

Your eyes look up to meet his. Although you absolutely adore him, you don’t want to tell him about this yet. You don’t even know how to tell him that you’re a werewolf. One thing you’re sure of, you want to know a bit more about your parents’ story before telling him anything. You’ll tell him one day, but not just yet.

“Yeah,” you say.   

To Jungkook: yep still good

Then, you agree with him to meet tomorrow at 4 pm. As you don’t want to stress too much over it, you join Lexi and Felix’s conversation.  

Your heart is beating extremely fast, your foot taping nervously on the floor, and your eyes gazing at the city passing before you. People are walking on the busy streets, many cars are moving around you while Jungkook is driving to the house of Mister Song Sungmin.

None of you speaks, his eyes glancing at you from time to time. He’s not sure if he should say something; he’s scared to say something he shouldn’t or that will hurt you. This is such an important moment for you. You’re about to meet someone that might have known your parents, and their true past.

“You okay?” he simply asks after a while.

“Yes,” your eyes leave the city to look at the man driving.

He’s back to wearing a suit which makes him look powerful, as always. You guess that he’s wearing a suit to reinforce his stature as king, projecting authority for the meeting you’re about to have with an Alpha.

This time around, it’s a grey suit with a black shirt underneath it. He’s extremely hot. But your mind doesn’t really dwell on it for long. All you truly think about is this meeting. It’s what truly matters right now.

A couple of minutes later, you arrive in front of a very pretty house. It seems to be the cozy type.

“Before going inside, there are a few things to know,” Jungkook explains. “Song Sungmin is one of the most powerful Alphas of your pack. He’s moved here after meeting his wife, Song Eunji who happens to be the daughter of a Blood. He’s also the uncle of my best friend, Taehyung.”

You nod before taking Jungkook’s hand to give it a gentle squeeze.

“Thanks,” you whisper.

He offers you a small smile, a cute little dimple appearing on his face. Every time he smiles at you, you want to touch it.  

“I’d do anything to help you.”

And you’re grateful for everything he has done so far. No matter how things evolve between you, you’ll carry him closely in your heart. For sure, your baby is lucky to have him as their father.

“Let me know when you feel ready,” his thumb soothes your hand.

“We can go,” you tell him. “No need to make this last longer.”

In no time, you’re standing on Mister Song’s porch, waiting for him to open the door. Your heart is strongly hammering in your chest. This is more than scary, but you feel like you’re slowly getting closer to unveiling the truth about your parents. Strangely, it also makes you feel closer to them.

When he opens the door, your entire world freezes. Even your heart stops beating. You know this man. You met him twenty years ago, on the night your parents were killed. He’s the man that protected you from the butchery.

Twenty years ago, you were watching TV with your parents, but around 8 pm, somebody knocked at the door. It was your mother that opened it, and she was discussing with a man before she came to take you.

“Mommy and Daddy need to do something,” she told you in her honey-like voice. “This man is a good friend of mine, and he will take care of you while we’re gone.”

You were only ten so you didn’t question it. You didn’t think much about the fact they had something to do at 8 pm, something definitely unusual. You didn’t question the fact that you had never seen this man before. You didn’t even notice how scared she looked. You didn’t question anything, something you’ve deeply regretted your entire life.

This man took you to an ice cream store, offered you all the ice cream you wanted, and talked to you. Back then, you felt like the luckiest girl in the world. It wasn’t every day that an old friend of your parents would come and give you all the ice cream you wanted. Over time, you forgot about the man’s name because, on that tragic night, you lost your parents. This man didn’t matter anymore.  

Jungkook’s glance goes from you to Sungmin, and he doesn’t need to be a genius to understand you both know each other. It’s definitely surprising, but not completely. You’re living in the same city, and you’re part of the same pack.

“You’ve already met, I suppose,” Jungkook breaks the long silence between you.

You and Sungmin nod, your eyes never leaving his.

“Please come inside,” he invites you in.

Before closing the door, he looks around to make sure nobody else is there.

“Would you like something to drink or eat?” he proposes with a smile on his face.

As you look at him, you notice that he hasn’t changed at all, except for the grey hair. He still has a warm and comforting smile on his face. A smile you never forgot.

“No, thank you,” you answer.

Jungkook answers the same, and the older man guides you toward the terrace. His house is pretty modest and filled with pictures everywhere. It might be his children and grandchildren. There are also pictures of him younger and he definitely hasn’t changed in a while. It seems like he always had this compelling posture as if he has always meant to be an Alpha.   

“Please take a seat,” he shows the chairs arranged around the table.

The three of you sit down, your eyes wandering around. This terrace is very beautiful, you hope that one day you’ll have a similar one. But you’ll need to earn a lot more money.

“So this is yn,” Jungkook introduces you. “The woman I talked to you about on the phone.”

“I know who she is,” the older man says, his eyes moving to you. “You’ve grown a lot in twenty years,” he smiles at you. “And you’ve become a wonderful woman.”

“Thanks,” you smile back at him. “You haven’t changed at all.”

Sungmin looks away for a minute as he wants to hide the tears forming in his eyes. You are his biggest secret. Nobody ever knew that, twenty years ago, he offered you as much ice cream as you desired. When he looks back at you and Jungkook, you only feel compassion for this man.

“I knew one day we’d meet again and I’ve been waiting every day, for the past twenty years,” he begins. “I was expecting you to come earlier, but I’m glad you finally came.”

“What happened?” Jungkook asks with curiosity.

Sungmin takes a deep breath, a lump forming in his throat as he remembers the events.

“Twenty years ago, your father the king found her parents. The ones that were running away from the pack for ten years.”

He doesn’t need to say much more. Jungkook knows. On your side, you frown, not sure to understand what he means, but you carefully listen to him.

“When I was informed of it, I ran to their house. I needed to see for myself if their child was still alive. If they really had a child ten years prior. Before I even knocked at the door, I heard that little giggle only a kid can do. It broke my heart,” a tear runs down his face. “And I took the terrible decision to take that child away from the house. I took that child as far away as possible because I was scared they could hear the screams of their parents. I didn’t want that child to grow up with that trauma.”

Then, you start to understand what is going on. You’re not a werewolf, or at least not completely. You’re a hybrid, and your parents were killed because of that. That explains why they never talked about it to you. They didn’t know if one day you’ll manifest any wolf signs. That’s why they also ran away from their hometown, and why your grandparents never approved their love. One of them was a human.

“I lied to everybody, I made them believe I had killed the child. Since nobody saw her face, it was easy to lie,” he looks down at the table. “I knew what I did was wrong, but killing a ten-year-old for a sin she never committed was inhuman. Putting an end to a pregnancy is one thing, but cutting short a child’s life is totally another,” his eyes look back up at you. “I don’t regret what I did, and I will never regret it.”

Shivers run down your spine. So your wolf abilities weren’t really dormant, they were there all along, but they were mixed with human blood. The pregnancy simply awoke that side of you, especially since you’re carrying a wolf’s child. Your baby is the reason why you’re now able to turn, and why your powers have increased. Your baby is the reason why you’re finally digging into your past.

“Since you’re a hybrid, I never knew what to expect. All I expected was for you to find me one day, and you did.”

“So Jung… Mister Jeon’s father is the reason why my parents were killed?” you ask.

Jungkook finds it weird that you call him Mister Jeon, but he can understand it. You’ve always been very respectful and even though you’re pretty close now, you still respect his king stature.

“No,” he shakes his head. “We are.”

Tears start appearing in your eyes, and both men only feel sorry for you.

“Your mother was a werewolf and had fallen in love with a human. She was the rebellious type, she never really followed the rules. Her parents and the pack were repeating that this love story would only end badly, but she didn’t care. Then, she got pregnant and ran away with your father,” Sungmin explains. “Hybrids are forbidden as you might know so we tracked her. For nine years we looked for them, but it was in vain. We then asked for the king’s help because he had better resources than us. In a year, he found you and we did what we had to.”

Now, the tears run down your face as you realize the extent of the situation. Your entire existence is forbidden. You shouldn’t exist, but here you are. And on top of that, you’re pregnant with the king’s child. Another forbidden life.

“How did my mother react when she saw you?” you ask.

“She wasn’t surprised at all, she even thought I was going to kill her, but I told them I wanted to protect the three of you,” he answers. “She told me that the only person she wanted me to protect was you. She was ready to face the consequences of her actions, but she didn’t want you to die for her sins.”

Thinking about her selfless move breaks your heart. You’re trying as hard as possible to not burst into tears in front of this man. Your mother always put you first, she was always making sure you were happy.

“She knew that the pack would kill you first, right in front of her eyes. She didn’t want her last souvenir to be that so I respected her last will—to protect you.”

Jungkook’s hand finds yours to hold it as tight as possible. This mustn’t be easy to hear. It mustn’t be easy to learn that you’re a hybrid. The only living hybrid.

“Who murdered them?” you ask. “My grandparents?”

The older man shakes his head. “They weren’t even present; how could they be? No matter what, she was their daughter. A daughter they deeply loved. It was another Alpha who did it,” he seems obviously very shaken up by this event. “Our pack has never been the same since then. Your grandparents retreated completely, grieving forever a daughter and granddaughter they lost. Each year, we gather together at your grandparents’ place to pay tribute to your mother and you.”

It devastates beyond comprehension to picture it. People have been grieving someone alive all along. People have been thinking about you when they hadn’t even met you.

“Even if you’re a hybrid, you’re part of our pack, and your grandparents always made sure to include you in those heartbreaking moments.”

“So you never revealed to them I was alive?” you ask.

Sungmin shakes his head. “I tried many times, but the words never left my lips.”

Right now, you only want to disappear. You don’t want anybody to see you while this devastating pain eats you alive. Mister Song and your parents protected you from death. They allowed you to live when you shouldn’t have.

Your wish to disappear is granted when you do so due to all the intense emotions you’re feeling right now. Jungkook is then unable to see you, but he can still feel you as his hand remains on yours. His fingers never stop caressing you in an attempt to calm the storm growing inside you.

Sungmin follows you and disappears as well but you’re still able to see him. You still see him like he didn’t blur into his surroundings. It’s so weird.

“I’m so sorry, yn,” his hand reaches out to yours, a hand that you hold.

“It’s not your fault,” you try to reassure him. “You did what my mother wanted; you protected me from a certain death.”

“But I could have insisted, I could have protected them,” he answers.

“You know better than I do that the pack would have never stopped looking for them. The issue would have been the same no matter what.”   

Your parents' end was destined to be tragic, but they chose to love each other. They chose each other despite the bans. They chose to have a child together and protect you as long as they could.

They knew from the beginning that you’d end up growing up without them. And right now, you hate them as much as you love them. They did all this for you, but you still hate them for knowing you’d be alone and without them.

Then Sungmin reappears, his gaze serious and looking at Jungkook, his king. He knows now what will happen to him. He’s a traitor. He helped a forbidden couple, protected a child that shouldn’t exist, and lied to the entire werewolf community.  

“Mister Jeon,” his voice tone is deep. “I’m ready to face the consequences of my acts.”

Your heart hammers in your chest, your eyes now looking at Jungkook. Slowly, you reappear as well. Jungkook has never faced such a situation, and he can’t make a decision in the heat of the moment. He needs to think, and most probably, he’ll have to report this incident to the council. Not only did Sungmin break the rules, but there’s a hybrid walking amongst them. The council will show no mercy to you and Sungmin.

But he can’t lose you, not after all of this.

He has a very strong and deep connection with you, and you’re carrying his child. This isn’t simple anymore.    

“Mister Song,” he says with a very strong tone. “I appreciate your honesty; it has enlightened us about Miss y/l/n’s past. But I can’t decide right now what to do.”

The older man nods, understanding that Jungkook is now deeply involved. He can hear that faint heartbeat in your belly, and above anything else, he can smell that baby’s scent. It’s a unique one. They’re carrying the strong scent that only the child of a king has. He can also see how deeply the king cares about you.

His decision doesn’t just implicate the Alpha. It implicates you, the baby, and him. Whatever he decides, the three of you will be impacted. It isn’t a light decision to make.

“I will be thinking about it and come back to you once I’ve decided.”

The Alpha bows to his king as a sign of respect. It’s really impressive the power Jungkook holds, and how even such an old Alpha submits to his king. This is incredible.

“Thank you, your Majesty,” he says while bowing.

The drive back to your place is done in complete silence. In some way, the car feels heavier, as if the weight of the truth you’ve just learned is pressing down on you. This time, your eyes are red and swollen, and your face is ravaged by the tear you couldn’t hold back anymore. Learning about your past terribly scared you, but knowing it breaks your heart. Now, you know what happened on that tragic night in July. You now understand why your parents were so cruelly murdered—or should you say executed—, and why you were spared.

Jungkook keeps his eyes focused on the road, but you can sense the tension in him. His grip on the wheel is tight, his knuckles turning white, and he constantly glances in your direction. He wants to say something, to comfort you, but nothing seems to come out of his mouth. He isn’t even sure his words will ever be able to comfort you.

Once in front of the apartment complex, he slows the car to a stop. His eyes shift to you fully for the first time. There’s something in his expression that stops your heart. There isn’t only worry, there’s pain as well, as if he’s carrying this burden with you. You’ve never seen that in his gaze; he’s never looked at you this way before, so unguarded, so raw.

The moment your eyes lock with his, the world around you seems to disappear. There’s no sound, no city around you, no heartbeats echoing in your ears. There’s just the two of you. His presence is comforting, it’s like he’s healing your sorrows in a way you can’t explain. How can someone make you feel this way, so understood, so seen?

“Can you stay with me, please?” you finally ask as you try to control your voice. “I don’t want to stay alone today.”

His response is immediate, and his voice is reassuring, “Sure,” he nods. “I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

The gratitude in your chest is overwhelming, and you manage to offer him a small smile.

“Thanks,” you murmur.  

Jungkook pulls into the nearest parking space before cutting the engine. You sit there for a moment, neither of you speaking. The air is heavy with unspoken emotions. Finally, he steps out of the car and moves around to your side, opening the door and offering you his hand. His touch is warm, and grounding, and you take it without hesitation.

Without removing your hand from his, you both walk to your apartment. Jungkook is very much tempted to intertwine his fingers with yours; to offer you some unspoken reassurance but he doesn’t do anything, too scared of crossing an invisible line. Even inside the elevator, your hands remain locked. Neither of you speaks, but the warmth of his palm against yours feels reassuring. You only separate your hands to open the door.  

When you get inside, you both strip off your coats and shoes. You look at him, and he is lingering near the door, unsure whether he should move further.

“Do you want to drink or eat something?” you ask out of politeness.

“No, thanks,” he shakes his head. His voice is calm, but there’s something in his eyes. There’s concern, guilt, and ache that he doesn’t try to hide.

You nod and move to the living room to sit on the couch. Jungkook hesitates for a moment before joining you, sitting close but not too close. However, you close the distance as you throw yourself in his arms. You don’t hold back any tears, now crying in his arms. You’ve only known him for two months, but nobody has ever made you feel like this. You can undoubtedly trust him.

You rest your head against his chest, tears spilling over. He doesn’t hesitate, wrapping an arm around you, his hand gently rubbing your back. The warmth of his embrace melts some tension inside you, and for the first time today, you feel like you can breathe again.

None of you speaks, Jungkook just rubs your back while you cry in his arms. You deeply miss your parents and discovering what truly happened to them devastates you beyond comprehension. Will you ever be able to overcome this? Will you now be able to finally accept your parents’ death?

You’re not sure, but only time will tell.

However, now the biggest question is what will happen to you? You’re a hybrid. You’re not supposed to exist, let alone the life growing inside you. Will you have to terminate the pregnancy? Will you be executed like your parents were twenty years ago? Jungkook is the only one who can answer you. He’s the one who’ll have to make that decision.

And, then there are your grandparents. They believe that you’re dead, and you’d like to meet them. You’d like to tell them that you’re very much alive, that Mister Song protected you all this time, that he saved your life. You’d like to tell them that they don’t have to honor your memory anymore.  

But you aren’t even sure you can do that. You aren’t even sure that they’ll accept to meet you.

And there’s also your paternal grandparents. You’d also like to meet them. They are human, and their opinion of you might be pretty much different. Unless they know their son married a werewolf. Now that you know the truth, you desperately desire to meet your grandparents. The four of them.

You’d also like to know if you have uncles, aunts, and cousins. There is so much you want to know about your family, but let’s not rush anything. First, you need to digest what Sungmin revealed. There was a lot of information.

Slowly, but surely, your tears stop falling down, and the pain inside your heart seems to be a bit more bearable. But you still hold onto his embrace for a little more. You don’t want to let go of him just yet.

“Thanks a lot for your support,” you say while you put an end to the embrace and clean your face. “You’ve helped me so much.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he smiles. “You were embarked in this by my fault. The least I can do is help you.”

“This was never your fault in the first place,” you shake your head.

Maybe the clinic’s mistake wouldn’t have changed anything. Maybe, no matter who the father was, the pregnancy would have awakened your wolf blood. But, no matter what you have wolf blood in you, and sooner or later, something would have triggered it. The good part is that with the clinic’s mistake, you have Jungkook by your side.   

“But now we’ve discovered I’m a hybrid,” you continue.

Jungkook nods, his hand running through his hair. It’s the first time that he doesn’t know what to do. He’s completely lost because he’s starting to have feelings for you, and because it involves his child too. The rules are clear: hybrids can’t exist. But he never pictured himself falling for one, and having a child with one too. Your baby carries human blood; they aren’t of pure blood. How can such an heir exist? Nobody will ever accept to be ruled by the child of a hybrid.  

On top of that, this child is also the first one who isn’t fully a Blood. They have the blood of the Shadows running down their veins. Jungkook strongly believes that his blood will predominate, but there’s still a chance that they choose to be a Shadow. It will destabilize everything.

The thing with mixed-blood kids is that nature will choose to which pack they’ll belong. Nobody can belong to two packs. For sure, they’ll carry the heritage of both since their parents will be from two different packs. But we can’t know beforehand which pack they’ll be part of. It’ll only be found out at birth because once out of the womb, they’ll have the pack’s eye color for a couple of days.

There are so many unknowns now with this child.  

And he still has to reveal to his family he’s about to become a father. He was waiting to discover a bit more about your past before telling them about this wonderful news. But now, things are again complicated. His mother will tell him to put an end to both yours and the baby’s life. He’s not sure how his siblings might react to this, but he’s not expecting something positive.  

“What will happen to me?” you ask with a shaky voice.

His eyes meet yours, and they are glowing with something that gives you some hope.

“I’ll protect you,” he responds without hesitation. “Nobody is ever going to hurt you. I won’t let anyone touch you,” his tone is firm and assertive.  

Your heart now beats rapidly in your chest. It reassures you that he’ll protect you, and it means a lot since he’s a king. He’s supposed to be the one who leads by example, yet, he’ll be the first one breaking the rules. He’s going to protect a hybrid, a person that shouldn’t exist.

Jungkook gets closer, his hand delicately placing a strand of hair behind your ear. This simple gesture sends shivers down your spine. Your eyes get lost in his, and the world seems to disappear around you as his thumb lightly brushes against your cheek, leaving a warmth that spreads through your entire body.   

Time seems to pause, the air between you charged with unspoken desire. His face moves dangerously closer to yours until you feel his hot breath on your skin. Your heart hammers faster and faster in your chest, and for a brief moment, nothing else matters. There is no doubt that he’s about to kiss you, and truthfully, there’s nothing else you want more right now.

You know you wanted your first kiss to be deliberate, free from the chaos of emotions you’ve been swept into. But none of that matters now. The yearning you’ve buried rises to the surface, consuming you. All you care about is to taste his lips against yours. You want to know how they feel on yours. Those wild sex dreams have ignited something inside you, and you terribly desire to bring those dreams to life.  

His nose brushes against yours, the bare touch making you shiver. His proximity is intoxicating, and your lips are a breath away from meeting. When his eyes search yours, you know he’s silently asking for permission. And this time, you don’t pull away. Instead, your lips part slightly, and he sees the answer in your expression.

Then, he finally closes the distance. His lips press against yours with hesitation at first. The kiss is soft, and it feels like you’re discovering a part of yourself you never knew existed. His hand finds its way to the back of your neck, holding you while he deepens the kiss.

The world entirely disappears as his lips move against yours, guiding you, consuming you. Your body leans into his instinctively, your hands finding his chest, the fabric of his shirt bunching beneath your fingers. When his tongue brushes your lower lip, your stomach flips, and you let him in.

The sensation is overwhelming and beautiful, a perfect blend of desire and intimacy as your tongues meet in a slow, sensual dance. He tastes like everything you’ve ever craved but never let yourself hope for. The kiss is tender as if he’s pouring all his emotions into this single moment.

When you break the kiss, you’re both breathless, foreheads resting against each other as your eyes meet once again. Jungkook’s fingers softly caress your face, his touch is so soft it almost makes you shiver. You close your eyes to savor this moment. 

It’s a victory—not his, not yours, but yours together. You’ve been fighting this connection, but there’s no denying it anymore. This kiss has unraveled something inside you, and now there’s no going back. Now that you’ve had a taste of him, you know one thing for sure: he’s become impossible to resist.

His lips meet yours once more, but this time, he’s kissing you with a fervent passion. While kissing you, his strong body pushes you, allowing you to lay on the couch, his body hovering over yours. Then, his lips slowly descend to your jaw, your neck, cleavage, and they stop right above your shirt.

His eyes look up to meet yours as if he’s asking permission to keep going down. You nod, giving him free will to do whatever he wants. Without wasting any more time, his hand pushes down your shirt with your bra, exposing your breasts to his hungry eyes. The coldness of the air sends shivers through your body, your nipples hardening instantly. His breathing gets heavier as his eyes are glued to your chest.  

“Fuck,” he mumbles.

Then, without any warning, his warm mouth meets your right nipple to torture it with his tongue and teeth. Instant moans fall out your lips, and your hands find their way to his hair, playing with some strands while he vigorously sucks on your nipple. It feels blissful. You never imagined a simple kiss could lead to this.  

His left hand assaults your other breast, louder moans escape your lips, loving the way he’s giving you pleasure with his mouth and fingers. Your hands slightly pull at his hair while your mind is completely lost in lust. You’re completely unable to think correctly. The man on top of you shows no mercy, torturing you in the most exquisite way possible.

Jungkook definitely knows how to use his fingers and mouth, and damn, it’s even better than any wild dreams you had involving him. You don’t even want to start thinking about how it must feel to have his dick inside you.

“Jungkook…” you whisper as you picture him naked again.

That sweet sound makes his shaft grow harder, the space slowly growing smaller inside his pants. The way you turn him on is unique, nobody holds such a powerful grip on him. His mouth moves then to your left nipple to treat it exactly like your other nipple. The wetness inside your underwear only grows bigger, you can feel it. The amount of pleasure he’s giving you right now is out of mind, and you know you’ll come quickly.   

His right hand snails down on your body, stopping when it reaches the hem of your trousers. Very carefully, he unbuttons and unzips them. The second his fingers brush your core through your panties, a deep guttural sound leaves your lips, and your hand pulls harder into his hair. That action causes him to moan against your nipple.

This is such a blissful torture, but if he keeps touching you like that and moaning against your body, you’ll come undone rapidly.

His fingers slowly rub your pussy through your underwear, making you slowly turn into a moaning mess. Your body is contorting with pleasure under his, and you can feel his half-hard dick brushing against your thighs. The feeling is marvelous as you get to sense how’s feeling about this too.

Then, without further notice, he slips his fingers under your panties. His hand cups your pussy whole, and you both moan at the sensation. Jungkook is instantly welcomed with your wetness on his hot palm. Another moan slips through his mouth which makes you whimper. There’s no way you’ll survive this.  

“You’re so fucking wet,” he murmurs.

Jungkook drags his fingers down your slit, purposely avoiding your clit. You close your eyes in order to feel this all even more profoundly, a deep breath escaping your lips. The coldness of his fingers against your core is electrifying. You’re getting addicted to this man as he gives you more and more pleasure. How have you been living this whole time without his touch?

You lick your lips as he slowly rubs you up and down, spreading your own wetness over your sensitive skin. This feels so good, and it pushes away all the terrible emotions you went through today. His eyes look up at you as he desires to picture your face while being consumed by pleasure.

Your hips twitch against the couch when the tip of his finger brushes on your clit. As he does so, you feel a pleasurable electricity rushing through your body. Jungkook’s mouth stops abusing your nipple, his eyes completely hypnotized on your sweet face. His hand runs up and down your core and he makes sure that his fingertip touches your clit.

“How does it feel?” he finally breaks the silence.

“So…” you try to speak while he never stops his ministrations. “So good,” you whimper.

His fingertip now draws circles into your hardened clit, your back arching off of the couch, and your hips meeting his hand. The friction of his hand against your pussy is beyond delightful, his fingers bringing you straight to heaven.

“Jungkook,” you moan his name on repeat.

Your orgasm is slowly growing inside you, you know you won’t last any longer. It’s just a matter of seconds now. The man above you senses it the second your legs start shaking more and more. His fingers work harder, helping you chase your own pleasure.  

Then, you let go and the wave of pleasure violently washes over you. Jungkook stops his movements when he feels your juices leaking all over his hand. A smirk grows on his face, proud of himself for giving you an orgasm.

Jungkook removes his hand from your panties and buckles back your pants. Your heavy breathing slowly gets back to normal and after a while, you open back your eyes. The man who just gave you an orgasm offers you the brightest smile on earth.

“Hope you like it,” he says.

“It was wooow,” you tell him as you sit back on the couch.

The man presses a soft kiss on your cheek before arranging your messy hair. He can’t help but find you extremely adorable.

“Next time,” he whispers in your ear. “My fingers won’t be the only thing giving you an orgasm,” his deep voice sends shivers down your spine. His tongue licks your ear, a deep moan leaving your mouth.

The two of you know that this is just the beginning of what is going on between you. This connection is only growing stronger, and sooner or later, he’ll be standing between your legs, thrusting deeply inside of you.

And honestly, you can’t wait for that day to happen.

Tonight, Jungkook has arranged a family dinner.

It’s about time he reveals yours and the child’s existence to his family members. He’s pretty much nervous about this, but he has to tell them. A new life will join this family very soon. The next heir is on the way, and he can’t hide this from them any longer.

His mother is the first one to arrive, and she takes him in her arms. Then, a couple of minutes later, his younger brothers Hyunjin and Mingi make their appearances. And finally, Dohee appears with her husband, Namjoon.

