#may your skin remain clear and your ass firm

[rosesocietyy]

Real rashid I hope you're enjoying your freedom out of your cage and having a spectacular evening boo

[starshipsofstarlord]

Not on my boat

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary | whilst helping Sam fix his boat, during the midst of its progression, Bucky corners you within the old Wilson heirloom, leaving your friend and future captain, rather disgusted in the both of you.

Warnings | tfatws spoilers, mentions of death, some angst, smut, oral (male and female receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, bit of choking, swearing

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Hearing the waves crash against the side of the boat brought a smile upon your face, as you felt the breeze brush against your face. It was peaceful, fixing something rather than leaving it broken in order to save lives. If you weren’t swarmed with the government on your tail about how you were not allowed to use your powers, you’d be living out a free and happy life with the man you loved.

You were enduring a break from your assistance on the old Wilson vessel, your legs plodded around its platform, as you surveyed every piece that was in progress. Soon it would be in tip top shape, and when Sam and Bucky’s relationship was on par with that, that was when the two of you had planned to leave. There were plenty of things the two of you had to make up for before you could reside in peace; one of those things was that list of his.

It was a ledger of the amends that he had to make, a reminder of all the lives that had either taunted his own, or he had stolen from whilst he was not himself. James did not deserve the grievance that he was pardoned with, he was struggling, that much was clear. He had lost Steve, and then he was forced to watch as the shield had been handed off to some wanna be cap. To say he had been furious at Sam was a deep understatement, but as said, he was making amends.

Sam was a good man, you had learnt that much from the time that you had spent avenging to him. You had yet to tell him, but you weren’t planning on going back to that life after Karli was stopped, you wanted to continue working in the small shot bar slash grill, where Bucky and Youri would visit during your hours for lunch, and remain in that partition of worlds. Having Bucky and normalcy was a fine balance, which was a deep seated structure that you deeply needed.

If you did not have that then you were sure you’d explode, and hurt someone, or break something. That was no longer your duty, the fighting that you had spent most of your life giving into was coming to an end, and you were more than fine with that. A civilian life sounded good enough, and something that you could definitely settle for, though, you weren’t sure that Bucky would do the same, you hoped that he would.

That gleam in his eye was far too noticeable every time that he looked at that star striped shield. It had brought him much pain, but it had been there in the corner of his sight everywhere he had went. And now, Sam Wilson, the man that his best friend had entrusted with it, finally accepted the mantle, holding it in his firm grasp, ready to become the next captain to walk the earth, and both you and him knew that he would do far better than Walker could.

He was already a hero, he’d been fighting the Sam foes as Steve for some time, that was enough to know that he was ready. His hesitancy had been understandable, more so after listening to Isiah, though, it was nice to see Sam take his own path on this one. There were pictures of his younger self assembled upon the wooden walls, he was with his sister Sarah. She seemed like a nice woman, a part of you wished that you get to know her better, but she wasn’t a buyer into the whole superhero get advantages agenda, and nor were you.

From what you could tell, Sam had his advantage right here; his family. Sarah was supportive of him, always aiding him necessary, whilst she simultaneously raised to young boys, that looked admirably up to their uncle, and feeding the kids that they went to school with because their parents had no intention to. If you could, you’d buy a replica of her life, her head was above water, although the boat almost wasn’t.

The boat. It was an heirloom, something that you did not have of your own family. Everyone was gone, the only person you had was Bucky, and thinking of him caused a light chuckle to fall from your lips, he made you endlessly happy. But neither of you could have the picture perfect life, and that was why the pair of you worked, you were each well aware of the restrictions that taunted you both, and had both been down dark roads on more than one occasion.

Things were turning brighter though, as the sun glared through the old glass, casting luminosity to stroke the high points of your face. A gently creak had your head diverting to the door way, where no other than James Barnes was leant up against, his metal arm pressed to the frame as he adoringly swept his oceanic pools over your form, slowly stepping closer.

“What are you thinking about doll?” He asked you, his tone genuine, as you sighed from his words, rubbing your eyelid as you felt a small itch. You puffed your cheeks, as you placed your hands on the super soldier’s waist, rubbing small and vigilant circles through his grey shirt.

“Too much.” It was an honest answer, everything was rattling around like pins in your mind, sinking in and letting loose to their own will. They could not be organised, they would only tumble about again, until the box was empty, though, for now, you had nowhere else to put them.

“Sarah said we could spend the night.” At his words, you hummed, taking note once more of how generous the woman indeed was. “We get the couch, so you best be on your best behaviour baby girl, nothing dirty goes on inside.” A small smirk crept its way onto his handsome face as you gasped at his spoken intention, lightly hitting the vibranium of his arm.

“Why do you blame me for not keeping it in my pants?” You interrogated him, glaring up at the man with a furrow between your brows. “You’re the one that corners me, a lot like this actually, so that you can get your own way and fuck m- oh, that’s exactly what you’re doing now, isn’t it?” You scoffed, crossing your arms and stepping away due to the man’s hormonal impulses. “Why am in not surprised?” You asked yourself, shaking your head at the behaviour of your partner.

“Hey, I’m doing us both a favour. Sex in someone else’s house is not exactly appreciated, and there’s kids, that i would rather not risk getting caught by.” He moved towards you, grabbing an ass cheek in each hand, as he pulled you closer by his grip. “At least then, there’s a chance I can survive the night, without being woken up by you sucking me off, or riding me.”

He was pushing your buttons, and he far well knew that, almost too well. It was his technique to get you riled up, that way, there’d be no dismissal of his current proposal, though, you continued to wear that adorable frown that he loved so much, and so, he gave your ass another firm squeeze, causing you to gasp against his chest. “Fucking on their dead parents’ boat isn’t exactly respectful either.”

“We’re helping fix it, may as well take our break on board, let loose a little, release all that’s clouding your mind.” He shrugged, knowing that his words were tempting you into complying with his lustrous whim, and so, to put another step in to helping his cause, he stepped back, reaching behind him to pull his shirt over the back of his neck, leaving his muscular torso bare, and free for your eyes to roam.

“That’s not fair.” You whined at him, not stopping yourself as you moved closer, and smoothed your hands down his stomach. “You’re such a tease Barnes, why couldn’t you have just fingered me in the public bathroom and waited until tomorrow?” A groan slipped from your mouth, as you peppered kisses over his warm flesh, tasting the sweat on his skin as your tongue swiped over the ridges of his six pack.

“Where would the fun have been in that?” He watched you roll your eyes, but continue to work your way down to his navel, stroking his v line with your fingertips. “We’ve had sex on a plane, might as well add a boat to the list.” Bucky remarked, groaning as you put your weight down onto your knees, looking up at him with your pretty eyes, as you palmed him through the denim of his jeans.

He could feel his cock stirring beneath the material, wanting more, eager to breach the layers that were keeping your tongue from rotating around him. But he remained still, as you swept your hair out from your face, the noise of your pulling down his zipper audible, as you sent him a naughty grin. The man above you licked his lips, breathing a sigh of relief when you tugged his jeans and boxers down, his erection swiftly bouncing up, the leaking tip pointing rudely at your face.

With a quick hand, you grasped his length, rubbing over his veins as you pumped him, spreading the moisture of his precum over his rigid skin, aiding you in your movements. As you proceeded to jerk him within your grip, your mouth moved forwards, your breath fanning over his balls before your tongue slipped out to stroke them, swiping up the droopy skin, as you suckled one into your mouth, contently moaning from the flavour of his skin.

Your eyes had shut as Bucky opened his own, watching you through a hooded gaze as you happily assisted his genitals, sending him into a crusade of pleasure as you used your well adversed skill set upon him. Your bottom lip ran up his shaft, slowly dragging along his reddened skin, until your reached the tip, your hands fleeing down to fondle with his sack, as your mouth stuffed itself full of his cock.

“Baby girl.” He breathed, his chest feeling tight as he stood there, practically naked aboard your friend’s boat. James gritted his teeth, watching as you effortlessly bobbed your head up and down half of him, lazily grinning as gagging sounds eventually emitted from your throat as you had him down the back of your throat, saliva slipping down your chin as you shook your head from side to side with him choking you with his dick.

Though he worried not for your struggle, not as you moaned against him, your lashes fluttering though your eyes were shut. He reached his vibranium hand down, stroking the side of your face with the cool metal, a high whine whistling it’s way out of your nose. Your spare hand reached up, cupping it against you, as you hollowed your cheeks, steadily breathing your nostrils.

A light frown covered your face as you focused on smoothing your tongue on his underside, causing Bucky to throw back his head, his stomach sternly clenching as he felt his balls twitch; and then, before he could fathom it, he was filling your mouth, cumming down your throat, as he pulled out, the last of his seed falling upon your tongue as he manhandled himself, feeling sensitive as he watched you fumble your tongue around your mouth, swallowing the mix of your spittle and his cum.

“Taste so fucking good.” You spoke, laughing lightly as you stared up and saw his dazed expression. Bucky pulled you up, his hand cupping your ass again, as he backed you up against the dash, your back lightly hitting against the window as he pulled at your shorts, whisking then down your legs, rubbing you through your underwear. His tongue explored your mouth, tasting himself as he located your clit, your arms grabbing at his shoulders to push him down, to which he complied.

His noises echoed through your mouth, as he pressed kissed along the top of your thighs, his fingers surpassing the seams of your panties, swiping at your entrance, until his prodding ceased, and he sunk his middle finger into your pussy, feeling you clench around him instantaneously. His teeth bit into your skin, emitting a squeal out of you as you harshly tugged his hair, making him rut his loose cock against nothing but the air.

“So wet.” He mumbled against your skin, as his vibranium snapped the sides of your underwear, letting the damp material fall to the floor, as he licked circles around your clit with his tongue, pulley airy sounds of pleasure of of your lungs. He slipped in another finger, his nose being pressed against your mound as you tugged him even closer, feeling as though you were almost there. Then you came, his fingers quickly exiting you as his tongue plunged in your entrance, cleaning up all your juices.

“Need you to fuck me Buck, please honey”. The man stood, stroking his hard cock as he teased your entrance. He swiped it through your slit a couple of times, before slapping his head against your clit, making your mewl against his lips, as you licked your essence from around his mouth. “James...” His cocky demeanour returned, as he watched you glance down at his cock, pressing your lips together in desire.

“Thought you didn’t want to fuck me on the boat.” He sneered dominantly, gripping your throat with his vibranium fist, giving it a tough squeeze, finding it endlessly hot as needy tears pooled in the corners of your eyes. Your lips pouted as you sputtered to speak, but you were just so hungry for him. “Guess I’m just gonna have to take pity on you doll, aren’t I?”

With that,he wedged his way through your folds, filling you to the brim as he bottomed out, gently releasing your throat to paw at your tits through your shirt. “Move baby, move.” You mumbled, your head feeling dizzy as your nails dug into the back of his neck, pulling him closer so that you could place tender and supple kisses across the front of his shoulders.

And so, he began to thrust into you, keeping a grip on your hips as he raised your leg around his waist, driving into you deeper, your head tiredly lulling as you chanted his name in soft and delirious pants. “So damn tight angel.” The soldier muttered, biting down onto your chin as he kissed his way up to your lips, abusing the swollen flesh a little more. The kisses were sloppy and downright needy, his vibranium hand held your chin up so that it would tip in rhythm with his movements, making access to the inside of your mouth easier.

“Buck.” You mumbled against his lips as your eyes rolled, your own hand circling your clit as you jutted against his exceeding administrations, one hand crawling up into his scalp as you let our small screams. You were indefinitely close, and as Bucky swerved his head around your own, moving his lips to nip at your earlobe, you came, coating his cock in your wetness, as he continued to hit his hips against your own.

It wasn’t long until he followed after, your clumsy hands trailing down to roll his balls in your palms being the last thing to push him over the edge. Bucky remained standing between your legs, each of your heads resting over each other’s shoulders as you felt each other, eyes closed, and smelling how the aroma of your sex wafted around you, like a personalised perfume.

“Hell no.” And the peace was broke, as Sam’s voice broke it. He had his hands on his hips as he shifted his gaze away from the two of you, unimpressed by what had happened. “The two of you get a break and you - not on my boat!” He practically screeched like a falcon at the pair of you, his arms flailing about like a bird’s flapping wings.

Although he was maddened, it didn’t settle well with you. You were too far out of it to acknowledge what he must have thought about the on deck dick that you had gotten, you were too lost in Bucky, the feeling of him still inside of you, and the falling of his cum out from beneath you both. “You know what, I’m outta here.” Sam left, quite glad to do so.

“You alright doll face?” Bucky asked as he pulled out, making you wince from the feeling of emptiness. You nodded as he reached for your underwear , leaving them be when he registered he had torn them, and instead opted to picking up just you’d shorts, pulling them onto your legs, redressing himself afterwards.

“I love you Buck.” You smiled tiredly, humming as he pecked your lips a few more times, combing his hands through your sex hair, as he returned the facial expression, seemingly calm. It looked good on him, the pair of you had momentarily forgotten your traumas, and it was bliss.

“Love you too darling.” He pecked your nose, staring lovingly into your eyes as he helped you down, and abled you with support to stand. “Unfortunately I think our breaks over beautiful.” He spoke, his hand upon your waist as the pair of you walked from the scene, going to fetch a bottle of water from Sarah, whom you hoped had not learn of your oversea adventure .

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Romanced companions (fo4) react to a distressed female soul telling them she found out she's turning into a ghoul (she's known it for a while but she's been too afraid to tell them, worrying about how they'd react)

Romanced! FO4 Companions React to F!Sole Turning into a Ghoul

Thank you so much for the ask anon! (and for your patience, I know you sent this one in forever ago 😅)

I always kind of wondered how the companions would react to this if it was a function of the game 🤔 So I'm glad I got to explore it a bit! I hope you enjoy!

Cait:

No. Not her. Not her Sole. Cait thought, unable to grasp the news Sole had just revealed to her. Her partner was too strong, she was too careful. She was from before the bombs, before the radiation! How could this have happened?

In her mind, it would have made a lot more sense for Cait to turn into a ghoul long before Sole. Her arse actually deserved the pain of watching her physical self peel away day by day, but not Sole. Her companion, her partner, the one damn person she actually loved... No, Sole was too good for this. But the two of them, they could beat it, they could reverse it somehow. One of those vaults could hold the answer, like it did for her, even after she had thought it was too late.

Cait didn't want to stop the change because she had anything against ghouls, really, because she doesn't. But she couldn't stand the sight of her luv's face when, at the light brush of her fingers through her once silky locks, she felt them fall to the ground in webbed clumps, Cait couldn't stand the pain in Sole's expression as her skin began to shrivel and peel off, she couldn’t witness one more instance of Sole glancing in a mirror with such immense sadness in her eyes. And Cait became very troubled when she realized that Sole would be here long after she was dead. Cait couldn't stand to face reality without her partner after all that she's done for her, and now Sole was staring that reality in the face. The poor lass had already outlived everyone she's known and loved once, and now she had to do it all over again, who knows how many times? It just wasn't fuckin' fair.

Well, once Cait had accepted Sole's change as permanent, she would do everything in her power to ensure the pair made the most of their years together, giving absolutely no fucks about Sole's new appearance. And should anyone else decide to look at her the wrong way, or, God forbid, say something to her about it, Cait's fist would be unholstered and swinging before the offensive words could even leave their worthless lips.

Curie:

She would feel sorry for Sole, and constantly be there for her as a source of support. When her love had told her what was happening, Curie had been shocked. Sure, she had noticed a few changes in her partner’s body, but she had hoped it wouldn’t be anything too serious. Still, this wasn't the worst that could happen, Curie would know, after all of the diseases and viruses she had worked with in the vault. Yet... the synth still found her chest throbbing at the thought of watching her love deteriorate before her eyes.

Throughout Sole’s change, Curie would do what she could to lessen the symptoms. There was no “cure” for being a ghoul, but Curie would feel awful if she didn’t at least try.

As Sole’s condition became more and more obvious, she would do everything in her power to make sure her partner knew that she still loved her. Curie had been a reprogrammed Miss Nanny when Sole had found her, she'd been nothing more than a metal machine when Sole had selflessly saved her, and yet, she had found a way to love her for who she was, despite what she was, and she had been there every step of the way as she made the change to her synth body. Curie would be happy to return the favor tenfold.

Also, throughout the process of Sole's change, if anyone was rude to her love, about anything, Curie would be at them with harsh words and a firm teacher’s voice as she gave the ill-mannered stranger a quick ghouls-101 education session.

Danse (Post BB):

Oh… Oh God. Not this. Not her, not his beautiful Sole. The ex-paladin’s stomach would drop as she quietly forced out her confession, refusing to meet his wide, despairing gaze.

He didn’t know what to do. Danse was horrified. Not for the first time in his life, he felt like his world was crashing down all around him. Everything good in his life seemed to revolve around the person in front of him, but all of his love, his devotion, all of the effort he put into protecting this one person he had left, that he valued above all else in his life, it was all in vain. Because now… she was turning into something that he had always feared. Something that he had been taught and trained to despise, to think of as vermin that needed to be extinguished. It was the way he felt about himself when he found out what he truly was. He never wanted to feel that way towards her, never thought he would have been able to, and even now… he found that he couldn’t.

It didn’t matter what she was turning into, what she’d become, she was still Sole. And he was committed to her, he was loyal to her. Godammit, he loved her for Christ's sake. He wasn’t about to let this calamitous development change any of that. She certainly hadn’t when it had been him in her place.

Danse would still often have trouble with his internalized prejudices left over from his time with the Brotherhood, but he would try his heart out for her. Every passing day brought more changes to the woman he loved, each one serving as a reminder to what the end result would be, and witnessing it would break his heart into pieces.

It was strange though, it wasn’t as devastating as he had thought it would be, in the beginning. Sole was still herself, even underneath all of the physical changes, she was still here beside him, and in the end, that’s all Danse really needed.

Deacon:

For once, Deacon remained silent. His brows furrowed low beneath his sunglasses and his hand came up to rub at his mouth, as though he were trying to physically pull out a response. He cleared his throat, and his hand went up to remove his glasses so he could look Sole in the eye. A rare sight, one that made her pulse quicken further as the apprehension of her confession really set in.

Deacon had already known, or… suspected, rather, but he hadn’t wanted to believe it. It wouldn’t be the first time the Railroad agent's experienced this kind of dread. When he had found out his wife was a synth, he had felt this same crippling pressure in his chest. But he didn’t say that, Sole didn’t need to hear about his problems, no, not again. Now she needed him to help with hers.

So, the spy would nod at her, and ask her what she needed from him. He's a knowledgeable guy, everyone knows that, Sole most of all, so if she needed anything as far as information on what she was about to go through, he would be able to provide it. Better yet, he could bring her to quite a few folks he knew who had gone through the same sorta hell themselves.

Beyond that, not much else would change. Deacon isn't one to put much stock in a person's physicality, what kinda daft and inconsiderate hypocrite would he be if he did? Hell, he may even speak to a surgeon about altering his appearance to become more ghoul-like if that was something Sole cared about. But honestly? He just would want his partner to know that it didn't matter to him.

"Thought you could get rid of lil old me just by going ghoul? Heh, sorry, cuddle muffin, but it looks like you're still stuck with me."

Sole had been able to forgive him for everything he's done, she hadn't judged or ridiculed him for being a bigoted assface for the first half of his life, and she'd accepted him for the compulsive liar and emotion-dodging, sarcastic smart-ass that he was now; sooooooo, yeah. This whole ghoul thing? Not a problem. Just another glorious and compelling chapter in this wacky book called life.

Hancock:

Hancock becomes the literal epitome of empathy. He knows what this shit's like, he's gone through the motions. He remembers the nightmarish sight of his flesh falling from his body in shriveled tatters, he recalls his once silken voice dissolving to his current raspy timbre, he knows what it's like to see the bright vibrance of his irises vanish over the course of a couple weeks, slowly dissolving to the blackness that he now saw the world through.

But with Hancock, it had been his choice. Okay, so he didn't know for certain that he'd become a ghoul, but he had been ready for it, had known it was at least a possibility. With Sole though, she didn't sign up for this shit. She didn't deserve to go through the same kinda hell he did. He wanted to go through hell, felt like he deserved it. But his gorgeous sunshine? The light of his life, the kindest, most selfless person he'd ever met? Nah. She didn't deserve to watch herself develop the likeness of a certain sorta dehydrated fruit.

Hancock would be sure to tell her every day just how incredible she was, how brave, and strong, and how she was still beautiful beyond belief, no matter what. He would show her how he felt. Showering her in gifts and affection, taking her out to prove to her that he could never even think to be embarrassed by her in any capacity whatsoever. He loved this woman, he cherished her. Every irradiated bit of her.

