#and that touch of gentleness is too much from the worst person on earth who you hate so much

[rotisseries]

alright im giving in im finally asking. what in the everloving fuck is narines

HIIIII HELENA honestly I'm so glad you asked I think you'd love them but BASICALLYYYYY one of my mutuals, hella, @tbos-main, has this really cool original fantasy wip, the blood of serpents, which I am OBSESSED with so I do fandom post about it like any other media, and two of the characters are nate and rin. well. naithairan and herines technically but I'm on nickname basis with them. and I can explain tbos in more detail but since you asked about narines specifically, they are two characters who are very much on opposing sides of the central conflict and in a way that IS irreconcilable like. it has to be genuine all consuming hate it's bad. but they're also narrative foils and parallels and whatnot and outside of the main ideological difference in regards to the central conflict, they are very similar people in a very fucked up way, they're both martyr figures with a lot of religious themes, they both have had to learn the language of violence well, they both are willing to go to unfathomably low depths of morality and monstrousness in the pursuit of protecting the people they love, they're both incredibly calculating and callous, and so they have this INSANEEE dynamic that is very much "I see me in you I see everything I hate about myself in you I need to kill you because I need to be killed but yet I cannot kill you because that would be like taking a knife to myself and we recognize each other deeply and intimately in a very specific way no one else can and I HATEE you for it" and so like. they should fuck about that. obviously.

[never2tired4u]

Hey!! I hope you're doing well! I just read your post about the dateables reacting to MC back in human form, and I really loved it! Your writing was great and I loved how their personalities were on point!! I saw your asks were open and wanted to ask if you'd like to write a bit of a domestic fluff with the dateables reacting to MC cooking/teaching them how to cook human food! (especially Solomon bc he's the worst at it lol) Thank you and please write more in the future, you're amazing 💗

— 🦇

Note: Thank you so much 🦇 anon! Also I love this idea, unfortunately i actually didn't know what to do with it :( but tried my best and sorry for not replying soon. Been busy with life in general… Came back to NB yesterday only to get a message from Luke saying he was being chased by Devildom tomatoes lol

You are amazing too and I will try to write more in the future <3

OBEY ME! Dateables x Reader

Characters: 《°•[ Solomon , Simeon , Diavolo , Barbatos...]•°》

Summary: 《°•[ Cooking with them!]•°》

Warnings: 《°•[ Fluff, Solomon wanting to cook.]•°》

With Solomon, cooking isn’t easy. He is a free spirit, curious, and itching to try different combinations with a smile on his face, be it potions or spells, or cooking. Thankfully, he is powerful enough to fix those failed experiments and let it be a learning experience for him, except when he is tasked (himself) to cook. He tries, fails, and just accepts it as perfection, never learning his lesson, never improving. You don’t have the heart to tell him to not join you in the kitchen since he seems to genuinely love cooking for people, however, sometimes he really tests your patience.

Like right now, as he tries, once again, to add some sort of weird ingredient to the pot. Something that DEFINITELY doesn't belong in a human dish…Or any realm's dish for that matter.

“Oh, you caught me.”

“Put that down.” you warned him with a stern voice, Solomon just smiled while slowly lowering the thing, “Not in the pot!” you yelled, barely managing to stop him before he added his ‘touch’ to the meal, “Solomon, what did we talk about?”

Solomon frowned, “I know, it just…” sighing as he glanced at the book, reading the instructions again, “The recipe seems so boring.”

“It’s a soup recipe.”

He dramatically sighed again and stepped back, putting the “ingredient” he was going to add back into his pocket, making you wonder what it even was. Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by him wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and resting his cheek on your shoulder, “Sorry, I promise I won't try to add any DemonFlower Eyeball into it.”

“Just don't add anything!”

“Okay okay,” he laughs, “Only human stuff, got it.”

A smile formed on your lips after hearing his voice next to your ear, a gentle and calm tone. Ready to do anything you requested from him. For now.

After all, even though Solomon is a free spirit, his love for you makes him come back down to earth. If it is you who tells him to follow the recipe, then he will. And surprisingly enough, he isn’t a bad cook once he stops his ways of…adding things.

He fetches you some ingredients then stands next to you, waiting for your instructions (since you sadly don't trust him much to do anything on his own). You finished rather quickly and ready the bowls. Both of you sit on the table and Solomon takes his first sip, “And here I thought I was the teacher in our relationship. It seems I have a lot to learn from you too.” he says as a genuine smile graces his lips.

“Hm? Why do you say that?”

“This tastes delicious.”

“It's a simple dish.” you say, a little confused by his low tone, and the far away look in his eyes.

“It's been forever since I've eaten any human world food,” his smile never leaves his face, “It may be a simple dish but that is what makes it so special. Thank you for the food.”

Simeon is someone who enjoys cooking, not as much as Luke perhaps, but he is still okay at it. For him, trying new recipes every now and then, helping Luke around is something of a routine at this point. Cooking in general has always been a job he needed to do, until his view changed quickly when you decided to enter the kitchen with him. The angel then quickly realized that cooking can also be fun and engaging too.

If you are around that is.

Tonight, you had a craving for some human world food. Luke asked to try some too so you decided to get to work and Simeon offered to help.