It’s been a while since the entire family has been reunited under this roof. Dohee left the house eight years ago when she married Namjoon. His mother, Hyunjin, and Mingi left after the passing of his father. Back then, Yuna was slowly moving in and they wanted to give them the space they needed. After the breakup, they didn’t come back; they felt like it wasn’t their home anymore.

Hyunjin is six years younger than Jungkook, and he’s been in a very serious relationship with Nari for five years. Jungkook is surprised he hasn’t proposed to her yet; she’s his soulmate after all. Then, there’s Mingi, the youngest Jeon. He’s ten years younger and he was the surprise baby; their parents weren’t trying to have a baby at that time. Out of the four of them, Mingi was the most spoiled.

Even though Jungkook is closer to Dohee, the four Jeon’s siblings have a strong bond. The oldest always made sure they’d get along because family is so damn important. Their father’s death brought them even closer, and they’ve always been by their mother’s side to ensure she doesn’t grieve alone.

“So,” Jungkook begins, his eyes looking at the five people around the table. “Thanks for coming,” he smiles at them.

Dohee smiles back at her brother, her hand rubbing her belly. She should soon give birth to her fourth and, most probably, last child.

“There is a new Jeon on the way,” Jungkook’s smile grows bigger as he breaks the news.  

Jisoo, Jungkook’s mother stands up to hold her oldest child in her arms. Jungkook embraces her with the same strength, a tear forming in his eyes as her reaction deeply moves him.

“I’m so happy, Kook,” she says, her cheek pressed against his chest.

While he hugs his mother, he sees his sister’s face. Although she’s smiling and seems happy, something in her expression unsettles him. He knows she’s thinking about the fact that the baby is a hybrid; she was the only one aware of it back then. But, so much has happened since he talked to her, events that she will know now.

His mother sits back in her chair while her hands clean the tears on her face. Another one of her children is about to make her a grandmother again. Dohee is the only one who has been giving her grandchildren, and she’s happy Jungkook is also going to give her another one. She can’t wait to have her house filled with grandchildren.

His siblings and Namjoon congratulate him on the fantastic news. Although their reactions make him happy, he knows this light mood will not last long. They most probably will hate him when he’ll tell them what you truly are.

“Have you already met the surrogate?” his mother asks out of curiosity.

“A surrogate?” Hyunjin asks.

“I sought the help of a fertility clinic to have a child,” Jungkook explains to his brother. “It was getting harder to be waiting to become a father.”

His eyes move back to his mother to answer her question.

“But there’s no surrogate, mom,” he tells her.

Everybody’s reaction is the same. They all widen their eyes, except his sister. She’s known this for a month already, but she’s now worried about why he’s revealing this to the family. He should know nobody will be happy about him being a father to a hybrid, especially their mother.

“Are you with somebody?” she asks. “Or is it Yuna?”

“It’s absolutely not Yuna,” he instantly answers. “And I’m not with anyone, at least, not yet,” he rants.

Jisoo seems to be happy about all of this, but she still wants to understand how on earth he’s about to be a father if there’s no girlfriend and no surrogate. She starts wondering if he slept with someone only to have a child.

“The fertility clinic made a big mistake,” he explains. “A woman was mistakenly impregnated with my material, and at first, I thought she was a human. Obviously, this wasn’t possible since the baby would then be a hybrid,” they all shake their heads.

Jungkook purposely omits that he didn’t convince you to abort; his mother would kill him if she ever found out. Dohee takes a deep breath and shifts on her chair to try to find a comfortable position.

“But then, I found out that she wasn’t human,” he proceeds. “And it changed everything, she could keep the baby.”

Dohee’s expression now fully changes. She wasn’t expecting that, so she’s now very happy for her brother to have a pure-blood kid. Jungkook notices her sincere smile, and it already hurts him to even think about what he’s about to say next.

“However, she didn’t know that she was a werewolf.”

Now, they all frown, confused by this sentence. It clearly doesn’t make any sense.  

“How’s that possible?” Mingi asks.

Jungkook’s heart stammers in his chest. How does he explain now who you truly are? He’s not even sure he wants to do it, but he doesn’t have much of a choice. His family needs to learn from him that you’re a hybrid. Not from someone else.

“Her parents left their hometown, cut ties with their families, never told her about her wolf side, and died when she was still a kid,” he summarizes. “She was then raised by a human and never found out the truth until she got pregnant.”

He hardly swallows before he continues to reveal what has been going on for the past nine weeks. Honestly, those past weeks have been an emotional rollercoaster.

“I’ve been trying to help her discover what happened because as you can imagine, it’s a lot to take in.”

His heart is going crazy in his chest, and he’s barely able to look at his family as he proceeds with the story.

“She’s part of the Shadows, and I reached out to Mister Song to help us unveil her past.”   

They remain in silence, letting Jungkook speak. The man takes then an unreadable expression on his face to protect himself from what is about to come. He hates that he has to do it with his family, but he has to.

“Mister Song told us that thirty years ago, a Shadow woman ran away with a human,” his heart beats faster. His eyes move to his mother, hoping that she recalls that incident.

“Oh yeah, I remember that,” she says. “The Shadows couldn’t find them so they reached out to your father. After ten years, they managed to find them and their child.”

Jungkook bites his lower lip and he’s not sure how to continue with the story. Does he say now that you’re a hybrid? Does he maintain the mystery any longer?

“Well, we found out that the child was never killed,” he explains while avoiding saying that Sungmin spared your life. “And that child is the mother of mine.”

For a moment, the room is filled with a sharping silence. Jungkook doesn’t look away, trying to understand their expressions. They are all speechless, but he can see anger forming in his mother’s eyes. He was expecting it; she has never messed with the rules. He admires her for following the rules, not everybody does it, but this time around, it will be hard for her. He’s not going to abandon you because of your true nature. 

Mingi and Hyunjin are surprised but seem intrigued by all of this. Jungkook can see that curious flicker in their eyes. Dohee seems utterly shocked, but her expression softens when her eyes meet her brother’s. Namjoon seems mind-blown. And Jisoo, the matriarch, looks angry.  

“What?” Namjoon is the first one to break the silence. “A hybrid has been living for thirty years and nobody ever found out.”

Jungkook nods. “Yep.”

“A hybrid?” Mingi says. “That’s cool,” he continues.

“Mingi,” the mother’s harsh voice echoes in the room. “Hybrids are forbidden, there’s absolutely nothing cool about them,” her eyes now move to Jungkook. “And you, my son,” she’s very angry. “You know what you have to do.”

As he hears her words, a strong feeling of protection grows in him. Even if she’s his mother, she can’t tell him what to do, especially when it includes you.  

“No,” his tone is firm. “There won’t be any killing.”

“Neither the baby nor her can exist, son,” she responds.

“Like I said, there won’t be any killing,” his voice is calm, but still very firm.

Dohee, Mingi, Hyunjin, and Namjoon watch in disbelief the scene displaying in front of their eyes. It’s the first time Jungkook is using that tone on their mother, and it’s also the very first time he’s not agreeing with her. It seems like an unrealistic moment.

“She’s a hybrid, for fuck’s sake,” she swears, catching everybody off guard. “She can’t exist! It’s already a miracle she managed to live up until now, but you have to end her life right now before anybody else ever finds out about her.”

“Do you hear yourself, mom?” he says. “You’re talking about killing someone like it’s the same as making a cake. We’re talking about a life. In this case, even about two lives.”

The king runs his fingers through his hair, a sign that he’s extremely nervous. He knew his mother wouldn’t accept any of this, but it’s harder than he imagined. He hates to be standing against her. She has always been by his side, supporting him whenever he needed it.   

“I’m not saying it like that, but the rules are the rules,” she says.

“Then, fuck the rules!” he swears.

Now, everybody is surprised by his words. This isn’t the Jungkook they used to know; he’s been always composed and now, it seems to be losing it.

“Jungkook,” Dohee tries to intervene.

“Don’t Jungkook me,” he says to his sister.

He’s trying to stay calm, but it’s getting harder. Nobody seems to understand what he’s feeling.

“It’s easy for everybody to follow the rules when it doesn’t involve your child,” his voice tone gets higher. “I got attached to that baby even if they’re not born yet. I constantly hear their heartbeat every time I’m around her, and I can’t put an end to their life. It’s a big no,” he’s very firm. “It’s my child we’re talking about.”  

Tears start forming in his eyes, and his mother’s heart breaks as she hears his words. It makes her realize the complexity of the situation. For a moment, she puts herself in his shoes, trying to understand him.

When she found out that she was pregnant with Jungkook, it was the most beautiful day of her life. She desired her entire life to become a mother, and after her marriage, that desire only grew bigger. Hearing her son’s faint heartbeat was such an appeasing sound, and it was the prettiest sound she ever heard.

So, imagining that she needed to terminate the pregnancy because that child is a hybrid breaks her heart. It’s a decision she’s not sure she’ll be able to make. But the rules are the rules. Even if her grandchild will have more wolf blood than human blood, that doesn’t change the fact that the mother is a hybrid. She shouldn’t even exist in the first place.

“And she’s my soulmate,” his voice breaks.

Jungkook has been pushing aside the nature of his feelings for you, but after yesterday’s events, he finally realized it. You’re his soulmate. You’re the person that destiny chose for him. You’re the person with whom he’s supposed to mate. It’s a powerful bond that nobody will ever be able to break.

“I will protect her at all costs,” he adds.

His mother closes her eyes in disbelief.

“There’s nothing we can say, then,” Dohee concludes. “Except for Mingi, we all know how it feels to be around your soulmate, how powerful the love is, how deep the connection is, and what we’ll do to save our soulmates. For sure, she’s not supposed to exist, but destiny bonded her to you, our king. You have all powers, and we all know you’ll put her safety first,” she quickly looks at her husband. “I can’t blame you, Kookie. In your shoes, I would do the same. I’d save and protect Namjoon even if he was a hybrid.”

Jungkook looks at his mother, expecting now a reaction from her. Like Dohee said, she should know how he feels. For sure, his situation is messy as hell, but there’s not much he can do. If he kills you, he’ll forever be dead on the inside. A soulmate is a one-time thing; he doesn’t get to have two soulmates. 

“This is like a movie, but better,” Mingi says with a playful smile on his face. “Our brother, known as the werewolf king, falls in love with a hybrid, a forbidden species in our world, and he got her pregnant.”

“Stop being silly, Ming,” Hyunjin strikes his elbow against Mongi’s. “This is serious.”

“Rooh,” Mingi says. “I’m just trying to lighten the mood. I know it’s serious, but as Dohee said, there’s nothing we can do. The hybrid is Jk’s soulmate so we better accept the situation and help him. That’s it.”

Mingi makes everything sound so easy, as he always does. His chill, laid-back, and easygoing nature makes him the most relaxed of all the siblings, and in moments like this, it’s exactly what’s needed.

“The hybrid’s name is yn,” Jungkook says once he realizes he didn’t even say your name.

“Son,” Jisoo says as she opens her eyes. “In between us, we can accept it because we know what she represents for you. But how will the others react when they realize that yn, their possible future queen, is a hybrid, and that the next heir is not of pure blood?”

Hearing his mother say that you’ll probably be the next queen makes him feel weird, but in a good way. The words catch him off guard at first, a mix of surprise and uncertainty flickering through him. But the thought of having you by his side, not just as a partner but as his equal, makes his chest swell with a warmth he didn’t expect. Maybe, just maybe, the idea of you as queen is a future he wouldn’t mind embracing. 

“We all know how they will react,” she pauses for a moment. “They will try to kill her. Soulmate or not.”

“I don’t care,” he honestly replies. “I will protect her from everything and anything.”

No matter what people say, he’ll do whatever he can to keep you safe. He’s a king so he has the resources to protect you, and he also hopes that his authority as king might protect you as well.

“Okay,” the matriarch answers. “Then, if you don’t mind, I’d like to meet her.”

A smile appears on her face. It’s not easy, but she’s ready to make an effort for her son. She’ll try to accept this all because you’re his soulmate. However, she needs to meet you first so she can see what kind of person you are.

“Okay,” he smiles. “I’ll arrange that.”

The tension slowly fades away and the family continues the dinner while talking of other things. Jungkook is aware of the fight waiting for him, and he knows it won’t be easy, but you’re worth it.

[thatssomegoodsoup]

Hi! Could you do The Doctor x Reader where the Doctor turned the reader into a humanoid animatronic(?) toy when he was still Sawyer? Maybe they rejected him when they were human, found out about the experiments etc. I'll leave it up to you~

imagining so much angst for this one! (I might actually write a fic for once)

HARLEY SAWYER X READER FANFIC

CONTENT WARNING: death

Youu were first assigned to work with Harley Sawyer (to say this man was annoyed would be an understatement. He didn't want to work with anyone else). Eventually Sawyer warmed up to you, liking how well you contributed to his work. And soon, he caught himself catching feelings for you, and you caught feelings for him. You two would subtly flirt all the time during work.

And soon, due to your intellect, you climbed the ranks, from intern to researcher to junior researcher to senior researcher to second in command beside Sawyer.

And the more your rank grew, you more you learned about the experiments they were doing. The Bigger Bodies Initiative. And the more disgusted you became. They were using CHILDREN? The children they had said they would find loving homes for. They were using children to make monsters. And Harley Sawyer, your love, was at the front of it all.

To say the reader broke down would be an understatement. You had loved a monster all this time. You felt disgusted with yourself. With your job. With your feelings, your heart, everything. But, you still loved this man. So, you kept it down. But in the back of your mind, there was a voice saying you shouldn't love this man.

This voice made you become resentful. When he finally asked you out, you let everything out. You insulted him, called him a monster, and said you'd never date someone like him. This made him very angry. How DARE you reject him. You were HIS! HIS AND NOBODY ELSE'S! And you and Harley grew apart. Argument after argument. To be honest, he both hated and liked your new "feisty personality". Others saw you as a danger for how outspoken against the experiments you had become. Whispered threats were thrown around in the background. But Sawyer insisted that your knowledge was important. And it brought you some fear that Sawyer was the only reason you weren't ending up as food for an experiment or dead at the hands of a researcher or task force. I mean, he couldn't let the only one he loved die now, could he? He had to come up with another plan, before the others took matters into their own hands.

Meanwhile, you had your own plan. To save the orphans. To out Playtime Co as the monsters they truly were. But you were too late. As you went to leave the lab, to quit your job, to enact the first phase of your plan, Sawyer grabbed you and held you back, taunting you with "squirm all you want germ" and "you would be lucky to be with SOMEONE like me". He knocked you out, and made you into one of his experiments.

He made you into an animatronic version of yourself. To capture your beauty for all eternity. When you awoke, all you could feel was anger, and, in the back of your mind, heartbreak.

After the Day of Joy, you had made it your mission to find Harley and eliminate him. And you killed or hurt anyone else who stood in between you and him. You had become what you had sworn to destroy. A monster, fueled by anger, rage, and hatred.

Then came the day you finally made your way to him.

Needless to say.... you didn't stand a chance.

And as you laid dying in his robotic arms, you didn't feel....anger. You didn't feel the disgust at the actions of what he had done. You felt....regret. Guilt. A pang in your heart that you had only felt when you had started working at Playtime Co. alongside Dr.Sawyer.

And for the first time in a long time, you looked at Sawyer with something more than disgust and anger. You stared at him with love. As the light faded from your eyes, you reached for his cheek...well, the side of his TV, and smiled, your animatronic eyes betraying your current state; your eyes depicted peace and love. You watched as his eye slowly turned fearful. He gripped your animatronic form tighter, holding onto something so fragile. You fell limp, taking your final breath in his arms. And he held tighter.

The look of horror in his eye when you reacted with love instead of rage and fear for the first time in many years could not be described. He felt...sadness. Regret. Grief. For the first time in his life.

He sat there in shock for the longest time.

And then....willpower, longing, a strong desire, overtook his mind.

No. NO. He has to find a way to bring you. He has to bring you back. He HAS TO. He will bring you back. He WILL bring you back. He WILL find a way.

"I will bring you back."

"My dear love."

"I don't care what it will cost me."

"This isn't how I'll let it end...."

I hope this was what you were expecting! I don't really write fics, I normally write....oneshots? Headcanons? But I saw the prompt and had to go for it! I'm honestly really proud of how this turned out.

credit for divider: @nicodefresas

[parkerslatte]

Future Promises

Dae-ho x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: violence. blood and injury. murder. character death (not reader).

Summary: When a fight breaks out in the bathroom, Y/N gets caught in the middle of it. When the eliminated players are announced, Dae-ho panics.

Requested: Yes

Squid Game Masterlist

The divide in the room was clear. Each side equal in terms of numbers yet Y/N could feel the murderous gazes from the ‘O’ side of the room. While others around her talked to one another, trying to ease some of the tension, Y/N sat on her own. She wasn’t too far away from the rest of the group but she was far enough away to be able to breathe. 

For the entire duration of her time in the games, she didn’t have a single change to calm her body down. Even when she slept she was always on high alert. Taking a step away from everyone was what was best for her right now– especially when she needed to prepare to defend herself if it came to that. Y/N didn’t miss the way each player had received a glass bottle and a metal fork with their meal when they hadn’t before. Her fork was securely concealed in her jacket. 

Y/N rested her head on the cool tile wall and sighed. The room seemed much larger now compared to when she had woken up only days ago– though to her it seemed like weeks. There were only one hundred players left out of four hundred and fifty six and somehow Y/N was one of them. Though she might not have been if it wasn’t for one particular person. 

Kang Dae-ho was someone Y/N never thought she would see in these games. They weren’t exactly friends before the games, only worked at the same part-time job. But seeing him was like a breath of fresh air. If it wasn’t for him, Y/N was sure that she would have been killed during the mingle game. The whole time, he had kept her hand firmly clasped in his. When the final round called for two players, he didn’t hesitate to pull her along to a room, pushing her in first before himself. The fear Y/N had felt during that game– if Dae-ho hadn’t been by her side she would have froze up and never left that rotating platform. 

“Y/N,” a familiar voice called to her before she felt the warm and comforting presence sitting beside her. “What are you doing over here on your own?”

Y/N opened her eyes, not realising she had closed them. “I needed to step away for a bit.”

Dae-ho’s thigh pressed against hers. “Tell me next time. I didn’t know where you went.”

Y/N turned to him and offered him a small tight lipped smile. “I’m okay.”

Dae-ho didn’t return her smile, already knowing that it wasn’t genuine. From where his hands were resting in his lap, Y/N watched as they twitched– hesitantly decided if they should reach out to her. Taking the initiative, Y/N held her hand out. A small flash of surprise appeared on Dae-ho’s face before he gently held her hand in his, linking their fingers together. 

The corner of Y/N’s lips tugged up in a smile as she rested her head against the cool tile wall. “I don’t think I’ve told you but I’m glad you’re here. Well, not here exactly– but here with me. Seeing someone I recognised made me feel…safer. So thank you.”

Dae-ho’s gaze was fixated on their clasped hands. “Don’t thank me. Honestly seeing you here made me feel safer even though I hate that you are trapped here too.”

“We both made a stupid choice by phoning that number,” Y/N said. “When we get out of here, let’s not phone any strange numbers in the future.”

A quiet laugh emitted from Dae-ho and caused Y/N to smile. “Agreed.”

A silence washed over them but it was comfortable and if Y/N closed her eyes, she could pretend that they were in the break room at their shitty job. Instead of bidding goodbye at the end of the day like she usually did, she would take the risk and ask him for dinner. Finally doing what her friend had demanded of her when she first started the job and asking her attractive coworker out.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Y/N said, standing to her feet, her hand slipping out of Dae-ho’s. 

“I’ll go with you,” Dae-ho offered, quickly standing with her. 

“To the women’s bathroom?” Y/N asked, a soft chuckle leaving her lips. 

For a short moment, Dae-ho seemed embarrassed but it quickly seemed to fade. “I’ll keep watch outside.”

A small genuine smile tugged at her lips as she rested her hands on his biceps. “I’ll be fine. You don’t need to protect me, you’ve done that enough already.”

“I’m sorry,” a woman a little older than Y/N said. Y/N glanced at the woman’s number. Player 91. “I overheard you going to the bathroom. We could go together, safety in numbers. I noticed some other women go there not too long ago.”

Y/N turned her attention back to Dae-ho. “See, I’ll be fine.”

There seemed to be nothing that could convince Dae-ho but the moment she leant up and pressed a soft kiss against his cheek all rational thoughts swimming through his mind seemed to evaporate. Y/N laughed and gently trailed her hands down his arms to his hands, offering him a comforting squeeze. “I’ll be fine.”

Slowly, Dae-ho nodded. “Be safe.”

As she took a step back from Dae-ho, he held onto her hands until she was too far to comfortably hold onto them. Y/N allowed her hands to slip from his but the moment his warmth fell away, she craved it once more. Y/N pushed her hands into the pockets of her jacket and offered Dae-ho one final parting smile before following the woman to the bathroom. 

***

Y/N watched as the water dripped from her chin back into the sink as she sighed. She could only hope that not everyone was bright enough to realise they could freely harm anyone that opposes their vote and in the morning they would be able to vote and return home. 

“So you voted to return home?” a woman said, approaching Y/N. 

Y/N didn’t bother to look at the woman as she answered. “Clearly, and anyone with a few brain cells would realise that is the best option for everyone here.”

The woman hummed. “Didn’t you vote to continue the games during the first vote?”

“I did,” Y/N answered. “It was a selfish decision and I regret it.”

“What changed your mind?” the woman questioned. 

“After nearly dying during the second game, I realised that risking my life for money isn’t worth it,” Y/N said, her grip tightening on the skin as Dae-ho’s face flushed in her mind. 

During the six-legged pentathlon, their small group of five was already decided until Jun-hee came along asking to join their team. The moment she found out the younger girl was pregnant, Y/N didn’t hesitate to join another team. 

Dae-ho insisted that he should be the one who left but Y/N refused and found another team, she was one of the first to complete it with one second to spare. For hours she had sat on her bed watching the door waiting for Dae-ho to enter, her anxiety rising when he never entered. When he finally did, Y/N’s heart rate still refused to drop. From then she realised that no matter how much money she would get if she continued to play, it wasn’t worth nearly losing Dae-ho and the other friends she had made. But just the thought of losing Dae-ho sent Y/N into a panic she didn’t see coming. 

“So those who died during those games didn’t matter to you? Only your life matters?” the woman said, continuing to pester Y/N. 

Finally Y/N turned and faced the woman. “Realistically those people would have died anyway. If I wasn’t in these games then nothing would change, someone else would be here in my place and everything would turn out exactly the same.” Y/N glanced at the blue patch on the woman’s jacket. “Seems like you don’t seem to care if people die or not considering you are too fucking selfish and you want more money.”

“Careful how you speak to me,” the woman said. “Once all of you who voted to leave are gone, us who voted to stay will each have over 800 million won each.” Slowly, the woman raised her hand, a silver fork shining in the dim lighting. The fork was pressed  against Y/N’s neck as she looked at the woman standing before her. Despite the situation, Y/N didn’t feel intimidated by the women at all, she was shorter and  was physically weaker than Y/N. 

“I’m only going to say this once,” the woman said, lowering her voice. “Change your vote, continue the games. If you do, I will make sure you get through to the end and get your share of the money.”

No matter how hard she tried, Y/N failed to contain the laughter that slipped past her lips. “I’d believe it if you weren’t threatening me right now. How am I meant to believe you won’t backstab me in the next game?”

The fork was pressed deeper against her neck and Y/N winced. “You need to trust me,” the woman said. 

“Trust a woman who is one movement away from plunging a damn fork into my neck? I think I’ll naively believe that someone will come to their senses and change their vote by morning,” Y/N replied. “Now take that fork away from my neck.”

“Or what?” the woman asked, an unhinged smile spreading across her face. 

“The group that voted to stay are currently outnumbered in this bathroom, five to nine. If you fight, you’ll be overpowered,” Y/N answered as the two other women who voted to stay slowly walked up to join the quiet altercation. 

“You’ll never win,” the woman said, the fork leaving Y/N’s neck. “We may be outnumbered but you have more elders on yours, one punch to the head and they’ll be out cold.”

As Y/N glanced around at the other women in the bathroom, she noticed that most of them were older and looked as if they could not handle themselves in a fight. Y/N sighed. “Do you really care about getting a bit of extra money? If we vote to leave now we still each get a large amount of money. What if you die in the next game? Your last thoughts will be ‘why didn’t I leave when I had the chance?’”

“You don’t know a thing about me!” the woman exclaimed. 

Y/N rolled her eyes and turned back to the sink. “I know that you’re an idiot if you chose to stay in this hellhole.”

The woman didn’t respond verbally. Instead she gripped the back of Y/N’s jacket, yanking her away from the sink. As Y/N stumbled on her feet, the woman sent a punch to her jaw, knocking off her balance completely. 

The moment Y/N’s back hit the floor, hell broke loose as people began fighting one another. It was just as the woman said, there were a lot more women who were physically weaker on Y/N’s side. Almost immediately Y/N watched as a few of them had already hit the floor, a pool of blood forming below them. Y/N didn’t take long to get back to her feet. Y/N wasn’t a particular skilled fighter, she had learnt basic self defense and had never had a reason to use it. Just as Y/N thought, the woman was physically weaker than Y/N as she easily overpowered the woman, gripping tightly onto her hair. 

“Just vote to leave!” Y/N yelled. “How stupid can fifty people be?”

The woman struggled to get out of Y/N’s grip. “I’ll vote to leave when all of you are dead!” she snapped. 

Y/N held tightly onto the woman’s hair as she threw her down on the floor. Before Y/N could think, she grabbed the fork concealed in her pocket and jammed it into the woman’s shoulder. The woman’s eyes widened as she cried out in pain. Y/N yanked the fork out and stood to her feet. There were still others fighting around her yet all she could do was stare down at the woman on the floor. Y/N hadn’t killed her, only injured her, yet she still felt the guilt of that weigh heavily on her shoulders. 

Before Y/N could even think about moving there was a force that sent her to the ground and she scrambled to get away before a force was pressed upon her body and she was harshly turned on her back. A more muscular woman sent a punch to her face before Y/N even had the chance to block it. With her vision blurry, Y/N failed to see the fork slamming down at full force towards her. 

***

Dae-ho sat looking in the direction where Y/N had left with the other woman to go to the bathroom anxiously shaking his leg. There was something clawing inside of him that told him that something bad was going to happen. Of course he had noticed the forks everyone had been given and Gi-hun had only solidified Dae-ho’s beliefs that it wasn’t unintentional. 