And now… now the best part. Hancock would try not to seem too overexcited, knowing that this whole process was traumatic and painful for his love, but now he could spend the rest of their lives making her see just how much one person-- one ghoul-- could love another. He'd been terrified out of his mind when he thought he would outlive Sole, by who knows how long. But now… now they had an eternity to spend together, or, however long it is ghouls live for. Whatever, no matter how much time they had, Hancock would never be convinced it would be enough. He just supposes the rest of their long lives will simply have to do.

MacCready:

He'd try not to give away his heartbreak as he gazed back at her, his face draining of all it's color as those fateful words escaped her with a sob. This was a nightmare of MacCready's. He hadn't ever told Sole what he saw that night he had woken up screaming, he had told her he couldn't remember the dream, and she had said "maybe that was for the best." If only he'd been telling the truth. In reality, what he saw was the immensely frightening sight of Sole taking his late wife's place in that horrific memory that was forever burned into his brain. Her body engulfed by a throng of writhing ferals as she shrieked out his name. As with all of his dreams like this, MacCready was rooted to the place he stood, forever imprisoned as a bystander to the brutality taking place before him. The agony only ceased when the pack of feral ghouls dispersed, revealing Sole, now as one of them. She had raced towards him, hunger and madness glinting in the opaque depths of her dark, iris-less eyes. The mercenary couldn't get the image out of his head as he watched the color in Sole's eyes fade away over time, her skin losing its divine smoothness, her soft hair drifting to the ground in wisps of somber defeat.

The couple had cried a lot in those weeks of her change. The process was heart wrenching for the both of them to witness; but MacCready stuck by her side. He could be stronger than his nightmares, than his fears, when it came to Sole.

When the day finally did come when she was referred to as a ghoul by a perfect stranger, MacCready had almost been surprised. It had taken time for her to look this way, to sound this way, and he had hardly noticed the extent to which his partner changed until looking at old renderings and pictures of her from before the bombs. This was just who she was now.

She wasn't a monster, a ravenous zombie that he feared and despised. She was Sole. She still acted like his love, her voice still resembled that of his partner's, her eyes had lightened to a blue that outshone his own, which he was clearly not bitter about, and she still was just utterly his Sole. The same woman he had fallen for in the first place, the one he thought he'd never be lucky enough to be loved by in return. But now, even behind all the changes, he could still see her there, and he could certainly still love her.

The nightmares became much less common after her transformation, oddly enough. And when he finally introduced Sole to Duncan, he was terribly worried that the boy would hate her, that he would remember that traumatic night when the pair had lost a mother and a wife, and that he would be afraid of her. But his son hardly seemed to notice Sole's condition, as he shook her hand and introduced himself with enthusiastic giddiness. Later, Duncan might voice some questions to her about being a ghoul, but they were always out of genuine curiosity.

MacCready couldn't have been more proud of his child than he was then, or more touched than when Duncan expressed his relief at Sole having a skin condition like this, and yet, she was still able to be loved by someone as great as his dad. The boy himself remembered the way people would look at him before he had been cured of his blue boils, and he didn't wish that on anybody, he'd assured both Sole and MacCready of that one day.

No, MacCready couldn't have been more proud. Of his son, sometimes even of himself as he learned to outgrow his fears, how to muscle through his trauma and be the best father and partner he could possibly be; and certainly, he couldn't have been prouder of Sole.

Nick:

Nick would be remarkably sympathetic, taking Sole's hand in his good one comfortingly as she struggled to get out the confession, and having not even a glimpse of a negative reaction in response to her heart-wrenching words.

“Oh, doll… I’m so sorry.” His fingers would stroke over her hand in an effort to comfort her. He had been surprised by the news, but it wouldn’t change anything. He’d assure her of that. No matter what physical changes Sole underwent; the memories of a certain synth, all metal, and fiberglass, and plastic, and the damn near perfect woman who somehow fell for him would fill his mind, and he wouldn’t be able to keep from telling her just how much she meant to him every single day.

Life would go on, they would go out on cases together, and help the people of the commonwealth as they have nearly since the day they met, but if anyone decided to utter a comment as to Sole’s physical state, they would certainly be faced with a stern talking to from one sassy synth.

He tried to not mention it too early on, but Nick wouldn't be unable to keep the thought buried forever. One day, when Sole was feeling especially despondent about her current state, he’d remind her that he’d always be there for her. Always. Now he didn’t have to worry so much about that dreadful and inevitable fast-approaching day that he would have to bid Sole goodbye as she passed away from her old age, leaving him alone on this ruined earth. He’d just have to hope that she would be as comforted by the thought as he was.

Piper:

The news would be hard to grasp at first, and even after she understood what Sole was telling her, she wouldn't know what to do. How can you fix something like this? This was her Blue they were talking about! She could do anything, she'd survived the bombs, had found the Institute, she had found her son after so many years, had done all of that, just to now have to go through this too? Hasn't Sole been through enough?!

Piper would be angry, and she'd feel horrible watching Sole go through the changes, as she was forced to witness her love's physical form deteriorate before her in just a couple short months. Piper would try to tell Sole to keep her chin up, remind her who she was, of everything she's been through, how much she's overcome; and if anyone wanted to bug her partner about being a ghoul, Piper would tear them to shreds with her words, not caring if she made a scene as she made the stranger realize what horrible mistake they had made speaking to Sole like that. She'd rip ‘em a new one for sure, and spend a good portion of the day making sure her love was alright after the ordeal. The reporter knew how much words could hurt.

She would be utterly supportive, and even, if Sole was comfortable with it, might see if she’s interested in being a sort of poster child for a campaign to allow ghouls back into Diamond City (and God help anyone who tries to keep Sole out of the city before Piper has a chance to change the law officially.)

Preston:

Preston tried to swallow through the lump in his throat, but to no avail. The Minuteman didn’t cry often, or, he hadn’t since meeting Sole. But this… He couldn’t stop the tears from spilling as he drew her into his embrace. His voice surely would have failed him if he had tried to comfort her with his words, so his arms wrapped tightly around her, her head pressed firmly to his chest. That would have to do for the time being.

“Sole, I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” He managed to whisper to her as his hand came up to stroke gently at her soft hair, trying desperately not to imagine the way it would fall from her head soon enough. He took a deep breath.

“But… I want you to know something. Something really important.” Preston pulled away so he could look into her eyes, hands coming to rest on either of her tear-stained cheeks “This won’t change anything between us. No matter what, you’re still my General, and… and I love you so much. What’s happening to you won’t ever change the way I feel about you.” They’d both be sniveling messes through the night.

But each morning that passed in the coming days, each change Sole underwent, they would take as it came. Preston is a bit of a workaholic, he knows this, and so does Sole, but he’d take a day off if ever her symptoms became unbearable enough. The Minutemen were stronger now than they had been in years, because of her, and so he would try not to feel so guilty about stepping away from his duties to help her.

But he would keep his promise, and, through everything, Sole would remain the General of the Minutemen, with everyone still paying her the respect that the title was due. She would remain the love of his life, he would tell her every day the way that he admired her, tell her how gorgeous he found her, no matter how much her physicality changed, he would remind her of her boundless strength. He just hoped it’d be enough to make her happy, to save her back, in the way she had saved him.

X6-88:

When Sole hesitantly told him about what was happening to her, it had only been after he asked. It was clear to the synth that something was wrong with his partner, but waiting for her to explain on her own had him only becoming more impatient. When she did tell him, he was furious. Certainly not at her, and not necessarily at the Institute’s inability to prevent it from happening, but at the Commonwealth, at the world for doing this to the one he loved. X6 couldn't stand the thought of it, the pain she had to go through. A part of him blamed himself for it. He was meant to protect her, from anything that could possibly harm her, and he had failed. Her changing appearance would be a testament to that failure every day of his life.

In an effort to make it up to her, X6 offered everything he possibly could to his partner, walking her though each and every symptom that came with her change, and ensuring she was utilizing every resource the Institute had at its disposal. Treatments, and skin creams, and supplements, and enough radaway to douse the glowing sea were used in an effort to slow the process of ghoulification, or perhaps even to halt it.

When it inevitably didn’t work, X6 would feel useless, like he had failed in his mission to keep his beloved safe all over again. However, something strange happened to the courser when the one he loves began to physically fall apart in response to the radiation. He didn’t want to leave her. He could stand to look at her, to still love her in the way that he never thought he would be able to, even when she was human. Despite what she had become, she was still his Sole.

After he came to this realization, X6 would take it as a personal mission for himself to ensure that anyone who made Sole feel bad for the way she looked or the way she now spoke would pay dearly for the carelessness of their commentary. X6 would work endlessly to guard his love from insults and dangers alike, from outsiders as well as those within the Institute. That was what he could do for her, what he had to do, if he ever wanted to make it up to Sole. The way he had carelessly let this happen to her... He would never forgive himself, and wonder every day how Sole could, but he will make it up to her. Mark his words.

[fandom-puff]

Guard

Pairing: Sandor Clegane x reader

Requested by: anon ‘Can I get literally anything with Sandor Clegane? Maybe reader is a highborn child of a lord, and the Hound is hired as their bodyguard. And reader is very flustered around Sandor and can’t help but try to seduce them nervously? And Sandor is secretly digging it but tries to remain stoic and scary. Did that make any sense? I hope that was coherent’

Note: I... got a bit carried away here lol, sorry it took a while to write. also the reader in this is Robert Baratheon’s eldest daughter :)

Warnings: drunk shenanigans, references to sex

Gif creds to owner

“Oh father, honestly. What need have I for a guard?” You sighed, setting your book aside as Robert Baratheon sat across from you. “I can barely leave my chambers without a swarm of mother’s little birds to watch my every move,”

“What good are your ladies maids against would be assassins, Hm?” Robert said gently, brushing your dark hair away from your face. “All they can do is tell your mother you’ve had your throat slit,” you didn’t grimace at his bluntness.

“Surely Joffrey would be the prime target?” You insisted. “He’s heir to the throne seeing as he’s the eldest son. And he’s an ass as well,”

Robert laughed, knowing of your disdain for your younger brother. “I know, my girl, I know. Still, I want you protected, especially when we set off for the north. It took a while to convince your mother but... well, she can’t deny her own bannermen will be the best to serve the job,”

“Lannister bannermen?” You asked, taking your father’s arm as he began to walk you to dinner.

“Aye. Don’t worry, I won’t let the Mountain anywhere near you,” he said, patting your hand gently. “But his brother, Sandor, is to be your guard,”

***

The journey north was... arduous, to put it diplomatically. Your mother was overbearing, Joffrey grew bored, Myrcella was travel-sick from the bumpy road and Tommen was dearly missing Ser Pounce.

When the parade of servants and guards and carriages and luggage stopped for dinner before sun down, you sighed, happy to stretch your legs and get away from the claustrophobic Queen’s litter.

After dinner, you followed your father and uncles to their own carriage, insisting you couldn’t bare another moment of your siblings bickering and your mother trying to get you to sew. Your father allowed it and you smiled as he helped you into the carriage, sitting next to him and across from your uncles. Tyrion smiled at you, asking about the book you were reading. You soon found yourself relaxing, under no pressure from Cersei, being treated as an intellectual equal. You even drank some strong wine (under Robert’s supervision of course) and soon nodded off to sleep against your father’s shoulder the way you used to when you were a girl...

“YN, wake up,” you jolted awake, blinking away your sleepiness.

“Are we at Winterfell?” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes. Robert smiled fondly.

“Almost, my dear. Your mother is going spare, says you’re to go to her litter right this instant and put your best gown on,” he grinned, nudging you as you rolled your eyes. “Clegane will escort you, he’s outside,” you sighed and nodded, slipping out of the carriage, almost colliding head on with the Hound.

“Princess,” he said, looking down at you and bowing slightly. “I’m to take to you your mother,”

You smiled sweetly up and him, nodding. “Thank you, Ser Clegane,”

“I’m no Ser,” he said firmly.

“Then what should I call you?” You asked, looking up at him expectantly.

“Well... your brother used to just call me Hound, or Dog, princess,” he said, frowning.

You stared up at him, locking eyes with him, taking in his scarred face and stoic expression. “I am not an ignorant arse like my brother. I’m sure your first name shall suffice, Sandor,” you said firmly and he nodded, helping you navigate the uneven ground to your mother’s carriage

***

Your stay at Winterfell was enjoyable, yet suffocating at times. You grew used to the cold rather quickly, donning furs the way the Starks did. You got on well with Sansa, let Arya show you how fast she could run, held Rickon on your hip when he raised his arms up, let Bran quiz you on the different creatures Old Nan had told him about, spoke politics with Robb. You even beckoned the bastard, Jon Snow over after Robb told you they were as close as real brothers. You admired how warm Lady Stark was with her children, and how Lord Stark was firm but fair with them, disciplining them when need be.

Of course, wherever you went, you had a shadow. Sandor Clegane followed your every move, standing just close enough so he could see and hear you, but far away enough to not stifle you. It was odd at first, but you soon got used to it, smiling softly when you found him waiting outside of your allocated chamber each morning. You couldn’t help but be curious about him. Many recoiled in fright when they saw his disfigured face, but you couldn’t care less. It intrigued you. He was... handsome. In a rugged, scary, gigantic way. At night you couldn’t help but let your mind wander... thinking about his strong arms and great height and low, rumbling voice... you often woke in a sweat, despite the frigid wind of the North, your entire body alight with desire.

It was wrong, you knew it was. He was your guard. Father would have his head if anything untoward happened, and your mother would surely condemn you to a life as a Septa. But still... there was something about his powerful presence that stoked the fire within you.

***

There was a firm thud at your door. “Princess, I’m here to take you to the feast,” Sandor’s gruff voice sounded.

“A moment, I’m just... is there a ladies’ maid nearby?” You called

“No, Princess. They are down at the feast with your mother and sister... should I fetch one? Or perhaps the Septa or the Maester, if it’s women’s troubles that are ailing you?”

You rolled your eyes and opened the door. “There’s no need for that, Sandor,” you said firmly. “I’m simply having difficulty trying to do up the clasp on my necklace. Would you...?” You opened your door a little wider, inviting him inside. Sandor hesitated for a moment before following you, his armour rattling with every step. He admired your figure as you walked; you had decided to wear the colours of your house for the Feast. A black gown, embroidered with twisting golden antlers. You stood in front of the mirror, holding out the ends of your pendant. Sandor’s hands brushed against yours as he took the ends, and you couldn’t help but shiver, goosebumps spreading over the swell of your breasts as you swept your hair aside. Sandor gulped, clasping the fiddly chain against the column of your neck, his knuckles caressing gently.

“There,” he said, clearing his throat as he felt your heated skin. “Come on... before your mother castrates me for making you late,”

You smiled gently, walking slightly ahead of him toward the noisy Hall. As you approached the head table, Ned and Catelyn stood, but you quickly gestured for them to sit. “Please, sit. This is your home,” you said gently, allowing Sandor to pull a chair out for you next to your mother.

“Thank you Clegane,” she said coldly, eyes narrowed. “You may leave us now,”

You turned to him and smiled shyly. “Stay,” you said softly.

“YN,” your mother said warningly.

“Sandor, go and enjoy the feast. Have some food and some wine, I’m sure Uncle Jaime and Uncle Tyrion can spare you some. Go. Make Merry,” you said gently and he nodded, bowing slightly.

“Of course, Princess, your majesty,” he said, before stalking away.

You ignored your mother’s disapproving look and engaged in pleasant conversation with Lady Catelyn, mainly about when you were to be wed, but your mother cut across.

“I believe Robert intended to betroth her to your eldest son, but we must consider Joffrey’s future first. He is after all to be king and needs to have heirs,”

“Of course,” Catelyn smiled. “I’m sure a suitor will come shortly,”

You nodded, although your attention was no longer on the conversation; your eyes had drifted to Sandor. For once he was smiling, looking at ease as your uncles poured him more wine, your father laughing jovially with a woman on his lap. “I’m going to see Uncle Jaime,” you said to your mother, who sighed but let you go.

“Ah, YN,” Tyrion smiled as jaime poured you a goblet of wine. “I see you’ve managed to escape your mother’s side,”

“Don’t,” you said, taking the wine and drinking it quickly, sitting yourself next to Sandor. Robert sent the woman on his lap go, frowning at you.

“Careful now, YN, that wine’s stronger than you’re used to,” he warned, but you reached over to clink your goblet with his. Sandor gulped, seeing the curve of your back as you swayed slightly.

“Oh, nonsense, father. I am your daughter after all... and my uncle is the drunkest man in the seven kingdoms. It’d be rather shameful if I couldn’t manage a cup of wine,” you smiled, sitting back down and knocking back another cup as the men roared with laughter.

Your father was right. A few cups of the strong wine later, you were rather giddy, insisting Jaime dance with you. He humoured you, your father and Tyrion laughing and cheering you on while Sandor smiled bemusedly. “Come now, YN... that’s enough for tonight,” Jaime said, helping you stagger back. “She’s drunk,” he grinned as you giggled, sitting yourself back down. Your fathered grinned, allowing you one more cup before smirking.

“Gods above, Cersei will have my head for getting you drunk...” Robert grinned, although he didn’t really look too worried. “Clegane, take her to her rooms and guard the door. Send for the maester if she’s unwell,” Sandor nodded and bowed, watching as you hugged your father goodnight, before taking your arm and guiding you out of the crowded hall.

As you walked through the courtyard of Winterfell, you shivered in the cold, leaning into Sandor a little more, trying to keep up with his wide strides. He helped you up the stairs to your room, rolling his eyes fondly as you giggled when you stumbled. “Come on, Princess, need to get you to bed in one piece,”

“I’d like you to get me in bed, Sandor,” you grinned, nudging him, fuelled by liquid confidence. He said nothing, opening your bedroom door, helping you inside before turning around. “What’re you doing?” You asked indignantly.

“Turning my back so you can get yourself dressed for bed,” he said lowly, gritting his teeth.

“I can’t undo the laces at the back... my ladies’ maid is still at the feast. Help?” You asked, already clumsily undoing your braids. Sandor sighed softly, cursing under his breath as he turned around. You had your back to him, holding your hair out of the way so he could unlace your gown. When you felt his strong hands against your back, caressing with the gentlest touch, you let out a little sigh, leaning back into his touch. Your gown pooled onto the floor, leaving you in your corset and chemise. His breath hitched, unlacing your corset. You smiled, turning around and he quickly averted his eyes- he could see your nipples through the fabric, thanks to the cold.

“C’mon, princess,” he said, clearing his throat, thankful his armour covered his cock; his trousers were feeling uncomfortably tight. ��Into bed with you,” you nodded obediently, letting him help you up into the high bed. He pulled the blanket over you, and as he was straightening, you reached up to kiss him. He froze for a moment, before kissing you back gently, stroking your hair. His whole hand almost covered your head as he cupped the back of it gently. Slowly, he pulled away, much to your dismay. “Sleep, princess,” he said softly, pushing you down. You reached up, pouting.

“Stay?” You slurred, eyes already drooping as the alcohol caught up to you.

“I’ll be standing just outside the door, YN,” he said, blowing out the candles. “Can’t keep you safe if I’m in here, can I?”

***

Tags: @lotsoffandomrecs @zodiyack @rabeccablake @simonsbluee @wonderwoman292 @little-bit-of-randomness @doozywoozy

[chuckbass-love]

Hi! I know you only just posted it but would it be possible to request 33&36 from the prompts with Ransom please?❤️

A/N: Thank you for your patience on this one, i really hope when you read it that it was worth the wait. Also thank you for requesting in the first place, it means a lot that people ask me to write fics for them.

Prompt #33: "Pushing back against my fingers already? How pathetic"

Prompt #36: "You'd better watch your fucking mouth"

Disclaimer: My work is not to be translated or to be posted anywhere else other than MY Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Fem!Reader

Warning: Smut! Unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, swearing, daddy kink, implied alcohol consumption and use of the word slut/degradation. 18+ everyone....

Word Count: 2,191

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @twerkforambrose go check them out 💕

Your Filthy Addiction

Five more minutes, you’re going to give that arrogant son of a bitch five more minutes before you toss the food you’d made earlier. You’ve spent all dam day slaving away in that kitchen of yours to make sure Ransom had a decent home cooked meal to come back to after a long day working with Harlan, and what does he do? He doesn’t even show up.

You might love him but if you didn’t get annoyed at least once a day with him then life wouldn’t be right. He’s always doing something to mess you around.

And today is testament to that, it’s testament to the fact that no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t help but let you down. Maybe now you’ve had enough of sitting idly by and letting him walk all over you.

So when he eventually stumbles into the house, his tipsy state as clear as day, your cage is well and truly rattled.

“Where the hell have you been?” you snap, standing in front of him with your hands placed firmly on your hips as you take in his flustered cheeks. He’s very drunk indeed, probably due to the bottomless Jameson supply at the bar across town.

You’ve tried your hardest for years ever since the night you first met Ransom to help him with his obvious drinking problem but to no avail. And now you see why your solutions to his problems never worked, it was because despite his constant complaining about said problems, he loves having just a tiny bit of conflict in his life. Mostly with his good for nothing family who only treat him like dirt. But he gives as good as he gets, always has and always will.