“So, where do we start?-” he is suddenly stopped by your arms wrapping around him and completely stops moving for a moment, however he gently hugs you back.

“Simeon?” you ask in confusion, “What are you doing?”

Simeon slightly pulls back, only to realize you were just tying the apron around him, “Oh.” he smiles gently, while mentally hitting himself on the head and pulls back, “I thought you wanted a hug.”

“Maybe later, now let's get to work!”

Simeon is out of his usual attire and wearing something more comfortable instead, with an apron tied to his waist thanks to you.

He listens to what you want to make and what he can do. (Un)fortunately he usually finishes his work pretty fast and then tries to take over yours to help which you refuse. Giving him another, much more simple task and while he does that Simeon often starts to ramble.

“...Would it be rude of me to say that I like how human ingredients are so normal?”

“Compared to what?”

“Anything from Devildom really...” Simeon can't help but look guilty, it feels like he is insulting the whole Devildom himself, a place most of his friends consider a home, but he can't help it, “At least these don't try to attack us.”

“Oh, that's true,” you almost let out a chuckle at how nervous Simeon seems as he chops tomatoes, probably imagining them starting a fight, “What about Celestia?”

“Celestia? Well, hm…” his hands pause for a moment as he gets lost in thought, “They are…Okay? Though, some of them are…Too much.”

You aren't really sure what Simeon means by ‘Too much.’ but decide not to ask about it as he seems annoyed. A memory of an energetic cucumber crossed his mind, perhaps?

“I'm glad you like our normal and boring tomatoes then.”

Simeon laughs nervously, “Yeah, I like it, especially since they don't grow legs and run around.” he turns to you with a smile, “So, we can just focus on making the food and enjoy talking like this.”

Even after the food was finished and the three of you sat down to enjoy the food Simeon can't help but ask you to teach him more human world recipes, “Luke enjoyed it.” he says. Hoping you don't notice how he just wants to spend time with you.

“You want me to make a human world dish?”

“No.” you shake your head, “We are going to make it together, Barbatos.”

Barbatos smiles, when people come to him they always have requests. For example, Beelzebub. The young devil always says he wants to eat his cooking, or use the big kitchen at the palace for a new dish. No one ever came to him and asked to cook together since it was usually his job alone to do, he is a butler after all.

“Alright. However, I don't know the dish you want to make, so…” he can't help but chuckle a little as he bows his head, “Please treat me kindly.”

His words are a complete lie though, Barbatos may not know how the recipe goes but he can tell what needs to be added. He is a great cook, and so graceful while he does the work. He is pretty quick too so the food is almost done already.

“Hmm…” after taking a small sip from the pot you can't help but think that something is missing, it tastes good but it could be better you think, so you turn to your helper, as he likes to call himself, “Barbatos, what do you think of this?”

He casually takes the spoon you hold for him and hums, “It's great, but how about adding some bay leaf?”

“...Bay leaf? We have that?”

“I do, I sometimes use it.” he walks up to a random cabinet and pulls out a jar, “It goes well in foods that need to be cooked for a long period of time. You just need to take it out after it's done.”

“Huh. So, you use human world ingredients in your cooking?”

“Only when you are around,” you watch as Barbatos adds two leaves into the pot, “It's amusing to see your reaction when you eat what I cook for you.”

“That's why they taste so familiar!?”

Barbatos innocently smiles at you, “Don't forget to stir, dear. Or would you like me to take over?”

“Barbatos, don't tell me you actually have been making me human food that looks like Devildom food.”

“I thought the familiar taste would make you happy.”

“...That's kind. Thank you.” you smile, but then squint your eyes at him, “You sure there's nothing else���?”

Barbatos doesn't say anything as he starts cleaning around the kitchen, picking up the things you've used and no longer need.

Of course there's another reason why he secretly cooks human dishes for you. It's so you can visit him, compliment him and ask for him. It's a selfish reason. However, for someone like him it's not surprising. He is a demon, and when it comes to your time and attention, he selfishly wants it all.

You are asking the prince, the future ruler of Devildom to cook with you, a human dish? And he agrees with a laugh? If anyone heard this, they would be thinking the Devildom is coming to an end. His butler however, can't help but think Diavolo agreed without hesitation only because it's you and only because it's a way to escape from his duties. Considering the prince has never touched an utensil in his life, it is weird to see that he seems so confident.

His confidence, however, quickly shaders as he accidentally pushes on the tomato too much while trying to chop it and makes a mess. Covering your aprons and walls with tomato seeds and juices.

He turns to you and smiles, “Have I ever told you that you look good in red?”

You scoff but can't help as a smile grows on your face, “Yes, usually when I'm in a red outfit, not when in a red mess.”

“Small details.” he laughs, but a sigh leaves him as he looks down at the chopping board, “I didn't think they would be so soft and delicate.”

“Don't blame the tomatoes.” when he turns his sad eyes towards you, you wave your hands around quickly, a feeling of guilt settling in, “Don't blame yourself either, accidents happen in kitchens! We can still use it.”

“That's great! Then I'll continue with the cutting,” he says, smiling again, “I'll be more careful from now onl.”