Y/N had been gone for a while and it took Jung-bae forcing Dae-ho to remain seated instead of storming after her. 

“I never asked,” Jung-bae spoke, noticing that Dae-ho became considerably more anxious, “how do you know Y/N?”

“We work together,” Dae-ho answered, not tearing his eyes from where she had disappeared. “It’s a shitty part time job but that's all that would hire me. I don’t know why she is still there– she has so much potential.”

Jung-bae hummed. “It seems as if you admire Y/N a lot.”

“I do,” Dae-ho said with no hesitation. “Before now, we only ever spoke at work, but she was always so nice and friendly to me. I watched her interact with customers too and she always greets them with a smile and tries to make them smile. Afterwards I would always find her in the break room exhausted but she would always sit and talk to me if I was on my break. Once she shared that she wished to become an artist but her parents told her that it wasn’t a sustainable career so she gave up.”

“It sounds like a lot more than admiration you have for her,” Jung-bae teased. 

Dae-ho quickly shook his head. “No, it's not anything like what you’re thinking of.”

“How about I ask Y/N when she comes back?” Jung-bae suggested. 

“No!” Dae-ho exclaimed, causing Jung-bae to laugh. Dae-ho sighed. “Okay, maybe it is like that.”

“The following players have been eliminated,” the cheerful voice sounded throughout the room. 

Dae-ho’s heart instantly dropped to the floor as he looked at Jung-bae, fear coursing through his veins. 

“Player 201. Player 449. Player 091–”

“That’s the player who went with Y/N,” Dae-ho said, fear evident in his tone. 

The players entered the room one by one and Dae-ho’s heart rate increased. From the looks of things, it wasn’t only the women who had gotten into a fight in the bathroom as the men walked out too, blood covering each and every one of them. The cheerful voice continued to list the numbers of the players who had been eliminated and Dae-ho’s fear rose after each and every one. He should have somehow gone with her to make sure that she was okay. 

The voice stopped listing off the eliminated players just as Y/N stepped into the room, the guard closing the door behind her. Blood covered her neck and stained her jacket. Smeared blood covered her hands too as she slowly stepped further into the room shaken up. 

“Count your players!” 

The room immediately broke into chaos as each side counted their players and how many each side lost. Dae-ho didn’t care as he ran over to Y/N. 

“Are you okay? What happened?” He asked, looking at the injury on her neck. 

“They attacked us,” Y/N muttered. “I didn’t want to hurt them but I did.”

Slowly, Dae-ho reached forward until he held his hands in front of hers. Without thought, she held onto them tightly as if grounding herself. 

“They attacked you first, you were only defending yourself,” Dae-ho reassured. 

Y/N slowly looked up at him. “I know but–”

“But nothing,” Dae-ho said, slowly pulling Y/N closer to where the rest of the group were standing.

Y/N nodded, squeezing his hands once more. “Can we sit down somewhere?”

Dae-ho gently guided her over to where Gi-hun and the others were sitting as someone counted how many of the whole group there was. Dae-ho gestured for Y/N to sit down first before he sat down next to her, his arm wrapping protectively around her waist, her body leaning closer to him. 

“What happened to your neck?” Dae-ho questioned looking at the long scratches down the back of her neck that ventured under her collar. 

“It happened just before the guards came in to break up the fight,” Y/N muttered, her hand seeking out Dae-ho’s. “If they didn’t come in that second, I’m sure that woman would have finished me off.”

Dae-ho noticed the distant look in her eyes and squeezed her hand to snap her out of it. “Hey, I know it’s hard but try not to think about that right now.”

“What else is there to think about?” Y/N replied, her voice sounding exhausted. 

Dae-ho shrugged, his thumb gliding across her knuckles. “Our job?”

“I nearly died and your response is to talk about our shitty job?” Y/N said. 

“You’re talking about it though,” Dae-ho muttered. “And I was going to ask you, what will you do when you get out of here? You can’t stay in that job for the rest of your life.”

“Pay off my debts,” Y/N answered. “After that, I honestly don’t know.”

“You wanted to become an artist, why don’t you start there?” Dae-ho suggested. 

Y/N looked at him, disbelief clear in her eyes. “You remember that conversation?”

“Of course,” Dae-ho replied. Y/N looked at him– really looked at him. The look immediately made Dae-ho heat up under his collar. 

“I didn’t think anyone really listened when I talked about what I am passionate about,” Y/N admitted. 

“I listened,” Dae-ho replied. 

“Why have we never spoken outside of work?” Y/N asked.

“Probably because we both hate our job and pretend that it doesn’t exist once our shift is over,” Dae-ho replied. 

A soft huff of laughter left Y/N and Dae-ho couldn’t stop the way his heart lifted at the sound. 

“That is true,” she said. “How about when we get out of here, we change that? This definitely isn’t the place or time to say this, but I have liked spending time with you and you have honestly saved me so many times and made this whole thing even the slightest bit bearable. So when we get out of here, why don’t we go for dinner? I’ll pay, it’s the least I can do.”

A wide grin formed on Dae-ho’s face as he nodded. “That would be nice.”

Y/N gave him a smile in return before she rested her head on his shoulder, relaxing her body into his side. The gentle grip he had on her waist tightened as he pulled her closer to his body. While Gi-hun spoke to the group in a hushed tone, Dae-ho only remained half listening as he held onto Y/N. A new sense of survival overcame him– he would get him and Y/N out no matter what. 

[ssa-danhotchner]

Ghostin | Aaron Hotchner

summary: after Foyet, Aaron retreats into his grief, pushing reader away despite their unwavering love

cw: fem reader, BAU reader, angst, mention of Haley's death, mention of Aaron being stabbed, grief, relationship breakdown

wc: 1.6k

note: english isn't my first language!

Their relationship began quietly, built on small moments over time. It wasn’t love at first sight, but rather a slow connection formed between late nights at the BAU, working together on cases, and trading small smiles. You’d been colleagues before, but as time passed, there was a subtle shift. He admired your calmness and intelligence, and you saw a depth in him that most people didn’t.

It was in the little things: the way he’d offer you coffee when you were too tired to ask, or the small gestures of care when he’d notice you needed something. You started sharing dinners at quiet places, and those dinners turned into evenings where you’d linger in each other’s company, the space between you no longer just professional.

It was simple, but it was real.

When you kissed him for the first time, it was everything and nothing at once. It was electric, but not in the way of passionate, rushed moments. No, it was a slow realization that everything before had led to this. That kiss was just the beginning of a journey, the start of a love that felt like it could withstand anything. The way he cupped your face, the way you both melted into the kiss as if the world outside didn’t matter—it was all-consuming. When he pulled away, his breath shallow, his face flushed with something unspoken, you knew. He knew, too. This was it.

Aaron was never the kind of man to offer grand declarations of love. He wasn’t the type for sweeping gestures or unnecessary words. But he showed it in every touch, in every moment he chose to stand by you. And you? You showed him with patience, understanding, and unwavering support. It was a partnership, and it was beautiful.

For a while, nothing else seemed to matter. The job, the chaos, the violence—it all faded away when you were together. It was a love that made him feel like he wasn’t alone. A love that made him believe that maybe, just maybe, he could be happy again.

But the world has a way of changing everything, doesn’t it?

And then came him.

George Foyet tore into Aaron’s life like a storm, leaving devastation in his wake. You sat in the hospital by his bedside after the stabbing, your fingers wrapped around his bruised hand, whispering reassurances as he drifted in and out of consciousness. You were there when he woke up, gasping in pain, eyes unfocused until they landed on you.

You kissed his temple and murmured, “You’re safe.”

He nodded weakly, but you could tell—he didn’t believe it.

The worst part wasn’t the pain from his wounds—it was what came after.

When Haley and Jack were placed in witness protection, you saw the shift in him. The guilt, the helplessness. He would wake up at night, sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. You would reach for him, pressing your hand against his back, feeling the tension beneath his skin.

“I should be with them,” he whispered one night.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “You’re doing everything you can, Aaron.”

He shook his head. “It’s not enough.”

You wanted to tell him he was enough. That he deserved happiness, too. But how could you, when you saw the way his eyes darkened with grief? When you heard the cracks in his voice every time he spoke of his son?

Still, you stayed. You loved him through it all, even when his heart wasn’t fully yours anymore.

“I don’t want to keep you waiting, but I do just what I have to do.”

Then Foyet killed Haley.

And whatever part of Aaron you still had—was gone.

You were there when he crumbled, when his entire world collapsed under the weight of grief. You held him as he broke, as his sobs wrecked through him in the middle of the night, as he whispered Haley’s name over and over again like a prayer.

But then, slowly, he started pushing you away.

First, it was the late nights at the office. Then, the missed calls. The distance in his touch, the way his lips barely lingered when he kissed you goodbye.

And then, one night, he said it.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

The words hang in the air, so heavy, they feel like a physical blow. Your heart stutters in your chest, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. You blink at him, as if you didn’t hear him correctly, hoping the words were a mistake, a slip of the tongue, something to be fixed with a conversation.

But his eyes… his eyes are a distant storm, glazed over with grief that’s not entirely yours to touch. There’s no warmth in them now, no flicker of the man you knew. Just cold, an emptiness that swallows everything in its path.

“Aaron…” Your voice trembles, soft and barely there. You take a hesitant step toward him, a desperate attempt to bridge the gap that feels miles wide. “What are you saying?”

He takes a step back, his posture stiff and guarded. The air between you thickens, charged with the weight of everything unsaid. He closes his eyes for a moment, running a hand through his hair in frustration, then exhales sharply. When he opens them again, you see something break in him—a fracture deep enough that it feels like you’re witnessing his soul crack.

“I can’t… I can’t be the man you need me to be,” he says, his voice low, like each word is a struggle to get out. “I’m not… I’m not whole. I’m not enough for you.”

You don’t understand. You can’t. Your mind races, desperately trying to piece together the fragments of his words, but all you hear is the finality in them.

“No, Aaron,” you whisper, your voice shaking. “You’re enough. You’ve always been enough.”

His gaze flickers, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. It’s like he’s afraid to. It’s like he’s already made up his mind, and there’s no way you can change it.

“You don’t understand,” he murmurs, the words edged with something darker, something you can’t touch. “I’m haunted… by her. By all of it.”

Your heart stings at the mention of Haley. Of course, you know he’s haunted by her, by what happened to her, but there’s something so much deeper, something in his tone that makes it clear this is about more than just his grief. It’s like the love you had, the one you shared so many months and years building, has been eaten away by the remnants of his past.

“Aaron, please… Please don’t shut me out,” you say, your voice breaking. “I’m here. I’ve always been here.”

He glances at you then, and for a brief moment, you catch a glimpse of the man you fell in love with—strong, devoted, vulnerable in ways only you could see. But just as quickly, that flicker vanishes, hidden behind a wall he’s built so high you can’t reach it.

“I’m not the same man you fell in love with,” he says, his words cutting through you like glass. “I’m… broken. And I’ll never be whole again.”

“No.” You take another step toward him, reaching out, but his eyes harden, and he steps back once more, as if your touch burns him. “Please don’t do this, Aaron. You don’t have to go through this alone. You don’t have to push me away.”

He shakes his head, a bitter smile curving his lips—not one of humor, but one of sadness. “I’m not pushing you away,” he says softly, but the words don’t match his actions. “I’m letting you go. Because you deserve more than the shattered man I am. You deserve someone who can be fully there for you. Someone who can love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

The sting in your chest feels like it’s spreading, like your heart is fracturing into pieces, too. You want to scream at him, to beg him to see you, to understand that you’re willing to take all of him—the broken pieces, the ghosts, the pain. But you can’t. You know, deep down, that this isn’t just about you. This is about him, about the war inside him that you’ll never be able to fight for him.

“I love you,” you say, barely above a whisper, but your words crack with all the emotion you’ve been holding in. You want to scream it, shout it, let him know that you would do anything to stay by his side, to help him heal. But all that comes out is a sob, a broken plea. “I love you so much, Aaron. Don’t do this.”

He closes his eyes, his jaw clenched tight, fighting against whatever pain it is that he’s carrying. You can see the tears threatening to spill, but he doesn’t let them fall. Instead, he takes a deep breath and turns away from you.

“I can’t keep pretending. Not when every time I look at you, I see… her. Not when every time I close my eyes, I hear her voice.” His voice cracks as the words spill out, a raw vulnerability in them that makes your heart ache for him in ways you didn’t think were possible. “You deserve someone who’s whole. Someone who can love you without being broken. I’m not that man anymore.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

He steps toward the door, his back to you, and for a moment, you just stand there—frozen, as if if you move, it’ll be the end of everything. You feel as if you’re about to fall into an abyss that you can’t climb out of.

“Aaron… please,” you whisper, but he doesn’t turn around.

The door shuts behind him with a finality that echoes through your chest. And you’re left standing there, completely empty, as if your world was just torn apart.

You don’t even realice that you’re crying until you feel the tears burning your cheeks, hot and desperate. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t reach him. He’s gone, leaving you to pick up the pieces of a heart he once held, but now has abandoned.

The man you loved is no longer the man standing in front of you. And you can’t help but wonder if he ever really was.

---

[wendichester]

Can I please request a bf!Sam x reader where

At first, Dean and Sam are very worried, bc reader is gone since the morning and by now it's late afternoon and she hasn't returned yet

And when they go looking for her, they notice, hey, the GPS on the phone is on

And Sam goes to get reader, and finds her at a grave in the graveyard thats practically abandoned

And he finds out its the death anniversary of a close family member of hers, and she's been there all day to "talk" and take care of the grave

And he just comforts her on the shitty day, taking care of reader?

I have a death anniversary coming up in a few days of someone from my family I was close with, and it'd mean a lot if you could write this as a bit of comfort <3

𐙚⋆˙˚◞♡ where you are,

summary. sam finds you where you always go on this day—grief lingering, him standing by your side.

pairing. sam winchester x reader

wordcount. 424

warnings. dealing with grief and being alone ; angsty

notes. apologies if this one is coming a little too late. i honestly didn't notice it between the other requests. hope this brings you a little bit of comfort (despite late) and know my dms are open if you need 🤍

Sam’s heart is pounding as he follows the GPS, boots crunching against dry leaves as he moves through the graveyard. The place is nearly abandoned, the air thick with late afternoon stillness, and he finally spots you, sitting cross-legged in front of a weathered headstone.

His breath leaves him in a rush.

You’re okay. You’re here.

He slows as he approaches, not wanting to startle you. He sees the small bouquet of flowers beside the grave, the way your fingers absently trace the carved name. He watches the rise and fall of your shoulders, the weight you’re carrying alone.

"You weren’t answering your phone," he says softly, finally breaking the silence.

You flinch, head snapping up, but when you see him, some of the tension in your body eases. “Oh.” Your voice is small, almost sheepish. “I—I didn’t think to check it.”

Sam exhales, closing the distance, crouching beside you. "Dean and I were worried. You were gone all day." His voice is gentle, no anger, just concern.

You nod, looking back at the grave. “I just… I had to come. It’s their death anniversary.”

Understanding washes over him in an instant. He doesn’t ask why you didn’t tell him, doesn’t push. Instead, he reaches out, his warm hand covering yours where it rests against the cold stone.

"I should’ve told you," you admit quietly. "I just—I didn’t want to make a big deal about it."

Sam frowns. “You being here all day, alone? That’s a big deal." His thumb strokes over your knuckles. "You don’t have to do this by yourself.”

Your throat tightens. "I just… I wanted to talk to them. Take care of the grave, make sure it’s not forgotten." You sniff, looking down. “It feels like if I stop coming, no one else will.”

Sam swallows hard. He understands that feeling too well. He shifts, settling beside you, one arm sliding around your shoulders, pulling you against his chest.

“They’re not forgotten,” he murmurs against your hair. “Not as long as you remember them.”

You let out a shaky breath, curling into his warmth, letting the exhaustion of the day press into him. He holds you tighter, rubbing slow, soothing circles against your back.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

"Don't be." He presses a soft kiss to your temple. "Just… next time, let me be here with you, okay?”

You nod against him. “Okay.”

For a while, you just sit there, wrapped in his arms, letting the world go quiet.

And for the first time today, you don’t feel so alone.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @mrs-pondwater19 ⋆ @myceliumsunshine ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Vegeta with fem!reader fluffy headcanons

warnings: fem!reader, established relationship, canon divergence.

Special thanks to @actuallysaiyan for not only encouraging me to write this piece but also providing feedback on the earlier drafts. Enjoy~! :3

divider by @cafekitsune

Vegeta is not the type of person who will proudly proclaim in front of everyone that he loves you. He’s a Saiyan of few words, but his actions? They speak the truth. And his actions definitely show he cares for your wellbeing when he defends your honor. He’s more likely to do that than anything else remotely romantic.

Go easy on this emotionally constipated man, okay? He might not be as expressive as Goku or the other Z Fighters, but he is trying. He lived most of his adolescent and adulthood as a planet pirate under Frieza’s thumb, where any emotion other than obedience was a weakness until he came to Earth and met you.

As much as he is still learning about Earthling customs, it would make his ego swell like a balloon if you asked him about Planet Vegeta and their customs. He could spend hours telling tales of the distant past, such as the roles of a mated pair in the household and how they raised their young. Going off the planet for a mission for the first time? That was a rite of passage. How do Saiyans show affection? Through their tails, hence why losing it is equivalent to mutilation or severe punishment of the worst kind of crime committed by a Saiyan. Other Saiyans could even see as a betrayal.

Vegeta is not proud of the things he has done in the past. But if some higher being offered him the chance to change everything, he probably wouldn’t take it. Not just because he still believes he doesn’t deserve such an opportunity, but erasing the wrongs he committed in the name of Freiza would undoubtedly remove the possibility of ever meeting you through Bulma. He would not have the life he has now, and he will be damned to allow anyone else who was unworthy of being your mate when the Prince of All Saiyans is right here.

The urge to fight runs through his veins, but that doesn’t mean Vegeta wants to be engaged in combat all the time. Believe it or not, the Saiyan would actually like to enjoy some domesticity with you. Whether it’s shopping in the city or just doing your own thing in the same space, he will enjoy it to the fullest. If Goku comes to bug him every day to train when the two of you decide to move to the countryside for work or preference? The chances of Vegeta getting really annoyed with the clown interfering on his quality time with you are pretty high unless it’s an absolute necessary to prevent the destruction of the universe.

You want to train and become stronger? Get ready because Vegeta will not go easy on you at all. Self-defense lessons? Oh, you can definitely be sure that he is going to at least teach a few moves so you can protect yourself when he isn’t around.

Saiyans are hard-wired to be attracted to strong-willed women, so challenging Vegeta mentally or physically will definitely get his blood thrumming in excitement.

He might act annoyed or irritated when you show him affection, but don’t let it bother you too much; Vegeta craves to be loved just like everyone else, even when there are days where he feels like he isn’t worthy of you. As mentioned previously, he’s emotionally inept. But if you show him genuine affection, respect, and honesty, that he deserves to have some good in his life? You will have a loyal, reliable, and incredibly protective Saiyan standing by your side until death comes for either of you.

He may not look like it, but Vegeta remembers the important things you tell him, like certain events coming up or be aware that you might have to work late on certain days of the week.

Regardless of his experience on the battlefield as a fighter and tactician, this man cannot navigate his way through a kitchen, so please do not let him go near the stove unless he’s being supervised, or your home will go up in flames. Seriously, just don’t.

Taglist: @uninhabitedsworld-18 @strangepoppy @nasty-redrum @iimidnightx3 @zvmbieb0y @bdudette @boonsmoon @mythoswarrior-23 @jadeprouductions

[miniwheat77]

Secret Weapon. (Ghost x Reader.)

!nsfw, smut, unprotected p in v sex, violence, war, blood, NO MINORS! This was a request that’s been sitting in my inbox a while :)

This is not edited.

“Captain.. what the fuck do we do?” Gaz pants out. His back is pressed firmly against the wall.

John thinks for a moment. What does he do?

Nikolai is unavailable. But he’s got an idea.

He lifts up his radio, turning it to a channel he hasn’t been on in years.

“Viper 1-1 page back.” He calls into the radio.

“Viper 1-1, copy.”

“We’re trapped on a rooftop.” Captain Price recites your coordinates. He had heard in passing that the pilot was nearby on another mission.

“Thirty-five out, we’re on the way.”

He sighs.

“Thank god.” He mumbles. The four are stuck on the rooftop. No where to go and hardly any ammo.

“We’re?” Gaz asks. They remember who the pilot is.

They fight all they can, all hope is about to be lost when the loud rumble of the helicopter comes.

The buzzing sound makes them perk up, seeing the flashback from the gun inside. They can’t see the person holding it.

Captain Price watches with a smile. The helicopter stays airborne until there is no one moving on the ground. They watch it land a couple hundred feet away, seeing two people get out of it. Clearing buildings as they make their way to the four.

The door finally opens, the four standing up. They’d been using the brick walls as cover.

You’re the first to step into their view, but you’ve got a ski mask on.

You grasp the hem of it, pulling it over your head.

You smile.

“Long time no see, Captain.” You nod.

“Shit. I could tell by how good the shots were that it was you.” He laughs. Pulling you in for a hug, hugging the pilot next.

The others watch, stunned.

“Oh uh… boys. This is Y/N.” He nods.

“My secret weapon.”

They take the time to shake your hand, introducing themselves to you.

But Ghost is completely taken off guard by you.

The way your hair falls after you take the mask, the fact that he didn’t expect to see a girl, let alone one was pretty as you.

What the hell?

You’d just saved his life. He was all out of ammo holed up in one building, if you hadn’t come? He wouldn’t even be alive to tell the tale.

It was the start of something Ghost never saw coming. Not in a million years.

———

It took a lot of convincing for you to join the task force.

Since you had made friends with the men, they bothered you to no limit to join. They liked you. You were skilled. They wanted you around all of the time.

When you eventually joined, Ghost spiraled completely out of control.

He avoided you like the plague because he knew what was coming and he was scared. He started drinking more, hiding in his room more. Socializing less and everyone noticed.

But only Johnny had caught on as to why.

He was falling in love with you, and he knew it.

He was falling and he was falling hard and he knew the only end to that free fall is the hard concrete when he lands. Ghost didn’t love. He didn’t because there was only heartbreak and hurt.

The first time it happened, he didn’t mean to.

You were doing your laundry, passing by his room with a basket when they fell out. He waited a while for you to come back for them but you never did so he swiped them.

A pair of panties.

Ghost was in too deep and he knew it.

Fisting his cock to the thought of you, face buried in your panties. He hated himself for what he’d become and he hated you for what you’d done to him. You’d made him a fool and he’d only spoken to you in passing.

He didn’t know what to do, so he did the only thing he could think of.

Kill.

On missions he was ruthless.

He didn’t know anything other than violence and pain. So he pushed himself to no limit. Working hard, staying up late. Taking extra watch and beating himself up mentally day and night about how weak he’d become all because of a woman.

He spent hours and hours training and working out. He’d lost count the days he’d spent in the shooting range and his death toll jumped by hundreds and grew more and more with each mission he went out on. Ghost was smart and skilled. He understood everything but the only thing he couldn’t figure out was you.

Finally, Johnny cornered him.

Ghost was walking to his room, Johnny was hot on his tail, asking how he was doing.

“Fine Johnny. Leave it be.” He mumbles, he goes to close his door but Soap doesn’t let him have it. Catching it with his boot and walking in, closing the door behind himself. “There’s something wrong with you, you’ve got the entire bloody task force worried sick about ya so you better start talkin.” He growls.

Ghost raises his eyebrows. Johnny had never spoken to him like that before.

“‘Scuse me?”

“You heard what I said, Ghost.”

He crosses his arms and Soap doesn’t let feel intimidated by him, of course he does. But Ghost is his friend. He cares about him.

“Full offense Johnny, piss off. We’re not teenage girls and I don’t intend on sharing my feelings with you so I think you should leave.”

He shakes his head. “I’ll set up camp until you’re ready to talk about it.” He stands his ground. Ghost sighs. “I don’t know how to talk about it Johnny. I don’t even know what’s wrong myself.”

“That’s a start, LT. The hell has gotten into you? You’re like a machine. Wake up, eat, kill, sleep.”

Ghost sighs.

“That girl.”

Realization hits Soap like a ton of bricks.

“I just..” he sighs. Sitting down on his bed. “I don’t know.”

“You have feelings for her?” Soap asks.

“I’d say I have more than just feelings for her, Johnny.” Ghost wipes his face through his mask. “Shit LT.”

“No kidding.”

“Well you won’t get the girl by being so reclusive sir.”

“My plan isn’t to get the girl Johnny, life is painful enough as is!” He groans.

“Yeah, well life is too short to worry about what hurts and let what you’ll enjoy pass you. So get out there and try. Christ in heaven you’re a brick wall.” He groans.

Ghost sighs. Johnny is right.

“Whatever Johnny, I have a lot to think about so.. kindly. Go to bed.”

“Fine. But we’re not done about this and you know it.” Soap rolls his eyes, leaving through the door. He can’t believe it. Ghost was in love with you.

———

“Ghost page back.” Captain mumbles into the radio.

“Copy.”

“Soap is feeling ill. You mind taking over his 0100 patrol?”

“Not at all sir.”

Ghost finishes up what he’s doing and prepares for the patrol.

Since they’re out of the states and in enemy territory they have patrol often.

“Great, you’ll be with Y/N.”

Ghost freezes in his spot.

“Johnny page back.”

“Copy.”

“I see you in person, you’re a dead man MacTavish.”

“Already in for the night sir, door’s locked. See you tomorrow.”

Ghost can’t see it but the scot snickers to himself inside his room. Feeling very well actually.

Ghost meets up with you just before your patrol together and wants to crawl into a hole and die. You were so beautiful and there was nothing he could do about it.

It’s quiet for a while. The two of you walking alongside each other. It’s pitch dark out. The only lights come from the base. “So. How long you know Price for?” He’s trying to make small talk. Something that takes you off guard. He never seemed to be this open.

“Since I started in the military actually. He was at the convention I enlisted at.” You smile. “Really? I forget how old the man is.” He laughs. “I totally did not think you were this outgoing, Ghost.” You laugh. “What do you mean?”

“You just do not seem the type for small talk.” You smile.

He chuckles. “Nah, the mask makes me unapproachable but that not intentional.”

“Than why do you wear it?”

“To hide my identity. I’ve killed a lot of people and don’t want retaliation.”

“Don’t they just know to go after the guy in the skull mask though?” You side eye him. “Yeah, but when I wear it I want to be found.”