“I was just out with Harvey” the way his shoulders move up as he shrugs only seems to bother you all the more. His lack of care for his actions have always created issues for your relationship but this takes the cake.

To some, your pouty and bratty behaviour may seem pathetic and unnecessary, but to you it’s more than him missing dinner. It’s about the fact that he always seems to let you down, over and over.

“Oh so you prefer his company over mine then? Because i made us a lovely meal so that we could eat together after a week of not being able to and this is the thanks i get? For my so called boyfriend to be swanning off with the master of one night stands” your voice is low, your stare dark and angry, your stance even more so and he can definitely see how badly he’s fucked up.

However, if you know Ransom well enough, then you can certainly see his change in attitude coming a mile off.

“You’d better watch your fucking mouth” he barks, his finger pointed directly in your face as he stalks closer to you. You find yourself stepping back, intimidation controlling you.

“Or what? You gonna make me? Judging by the way you’ve been acting you don’t have a leg to stand on” you say matter of factly as you shake your head in disgust at his nerve. How dare he boss you around when he’s the one who’s been out of line all this time.

“Maybe i will” he pokes his chin out as he stands tall, hands by his sides. He looks awfully confident as he inches closer. His index finger slips underneath your chin as he forces you to look directly into his menacing eyes.

You feel your breath catch in this moment. The knowledge of him doing whatever he wants to do to you just because he can is causing your entire body to shiver with anticipation. Despite how he makes you feel sometimes, you’re a sucker for him and everything he does.

He says jump, you say how high.

“What?” you murmur, wanting him to use his words just like he always makes you do.

“I said, maybe i will make you. Bet you’d love that, slut” you wince at the horrid nickname. It’s moments like these when you always try your hardest to avoid thinking about how his degradation of you makes you feel, your mind is objecting but your body is giving him the green light.

How is that?

How does he always manage to do that?

Must be some kind of mind control as you absentmindedly follow him through to the kitchen, his hand barely holding onto your own.

Before you can even make sense of things, he pushes you over the kitchen counter forcefully.

His hands splay across your ass cheeks as he lifts your dress up, bunching it at your waist before yanking your ruined panties down your bare legs. Next thing you know his fingers are toying at your dripping wet hole.

“Would ya look at this...you can try all you like to act up sweetheart, but you and i both know why this cunt of yours is soaked”

There he goes again, spewing filth to get you to give up the jig. You know you have to remain strong and stable but it’s so hard to do that when he....wait! Is he inserting his fingers? Fuck, they are so thick inside of you and two already? He must be a mind reader to know how this makes you feel, he must know what gets you keening because now here you are pushing back on them like a needy little brat.

“Pushing back on my fingers already? How pathetic” he tuts, his tone mocking as he chuckles a little. Still, his fingers remain as they twist and turn inside of you, scissoring you open before he adds a third.

Fuck, this is delicious torture. The man you’re supposed to be mad at but you can’t bring yourself to be when he makes your body feel so good.

The undeniable and powerful pleasure that he provides is just too good to quit. You could never let him go even if you actively tried to which by the way, you’ve attempted it a hundred times at least.

But every time you try he just lures you back in with his sexual prowess, his high libido and those dashing good looks. His sweet talk isn’t too bad either.

When will you ever learn to strengthen yourself up and walk away? Because he’s never going to change but oh shit, the way he’s pumping his fingers in and out rapidly is enough to cause the coil in your stomach to tighten one last time.

You move to meet his fingers, hips gyrating in circular motions slowly as you reach your hand between your legs.

Of course he pushes you hand away, insisting on using his own. His thumb presses down on your pulsating clit and the breathy groans that are escaping him let you know that he can sense your impending orgasm.

“Come on, baby. Cum for daddy” he urges, rubbing firm circles on you clit as his fingers curl inside of you, pushing against that spongy spot deep within. The one that will have you seeing stars in, 3...2...1.

“FUCK RANSOM” you scream out, hands gripping the kitchen counter so hard that it turns your knuckles white, his fingers continue to drive into you over and over as he rides you through your intense high.

“That’s my girl, just like that. Let go, baby” you can hear the smirk in his voice, the smugness he feels knowing that yet again he’s prevented you from walking away.

He’s convinced you to stay just by pleasuring you with his filthy touch, his sinful thick digits.

You may be weak, but with a man this good, a man capable of making your pretty little pussy cum over and over, why would you want to be anything else?

As soon as you come down from the high, you stand up, straightening your posture as you turn around to face him. The proud look covering his face lets you know that it’s all a game to him.

You pull your dress back down so that it’s covering up your modesty before pulling your panties up.

“What’s wrong, sad eyes?” he pokes, his hands resting either side of the counter, caging you in.

“You know what. You can’t just keep using sex to keep me around, Ransom” you huff in defeat, bothered by your lack of strong will.

“Sure i can, and what’s more, you’re gonna enjoy it too” he raises his eyebrows as he spins you back around, keeping your back arched by yanking your head backwards.

Every inch of your skin turns to gooseflesh as he trails his finger down the curve of your back before reaching your tail bone and pushing your dress up. He undoes the belt around his slacks before popping open the button and slipping them down along with his boxers, freeing his erection from its tight confines.

He slips your arousal covered panties to the side before smothering his eager red tip in your mouth watering pussy juices. Once he catches on your entrance he slams inside of you, but before you can jerk forward he hooks his arm into both of yours as he holds them behind you firmly.

You can never leave him, even if you truly wanted to, you’re stuck in an ongoing loop of orgasms and rough sex.

A frantic whimper slips off your tongue as his pace now renders on animalistic, hard and fast, just the way you both like it.

Of course the real pleasure comes from the slow and hard thrusts, the ones where he gently pokes at your g spot as he lays on top of you. Your legs wrapped around him, his face in the crook of your neck. But now is not the time for gentle and slow, now is the time for rushed and needy.

He’s desperate to achieve that orgasm just as much as he is to provide one for you. To feel your legs shaking as your head lulls back to rest on his chest, eyes rolling to the back of your head, it’s something he can never and will never get enough of. The way your walls are clamping down on him right now should be illegal as he can feel his balls tighten with the impending release.

“Fuck. Keep tightening those walls baby, let yourself go. Just. One. Last. Time” his voice desperate as his breathing turns ragged, matching yours. Your chest starts to rise and fall before your head falls back to rest on his chest just like he loves. He can feel your entire body tremble in his hold as he loosens his grip and pushes you over the counter.

“Gonna fucking cum, deep inside of this pussy. Gonna fill you up with my cum, baby” he growls, his voice deeper than before. He’s so painfully close, as are you.

And as you flutter around him one last time, he spills his load inside of you, causing you to stand up onto your tip toes with your head pressed into the marble counter.

He paints your walls with thick white ropes before twitching as he slows down his thrusts, then he stills his hips.

All that can be heard in this kitchen is heavy panting before the sound of your pussy squelching as he pulls out distracts you. He pulls his slacks back up, making quick work of his zip, button and belt whilst you toss your panties into the hamper by the laundry room and pull your dress back down before heading up to your bedroom.

New panties are a must.

“Now do you get it?” he asks, leaning on the open doorway to your room and causing you to turn and face him once your fresh panties are on.

“Get what?”

“Your mine and you always will be, until i say otherwise” he states, shocking you.

“I’m not your property, Ransom”

“Oh but you are, those soaked panties in that hamper prove it. So get used to it, because you’re never leaving me, especially not now”

You’re well and truly fucked... held captive by his intoxicating smell, intimidating demeanour and his undeniable skills in the bedroom.

Guess you should have known from the day you first met Hugh Ransom Drysdale that you’d never make it out alive if you were to run.

But the real question is, do you even want to leave him? He’s everything you detest but still you stay and continue to crave more of him.

And the answer to that question would be no, no you wouldn't want to leave.

He may be a prick, an arrogant asshole and a cocky son of a bitch but he is an addiction...your filthy addiction, and you wouldn’t have it or him any other way.

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

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[wiypt-writes]

Guilty As Charged

Guilty As Charged: Bucky Barnes One Shot

Summary: Defence Attorney James ‘Bucky’ Barnes is the absolute bane of your life…

Pairing: Lawyer AU Bucky Barnes x Reader (Frenemies!)

Warnings: Bad language words.

Word Count- Under 2k

A/N:  This was originally posted on my old blog ages ago, but I’ve just given it a little polish and thought, seeing as I’m on the Bucky Train at the moment, I’d bring it back. Also, my knowledge on US Criminal Law is sketchy at best, so humour me…

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist // Main Masterlist

*******

In God We Trust, the words set about the Judge’s podium were fixed in your vision, motes of dust moving freely in the rays of sunlight which were streaming through the large, ornate windows of the court room and you took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, concentrating on expelling the nerves you were feeling with the air that left your mouth and lungs.

No matter how many times you were in this position, the reading of the verdict still got to you. Your gaze turned to the jury, as the judge did the same, that all important question ringing across the room, the air stiflingly tense.

“On the charge of murder in the first degree, do you find the defendant or not guilty"

“Not guilty.”

Fuck.

Cheers from the defendants family drowned out your loud groan as you rubbed at your temple. Looking over at your colleague, Sam, you shook your head in utter disbelief.

The judge continued through the remaining charges, second-degree murder and voluntary manslaughter, and your despair grew as the same verdict was returned for each.

You’d lost. And it stung, not merely because of your near perfect conviction rate, but for the family of the victim you were one-hundred percent convinced the accused.

"Y/N this wasn't your fault.” Sam stated in a low voice but you simply sighed again and shrugged.

"I was sure they'd see through his lies,” you glanced over to your right where the defence team, headed up by James Buchanan Barnes of Barnes and Rogers Law firm were shaking hand with each other and their defendant. Barnes' face was arranged in the usual smug look that you always had the urge to slap right off it. His partner, Steve, glanced over at you and gave you a genuine, sympathetic smile.

He’s always the most courteous out of the two, the one you actually didn’t mind dealing with when it came to cases.

"He fucking did it Y/N," Sam's voice was almost a growl, "I know he did."

"Well in the eyes of the law he didn’t." You stated, standing up.

The commotion continued behind you, as the defendant was told he was free to go. Making sure to keep your head down, you hastily shuffled your papers back into their respective files and packed your briefcase up. Picking up your jacket, you shrugged it on, smoothing down pencil skirt before you head to leave the courtroom before Barnes can pipe up with his usual smart ass quips. But you're not quite fast enough. "Commiserations Miss Y/LN, can't win em all." The familiar Brooklyn drawl hit your ears.

"Buck," Steve sighed "c'mon pal..."

You grit your teeth. You know you shouldn't rise to it, but you just can’t help it. The man is an utter jack ass in the courtroom. Spinning to face him, you shot him your best contemptuous glare, the one you always reserve for those people you really cannot stand, and looked at him like he was something you'd just trodden in.

"You know Barnes, there is such a thing as being gracious in victory as well as defeat." "Defeat?” He asked, looking at Steve with a puzzled expression on his face, “no, not sure what that is." "Eat shit.” You mumbled before turning to Sam who was stood behind you, watching the exchange. You nod to him and the two of you continued up the aisle towards the exit. The victim's family were congregated outside and all at once the start barraging you with questions.

"How did that happen?"

"You said it was a cert he would go down!”

"What about a private prosecution?”

You sighed and turn to look at them, you were exhausted. "I'm sorry.” You shook your head. “That new evidence that his attorney submitted, it was just threw too much of a doubt into the juries mind..." you held your hand up to gently silence them. “If you're serious about a private prosecution then I can meet you next week to discuss and put you in touch with a few people but I’m sorry, as far as the State’s involvement goes…I can’t do anymore."

Escaping as quickly as you could, you and Sam headed back to your office. After a short meeting with your boss, the District Attorney, who was as pissed as you were that the prosecution had failed, you emerged feeling twice as tired and battered as you had when you’d left the courtroom.

As Sam stated, there was only one thing left you could do. Drink alcohol. A lot of alcohol.

It was a short walk to your preferred bar, having decided to abandon your car and collect it in the morning. You were going to get drunk. Really drunk. "Hey Y/N, hey Sam." Clint, the bar tender greeted you. “I hear it wasn't a great day.” You looked up and saw he was pointing to the TV behind the bar. It was on a news channel, focussing on a report from earlier that afternoon which wasn’t surprising. The case had thrown up huge public interest ever since the body of the teenage girl has been found in the alleyway in Queens. The defendant confessed but somehow, the new evidence submitted was an alleged recording that the defence had gotten their hands on as proof the confession was taken under duress. If you were being totally honest, you had to admit that it didn't sound great, the officer did seem to be leaning heavily on the defendant, but the other evidence was, no, IS overwhelming.

But all it needed was that little seed of doubt, which the defence sowed expertly, and the jury couldn't convict. And now, thanks to Barnes and Rogers, specifically Barnes, in your mind a dangerous killer was walking free. As you stared at the television, you saw Barnes on the screen with the defendant, all smiles and Steve at his side. Barnes greeted the press with a raised hand. "Clint turn it over man." Sam almost pleaded and Clint shot you both a sympathetic look, before he pointed the remote at and flicked the report over to a mundane, late afternoon game show. You ordered 2 beers, and then settled at the bar on one of the tall chairs, crossing your bare, heeled legs as you and Sam began to dissect the case. You couldn’t help it, you always did this, analyse where you went wrong or right.

The pair of you got that enthralled in your discussions, that before you know it, it was an hour lager and you're now four beers deep... and Sam was fielding an angry phone call from his wife, Natasha. "I gotta go, boss." He sighed, apologetically, “it’s my little girl’s dance recital at six and if I miss this one, Nat’s gonna hang me out to dry!” You waved his explanation off. “Its fine, Sam. Oh, and take the morning tomorrow. That case has had us working all hours and I don’t intend on being there till lunch. Clint, gimme a bourbon please?" "Don't let Barnes get to you.” Sam sighed. “You know what he is like" "Smug, arrogant and annoyingly self-righteous.” You nodded. “Yup, I got it.” Sam smiled and dropped a friendly kiss to your cheek. "See you later." Clint slid the glass of bourbon over to you and you smiled before pulling out your phone to check a few emails and your social media. You were just reading through an article about a Billionaire in Manhattan who had designed some kind of metal suit that allowed him to fly (because that's gonna end well), when a familiar voice broke your concentration. "Can I buy you a drink?" You rolled your eyes and looked up at Bucky Barnes as he leaned on the bar, still in his suit, although he had dispensed of his black and white tie, and opened his top button. This was another thing you hated about him. He is utterly gorgeous. Like GQ cover gorgeous, especially in his sharp suits and silk ties.

And he fucking knows it, too. "Depends." You shrugged, throwing back the remainder of your bourbon. "Does it come with a side helping of irritating smugness?" He chuckled. "I'm off duty, Doll so no."

"In that case I'll have another Monkey Shoulder." You slid the empty glass back to Clint. "Take it you're not driving home?" Barnes asked, his azure eyes running over your bare legs. "Well if I do and I get caught, I'm sure you can get me off any charges.” You replied sharply, shooting him a look that made it clear you caught him eyeing you up. And it isn't the first time either. That's another reason you clash so much in the courtroom. Sexual tension. Fucking jerk. He barked out a laugh "You're really not happy with me are you?" "Not particularly." You shook your head, thanking Clint as he pushed the now full glass back to you, with a small wink. It's a double, you noticed. That should set Barnes back a bit. Bucky reached for his beer and after a pull he looked directly at you. "Come work for me." He said and you groaned.

Not this again. "I'm a prosecutor." You rolled your eyes. "Not a defence attorney. I told you that last time you asked. And the time before, and the time before that." "I'm nothing if not persistent." He winked, turning in his stool so he was facing you. "Besides, I can teach you the ways of the dark side." "You’d love that wouldn't you?" You snort. "Oh, Sweetheart you have no idea." He leaned forward slightly, his elbow on the bar and this time he is blatantly staring at the flash of skin that was showing above the buttons on your blouse. "My face is up here, ass hole." With a smirk he raised his deep, blue eyes and they locked onto yours. Despite yourself, you feel your breath hitch slightly. Dammed him and his sex appeal. "Why are you always this insufferable?" You eventually tore your gaze away from his and picked up your drink, glancing up at the TV as an excuse not to look at him. "Ah come on Y/N, don’t be like that." He reached out to squeeze your hand which was resting on the back of the tall chair you were sat in. "We could make a great team..." You raised an eyebrow and looked at him. "Professionally.” He added, his eyes not leaving yours as he took another large drink of his beer, and you pulled your hand away from under his. "I'd kill you within five minutes of us being in the same office." You glared at him as you took another sip from your drink. He chuckled and eyed you again, “to be fair I'm not sure Stevie would be able to function with a beautiful dame such as yourself in close proximity. He still flusters around any woman that isn’t his Peggy.” "That's because Steve is a happily married man." "So am I." He shot back. Ah yes, Mrs Barnes… "Your wife deserves a medal. She must have the patience of a fucking saint to put up with you." You said into your glass. "I have other hidden qualities which mean she's prepared to overlook my slightly less favourable personality traits." He quipped, and you looked back to see that lopsided grin on his face that flips your stomach. Behave Y/N. "They must be very hidden." You mused, and he let out another loud laugh.   "You're killing me, Doll.” "Good." You drained your glass. The liquid burnt your throat and you could feel the effects of the alcohol from the last few hours as your brain started to hum. You looked at Barnes who was watching you, his eyes shining with all the cheekiness of a teenage boy and you know you need to leave before you do something stupid.

Like snogging his dumb, handsome face off. "I think it's time I got going." You said simply, standing up. Barnes gave a nod, draining his bottle. “Yeah I should be making tracks too. Wife to see to, you know how it is.” You stood and he did the same, and you realised he was holding up your jacket, ready for you to slide your arms into. Narrowing your eyes slightly at his sudden chivalry, you couldn’t help the small smile that flickered across your face as you turned and allowed him to help you into it. His hands dropped to your shoulders and he span you round gently and smiled with those perfect teeth, a smile that lit up his beautiful face, his eyes crinkling in the corners. "Lead the way Mrs Barnes.” He instructed softly, dropping a tender kiss to your lips. "You know it's a good job I love you,” you smiled, sliding your arms up round his neck. "Yeah, I know." "Although right now I'm struggling to remember why." "Well, when we get home I'll just have to show you some of those hidden qualities I was talking about, see if they help jog your memory.” You bit your lip slightly at the dark flash of desire that flit across his eyes, and you leant up to brush your lips across his stubbled jawline. "Unanimous verdict,” your voice drops slightly as you pull back and he smirked again, “guilty as charged.” You tossed Clint a good bye, linked your hand into your husband’s and he walked you outside into the brisk wind, his arm pulling you close, his lips pressed a soft kiss to your temple. Yeah, James Buchanan Barnes might be an insufferable, arrogant ass hole in the courtroom, but outside it he's simply your Bucky.

[sleeping-on-cracking-ice]

omg I love your work very much! You write really great and it's a pleasure to read you. I have a small request, if it's possible. I've never read this before so why write a one-shot (or series?) with a reader pregnant with chishiya ? (pleassse) With this news, it becomes extremely protective with the reader. Thank you so much !!

Yeah sure! Here you go! ❤

Trying My Best | Shuntaro Chishiya

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

{Main Masterlist}

Character(s): Chishiya (ft. Ann, OC)

Summary: You tell Chishiya that you’re pregnant and his change in behaviour from the news is hard not to notice

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, murder, swearing, graphic violence (guns), heavy angst, vomiting, panicking, blood

Word Count: 3.3k

*reader is female

Chishiya gif credit

“Chishiya, I think I’m pregnant.”

The statement hit the young man like a thousand knives. He stood up on the roof of the hotel, the moon reflecting off his glowing skin. You stared at his side profile, waiting for his reaction to the news, but he merely sighed and tucked a piece of his bleached hair behind his ears. “How do you know?”

“I’ve been throwing up a lot, without even feeling nauseated at first. It just suddenly hits and I have to run to the bathroom,” you began listing your symptoms to back your claim. “I also have been a lot more tired, going to bed super early and waking up super late. As well as my period hasn’t come yet, and it’s been a week since it was due.”

You still kept your eyes on Chishiya, trying to figure out how he was feeling. His emotions hardly ever come through his body language. He seemed too calm for your liking, but you couldn’t exactly tell because you weren’t able to see his eyes.

“It is mine?” he asked, turning to you with a serious expression. Your eyes widened in shock. “Whose else would it be Chishiya?” you exclaimed, shoving his shoulder in disbelief.

Chishiya smirked and looked away from you again. “Just making sure.”

“Do you want to keep it?”

The question took Chishiya off guard. “That’s not my choice to make,” he said.

“Yeah but if it were?” you pressed, sliding along the railing until your sides were touching. Chishiya went quiet for a few minutes, thinking about his answer. “I would hate to bring a baby into this world if I’m being totally honest,” he started. “But it’s not like we have a choice.”