Diavolo may not have a lot of experience in the kitchen, no matter which realm the food is from, but he still finds his own failures fun. Laughing when he accidentally drops the salt shaker in the pan or when he almost burns himself. As a prince he never had mishaps in the kitchen before.

It's new, it's entertaining.

“Thank you for helping me.” you can't help but look at the bandages around his fingers, “Even though it was kind of a disaster.”

Diavolo laughs as he searches for the plates,”No no, thank you! This was a lot of fun. And we get to taste the fruit of our labor too!” he finally finds the right cabinet, “And I'm always happy to learn about the things you enjoy, like this dish.”

He might still have a lot of papers to read and sign but every once in a while he goes into the kitchen to cook the recipe he learned from you. He is extra careful while making it if he is making it for you but is more care free if it's only for himself. He also eats it when he misses you when you are unable to visit him, the same human world dish brings comfort to him as he imagines it bringing comfort to you.

Ⓒ2024

[strangelittlestories]

Day was beginning to break when I finally reached the lake, the dawn sun making the sky blush with the promise of brilliance.

I was all ready for the big reunion. I was all ramped up to tell that glorified naiad that I was back and her old beau, dear old daddy Art, was still dead. I wanted to see the look on her big old watery face when she saw Excalibur in my hand; ooh, I was horny for that look.

But as I saw the first rays of morning begin to light up the water like a disco ball, I knew something was wrong. The dirt felt wrong. The water was quiet. The air had a whiff of sweet rankness.

This was bad. This was very very bad.

The Lady of the Lake was dead.

Or, at least, she was *gone*. But for a creature like her, if she was gone from the lake, then she may as well be dead. This was her home. More than that, it was her place of power. It *was* her.

In my hands, I felt Excalibur shake and heard the high keen of scraped steel. The sword was wailing. I might have been too.

I didn’t know what to do, so I just sat down on the bank of water, laid Excalibur out on my lap, let the smell of wrongness fill my nostrils, and got into a good solid fugue state. The sun was high in the sky by the time I was jolted out of it by a light touch on my shoulder.

“Hi ‘Dred.”

Oh no. Oh sweet gods and monsters. It was him. Those eyes like a fire burned down to embers. That beautiful soft and sad smile, like a kicked puppy was transformed into lips by a witch. Those damned cheekbones. That dumptruck of an ass.

I was not prepared for this. Like, I know there’s not good time to run into your ex, okay? But while mourning your departed nemesis slash surrogate grandmother figure? When you’ve only recently crawled out of the earth? That’s gotta be Top 5 bad, right after ‘while puking at the bathroom at the Teen Choice Awards’.

“Percy? You’re … you came back too?”

“I never died, dear one,” His voice was quiet, worn smooth by time. “I have been here all along.”

“Ah.” I looked up at him with tears, dirt and snot on my face. “Grail shit.”

“I’m sorry. I know you had your differences, but she was still family. This must be difficult.”

“What happened?”

“A factory. Chemical waste. Improperly disposed of.”

“So? They just poisoned her? Just accidentally? Just because that’s what they do?”

“No.” His eyes were so wide, so bright. “The spiritual cut was too potent, too concentrated. More than the echo of nature defiled, this was a weapon made with intent.”

“And you didn’t stop them?”

“I am … limited in what I can do. I observe. I advise. I remember and I revere.” 

That was Percival for you. Always a simp for reverence.

“You’re a pissing *knight*, Percy. When did go all fuckboi and ghost on valour?”

“It’s more ‘Grail Shit’, I’m afraid. I can be the person who tells you that which you most need to hear on your worst day. I cannot be a noble protector or holy avenger, no matter how much I might wish to.”

“Right. Okay. Well this makes things simple at least.” I stood up, brushed myself off, and hefted Excalibur. “I can do holy avenger.”

“Careful, ‘Dred.” Percival placed a hand on either side of my face and looked me steadily in the eye. “They say that the one who goes looking for revenge should dig two graves.”

“Why? Are they killing two people?”

“No.” A bitter smile twisted those gentle lips. “One for their target and one for themself.”

“Then, honestly? I’d say this ‘dig two graves’ dickhead shows a *woeful* lack of ambition.”

Percival looked down at the sword in my hand.

“You’re not going to try and talk him out of this?”

“I could try, Sir Percival,” Excalibur spoke for the first time since we got to the lake. “but honestly, my heart is not in it. They killed The Lady. I’m just about ready to dig a whole mess of graves.”

[jaidens]

Maverick Mitchell angst fic where breakdowns in front of the reader after Goose's death

And Feel You Forget Me Like I Used To Feel You Breathe

pairing [s] : pete mitchell x reader

warning [s] : mentions of : death, crying, regret, blame |

a/n [s] : ty for the request! [requests are open]

After Goose’s death, Pete became distant and gone. Drinking away his feelings and long motorcycle rides to flee away from his problems, and people that brought up his problems. He only called Carole five times since that day; deciding that in her head, he was the worst person to ever touch the ground of the Earth.

One day he comes home smelling like cheap booze. He shrugs his bomber jacket off of him and sets it on the hooks that are on the wall. You're sleeping on the small couch with a thin blanket over you. The television is on and it's playing some dumb movie from the 70s. You pop up whenever Pete accidentally drops one of his boots too quickly on the floor.