“Good point.” You smile.

“Stop.” He throws a hand up in front of you suddenly. “Woah-“ you mumble. He looks around, every alarm in his body is going off.

“What is it?” You ask. “Something doesn’t feel right.” He mumbles. He draws out his flashlight, shining at the ground. He doesn’t see anything, not for the first few feet at least. After that is when he notices indents in the sand. Footprints.

He follows them straight up to the barbed wire fence around the base.

“Price page back.”

He waits a minute.

“Captain Price page back.”

“Copy, what is it?”

“Footprints leading up to the Southwest fence. We’ll follow them and make sure it’s not a threat but we haven’t covered the north yet.” He says it into his radio and waits.

“Garrick and I will cover it, just be safe. Page back every ten until you know it’s clear.”

“Yes sir.”

Ghost tilts his head, letting you know to follow him.

You do just that.

It takes a couple miles of walking before you spot a building in the distance, thank god for night vision.

Ghost posts up and watches for a while, not seeing any movement. The two of you approach, you go slow. You never do see any movement, the building is severely run down, the roof is in bad shape and it’s dirty. “Do you think they’re human footprints?” You ask.

He shrugs. “Hard to say with the sand. Could be an animal of some kind. Could explain the staggering of them.” He explains.

You nod your head. “Looks like everything is clear Captain, we’re going to look around a bit and than head back.”

“Got it, we’re heading for bed. Page if you need anything else Simon.”

You step inside the run down building, it was once someone’s house. Out in the middle of nowhere.

Odd.

The rooms inside seem intact, aside from being dusty, frozen in time. Plants have taken over and some of the dishes that remain are broken but the bedrooms are still completely normal. The beds are made.

You walk inside and sit down on a bed, groaning. “I don’t wanna walk back yet.” You whine. “Take a break.” He laughs. “Okay.”

He chuckles. That didn’t take much convincing.

“Can I show you something?” He asks. “Sure, what is it?”

He moves to sit next to you, grasping his mask. Your eyes widen when he pulls it straight off. “You’re showing me this why? Explain yourself?” You laugh,

“No that’s not what I wanted to show you, this is.”

He grasps your chin and goes for it.

All the money in the pot. A gamble of a lifetime.

He plants his lips straight on yours and his blood rushes through him, his heart pounding so loud it’s all he hears. He expects you to pull back. To be disgusted with him.

But you don’t. You meet him in the middle and kiss him back even harder.

He pushes you back on the dusty bed raising himself up over you, one leg resting between yours. His thigh is flush with your clothed opening. He doesn’t stop kissing you, he takes even further.

When you feel his tongue on yours, you finally pull away with a gasp.

“Ghost-“ you pant.

“Simon. Call me Simon.” He breathes. “W-why are you doing this?” You hiss as he pushes his thigh further into you. “Because I’ve waited long enough to get my fucking hands on you. I can’t take it anymore.” He groans. You hadn’t expected him to be so forward, you also didn’t expect how handsome he’d be without a mask on. How overly willing he was to expose himself to you shows you that he trust you, and obviously had more feelings for you than he let on. Ghost didn’t just act out of lust, Johnny told you that.

Now you realize why you’d had that conversation earlier in the day. Fucking scot.

He gets your vest unzipped and grasps hold of your shirt, ripping it straight down the middle. He hears you gasp. “Simon!”

“Quiet, I’ll replace it with twenty more.” He breathes.

The click of his pocket knife makes you freeze. But he’s skilled with it, moving quickly, slicing the small slit of fabric holding your bra together. He shoves the fabric off of you and cups your breasts with his hands, leaning down to take one of your nipples into his mouth while he toys with the other. Pinching it between his fingers and tugging on it. You whine out, raising your hips and rutting yourself into his thigh. Ghost is the person you talked to the very least, yet here you are. On display for him.

“God you’re a fucking minx.” He hisses. He sits up and watches you roll your hips into his thigh. Desperate for him to touch you. You realize something.

“You’re the one who’s been stealing my panties, aren’t you?” You smirk.

He visibly blushes.

“You’re a cheeky thing! I can’t believe it’s been you!” You gasp. “Shut up.” He hisses. He doesn’t like to be embarrassed, you’re lucky it’s you or he would’ve told you to get fucked by now. “Fuck, how many have you gotten away with?”

He shrugs. “Lot more than you’d expect.”

“You’re such a fucking pervert.” You laugh.

“Yeah, you’d think even worse of me if you knew what I did with them.” He growls. He shoves his face into the crook of your neck, attacking your skin with his teeth and lips. Pushing his hand down the front of your waistband. He glides his fingers over your pussy, hearing you whine.

“Now I want to know. What you did with them.”

He chuckles, it’s dark.

“The smell of you is intoxicating, darling.”

You moan out. “Fuck I shouldn’t think that’s hot but I do.” You mewl. Lips parted as he sucks at your throat. Your jugular vein is pulsing and he can’t feel it with his tongue. He rests his hand over your head. “Been waiting weeks for a taste of you, doll. Now we’re here.” He groans, kissing roughly down your center. He’s rough as he tugs your pants down your legs, barely taking the time to unbutton them. You thought maybe he’d cut those off too, not that you’d mind anyways.

He kisses further down, hearing your breathing pick up even more as he presses lower. He doesn’t start slow like you thought he would. Starting by sucking directly on your clit, making you flinch.

You hiss, jumping away from him. You hear him chuckles as he starts his assault on it.

“Poor thing, so sensitive.” He smirks.

“Shut up before I ride your face, Riley.” You hiss, pushing a hand in his hair.

“Oh no?” He smirks. You roll your eyes.

He lowers his head back down, gliding his tongue up your slip.

Like a predator toying with its prey.

Just before he devours you whole.

He doesn’t relent, no matter how much you cry or squirm. He holds you down by your thighs. He presses his tongue into your opening, rubbing your clit with his nose like a dog. He’s filthy.

You didn’t think Ghost was the type to be so dirty. When he’s got you right on the edge, crying out in pure bless. You’re about to beg him not to stop but he draws back anyways. His lips are wet in your arousal. His cheeks are flushed pink, pupils blown wide with lust.

He sits up, grasping his shirt and forcing it over his head, going for his cargo pants next.

You’re watching him in a daze. Drunk off his lips and how he’s made you feel.

“I was normal until you came along, hm. Didn’t think I could feel what I feel until you saved our asses on that rooftop. I thought I’d be okay until you pulled that damned ski mask off and showed your fuckin’ face and now I don’t think I’ll be okay again. You’ll pay for it darling.”

He moves himself over the top of you, thrusting himself straight inside you to the hilt, you’re crying out.

“You’ll pay for it by letting me have this pussy whenever I want it.” He growls.

He’s relentless. Doesn’t matter how much you fall apart or how much you cry. He doesn’t let up. He’s rough, his pace is bruising. You can’t get out a single word as he works his hips into yours, using his thumb to rub circles on your swollen clit.

You’re impossibly wet around him, clutching at the old sheets so hard your knuckles go white. He laughs. He snaps his hips into yours, feeling how wet you are around him. Moaning and whining, writhing from the pleasure he’s giving you. You’ve never felt something so intense before. Not in your life.

He forces you to roll over, gasping out at the loss of him but he doesn’t give you long. Once you’re on your stomach, he’s raising you your hips and thrusting back into you. Pushing your face roughly into the mattress and holding your hands behind your back.

“Fuckin hell Simon!” You cry.

You feel good of course, but you need him to relent. Just for a minute at least.

“So much-“ you cry. “You’re mine. Say it.” He growls. “Maybe I’ll let up.”

“I’m yours!” You sob.

“Say it again!” He growls. He grips your hands hard.

“I’m yours Simon- fuck! I’m yours!” He buries himself inside of you to the hilt, slowing his speed but not his force. He pulls you up by your arms, still holding them behind you. Your eyes widen when you realize there’s a mirror above the bed. It’s broken and dusty but that doesn’t mean you can’t see yourselves in it.

He wraps his hands around your waist, still fucking into you but he’s being gentler now. Slow.

“Say it again.” His voice is a low growl. You almost miss it.

“I’m yours.” You whine. Raising your hand to touch his cheek.

“Again.” He growls even louder. Pushing into your belly. “I- I’m yours Simon. All fucking yours.” You’re nearly chanting it.

You sob, tears spilling over your eyelids.

“Now fucking scream it.” He grits his teeth, thrusting straight up into that spongy spot deep inside of you, sending you straight into your orgasm and you nearly do just that. You’re loud when you cum, barely getting out the words “I’m yours!” As you cry and sob, lurching forward and shaking through your orgasm. He fucks you through it, clutching onto you for dear life as he moans out, reaching his own high. He thrusts as deep as he’ll go before he cums. It’s a decision he may regret but right now, he doesn’t care.

You’re whimpering as he slides out of you. Taking in oxygen like it’s limited.

He helps you until you’re lying on your back again. Soothing you. He massages your skin, bringing you back down to earth.

Simon knew better than to be so rough but he lost himself.

“Shhh.. s’okay baby. I’ve got you.” He breathes. You close your eyes, steadying your breaths.

Simon was a lot of man, he knew he was.

He draws his fingertips over your chest and arms, your eyes follow them as he lets you relax.

“You alright?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You mumble. “I wasn’t too much was I?” He smiles.

“No- not at all. Though you came on VERY strong.” You smirk.

He laughs. “That’s the only way, baby.”

He sits up. “Now come on, we’ve got to head back before they realize we’re missing.”

“Yes sir.”

[lostmyself-whenilostyou]

𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐆𝐨 𝐩𝐭 𝟐

"𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓂𝑒 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇, "𝐻𝑒𝓁𝓁𝑜, 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒷𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑒?

𝒞𝒶𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒷𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑒? 𝒞𝒶𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒷𝑒 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑒?" "

Pairing: Kang Dae Ho/388 x F! Reader

Warnings: Swearing, blood, death

Word count:1,100

You sat in your bed still, fidgeting with your hands as you heard some people talk a couple of beds away from you, discussing  what the next game could be with the man that apparently was a previous winner of this game. You looked over to their side as soon as you heard a familiar voice. As you turned to see you saw Dae Ho standing there with the small crowd of people, asking what the next game would be. From what you could overhear they said to pick the triangle shape, you didn't know what for but you'd be sure to keep that in mind just in case. You were snapped out of your thoughts as you saw Dae Ho looking back at you, you didn't even realize you were staring at him, too caught up in your thoughts to notice until you felt his gaze on you. You looked away as quickly as you could while blushing. You stayed with your head down, playing with your own hands nervously as you heard a voice beside you. You looked up, slowly opening your eyes hoping it wouldn't be Dae ho. You let out a defeated and annoyed sigh as you saw it was him, his nervous smile quickly dropping as he saw your annoyed expression. “Listen, I'm sorry. I-... The money wasn't enough for me yet…” He explained as he looked down, unable to look at you for some reason. You sighed again. “It's fine, we just met so there’s no reason why I should have trusted you anyway.” You said while looking down at your hands. “You can trust me.” He said sheepishly and you looked up at him from where you sat. “And how am I supposed to know if you’re telling the truth?” You asked with interrogation in your tone. “Well I did save your life…” He said with a slight smile. That was true. He had saved your life, but he risked it now by voting to play one more game. “Look, just stick with me? We can protect each other for one more game and then leave. Besides, I've already made friends with the previous winner, so I'm quite the catch huh?” He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. You rolled your eyes but inside you knew he was right, you still didn't trust him but it would benefit you to stick with him, and even if your mind was telling you not to trust him, you couldn't shake off that the way he chuckled, the way he looked at you, and the way he smiled slightly gave you a unknown  warm feeling that scared you slightly. But you pushed that away for now as you nodded, knowing it would benefit you to stick with him and the apparent team he made. “Fine. I’ll trust you for now.” You said hesitantly, your voice almost a whisper. “Great. Come on, I’ll introduce you to Mr.456.” He stuck out his hand for you to take. You stood up off your bed and walked past him, ignoring how the small gesture made your heart flutter. He sighed and put his hand back at his side as he walked with you, stopping in front of his now ´team´.  You looked at them nervously and smiled as Dae Ho spoke up. “This is…” He trailed off as he turned to look at you. “Sorry, earlier you never got to give me your name.” He smiled at you. You looked back at him with a neutral expression, still skeptical about him. “It's y/n.” You told him. “Ah.” He looked back at 456 and the other two men, 001 and 390. “This is miss y/n.” He told them with a smile as he placed a hand on your shoulder. You tensed slightly, but your heart skipped a beat at the small touch. 

As you now had a little group of five, the man who you later learned was named Gi-hun told the group you should take turns to sleep and keep watch in case something goes wrong in the night. Now it was your turn to watch while the others slept. You were nodding off as you suddenly felt a hand on your shoulder. You flinched, startled as you turned around and calmed down once you saw it was Dae Ho. “Shit, you scared me.” You sighed out in relief with a hand on your chest. “Sorry.” He smiled sheepishly at you as he sat down next to you. “Cant sleep?” You asked. “Nope, can't keep my eyes shut.” He sighed. “Well then.” You cleared your throat. “Your turn to watch.” You said as you stood up, but you felt his hand grab yours. Your breath hitched in your throat. “Stay? I don't like to be alone.” He mumbled out the last part as you saw a flick of vulnerability on his face, even in the dark room. You rolled your eyes slightly, not liking how his hand on yours made you feel, but sat back down next to him without saying a word. “So, Y/N, how did you end up here?”  He asked silently. “Uh, well… Same reason as everyone I guess, I’ve got debts to pay.” You shrugged. “Yeah, but there's gotta be more to you than just that.” He chuckled, “I don't really think there is.” You scoffed lightly.  “Bummer… The pretty ones are always boring..” You scoffed, “I am not boring.” You looked at him “Well then prove it.” His face moved closer to yours. “Uhh… How exactly?” You stuttered. “Well… Boring girls don’t kiss guys so maybe…” He trailed off as he leaned his face closer to yours. Your heart sped up at the closeness and you found yourself blushing and subconsciously leaning in until your lips touched his and everything else around you disappeared. The kiss was slow and passionate as one of his hands came up to cup your cheek, you let out a noise of surprise and he chuckled against your lips. You suddenly heard someone clear their throat behind you both. You gasped and instantly pulled away from Dae Ho’s lips, blushing furiously as you saw Gi Hun standing there, looking rather amused. “Just thought I’d come see if you guys were tired.” He smirked lightly “ Uh.. Well yeah I think I'm gonna go to sleep.. Uh yeah…” You stuttered over your words as you couldn't even look at either of them in the eyes. Even though you felt Dae Ho staring at you as you left  to go to bed, you did not look back, too embarrassed.

Hey guys so I got logged out but I had this already written sorry it took me so fucking long but I could not remember the password to this acc for the life of me anyway here u go another shitty Dae Ho fic🤍

Tag list: @kawakiseyes

[usagiarchive]

angel of the codeine scene — [09] over and and over again

prev / masterlist / afterword

sypnosis. [ 1.6k words. epilogue ] — The end of the suffering and the beginning of a new start.

usagi's note: HI i hope u guys read my afterword, there is so much i wanna say, but in case u guys, don't read it, i just really wanna say thanku for choosing to read this, ily guys, thanks for reading until the end <3

Rex Lapis was not indifferent.

He tries really hard to give Liyue and its people the epilogue after the war, to preserve the peace they protect, and to give his remaining yaksha the epilogue he deserves.

He tries, really.

Because he couldn't give the same to himself.

In a war where you are blessed to find love, you will be cursed to choose who to protect. Yourself? Your people? Or your lover?

There are no multiple choices, you can only choose one.

Rex Lapis had to find out the hard way.

He sends for Baizhu-yisheng and Changsheng-xiaoren again, just to make sure his warrior doesn't lose hope.

To make sure he doesn't have regrets.

To make sure he gets his own epilogue.

At sunset, they perform the ritual once again.

…

The hair on the back of Xiao's next rose once he saw the golden beacon of light once more.

He's seen this once.

Back when…

He… it… he doesn't want to hope.

The Conqueror of Demons hears his god's summons. He goes.

…

“Are you sure it's alright to do this…?” Baizhu asks as he helps clothe your…? (was it still you?) body…? into new garments.

“To do what?” Rex Lapis asks as he ties your hair up.

You- or rather what Baizhu thinks is a reincarnation of you, has been blinking sleepily for the past half hour, leaning over to Liyue’s Archon.

“To bring her back to life?”

“Hm…” The Archon thinks as he pets your head, “She's not dead, hasn't been at all,”

Baizhu's eyebrows knit together, waiting for the man to explain.

“But, the scene at Luhua Pool?”

He merely laughs, “Simply to immortalize her,” he says, “Luhua Pool is a door to a different plane of existence, it serves to preserve her memories and soul,”

Rex Lapis’ eyes stare at him and smile, “This right here is only a body, a… shell of sorts,”

Baizhu feels horrified at this but at the same time he is intrigued, with this kind of creation, would it be possible to immortalize a normal human?

“Worry not, this has been done many times before, I've done this with Ganyu, too, though her place of transmission was different, Cloud Retainer and Moon Carver have gone through a similar process back in the war,”

Changsheng hisses amusedly at her companion's reaction.

“Baizhu-yisheng, Changsheng-xiaoren? Would you accompany me to Luhua Pool?”

…

There are only a few times Xiao has felt sick to his stomach.

The first was when he was told to eat dreams for the first time.

The second was when he lost you at the river.

The third was when he learned that the other Yaksha had succumbed to death.

And the fourth was when he realized he killed you.

Seeing Luhua Pool again, with Rex Lapis' back to him, was the fifth.

The Archon knew of his presence even before he neared the ground.

“Xiao,” he greets.

“Morax,” Xiao kneels.

“Stand.”

Weapons do not question their wielder. Servants do not question their masters. Demons do not question their gods-

He faces his Archon, “Why?”

Rex Lapis steps aside and he sees…

You.

Zhongli lets out a small sad smile when he sees the warrior buckle at the knees at the sight of you.

“I… How… Is this… Is this a mockery? A punishment?” his warrior says as he tries his hardest not to show emotion in front of his god.

“No, Xiao,” he says as he places a shoulder on his and guides him to you, “A solace.”

“A reprieve.”

“I don't- I don't understand- why would-”

“Would you like to do the honors of bringing her back to you?”

You stare at him with curiosity as Zhongli guides Xiao to you.

You're quiet again.

“Dip her in the water, she already knows what to do, you just need to hold her, I'll take care of the rest,” his voice ever assuring.

“Qingxin…”

Xiao carries you in his arms, the same way he did when he brought you here to rest, he slowly eases you into the water, eyes on you the whole time, watching for any sign of discomfort.

But you only stared back at him, holding nothing of the memories from before.

“Close your eyes, okay?” he murmurs.

Once he sees you nod and your eyes flutter shut, he lowers you deeper into the water until your face is submerged and Rex Lapis begins to chant with Changsheng.

“Qingxin,” Xiao closes his eyes and presses his forehead to yours under the water.

“Come back to me.”

…

In the dusk, among the quiet of the night, Luhua Pool glows with beauty, the fireflies string around to illuminate and enhance the reflection of the moon above.

…

Your hand catches onto the back of Xiao's neck and he lifts your face above the water.

The chanting from the two has already ended and they stand to watch as the conqueror of demons wipe away the water from your face as you cough a bit.

His hand stays to cup your face.

“Xiansheng?”

Tears drip onto your face without him even realising it.

“Forgive me,” he chokes on his words, “I never- I never meant to- to hurt you, or- or to lose control, I- I should've been faster, I should've- should've asked for- asked for he-”

“Hey, hey, no,” you say as you pull him into your neck, “I'm fine, I'm here, I'm with you,”

Xiao sobs even harder into your neck, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry,” he repeats over and over.

You pull Xiao, your Xiao, into your arms and give him the tightest embrace you could muster with your current strength right now and he bunches the back of your hanfu as he hugs you loosely, not wanting to hurt you with his strength.

As he buries his face into your neck, you're caught with the sight of Morax looking at the two of you with a smile, Baizhu-yisheng and Changsheng-xiaoren nowhere to be found.

“Thank you,” you mouth.

He nods and leaves in a trail of golden light.

You thread your fingers into Xiao's hair and he sighs the last of his sobs into your skin.

“Xiansheng, should we go home?”

Xiao pulls away from you and nods, wiping at his face with his hands, you giggle as you help him, his eyes still rimmed with red.

“Come now, we have a lot to talk about,” you say and he warps away.

…

That night was the most you've ever heard Xiao talk, or at least according to your memories, which were still a bit fuzzy, but you remember enough from your first reincarnation.

The memories from your time with Xiao in the war were even fuzzier now, as if they were books you've read but can't remember the context of, only returning in feelings or scents.

Xiao has apologized more than eighty times that night, his tears endless as you comfort him in your arms.

“Don't worry, now that the whole reincarnating thing is an option, you won't get rid of me so easily,”

“I wish not to be rid of you at all,” he says, voice still stuffy from crying.

“How cute,” you say as you pinch the cheek that wasn't resting on your chest, “The conqueror of demons all so soft,”

…

The two of you talk for the rest of the night, helping each other understand, and taking the time to make him understand that it wasn't his fault.

Xiao promises never to hurt you again and you promise never to leave his side for too long.

After all, his karmic debt, even if significantly reduced by your previous incarnation, was still active.

You decide to get tea with Morax the next day.

…

“Ah, that,” he says as he pours a fruit blend tea, sunsettia and apple tea, “Well, to be frank with you, I haven't the slightest idea of how you reduced his karmic debt,”

“Wait, you mean to tell me that you created me to 'heal him', but you yourself have no idea how to?”

It was… a bit unnerving for Xiao to hear you question his Archon so openly.

“Yes, forgive me, dear, I only wanted a reprieve for your beloved,” he says and takes a sip of his tea.

“That's so… hmph,” you huff and take a sip of your tea.

“Well, what about how I heal him?” You ask a different question.

“I have my suspicions that it aided your untimely death,” Morax says.

“What?”

“Well, the universe must find balance, to take is to be given, and to be given is to take.”

Xiao's brows knit together, “Are you saying she died because she healed me?”

“Yes, Xiao, although I can bring her back, so I do not think it will be an issue, on another note, too, the karmic debt does not further resurface after she somehow heals it,”

The warrior holds his head, that was… a lot of information to take in… he takes a look at you and sighs, this will surely be your topic for the night.

“Wait, I don't get it, if you could bring me back, why didn't you bring Guizhong-xiangsheng back?”

The Archon smiles sadly.

“Because her body didn't have a medium to preserve her memories,” he paused, “She did not want to be reincarnated, she told me so,”

“Oh.”

“Sorry,” you apologize as you pour him another cup of tea.

He laughs at that, “No worries, my child, it is in the past, I'm sure wherever Guizhong is now, she is happier and at peace,”

He looks up at the sky and feels the breeze flow through his hair.

As you look at Xiao, who seems to enjoy the breeze of the wind, too, you think.

You'll choose Xiao.

You'll choose to reincarnate.

You'll heal him and rid him of his karmic debt.

Over and over again.

Until you both get the epilogue you deserve.

prev / masterlist / afterword

usagi's note: ITS 😭 OVER 😭 I 😭 CANT 😭 BELIEVE 😭 IT 😭 im so thankful to everyone who read seriously ily all, to those in the taglist, tysm, i never would've imagined people would actually read this, pls read the afterword if u have time!! im gonna say a lot there, i hope u all take care mwa !! see u next time gbye!!

taglist (open!! green can't be tagged): @irenedoesthings @cherrysnows @makuzume @smoochi-modest @bvtterflyyy @original-person @aphxdea @iratempestatis @constellationguy @lloversss @femaholicc @arietheyluv

@usagiarchive 2025. do not repost, translate, or use for AI. reblogs, likes, and comments are very appreciated!!

[berfgrimm]

butterfly | choi su-bong (thanos) x reader

pairing: choi su-bong (thanos) x f!reader

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, semi-public, enemies to lovers (ish), oral, choking, spanking, heavy on the dirty talk, manhandling, overstimulation, name calling, pet names, pain kink, mentions of humiliation kink, mentions of death/violence. i’m sorry if I forgot anything.

note: hey, so this ended up being 12.5k words and i have actually gone insane from writing it. my app crashed trying to post this. please enjoy as i am exhausted.

———————

The first experience you had with Su-bong was at work. You were employed at a small dance club in Seoul called Temple, where you would bartend on weekends. It was a part-time gig to help pay the bills, and the general vibe of the club was mellow. Until the first night Su-bong showed up with his friends.

You were a fan of his music before you met him and you had a little bit of a crush on him, so you were excited to see him at your place of work. That first night, you’d intended to compliment him on his talent, however, you didn’t get the opportunity. The group of men ran you ragged, ordering drink after drink, causing chaos on the dance floor, interfering with the DJ, hitting on every girl that looked their way. When Su-bong found cause to speak to you, he wasn’t polite to you, but he wasn’t rude — something about his demeanor was off, and you attributed it to the drugs and alcohol.

After that night, Su-bong and his friends would show up at Temple most weekends, and their behavior only worsened. The group managed to get away with their antics since Su-bong was friends with the club owner; this created more problems for you. The easy nights generally ended with you having to clean up broken glass and spilled liquor. On the worst nights, you’d find yourself replacing broken furnishings or cleaning up forgotten panties. You gave your notice the night you had to clean up after Su-bong’s friend who didn’t bother to relieve himself in the bathroom.

Even though Su-bong wasn’t the worst of his group, his celebrity status made him the face of the problem in your mind. You had to leave a job you enjoyed because of a group of disrespectful grown men. You stopped listening to his music after that, and you felt your crush on him slip away, instead being replaced with resentment.

Which brings you here. At these games where your bunk is directly next to his. It’s a cruel joke. A few years have passed since your time at Temple, and you’re positive he wouldn’t remember the damage he caused. You wouldn’t dare bring it up to him, because it didn’t matter much.

The first game and vote have been completed, and everyone sits around the room, some talking, others too scared and traumatized to speak. You sit on the floor with your back against your bed, doing your best to ignore Su-bong, who stands next to his bed with his new buddies, Nam-gyu and Gyeong-su, talking louder than everyone else. You are beginning to get a headache, so you rub your head to help alleviate the tension.

“Can you please talk quieter?” you ask, trying your best to keep your voice calm, but finding it difficult given the situation. “My head is killing me.”

“I’ve got something that will help with that,” Su-bong laughs, crossing towards you as you peer up at him.