You nodded and laid your head on his shoulder, feeling safe and sound against his warmth and scent. He laid his cheek on top of your head and sighed heavily.

“What are we going to do Chishiya? We’re too young to be parents, let alone in a world like this.” You felt your eyes start to water but tried your best to hold in your cries. You were terrified. Not only would you have to go through nine months of pregnancy, you would also have to play games in order to keep your visa valid.

“Hey,” you heard Chishiya say. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll push through this together. And I’ll make sure I’m here with you every step of the way.”

His words made you smile sadly, and droop your head down into your hands. You cried softly as Chishiya rubbed your back in a comforting manner.

It would be tough, impossible even. But the both of you had each other, and that’s all you needed to push through.

***********

Ever since that evening on the roof with Chishiya when you told him about the baby, he had acted strangely since.

He had lost his cocky and smug personality, being replaced by a cautious and anxious type of behaviour. You began to feel worried about him, because it was so out of character.

It didn’t go unnoticed by other members of The Beach either. Although you hadn’t told anyone else about the news (wanting to keep it between you and Chishiya), you found yourself being confronted by a lot of people asking if Chishiya was okay.

Ann mentioned that during a meeting he rushed out suddenly, not even stopping to say where he was going or why. You reassured her that he was fine, and that the stress of the games may have just started getting to his head a bit.

It was like you were suddenly dating a whole different person. There wasn’t a moment where he wasn’t by your side, always asking if you needed anything or that you were okay. He’d refuse to let you do the smallest of things, liking lifting heavy objects or even dancing in the crowd at night. There were times you would have to reason with him and remind him that you weren’t helpless, and you were basically only a few weeks pregnant, and he was acting like you were eight months. He always shrugged it off though and argued back that he just felt overwhelmed, so he wanted to try his best to be the best partner he could be during the stressful time.

But when push came to shove and you had to participate in games to renew your visa, Chishiya always insisted that he went with you. Even if you said no and tried to convince him that you would be fine, he refused to listen. You didn’t have a chance when trying to reason with his stubbornness.

*************

You had decided to participate in a game a few days earlier than when your visa would expire so you wouldn’t have the stress of having to rush to one on the night it expired. As well as you had been feeling okay for the past few hours and you didn’t want to lose the opportunity of clearing a game when you were at your best instead of being forced to play one on one of your worse days.

When you told Chishiya your plan, you ended up having a small argument. Chishiya thought it was unreasonable for you to put yourself in danger when it could be prevented, as well as he felt anxious due to you not being able to perform to the best of your ability because you were holding your child.

But after you both calmed down after realizing that arguing would get you nowhere, you both decided to go to the game that night, as long as Chishiya was able to come with you.

The game was simple enough. It was a six of clubs. Each player had to find an area of the building to stay put in no more than groups of three. You were able to move around these small areas, but once the game started and you were inside one, you were not permitted to leave your area. There were four seekers, each with a different animal mask on their heads. Each area in the building also represented one of the seeker’s animals. The goal was to kill the seeker that had the animal corresponding to your area. So the players would have to create a way to lure the seeker’s to their position, but if they lure the wrong one, they would have to hide until they left.

To clear the game, players would have to kill all four of the seekers. But if they failed to do so in the time limit, flames would emerge from the ground of all areas, killing all the remaining players.

In the registration room, Chishiya kept a firm grip on your arm, making you stay close to him. There were two tables, one holding the usual phones for the players, but the other was covered with a variety of hand-held weapons, scattered across the top of it.

Chishiya strolled over to the weapon table and scanned the dangerous objects. He reached to a moderately sized blade and felt it in his hand before turning to you and holding it out, wanting you to take it.

“Here, you have this one. If we happen to get separated and you come across one of the seekers, give them a short jab to the throat with this. I have my taser to defend me.”

“We won’t get separated, we have designated areas.”

Chishiya looked directly in your eyes and sighed, placing a hand on your head. “You know what I mean.”

You hung your head low. He was meaning if he was to die. “Don’t you dare die on me now Chishiya. If you do anything reckless, you bet your stupid ass I will make sure you survive this game just so I can kill you later.”

Chishiya chuckled at your threat, allowing you to see his shiny teeth in a smile. He knew that if there would be a point that you were in any kind of potential danger, he would throw himself in front of you. His life wasn’t worth as much as yours or his child’s, to him at least.

Around ten minutes later, you both sat in a dark room that had a large painting of a wedge-tailed eagle across one of the walls. You both already assumed that was the seeker you were trying to attract. You came up with the plan to wait a short while before starting to attract the eagle’s attention, because then other people may have already killed their seeker, making it less of a chance for a different animal to come find you.

You both sat in silence on the uncomfortable couch that had springs and stuffing pouring out of it. It was the only piece of furniture in the room, so there wasn’t really anywhere else to wait.

You groaned as a short stab of pain shot through your lower abdomen, making Chishiya snap his head to you and place a soft hand over your arm that held your stomach area. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

You waved your hand in front of you. “It’s fine, just a cramp.”

Chishiya sighed in relief and rubbed your back soothingly. You swore you could hear his heartbeat through his chest, thumping against his ribcage rapidly. He was terrified, but he sure knew how to hide it from you.

You both sat in silent together, your head leaning against Chishiya’s chest as he stroked your head softly, trying to keep your nerves down. “How are we going to keep this up Chishiya?” you asked out of the blue. Chishiya hummed in acknowledgement. “I don’t know, we’ll just take one step at a time.”

The situation was overwhelming for you. With the mix of the fear of dying, your stomach cramps, Chishiya’s comforting voice and the eerie atmosphere, you couldn’t help but feel tears of stress start developing in your eyes. Before you could even get the chance to wipe them away, a sudden sob erupted from your throat, making you cover your mouth and push your face further into Chishiya’s chest.

“Aw no, don’t cry,” Chishiya cooed, wrapping his arms around your torso and holding you close. “We’re going to be fine. Trust me,” Chishiya pulled back and held your teary face in his palms. “As long as I’m here, nothing’s going to hurt you.”

You smiled at his promise, leaning into his touch on your cheek, making his face glow slightly pink.

As you and Chishiya stayed huddled close together and spoke in whispered tones, you froze as you began to hear a small noise just outside the door of the room.

Chishiya didn’t seem to hear it, and he kept talking. “Shh!” you said, cutting him off. He frowned at you and followed your gaze to the large, grey door that stood opposite to your position on the couch.

Silence filled the air as you both tried hard to listen. The tension in the room was making you almost suffocate.

“I think there’s someone outside.” you stated, standing up from your position and slowly beginning to shuffle along the floor towards the door. But Chishiya rushed after you and pulled you back before your hand could touch the door handle.

“What are you doing?!” he whisper-yelled, turning you towards him by moving your shoulders. You blinked at him, confused. “What do you mean? We need to kill it!”

“But we don’t know if it’s the eagle or not. It’s better if we hide until we’re sure it’s the one we have to kill.”

“We haven’t got time! We have less than five minutes to finish the game, so the chance of the eagle being the only one left is quite likely.”

“You don’t know that. And we aren’t even sure whether they carry weapons or not. It’s too high of a risk, and I’m not letting you put yourself in danger like that, especially when you’re pregnant with our child.”

“For fucks sake Chishiya! I’m not defenseless!”

Your yells became louder and louder with each argumentative statement, which eventually gave away your position to the seeker that stood just outside the door.

Just as you were about to rip away from Chishiya’s grip on your shoulder when you heard the large door creak open. You both turned around abruptly at the sound and laid on your eyes on a tall figure with an eagle mask covering his face. In his hand he held a small machine gun, making Chishiya’s stomach drop at the sight of it.

“Y/N!”

He grabbed your shoulders once again as you stood there in shock, not being able to move. Chishiya yelled as he pulled you roughly further into the room towards another small door that led to a closet. A few rounds of bullets shot around the room, illuminating the small space for a few short milliseconds and making the both of you develop a piercing ringing noise in your ears.

Chishiya pulled you against him as you struggled, pushing you against the wall with him in front of you, shielding you from the seeker. As he did so, he ripped the small closet door open beside you and shoved you inside, panicking and trying to get you to safety as soon as possible.

You fell to the floor of the closet, a small groan leaving your mouth as you hit the ground harshly. You were about to stand up again to push yourself out to help Chishiya, but he kicked you down before you had the chance. Your eyes landed on his, filled with frustration, but they softened as they saw the waterfalls cascading down his face.

“Please,” he choked out, putting the door behind him so the seeker can’t shoot him from the back. “For once in your life just listen to me and stay in here. Please don’t come out.”

That’s all he said before he stepped around the closet door and slammed it shut. The absolute fear and sadness on his face was burnt into your mind. You had never seen Chishiya hold such dreadful emotion on his features. It made you feel awfully guilty for picking a fight with him.

You finally came to your senses, the ringing in your ears faded and the gunshots just outside the door made your head spin. You sobbed and covered your ears with your hands, trying to block out the sounds. Your stomach churned and groaned, and you suddenly felt the urge to throw up.

You lunged forward from your sitting position on the floor and emptied the contents of your stomach on the tiled ground, coughing and gagging on the putrid smell and taste of it in your mouth.

“Fuck,” you mumbled out, rubbing your eyes to clear the tears dripping from them.

Something shifted in the pocket of your jeans, making you turn your head and place a hand over the object. Reaching in, you hissed as a sharp blade slightly cut your finger. You pulled it out gently and held it in front of you.

It was the blade Chishiya gave you at the start of the game.

“I can’t abandon him. My last words to him can’t be an argument,” you rasped out, putting a hand to your chest to recover your breathing. “I’m not going to let him die. He can’t escape being a father that easily.”

Slowly you lifted yourself up onto your feet, using the shelves in the closet as leverage. You shuffled towards the door, holding your blade out in front of you, ready to attack if you needed. You weren’t thinking straight, at that moment you didn’t even think about the fact that the seeker had a gun, all you could think about was Chishiya.

You slowly pressed down on the door handle, opening it carefully in case the seeker was still in the room. It was back to it’s darkness, making your heart drop lower.

You stepped out around the door. It was eerily quiet, making you become anxious. Something must have happened. It wouldn’t be this quiet if Chishiya and the seeker were still fighting.

A sudden wet feeling on your foot broke you from your thoughts and you glanced down to see a dark liquid seeping into your shoe. You leaned down to look at it more closely, noticing how a strong metallic smell filled your nostrils as you did so.

It was blood, but whose blood was it?

Your breathing began to quicken as you started panicking. It was a large puddle, there was no way Chishiya would survive if he got injured that badly.

“Chishiya!” you yelled out, hearing nothing but your own echo answering you. You held no care for being heard by the potentially still alive seeker at that moment. All you wanted was to find Chishiya.

“Chishiya, please!” You lifted your feet and rushed to the grey door where the seeker originally came from. It was slightly ajar and a light from the hallway outside was shining through into the room.

You pushed through the door, almost tripping over in the process. Further up the hall, two people laid on the ground. One was on their back with no movement while the other was leant up against the wall clutching their shoulder.

The injured one wore a white hoodie, making you immediately recognize them as your partner.

“Oh my god, Chishiya.” you whispered as you approached him, eyes locking on the large blood stain on his white hoodie. “Y/N, I told you to stay in the room,” he groaned out.

You placed a hand against his that held his wound, trying to keep pressure on it to lessen the bleeding. “I couldn’t. I wasn’t going to let you die that easy.”

He smiled up at you, a pained expression on his face as he hissed and whimpered at the pain of his wound. “They got me in the shoulder, but that was it.”

“You should be fine. If we get back to The Beach and get Ann to remove the bullet, it’ll heal fine.”

He knew you didn’t really know that. You were trying to reassure yourself that he would live. But either way, he wasn’t planning on dying on you anytime soon.

You looked away from him, glancing over at the figure lying on the ground motionless. The eagle mask was still lazily placed on their face. Chishiya probably didn’t want to remove it out of respect for the individual.

“How’d you kill them?” you asked, locking eyes with him once again.

“A few shocks around the ears to knock them out. But I didn’t take any sharp blades with me so I had to get creative,” he explained, nodding over towards a small slab of metal that laid a few metres away. “After a few hits with that to their head, they were gone.”

You cringed at the thought, but you appreciated Chishiya having the bravery to do that.

You felt a soft hand pressing itself against your stomach, rubbing the spot up and down. “Are they okay?”

A smile spread across your face. “I think so. They didn’t help much by making me throw up in the closet,” you laughed, making Chishiya grin.

“Causing mum trouble already.”

A happy tune being played from each of your pockets caught your attention.

“Game Clear. Congratulations.”

The reality suddenly hit you. You were alive and so was Chishiya. And although you would have to go through many more traumatic and harsh events such as the one you had just experienced, you would at least be there for each other, whether the outcome was bad or not.

“Come on. Let’s go home,” Chishiya groaned, using his good arm to push himself up. You helped him by lifting him by his shoulders.

You were alive today, and that’s all that mattered. You would worry about tomorrow when it comes round to it.

[glowingbadger]

A student! reader (over 18 obviously) who has an awkward crush on Seteth who may reciprocate? This ask is like on the verge of the DONT section in your rules so feel free to ignore if it is too uncomfy xD

I actually got a couple asks in the wake of that post I made about teasing Seteth in the Academy uniform, so I'm glad you guys are vibing with me on that lol~

That said, I will say that a literal teacher/student thing is ehhhhh for me, BUT I think I have a way to make this work for all of us :3

Jeez, the number of times I've written Seteth fucking someone on his desk-

CW: former student, degradation, spanking, me being a Seteth simp

Seteth (FE3H) x FEM Reader - Garreg Mach Uniform

NSFW 18+

Sometimes it seems that your austere lover is even more busy in the post-war scramble for stabilization than he had been during wartime. Seteth had already been known for an almost worryingly dedicated work-ethic when you'd met him during your time as a student at the Officers Academy. Now, many years and sociopolitical shifts and one nervous love-confession later, it only seemed that more rested on on his shoulders than ever. Perhaps that's why, when you discover your old uniform while cleaning up your quarters one day, an irresistible idea forms in your mind.

Seteth's eyes drift, then refocus. He blinks away the exhaustion threatening to break him from his duties, then sighs as he runs a hand through emerald hair. The Chapel bells had signified the end of administrative hours some time ago, but he can't allow himself to become lax. There's still much to be done. It's days like this that make him think with a wry smile that his brothers would scoff at the way he's chosen to live his life, having traded fangs for bureaucracy.

His office door is propped open as usual, but he hears a knock that shakes him from his thoughts.

"Come in-" he glances up at you, and his brows furrow deeply. You can't help a playful smile at the sight of Seteth's face already tinted pink. With as much innocence as you can affect, you step into his office to show off your attire. Your old uniform still fits- more or less -but you've made some careful adjustments. The jacket and white blouse underneath are only buttoned as high as would be strictly necessary to be seen in public, exposing a daring view of your chest. Thigh-high stockings hug your legs, then lead up to perhaps the most scandalous aspect of this ensemble. You've rolled up the hem of your skirt until it flutters about your hips so short that when you're not careful, a glimpse of your backside is clearly visible. This latter point, Seteth clearly notices as you twirl for him, saying,

"Look what I found, love," He's already on his feet approaching you, and you smile up at him as sweetly as you can, "sure brings back memories, doesn't it?"

Without a word, Seteth tugs you away from the office door and shuts it firmly behind you.

"Did you parade yourself all the way here from your quarters looking like this?!" he demands, and you hear the click of the door locking behind you.

"Well I don't see how else I could have gotten here, so..." you reply flippantly.

"Goddess above," he says with an exasperated sigh. His thumb and forefinger worry at the bridge of his nose as he turns back towards his desk, "To think that anyone could have seen you-!"

You roll your eyes with a grin and follow him. You take his hands in yours, drawing them away from him and opening up his closed posture.

"Come on, I just thought you might like it," you say as you draw closer to him. Seteth sighs again and looks you up and down.

"Whether or not I like it is immaterial, my love."

"But you do like it," you prod him further, your grin widening.

He opens his mouth, then closes it again. His lips tighten for a moment, then he manages to say,

"It is... flattering."

Releasing his hands, your own travel up the front of his torso, enjoying the dips and swells of his muscled body beneath those conservative robes. You feel his chest rise as he inhales sharply, and you say,

"Have I ever told you that I had a hell of a crush on you even back in my student days?"

Seteth speaks your name with a hint of a warning his his voice. You press your body to his as your touch travels up the strong contour of his neck to tease along the line of his beard.

"It's true. I've always wanted you, Seteth," you go on, "Every single time you scolded or lectured me, part of me was... incredibly turned on. Sometimes, it was simply too much to bear," you curl a lock of his hair around your fingertips. You can see his ironclad will beginning to fracture. "Sometimes, I'd return to my room and pleasure myself, all while dreaming of you disciplining me."

Then, his lips are on yours, his kiss so hard and impassioned that for a moment, you're breathless. Your smug posturing falters immediately. He drags your bottom lip between his teeth as one hand wraps around you while the other grabs onto the plump swell of your ass beneath the flimsy coverage of your skirt. Seteth pulls you firmly against his strong body, and you can feel his cock throbbing against you. Then, as suddenly as he'd initiated it, he breaks your kiss- but before you can speak, his hand holds at your chin and forces you to meet his fierce gaze.

"So, you came here in this shameful attire with the express purpose of provoking me," his voice is a husky whisper, the mere sound of it nearly enough to make your knees buckle, "Very well then- you will have your scolding."

He manhandles you into position, rougher and more forceful with you than he's ever been. Before long, you're bent over his desk beneath him, and he stares down at you with a heat that paradoxically makes you shiver. Then, he raises a hand, and brings down his palm across your ass. You whimper and arch up from the hardwood, but he only says coldly,

"Straighten your legs."

You do your best to obey, holding your backside upright for him as though presenting him with your body. Despite your efforts, his hand descends once more, the wonderful sting of his strike warming your skin.

"Spread them wider." he commands, and once again you obey without question. You hear the familiar rustle of his belt and outer robes coming undone, and you glance back over your shoulder.

"Eyes forward, Miss Y/N." he says, his tone now balancing on a dangerous edge. You whine in protest, but follow his instructions and merely await your punishment. He gives a low hum and says, "I see you are capable of some measure of discipline, at least."

You feel the stiff head of his cock pushing between your folds, but before you can prepare yourself in the slightest, Seteth drives into your waiting cunt. Immediately, your eyes roll back and you gasp out his name. He holds you by your hips, pulling you back against him until your ass presses flush against his pelvis. He's nestled deep inside of you, his powerful manhood stretching you to your limit- and for the moment, he simply remains as such. The tip of his cock is nudging hard against your womb, sending blended pain and pleasure radiating through your nerves. It's all you can do to keep yourself positioned properly for him.

"To think that you would flaunt your body about the Monastery in such attire," Seteth snarls behind you, his cock throbbing against your inner walls, "You're every bit as hopeless as you were as a student." Once again, he spanks you, and you have to imagine by now that his abuse has begun to mark your tender skin.

You're already panting aloud for him when finally, his hips begin to move. His pace is immediately firm and punishing, his cock pistoning in and out of you, stimulating your every aching sweet spot and sending a painful jolt up your spine with each thrust. Your lips hang parted as you gasp for breath, your eyes dazed and unfocused in your bliss. A sudden rush seizes your body, and you feel your pussy clench around the massive intrusion of Seteth's cock.

"Cumming already?" he says with clear derision in his voice, though he never eases his pace as his bucks into you, "Perhaps you were even aroused by showing yourself in public in this shameful state."

"Nuh- no...!" you whimper softly, "It was... it's only for you-!"

Smack! His palm strikes your bouncing flesh once more. You're still riding the wave of your climax- or perhaps you're cumming a second time already. It's impossible to tell.

"Yet you were already soaked by the time I bent you over," Seteth goes on as he pounds into you, "One can't help but think that perhaps my troublesome student quite enjoys behaving like a wanton whore."

You can't manage to reply anymore. Your head is spinning and your body aches. Seteth's full length drives into you to its base again and again, and you can't even begin to say how many times you've cum before he begins to falter. His hips snap towards you haltingly, his body shudders, and his balls feel large and heavy as they slap against you with each thrust. It seems even his immense self-control can't stand up to this lewd punishment session for much longer. As your hands uselessly try to find purchase on the surface of his desk, Seteth leans over you, his hands now on your waist, pinning you down beneath him. His member throbs from base to tip, and with an animalistic groan, he says,

"I expect you... to take full responsibility-!"

With this, you feel the heat of his release pouring out at your core. His length twitches with every shot of cum that he spills into you, and his hands grip you so tight you can feel his nails digging along your skin. Seteth moans out your name, and you're distantly grateful that no one else stays in the offices as late as he does- you've both certainly made enough noise to have caused a scene by now.