“Pete! Oh, I was worried sick. Where have you been? Oh you smell like alcohol.” You stand up and walk over to Pete and smooth out his t-shirt. He doesn't hold eye contact with you. He looks at the ground like a kid who just got in time out.

“I was nowhere. Get off me.” The anger spits from his mouth and he pushes against you. You immediately turn to look at his back side. “What? I’m an adult. I can do whatever I goddamn please!” You can't even tell why he's so angry. You haven't crowded him or anything, he's just getting angry at his own head. You attempt to walk closer to him and he's huffing and puffing while throwing together a sandwich on the island counter.

You're dressed in his t-shirt and a pair of underwear. Usually, he would get real close to hug you whenever he gets home. Now, he's cold to you and only speaks to you whenever he's forced too. “Pete what is happening to you? Honey, you have to talk.” Your hand goes to his forearm and sits there comfortingly.

“I don't wanna talk. That's all everyone tells me. ‘You have to talk Pete!’ What if I don't want too? Has anyone ever thought of that?!” His voice echoes through the house and you see his lip quivers whenever he finishes. His eyes start to tear and you see his face start to flush. He covers his face with his hand and shakes it.

All you do is stare at him and choose to not speak. He's vulnerable right now and you worry you might hurt him. Quiet sobs start and he moves his body to lay in your arms. You attempt to drag him away from the kitchen to the living room, to let him sit down against the couch.

He sits down on the creme-colored couch and he sets his elbows on his knees. Your hand goes to his back and he almost begins to shake. You've only seen Pete like this a few times, vulnerable and scared. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I'm sorry. I’m Sor—” Pete says quickly before you stop him.

“Pete no, you don't have to apologize for anything. You're grieving. This is normal.”

Pete looks at you with blood-shot eyes, cheeks a burning red, and puffy eyes. The feelings he's been having finally started to cut through his strong walls he had put up. He wipes away the tears that fall from his eyes. “It's so hard. To go to work and know everyone looks at me. And it's my fault that Bradley doesn't have a Dad, Carole doesn't have a husband, and I lost my best friend.”

You sit there and let him talk. Pete curls in on himself to hide himself. “It wasn't your fault. I understand it's hard to not think that. The situation was the plane, not the pilot. Those are your words, not mine. Carole doesn't blame you, honey. You shouldn't blame yourself. Bradley has so much love.” Pete continues to sniffle as he attempts to breathe and relax from his crying fit.

“I know. And, I'm sorry for just not talking to you. I couldn't look you in the face knowing what I did.” Pete admits and you smile at him. He gently scoots over to you and lays against your shoulder. You kiss the temple of his head and put your hand on the side of his head. With a gentle pull, you lay against the arm of the couch and open your legs. Pete slides in-between them and lays his head on your chest.

“It’s alright. You're fine, I'm fine, we'll be alright.” You end the conversation with a hum and gentle rub of his back. Pete was still mourning; and with an understanding of his feelings you would be able to help. Either way, you knew it would eventually be fine.

[waugh-bao]

Thank you so much! It is a lovely article and a lot to take in. Very interesting to hear him talk about his bad period and the mention of his father’s passing which I think gets overlooked when talking about those days. The ‘moved away spiritually’ from Shirley is so touching. Like their spirits were one until he drifted. The mention of ‘my wife’ ‘my daughter’ ‘my granddaughter’ shows that his spirit and Shirley’s were once again united when he got clean.

I do like that it was already recognized that he was the ultimate decision maker when Mick and Keith argued. Also the mention that people told the author to be nice to Charlie because he such a kind man. That seems to be a theme. “Look, Charlie is a little eccentric and maybe sometimes his thoughts move faster than his words and yeah he has obsessive tendencies but he is an angel on earth and the kindest, most wonderful, and most gentle man you will ever meet so you be nice to him! Or else.” (Imagine this being said by Keith with a knife to the author’s throat. The rest of the entire Stones entourage is behind him, nodding in agreement. “He’s so cute!” Lisa yells.)

No problem!

The other eye catching thing to me about the question of how his father’s passing contributed to his downward spiral is that, other than Charlie himself mentioning it very briefly two or three times over the years, the only other person I’ve ever seen address it was Keith, in 1983.

“There was never a time when I wanted the Stones to end. There was for Charlie when his father died just before the 1981 American tour. He was griefed up. We made him keep going to help. He hasn't stopped drumming since."

Keith being the one/one of the people to realize that that event was key in setting Charlie down the road to substance abuse (he showed up drunk to his dad’s funeral) makes a lot of sense, too, in that Keith was hugely important in pushing him to get clean.

The way he phrased that was beautiful, and very telling of how deep his feelings for her were.

“‘It was one of the worst periods in my life. It was a crisis for me and it was in my midlife. I nearly lost my marriage. I got away from my wife spiritually and mentally. We weren't together, even though we were living together. I tried these things I'd never done before, like heroin. You can take heroin and nothing happens, then all of a sudden you're hooked on it. I took speed all the time: I'd live three days and sleep two; live three, sleep two. You don't look too good at the end of that. I felt so ill; I looked like Dracula. It was a minor league thing and I stopped it all myself but it was awful for the family.’”