It’s the first time you’ve really gotten a good look at him since you arrived. From this angle, with him standing above you, he’s almost…intimidating? No, not that. He wasn’t scary, but the look that he gives you creates a sensation in your stomach that certainly isn’t welcome.

“Not interested,” you reply, looking back to the floor. “Please just keep the volume down. Or if you can’t help it, maybe take it somewhere else.”

“This is my bunk,” Su-bong says, sitting on his bed, crossing his arms and staring at you. The smirk is faint until he runs his tongue across his lips to wet them, which he does slowly. Your eyes lock onto the movement, and you feel trapped for a moment, your thoughts shifting, but you remind yourself to stay focused.

“And this is my bunk,” you retort, gesturing behind you, meeting his eyeline again. “I asked nicely. I figured you’d have some decency in you, buried down deep beneath all of the drugs. Guess not.” You lower your gaze to the floor again, the anger starting to snuff out the other feelings he gives you.

“You think you’re better than me.” The words sound like he’s hurt, but instead his tone is agitated. Looking into his eyes from your spot on the floor, you see an animated expression on his face. It’s intense, like he’s ready to challenge you to a fight.

“Most of us have debt because of real problems,” you say, waving your hand dismissively. “I’m not here because I made a bad investment on some fucking Monopoly money.”

“Then, why are you here?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” he laughs. “You’re here, same as me. I watched you press the circle, and I can see the patch on your jacket. Drugs, crypto, medical debt: all money spends the same, and you need it too. You act like you’re above it all.”

“I'm taking it seriously,” you snap back. “Should I be more like you and treat this like it’s schoolyard fun? When we just saw all of those people get killed?”

“So some strangers died, and you’re going to walk around like you’re dead, too,” he laughs, shrugging his shoulders as he waits for you to say something in response.

“Whatever,” you sigh, turning your head away from him.

“You’re just mad because I’m right,” he laughs.

“I’m not mad,” you reply.

“But I’m right.” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and it takes all of your might not to say anything sarcastic to him when you look at him again. “Okay, you’re not mad,” he shrugs. “Then you’re into me.”

“Into you?” you laugh. “That’s funny.”

“I saw you staring at my mouth before,” he says. “You could tell that I know how to use it, huh, señorita?”

“Don’t call me that,” you say.

You ignore his actual question because maybe, just maybe, he’s not far off. And maybe his cockiness turns you on a little bit, but you won’t admit that out loud, not after the way he and his friends acted at Temple. That doesn’t stop your body from reacting and remembering that little crush you had on him because there’s always something about a guy with an attitude. But his arrogance can only take him so far, and right now he’s testing your patience from running his mouth like this.

Well, while you’re on the subject of his mouth, you weren’t staring…he talks a lot, and raps a little, so of course you find your focus drifting to his mouth. The lighting at the club was never good enough for you to truly see him. But now under the bright lights of this dorm, you have a clear view. His teeth are nice, his lips look soft, and his tongue…no, you can’t think like that, not in front of him.

You realize you’ve been quiet too long and when you tune in again, you see that he’s already pulled his friends back into a conversation. You let out a steady sigh of relief, glad that you didn’t get caught daydreaming about this clown in front of you. At least that’s what you hope.

You drop your head against the bed behind you, and close your eyes, trying to ignore the conversations around you. Instead, you think of how truly scared you are, deep in your chest. Of course you didn’t want to stay in a place like this, surrounded by hundreds of scumbags who are drowning in gambling debt. But maybe Su-bong was right: you need the money just as badly as they do, just for less nefarious reasons. You’re no better than the others.

The sensation of another person beside you pulls you from your thoughts and back to the present. You tilt your head in their direction, peeking from one eye to see the failed rapper looking back at you. With a groan, you close your eyes again, leaning your head back to your previous position.

“Just because our bunks are near each other doesn’t mean we’re friends,” you mutter.

“You talked to me first,” Su-bong shrugs.

“And now I regret it,” you respond.

“I get under your skin.” You can hear him laughing as he speaks, and you try to keep from proving him right. “It’s easy with you, I can tell,” he continues. “I’ve barely done anything and you already hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” you reply, flatly, still not looking at him. “I don’t even know you.”

“You can get to know me,” he mutters.

“What is it?” you ask. “Do you have a humiliation kink? You like when someone talks down to you?”

“I bet you do,” he retorts, and this catches your attention. You raise your head and look at him incredulously; of course he’s fucking smirking. “I saw it before,” he pushes. “You can scowl at me all you want, but you can’t hide your eyes.”

“You’re irritating,” you groan, rubbing your hands over your face.

“So, you’re not wet right now?” he whispers.

“No, I’m not,” you reply — too quickly; he grins wider now, and you try to think of something to recover.

“Guess I’ll have to try harder then,” he smirks, squeezing your thigh and fuck, you jump at the contact.

He swoops away before you can respond, and you can immediately feel shockwaves hit your body. No one has touched you in so long, and all it took was a thigh squeeze from some idiot named after a comic book character for your body to react. You feel flush all over, lightheaded, from one fucking touch.

Now you start to feel hatred towards him. No, hatred is too strong, but it’s definitely rage because what gives him the right to have that effect on your body? Beyond the way he treated you at the club, he’s kind of a loser. He’s a washed up musician, he’s a drug addict, he’s annoying, and his debt is in the billions.

Pick a struggle, you think, as you stand from the floor, taking a few steps out into the open to get a better view of your surroundings.

You look into the crowd of other players in the center of the dorm to try to find him. When you spot him, you clench your jaw, frustrated. He talks animatedly, probably about nothing important, because he doesn’t seem to be very scholarly. He appears to ramble to anyone who will listen and some who won’t, but at least he’s excited about something. No, don’t sympathize.

Still…he looks passionate. Even if what he has to say doesn’t matter to some people, it matters to him. He cares about something. Maybe that passion spreads into other aspects of his demeanor…especially with his mouth…and his hands…

You feel the heat returning to your cheeks and you need to cool off. Your gaze drops from Su-bong, and you quickly make your way through the crowd towards the exit of the dorm. Unfortunately, in your journey, you have to pass Su-bong, who spots you coming and steps into your path.

“Was that you I saw staring at me, señorita?” To your surprise, Su-bong places his hand under your chin, tilting your head towards him.

“There are almost four hundred people here,” you say, shoving his hand away. “I wasn’t looking at you, asshole.” You hope you sound convincing, but you doubt it from the way your body has been betraying you today. Judging from Su-bong’s expression, he isn’t deterred, but his eyes scan your whole face, searching for something. Before he can speak again, however, you sidestep him and continue your trek to the bathroom.

Your hands tremble as you stand at the sink, looking at your reflection in the mirror. Why are you this rattled? He’s just some burned out musician with an attitude, and your emotions are wrecked. You have anger towards him, and annoyance, but you feel desire as well. Maybe you’re confused? After the events of the day, who would blame you for having your emotions mixed up?

You splash some water on your face and around to the back of your neck. The coolness helps you regulate your body temperature enough to make the sensations begin to subside. Still, you have a headache that you hope will be alleviated by your soon-to-be relaxed demeanor.

When you reenter the dorm, most people have broken off into smaller groups, milling around the bunks as opposed to the center of the room. Thankfully, you don’t see Su-bong just from a quick scan around the room, so you make a beeline to your bed.

“Thank God,” you mumble when you don’t see Su-bong in his bed. Rolling your shoulders, you try to rid yourself of that last bit of tension you feel, as you lay in your bed.

The thin mattress doesn’t do much to calm you, but it’s better than the hard floor that you sat on before, so you don’t complain. Closing your eyes, you begin to take slow, deep breaths, relaxing your limbs into the mattress, hoping that you can drift off to sleep.

“You never told me why you’re here.”

The sound of his voice, smug and annoying, makes you want to scream. You were so close to absolute comfort, hopeful for peaceful sleep, but now you feel the tension begin to form in your jaw again almost immediately. Reluctantly, you open your eyes, rolling your head to the side to see Su-bong sitting on his bed, staring at you expectantly.

“That’s none of your business,” you echo your exact sentiment from earlier, hoping he’ll take the hint.

“Well, what did you—?”

“What am I doing that indicates to you that I’m interested in having a conversation right now?” you interrupt, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Please, tell me, so I can stop doing it.”

“You complain a lot,” Su-bong laughs. “But you’re still desperate just like the rest of us.” He pushes every single one of your buttons, relentlessly, and you begin to wonder what it would be like to punch him in his face, but no, you can’t resort to violence.

“Jesus Christ, you don’t know when to quit.”

“You’d be surprised how long I can last,” he smirks. The charm has worn thin, and you don’t feel the sensation in your stomach like you expect; maybe the crush is gone again. “You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Su-bong practically giggles at his own words.

“Shut the fuck up!” you snap, your voice louder than you intended — loud enough to silence some of the other players in nearby bunks, but you’re undeterred. “You talk so fucking much,” you continue, sitting up on the edge of your bed so you can really see him. “All I’m thinking about is how I want you to leave me alone!”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” he says, most of the teasing now absent from his tone, but there’s still something that you can’t place. Excitement?

“Oh, that’s right,” you say. “You get off on being talked down to. Well, get it from somewhere else. I’m not interested.”

Before he has another opportunity to speak, you lay on your bed again, with your back to him this time, and you cover your head with your pillow to block out the noise. You think you hear Su-bong say something, but you don’t acknowledge him, instead you focus on getting some much needed sleep.

———————

After successfully competing in the six legged race, you begin to think that you might not be able to handle another game. You’re only a few million away from having enough money to pay off your debt, but it weighs heavy on your conscience. The blood on the soles of your shoes makes you queasy and sad, knowing that all of the lives lost over the last two days probably thought the same thing you’re thinking right now: one more game.

Sitting on your bed, you stare down at your jacket that you have draped over your lap. You trace the circle on the blue patch, disappointed in yourself for placing everyone in danger once again. All for the sake of money.

“I wasn’t sure you’d make it out safe this time, señorita.”

“Oh, come on,” you groan, rolling your eyes. You hoped that maybe he’d take up residence elsewhere, perhaps closer to his friends, but, much to your dismay, Su-bong kept his bunk next to yours. “I told you not to call me that,” you say, tossing your jacket onto the bed next to you.

“What would you like me to call you?”

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t talk to me at all.”

“That’s not very nice,” Su-bong’s tone is playful, bordering on sing-song as though he thinks you’re friends.

“Well, I’m not a very nice person,” you reply.

“I’m starting to see that,” he answers, laying on his bed with his hands behind his head.

“I think you’re not used to people who aren’t going to put up with your shit,” you say. “You got so comfortable with being surrounded by yes-men, you forgot what it’s like to have someone genuinely dislike you.”

“I thought you didn’t know me to not like me,” he retorts, turning onto his side and propping his head on his hand. “It’s been twenty-four hours. What changed?”

“This isn’t the first time we’ve met.”

“Oh, that’s what it is!” Su-bong’s face lights up, a wide smirk spreading across his lips. “We hooked up, and I never called you back. I’m sorry, señorita. I’m sure it was the best you ever had but I’m not into relationships.”

“You think we hooked up?” you laugh.

“Well, if we haven’t before, we can try it tonight.”

“First of all, you wouldn’t even know what to do with it if I gave it to you,” you say, not missing the amusement on Su-bong’s face. “Second, I shouldn’t be surprised you don’t remember me. You were usually pretty faded by the time I’d see you.” The smirk starts to drop from Su-bong’s face and you can practically see him searching his memories for your face. “Don’t worry,” you wave your hand, giving a shrug of your shoulders. “I probably wouldn’t remember me either if I was you. All of the cleaning up I had to do after you and your friends were around, I used to think it was what I deserved: picking glass off of the floor and cleaning up piss. But now? Now, Thanos, I’m starting to think you’re right. I’m not better than you. But the good thing about that is that you’re not better than me anymore either. So, I guess I should be happy.”

Su-bong is silent for the first time since you’ve met him, and your body feels thankful. The look on his face is unreadable, and unfortunately, you worry that you took it a step too far. That is until he swings his legs off the edge of the bed so he can sit up, pointing at you with a look of realization.

“Club Temple,” he says, slowly nodding his head. “You’re that bartender.”

You’re unsure of what it is about his words that sets you off, probably the borderline dismissive way he spoke, but your fists clench and you envision yourself punching him directly in his face. Before you can act on your impulse, however, Su-bong speaks again.

“Butterfly,” he laughs.

“What?” you snap.

“I remember you,” he goes on. “I used to call you ‘butterfly’.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to catch you,” he grins, as if it’s a good joke, but you roll your eyes. Still, you feel it: the flutter in the pit of your stomach because now he looks at you with the same intention from the day before when he was standing over you. “You were quiet, but you were sexy. I wondered where you ran off to,” he says as he stands from the bed, slowly sauntering towards you, and planting himself beside you on the mattress. “I always thought we would have hit it off. The way you gave me everything I asked for, I figured you’d listen really well.” You try not to squirm from the way the fluttering begins to increase, but his voice is suddenly deeper and the way he presses against you spreads warmth through your whole body. “I didn’t realize that you had a mouth like this,” he whispers. “Though I thought of other things you could do with your mouth…”

“Alright,” you mutter, feeling yourself begin to flush, so you press your hand to his face, shoving him away as you stand from your bed. “At least I know you’re still an asshole.” You venture a few steps from the bed, avoiding eye contact with Su-bong for fear of him seeing the impact his words have on you. From the corner of your eye, you see him lying back on your bed laughing; you can’t figure out if the feeling it gives you makes you want to fight or fuck. “When I come back, I want you off of my bed,” you say, turning abruptly and storming away before you do something you regret.

The bathroom is beginning to be the safest place for you as of late, so you find yourself clutching the same sink as the day before, staring into the same mirror, on the verge of a breakdown. You wonder if punching the mirror will help alleviate this vortex of sensations in your body, but you have to keep your calm. With another game tomorrow, you can’t afford to bust your knuckles nor can you lose focus like this. A quick splash of water over your face and a couple of deep breaths will have to suffice.

You make sure to walk slowly back to the dorm, taking enough time to reset your emotions before you have to face Su-bong again. One more close call with him, and you may not be able to control yourself again.

When you get back to your bunk, Su-bong is nowhere to be seen, and you feel a pang of disappointment. You suppose you should be relieved, for your sanity and for your body, that he took your advice and made himself scarce, but with the way your body has been betraying you for the last twenty-four hours, you don’t trust your emotions right now. You hurriedly slip off your shoes and climb into your bed before your body starts making more decisions for you, and prepare for another greatly needed rest.

———————

Playing Mingle only proves to complicate things further, as far as your resolve goes. You try to find a spot on the turntable that puts you far away from Su-bong, but you quickly realize that you haven’t made any alliances during your time playing the games. All you can do is hope for the best.

The first number called out is ten, and you quickly try to locate a group that only needs one more player, but you find it more complicated than it seemed to be. You begin to panic and the numbers on the clock appear to tick faster, until you feel someone grab you by the wrist.

“This way, señorita!”

Su-bong tugs you along with him and his group, hurrying towards an open room. He shoves you inside first, where you stumble forward into the back wall of the room. When you turn around to watch the others pile into the room, Su-bong crowds you quickly, pressing his hands flat against the wall behind you to box you between his arms.

“There you go,” he smirks, pressing his body to yours. “Stay just like that.” The way he speaks, hushed so only you can hear, making his voice sound deeper than normal, you can feel it rumble through your whole body.

And you fucking whimper.

Su-bong looks more satisfied and absolutely tickled at your reaction, and with a lick of his lips, he tilts his head to catch your gaze. You set your hands on his hips, firmly shoving him away from you to be able to breathe again. You feel overheated and wet, it makes you blush in embarrassment as the other players in the room look at you suspiciously.

For the next couple of rounds, you put as much distance between yourself and Su-bong as you can. Sometimes you catch him staring at you, but you can’t let your mind wander, not when it’s quite literally life or death. One round, he tries to pull you into his group, but you snatch your hand away and dash to find a different group to align with.

When the final round begins, you’re nearer to Su-bong and his remaining friends than you wanted to be, but you can’t focus on that. Instead you start doing the math: fifty rooms, one hundred and twenty-six people…the last number has to be two. You spare a quick glance around and see who you could grab that doesn’t already have a group. There’s no way you’ll be able to be in a room alone with Su-bong, especially if he touches you again, because you’re sure you’ll break. That’s when you spot Min-su just a few feet from you.

When the turntable stops, and the number two is called, you reach for Min-su, but someone else’s hand wraps around your wrist — of course it was Su-bong. All you can do is run along with him, knowing you’ll waste valuable time if you try arguing. Instead, your heart pounds harder in your chest. Su-bong shoves you into the room and hurries in after you, slamming the door shut before turning to grin at you.

“You’ve been flying away from me all day, butterfly,” he smirks. “Guess I caught you now.” You try to feel relieved from surviving the game but with your body already in overdrive, Su-bong slowly closing in on you only makes it worse. “I heard you earlier,” he says, stalking closer towards you. “Whimpering. You finally gave yourself away.”

“I’m not gonna fuck you in this room,” you say, shakily. Su-bong licks his lips, eyeing you up like he was prepared to pounce; the sensation in your stomach begins to spread throughout the rest of your body from the way he makes no effort to hide his staring. He now stands directly in front of you, just as he was in the first room; he’s so close, you can feel his breath on your face.

You both stay silent for several moments, and all you can think about is if he would put his hands on you one more time, he’d push you past that last hurdle. But instead, the gunshots ring out on the other side of the door, startling you.

Your next move is purely automatic, so frightened by the noises, you don’t realize what you’re doing right away. You place your hands on his hips and press your face against his chest, instinctively looking for comfort from your fright. Realizing that you’re seeking solace in the arms of Thanos, you quickly begin to pull back, but he wraps his arms around you to keep you in place.

“You’re okay,” he whispers. “I have you.”

The tone of his voice is different. He actually sounds sincere. It’s a new shade for him, and the way his hand gently rubs your back doesn’t help the fiery sensation under your skin. It does, however, soothe the fear enough for you to be able to focus on him instead of the scene outside of your room.

“I can feel your heart beating,” Su-bong mutters. “Is it because you’re this close to me?” You laugh in spite of yourself, but with your face pressed into Su-bong’s jacket it sounds more giggly than you intend. “We have a few minutes…” he begins to slide his hands down your back and you gently shove him away before he can do whatever he’s planning on.

“There’s a camera right there,” you say, pointing to the wall behind you.

“I always liked an audience,” he smirks.

“Oh, yeah?” you laugh. “Not worried you’ll get stage fright like you did during that last rap battle? Or was it the drugs that time?” You worry that you may have crossed a line, but when he scoffs and crosses his arms with a grin, you know he’s prepared to snap back.

“You like watching me perform?”

“I used to,” you nod.

“We could have a performance of our own right now.”

“I doubt you’d be a good fuck,” you shrug. “It’d probably be a waste of time.”

“Is that what you think?” Su-bong asks, backing you towards the wall again. You nod your head slowly, this time not caring if he can see the way you stare at him. “That’s funny,” he nods. “Because you look like you want to kiss me right now.”

“If only to shut you up.”

Before Su-bong is able to reply, the lock disengages for your room, signifying the end of the game. You slide past Su-bong, taking your leave, not giving him the opportunity to make another innuendo. You slip into the crowd in an effort to get lost among the other players, but you can almost feel Su-bong creeping along behind you.

As you walk past one of the side corridors of the labyrinth, Su-bong finally makes his move. You feel his arm hook around your waist, hurriedly pulling you along with him into the dark space of the side corridor before you’re spotted by any guards.

“No cameras here,” Su-bong mutters, spinning you around and pinning you back against the wall. His hands land on your hips, and you take a firm grip on his biceps, both of you breathing hard in anticipation.

When he finally kisses you, there’s no more buildup, no more suspense because now you’re past all of the pretense, and you both need this. The kiss is sloppy, all tongue and teeth and soft moaning into one another’s mouths — your head reels with pleasure and excitement.

While he has you distracted with the kiss, Su-bong’s hand slips into the front of your pants, and past the waistband of your panties. You feel him just as his fingers press into your folds, swirling through your wetness.

“Fuck,” you gasp into his mouth, and break away from the kiss to look down at his hand that begins to tease you.

“Have you been like this all day?” Su-bong asks, leaning his forehead against yours. “You’ve been pretending to be so mad, running your mouth, and the whole time you’ve been soaking wet.” Your lips stay parted and you let out soft pants from the feeling of his fingers touching everything except your clit. “What turns you on the most, huh?” Su-bong continues, kissing your jaw tenderly. “To be treated like a good girl or to be treated like a slut?”

You can’t find your words to tell him that you like both because now his fingers gently brush over your clit and your moan gets caught in your throat. Su-bong chuckles, taking a step closer so he can grind himself against your hip. One of your hands finds its way to his hair, fisting enough to tug his head back away from your face.

“You’re gonna fuck me here?” You’re almost breathless as you speak, but the look in Su-bong’s eyes, arousal and excitement, drives you to keep going. “You’ve been talking about it for two days,” you continue, rolling your hips against his hand, desperate for friction. “Throw me down right here and fuck me. Show me what all of that attitude was for.”

“I guess I have my answer,” Su-bong mutters, and you set both of your hands on his shoulders now to brace yourself. “You’re begging me to fuck you on the floor of this place…I don’t think a good girl would do that.”

This time you whimper again, not because of how he touches you but from the way his voice sounds: strained but sharp. You can’t stay still, squirming against him, unable to compose yourself or even look him in the eyes. You aren’t ashamed of how you’re acting, because fuck, you really do want him, but you’re flustered.

“After the vote,” he begins, moving his head along with yours, trying to get you to look into his eyes while his fingers still tease you. “I’ll meet you in the bathroom. You can show me how much of a slut you really can be.”

You want to say something sarcastic in response because you’d prefer not to give him the upper hand, but your instincts kick in and all you can do is nod slowly. Su-bong’s fingers tease your clit again, and you whimper in response, grabbing him tighter to keep him close. When you finally make eye contact with him, of course he looks smug.

“Yeah? Does that sound good?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, nodding faster. Su-bong kisses you, just as sloppy as the first kiss, and slides his hand from your pants again, much to your disappointment. So you whine in protest, which seems to be your new favorite reaction to him.

“Shhh,” Su-bong hushes, breaking the kiss. “You can wait.” He slips his fingers into his mouth, cleaning the taste of you from them. “Mmm,” he hums, pulling them from his lips with a pop. “I know what I’m going to do to you first…”

“You love to fucking tease, don’t you?” you breathe, shoving him away from you.

“I guess we both do,” he retorts, adjusting his pants to try to hide that he’s obviously hard. “Pull yourself together, señorita.”

Su-bong disappears from the hallway, leaving you turned on and slightly annoyed. You take his advice and straighten your pants to look more presentable before you follow after him.

For a moment, with your emotions heightened, you find yourself worrying that if you vote out of this hell, you won’t be able to see Su-bong again. You didn’t want to vote in favor of staying just so you could get railed in a public bathroom, and with the amount of money you garnered, you’d be able to successfully pay off your debt. You press the ‘X’.

When you walk towards the red side, you catch a glimpse of Su-bong’s face, scrunched up in anger as he signals that he has his eyes on you. The gesture makes you laugh, although you know he’s serious. And as the numbers creep higher, you think that maybe you really will be going home at the end of the vote.

You didn’t expect the vote to split 50-50. The mixed emotions return to your chest, but as you start to wander back to your bunk, you spy Su-bong creeping out of the dorm, presumably on his way to the bathroom. You give him a few moments for a head start before you make your way to join him. You reach the bathroom just in time to see Su-bong ducking into the women’s room, so you sneak in immediately after him.

“I thought the women’s room would be nicer than the men’s,” Su-bong says, peering around the room, giving a peek into each of the stalls. “I’m disappointed.”

“Life would be boring without disappointment,” you shrug, watching him carefully until he finally turns to face you, a serious look on his face.

“So,” he begins, leaning against the wall, crossing his arms. “You wanted to get away from me again, butterfly?” When your eyebrows furrow at his words, he taps his finger on the circle patch affixed to his jacket, then nods his head towards you. “Did you get scared thinking about being alone with me?” he smirks.

“No,” you reply, running your hand over the ‘X’ patch. “I figured if we made it out of here, you wouldn’t care that we missed our bathroom rendezvous.”

“Hmm,” Su-bong hums, breaking his gaze with you and staring to the side in thought; he appears to weigh his options for a few moments before answering. “Well, good thing we’re still here,” he says. “But if we had voted out, I’d find you so we could finish what we started.”

It’s a mix between a threat and a promise that gives you a flip in your stomach and a flush to your skin. Su-bong notices the change when he speaks, which brings a more pleased smirk to his lips. He tips his head to the side to eye you up, the wheels turning in his head with what you assume are completely devilish ideas.

“Come here,” Su-bong commands, beckoning for you with a crook of his fingers. You move closer to him, and he grabs your hips to guide you backwards to the sinks. “I want you to take your pants and panties off,” he whispers, eyes locked with yours. “And stand right here, so I can see you.”

Su-bong stops you when your back hits the wall perpendicular to the sinks, then releases his grip on you, taking a few steps back and crossing his arms. He stares at you expectantly, so you begin to do as you’re told, stepping out of your shoes first before working your clothing down your legs to pool at your feet. You also take the opportunity to remove your jacket, dropping it along with your other clothes. You keep your eyes on your task, a tinge of nerves making you too shy to look back at Su-bong just yet.

When you are naked from the waist down, you straighten your back, pressing yourself against the wall as you were instructed to do. With a slow breath out, you finally look to Su-bong, who has his gaze locked on your lower half.

“Put your leg up there,” he nods his head towards the sink nearest you, and you fucking blush thinking of being on display for him. “Do you need me to help?” he asks, his tone clearly amused as he already begins to stalk closer to you.

“Someone could walk in,” you say, finally, when he places his hands on your bare hips.

“No one cares what we’re doing in here,” he laughs. “By the end of this, you’ll never see them again. They’ll be dead or disappeared.” His hand slides down your thigh, gripping it firmly and helping you lift your leg to press your foot to the side of the sink. You lean your weight to the wall behind you, bracing yourself against the cold tile with your hand. “Besides that,” he begins, casually slipping his fingers through your wetness. “A little slut like you, I’m sure you don’t really care if anyone sees you.”

“Maybe…” you breathe, studying his face as if you want to memorize it.

“If I would have known you were like this, I would have fucked you at Temple.”