At long, long last, his member pulses with the final throes of his orgasm. Seteth's grip on you loosens, and his office is quiet save for soft panting as you both struggle to collect yourselves. He pulls his length from you in one motion, and already, you can feel his thick seed dripping along your lower lips.

"You will head to my chambers," Seteth says, then clears his throat as he struggles to regain his usual composed dignity, "And if you don't want anyone to see this dripping out of you, you'll go quickly."

"Whose fault is that, I wonder," you manage to mumble, slowly pushing yourself up from the desk. Seteth actually laughs at this. Even now, his laugh is a rare treat that makes your heart skip like nothing else.

"I am tempted to say yours, given your intentional provocation," he says, bending over to place a soft kiss to your lips, "but I acknowledge that my own weakened restraint is partially to blame. To that end," he adds, his smile once more gentle and fond, "I am feeling rather rejuvenated. I'll be done with my work before long, and I do hope to see you in my quarters then."

[boltwrites]

Misfits - Chapter 1

Fandom: Star Wars - Clone Wars / The Bad Batch Pairing: The Bad Batch / Reader (Polyamorous)  Rating: M (Rating May Change) Tags: Polyamorous Relationship, Force-Sensitive Reader, Slow Burn

Work Summary: After a year working with the 501st, you've been assigned a new post - Clone Force 99, aka the Bad Batch. You're concerned about the transition - you found it hard enough to fit in with the 501st, and now you had to acclimate to an entirely new squad. As it turns out, the Bad Batch is very accommodating.

read it on ao3 | or read more below

If you were being completely honest with yourself, you were nervous about your new assignment.

“Nervous” wasn’t a trait most people used to describe you. No, your former lifestyle dictated that you weren’t really allowed the luxury of nervousness – force sensitives left to fend for themselves, especially those expelled from the Order, had to grow a thick skin in order to survive. Force sensitives were valuable and much sought after, and not just by the Sith. From the day you had left the Order, it had been up to you to survive, to take care of yourself, and to make your own way in the universe.

But you were still a person – a sentient being that craved some sense of normalcy and security. And you had found that, for a fleeting moment, with the 501st. You hadn’t been thrilled with the arrangement – getting roped into a war that you wanted nothing to do with wasn’t exactly on your agenda the night you were approached by ghosts from your past and led to the Temple you had left behind so many years ago.

The Jedi had created a new program, meant to bolster their numbers in the face of the growing Sith. To create an alliance with unaligned force sensitives: the Jedi would provide protection and a generous stipend for the work provided, and the force sensitives would fight alongside the present Jedi. You hadn’t really been a huge fan of the idea, for multiple reasons… but you had been presented an offer that which you could not refuse. So you didn’t.

And it had been stable, for a bit. You hated to admit that you had grown to enjoy the company of the 501st, but you had. Your General, Anakin, was understanding, and not so uptight. He was so unlike the Knights you knew when you had been present at the Temple – he was reckless, and fearless, and he followed his own heart instead of the code. Perhaps that’s why you didn’t mind his command; you knew that he wasn’t so swayed by Council politics and related trivialities, and that he cared about his men first and foremost. You had grown fond of him, even discussing your personal philosophy regarding the force with him on a few occasions, and even sparring with his padawan, Ahsoka, on several occasions. A teenager holding a higher title than you was alien, but in the relaxed nature of the 501st, you had hardly noticed it.

But, as much as you enjoyed the company of the Jedi, perhaps the person you would miss the most was Rex. Holding the same rank didn’t seem to phase the clone Captain, as Rex had been more than happy to show you the ropes and introduce you to the men. He accepted you as his equal immediately, and you had been fast friends, bonding over your similar roles in the battle and joking about the most trivial shit that left you on the floor in stitches, Rex hunched over wheezing at perhaps the worst pun you had ever constructed. He had introduced you to the other members of the 501st, saved your ass on multiple occasions, and in turn, you had confided in him about how out of place you felt within the military structure afforded you.

“I don’t fit in,” you had rambled, waving your hands emphatically after one too many drinks at 79’s. “I mean – I’m a Captain, right? Like you. But I’m not a clone, obviously.” You laughed, feeling stupid for even pointing it out. “I mean, I know there must be more out there like me – force sensitives the Jedi picked out of thin air, coerced into joining this war…”

You had rolled your eyes, and Rex had raised an eyebrow. In turn, you had waved him off, nowhere near finished your speech.

“But – the point I’m trying to make – is that it’s not like I’m fighting alongside people that are like me. Even when we work alongside the 212th or some other battalion, I think I’ve only seen one other non-Jedi force sensitive.”

“And it’s worse, you know? You guys – the men – they all call me Jedi. Because honestly, what else do you know? What do you know besides Jedi and Sith? There’s nothing really to call a person like me – but calling me Jedi isn’t right, because then I go up to Anakin or Ahsoka, and yeah, they’re nice to me, but they don’t treat me the same as other Jedi. I’m not one of them. And I’m not one of you. So where the hell do I fit in this?”

Rex hadn’t had an answer for you, and you sure as fuck didn’t know.

Maybe that’s why you were assigned to Clone Force 99.

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

“Have you worked with these guys before?” you asked, fiddling with your bag as you waited in the hangar on Coruscant. Rex stood beside you, hand on his hip as he surveyed the sky above you, no doubt waiting for your transport.

“Once. You remember when you were off on that stealth mission with Hondo?”

“Ugh, I wish I could forget.”

Rex chuckled, shaking his head at your sarcasm. “I first met them then. Don’t worry. You’ll fit right in.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, and he raised both back at you, a little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Care to elaborate as to why, you bastard?”

Rex grinned wider, shaking his head and turning his eyes to the sky once more.

“They look at the world differently. Like you do.”

You hadn’t expected that, and you stood in shock, watching Rex as he searched for the ship that would take you from him. You thought, for just a moment, you saw a tinge of sadness in his eyes, that a sliver of grief passed over you both in the force at the thought of your parting. You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could, a ship started to descend, the roar deafening anything you might have wanted to say.

The ship landed, powering down its thrusters, and your heart flipped involuntarily. You didn’t want to be nervous – you really didn’t. You had come to know clones over the time you had spent in the GAR – close to a standard year, at this point. You knew that in order to earn their trust, you couldn’t appear afraid, or out of place. You had to act as if you belonged, as if you were already their friend, in order to actually become their friend. It was surprisingly similar to working with scoundrels in the Outer Rim – faking it until you made it.

So, you squared your shoulders and tried to seem confident, and Rex’s subtle smile and firm nod only spurred you on as he stepped to your side, prepared to introduce you to the men you would be working with for at least the new few missions.

The hatch hissed at the airlock released, the ramp lowering so that the crew could disembark.

You knew little about Clone Force 99. Your reassignment had been swift, ordered straight from the top – above even the Jedi, from the Senate itself. According to your official order, Clone Force 99, a special operations unit, was in need of a force sensitive for several missions. They didn’t operate under a Jedi General, and seeing as they were a spec ops unit, the Jedi couldn’t waste any of their precious men on such a small squad. You, however, as an unassociated force-sensitive, were ripe for the picking, and considering that you had previously been assigned to the 501st, a battalion that already operated under a Jedi Knight and Padawan, you had been the obvious choice for the job.

So, you knew that they were a special unit and that they didn’t work with Jedi on the regular. Great. That was such a detailed summary of how they operated. You were so prepared.

Well, you considered. You had gone into battle previously with even less information. It had been even worse when you were operating in the Outer Rim. It could be worse.

You tried to remain optimistic as the steam cleared from the change in pressure and temperature, the hatch hissing as the troopers disembarked. You stood transfixed as they did, and as each appeared, your eyebrows scrunched further together.

You had been told this was a clone force. As in, a clone-based unit. No Jedi, and obviously no nat borns, as beside the Jedi and force sensitives, they were restricted to the Navy, not the GAR. But these men…

It was strange. They looked so different – one large, one tall and slender, another with long hair and broad shoulders. But their biorhythms in the Force were all so similar. The force sang around them like it did with other clones – there was a distinct taste of battle to them, of shared battles, countless. Their signatures sang together, like the rest of the clones’ did, as they had grown and battled together, as they had trusted one another from the day they all met on Kamino. It spoke of a deep camaraderie that was never present among nat borns, that was specific to clones and them alone, and it dazzled you.

“Captain Rex. Good to see you.”

You blinked, snapping yourself out of your analysis of the force, only to see the clone with the longer hair greet Rex with a firm grip to the forearm. As he drew closer, you started to notice the resemblance – the same skin tone, the curve of his nose, the color of his eyes – and it was confirmed through your eyes as well that this man was, indeed, a clone.

“Good to see you too, Sergeant,” Rex replied with a nod, stepping back to gesture to you. You straightened up, standing formally to address the man you would be working with from now on. You weren’t one for formalities, but you did want to make a good impression with him. Some clones were not as openminded as Rex, and they tended to be sticklers for rules and orders, offended by the slightest deviation. Until you knew the Sergeant’s preferences, it would pay to be formal.

“This is Captain Andar. She’s the force-sensitive that’s been assigned to your unit.”

You offered Rex a small smile – he knew how much you valued the term “force sensitive” and how you wished to remain distinct from the Jedi, so you were grateful that he remembered your preference.

The Sergeant frowned, looking from you to Rex and back again, and you felt anxiety coil in your stomach. The downward tilt of his lip and his disappointment in the force compounded, leaving you feeling uneasy.

“We requested General Skywalker.”

Oh, there it was. They had expected a Jedi. Not you, some half-baked, half-trained force sensitive who wasn’t even allowed to hold a title higher than Captain. You should be used to it, at this point, the disdain and the dismissal. But it still hurt you a bit more than it should have, when you were reminded that you were only second best.

“Hunter, we’re stretched thin as it is,” Rex sighed, shaking his head a little. “I did submit your request, but this came from the top. The Senate has disallowed the allocation of the Jedi anywhere other than the front lines. We have a severe shortage of Generals – Commanders, even – but I assure you, Captain Andar is more than capable. She’s one of the best men I know.”

You smiled at Rex, a soft thanks for his kind words, even as Sergeant – Hunter, was it? – looked you up and down.

“So, you’re a force sensitive,” he addressed you. You nodded, trying to get a read on him. His large skull tattoo, which took up the majority of the left side of his face, drew your attention. Most clones turned to tattoos in order to assert their individuality – you had actually seen a few of your comrades getting their tattoos, as it was a communal activity among them. You laughed along with Rex as you watched shinies cringe at their first ink, and you even has a few pieces yourself, hidden below your clothing.

But somehow, Hunter’s skull seemed different. There was a lot about clone culture you still didn’t fully understand, and this may just be a part of it. His tattoo, however, wasn’t quite as intriguing as his hair – long and free-flowing, not tied back besides his headband. There were a few long-haired clones in the 501st, but they always kept their hair tied up neatly, either in a tight bun or a ponytail. Hunter’s was clearly too short for either of those options, and it made him look rugged. You wondered what he was trying to convey with this combination of identifying markers. Clones used everything they had to assert their individuality – to designate themselves as them, to emphasize their personality, role in the military, and who they wanted to be. What did Hunter’s want to present to you with his appearance, you wondered.

But, you couldn’t just stare at the man all day – for fuck’s sake, he had just asked you a question and you’d already spent a good half a second staring at him instead of answering.

“Yes – I possess the same abilities in the force as a Jedi such as General Skywalker or Commander Tano –“ you frowned a little. You were probably closer in skill to Ahsoka, despite being far older. That tends to happen when you’re expelled from the order at fifteen and spend more time trying to simply stay alive rather than train. “- I am more than capable of completing missions where force-related skill is necessary. And, I don’t have to answer to the Council.”

You added the last part on the end with a little chuckle, because Anakin had often asked for your assistance specifically because of that fact – the Jedi Council knew that it was a risk allowing you and the other unaffiliated force sensitives into the GAR, and it was for this exact reason. You had made it work with the 501st, though, and you wondered if this new unit would find that loophole as useful as Anakin had.

Judging by the raised eyebrow, Hunter was mildly impressed by at least something you said.

“Oh, she’ll fit right in, then,” Hunter seemed to soften, just a touch? As if understanding something you weren’t yet privy to as he flashed Rex a grin. Rex smirked back, patting you on the shoulder.

“Told you,” he mumbled to you, and you rolled your eyes at him. Well, at the very least, the Bad Batch didn’t hate you.

Yet.

[shesawriter39049]

|Breakdown’s & Bugatti’s| M|

PAIRING: Namjoon x Reader (Ft a hint of Tae & Jin)

About- Namjoon just does what he has to do to keep you ....calm while at a charity gala!  

OR:

CHAPTER 1 : MEET THE KIMS OF NEW YORK 

**WARNINGS: **Semi public sex, Fingering (F receiving), Minimal prep, Light dirty talk, Light spit play, Choking, Spanking, Gags (Makeshift), Non protective sex (Creampie), light overstimulation

WC: 7K (This is a sneak peak so it’s 1.2k)

NON SEXUAL WARNINGS: (Fictional political background)  Hints at recreational drug use (Molly) Brief mentions of death, father issues, and panic attacks/anxiety (All of these topics are super minor but again, out of respect I’m mentioning them) 

The remaining “characters” will be introduced at a later date

This chapter hints at various future plots 

This is almost 2 years old, I reworked it recently 

If you’ve been following me for a while this is the original draft for “Club First Royale” 

FINAL NOTE: I haven’t been active in damn hear a year ( 8 months) So I am posting sneak peeks intentionally! No, not to torture you guys lol but to get my blog flowing again because I’m sure people aren’t really checking in anymore

OT7 ALTERNATING STORYLINES

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

FINALLY, fuck 36737 years later you spot your Kim!

Standing there in all his glory, in a Valentino slim fit navy blue suit, the jacket appearing to have some sort of paisley print, opting against a tie. Leaving his crisp white dress shirt slightly unbuttoned, teasing at his broad carnalized chest as he makes his way from the bar. Heading over to the table, which has an empty seat waiting right beside him with your name written all over it...literally!

Purposely dodging the old lady to your left in a coat that would have PETA ready to throw hands! Gaudy diamonds, terrible Botox, and smelled as if she showered in an entire bottle Chanel No. 5! 

Yeah, no, sorry, not in the mood for another meet and greet right now!

“Joonie” Squeals from your lips once you’re in close enough proximity, his dark piercing eyes cut over to meet yours. A playful smirk tugging on those sinfully thick lips of his, accompanied by those disrespectful ass dimples!

“There she is!” Eyes dripping with warmth, as he ushered you in with open arms ,and in these types of situations, Namjoon felt like home, he was your safe space. “You look fuckin good” The words hushed into your hair in a tenor meant for your ears and your ears only! A hint of something a little more than just friendly playing on his tongue. 

A small little “Thank you” leaves your lips, and if I didn't know any better I’d think the compliment made you a little flustered.

Namjoon was the definition of Ocean arm’s and goddamn if you didn't just love how big this man was! It literally felt like he was hiding you from the entire universe when he has you nuzzled into his frame! The whole interaction couldn't have lasted longer than 20 seconds in all actuality but god you needed it! 

Face flush to his chest, wrapping your arms firm around his waist, letting your eyes flutter shut briefly, a deep slow exhale flooded through your body. Inhaling the musky yet sweet scent of his cologne mixed with his natural aroma, which has grown to become a calming mechanism over the years. 

“You had me worried for a minute…” Placing a quick kiss in your hair, that you would have missed if you blinked but again, your in public soo...

Palms soothing up and down your back gently, as he breathed into your hair , pulling back a little so there was some form of personal space between the two of you.  

“Your late, even for you princess...I know you started early, I got your live(Instagram) notification, so what happened?” Head clocked to the side as he appraises you and fuck, the bass in his voice still has you all types of fucked up! Glancing over your shoulder briefly before leaning up to place a kiss on the hinge of his jaw, that tittered the line of passing as an “innocent” greeting. 

“I’m fine Jonnie it’s nothing, we just got held up in glam.., Ariel was flying in from Miami...we got a late start” Gaze intentionally diverted as you welcomed yourself to his glass of Scotch instead. Damn near inhaling the entire drink as we speak and you hated dark liquor so that alone let him know something was up!  

Merely resisting the urge to smooth out the crease he felt forming between his brows, a dry snort left his lips, rolling his eyes in response to your blatant stubbornness. Nevertheless, always the gentleman, reaching down to pull out your chair so you could take a seat next to him. Mirroring your actions just moments prior, quickly scoping out his surroundings before he brought those plush pillows he calls lips a centimeter away from your ear.

Fuck. 

  “Right, so I'm just going to assume you don’t wanna talk about it right now! Or wait I’m sorry, have you just upgraded to insulting my intelligence straight to my damn face?” 

Brow quirked inquisitively, and you could literally feel every word, tone taking on a hint of seriousness the more he talked. Namjoon licked his lips and the tip skimmed the edge of your ear and I - . 

“For one you smell like an entire bottle of Heidsieck, I can almost taste the nicotine on your tongue and you've been crying I know you. ”  

Pulling back just enough to glare down at you above the brim of his glasses, which he always wore low along his bridge. Eyes daring you to look him in the face a lie again, teasing his fingers through his chocolate locks. Styled in the perfect semi grown out undercut, the top a little on the long side, while the sides tapered into a crisp fade. Sideburns outlining that extremely understated jawline of his! Though you had to admit the yellow gold diamonds dawning his ears were kinda stealing the show right now! 

“So again, do you just not wanna talk about it right now? Or have you forgotten that I have an IQ of 137, and can smell bullshit from here all the way to Gangnam!?” 

You're having very vivid day daydreams of your hand wrapped around this man's windpipe and for once it’s not even remotely sexual! 

Blatantly ignoring the strong twitch within Namjoon’s jaw and simply saying “I’m here, aren’t I!?” Face stoic, tone flat as all hell, in case it wasn’t clear that this conversation was more than over, you opted to eye his bourbon glazed salmon until he got the hint.

 “Oh, for fucks sake! ” Hissed from his lips without a lick of heat behind them, because as quiet as it’s kept ,your lowkey Joon’s baby, which is why he cares to begin with! Picking up a piece on his fork before essentially shoving it into your hand ”Your lucky I can’t have your ass getting sick on me tonight, we still have like, 3 hours left of this bullshit.”

More like he just can’t tell you no, but hey, whatever helps him sleep at night! Sliding his plate in your direction, completely giving up on eating at this point, he knew you needed it more anyway! Finally, starting to feel your mix of poisons hit your system so you knew you needed  to even it out with a little substance. I mean yeah, you could have just ordered your own plate but meh, this was easier! 

Namjoon started busying himself on his phone while you ate, scrolling through a couple contacts until he landed on a contact labeled under “Kookie”.

“Even though you were only late because “Your glam team ran late” There were air bunnies involved, and again you just really wanna choke his ass!  “What are you thinking tonight? He’s actually on his way here right now, but he already has a couple options on him...” 

The question was vague and for damn good reason...considering…

However you knew exactly what he was referring too.., and thank god!

Speaking over a mouth full of salmon, sounding utterly exasperated!  “Honestly, any fucking thing at this point…” 

Namjoon hums thoughtfully, sucking on a Bourbon soaked Ice cube “He’ll be here in 20, I just went with Smartees…always a safe bet...” 

Smartees, candy, Vitamin -E, Molly... Estcasy...it’s all one and the same, just depends on who you ask!

He leans back in, apparently keen on whispering tonight. “Maybe, if your a good girl and eat enough we can split one before we leave...chill you out a little bit. '' Voice thick and heady, lips curling into a grin with a hint of something wicked playing on the ends, as his fingers idly ghost over your forearm. Giving it a light squeeze and regardless of how innocent the skin-ship may seem to the naked eye, you’re well aware of all the underlying innuendos behind it! 

You make a noise of agreement, trying your damnedest to ignore the slight chill coursing up your spine at the pet name. Though before you could even dwell, Namjoon was sliding back in with another update, this one however wasn't as...arousing…to say the least!

“Fox 2’s been waiting for you to get here by the way...since the event was put together by council and all. They've been wanting to talk to us together about the fundraiser, just the same shit as last year.” 

Waving his hand dismissively idly twirling the various pieces of Bvlgari around his fingers, seemingly un-phased while you on the other hand...release the most exasperated huff! Reclining against your seat, eyes rolling to the back of your head in 30 different directions! Yeah, It comes with the territory, you know this, hints Namjoons reaction, or lack thereof!  But fuck you just really weren’t in the mood to do press tonight, It’s literally physically exhausting to pretend that you weren’t just PISSED! 

“Of -fuckin- course they do!” Stabbing your mashed potatoes in a way that's... somewhat concerning… 

“Baby.” It was a warning, though his voice sat barley above a whisper, his tone was crystal! Eyes cutting in your direction briefly before dropping back down to his phone….