I think the interviewer, Robin Eggers, is wrong in what he says right after that, though: “Charlie's not prone to introspection, but once he's into a subject he doesn't stop.” Charlie strikes me as a profoundly introspective person, but not someone who felt the need to broadcast all of his private thoughts to the world.

That said, the way Eggers connects Charlie’s feeling “rootless” due to his father’s passing with the “upheaval” in the band as the reasons for his addiction crisis is interesting to me, because Keith, ten or fifteen years after that period, also said that he felt the band’s dissolution contributed to Charlie’s problems in a huge way. It makes me wonder how much he blamed/blames himself (and Mick) for what happened to Charlie.

“I have a kind of soft spot for it [Dirty Work] but it was a real struggle to make, with people not being there, and Charlie was having a very bad year because he felt the untogetherness of Mick and myself very strongly, and Charlie responds very dramatically to that--he can't play with people who are antagonistic and it was disturbing him a lot.”

Which is even sadder when you see that Charlie in no way blames Keith for what happened to him, but felt that he did it in imitation of his friend as a desperate cry for help and love.

"’Keith handles whatever he is, or does, or has been, very well,’ he concedes. ‘I could never do that, but I was trying to do that to be like him. The barmy thing is I lived with him so much I almost was, without the drug taking. Drugs are a cry to be recognised or loved or whatever, which we all do – ordinary people, that is.’”

Anyway, back on track, absolutely yes! The way he talks about his family is incredibly sweet, and it’s clear that he and Shirley were back on solid ground.

“‘My wife has kept me very sane,’ he says. "I'd have probably ended up a drug addict nutter in Soho if I had been single all the way through. It's very difficult to keep a romance alive for 35 years. The only good side about touring is the absence makes you realise how much you miss someone.’”

And the bit about Charlie’s power within the band is so well done, that quote he uses is perfect.

“‘After 30 years at the top of the tree, the chemistry of the Rolling Stones in one room is pretty explosive,’ director Julien Temple told me during a video shoot in 1993. ‘If you are looking after one ego, you may be bruising another. Charlie to me is an incredible person; he's like the Solomon of the Rolling Stones. If there's a disagreement or a decision to be made, he's always the highest authority on the mountain.’”

That was my favorite bit of the entire piece!

“Everyone who works for the Stones adores Charlie. ‘Be nice to him,’ they tell me, ‘he's so gentle.’”

I have no trouble believing that Keith was one of the people that told this journalist, probably with knife in hand, that he’d damn sure better be nice to Charlie. We know he just fully crashed that Modern Drummer interview. But, you know, also because this is the exact same album/tour [Bridges to Babylon] wherein he basically committed attempted murder to protect Charlie’s honor.

"One night when I was having some drinks Keith got upset with the guitar player in Whiskeytown and chased him down the hall with a [broken off] bottle of vodka. I think Charlie got snubbed in front of Keith. It was accidental but it really set Keith off."

[d2sejanus--plinth]

Seeing Coriolanus smile was not a rarity, but neither was it a good that was given out carelessly or generously, it was precious in a sense, and to be proffered one of Coriolanus' smiles made you a lucky person, indeed. Not one of those stilted, artificial smiles that he had learnt to recognize, but a real one, one that made him shudder with pleasure. Maybe Coriolanus didn't know, maybe no one knew, but he did have the time to assess him a little, to study things, Coriolanus was not the only one who watched people carefully. Still, it made him blush when he thought about it too much. He was doing it for another reason entirely than Coriolanus was doing it.

He smiled back more widely. It was honest and pure, coming straight from the heart. Even so, he could still feel tension emanate from Coriolanus, and he wondered what the source of that was. His quip coaxed another smile and a little scoff, "Oho, what a jokester he is. Honestly, we see his face on the screen too much." Something about the man rubbed Sejanus the wrong way, but then again, most people in the Capitol rubbed him the wrong way. His face softened when Coriolanus mentioned the thunder being something bothersome. He did have a feeling it was more than just bothersome, and he wondered if it was appropriate to dig deeper. Coriolanus was a highly private person.

"Yeah, I'm not too fond of it, either. Feels like it's shaking everything." The earth itself, really. The sound was quite deafening, and the impact wasn't gentle. Coriolanus turned to him, and he saw that raindrop hit his cheek, his eyebrows rose, "Oh! Yes, yes, I should," there was only the briefest touch on his arm and still it startled his body, it reminded him of his shoulder just tingling for a long while today, "right away." He did open the umbrella, but it wasn't as big as he remembered. It was sizeable, but they would perhaps have to huddle together a bit, under it. The thought wasn't.. unappealing.

"A little smaller than I remembered," he chuckled, making light of the situation, and crowding against Coriolanus until their shoulders touched occasionally, keeping the umbrella up just so it would shield all of Coriolanus, "we can make do." His other shoulder was going to get a little wet, but that was fine with him. "If we walk quickly, hopefully we don't get the worst of it." Sheets of rain would be terribly unfortunate. The thunder rumbled again, louder than before, almost made his ears ring a bit.