Su-bong lowers to his knees in front of you, eying you up like he’s about to have his last meal. Before he dives in, he bites along your inner thigh, each one harder than the last, making you yelp in surprise. Su-bong laughs against your skin, turning his bites into kisses now until he reaches your wetness.

The teasing starts slowly, a gentle brush around your clit with the tip of his tongue but not quite touching it yet. It’s softer than you expect from him, but with how badly you’ve been aching for him, you aren’t sure how much teasing you can take. As though he can read your mind, he starts to trace his fingertips around your entrance, getting his fingers nice and slick for what comes next.

It feels like forever before he touches your clit, and even then, the contact is so tender, it’s almost nonexistent. You whine in response, hoping he’ll take the hint, but of course he doesn’t — intentional or not, he’s driving you crazy. You thread your fingers through his short locks, trying to urge him in to put some fucking effort in, but he doesn’t allow you to move him.

“C’mon,” you whine, sounding more tantrum-like than you would have liked.

“You made me wait, now you can be patient too.”

“This is different,” you retort, breathless. “I was teasing you with words…you’ve got your mouth on my pussy…”

“Mmm,” he hums against you. “That’s a good point.”

Su-bong finally gives you what you want, licking your clit more directly, with more pressure than before, and at the same time, he slips his index and middle fingers inside of you. All you can do is moan and tip your head back against the wall, the sensation of someone touching you after so long becoming too much very quickly.

“You’re tight for a slut,” he mutters against you, his mouth sounding wet and the heat from his breath blowing against your already hot skin. “No one has touched you like this in a while, hm?”

You clench around his fingers as they pump into you, shallow thrusts as the speed of his tongue increases. A thought pops into your head that makes you grin: maybe you can bully him into going faster.

“Fuck, go faster,” you groan, grinding yourself against his face. “Unless you’re just bad at eating pussy.”

He freezes, his face still pressed to you, tongue halfway through a lick. You’d be mad that he stopped if you didn’t know what would be coming next. When he finally sits back so he can look up at you, his eyes have darkened, and he appears incensed by your words — so you decide to give him one more push.

“I knew this wasn’t going to be worth my time,” you mutter.

Su-bong unzips his jacket, pulling it off of his arms and spreading it on the floor; he removes his cross necks as well and stuffs it into his pocket. He grabs your hips, harder than you expect, and yanks you down to your knees on the floor with him. You allow him to do as he wishes with you, and you find yourself on the floor, your body resting on the clothes to put a barrier between you and the tile.

“Spread your legs,” he commands. You do as you’re told, spreading your thighs wide and giving him an eyeful of the way you’re now drenched because of him. He doesn’t speak again, but quickly drops down onto his elbows to bury his face in your wetness.

He surprises you with just how voracious he is, his mouth claiming your clit immediately, and his fingers slipping back into you. From this angle, his pace is faster and fuck, those long, slender fingers go deeper with each thrust. You moan out, pressing your hands to the ground beneath you and arching against him. You swear you can feel him laugh in response.

Su-bong’s free hand grabs the thick of your thigh, pulling your leg to hook over his shoulder so your heel presses to his back. He doesn’t let go of your thigh, but holds it harder, feeling like it’s enough pressure to leave bruises on your skin.

The way his fingers pump into you is better at this angle, digits curling up with each hard thrust. But his mouth is a revelation. He alternates between tonguing your clit and sucking, the absolute perfect back and forth to match how hard he fingers you.

“Fuck,” you moan, threading your fingers through his hair and tugging, much harder than you intend, but he growls against you. Of course he likes to get his hair pulled.

Su-bong shoves your leg off of his back, instead pinning it to the ground so he can keep you spread wide open for him. Now he increases the speed of his torture on you, sucking and thrusting so hard that it starts to hurt but fuck, it gets you that much closer to climaxing. Maybe you aren’t any better than he is if you’re getting horny from a little bit of pain. But you can’t think about that, you have to get off. All you need is to give him one more push

“At least your mouth is good for something,” you pant.

That does it. Su-bong’s pace increases and you can’t stop the moans that start to claw their way from your chest in response. He’s erratic and forceful and it’s exactly what you need to push you over the edge, tumbling towards your climax.

“Oh, fuck!” you moan, arching your back, both of your hands grasping his hair to keep him right where you need him to ride out your high. “Fuck, baby.”

Your first orgasm brought on by someone else in so long and you can feel your legs trembling from the intensity. He doesn’t stop until you release your grip on his hair and drop back onto the floor, panting and squirming.

“Mmmm,” he hums against you, finally pulling back for air and sitting back on his knees to peer down at you. “It was ‘asshole’ earlier, now it’s ‘baby’. It just took my tongue to get you to change your mind, hm?” You feel a flush hit your face at his words because you hadn’t realized you’d called him ‘baby’. He sucks the taste of you from his fingers before he scoots closer to lean over your body and rests his weight in his hands at your sides. “Is this what it’s like when you’re a good girl?” Su-bong asks, licking his lips. “I like you this way… but I think I prefer the slut.” There’s a playful glint in his eyes, but when he kisses you, it’s gentler than you expect.

“Are you getting soft on me now because I called you ‘baby’?” you joke against his lips. He rests all of his weight on one hand to use the other to take hold of your wrist and press the palm of your hand against the bulge in his pants.

“Does that feel soft to you?”

“Is this why you talk so much shit?” you ask, rubbing him over his pants. “With the attitude you have, I’d expect you were compensating, but, fuck…and you got this hard just from eating my pussy?” You swear you can see him blush, but he quickly chuckles and sits back to rest on his knees again.

“What can I say, I love a slut who’s needy,” Su-bong retorts.

You sit up so you’re closer to him, working his pants and briefs down his hips until you can free his erection, and fuck if you don’t feel your mouth water from the sight. You try to hide the look in your eyes that you’re sure gives away just how badly you want him, but Su-bong chuckles.

Before he can speak, probably to tease, you spit on his erection so you can begin to stroke him. You angle him toward your mouth so you can suck on the head of his cock, getting a taste of the precum that has already leaked out.

“How does that taste?” Su-bong asks, his hand resting at the base of your head, urging you to take more of him into your mouth. “Have you been thinking about it since you met me?”

He wasn’t wrong: you had been thinking about this moment since you arrived at the games. Sure, you’d thought about hooking up with him when you first met at the club, but a torrid, illicit bathroom hookup was not what was on your mind back then. You thought of kissing, holding hands, making love, and other sweet things that were far from your mind right now. Instead you want to know what it feels like to choke on him. And maybe you have to let yourself loosen up a bit to get it.

You pull off of him, glancing up to peer into his eyes. You motion for him to stand up, and he obliges, staring down at you while he slowly strokes himself. Sitting up on your knees in front of him, you peer up at him from under your lashes, your tongue teasing the head of his cock.

“You like to tease, don’t you?” Su-bong asks, inching his hips forward to encourage you to take him deeper.

“I just want to be a good slut for you,” you whisper, the tip of your tongue still gently toying with him.

“Oh, yeah?” Su-bong chuckles in surprise, stopping for a moment to pull in a quick breath. “Show me what you can do, then.”

You take him halfway into your mouth, bobbing your head along with the stroke of your hand. Su-bong lets out a quiet groan, his hand holding on the back of your head, showing restraint by not applying any pressure. You hollow out your cheeks, sucking harshly on him as you pick up your face but you don’t take him any deeper, not just yet.

“If I had my phone, I’d film you right now and make you famous,” Su-bong mumbles, holding his hands up in front of him as if he was a director framing a shot. “I don’t know what debt you have but I know what you could have done to pay it off.”

The implication of his words makes you moan around him, which in turn causes Su-bong to give a thrust of his hips against your face. It catches you off guard when he pushes himself deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. When you gag around him, he lets out a deep moan that you can feel vibrating through your body, landing straight between your thighs.

“Jesus,” Su-bong breathes. “Do that again.”

He sounds strained, like he’s struggling not to sound too desperate. You grab his hips with both hands so you can hold him still when you start bobbing your head over him, taking him all the way into your mouth. Su-bong rocks his hips against your movements, giving an extra nudge so he can steal a few more centimeters of space in your mouth. When he gives you a particularly hard thrust straight into your throat, he grasps the back of your head, keeping you in place. You gag on him, struggling to maintain his girth, but the feeling makes you clench around nothing, because, fuck, it feels so good.

“Damn,” Su-bong groans, releasing his grip in your head so you can back off, but you don’t.

You can feel him staring down at you still struggling to contain him in your mouth. Until you swallow around him, and he stutters out words you can’t understand. He pushes at your shoulders to signal he needs a moment, which you quickly oblige, taking in a few deep breaths.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, running a hand through his hair. “If I die in these games, at least I get to go out after some good head.” When you attempt to grasp him once again, Su-bong grabs your wrist, stopping you. You peer up at him, trying to give him a look that translates into you begging him to keep sucking his cock, but he shakes his head. “Get up here,” he rasps, pulling you to your feet by your arm.

The way he grips your arm, hard enough to hurt, makes you whine. Not in protest because you can’t handle it, but because it feels good, and you want more. Su-bong hears your moan, and stops tugging at your arm long enough for you to get your footing.

“You like that?” he asks, and you nod in response. “I should have known.” He yanks you towards the sinks, spinning you around and holding you firmly by your hips. You can feel that his grip is much harder than before, because now he’s trying to test your limits.

One of his hands lets go of your hip, and slides up your back, forcing you to bend over the sink. Your hands grasp the sides of the sink for support as you watch Su-bong’s reflection in the mirror. You get an idea that immediately puts a smirk on your face; just because you’re giving him the upper hand doesn’t mean you can’t have a little bit of fun.

You take a step back so that you’re pressed against Su-bong, and you start grinding your ass against his erection. He lets out a deep groan, lowering his gaze between your bodies so he can watch the way you rub against him. You watch him lift his shirt up his stomach so he can get a better view of what you’re doing. Seeing Su-bong like this, pupils blown, licking his lips, giving you a glimpse of his body while he grinds along with you…fuck, you could come again just from the sight.

“You want it inside of you, or would you rather keep playing with it?” he asks, his hand not holding his shirt giving you a hard slap on your backside. You lurch forward and whimper from the contact, giving him your best pleading eyes through the mirror. “Say it, señorita,” he teases, angling hisnhips so he can tease the head of his cock against your entrance.

“Fuck me,” you plead. “I need it. Please, baby. Make it hurt.”

“Jesus,” he laughs, squeezing your hip hard enough to make you arch. “I should have done this years ago.” Su-bong pushes inside of you, burying as deep as he can go. He pins you between himself and the sink, the porcelain hard against your hips. He doesn’t move immediately, but revels in the feeling of you squeezing around him. “Fuck,” he whispers, licking his lips and tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling with a groan. “You haven’t felt it like this before, have you? Are you sure you can take it? You’re shaking already.”

You hadn’t realized that you were trembling, but when he calls attention to it, your first instinct is to feel shy about it. But no, you want him to use you, to manhandle you, to fuck you until you can’t take it anymore. You’ll have to stroke his ego to get him to really give it to you the way you need it, but you’re not embarrassed of the way you’re going to act.

“Please fuck me,” you whine, swaying your hips, trying to get him to move. Su-bong stares at you in the mirror for a moment, eyes darting around your face before he grabs you by your shoulders to pull you upright with your back against his.

“Yeah?” he whispers in your ear, looking at you in the mirror. “You’re begging me? Do you need anybody or is it just me?” His hands slide up your shirt, cupping your breasts and squeezing them roughly; you see him smirk when he rubs his thumbs over your hard nipples.

“You, just you. Please!”

Su-bong growls as he bends you at your waist again, forcefully pressing you over the sink. You brace yourself on the sides, unable to lift your gaze to find him for his hand that holds you down by the back of your head. He slowly shifts his hips back, pulling all the way out until it’s just his tip inside of you, and waits for you to start squirming.

When he snaps his hips forward again, he drives you against the sink hard, the pain immediately evident in your hips. And you clench around him from the sensation. He repeats the motion again, harder, and you whine, your grip on the sink slipping.

Su-bong starts a pace. A slow and hard pace, driving you against the edge of the sink over and over until the pain starts to numb and your pussy aches from how roughly he thrusts into you. He still holds your head down, pressing it against the porcelain near the taps.

“What is it that you said before?” Su-bong begins, speaking gruff and deep as he keeps his slow pace. “That I ‘wouldn’t know what to do with it’? Do you still think that?” Your eyes water because he’s fucking mocking you. He can see and feel everything that he’s doing to you, but he needs to hear you tell him; he wants you to eat your words.

“No, my pussy’s yours,” you whine, one of your hands blindly reaching behind you to grab his forearm. ”It feels fucking great. You’re so big, no one has ever stretched me like this.”

Su-bong grabs both of your arms, bringing them behind you and holding them against your back to pin you down to the sink. You briefly wonder how many bruises you’ll end up with by the end of the night, but you don’t have much time to be distracted as he uses his grip on your arms for leverage.

He starts to thrust into you again, and fuck it feels so good to have him pounding you into the sink. You hear his breath come out in heavy huffs as he sets his pace, speeding up from what he’d previously done. You can’t help yourself, moaning in a way that you never have for anyone else before: needy and whiny.

“You love this, don’t you?” Su-bong asks, breathless, but still determined to get those sweet sounds from you.

You start to feel tension building in your stomach again, and you are desperate to get another climax, so you struggle against his grip to signify that you want him to free your wrists. He quickly obliges, instead holding you firmly by your waist with one hand, spanking you hard with the other. You moan as you brace yourself on the sink again, working against him to try to get him deeper if it’s even possible.

“Spank me again,” you beg, your voice sounding unlike your own as his hips start to thrust faster.

“Oh, are you a bad girl?” Su-bong asks, and you can actually hear him smirking.

You nod furiously, and he quickly slaps your backside again, hard enough to make it sting. Your legs tremble beneath you, and you know it won’t take much to get another orgasm. You bring one of your shaky hands from the sink to your thighs, but Su-bong catches your wrist to bring it behind your back, pinning it there.

”Uh-uh,” he chides. “This pussy belongs to me, isn’t that what you said? I’ll decide when you can come.” You moan his name in the most pathetic way you’re able to manage, and he laughs in response, landing another slap to your ass.

“Please,” you moan, dropping your head forward next to the faucet, and closing your eyes. “I’ll be good for you…I’ll come as many times as you want me to.” You aren’t even sure if you’re going to be able to keep your promise because your body is already weak, but you need it right now.

“Shit,” he moans, leaning over you to press his weight against your arm and back. “That’s so sexy…I’ll give you what you want only because you’re being such a good slut for me.”

Su-bong reaches around front of you, rubbing circles on your clit. The sensation makes your knees buckle immediately and you moan louder, swearing and muttering his name. Su-bong’s hips plow harder into you, faster still, and the speed at which he teases your clit increases along with it. It’s only another moment before you feel yourself crashing over the edge.

You’re sure someone will be able to hear you moaning Su-bong’s name, because you can almost feel the vibrations echoing off of the walls. Your body quakes with your orgasm, the sensation flowing through you all the way to your fingertips. Su-bong slows his thrusts until finally he stops, still buried deep inside of you. His hands set softly on your hips, giving you a moment’s reprieve to catch your breath.

“You good?” he asks, quietly, rubbing one of his hands over your backside.

“Mhm, keep going,” you mutter.

“Needy,” he chuckles, slowly pulling out of you with a small groan.

When Su-bong pulls you away from the sink, you feel the dull pain from how he’s handled you so far, but now, he shoves your back against the wall between two sinks. You pant softly, staring into his eyes, trying to read his thoughts, until he presses both hands against the wall on either side of your head.

When he leans in to kiss you, you expect him to be rough, but it’s surprisingly soft, and tender. While he’s distracted, you take the opportunity to wrap your fingers around his length, stroking at a steady pace. Su-bong groans into the kiss, but breaks away to press his forehead to yours, his eyes closed.

“Mmm,” he hums, rocking his hips against your hand. “I thought you wanted to be a slut. You’re playing with me like I'm your boyfriend.”

“I can’t keep my hands off of you,” you reply, stealing a kiss that makes him smirk faintly. Your free hand slides under his shirt, touching his skin softly for a moment until you dig your nails in just a little. Su-bong inhales sharply the smirk on his lips spreading wider. “You like it, anyway,” you tease.

“I’m only letting you have a break before it’s my turn again,” he responds, tipping his head back to look into your eyes. His face displays mixed emotions as he tries to keep his composure, but you can see the amusement as well — the break must be over.

Su-bong grasps your wrists, moving your hands to set on the sinks on either side of you. He keeps his eyes trained on your face as he reaches between your bodies to rub your clit. You mewl in response; you don’t want to stop because you need more, but fuck, you’re so sensitive from your romp thus far. You break eye contact with Su-bong, your head lolling forward as his slow torture of your clit spreads a shiver throughout your body.

“I thought you wanted more,” he teases, tilting his head around to try to catch your gaze. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to take it. My butterfly wants to fly away again.”

“I want you so bad it’s making me fucking angry,” you reply, when his head nudges yours to signify he wants to see your face.

“Yeah?” he laughs, grinning at you with heavy, lust filled eyes. You feel his fingers move closer to your entrance, his middle and ring fingers slipping inside of you quickly. “This is what you want? For me to make you come again? Tell me how good it is.” Su-bong starts to pump his fingers into you roughly, his hand angled so the heel of his hand rubs your clit as he goes. “Tell me” he says, his free hand grasping your throat, not yet applying pressure, but only holding you.

“It feels so fucking good,” you moan, grabbing his hand that holds your throat and urging him to tighten his grip. His eyes flash briefly with concern, but you nod your head quickly.

“Put your hands back on the sinks,” Su-bong commands, so you quickly grab the sinks again, using them for support as you feel your next orgasm beginning to build. “You can only let go if you need me to stop. Otherwise, you stay just like this. Remember, this belongs to me now. Right?”

“Mhm,” you hum, nodding furiously as you keep your eyes on his face. He studies every emotion on your face, as if he needs to commit it to memory, until he starts to finger you harder and faster.

His grip on your throat tightens and you drag in a ragged breath while you can. You close your eyes, trying to maintain your composure, but his grip tightens again. You can feel his rings pressing firmly into your skin. You use your hold on the sinks as leverage to grind against his hand, feeling yourself inching closer to release.

“Oh, god,” you gasp. “Please.”

He fingers you harder, curling them inside of you to get you right where he wants. The hand that holds your throat now cuts off your ability to breath and you feel almost euphoric at the sensation. Su-bong’s eyes never leave your face, searching for any signs from you that it’s too much. When his grip loosens briefly, you pull in a ragged breath mixed with a groan, but you’re thankful for the air. You start panting, losing any shred of inhibitions that may have been left over.

Su-bong doesn’t let up, but keeps thrusting his fingers, trying to get them deeper with each push. He still applies some pressure to your throat, not cutting off the air supply completely, but enough for you to feel his rings digging into you. The tightening in your stomach increases, fluttering out slowly into your aching limbs until finally it snaps. You let out another desperate and loud moan to reverberate off of the walls of the bathroom, repeating praises around Su-bong’s name as if it was all you knew. You use your grip on the sinks to help you grind against his hand, to wring out every second of your climax.

“You’re so sexy,” Su-bong mutters in your ear, his deep voice sending another wave of pleasure through your body. He keeps working you with his fingers until your legs start to quake and you become overstimulated, so you grab his shirt with one hand, fisting it hard.

“Please,” you gasp. Su-bong slows down until he stops again, letting out a moan in your ear, as if he’s just as intoxicated from this moment as you are.

Su-bong grasps your hips with both hands, keeping you upright as you feel your legs turning to jelly. You lazily drag your eyes to his, watching his eyebrows raise in question — he’s checking on you again. You nod, and watch the way he brings his hand back to your throat to soothingly rub the marks that his rings left. In your heightened state, your heart skips a beat because who knew he was so fucking considerate.

“How about this…” Su-bong begins, stealing a quick kiss from you before he takes a few shuffled steps backwards towards the pile of clothes.

You watch him spread the clothes more evenly before he sits on top of his jacket and shoves his pants and briefs down to his ankles now. He grasps his cock, slowly stroking his hand over it a few times while he looks at you.

“If your pussy belongs to me, you can come over here and make this yours,” he nods his head to his lap. You realize that he could ask for you to do anything in that moment, and you’d do it without question.

You make your way over to him on shaky legs, and he notices quickly — he responds by extending his hand to you, which you happily accept. You step one foot over him and lower to your knees, straddling his waist and putting just enough pressure between your overly sensitive pussy and his length. Su-bong hums in satisfaction, pressing his hands to your hips to urge you to very softly grind against him.

“I used to think about this,” you whisper, your voice soft because maybe you’re afraid to admit it after all of the annoyance he gave you. “Fucking you.”

“Was it like this?”

“No,” you shake your head, your hands taking hold of his shirt and bunching it up around his ribs. “But I like this better.”

Su-bong lifts his arms up, allowing you to pull his shirt over his head and discard it. Placing your hands to his chest, you shove him to lay on his back, and use that pressure against his chest to help you grind yourself against him a little harder.

“Are you trying to come again?” he breathes, holding your hips, to steady you. All you can do is shake your head, but still you keep grinding, dragging yourself back and forth along his cock. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” he says, one hand sliding under your shirt to squeeze your breast.

You dig your nails into his stomach and the moan he lets rattle from his chest is gorgeous. He grabs your hips more firmly as if he’s torn between letting you continue and throwing you down and finishing himself off. You keep pushing him, scraping your nails along his chest until he finally cracks.

Su-bong guides your hips backwards enough for him to reach between your bodies and slide himself inside of you. You both moan together, and you drink in the way it feels to have him inside of you again, stretching you out.

“Go ahead, it’s yours,” Su-bong says, his voice strained. He takes his hands off of your hips and props them behind his head, letting you ride him as you see fit.

With your hands still on his chest, you start at a steady pace, but you know you won’t be able to take it for very long. The sound of your skin slapping together echoes through the room, mixing with your moans of his name and Su-bong’s heaving breaths. It drives you to move faster, rolling your hips so you can chase your fourth climax of the day.

Your limbs feel as though they are on fire, an ache resonating through your whole body but you couldn’t stop — you needed him. Faster and faster you move until your rhythm feels sloppy and you start to lose your steam. Su-bong, sensing this, sits up and wraps his arms around your waist holding your bodies together so he can help you move along with him.

You take the opportunity to kiss him, sloppy and wet because you couldn’t have it any other way. Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging on it as you pull him even closer to you. You find yourself moaning into his mouth as you feel another climax approaching. He growls in return, breaking the kiss and focusing on getting you off.

This time, when your climax hits, Su-bong fucks you through it, your entire body feeling like it was alight. You shake and moan and beg for something but you don’t know what. Your hands grab his back, nails digging in and clawing up his back; he fucking loves it as much as he loves when you pull his hair.

“Good girl, my good girl,” Su-bong groans.

He shoves you backwards so he’s on his knees while you are now on your back, the whole time keeping his length buried inside of you. He pins your legs to the floor and begins to fuck you again, harder and relentless. You feel yourself still shaking with the remnants of your previous orgasm that now begins to fade into yet another one when his fingers make contact with your clit.

Su-bong pistons his hips harder, driving himself deeper into you than you imagined possible until finally he reaches his own climax. You hold your hands around his waist, helping him along as he keeps driving into you. He moans your name, mixed with nonsensical mutters and needy groans as he fills you up with everything he has.

When he collapses on top of you, Su-bong bites your neck hard, and you can only whine out a raspy sound that you don’t even recognize belongs to you. With his body on top of yours, you can see his back, emblazoned with a tattoo of his own name, now covered in your scratch marks. The sight sends a chill through your body: you certainly made him yours.

“Someone will be in soon, I’m sure,” you whisper after you both stay silent for several minutes trying to catch your breath. You tighten your thighs and arms around his body, trying to get one more feel of him before he moves, and you feel his lips press to your neck where he had just left a deep bite.

“Hmm, you’re right.”

Slowly, Su-bong climbs off of you, taking care to make sure he doesn’t hurt you beyond what you already did. It takes you both several minutes to clean yourselves up to appear even remotely presentable, during which you steal a few glances at him to compare the marks you left on one another.

As you zip up your jacket, the last article of clothing you need to put on, you take another look at yourself in the mirror. You notice the distinct mark on your neck from where Su-bong’s hand gripped you earlier, along with the bite mark he left. You zip your jacket the whole way to cover your neck, just as you spot Su-bong’s reflection in the mirror. He stands several feet behind you, sizing you up with an unreadable expression on his face.

“What?” you ask. He locks eyes with you in the mirror.

“If we don’t make it out of here…” he trails off, leaving an uneasy feeling in the air that crashes you both back to the reality of your situation.

“Don’t think like that,” you say, turning to face him again. “We’ll get out of here and pay off our debts, then get back to our lives. We’ll forget all about this place.” You shift your weight between your feet and immediately feel the throbbing of pain in your body; you pull in a sharp breath in response. You can still feel him all over you.

“You’re going to forget about everything, hm?” he grins in response, crossing closer to you and tugging at the collar of your jacket to see the mark he left on your neck. ”My butterfly, always trying to fly away,” he teases. You smile in response, and bite your lip to try to hide it from him before you speak.

“I’m not flying this time. I’m running.”

“You’ll slow down one day,” he laughs. “Then I’ll find you, and I’ll reclaim my property.”

“Oh, I’m your property now, am I?” you grin. Being referred to as ‘property’ isn’t something you’d normally derive pleasure from, but with Su-bong…you fucking love it.

“Mhm,” he nods, taking hold of your hips carefully, so as not to aggravate the bruises he left there. “You might think that you’ll forget everything about this place, but you won’t forget about those five orgasms I just gave you.”

“Well,” you begin, tracing one of your fingers around the circle on the blue patch that is affixed to his jacket. “You’d better think about that when you walk up to that podium tomorrow, then. Because if I make it out of here without you…I’ll have to find someone who’ll get me off six times.”

You steal another kiss from him, this one deeper and more passionate than before. When you pull back, you see the smug smirk on Su-bong’s face, and this time, you match it. You shove him away from you playfully, and leave him alone in the bathroom with his thoughts.

As you slowly walk back to the dorm, you realize you can smell Su-bong all over you, feel him and taste him, as well. Your body aches with what he did to you, and you know he’s right: you won’t be able to stop thinking about him if you get out of this place. The way his voice sounded when he promised that he would find you makes your mind race with what else the two of you could do, but for now you can only hope that tomorrow, he presses the ‘X’.