You didn't have it in you to argue, there’s no way around this anyway, fuck it!  “What -the-fuck-ever!” Sliding the half empty plate aside “Well, you wanna just get it out of the way now? Because I’m really not in the mood for-”

“Y/n..oh my god! Hi, honey how are you!? You look beautiful as always…” Suddenly there was a human, a human wearing the wrong shade of foundation kissing your cheek. A human by the name of Caroline, one of the local news anchors...clearly her damn ears were ringing.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi guys, that’s all she wrote, well kinda, actually she finished it like 16 months ago lol but that’s all she wrote for now I guess....

**_

_****Love you...see ya soon!!**

***SIDE NOTE, MY FRIEND MADE THE TWITTER EDIT SO DON’T ASK LOL IDK ****

UPDATE: HEADCANONS FOR THE KIM BOYS/OC

  HEADCANONS

[babyloposts]

RoseBud

My Hero Academia Gang AU

Pairing(s): Sero Hanta x fem!reader

Warnings: language, drug use, explicit content, sexual themes, gang imagery, violence

Summary: a simple crush on a guy quickly turns south as you become wrapped up in an unsafe life of lies, drugs, and violence. What happens when you become a key player in a war between to rival gangs and have to deal with a complicated love life all at the same time.

—————————————————

0.5

You stayed occupied on your phone until Hatsume returned to finish up the details of your already sore rose. In the time it took for her to do whatever business she had with those boys, your numbing cream had began to wear off.

The tension in the room was thick. The previously care-free energy Hatsume possessed was replaced with a melancholic and faraway stare in her eyes.

“Alright babe I’m all done. Remember to clean the skin with a gentle anti-bacterial soap and use alcohol-free moisturizer alright.” There was a feigned happiness in Hatsume’s voice, but her eyes said it all. Whatever Bakugou had done to her, whatever he and the red head had taken from her must have dampened her mood more than the threat from earlier.

You nodded to Hatsume and she took her leave as you were re-dressing. Luckily the top you wore was a light fabric and didn’t rub against your tattoo too much, but you could tell, this was going to hurt in the morning.

Walking back into the main lobby you only found Sero. No Bakugou, Hatsume, or mysterious Red Head to be found. You wanted to be happy to see Sero, but the look on his face and the mark on his face were more than enough to dampen your mood.

“Sero, oh my God!” He cringed as your finger lightly danced over his bruised cheekbone. Your hand flew to him without even thinking. Quickly you whipped it back and silently scolded yourself for your overbearing nature. “I’m sorry I-”

“Don’t apologize. It’ll only make me feel worse about getting punched in the face.” He chuckled, but your expression never faltered. The worry was there and it wasn’t going anywhere. Your brain was rattling with questions of ‘why?’ and ‘what happened?’, but as soon as you even fixed your mouth to speak Sero was cutting you off with the sharp movement of rising to his feet.

“Let me drive you home. It’s late.” Without checking for a change in your face or any confirmation he turned to leave the shop, trusting that you had fallen instep behind him.

The car ride to your apartment didn’t answer any lingering questions either. The only sounds that graced your ears was the buzzing of the engine and the light sounds of J. Cole songs emanating from the stereo. Sero periodically asked for vague directions to your side of town, but surprisingly he found your small complex with ease.

“Thank you.” You sighed as he shifted the car into park. The car ride may have been soothing, but the fear for your new friend’s well-being never once left your gut.

“Don’t thank me. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do. And I pride myself on being a pretty nice guy.” The smile graced easily over his face as if he didn’t have a giant bruise forming under his eye. Your expression remained unmoving, your friend full of wonder as to what he was hiding from you. Yea, you had just officially met Sero tonight and he really isn’t obligated to tell you anything personal, but he was acting like none of that crazy shit just happened.

Sero chuckled, breaking through your bewildered inner monologue to move around and open your car door for you. “Alright, this is the part where you go home. Not that I’m trying to get rid of you.” He winked.

“R-right.” You get out of the car and start to your apartment. This didn’t feel right, the energy was too weird. You knew in the back of your mind that Denki was right. He had said Sero was a good guy and you’d be in good hands with him and he was right. Sero was probably trying to protect you from whatever shady business he was apart of, but you couldn’t leave this “date” where it was. You made it about half way to the door to enter the lobby of the building before you spun on your heels and placed your hands firmly on your hips. Sero was watching you as he leisurely leant on the hood of his black muscle car. Totally unbothered as you had come to expect.

“You’re not leaving here without me checking you out.” You said with all the gusto you could muster.

“Go ahead. I’m standing right here.” He smirked and drank you in with his eyes.

“Stop being an idiot and come upstairs with me. I can’t go to sleep tonight knowing that I just let you leave here with a black eye and I didn’t even offer you an ice-pack.”

“If you wanted me to come up to your apartment with you, you didn’t have to make up an excuse.” He punctuated his sentence with the chirp of his car doors locking and jogged up next to you.

“What happened to you being a gentleman?” You snorted.

“I can’t ever turn down an offer like that from you. I’ll take my chances.” He grinned slyly. You rolled your eyes trying to act like his charm wasn’t getting to you.

Sero followed you into the elevator and into your apartment. It was quaint and homey and smelled of bergamot incense. Luckily you had cleaned up a few days ago and your apartment was presentable to guests.

“You can sit on the couch I’ll get you some ice and a damp rag.” Without checking to see if he even listened to your instructions you busied yourself hopping from room to room of your apartment to gather the supplies to help his worsening bruise. Once you were back in the living room you instinctively pressed the makeshift ice-pack to Sero’s eye causing him to wince.

“That’s what you get for getting yourself beat up because of me.” You huffed.

“What do you mean? I didn’t-”

“I heard what he said Sero. That blond guy was yelling at Hatsume saying that you left the club before you were supposed to and he had to finish the job for you. You told me that you were done for the night. I wouldn’t have cared if we stayed longer.”

“I didn’t get beat up for you.” Softly, your hand was removed from in front of his eye. With Sero’s vision no longer obscured he could see the look of guilt clear as fat on your face. “I chose to leave. I was gonna do what needed to get done regardless, but my boss has little faith in me I guess. He sent his guard dog after me instead of trusting that I know how to get shit done.” Sero grumbled at the end. That seemed to have put him off. It was the one time his chill façade had faded that night.

“So... taking me to Hatsume was an excuse?”

Quickly the charm was back and he was reassuring you that you were priority number one. “No. Well kind of. I still wanted you to have a good time, but I would have had to see Hatsume tonight anyway. So, two birds and all that.” He shrugged.

With the ice pack now back on his face you started again, you found it was easier to speak your mind this way. No seductive eyes to sway the conversation. “Okay. But still. You should have checked in with whoever to avoid all this.” You gestured to his face.

“This happens more often than you think.”

“Sero. Be serious please.” You sighed. “You didn’t need to get hurt indirectly because of me. I’m not gonna ask what you or Bakugou needed from Hatsume, because obviously it wasn’t tattoo related, but can you at least promise me that you won’t leave working just to hang with me?”

“So there’s gonna be a next time.” His eyebrows wiggled, taunting you.

You stammered. You didn’t mean to sound presumptuous, but you were hoping he would want to go out with you again. “I mean yeah, I thought tonight was fun, all things considering.”

“Yeah? Me too.” His hand began to snake to your thigh that was now exposed to him as your skirt hiked up from your sitting position. The hand was comforting reminding you of the comfort you got from him earlier that night in the car.

“I-“ Your throat all of a sudden felt so dry. Clearing uncomfortably, you began again. “I don’t know if this is really gentlemanly.” You chuckled. Sero’s gaze at you did not falter for a second. His eyes were hazy and his eyelids dropped. The look in his eyes drew you in and you dropped the ice-pack from his face.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t keep my eyes off you. You’re beautiful.” You smiled as the compliment. Again the compliment on your beauty was unfamiliar, but greatly appreciated.

“Thank you... but I-” Your protests were quickly silenced by the force of his lips pressing against yours.

Like ice against a flame you melted into the kiss automatically. Your lips mended together perfectly. His felt rough, slightly chapped, but the way he moved in rhythm with you caused you to swoon. You were both drunk on each other’s touch. His hands roamed you lower body and rested on your waist, while you explored his hair and massaged his scalp with your finger tips.

A firm squeeze to your upper thigh elicited a gasp from your lips breaking the kiss and allowing Sero just enough time to slip your blouse over your head. What a pleasant surprise it was to find you without a bra on to obstruct his view. “Nice tat.” He smirked.

To avoid the embarrassment bubbling in your chest you shut him up this time by climbing into his lap and resuming the kiss where you had left off. In this position he had free reign of your body. His hands explored every inch of your legs, ass, and back.

You were a frustrated moaning and groaning into his mouth which only made him want to touch you more. Those intimate sounds making him harden beneath you.

Sero was undeniably sexy. You had fantasized about being with him before you really knew him, but everything went beyond your expectations. The way his rough hands felt against your body, the way his tongue and lips felt tangling with yours and his scent. It was a strong mix of cologne, weed, and something almost sickeningly sweet. You could have sworn it was...

Cherry Blossoms.

As if I’ve cold water had been poured on you, you ended your make out session with your crush prematurely.

“What happened?” Sero finally showed some other emotion. A mix of curiosity and worry.

You panicked how could you explain this. “Sero... you- you don’t want me.”

“The fuck are you on? Of course I want you.” His eyes flicked down taking in the sight of you bare chested and sitting on his straining erection.

“No you don’t. I’m sorry but, it’s my quirk that’s making you like me.”

“Huh?”

previous|next

Masterlist

Taglist: @black-bhabie-2000

[morganaspendragonss]

god your bthb prompts are so good 😭😭, i was wondering if you could do any of these with tarlos?

rage against reflection

suicide attempt

flashbacks

forced to kneel.

not all of them, of course! pick whichever you think you’ll do best at!

my only preference is physical whump at some point, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to! thank you love!

thank you my lovely!!! i chose forced to kneel - i hope you enjoy it! as always, i am looking for prompts to fill the remaining squares - if you have one, don’t hesitate to send me an ask!

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: forced to kneel

ao3 | 2.2k | tarlos

Carlos exchanged a tight-lipped look with his partner as they pulled up to the scene. Every available patrol unit had been called here, and he could see more than a few paramedic vehicles on standby in case things went south. He couldn’t help the nerves twisting his stomach into knots; hostage situations were always difficult, and there was something about today that had Carlos on edge. 

He didn’t know why, but he had the strangest sense that something was about to go very wrong.

He and Rachel walked to where the lieutenant in charge of the scene was briefing them. 

“We have reports of at least one hostile, but be aware that there may be more,” he was saying. “Presume they are armed. There are at least ten hostages, located in the conference room on the ground floor. Negotiation attempts have as yet been unsuccessful; the suspects’ motives are unclear.

“A group of you will enter the building with a view to neutralising the suspect. I��m sure it goes without saying, but do not engage in a manner that would harm the hostages, or you. Let’s not make this any more complicated than it needs to be. Understood?”

They nodded, at which the lieutenant appeared grimly satisfied. He began assigning positions, and Carlos knew even before he got to them what he was going to say.

Sure enough, “Reyes, Moreno - you’re going in,” the lieutenant said. “Get ready.”

“Yes, sir.”

Carlos’s nerves only grew as they strapped on their bulletproof vests, and he checked his gear twice to make sure he was prepared. Rachel nodded tightly at him and he returned the gesture, before heading into position.

Tightening his grip on his gun, Carlos spared a brief thought for TK. TK, who would no doubt hear about this over the news, if the numerous press vehicles arriving on scene were any indication. Carlos just hoped he would make it out of this in one piece, so he could get home to his boyfriend and collapse into his arms. 

He was broken from his thoughts by the order to enter crackling over the line. Carlos let out a shaky breath, then steeled himself, body tight as they headed stealthily through the hotel. They managed to locate the conference room without any problems, though Carlos’s instincts were screaming at him that something was wrong. 

There were four of them, though; surely one of them would have noticed if anything was truly amiss?

No sound came from inside the room. Locking eyes with Rachel, Carlos held up his fingers and silently counted down before forcing their way inside, guns drawn.

There was no one there. No one, except for the terrified hostages tied up at the far end. After sweeping the room, Carlos rushed over to them, Rachel on his heels, and began freeing them, holding a finger to his lips so they wouldn’t alert whoever had done this.

“Are you okay?” he murmured, pulling the gag out of the mouth of the woman in front of him.

She nodded. “Yes, thank you, I -” She trailed off, her eyes widening at something over Carlos’s shoulder at the same time as Rachel yelled his name.

Carlos didn’t even get a chance to turn before something cracked across the back of his head, and the world went dark.

*

He woke slowly, the fog in his brain taking a long time to clear. When it did, Carlos realised several things all at once.

One: he no longer had his gun or radio.

Two: he was tied up, and a quick glance to his right showed him that Rachel and the other two officers with them were in a similar situation.

And three: he might not make it back to TK after all.

It was this final thought that kicked his brain back into gear, and he frantically tried to come up with a plan to salvage the situation. There were two men standing on the other side of the room, and a third by the door - the hostage-takers, he presumed. None of them were looking directly at him, so Carlos tugged experimentally on his bindings. To his surprise, they were fairly loose; if he was quick, and quiet, he might be able to get free.

What he’d do then, Carlos didn’t know, but one step at a time.

Keeping one eye on the men, he carefully maneuvered himself, twisting until, at last, the ropes fell away from his wrists. He let out a relieved breath, then turned to Rachel, reaching to pull at her bindings.

He didn’t get far, however, when hands were on him, wrenching him away from her.

“Hey!” one of the men growled. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Carlos didn’t answer, praying that Rachel would have the sense to finish freeing herself and do something while they were focused on him. He yanked himself out of the man’s grip and managed to deliver a blow to his face before he was grabbed again, this time being forced to his knees.

The cool metal of a gun pressed against his forehead, and Carlos didn’t miss the sound of the safety clicking off.

“Trouble, aren’t you?” the man holding the gun hissed. “We’re going to have to do something about that.”

Carlos closed his eyes, allowing his body to sag minutely. The grip they had on him was too firm; there was no way he’d be able to escape from this kneeling position without earning a bullet to the head. 

Though, he thought mournfully, there probably wasn’t anything he could do to avoid that bullet at this point anyway.

For the second time, he thought of TK, holding his face in his mind’s eye. He’d never hold him again, never kiss him again, but if he had to die, then Carlos was going to do it with the comfort that his last thought would be of TK’s smile as they had parted that morning.

Distantly, he heard a quiet click, and then -

*

TK checked his pocket for the twelfth time in five minutes as he exited the locker room, grinning when his fingers closed around the small velvet box. 

If everything went to plan, in a couple of hours, Carlos would no longer be his boyfriend, but his fiancé. The thought sent a thrill through him, though it also simultaneously set his nerves spiking. Logically, he knew nothing could go wrong; he’d planned the evening to a tee, and he was confident that Carlos would say yes.

Buying the ring had been hard, memories flashing through his mind of the last time he had been in that position. But he was doing it for all the right reasons this time, and TK knew that Carlos was it for him. Proposing would be a formality, really, though that didn’t make it any less special.

He’d even begged Carlos’s mom’s help in teaching him to make tamales, and he was going to pick up a flower arrangement on his way home.

Everything would be perfect.

His teammates were still sitting in the communal area when he entered, eyes glued to the tv screen. TK frowned; he thought they’d have all gone home by now.

Paul was the first to notice him, and TK’s concern only grew as he got everyone else’s attention, their worried gazes falling on him one by one.

“What’s going on?” he asked warily. They had a silent argument, before Marjan slowly got to her feet, approaching him hesitantly, hands clasping and unclasping in front of her.

“I know you’re probably going to anyway, but don’t freak out.” She took a deep breath and met his eyes. “There’s a hostage situation at that big, fancy hotel across town. Apparently it’s pretty serious, they’ve had to send police in, and, um, well…”

Marjan paused, and TK felt dread wash through him, knowing what her next words would be.

“He’s there, TK. He’s gone in.”

*

TK spent the next hour alternating between pacing and staring at his phone, desperately hoping for it to ring. Paul had shut the news off pretty quickly after an announcement that shots had been fired had nearly sent TK into a panic attack, and now they were all watching him closely, to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid, TK guessed.

It made his skin crawl, having so many pairs of eyes on him, even if he understood why. He appreciated it, really, but if anything, it just made the urge to run stronger. He was about to make a break for the doors - just for some air - when a shrill sound cut through the tense silence.

TK’s phone rang.

He didn’t bother to check the id before answering, almost dropping his phone in his haste. “Carlos?”

“Um, no,” a distinctly female voice said. “It’s Rachel, actually, I’m Carlos’s -”

“His partner,” TK cut in, anxiety roiling in his stomach at the knowledge that it was Carlos’s partner, not Carlos himself who called him. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” Rachel answered, apparently undeterred by TK’s lack of politeness. But he barely got a moment to feel relieved before she continued, “He’s in the hospital.”

TK let out a choked sound. “Hospital?” he whispered, the team looking up at him in alarm. “Hospital isn’t fine.”

“I know; that came out wrong.” She sighed. “Carlos got caught up in the middle of the shooting and a bullet grazed his side, but he’s okay, I swear. Last I heard, they want to keep him overnight for observation, but he’ll be fine.”

TK collapsed into the nearest chair, his head falling into his hands. Someone - he couldn’t tell who - started rubbing soothing circles on his back, and TK unashamedly leaned into the touch. “Which hospital is he at?” he eventually managed.

“St. David’s.”

“Thank you, Rachel.”

“Yeah, no problem.” A pause. “He really saved our asses today. I thought you’d want to know.”

TK breathed out shakily as he ended the call, allowing himself a moment to ride out the residual anxiety still coursing through his body.

“You okay, man?” Paul asked tentatively.

TK looked up at them. “Can one of you drive me to the hospital?”

*

As Rachel had promised, Carlos was sitting up in bed when TK arrived, looking as he always did - beautiful, happy, alive. His face lit up with a grin when he spotted him, and TK all but ran to him, barely remembering to thank Judd for the ride.

“Carlos,” he choked out, tears springing unbidden to his eyes as he carefully hugged him, mindful of his wound. Carlos hugged him back, his head buried in TK’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, Ty,” he said. “I’m okay.”

TK pulled back, his hands moving to frame Carlos’s face. “Are you, though?” he asked, checking his boyfriend over.

“I am,” Carlos promised. “They’re even sending me home tomorrow.”

He smiled, and TK couldn’t help but to smile back, falling into the chair next to the bed. He grasped Carlos’s hand in his own, rubbing his thumb across it as a comfortable silence fell between them.

“So much for date night, huh?” Carlos joked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

TK laughed drily. “Yeah,” he said. “Your mom’s going to be so disappointed you never got to try the tamales she helped me make.”

He said the words without thinking, and regretted them as soon as they were out. TK winced as Carlos straightened, turning to stare at him.

“You’ve been cooking with my mom?” he asked, shock and confusion evident in his voice.

“Um.” TK swallowed nervously. “Yes?”

Carlos frowned. “But… Why?”

“I, uh… Fuck.” TK closed his eyes, knowing there was no way he could talk his way out of this one. When he opened them again, he shifted in his seat, breaking their hands apart, and reached in his pocket for the ring box. “For the record, I had a whole plan for tonight, and not one part of it involved my boyfriend being in the hospital.”

“What are you talking about, Ty?” Carlos asked, bemused.

TK smiled at him, pulling the box out. Carlos’s mouth dropped open in shock when he saw it, and there were tears in his eyes when he looked back at him.

TK took a deep breath. “Carlos, these past two years with you have been the happiest of my life. You brought colour back into my life, and you’ve kept it there every single day. I love you more than I ever realised was possible, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. I never imagined that I would be asking you this in a hospital room, but I guess it’s kind of fitting for us, huh? So - Carlos Reyes, will you marry me?”

For a few nerve-wracking seconds, Carlos just stared, gaze flicking between TK’s face and the open ring box, tears slipping down his cheeks. Then, he brought his hands to TK’s face, a broad smile on his lips.

“TK Strand, I will marry you.”

And TK laughed, not caring about the tears on his own cheeks as he slipped the ring onto Carlos’s finger, leaning forward to kiss him. They were both smiling too much for it to be a proper kiss, but TK found he didn’t care - nor did he care that his plan hadn’t worked out.

Because Carlos Reyes was his fiancé, which TK thought was pretty damn perfect.

[justice4harwin]

Darklina prompt

Inspired by Taylor Swift’s Champagne problems

A/N: TBH, I’m not sure this is the actual assigment, but the lines of the song that I choose are just too lovely for me and I could’t help it. It wrote itself, i swear

I don’t know if this is what you had in mind @mayatried but I hope you like it :)

Set during S&B

“Your Midas touch on the Chevy door

November flush and your flannel cure”

Alina treaded carefully through the dark. Night seemed to be abandoning its deepest cycle, but there was yet time before the sun arose. Everyone at the Little Palace slept, even Baghra in her hut -she suspected the woman slept, at least-, and Alina had begun to take advantage of such lonely hours to practice.