Continued from here | @d2sejanus--plinth

Never.

Somehow that word sunk into his bones more than the change in the air did. More than he thought it would. The bold and fun buzz from earlier had long worn off but now it'd been replaced with a steady, warm hum. When he heard most people speak it was like hearing static. But with this single word it was like hearing something concrete. Something stable. It was a word spoken by a voice he could trust.

He smiled back at Sejanus as he fell into step with him, a genuine smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth instead of him consciously deciding to do so. They were a rarity in that he hardly ever showed anyone such a full picture of himself. There was always a mask of sorts that he affixed to his face each morning and it stayed secure, allowing others to only see skin deep. Yet here he was, gracing Sejanus of all people with a little peek beneath the veneer.

"He'll be preparing jokes about it to last him the rest of the week," he quipped lightly as one of his eyes appeared to twitch, another rumble following at their heels. An all too startling reminder of the war, of the bombs that shook the same streets the pair were now walking. "The clouds I have no problem with, but that thunder is an absolute menace." Coriolanus eyed the umbrella at Sejanus' side and at the same time he swore he could feel a few raindrops hit the back of his neck.

Casting his eyes upward he felt another raindrop fall upon his cheek and he tapped his knuckles against Sejanus' arm. "I think now's the time to open that, if you don't mind."

[dokifluffs]

You’re Safe | Sakusa Kiyoomi

Pairing: Kiyoomi X Reader (female) 

Genre: MAFIA!AU, dad and husbando tehe, fluffy, action? thriller??

Author’s Note: mafia 🤝 protective 🤝 domestic father figure 🤝 SAKUSA

Warnings: k*lling, blood, vivid imagery, LONG, language

gif from @rivaillerose​ 🖤

“Y/N,” a husky voice spoke your name, pulling you from your much needed rest as life of being a new mother had been challenging though so far, it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle

“Y/N, darling.”

You groaned in your sleep, not wanting to wake, to leave the warmth that you were so comfortable laying in

The edge of the bed shifted as a weight sat down beside you, making your body move toward the person

You brought yourself to open your eyes as heavy as they were, your vision clearing to find your husband sat beside you, his mask pulled down to his chin

The room was gloomy and gray though the curtains were open, not a bit of sunlight shining through as he looked down to you with gentle eyes

Despite his softer side with you, he was still the head of the clan - and his appearance matched him as well

He donned a black wool overcoat with the same colored turtleneck and mask

“What is it, Omi?” You asked sleepily as he cupped your cheek with his black gloved hand

His black gloves were always an accessory he had on him, whether he was wearing them or not

He had a thing with germs but he also saw no need to get his hands dirty when his men were always there to do the job for him

You nuzzled your face into his touch, very tempted to fall asleep holding him close but as your mind woke up more and more, you remembered what today was

What he had to do, where he had to go

“I’m leaving soon.. I’ll be back in a few days..” he whispered as he moved a strand of your hair from your face

You wanted to pretend you didn’t hear these words, that he never told you he had to leave or when he did

A part of you wished he left without telling you but an even greater part was so grateful that he woke you

“Do you really have to go again?” You squeezed his gloved hand as you sat yourself up straighter

“You know how my father is... He wants to make sure things are... under control.. I promise I’ll be back in two days.”

The way he spoke, the words fell so effortlessly from those lips, his voice low and cutting through the space yet he spoke at a volume as if he was telling you a great secret

“You said that last time and he kept you with him for a couple weeks...” you thought back to that time

You were seven months pregnant, almost eight, at the time and it was like he fell off the face of the earth

You couldn’t go anywhere or do anything but reside in the manor and you couldn’t even talk to him

You were alone again

“Don’t go...”

the nights in bed alone, the cramps, emotional rollercoasters, motion sickness, nausea

You at least wished he could have called you

The nightmares you had, the worst case scenarios playing in your head until you woke up with tears streaming down your face, only for you to cry yourself silently back to sleep as fear pooled and plagued you from within

He could see the sadness in your eyes and he could remember vividly the mental torture he was put under

No communication to you and all he could at most to see you was through the hidden cameras all connected to his phone  

Even checking in on you had to be done in secret, all to make sure that he was strong enough to continue on the family business even if he had to lose you or be away for unpredictable amounts of time

It was unbearable then and it was still unbearable now

He never asked to grow up into the business of the underworld, let alone take it over from his father at the prime age of 20 four years ago

He never wanted your life to be taken away when you two had already been together when he was recruited

“I’m sorry, darling, but you know I have to,” he sighed. “You know how my father is.” He cupped your cheek and kissed your temple then lips before he stood

“Am I going to lose you?” Your voice broke the silence, breaking through the white sound of the downpour outside

But you had stopped your question early

“Am I going to lose you today? Tomorrow? One day?”

He stood frozen in his place before he could reach for the knob

“No, Y/N. You won’t.” His eyes paused for a bit on you as he thought about his response, the fatigue of being a mother was already showing. “I’ll be able to call you this time and I’m the head now. The only title my father has to me now is father.”

“You won’t.” He stepped back over to you leaned down to kiss you again. “Not today at least…”

“I’ll call you at supper time, darling. Have a good day.”