[serickswrites]

would you do an alternate ending to “whumpee, the hostage”? where whumpee survives and caretaker gets to apologise to and comfort whumpee? pleaseeee

Hello, Anon! I think you are wanting a sequel to this piece? (At least I hope you are). Please enjoy!

Part 1

Warnings: hostage situation, gunshot, blood, wounds, bleeding out, temporary character death, cpr, hospital, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort, caretaker and whumpee

"WHUMPEE!" Caretaker screamed again as their knees gave out. "NOOOO!" They cried as the two uniformed officers held them. Caretaker clutched at their sleeves. "NO!" They were too late. They were right there. Whumpee was right there. They had failed.

Chaos erupted around Caretaker. Multiple shouts and gunshots rang out. People ran around Caretaker and into the bank. But it didn't matter. Caretaker had failed. Caretaker had failed when it had counted the most.

"GET EMS!" Someone shouted. "WE HAVE AN OFFICER DOWN!"

Officer down? Caretaker's head jerked up, their heart pounding. Did that mean?

"EMS STAT! OFFICER DOWN!" The voice repeated.

Caretaker didn't hesitate. They got up on wobbly legs and surged forward. No one stopped them from running into the bank, everyone was too distracted with managing the hostages and bank robbers. They froze as they saw several medics crouched around a prone figure. Whumpee.

"Pressure's dropping," one medic called out.

"I can't get the bleeding to stop." Another replied.

"We're losing them!"

Caretaker stumbled forward. Whumpee. This wasn't happening. Whumpee hadn't died. Whumpee couldn't die. "Whumpee," they said softly as they could finally see Whumpee's face.

Whumpee's features were slack, their face pale. They lay in a pool of their blood, surrounded by medics and other officers. Caretaker could see the bullet wound in their chest. Had the wound been any further to the left, Whumpee would have died instantly when they were shot. As it was, Caretaker wasn't sure how Whumpee was still alive.

"Starting compressions," the first medic said as they began to pump Whumpee's chest.

"Please, Whumpee," Caretaker whispered. "Please don't leave me."

"Give them space," someone said, grabbing Caretaker's arm.

"This is Whumpee's partner. Let them through," someone else said.

Caretaker suddenly found themself just outside the circle of medics, staring down at Whumpee's body. "Please, Whumpee, please don't leave me," they repeated.

"Gotcha!" The first medic said triumphantly. "Let's get them to the hospital before they crash again."

Caretaker was pulled along by one of the medics as the others raced Whumpee out the door. "You're their partner, right? Come with us. You can fill the hospital in on all the information they'll need."

The world felt like it had tilted on its axis and it was all Caretaker could do to keep upright. Some part of them distantly recognized that they were probably in shock, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that Whumpee stay alive.

Somehow, Caretaker found themself sitting at Whumpee's bedside hours later. Whumpee was alive. And would live. The sounds of the heart monitor was a comfort to Caretaker. Whumpee had died. And had nearly stayed dead. And would have died with the last thing Caretaker said to them being horrible.

"I'm sorry I said all those things to you, Whumpee," Caretaker whispered as they took Whumpee's hand in theirs. "I didn't mean it. I'm so sorry. You're not incompetent. You're brilliant. You're amazing. You're the most wonderful person I have ever met. And I was terrified to lose you. I am terrified to lose you.

"I'm terrified to lose you, Whumpee, because I love you. I love you so much. I love you so much and I haven't said anything in case you don't feel the same way. In case you don't love me. But," Caretaker's voice broke, "seeing you lying there on the floor, I realized I never said anything. And I couldn't stand the thought of you dying without knowing how loved you are. So, even if you don't feel the same way, Whumpee. I love you. With every fiber of my being."

Caretaker brushed Whumpee's bangs off their forehead. "And I realize that it's easy to say this while you're unconscious. But, I'll never stop saying this to you. I'll never stop telling you how precious to me you are. How much I need you. Because I love you.

"And so, love, I'll wait here as long as it takes for you to wake. Because I don't want to spend a moment away from you. Not when you were nearly ripped from me before I could tell you how much I love you."

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@pepeniascat @hostagesituations @whumperofworlds @swift-perseides @keeper-of-all-the-random-things

@edutainer2022

[yoiiyoii]

In honour of the birthday of Giyuu Tomioka the best character in demon slayer (to ME), I will use my free will to rant about the best Giyuu panels in the manga:

1.

Peak. Best of the best. Magnum opus of Demon Slayer manga. This specific moment is when my emotions reach the climax every single time I read the fight.

Giyuu and Tanjirou, one arm each, holding on to one sword, focus on the Rengoku sword hilt. Tanjirou being guided once again by the two hashiras he looks up to the most.

Once again, right after this, Tanjirou pushes Giyuu back and saves his life. A full circle, the lowest of the low for Giyuu, the highest of the highs of striking Muzan together.

Notice that Giyuu unlocked the red blade TWICE, once with Sanemi, his foil among the hashiras, and now with Tanjirou, the one he cherishes the most. Giyuu - always defined by his relationships. Giyuu as an individual character in a vacuum has very little to show. It's just another backstory, a traumatized hashira, just like the other demon slayers. Giyuu stands out in Demon Slayer because he is constantly present, he has developing relationships. The red blade is just another show for that. This panel does this theme of Giyuu justice too.

And, lore aside, the absolute HYPE of this scene. The long drawn fight, the hashiras with lost limbs all down, Sanemi and Obanai come in to attack Muzan and save Tanjirou, but oh-- where's Giyuu again? RIGHT HEREEEEE!!!!!!! LENDING A HAND TO TANJIROU, LITERALLY, AS HE ALWAYS HAS.

2.

Pretty self explanatory. Absolute badass, putting himself between an Uppermoon and someone he cares about, Tanjirou.

It goes into Giyuu's biggest theme of protection. He hates being protected, he wants to protect the people he loves (just like Akaza). He did not want to be a 'useless komainu' to Tanjirou. I don't know if it's stated explicitly but its obvious that Dead Calm was created so he would be able to protect himself without needing the help of others. His fight against Rui was a simpler version of this: protecting Tanjirou (though at the time he didn't recognize him), against Rui, whose whole theme was about wanting to be protected by a family, with elders fulfilling their role of protection.

Here Giyuu and Tanjirou were, dealing with the same theme again, and Giyuu going all out with wanting Tanjirou to survive. It's not that he's been silent about his love for Tanjirou, but this is where he explicitly declares wanting to protect him, in his own words (do NOT take a shot everytime you see the word "protect").

3.

Debating between this or the 4th panel, I chose this as the 3rd because this is MY post and I want to make top 3 posts all about him and Tanjirou.

And boyyyyyy is it about him and Tanjirou. He cant even sit up. Is it not insane to see him being THIS vulnerable?? in public???? Add to the fact that he knows Tanjirou's closer friends are right there in the same battlefield, and yet it was him who couldn't help but want to stay physically close to Tanjirou. If Tanjirou's death had been true, he'd be back at square 1, being useless, never strong enough (quite a recurring theme in Demon Slayer I must say).

Like, look, he's sobbing, he cried like three times during this whole DKT and death deal. When the inevitable Sunrise Countdown movie comes out, I personally would like to close my eyes and ears during this scene.

4.

I admit this could and should have been number 3. But that aside, the coolest panel in the manga award goes to... (to be fair, that can be debated, other panels are just as cool if not cooler for sure.)

Sanemi and Giyuu, peak relationship in Demon Slayer. This moment is the climax to all of the buildup since !!Sanemi's first appearance!! (you see how Giyuu was giving him a whole lot of side eye that scene?)

In a way Sanemi and Giyuu bring out some ~interesting~ emotions in eachother. Who else would Giyuu call a simpleton? Who else would Sanemi pick a fight with, simultaneously trying to understand them? When you go to the AU territory, that's a pretty hefty magnetic pull of a relationship, isn't it?

And this moment - as I said earlier, one of the red blades Giyuu achieved, it's with Sanemi! Sanemi trusted Giyuu with equal strength (as Kanao said that was necessary for a red blade strike), and we've seen them draw before, and that's the ONLY hashira vs hashira we saw! (well, ufotable added a whole bunch, and I'm thankful for that, but I do regard Gotouge's compact and limited version of the story higher. Gotouge thought that Sanemi vs Giyuu was the most important hashira sparring for the audience out of all of them, and for obvious reasons).

All of that, AND the panel calls back to that one picture of Sabito flying over Giyuu. Two of the rough dudes Giyuu has been associated with, which is a nice touch.

And heyyy that's the sword that Sanemi threw at Giyuu!! Which was a pretty important moment right before Giyuu explicitly called himself a hashira (contrasting with Tanjirou, where he stood merely as the protector, the senior, with no regard to their posts and hierarchies). Sanemi gave Giyuu some real good push this fight. Would have loved to see them on a mission together, but alas, Demon Slayer manga is pretty limited with what it shows.

5.

I don't have much to say. It's just cute, alright? Look at him all teeny tiny smiling about the prospect of being friends with Sanemi. What the hell. Why are you so cute. Look at Tanjirou sharing the same dumbass braincell. What's up with these two

Unranked honorary mentions:

10/10. More of 21 trio stupidness, please. And look at Giyuu's stupid face as if he didn't just insult Sanemi in front of everyone. OBANAI, HE DIDN'T EVEN SAY ANYTHING TO YOU-

His crow he's so attached to :,(. I would personally die for you Kanzaburou. And yeah, absolutely, Kanzaburou mistaking Tanjirou for Giyuu. They have the same essence I guess

MURATAAAAAAA and yes, while I do love this because of the whole Murata celebrity crush on Giyuu thing and all, I love how desperate Giyuu was the entire time to save Tanjirou, even in the middle of his own fight again MUZAN HIMSELF. And who better to take care of Tanjirou than Murata, someone who took care of him back when Sabito died? Connected bonds, alright. Sabito already helped Tanjirou with his journey back in Mt. Sagiri, he could also use someone else from Giyuu's past.

Post canon, all of it. The light in his eyes, his journey, he deserves all of the love and peace.

[frxstbyt]

Okay, so I actually wrote something for this— 🤓

Uh, TW/CW for animal death, vomiting and swearing.

“Where exactly are you taking me?” Dally asks as Two-Bit turns on the car’s ignition.

“We’s just goin’ for a drive, Dal,” Two-Bit answers, turning the radio on. “You’re always with Ponykid. I miss hanging out with my buddy,” he adds, smile faltering at he looks over at Dally.

Dally frowns slightly. “Oh,” he says. “Yeah, sorry about that.” His gaze lowers for a moment before flicking back up to Two-Bit. “I’ve just been kinda worried about him, y’know? After Johnny...” He stops, throat closing up. He turns his head away, not wanting Two-Bit to see the tears in the corners of his eyes.

Two-Bit’s chest tightens. He knew what Dally was going to say: “After Johnny died.” It’s been six months since his death and Dally was still struggling to accept that as fact. Hell, Two-Bit himself was too. The whole gang was still grieving. Ponyboy had it the worst; Two-Bit knows how close he’d been with Johnny, and it was hard watching the kid grieve. But, life goes on, and hopefully, some day, Ponyboy’d move on, too.

Two-Bit claps a hand on Dally’s broad shoulder, and the blond turns to face him. His eyes are glossy and rimmed-red slightly, but Two-Bit doesn’t dare to call it out. He’d rather keep his nose intact thankyouverymuch.

“Tell ya what,” he says, “let’s go over to Dairy Queen and pick up some lunch. I skipped breakfast and I’m about starved.”

Dally smirks. “Your mama forget to go grocery shoppin’ yesterday?” he teases.

“No,” Two-Bit says, “I woke up late, s’all.” He puts the car in reverse and starts backing up. The car bounces a bit, startling both young men. Two-Bit stops the car, a bewildered look on his face as Dally peers out the window. “Dang, I didn’t know Darry installed a speedbump!” Two-Bit laughs, slapping the steering wheel with both hands.

“THAT WASN’T A SPEEDBUMP, YOU CHICKEN FRIED FUCK,” Dally bellows, whipping his head around. His eyes are huge and his face is whiter than his hair. “THAT WAS MY CAT!”

Two-Bit stares, horrified.

Uh oh...

                                                           ─────

The veterinarian holds Dally’s hair back as he dry heaves into the trash can (again), rubbing his back soothingly with their other hand. They look up when they hear Two-Bit murmer, “Jesus Christ...”

Two-Bit sits in one of the room’s plastic chairs, hunched over with his head in his hands. He still can’t believe what he’s done. He’s killed Dally’s cat. Well, kind of. The cat was still alive when they rushed him to the vet’s office, hoping that there was a chance to save him—a slim chance, but a chance nonetheless. But the damage had been done, the feline’s injuries too severe to salvage, and the doctors had no choice but to put him out of his misery.

Two-Bit glances up as Dally finishes dry heaving, the vet wiping the vomit from his lips with a tissue before the blond crashes down onto the floor, face-first, sobbing loudly. The vet gives him a soft, sad, empathetic look before tossing the tissue into the trash can, standing up and walking over to Two-Bit.

“Let’s get him somewhere more comfortable,” the man says quietly, gesturing to Dally. “I don’t want him scaring anyone and their pets.”

Two-Bit nods, pushing himself to his feet and making his way over to the weeping blond. He kneels down and rests a hand on his shoulder. “Dally,” he whispers, “let’s get outta here. There ain’t no reason to be here any longer than we need to be.”

Dally lifts his head up slightly, blinking at Two-Bit through the thick tears that cloud his vision. He looks down and gives the slightest hint of a nod, sniffling.

Two-Bit blinks away his own tears. “C’mon,” he says as he and the veterinarian struggle to lift Dally to his feet, “I’ll bring ya home.”

                                                           ─────

“YOU WHAT?”

Steve stares at Two-Bit, horrifed, as Two-Bit nods. “Yeah. I...” He pauses for a moment, then sighs heavily. “I ran ‘im over in the driveway and the vet had to put him down,” he explains, rubbing the back of his neck.

Sodapop gapes at him. “Oh my god...” he breathes, pressing a hand over his heart. “I can’t imagine how Dal must be feeling.” His brown eyes soften and well up. He sniffs, blinking back tears.

“God, that’s horrible,” Darry mumbles, still holding the newspaper he’d been reading before Two-Bit walked in. “But I’m sure Dally’ll forgive you some day. It was an accident, after all.”

Two-Bit scoffed. “If Dally ever did forgive me for killin’ his cat, I’d die of shock.”

“Wait,” Ponyboy says, lowering his book, green eyes wide as he turns to Two-Bit, “it was his cat? Like, he actually adopted it?”

Two-Bit nods.

Ponyboy stares at him for a while, then snorts. “He ain’t ever gonna forgive you,” he says, turning back to his book. “You’re fucked.”

“Big time,” Two-Bit agrees. He sighs again and presses the heels of his hands over his eyes. “What am I gonna do? Dally hates me now.”

“He hates you even more,” Ponyboy points out without looking up from his book.

“Pony,” Darry says sternly, narrowing his eyes at him. His gaze moves over to Two-Bit, softening. “He’ll forgive you some day, Two. I know he will.”

Two-Bit groans, flopping back into the couch cushions, an arm thrown over his eyes. “Can we change the subject?”

“Sure thing, bud,” Steve pipes up, shuffling the cards in his hands. “You wanna play a round’a poker?”

Two-Bit peeks at him under his arm. “Yeah, why not?” He sits up and slides off the couch to sit on the floor in front of the table across from Steve. Steve shuffles the cards one last time before distributing them.

“Count me in, too!” Sodapop chimes, plopping down in between them. Steve rolls his eyes and flicks a card at his nose, grinning when Soda blurts out, “Hey!”

Two-Bit rolls his eyes and looks down at the cards in his hand as Soda and Steve start wrestling around on the floor. (Sodapop must’ve been sneaking the ace into his sock again and Steve caught him in the act.) His mind strays over to Dally, but he shakes it off after a moment. He can talk to Dal tomorrow.

The ending SUCKS, but I ain’t changin’ it. Ù-Ú

Hope you liked it, lol.

TWO-BIT: *pulls out of the driveway*

*car bounces*

TWO-BIT: SPEEDBUMP!

DALLAS: THAT WAS MY CAT.

[gunnersling]

Red hills west of Valentine

Arthur Morgan x F!reader

Wc - 1.8k | cws - mild BH | sfw | synopsis - after being orphaned at a young age you’re forced to grow up quickly. Many years later as a gun for hire you come across an old acquaintance, things don’t pick up where they left off | part 1 of ?

Standing in the underbelly of a blazing fire is a feeling unmatched.

Your mother told you when you were very young that Hell is a place where sinners go. It’s an eternity of hellfire and flame. Of burning pain and never ending suffering in a blazing inferno. When you would take God’s name in vain or bicker with the other children out in the school yard- your mother would warn you of what could await you if you weren’t more careful and kind.

She’d ask you to behave and tell you to show kindness to those around you. You’d been too young to understand, to fully weigh up the heaviness of her words and the meaning behind them. When she’d tuck you into bed at night she’d tell you to pray with her- and you would. She’d pray for good health and a long happy life for the two of you together.

And now- now you’re watching as her eyes melt out of her skull. You’re frozen in fear. Paralysed by the horror that is unfolding right in front of you. Her charred body lies at the bottom of the stairs. You would have to step over her oozing body to get out of the front door. To get to safety. You see where her skin is melting down into the floorboards and you can smell the way her hair is singed off along with the very flesh from her bones.

It makes you sick- physically. You retch and vomit down the stairs. It stains the front of your nightdress and dribbles down your chin. You scream. You cry out. It’s a hoarse smoke-infiltrated sound that rips through you like a crack of thunder. Everything burns around you. Memories captured in photo frames. Heirlooms passed from one generation to the next. The family dog, Scout. Your mother. Everything is gone.

You were only twelve years old.

17 years later

The deers wide eyes stare up at you, round and dark like fat copper pennies, and yet, the rest of his body lays across the other side of the dirt road.

It’s hardly an odd sight, not in these parts. Wilder than most places, not yet gentrified by the ways of the modern folk that have flocked here from the big cities out East to get a taste of the country.

These parts still uphold those values of tradition. Small wooden houses and candlelit windowsills. Crops grown in the soil behind those houses, living off of their own little claims of land - self sufficient and cut off from any need of civilisation. A tiny wired chicken coop and a pig or two, what more could anyone need?

They’d raise families and pass on these traditional values. Little babes homeschooled with what little their mothers know of reading and writing, if it’s anything at all. They won’t need that, not really, much more important to learn to milk the cows and bake bread that doesn’t cement itself to everything it comes into contact with instead.

It’s an idealistic idea. Not at all on par with the ill stricken reality of droughts and locust plagues, balanced with a violent crime streak that only brings about death and blood and bullets.

It’s any surprise it isn’t a persons severed head you’re staring at - it wouldn’t be the first time. Maimed corpses lying strewn near roads, unclear whether or not it’s man or beast who had left them there. As unclear as to which is worse, the man or the beast, you know for a fact which you would prefer to maul you to death.

Alas, you press your spurs into your horses side, ushering him forward. He tosses his head, unsettled by the scent of death that lingers just under his nose. Big and brave as your horse is, it’s been a long journey and he’s as ready for rest as you are.

Real rest, a few days to recover and recuperate after the harsh sandstorms and dwindling supplies that’s cursed the pair of you for the last few days of your journey.

It’s late into the evening when you reach the edge of town. Dusk is encroaching into darkness, a balmy dusting of orange is barely visible as it tries its best to peak through the clouds. You smell rain, the way it’s stirring in the breeze. That earthy scent that spikes the air, warm and damp and humid.

As you ride further into town you pass a huge wooden sign that’s staked into the ground. Welcome to Valentine it reads. You cast your eyes over it, over the worn paint that’s chipping away and the weeds that try desperately to climb their way up from where the sign is pierced into the dirt.

It sets a precedent of your expectations for this town. Sitting in the cavity of a wide valley, framed by vast unmoving mountains- it looks like something plucked out of a fantasy tale. A sanctuary of sorts, from the outside looking in, it comes across quaint and simple.

Yet, from the chipped sign to the distant hum of shouts from the nearby saloon, you can tell Valentine will be just as any town you’ve passed through before has been. Carnal. Unforgiving. Uncaring in the way that some folk will attempt to rob you at knife point for the coins and crackers in your saddle bag and others will beg for dollars that won’t buy them food but beer and smokes instead.

All these towns are the same. Left behind, compared to the simple settler life that those who had fled to the West had once known - these towns are just as wild and dangerous as the open plains and deep forests. Beyond wolves and bears there are instead bandits and outlaws, monsters that are much more frightening than the ones with inches of fangs and claws.

You supposed you’d have to be the judge, with only a few days rest here in Valentine before you move on again - what’s the worst that could happen?

Valentine yields no surprises. Gutless locals who sneer when you pass by and little more to do than drink yourself into an early night at the saloon or stand staring at the empty bounty post-board for longer than is necessary. Again - it’s much the same as most of the towns around these parts.

You’d hoped that there would at least be a bounty or two to line your pocket while this way on. It’s another weeks journey to Saint Denis and there’s only one more rest stop between here and there where you can actually resupply and sleep in a real bed. It would have been ideal to gather some coin, then you could at least trade with other travellers if you needed more provisions before reaching the next town.

With lack of much else more to do, you find yourself at the saloon. There’s too much noise.

The shrill noise of the piano fills your ears and it’s grating, only worsened by the fact that every drunken idiot inside feels the need to sing and dance along to its upbeat tune. The men spin the women in circles and then they turn and go the other way. It feels like it lasts forever. Ladies shriek when they’re dipped low by their dance partners, laughing so loud it feels like it pierces right through your skull.

While one end of the bar delivers the commotion of music and laughter, the other brings the ruckus of a fight that’s brewing. Two men shouting at one another over by the poker table. Their exchange isn’t coherent enough for you to understand or hear from where you’re sat sloped at the bar, but whatever it is apparently warrants getting physical. They launch themselves at each other.

The bigger man out of the two of them, to no one’s surprise, quickly gets the upper hand, pinning the other man to the floor by the front of his waistcoat. Soon they’re merely rolling around brawling on the floor like schoolboys fighting over a wooden toy, it’s clear there is no real malice to this argument. Simply too much booze and testosterone in too close of a closed space.

You groan and press your glass to your forehead in hopes it might provide some relief to the headache you can feel starting to form. It swells behind your eyes. The pressure building until it feels like your head will explode.

The fight spills outside, voices whoop and cheer and shout at all of the commotion, but you stay readily rooted to your stool at the bar. You aren’t interested in watching grown men wrestle half-heartedly with each other, a bullet would have solved everything by now but it’s clear neither of them have the sand for that.

Suddenly, a gunshot does in fact ring out.

You pull your glass from your forehead and crane your neck toward the echoing sound. Silence has fallen outside. It’s dead - even the shrill piano has stopped.

It’s with caution that a number of you step out into the night, the short swinging doors creaking as they sway back and forth. As you make your way down the steps everything becomes clearer, one of the men who had been fighting inside is now dead. Shot between the eyes and laid out in the dirt street. Blood pools around him and those that are close can only stare in silence. Violence and murder isn’t foreign to these parts but so blatantly and for reasons unknown is what’s shocking.

The perpetrator is long gone, even in the few seconds it had taken for witnesses of the shooting to make their way from inside.

You scan your surroundings, trying to make head or tail of this. Looking for any clue as to what could have provoked such a thing. There had been no audible argument or interaction, no drunken misunderstanding of stumbling into someone’s path or looking at them the wrong way - none of that.

There’s a long span of silence. Someone had run to get the sheriff, but still, they hadn’t uttered a word and instead made off in the direction of his office on foot.

The earth is wet beneath your boots. Sloppy mud stuck beneath the heels, it feels like you’re being pulled deeper. Something shifts in the air and your intuition pulls your gaze toward a woman standing on the other side of the dirt road. Tears well in her eyes and her breaths come in quick succession. She looks frightened, pale in the face and mouth gaped as she senses your stare. Something goes unsaid between you, an understanding maybe.

She doesn’t shake your gaze. Instead you watch as her wobbly eyes look from you and then toward the sheriff as he jogs toward the scene. She tightens her lips before she finally speaks.

“It was the man from the poster sheriff” her voice is stiff and you watch as the sheriff digests her words.

“Which damn one?” He barks, brows folding into a harsh glare.

She swallows. You watch her throat bobble. “The one them Pinkertons came lookin’ for”

Realisation hits you like a train and those two words slip from your lips far too quickly.

“Arthur Morgan”

[nameless-jamie]

AAAAA I ABSOLUTELY LOVED NICE GUY! I'M OBSESSED WITH JEALOUS JAMIE!!! Can you write one where PA's old client (or some new footballer whatever you prefer) tries to steal her and he and Jamie have it out on the pitch during a match? I'd love if the team teased him after since "he's not a jealous type" and PA tells him she wouldn't leave him to calm him? Thanksssss!

Red Card Part 2

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, suggestive scenes, angry Jamie

A/N: Hi, I'm so glad you liked A Nice Guy. You're idea fits so well with a ff I posted yesterday called Red Cards, about an angry Y/N, so I basically was obsessed with the idea of making this part two (They both finally realize they are in love with each other) It doesn't really fit with the OG Ted Lasso timeline but idc. I wrote this all through the night (in my timezone lol) hope you like it!!!!

Y/N had worked with a few big names before Jamie Tartt.

She’d been in this business long enough to handle all kinds of footballers—prima donnas, workaholics, egomaniacs. Some had been a nightmare to deal with. Some had been decent, if a little demanding. And then there was Jamie, who was all of the above and yet still her favorite.

He could be a pain in the ass, sure—stubborn, dramatic, ridiculously high-maintenance—but he was also loyal, hilarious in the most unintentional ways, and, despite all his posturing, genuinely cared about the people close to him.

So yeah, she’d had other clients before him. But there was no one like Jamie.

And she sure as hell wasn’t planning on working for anyone else ever again.

Apparently, Declan Rice, a former client of hers hadn’t gotten that memo.

They’d worked together briefly during his last season at West Ham, before he transferred to Arsenal. He’d been an alright client—organized, professional, a little too flirty at times but never crossed the line. It had been strictly business.

She hadn’t thought much about him since.

Until now.

She spotted him during warm-ups at Arsenal’s home stadium, the Emirates, standing near the center circle with his teammates, rolling his shoulders and stretching before the match. He looked the same as he had when she’d worked for him—tall, confident, the picture of professionalism with his neatly styled hair and focused expression. But when his eyes landed on her, something sharp flickered in them, and he abandoned his warm-up, striding over toward the Richmond dugout where she stood with Ted, Roy, and Beard.