She walked around first, rounding part of the lake before taking a turn into a maze.

She liked the place. The polished bushes bloomed with flowers of various colors carefully planted within by the gardeners, and there were stone benches here and there.

A part of her wanted to get lost in there and never be found.

She shuddered and rubbed her arms, wishing she had taken a thicker kefta with her instead of the one currently upon her more rounded figure.

It was still strange, looking in the mirror and no longer seeing the bones of the ribs through the soft skin, or seeing her cheekbones softer and pink and full.

Her hands went up. She liked her new cheekbones. She felt pretty.

Deep into the maze, she shook her head to rid it of such frivolous thoughts and took a firm stand.

She closed her eyes and called the power inside of her. She had been able to summon after letting it all go at Baghras hut, but her progress was slow.

She supposed once couldn't heal a lifetime wound in a few weeks, but everyone had their eyes on her now, so maybe she'd have to suck it up.

A small bulb of light appeared in her hand, taking the shape of a sphere. She smiled softly, feeling its warmth.

Gently, she disentangled a hand and created another sphere of light.

Doing her best to ignore the cold and the sleepiness, she willed the spheres to stretch and join.

Trembling, they did.

It's a start.

She then forced them to unify into one long stick of light, flexible like a whip, and then she stretched her arms, elongating the light.

Next, she tried to grab a solid hold of the light with one hand and let the other drop.

To her surprise, it didn't burn her; it just filled her with a sense of power and surety.

Hesitant, lifted her arm, the light going with her, and slashed.

The flowers  on a big stone vase banished as if they had never existed, yet the stone remained practically untouched; a black, long spot its only scar.

"Impressive."

She jumped, turning to see The Darkling stepping forward, that blank expression on his face making it hard for her to believe him.

"I thought it wasn't enough." She said, remembering his words.

"It's not." He said, matter-of-factly, and Alina felt a small sting on her chest. "But you managed to get a solid, physical hold of your power already, however short lived it was, and that was impressive. It should have taken you more time."

She felt herself blushing under his praise.

"How did you find me?"

He remained silent for a moment or two, calculating probably as he always seemed to do. She couldn't really distinguish his features that well in the dark.

"Sometimes I like to sit at the edge of the lake to think. I find the still water most calming."

"You have a lot on your plate, don't you?" She asked, genuinely concerned.

He seemed to have huffed a laugh.

"You don't have to worry about me. Your only job is to strengthen your power."

"But I do!" She hurried to say,cheeks red. "I-I mean, I worry about you."

She looked down, and barely felt him approach as his boots stepped on the grass.

"You do?" She wasn't sure what to make of his tone, but Alina felt the need to reach out and take his hand.

Instead, she took a step forward and summoned her light, delicately running it over his face. He looked perfect, as usual, yet she wondered…

"When was the last time you slept?"

He chuckled, not turning away from her light.

"Do I look tired to you, Summoner?"

"No, but Genya is a miracle worker."

His lips quirked up.

"She is, indeed."

"A pity her talents are wasted on the queen and king." Alina said before she could even think of holding her tongue.

She tensed, but The Darkling nodded slowly, a shadow passing over his face.

"It is. She looks like a candle with her white kefta, but she'd be a walking flame in red."

Alina couldn't hide her surprise. Would he dare to promote her?

The Darkling stretched his arm out.

"But no more talk about that. Come, I shall teach you something."

Learning from The Darkling himself? Alina would never miss the chance. 

She eagerly followed him deeper into the maze, into a spacious area occupied only by grass.

Gracefully, he sat down.

"Next to me."

Much less gracefully, she did as he commanded, trying not to get grass or mud on her kefta. She placed her legs underneath her body and her hands on her lap, more than ready to soak in all the information he had to give.

She looked at his profile and felt her breath caught. Even in the dark, his pale face seemed perfectly clear to her.

She leaned her back against the wall of bushes, wincing only slightly as some small sticks pinched her back.

“Now what?”

“Are you afraid of your powers?” he asked.

“No.” she was too quick to reply.

“Do not lie to me, miss Starkov. I don’t take kindly to deceit.” he spoke calmly, yet she felt a small flicker of fear roll over her body.

“I am.” she muttered, so quietly she herself almost didn’t hear the words. She bit down on her lip and then opened her mouth: “I’m scared to not be enough to destroy The Fold. I feel like I’m not advancing fast enough. I’m also scared of how powerful I could get if I,...if I unleash it, and I’m scared it’ll consume me and I’ll let it.”

And that was only part of it. What if she accidentally hurt someone innocent? What if she failed? Why did people keep watching her in such various ways?

“A power, a gift like ours, is not bestowed upon just anyone. We have it because we were meant to wield it; because we are the only ones strong enough.” he leaned towards her, his expression almost gentle. “You will be magnificent, miss Starkov. I am well aware of what you could accomplish, and if you do get too lost, I’ll be right there to pull you back.”

“Do you promise?” she felt silly asking, like a child, but she needed some reassurance.

Everyone was so expectant of her, of great achievements she was terrified of, that having someone who could understand her and seemed to genuinely believe in her capabilities -without making a fuss or calling her a Saint- sent a tidal wave of reassurance that could’ve dropped her on her ass if she hadn’t been already seated.

“I do.” he replied, his voice filling the entire space they occupied. He leaned back, face blank again. “Now, close your eyes.”

Alina did as he said.

“Deep breaths.”

She slowly took in a big gulp of cold, late-autumn air. She shivered.

“Now,” he said, and his voice sounded right by her ear, his beard brushing against her soft skin and threatening to ruin the whole process. “Feel the light.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“It’s inside you, miss Starkov.”

“Alina.”

He said nothing, but she felt him tense. “Feel it.”

She reached down, deep within herself for that almost familiar warmth, and smiled softly when it answered her with an enthusiastic twinkle.

“Now, imagine it all over your body, every inch of it, warm and gold.”

That twinkle in her chest seemed to have steadied, and with the utmost focus, Alina began to picture it covering her chest, travelling down her arms and legs, all the way to the tips of her toes. 

She shivered again, the sudden change in temperature taking her body by surprise.

She opened her eyes and looked down, and found a faint glow on her hands. She felt the currents of wind but they didn’t affect her. She was as warm as if she were well sunked in a hot bath.

She looked up at The Darkling, who almost smirked; she was sure of it!

“Well, now I know I won’t freeze to death on the mountains.”

“You plan on going to the mountains?” he asked, almost amused.

She flushed.

“N-no, it was,...um, it was a joke.”

He chuckled silently, and Alina tilted her head as he shifted in his place.

“You’re cold.”

“I am perfectly fine;  thank you, Alina.” he answered, the perfect liar.

The use of her name made her falter, and after a second it made her feel more secure, however odd that may sound. She scooted closer to him and again, bought her hand up to his cheek. It was cold.

The Darkling almost seemed startled for a moment, but then, when Alina thought he might push her away, he slowly lifted his arm, bringing her to his side.

She looked up at the stars shining down on them, at the full moon, so beautiful and unreachable, just, or so she thought, as the man next to her.

“Can you feel the warmth too?” she asked softly.

A moment passed and she felt his lips ghost over her hair.

“I can feel you, Alina.”

She couldn’t help but smile and cuddle even closer, daring to press her front to his side and take a hold of his dark cloak.

Slowly, he placed his chin atop of her head.

Alina didn’t move, enjoying the moment. Cheeks red as they could be and her heart beating faster than a rabbit’s. She just enjoyed the silent environment, the quiet rustle of leaves and the voices of night.

Cuddling with the most powerful, dangerous man in all of Ravka, Alina felt the pressure set upon her shoulders since she arrived at the Little Palace fade away, like it didn’t matter. Yes, it was a tough task; but just like with anything that proved difficult, she’d advance little by little.

She dared to wrap an arm around his midsection, his own free arm engulfing her as well as he muttered something.

His breathing had slowed and steadied, his heart beat strong inside its cavity.

Carefully, she lifted her eyes as best she could without moving him, and realized he had fallen asleep.

With a contented sigh, she buried her face into his chest and closed her own eyes.

Somehow, the feel of his cloak around her, his frame against her, and her dim light keeping them warm felt far more comfortable than the luxurious bed all but forgotten in her bedroom.

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Absolutely

Look. I was in a mood. I usually feel a little weird about posting smut bc that good ole christian repression and guilt and I’ve been sitting on this for a minute but fuck it. It’s time to post. 

Pairing: Geralt x fem!plussize!reader

Warnings: smut. hella smutty. subtle ‘I don’t like my body all that much’ vibes but its minimal

Summary: It’s been too long since you've had a good shag and Geralt picks up on it. 

Traveling with these idiots was usually great. As much as Geralt pretended to be a hardened brute, he was funny as hell and rather sweet. Jaskier was, with no better way to phrase it, himself, and you got along with them quite well. 

However. 

By the fifth town you had to nearly flee because Jaskier slept with the wrong person or the people were just royal ass holes, you were getting agitated. It had been three months since you'd had sex and a good couple weeks since your last orgasm because you weren't ever alone. Not for lack of trying. You tried making excuses to go to bed early when you were sharing rooms and did your damnedest to find lovers for a night. It just took a little more time for you to find someone in a tavern who enjoyed your fuller figure than it did for the boys. Partly because you had to be more careful, men were far more dangerous than most of the women they chased, but partly because you knew you were selling to a niche market. By the time you've got a sure target, some kind of shit hits the fan and you're tugged away from your night without the dynamic duo of chaos.

On week three with no genuine 'me time' you woke from a vivid wet dream to Roach sniffing your hair and wanted to scream. 

"Good morning sunshine!" Jaskier called, already packing up camp. 

You sat up, glaring at him, "Is it?"

He frowned at you, "Geralt though you might be grumpy today. Did you accidentally mind meld with him again?" 

You forced a laugh, "Fuck I hope not." The dream was absolutely about him. 

You went about your business trying to keep from being outwardly angry.

When you and Jaskier had everything packed and ready to go you looked around, "Where the hell is Geralt?" 

Before Jaskier even had time to turn and look at you, you were being lifted in the air. 

"Right here." Geralt answered, swinging you over his shoulder. 

This was not helpful to your plight. There was nothing you wanted more at the moment than for Geralt to pick you up and pin you against a wall, or tree if need be, with your legs over his shoulders and eat you out until you came so hard you couldn't breathe. 

"Put me down!" You squealed, feeling your body react involuntarily. 

He plopped you on your feet, giving you an inquisitive look, but keeping quiet. It always made you suspicious when he didn't ask questions.

"She's cranky, just like you thought." Jaskier explained. 

The trek into town was longer than you had hoped but, thankfully, Geralt had let Jaskier hitch a ride so you could make better time. If you'd had to have him riding double behind you, with his complements and natural flirting nature, you might have lost it. 

On entering the pub of the inn you'd booked you just sighed and ordered a stiff drink. The pest problem must have been nocturnal because there were barely any patrons. You eyed a group of men in the corner but upon catching some of their conversation you gave up. Though, Jaskier was getting on swimmingly with one of the barmaids. 

You scoffed and drained your drink, better to be numb with alcohol than this ridiculously horny. 

"You alright?" Geralt asked. There was an edge to his voice that you couldn't quite describe and it concerned you. 

"Define alright." You set your empty mug at the end of the table and crossed your legs.

He just raised his eyebrows at you.

You slapped a coin on the table and shot him a defiant glare, "I'm going to bed." You hoped to Melitele that he would leave you alone.

You didn't hear him following you until you'd made it halfway to the door of your room.

"What the fuck Geralt!? Can't a woman have a few minutes alone!?" 

There was a small smile playing at the edge of his lips as he walked past you to the door, "Is that really what you want?" 

Your eyes went wide for a moment before narrowing and following him into the room, pressing your back against the door as you closed it, "What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Anyone ever told you you talk in your sleep?" He hadn't turned around to look at you yet, clearing his armor and bags off one of the beds.

Your ears were almost ringing and you felt that familiar light tug in the pit of your stomach, but you did your best to remain cautious, "No…" 

"Hmmm. Well you do." He finally turned to look at you, face completely unreadable, "Usually you just mumble incoherently, but this morning…" 

You swallowed hard, not sure whether to be embarrassed or apprehensive, "So what did I say?" 

He grinned and closed the distance between you, his hands came to rest on the door on either side of your head as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, "My name… 'harder'... make me cum for you…" 

Your whole body tingled at his words, your fingers twitched, wanting to curl around his collar and wind through his hair. There was no hope of dignity as you felt your heart rate spike when he leaned back to look you in the eyes.  

"Do you want me to? Make you cum for me? Over and over?" You could have sworn you felt his voice reverberate over your whole body.

Your own voice was breathy and desperate when you finally found it, "Fuck yes." 

His pupils dilated as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, running his fingers down your jaw, then neck with the lightest touch, "Are you sure?" 

You hooked your fingers through his belt loops and pulled him to you, "Yes." Your voice was firm and decisive, your brain finally catching up to your body, "Are you?" 

He chuckled softly, "Absolutely," he hooked a finger under your chin to hold your head steady as he kissed your forehead, cheeks, eyelids, nose, anything but your lips between every word, "You… drive… me… crazy… every… fucking… day… I've… wanted… you… for… months." 

You moaned in frustrated pleasure at the way only his words were affecting you, tugging at his belt blindly, "Such a tease…" 

With that he was gone, you opened your eyes to find him leaning against the bed frame, staring at you with a hungry expression, "Strip."

You unhooked your dress in the front, embarrassingly fast if you were honest, letting it fall to the floor leaving just your slip and stockings. Normally you'd be nervous, even with previous repeat lovers you'd been worried about showing all of you. But Geralt had treated wounds all over your body, he knew exactly what he was getting and the growing bulge in his pants told you he liked it. You tugged the silky straps of your slip over your shoulder and shifted just enough that it too pooled at your feet with your dress. 

"Shit…" he breathed, eyes roaming over your body like a man starved. 

You stepped out of the dress and your stockings and underwear, suddenly thankful your boots had a tear in them so you didn't have to fight to get them off. Standing between his legs you tugged at his shirt as you kissed him, surprised by how supple his lips were. He broke the kiss only to rip his shirt over his head, pulling you back to him immediately. You ran your hands over his chest, gripping the dark hair there with one hand while the other cupped his jaw. He uttered a low moan that sent fire through your body, your pussy absolutely aching for him. 

You gasped when his hands gripped your hips and held you to him as he fell back onto the mattress. He didn't miss a beat, rolling over you and pressing an urgent kiss to your lips.

"Geralt," you whined, helplessly grasping at his shoulders.

"What do you want?" He asked, more teasing than anything, kissing down your neck and across your collarbone.

"Make me cum. Please. I don't care how." You were almost embarrassed that you were already begging. 

He continued pressing kisses down your body, pausing to bite the skin beneath your breast, something you'd specifically told him you were less than pleased with about yourself, "Yes ma'am." He licked over the sting left behind by his teeth and continued his path down between your legs. He took his time making a trail of bite marks down your abdomen and across the inside of your thighs.

"Fuck Geralt. Please." You bucked your hips to him, desperate for his touch. 

He finally obliged, spreading your folds with one hand and gripping your hips with the other, "mmmm so wet for me." He almost said it to himself and the reverence in his voice was too much for you. 

Before you could say anything though he licked a stripe up your folds and you shivered as you moaned. His tongue found your clit as your hands gripped his hair, doing your best not to pull too hard. He moaned into your pussy, making you buck your hips against his arm. After so long with only your hands for pleasure your body was quick to respond. He picked up on this as he watched you writhe underneath him and inserted two fingers, devastatingly slowly. 

"Oohhh damnit Geralt. More." You begged, not caring who may hear through the thin walls. Immediately he added another finger, pumping and curling faster, in time with the flicks of his tongue at your clit. 

You felt that frenzied rush that comes right before bliss and tugged at his hair again. His groan sent you over the edge, shaking and praising his name like a sinner saved. 

He held your hips down, stroking and licking at your clit until your trembling subsided. 

You untangled your fingers from his hair and hooked your finger under his chin, guiding him back up to kiss you as you basked in the relief your body felt. The taste of you on his lips only reigniting the fire. 

"Feel better?" He ribbed, lying next to you and running his hands all over your body. 

You giggled as much at his words as the way his light touch tickled your skin, "Much." 

His hands squeezed your ass, pulling your thigh up over his hips, "Up for more?" 

You leaned into his kiss, palming his bulge beneath the fabric of his pants, "Absolutely." 

When his breath caught in his throat you beamed with pride, knowing this powerful man was putty in your hands. You unbuckled his belt and slowly pulled it from it's loops, tossing it somewhere behind you before you, making sure to look directly in his eyes. You bit your lip and brushed a hair from his eyes, enjoying the slight dilations and narrowing of his pupils as you moved on to the buttons at his waist. You had meant to tease him like he'd teased you but he rolled back and swiftly removed every last stitch of clothing before you could protest. 

"If you keep teasing me with that look in your eyes we'll never get there." 

He rolled back over top of you, swallowing your soft gasp in a kiss as his cock pressed against your thighs. You wrapped your legs around his waist and gripped his shoulders, any thought of taking your time completely forgotten. He lined himself up so he was sliding through your folds, slick and throbbing in anticipation. 

"Fuck…" he gasped, falling down to one elbow. 

You brought a hand to the nape of his neck and kissed him gently, whispering against his lips as he panted, "Fuck me Geralt. Hard." 

A shiver ran over his whole body but he wasted no time guiding his head to your entrance, slowly pushing in. 

"OH my gods…" your fingers dug into where they gripped him, completely losing control at the sensation of being so full. You clenched around him, pulling a moan from his lips as he bottomed out against your cervix. He stilled except for his chest heaving over you, giving you time. 

After a moment you kissed him again, biting his lower lip as you pulled away, "Go." 

His hips drew back immediately at the command, snapping forward with a force you'd only dreamed of. He pressed a kiss to your nose, searching your eyes for any sign of discomfort. You answered by thrusting your hips up to his, and tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck.  

He picked up a brutal pace, making your toes curl and turning your moans into grunts with the sheer force of his thrusts. You arched your back, pulling him as close to you as you could. His forehead pressed against yours, both of your eyes shut as your bodies were overwhelmed with the pleasure from the other's touch. 

"Just perfect for me." His voice was barely audible, picking up the pace even more than you thought possible. 

"I'm all yours darling." You thrust your hips up against his, finding the rhythm he'd set, "Harder, I can take it." 

He growled, the sound vibrating from deep within his chest as he slowed his pace but did exactly as you'd asked. His thrusts were pushing you up the bed, slamming the headboard against the wall with a force you thought might put a hole in it. 

You screamed his name, so close that you were seeing stars. 

Geralt fell to his other elbow, growling in your ear, "Cum for me."

The tension in your gut snapped as you writhed through your orgasm. Raking your nails down his back, you felt his hips stutter in one final thrust as your walls fluttered around him before he came, all growls and curses. If you'd been conscious of them, you might have been embarrassed by the senseless whines that escaped you. His thrusts slowed as you both slowly came down from the high, savoring every bit of the moments you could.

When you finally opened your eyes, his were still shut. You brushed your finger over his brow, almost amused that this would be the only time you didn't see them drawn together, letting yourself indulge in tracing his features. You let your legs fall from his hips as he slowly slid out of you and a sigh left your lips, happy and calm. His eyes finally opened when you tugged the tie out of his hair from where it was barely hanging on to a handful of strands. The way he looked at you made you want to melt, a mix of concern and awe that you'd never seen before. You smiled at him, giving his hips a gentle reassuring squeeze as if to say 'no you haven't broken me, and yes I'm better than fine'. His hair brushed your cheeks and neck as he leaned down to kiss you, slow and deep. You cradled his jaw in your hands, taking everything in with the nagging fear that he might pull away and leave you there. 

When he eventually did pull back it was only an inch or two, a shit eating grin plastered on his face, "Did I make your dreams come true?"

You rolled your eyes, swatting at his shoulder as he shimmied down your body just enough for his cheek to rest between your breasts.

"Sarcastic little shit..." you whispered, reveling in the comforting weight of his body on yours. He hummed a response and extended his arms up your torso,  caressing all the parts of you he could reach before settling on holding you close.

You rubbed the tops of his shoulders, his biceps, his back, kneading out knots when you came to them, willing him to relax. 

As you laid there, murmuring jokes and small vulnerable allowances, a voice in your head suggested you could be happy with each other, but you shooed it away. You'd rather enjoy it for what it was than get your hopes up. 

[anonthenullifier]

How would Wanda and Vision (and Billy) react to Tommy being taken by that mutant experimentation facility that wanted to turn him into a weapon?

When I saw this, the entire story immediately formed in my head and I had to write it. Thank you for the ask, I had a lot of fun doing it! I hope you enjoy :D.  