You did your best to hold onto his hand as long as you could, to remember his touch, his voice, his scent, the way he looked before he walked out those doors

Because some days or nights, you never truly know if you would ever see him again

And it terrified you

The sound of the rain only seemed to get more intense now that he was gone and you were here

But now your day was beginning now that you were awake

You slipped out of the king sized bed, leaving the warmth you had slept in as the soft carpet at your feet, your toes sinking into the fibers

Brushing your teeth, showering in the grand bathroom of the manor, it was a life you surely never expected but here you were

Kiyoomi’s father and his entire family had built their name from nothing to the global known corporation that it was today

You dried your body off, finding what to wear today through the walk in closet and once that was found, it was breakfast

“Good morning, madam, shall I bring you your breakfast to the master suite?” Your right hand maid had greeted you as you stepped out as she carried the laundry with her

“Oh, thank you, Olivia, but I’ll head down to the kitchen after waking D/N,” you smiled to the older maid that had worked for the Sakusa family for decades

All the staff that worked and lived in the estates on the property outside of the manor were trained security, men and women, whose jobs were to protect the main family, to serve them, and to keep others who would pose a threat away and out, even if it meant killing them

But you always tried not to think or wonder about how many people these staff have killed or beat up or anything whenever you interacted with them, especially when they greeted you with a smile

They were there to protect you and to make sure that nothing and no would would ever harm your life

You stepped into the nursery, the wide room decorated with warm lights and stuffed animals, some more than twice the size of your daughter

“Hi,” you smiled so brightly seeing your baby’s eyes already open, looking up to you as she sat in her crib, holding onto her blankie. “Good morning precious,” you lowered the front gate of the crib so you could kneel down to her level

Sakusa sat in the limousine as he watched the scene of you and your daughter in the nursery, wishing he could just turn the car around and to stay home

Things were in balance, he knew this already but his father’s orders were orders he still had to respect

He clicked off his phone, tucking the device into his pocket as he was to be in the car for quite a bit of time before he would get to his father’s

The biggest smile spread on her face as she laughed seeing you, her bubbliness seeming to make all the gloominess disappear

“Let’s get you changed~” you chimed as you lifted the baby girl into your arms, getting a whiff of her heavy diaper and finding an outfit for her day 

“Olivia?” You called into the custom intercom by the nursery’s closet, though there was practically one in every room

“Yes, madam?”

“Sorry for troubling you, but could you actually bring breakfast for D/N and I up to the upstairs loft? You could even send it up the dumbwaiter and that’s fine too.”

“Of course, would you like the usual?”

“Yes please, thank you.”

You carried your little girl toward the upstairs loft, one of your favorite areas of the house since it was significantly smaller - well almost - than the living room downstairs

The loft didn’t extend all the way downstairs like how the ground floor’s living room ceiling extended to the second floor

More than ten thousand square feet of property, more rooms in the manor than you knew what to do with them

Four guest bedrooms with full bathrooms, a grand study and two story “little” library, two main bedrooms in addition to the master bedroom and a nursery

So much space, all sorts of technologies, gadgets and gizmos of all sorts in the house

All the systems in the house was made by the Sakusa corporation to ensure security

This even included your and Kiyoomi’s custom made phones

There was also the basement- all sorts of fun activities to be done: a pool, pool table, living room area that opened up to the backyard with the bar and barbecue, the fire pit

and finally, there was the cellar that was the only place Kiyoomi had requested that you never go - and you never did 

You knew that look in his eye, that tone of voice and you knew he had requested this for your best

And most importantly, there were three safe rooms, all three upstairs with hidden entryways to protect you, official guests, and anyone in the family

Before you knew it, Olivia had made her way upstairs with the breakfast as you played with your daughter in the loft, bouncing her on your lap sat on the wide couch

The loft was brightly lit and open, toys of all types for your daughter to play with as the TV played the morning kids show

As filled as the house was with the special staff and things to do, it still felt so lonely and empty as you sat there

You had tried to chat and converse with them but they never loosened up, always keeping all the formalities but it was never any use

The storm outside seemed to be getting worse as your eyes gazed to the horizon, spotting the trees at the edge of the estate where all their branches had been swaying in the wind, the paler, underside of their leaves revealed

Thunder began to rumble in the distance with the occasional flash of lightning but both unbothered your daughter and you as the two of you remained in the loft  

You watched as she rolled about on a blanket, playing with her stuffed animals and the other interactive toys that played music to keep her entertained while you watched the TV, finding nothing remotely as entertaining to watch

But just before you could change the channel to yet another disappointing channel, your attention was pulled to your phone vibrating beside you, your eyes lighting up as you saw the caller ID

“You seem so bored,” Kiyoomi’s deep voice sounded through the phone but he spoke the truth

You were tired and bored but you didn’t want to sleep - it would only make you unable to sleep later tonight anyways

“I am,” you sighed as you muted the TV. “How far out have you gone?”

“Actually, not too far. Only about half an hour since there was a major accident on the highway so we had to take a detour. But traffic is terrible so we were stuck for quite a bit before we could actually exit,” Sakusa almost groaned thinking about the terrible accident

How he was stuck in a single place for practically twenty minutes

“Wow, do you know what happened?”