Jamie was further down the touchline, stretching with the rest of the Richmond squad, blissfully unaware.

Declan stopped beside her, giving her a slow once-over, an easy smirk curling his lips. “Hi Y/N, you still working for Tartt, then?”

Y/N crossed her arms, instantly on guard. “That a problem, Declan?”

He hummed. “Not a problem. Just surprised.” He gestured toward the Richmond crest on her jacket. “Thought someone like you would’ve moved on to bigger things by now.”

Ted let out a low whistle, rocking back on his heels. “Oof. Boy’s got a death wish.”

Beard just grunted while Roy muttered something profane under his breath that sounded like 'Fucking idiot'.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Declan didn’t seem fazed by her sharp tone. If anything, his smirk deepened. “Fair enough. But if you ever do wanna make a change and maybe work for a good player…” He winked. “You know where to find me.”

That was when Jamie’s head snapped up.

He hadn’t been paying much attention before, too focused on his own pre-game rituals, but the moment Declan winked, Jamie’s entire body went rigid. His gaze flickered between them, jaw tightening, his usually relaxed expression darkening into something unreadable.

Roy smirked. “Havin’ fun over there, Tartt?”

Jamie scowled. “Piss off, Roy.”

Ted just chuckled a little uneasy.

Jamie shot Declan a glare but said nothing, turning abruptly and jogging onto the pitch.

Y/N sighed, rubbing her temples. “This is gonna be a long match.”

From the very first whistle, Jamie was not himself.

Jamie tried to be professional.

He really, really did.

Normally, he played with fluid confidence, always a step ahead, making quick, clever passes and effortlessly weaving through defenders. But tonight? He was aggressive.

Every movement was sharp, every tackle a fraction too hard, every sprint laced with frustration. And the reason why was obvious.

Declan was everywhere.

Shoving him during corners. Smirking when he won possession. Blocking his runs just enough to be irritating but not enough to get penalized. And worst of all—glancing toward the sidelines where Y/N stood every chance he fucking got, as if reminding Jamie exactly who had his attention before the game started.

Jamie gritted his teeth, jaw aching from how hard he was clenching it. Fine. If Declan wanted to play dirty, Jamie wouldn’t hold back.

He slammed into him harder than necessary while fighting for the ball, sending Declan stumbling.

The ref blew his whistle immediately.

“Tartt, easy!” the ref warned.

Jamie didn’t respond. He just glared at Declan, stepping in close enough that their shoulders brushed.

Declan smirked, voice low. “Touchy, mate.”

Jamie glared at Declan. “Stay the fuck away from her.”

Declan smirked. “Didn’t know you owned her, mate.”

Jamie shoved him.

The ref immediately pulled out a yellow card.

Roy was already shouting from the sidelines. “Fucking hell, Jamie!”

Ted sighed. “Yeah, saw that one coming.”

Y/N closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Jamie knew he had to keep his cool. One more reckless move, and he’d be off. But then—Declan took it too far.

It happened in the 78th minute.

Richmond was down 2-1. They had a free kick just outside the box, a perfect opportunity to equalize. Jamie stepped up to take it, rolling his shoulders, focusing. He needed to block everything else out.

“Dunno what she sees in you, mate. Could give her a better offer, yeah?" Declan tried to rile Jamie up.

Jamie was good at ignoring his antics... at first.

And then—just as he was about to position himself—Declan leaned in, voice just loud enough for Jamie to hear:

"You know, she was the best assistant I ever had. Kept me real satisfied.”

Jamie’s blood froze.

Declan smirked. “Might have to steal her back. Think I’d enjoy breaking her in all over again.”

Jamie snapped.

There was no thought. No hesitation. Just pure, burning rage.

He swung his leg—not at the ball, but at Declan’s ankle.

Declan went crashing down, clutching his leg, rolling like he’d been shot.

The whistle shrieked.

The ref stormed over, fury in his eyes.

“TARTT—OFF!”

The red card flashed in the air.

The Richmond fans groaned in unison.

Jamie barely registered it, still seeing red. His breathing was ragged, chest heaving, his entire body wound so tight it felt like he might explode.

Declan, still on the ground, looked up at him with a satisfied smirk, while another Arsenal player pushed Jamie towards the exit saying “Real mature, mate.”.

Jamie didn’t even care, he didn’t even argue. Just shot Declan a venomous glare as he stomped off.

The moment Jamie reached the sidelines, Roy exploded.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!”

Ted sighed. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”

Beard just shook his head.

Y/N stood there, arms crossed. “Seriously, Jamie?”

Jamie exhaled sharply. “He was chatin’ shit.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “And that was worth getting sent off for?”

Jamie scowled. “Maybe.”

Her expression softened slightly. “What did he even say?”

Jamie hesitated. His fingers twitched at his sides. “Nothin’.”

She knew that wasn’t true. But she also knew Jamie, knew that whatever Declan had said had gotten under his skin badly.

Y/N exhaled. “We were losing. We needed you.”

Jamie hesitated. “Yeah, but—”

“No buts,” she shot back. “You let him get in your head.”

Jamie scowled. “Did not.”

Y/N just looked at him.

Later, when the match was over and the team was back in the locker room, the teasing began.

Richmond still managed to equalize in the final minutes, saving the match.

But Jamie’s red card? That was all the team wanted to talk about.

“Not jealous, huh Jamie?” Sam grinned.

“Proper alpha male moment,” Isaac added.

Colin smirked. “Never seen you so territorial, mate.”

Jamie groaned. “Piss off.”

Ted just patted his shoulder. “Jealousy’s a hell of a drug, son.”

Jamie grumbled under his breath before heading toward the physio room, where Y/N was waiting.

She turned when he entered, arms crossed. “You know you’re an idiot, right?”

Jamie sighed, rubbing his face. “Yeah, yeah.”

Y/N softened. “Why’d you let him get to you?”

Jamie hesitated. “…Dunno.”

She stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. “Jamie.”

He exhaled. “Just—don’t like the idea of someone takin’ you away, yeah?”

Y/N blinked.

Then—softly, with a teasing smile she said. “You do realize I’m not a football transfer, right?”

Jamie rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

She smirked. “So you don’t own me?”

Jamie groaned. “Fucking hell.”

Y/N laughed. “Fuck, you really are an idiot.”

Jamie leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. “Yeah, but I’m your idiot boss, so watch out.”

She flushed. “Shut up.”

He smirked. “Make me.”

She rolled her eyes. “You wish... Still not jealous, though?”

Jamie groaned again, dragging a hand down his face. “Well, now I hate you.”

She grinned. “No, you don’t.”

Jamie just pulled her closer into a tight hug.

Maybe he was the jealous type.

And maybe—just maybe—he didn’t mind, because he loves her...

[crowsofdarkness]

Who Are You?: Chapter One

-gif not mine. credit to owner.-

Pairings: The Winter Soldier: Bucky Barnes x Agent Fallen x The Crow: Eric Draven

Content Warnings: angst, violence, kidnapping, death, language, smut that will include unprotected pinv, oral with male and female receiving, fingering, hand jobs, voyeurism, public sex, double penetration, semi-rough sex, spanking, sharing of partners(m/f/m).

Summary: Agent Fallen was looking for a ghost, her ghost. With direct orders to shoot on sight to anyone who stands in her way, she soon finds herself at a crossroads when facing another ghost. The Crow. As they work together to find The Winter Soldier, Fallen and Eric Draven have to also work out their complicated relationship with each other.

Authors Note: this series is not canon to any of the Marvel movies, besides a few details. this will be a reverse harem/why chose series which means the FMC is with both MMCs, never choosing between the two. there will be moments where Eric and Bucky share Fallen. updates will be slow for this one. Tags are open!

Tags: @that-blonde-girl @bookofriverr @starfly-nicole

-i have my permanent bucky tags on this. if you're not interested in this story because of Eric Draven, no worries! let me know and I can take you off this story-

The snow beneath my boots crunch as I trudged farther along the darkened path, the setting sun disappearing behind the mountains in the horizon. My suit stuck to my like a second skin, the leather doing nothing to keep me warm due to my heated blood. Thanks to my powers, my blood always ran hot so while it was nearing -39 degrees celsius on Mountain Pik Podeba in Siberia, I felt sweat gather at the back of my neck. It had been an incredibly difficult trek yet I continued to push through, never giving up. 

It wasn’t in my nature to which is why SHIELD hired me. 

Did they hire you or felt pity for you when they found you on another cold mountain side and saved your life eight years ago? 

Shaking the thought from my mind, not daring to think about the past, I thought about the mission instead. My boss, Agent Fury, set down an extra classified folder on my desk a few days ago with one demand: keep it between us. 

As soon as I opened the folder, I immediately knew why we needed to keep it between us. Fury was the only one in SHIELD that knew about my past and where I came from since he was the one that found me eight years ago. If anyone inside of SHIELD found out about where that was, I’d be outcasted and probably arrested. While everyone at headquarters thought I was away on vacation, I was actually up in the mountains in Russia, looking for a ghost. 

The Winter Soldier. 

There had been rumors he’d gone rouge from Hydra a few years ago, killing everyone that had a hand in creating him. Fury had been keeping a watchful and good eye on The Winter Soldier to see if he had me in his sights. It was fine until last year when the list started to dwindle down to only three names left. 

One random guard. 

Dimitri. 

The last name on The Winter Soldiers list was only three letters, almost as if he couldn’t remember the entirety of it. But Fury knew and when I saw a copy of the list, I knew as well. 

When I read that all too familiar name back in my office the other day, all of the oxygen was stolen from my lungs as my past reared its ugly head. I hadn’t come face to face with The Winter Soldier in nearly eight years when Hydra literally tossed me out into the snow, broken and defeated. Just before one of the Hydra guards shut the door, I saw those dark eyes watch me over the guards shoulder, not bothering to stop them. 

“Soldat,” I cried out, as the flames dissipated from my hands; the fight for my survival was long gone. 

Everyone who didn’t know him called him The Winter Soldier, I called him Soldat during my time in Hydra. He was the one who trained me, made me who I am. But once one of the guards found Soldat and I in bed together, our leader Dimitri ordered my removal from the compound. I was shunned and left to die on the side of the mountain by the people I thought I had a home with all because I fell in love with another one of their other puppets. 

Dimitri was stern in his orders, never wanting Soldat and I to stray too far from our orders of death and destruction. So when he got word of our private affairs, it was clear who would be shunned. The Winter Soldier was Hydra’s most prized soldier and weapon meanwhile I was their project gone wrong; the one who couldn’t be controlled. 

Along with the love and memories of Soldat, I buried that part of me deep within me, never letting Căzut out again. I had a name when I was younger, something I couldn’t remember so Soldat was the one that gave me my name the first night I arrived at the Hydra compound, afraid. 

“Căzut,” a metal thumb lifted my chin as I knelt before him, causing me to look up at him. “You may have fallen but you will rise again.” 

So when Fury found me eight years ago wandering on the Russian mountain side and asked me for my name, I gave him the only one I had. 

Fallen. 

Breaking over the horizon, I could vaguely make out a wooden home about 15 feet west and let out a small breath of relief. To others that ventured up on this side of the mountain they might have thought it odd for a small house to be placed in the middle of nowhere. But us at SHIELD knew what it was. 

A safe house. 

This one specifically was off the map  because it was Fury’s own safe house, one he didn’t want anyone to know of. The only reason why I knew about it was because he’d brought me here eight years ago. 

“I’m fucking starved,” I grumbled under my breath as I stepped through a large mound of snow, the heat seeping through my boot melting it almost instantly. 

Fury mentioned that the wood burning stove in the house didn’t work but when I snapped my fingers, bringing fire to them, I reminded him that warmth shouldn’t be an issue for me. 

After gaining access inside with my thumb print to the front door,  I took the first step inside of the house yet immediately froze because something felt off; wrong. There was a shift in the air that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It wasn’t the chill of the house that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. It was the feeling that eyes were watching me. Softly letting my bag fall to the floor, I reached for the knife in the side pocket of my tac suit and when my fingers grazed over the handle, a sharp kick landed to the back of my knee. I fell to the aged hardwood floor with a thud, quickly spinning around on my knees to look at who managed to attack me. Expecting to meet a pair of eyes, I was met with a long blade from a katana sword, the tip pressed to my neck. 

I followed up the length of it up to a hand covered in tattoos, recognizing one of them immediately. Snapping my gaze up, I met a pair of soulless eyes already pinning me in place and sucked in a breath. 

No fucking way. It’s true. 

“How the fuck did you get inside?” I asked, doing my best to keep my tone calm since he was the one with the blade pressed to my throat. 

The man, who stood tall over me at atleast six feet, cocked his head to the side. His face was covered underneath a mask from the nose down, showcasing those dark eyes as they assessed me. Those same eyes were blanketed in some kind of black paint. A few small strands of hair fell into his eyes but he made no move to brush them away. He was glad in all black, except for his hands that showcased all of the ink. 

Everyone in SHIELD thought The Winter Soldier was the ghost but they were all wrong. The man standing in front of me was an even bigger ghost. He was a rumor that no one seemed to have any proof of. I only knew of him from what I’ve read in his very skim folder which only had two things; his name and the picture of one of his tattoos. 

The Crow and the tattoo of a crow on the outside of his hand. The same one I was staring at right now. 

“You’re real,” I muttered. 

He remained silent yet pressed the tip of the blade harder against my throat causing me to kneel straighter while holding my hands out to my sides showing him I was unarmed. 

“I’m really at your mercy right now,” I flicked my gaze to the sword. “All it would take is a simple flick of your wrist and you’d hit one of my arteries, making me bleed out on the floor in seconds. I can tell you right now, I have no intention of dying today.” 

The Crow didn’t seem to believe me because he motioned to the weapons on my tac suit with a silent order. 

Remove them. 

Biting back a curse, I slowly removed the gun and knives from all of the pockets before sliding them over to his combat boots. 

“Are you going to tell me how you broke into a SHIELD safe house?” I asked. 

Yet again, he didn’t speak as he kicked my weapons across the floor, them skidding down the hall towards the kitchen. 

“I have orders to kill anyone that stands in the way of my current mission,” I said while shaking out my fingers, not yet bringing the fire forth. 

“I’d like to see you try,” The Crow chuckled darkly. 

I nearly fell to my ass at his voice, how deep and rich it was, but maintained my composure. 

“So you do speak,” I teased with a smirk. “Here I thought Hydra cut out your tongue.” 

His eyes snapped away from the exposed top of my breasts in my suit thanks to the zipper being down a bit and his jaw ticked. Victory surged through me when I found the answer to a question a lot of us were wondering. If The Crow was Hydra or not. 

“So it is true,” I continued on, puffing out my chest when I caught him staring again. 

Even if he was this top secret Hydra weapon, he was still a man and men have certain weaknesses.

“Let me guess. Hydra got bored with their main weapon and decided to create another?”

“You know Hydra?” The Crow asked me, the grip on his katana never faltering as the tip was still pressed to my throat. 

“You’re looking at one of their failed projects,” I sighed. 

He snickered. “What’s so special about you?” 

He’s fucking rude. 

With a snap, I brought forth the fire to my fingers which made him take a step back, letting the blade of his sword fall away from my neck. With the new found opportunity, I kicked my feet out to trip The Crow and he clambered to the ground. 

I looked back down the hallway where he kicked my weapons moments ago, ready to crawl my way towards them only to have my ankle grabbed and yanked into the living room. The Crow and I scuffled for a few moments, me trying to rip off his mask which caused him to slam his forehead on mine, nearly making me succumb to darkness. 

Super soldier strength? Check. 

While I had my own strength thanks to the serum running through me, it wasn’t anything compared to his. I sent a knee into his groin which made him double over in pain, giving me a few seconds to scurry away from him. Quickly rising to my feet, I threw a fireball at him only for him to grab his sword, blocking it. I watched in horror as the fire fell to ash at his feet. 

“What the fuck is your katana made out of?!” I demanded right before The Crow ran towards me, pushing me against the wall. 

His thick arm pressed into my throat, cutting off my breathing almost instantly. My feet dangled in the air slightly as I clawed at the material of his jacket, doing whatever I could to get him off of me. 

“Just like I thought. Pathetic,” he sneered, face inches from mine. 

His mask had slipped in our scuffle and it was then I got a good look at his entire face, lingering over his plump lips. Somehow without his mask, it seemed to accentuate the black paint around his eyes. 

He was gorgeous. 

Focus, you idiot! He’s going to kill you!

“Thank god you don’t have a metal arm,” I muttered under my breath as I tried to fight against him. 

The Crow’s grip around my throat faltered only for a moment as his face twitched but then he pressed his hips deeper into mine to pin me fully against the wall. Through his cargo pants, the outline of his cock against my pussy and my eyes doubled in size when I felt how hard he was, letting a moan slip quietly. 

“Is this turning you on?” I teased. 

His eyes narrowed as he pressed himself harder against me. “Says the one who just moaned.”

Curse his super soldier hearing.

“Can’t help but like what I see,” I did my best to shrug while still being pinned to the wall. 

The Crow eyes casted down to my breasts, lingering over the sweat that gathered there and all too quickly, his tongue darted out to wet his lips. 

“I could say the same thing about you.” 

His gaze flicked up to me as he pressed his arm tighter against my throat. “I have no desire other than to kill.” 

“Hydra program you to say that? Because your dick pressing against me says otherwise,” I tossed back. 

“You’re insufferable you know that,” he sneered while tossing me to the floor and I sucked in a giant breath, feeling the life return. 

“You can thank Hydra for that,” I choked on a breath before rising to my knees and glancing over at him. 

He had placed his sword back into its sheath and set it on the back of the couch then turned to face me with narrowed eyes. I was growing tired of this look. 

“What are you doing here?” The Crow asked. 

I snorted while slowly standing and rested my hands on my hips. “I should be asking you that. You’re in my safe house, which I’m still wondering how the fuck you got in without my thumb print.” 

“You left the window unlocked,” he pointed to the window in the living room. 

Damn it, Fury. 

Running a hand through my red hair, I let out a long breath and stood in front of The Crow as he sat against the back of the couch, his long legs outstretched. 

I squinted my eyes at him when I realized something. “Why didn’t you kill me just now? You had the chance more than once.” 

Something flickered in those eyes but his face remained like stone. “You said something about Hydra programming me. How would you know that?” 

I brought forth the fire again, letting it dance inside my palm as I manipulated it with the air around me. A party trick is what I liked to call it. 

“Like I said, Hydra created this. They kept me captive for years and the second I disobeyed one of their orders, they tossed me to the side as if I was nothing,” I closed my fist to put the fire out. 

“So you’re not with Hydra anymore?” The Crow asked. 

I shook my head, not completely sure why he was suddenly not trying to attack me anymore, but what shocked me the most was how comfortable I felt opening up to him.

“You mentioned something about a metal arm,” he said while crossing his arms over his chest. 

I swallowed thickly, not knowing where the conversation was headed now. “Your point?” 

The Crow shook off his jacket, letting it fall to the couch behind him. “Was The Winter Soldier before or after your time with Hydra?” 

“During,” I informed while shifting on my feet. “He’s the one that trained me.” 

“No offense but he did a shitty job.”

I shot him with a glare, feeling protective over Soldat after all these years because the love I had for him still lingering. “Fuck you.” 

The Crow eyes drank me in from head to toe before resting back on my lips. “Tempting but I have other orders.”

“Care to tell me what those orders are? Because I’m still curious on how you found this SHIELD safe house?” 

“This is SHIELD? Here I thought they would put you up in a mansion or some shit,” he snickered. 

“Well,” I kicked my bag in the air and caught it. “This has been so much fucking fun but I have plans. Please let the door hit you on the way out.” 

I made it all of two steps towards the staircase, ready for a shower and food while I went over my notes on Soldat when a voice stopped me. 

“Do these plans have anything to do with The Winter Soldier?” 

Turning swiftly on my heels, I glared at The Crow. “Excuse me?” 

He threw a thumb over his shoulder towards the laptop on the coffee table behind him. “I hacked into the laptop here and read your current mission report. It’s kind of irresponsible to leave a top secret laptop out in the open like that.” 

Letting out a scream of frustration, I chucked my bag at him which he caught with an attractive and annoying ease. 

“How long have you been here?” I asked. 

He shrugged. “Few days. I’ve been waiting for you to show up.”

This piqued my interest and I raised a brow at him. “You’ve been waiting for me? Why?” 

The Crow stood to his full height and closed the distance between us. Suddenly, I got a small whiff of his scent and couldn't help but shiver at how good he smelled. 

“I’ve been tasked with retrieving The Winter Soldier to bring him back to Hydra,” he informed me while stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. 

I scoffed while shaking my head. “There’s no way I’m helping you bring Soldat back to the monsters that tortured him.” 

“Soldat?” His brows furrowed. 

“It’s what we called him. It's "soldier " in Russian,” I said. 

He nodded curtly. “Well, my Hydra mission is different from my main mission.” 

“Which is?” I pressed. 

There was something oddly weird about why The Crow chose this safe house and why he was waiting for me personally. 

“I need his blood to create an antidote for the serum running through me. I’ve been this weapon for years and need a way out. Hydra doesn't know this but I’m not returning from this mission. I don’t want this life for me any more.”

“What makes you think Hydra will let you get away with that?” I asked in utter disbelief. 

There was absolutely no way anyone in that group would let someone like The Crow get away.

“I have people on the inside that will fake my death so I can hide away.” 

“And you trust them?”

I was beyond shocked that not only did he have the balls to pull off a move like this but he was also divulging his plans to basically a stranger who was an agent of SHIELD and former Hydra assassin.

“With my life,” he said without missing a beat. 

“Why are you telling me all of this?” I ran a hand over my face, the exhaustion from my trek up the mountain suddenly catching up to me. 

Something seemed to lift from his shoulders as he let out a long sigh, suddenly breaking free in front of me. 

“I need your help. I’ve been hunting Soldat for months but can’t seem to keep on his trail. If anyone can find him, it’s you,” he said. 

“What makes you think I can find him?” 

“My sources tell me he’s also looking for you,” he motioned towards the laptop on the coffee table. 

I rolled my eyes at his sources and crossed my arms over my chest. “Why the hell would I help you? You tried to kill me.”

“I would never,” he placed a hand over his chest in mock pain. “I just wanted to see what you were made of.” 

“You’re insufferable,” I exasperated while repeating his words from earlier.

The Crow continued to wear that smirk as he shrugged. “You’ll get used to it the longer we’re together.” 

“Hang on,” I raised a finger. “I never agreed to help you. What do I get out of this? It goes against my orders from SHIELD.” 

“Well, according to your records, it seems like you’ve had quite a few red marks. Your boss, Fury, is trying to help you keep your job which is why he sent you on this private mission. If you brought in The Winter Soldier, it would solidify your position until you retire. But something tells me that you’re looking for a way out as well.”

My spine stiffened as I stood up straighter, not knowing how he found that info out. No one inside of SHIELD knew I was purposely getting red marks on my record in a way for them to kick me off the force. This private mission to find Soldat was a way out with the hopes he remembered me and he could help. 

I swallowed thickly. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. You think you know things about me because you read my file.” 

“A thick file,” he corrected. “If you help me, I can have one of my hacker friends wipe your file clean so you and Soldat can live happily ever after. That is, if he remembers you.”

The urge to slap that stupid smirk off of his face was strong and made my hand twitch at my side yet I weighed his words heavily on my mind. This was technically the way out I needed and now that I finally had the chance to do it, it would be stupid not to take it. 

Right?

“If you were to help me, something tells me I would owe you something?”

Something shone in The Crow's eyes but his next words didn’t match that glimmer. 

“We both get a way out of a life we had no say in. Consider us even,” he spoke while walking past me into the kitchen. 

Reluctantly I followed him and for the first time since stepping inside, the smell of a warm cooked meal filled my senses and my stomach roared to life. On the table were two plates, two cups, and silverware. 

“Are you fine with chicken and potatoes?” The Crow asked over his shoulder as he pulled out a large dish from the oven. 

I blinked at him a few times, trying to gather my words. “How the hell did you get the oven to work? Half of this shit didn’t work the last time Fury and I were held up here.” 

With his back to me, I could see the muscles tense as he moved about the kitchen, getting things ready for dinner and I bit my lip at the sight. 

“I’m good with my hands,” he answered while setting the dish down on the table. “Go wash up and we can talk more about the details.” 

Very briefly, I caught a glimpse of a tattoo on his neck as he scratched at it, lifting down his shirt slightly. 

“I never said yes,” I reminded him while popping my hip out, showcasing my attitude. 

“The way you haven’t blown me to ash yet shows me that you already agreed. So again I say, go wash up and we can go over the details. I have a hunch where Soldat is hiding out.” 

As much as he irritated me, I knew that I’d be nowhere without The Crow. I had nothing on Soldat, so as much as I hated to admit it, I needed his help. 

“Fine,” I forced out through gritted teeth and turned swiftly on my heels but halted when he called after me. 

“What did Hydra call you?” 

“There’s no way I’m giving you my name. I don’t even know you,” I tossed over my shoulder. 

Something in the way he smirked told me he already knew my name due to his hacking but gave me the benefit of the doubt to tell him myself. 

Dropping my shoulders with a sigh, I gave in. “During my time in Hydra I went by Căzut but now I go by Fallen.” 

“I know,” The Crow smirked. “I just wanted to see if you trusted me enough to tell me.” 

“Does this mean you’re going to tell me your name? And not the stupid moniker Hydra assigned you,” I gave him a small smile but dropped it when I noticed the way his face fell. 

“I don’t know my name. I’ve only ever gone by The Crow.” 

Ignoring the pain I felt for him in my heart, I tapped my chin in mock thought before snapping, a spark igniting. “You look like an Eric to me.” 

“Eric,” he repeated the name a few times, almost like he was trying on a new pair of pants. “I like it.” 

“Good because it stays,” I ruffled his hair before leaving him alone in the kitchen as I skipped upstairs. 

When I left the SHIELD headquarters this morning, I had no intention of working with someone on finding Soldat but something in the way Eric smiled at me told me that he was the same as me in a lot of different ways. So if I had to deal with him for a few days in my search for Soldat, it was worth it. It helped that he was good to look at as well. 

“This is going to be a long few days,” I mumbled under my breath as I took the steps up towards the one bedroom of the house. 

The bedroom Eric seemed to have taken over. The same bedroom with only one bed. 

Son of a bitch.