Warning: story has some strong language 

------

It took an enormous amount of convincing for them (Vision in particular) to agree to leave the boys alone for the weekend. There were many hours of whining and conversations about how they are sixteen now and how they need to be treated as adults. Surprisingly, it was Tommy who flipped the narrative by presenting them thoroughly researched details of their current private island get-away. In the back of his mind, Vision knows he should be more than just mildly worried about what antics they are getting up to and if they are remembering to eat and sleep, except that would mean ignoring the murmur of the ocean and the wistful smirk on his wife’s face and the way her curls sway in the salty breeze and the adorable wrinkles that have formed by her closing her eyes to fully enjoy the soft caress of their freedom. Though he can efficiently consider all of this at once, he would rather take Wanda’s near constant advice to live in the moment. So he does, scooping up her hand and bringing it to his lips. “Would you care for more sangria?” 

Wanda pops open her left eye to look at him. “That depends.” 

“On?” 

“Whether you deliver it in your speedo.”  

Vision contemplates the request, not in a serious manner, but in a theatrical show of potential uncertainty despite both of them being aware there is no physical way for him to resist the insatiability sending scarlet flares across her iris. “At the Maximoff resort,” her eyebrows perk up at the lathering of poshness and the implication of the direction of their evening, “we do pride ourselves on catering,” a shrug of his shoulders dissolves his prior floral shirt and Bermuda shorts into the little teal number from their honeymoon so many years ago, “to our guest’s every need.” 

“That’s good because I,” before he can grab her glass, Wanda fishes out one of the inebriated peaches, sliding it into her mouth with a saucy wink, “have lots of needs.” 

“I will return momen-” the thought hangs limply in the air as he watches Wanda freeze, her back straightening out and hands gripping the armrest of her beach chair as her lust cracks and gives way to a distant stare. Whatever she sees is not on this beach, may not even be in this universe. “Wanda?” Each passing moment crawls up Vision’s spine, prickling his skin and sending his mind into a whirlwind of unease at his ignorance of the issue. After what feels like five minutes but is actually ten seconds, Vision kneels in the sand beside her chair, haltingly bringing his hand to hers, “Wanda what is it?” 

“Tommy.” 

All joy leeches immediately from his mind, replaced only by a frigid shroud of concern. “What’s wrong?” 

To the untrained ear, the whirring and sputter to Vision’s left would be no different from the tropical breeze dancing around them, but Vision’s auditory system is functioning perfectly so he turns expectedly towards the blue portal of their son. “Mom,” Billy rushes through and the fact he’s barefooted and wearing sweatpants with a pajama shirt only unsettles Vision further, “Dad. They took Tommy.” 

Wanda’s head snaps to the side to stare in the general direction of their son, her eyes still miles away despite her voice trembling with rage in the present, “Who?” 

“I don’t, I don’t know.” Nervously he brushes a hand through his hair, “He went out for a run and then I felt,” Billy’s eyes are wild, tinged with blue, much like Wanda’s own get when she struggles with overwhelming emotions, “we were connected, you know, like you say we should be and-” 

Vision has known anger in his own life, whether it is in the way he never hesitates to decimate those who harm Wanda, or in the calculated attacks of logic he uses on politicians and other officials who are being discriminatory and lecherous, or even in the calm, but firm words he uses to discipline the boys, but this feeling now, this dropping of his stomach and the roiling, severe heat that flows through his synthetic veins and the complete and utter single ideation of causing pain to whomever did this...this is new. “Can you track him still?” 

Pinched eyes, a shaky nod, and a prismatic cloud confirms the question. Not wanting to pressure their son more than he, no doubt, is already doing to himself, Vision directs his attention to Wanda, recognizing the same fury in the serious scowl on her face and he does a less than admirable job of remaining calm when he assures her, “We will get him back.” 

 “I think…” Billy’s neck cranes to the right as if he’s trying to peer around a corner, “I found him.” 

The strain in his voice kick starts Wanda out of her seething and into action, “Let me help.” Scarlet twines its way through Billy’s electric blue seeing glass, seeming to clarify the situation even if Vision stands helplessly blind next to them. “Vizh,” he snaps to attention, taking in every piece of information and constructing a mental diagram of the situation, “there’re six armed guards,” Vision’s fingers curl into a tight fist at the number, “two holding him, two flanking those, and two in the back near the door.” The people are added to his schematic. “It’s a small room.” 

“Looks like an operating room.” 

Billy’s addition is helpful and causes Vision’s body to become denser, his feet burying in the sand as his mind churns through the tactical options instead of getting mired in what might befall Tommy if they do not hurry. “Billy, you are going to portal us there. Let your mother and I eradicate the targets.” 

Only the surprised warning in Wanda’s, “Vision” alerts him to his harsh vocabulary. 

“I mean we will subdue and neutralize the targets.”  

Billy doesn’t care about the terminology, still focused on his connection to his twin. “What should I do?” 

It is tempting to tell him to remain here, safe on the beach, but if all Vision feels is a need for retribution, he imagines Billy’s own feelings are similar and being sidelined will only increase his worry. “You get your brother.” With a hand on each of their shoulders, Vision draws them in for a pre-fight huddle. “The most important thing is to get Tommy back safely.” Synchronized nods confirm the obvious goal. “The second most important outcome is that we make these individuals rue the day they decided to target the Maximoff family.” Battle ready smiles meet his words, all of them ready to tear the world apart if that’s what it comes down to. “Let’s get your brother.”

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

 Tommy is pissed. For one thing, mom and dad are never going to trust them alone again and that’s utter crap because it’s not his fault some shady ass organization was apparently creeping on him and waiting for him to be alone. He was even following dad’s stupid running route of highest visibility to cars and he was wearing the even more idiotic reflective vest because he was damned if he ruined their earned freedom. It is going to be so vindicating to inform dad that the vest gave his position away.   

Another point of annoyance is that these assholes used some sort of electrified net to catch him and it hurt like hell and they somehow have restraints that can withstand his powers. This was clearly well planned and that is a little flattering but mainly it’s infuriating. “Do you assholes know who I am?” Of course they do, but clearly they haven’t much thought through what kidnapping him would mean for their own well-being.  

The guard to his right doesn’t directly acknowledge the comment, instead asking her superior, “Can we please gag him?” 

Good, he’s glad his charming banter is annoying them. “You all are so fucked once they get here.” 

The superior also pretends like he’s not talking. “Get him on the table and sedate him.” Great. “He won’t remember anything once we’re done.” Not ominous at all.  

“Do you have to get training for how to be a villain?” He’d really, desperately like to speed away now, but not even vibrating his molecules is working on these shackles, so he needs to take the Stark approved quippy distraction strategy. “Because the delivery of the threat was a bit halfhearted. I’m not even scared.” A lie but they don’t know that (hopefully).  

The two guards gripping his arms drag him to the middle of the room where there’s the stereotypical solitary operating table with leather straps and a blinding fluorescent light above it (does someone make their living doing interior decorating for bad guys? If they do, they suck at it because this is drab and uninspired). Tommy resists as best he can, flopping his body in the opposite direction of their tugging all while sending out a mental SOS. Truthfully he doesn’t really understand Billy or mom’s telepathy, he just knows one of them always shows up eventually when he thinks about wanting company. And he really wants them here right now.  

A taser is rammed into his back and he crumples forward with an irate, “Assholes.”  

Almost giddily they strap him onto the table, the leader grinning down at him through the military grade face shield. “Halfhearted or not, you’re ours now.” 

“What does that even mean?” The man moves away without even the decency to shrug, radioing to someone that the subject is subdued and ready for the procedure which Tommy is most certainly not ready for whatever they plan to do and so he squeezes his eyes shut and sends out a very, he thinks, clear cry for help.  

When he receives an answer in the form of a thought dropped deep into his brain, one that says  We’re almost there , Tommy knows he should play it cool, bemoan the fate he is about to befall and rub the egos of the sadistic bastards around him, but he can’t help himself, turning to the guard tightening the strap across his chest, “You are fucked.” He turns his head towards the other guard, “You’re fucked too.” And then he just channels Oprah herself and spreads it to everyone. “And you’re fucked, and you’re fucked, and you’re fucked.” A shimmering portal opens up on the far wall right next to one of the door guards, to whom he shouts, “And you are most definitely fucked.” Before the promise is fully out the guard is pulled through the portal with a strangled scream, the wall closing up milliseconds before the others in the room turn towards the noise.  

Mr. You’re Ours Now glares at Tommy and then instructs the rest of the room. “Orders are shoot to kill, do you copy?”  

“Affirmative,” answers the guard next to him.  

That’s how this is going to go? Well then a very sarcastic, “Good luck” to them.  

Luck is not on their side because another portal opens and the second door guard is pulled through, dad phasing through the man’s body and solidifying just in time to punch another guard so hard it shatters their visor. Shit.  

The room erupts in chaos, a scarlet mist descending around them, the guards try to shoot but their guns are ripped out of their hands. And then there’s dad’s vibranium gleaming as he phases in and out of mom’s carefully crafted cover, the frantic and pained screams of the guards echoing as they fall, and this, this is how you do drama because if Tommy wasn’t the one being rescued, he’d be praying to whatever god might take mercy on his soul. “You okay?” Billy’s voice cracks with concern which is just really sweet.  

“Took you long enough.” 

And the concern is gone, “I was doing the responsible thing and getting backup.” 

He should be gracious right now because he is actually thankful but, “I don’t think you can call it backup when they’re the ones doing all the work.” 

There’s the steely gaze Billy’s perfected, “Do you want to be rescued or not?” 

“Thomas,” dad hovers beside him now, the transformation of his terrifying rage into fatherly concern contorting his features into a mildly upsetting scowl. “Are you injured?”  

It’s not often he’s the absolute center of attention and if he were to lay it on a bit thick it would be wholly understandable because he was the one who was rudely kidnapped, but he also has never seen his family this worried before so he defers to downplaying the experience. “Just a bit sore,” while also being truthful, “They electrocuted me a few times.” 

Finally, someone removes the straps and then dad breaks the constraints around his ankles, allowing him to blissfully stretch and shake out his muscles. Billy helps him sit up and the sight he’s met with is unexpected. “Why are you in a speedo?” To be fair, mom is in a beach cover and Billy’s in pajamas, but at least they’re clothed.  

“Um,” it seems the choice of clothing skipped dad’s mind, his hands running haltingly over his bare chest, “it was a tactical choice meant to bewilder and divert attention.” 

Scary, rage filled dad is gone and replaced with the normal, dry humored and dorky one, a fact that comforts Tommy far more than he’d ever admit out loud. “Sam’s never taught us about the tactical speedo.” 

Dad’s shoulders rise up a half inch and then fall with grace, “It is an advanced skill meant only for the most stalwart of Avengers.”

Which would be more believable (still not close to it, but marginally more so) if he didn’t instantly morph into his uniform when the door opened and the rest of the Avengers came inside, dressed and ready for battle. 

Mom directs them, “Vision has downloaded the schematics and files and will share them with you.” A chorus of chimes indicates the message has been delivered. “If you don’t mind,” mom wraps her arm around Tommy’s shoulder, easing him off the bed and helping steady him with her powers, “we’re going to leave the rest to you all.” 

Sam’s, “We got it covered,” absolves them of any responsibility in taking down the rest of whatever shady organization this is.

Even though Tommy would love to be part of an actual Avenger’s mission, he’s okay with sitting this one out…for the most part because as they walk towards Billy’s portal, Tommy shimmies free of his family’s helping hands long enough to stare smugly down at the broken nose of the leader of the assholes, “Told you you were fucked.” And then they leave, certain that the message was loudly received: no one messes with the Maximoffs.  

[kireii-writes]

pairing(s): reader x chisaki kai (overhaul)

fandom: BNHA 

warning(s): swearing, mentions of blood, yakuza, violence, mentions of torture, mentions of death, kidnapping, murder, mentions of drugs, au where everyone is a normal human with no quirks whatsoever , badass reader

-

summary: in which y/n is a young yakuza leader who one day caught the attention of the leader of their rival gang, chisaki kai. 

-

The heavy stench of smoke hung in the air as you blew out another puff, dead eyes looking out of the glass windows and into the night skyline. Shiny, you thought. the night view of this city was dazzling- but at the same time, dangerous and deceptive. just like the life you’re currently living. Taking in another deep puff, you let out a deep sigh, along with the smoke that dissipated into the air. gone, but not quite. How long has it been since you’ve stepped into the world of the yakuza? For as long as you remembered, your father had always been the one in charge of the yakuza while you- his precious child, lived a life away from the dark and grim world of the yakuza. It has always been that way, until that one day when your father was taken away from this life, five years ago. Shot by a rival gang, didn’t make it in time. That was what you were told. Naturally, the next-in-line would be you. It was one thing to see and hear stories of the yakuza, but overseeing the entire organization was another.

Two gentle yet firm knocks interrupted your train of thoughts, and a stream of white light trickled into the dark room as the door opened. 

“Boss,” a rough voice called out. 

“They got him.”

It was the third time this week. The third time one of your underlings have been killed. This time, it was a new recruit. Sighing to yourself, you stubbed out the cigarette that rested in a delicate balance between your fingers. You can never have a day of peace as a yakuza leader. Pushing yourself up from the plush sofa that occupied the middle of the huge room, you involuntarily let out another deep sigh as you made your way out, the clacking sound of the heels of your shoes on the hard floor echoing through the hallways. 

“... Found dead in an alleyway, he was most likely beaten to death by a bunch of them.” You were informed as you looked down at the poor boy’s cold and lifeless body, his wide and sunken eyes stained with tears seemed to bore into your cold, emotionless ones. His dead eyes reflected the fluorescent light above but no matter how the lights flickered above him, he never flinched. His once pale skin was now covered with cuts and bruises blooming all over his paper skin like deadly flowers. Part of you felt apologetic- the teen had joined the yakuza because he had nowhere else to turn to. He had pledged his remaining life to you and the organization, only to have his troubled life cut short by a rival gang. 

“Boss, don’t you think this is getting a little out of hand?” Your lackey commented. “If this goes on, everyone’s going to think we’re pushovers. Let me bring a few men, and we’ll teach those punks a lesson or two.” Involuntarily, you closed your eyes, as if in attempt to drown out the pounding headache that was creeping in. 

You had to say something- anything. But what? When you were first appointed as the next leader, half of your late father’s followers were unhappy. They didn’t see you as a leader. Instead, all they saw was a sheltered child who didn’t deserve the title of ‘boss’. You knew that was going to happen, which was why you worked your ass off to prove that you were capable of running the yakuza on your own. You have your father’s blood running through your veins, of course you were capable of running the yakuza. Slowly but surely, many of them started to respect your hard work and dedication and began to acknowledge you as their new leader. However, there were still some of them lurking in the shadows who would wait for the time where you fail and use it to strip you of your title. It was at times like these where you had to make the right decision. one wrong move and you could be toppled in an instant. Feelings of irritation and frustration bubbled up inside you as every pair of eyes were on you at that moment, awaiting your next order. Lighting the cigarette between your lips, you blew out a puff of smoke as you made your next decision. 

“No,” your command settled onto your followers, and immediately hushed whispers filled the room. “We wait. If we blow things up now, there’s no knowing what will happen next. The Shie Hassaikai is one of the most influential gangs among us. Picking a fight with them would be the last thing you want to do.” 

“But the boy’s the third victim this week! If this goes on, they’ll soon climb over our heads!” the same lackey argued. “Sure, they may be influential, but we’ve been the biggest and most powerful yakuza in the past decade. We could easily destroy them! Or are you too afraid to face them, only hiding behind your title?”

“... No.”

“But-” the man tried to argue, but was immediately thrown onto the cold, hard floor by another of your follower. 

“I’m saying,” you started as you casually placed a foot onto his chest. “If you want to be killed, go ahead. I won’t stop you. What’s one less mouth to feed? But I don’t need a bunch of Shie Hassaikai guys to come to my front door and slaughter everyone, so dogs like you should shut the hell up do as you’re told. Do you understand?” You let out a breath of smoke as you narrowed your eyes at the man beneath your foot. “If you understand, scram.” 

Just as you thought you had more than enough to deal with already, a sudden bang of the door was a clear enough indicator that there was more to come.

“Boss, we caught one of them.”

“One of what?” 

“One of the Shie Hassaikai guy’s responsible for the lad’s death. He’s in the interrogation room, would you like to question him?”

Letting out a frustrated grumble, you put out the fifth cigarette you’ve lit today. For heavens sake, you can never finish smoking one cigarette with so many things happening. Letting out yet another sigh, you followed the guy that had informed you of the man in the interrogation room. 

~~~

The interrogation room was dimly lit, and in the middle of it was a man tied to it. He was beaten to a pulp, and you couldn’t help but snicker at his bruises, blood coating his skin.

“I see that my men have been treating you well.” You broke the silence as you sat on the sofa in front of the captive. 

Silence met your statement as the man that was brutally thrashed glared at you.

“Mind telling me why you had to go ahead and kill my new recruit? Poor boy, his first official job and you killed him.” You sighed as you lit yet another cigarette. At this rate, you’re bound to finish the entire pack just in one day. Why did you start smoking anyway? As far as you can remember, your late father was always smoking, whether he was handling yakuza business or not. Did it run in the family? Or was it because of something else? You couldn’t remember. 

“Oi, bastard.” Your lackey in charge of overseeing the tortured man landed a blow on the captive. “When the boss asks you a question, you answer, do you understand? You’re in our territory, we can kill you anytime we want.” 

“There’s no need to rush.” You drawled, inhaling a large puff of smoke, your foot unconsciously twirling lazily. “I’m sure he’ll speak soon enough if he wants to protect the Shie Hassaikai.” Letting a tiny smirk line your lips, you turned to the man in front of you. 

“Unless, he wants the Shie Hassaikai’s drug dealings to be exposed.” Almost instantly, the beat up man perked up and looked at you with the expression you’ve seen on so many men who’s ever stepped in here before.- one of paralyzing fear, anxiety, and burden of the yakuza’s secrets. 

“How... h-how did you know about that?” 

“So you can speak.” A bright smile pulled at your lips, almost childlike. Anyone who saw your expression would no doubt think you have a few screw loose in your head. But once you step into this life, everyone’s bound to go crazy at some time, right?

“You’re going to answer my questions first, young man.” You let out a silent chuckle as you made your way towards him. The frightened man looked almost the same as you- 28 years old at most. And yet you were here, calling him ‘young man’ like you’ve seen your father did so many times as a child. Maybe you just got used to it. 

“Why did you kill my new recruit?” Inhaling a puff of smoke, you blew the thick and intoxicating smoke right into his bruised face, causing him to gag and choke. Sighing, you extinguished your almost finished cigarette on a fresh cut of his skin, causing the man to scream out in pain. 

“Be-because our boss told us to! He said to dispose of any of your men t-that we see. I-I swear, it isn’t my fault!” The man confessed as terror thundered through his entire being. 

“Are you responsible for the recent deaths of my men as well?” You asked, your voice dangerously low as your eyes meet his eyes dark with fear. Swallowing hard, all he could manage was a small nod.

“B-but I wasn’t entirely responsible for it! T-there were others as well!” By now, the man was shaking with fear. Everyone in this line of work knew that once you were captured, it was the end. Maybe it was to buy a little more time for himself to stay alive, but what for? He was going to die anyway.

Sighing to yourself, you straightened yourself and made your way towards the exit. 

“I’m done here, do whatever you please with that scum, but dispose of the trash properly later on.” 

The last thing you heard, were the screams of the man before everything went silent abruptly. 

~~~

“What are you going to do now, boss?” Your right hand man asked as he stood in your office, your back towards him.

“Leave.” Was all that came out of your mouth.

“.... Then, if you’ll excuse me.” With a silent bow, your most trusted man exited your office, a soft click indicating that you were finally left alone. 

How many times have you wondered how your life would be like if your family wasn’t involved in the yakuza? Hundreds of times. What if your father was still alive? You could be living the life you always have- free from yakuza dealings, free from the dark, grimy world that you live in everyday since you turned twenty. A typical 25 year old adult should be having a normal and stable 9 to 5 job as a source of income- not having to deal with men getting killed almost everyday, gang fights, and illegal dealings.  But then again, there was no denying that at times, you felt as if this was the life for you. It might not be so bad after all, right? Compared to going to a 9 to 5 job everyday doing the same thing over and over again, at least this life gave you more excitement, in a way. But at this rate where you don’t have time to breathe before a new problem arises, you might really go crazy one day. But this is the life meant for the child of a yakuza leader- isn’t it? To follow in their parents’ footsteps and bring the organization to greater heights. That was why you were born, isn’t it? 

The sudden, shrill whine of the telephone in the cold and dark office made you snap out of your thoughts instantly. Cursing silently under your breath, you picked up the phone, wondering who it could be. 

“I heard you caught one of my men.” A dangerous yet soothing voice crackled through the phone. 

“Looks like it’s time to pay my respects, isn’t it?” You snickered. Who would have thought the man responsible for all this would show himself this fast?

“Isn’t it, Chisaki Kai?”