“Well there was a…” his voice drowned out in your ears as you could hear something that didn’t sound like rain or thunder - they were too distinctly different

Loud bangs echoed in the distance, bringing your attention elsewhere though all you could look was outside the wall window to the dark skies  

But you couldn’t see anything except the normal background of the property but it was just silent again with the white noise of rain washing down the glass, followed by thunder and a flash of lightning as the storm brewed closer and closer

“I’m sorry what? I missed what you said... I think I heard… something weird..” you spoke as you looked outside the windows that looked to the back of the property

You could hear echoes of movement downstairs, the bustling business of the special staff in the house but it sounded standard... or so you thought

“What did you hear?”

“..I don’t know.. maybe it was the storm and I’m just distracted...” you smiled into the phone as you spoke while your daughter happily crawled to you, laying her head on your legs, her puffy cheeks round as ever

“Well, you two were my only source of entertainment so far this trip,” the corner of his lips curled as he picked off small specks off his suit

“That makes one… of us-“ your thought died out in a matter of seconds

You heard louder, clearer bangs while the staff that had been stationed with you just outside the loft talked over their ear coms to another elsewhere

Before you could continue your sentence or call, the bangs only got louder and your body reacted faster than you could say or think

Clear gunshots began firing at the front entrance, echoing off the high walls and ceilings of the manor while the staff worked on securing the doors and all other entrances and possible ones

“Y/N?” Sakusa could only hear the subtle commotion happening but it was clear you weren’t on the phone. “Shit shit shit..” he stayed on the line as he changed to the security cameras he had access to he used to watch you and your guys’ daughter

Looking through the camera surveillance, he caught a glimpse of you disappearing with your phone in hand while your arms carried your daughter as you disappeared toward the bedroom

“Turn back now,” Kiyoomi howled as his driver did just that, not wasting a single second

You ran into the master suite’s walk in closet that led to the entryway of one of the safe rooms, your baby girl in your arms as she held on to you  her whines already beginning before they would turn into cries

“Shh, it’s okay, baby, mama’s gonna protect you,” you smiled, whispering, your voice already shaky, lips trembling as you pressed a little kiss to the top of her head. “Even if it costs my life, precious.”

You moved, leaving the master suite and stayed low as you walked across the “bridge” that connected the loft to the other half of the house

Peeking down, you could hear groans of agony, puddles and splashes of of blood on the floor and walls, empty bullet shells on the ground, shards of glass and broken windows

“Search the house, find that bitch,” a deep voice yelled through the manor as for the first time since the loud bangs happened, it sounded so still, like any normal rainy day

But this was far from normal

You crawled across the marble flooring toward the library

There wasn’t any safe room here but the safe rooms were sure to be where they would look, whoever they were

They were able to get through the security, it seemed like the staff was dead

You silently stood as they scoured the lower levels - you could hear them and all the destruction they were havocking

The cars outside the window blurred into mere colors that passed as the limousine sped through the roads back towards the manor

To save time, they went toward the back roads — it was just the slightest bit longer but time could be shaved down since there were no cars anywhere

“Step on it!” Sakusa commanded as his men readied themselves. “Call in Unit 0,” he demanded as he kept his eyes on the cameras, trying to find you yet he couldn’t see you in the master suite’s safe room

Unit 0 being one of the few very highly trained professional assassins and killers who were at the disposal of the Sakusa family whenever needed

He scoured through the cameras, not even caring about all the destruction being done, all he needed to see was where you and your daughter were

You carefully entered the library, shutting the door behind you as you walked over the wooden floors carefully

Every step made your palms sweaty but your heart stopped after hearing a loud creak in the old floors

The worst part was that there was no way to lock the doors

outside of the door, you couldn’t hear too much but you could still clearly hear the storm as a great big window stretched from the floor to ceiling so all the lighting in here was natural

There was something about the walls surrounding the library that made it sound proof in a sense

You constantly bounced your baby girl in your arms to keep her calm as you tried to get a look outside as you approached one of the corners toward the window

“Search upstairs,” one of the men demanded as a handful of men ran upstairs. “Find her.”

The scoured through all the rooms, flipping every room apart, destroying things, tearing the curtains off, flipping the beds, wrecking the nursery

You peeked out the window that faced the front of the manor yet all you could see were broken things and to your horror, more lifeless bodies of the manor’s staff

But before you could look out any longer, a large rock was launched at the window, breaking the glass, shattering it

Your baby girl let out a loud cry in fear, making your heart drop

“No, D/N, shhhh, please, it’ll be okay, we’ll be okay.” You quickly pulled open the latch to the library’s hidden passage where the door was one of the bookcases

As soon as you closed the bookcase, you heard the door to the library burst open

Several men, guns ready

You scanned your finger print for the room to be safely locked however it wouldn’t let you. All you could do to make sure the room was locked was to see your body to keep the door shut and still

They walked through the wide open doorway to the library scanning the two open floors that was connected by two black steel staircases that wound their way up and down, connecting the two floors

“Shh, please,” you whimpered to your daughter as she cried into your chest as you stayed by the passage’s door so you could look out the peephole

They pulled books off the shelves, throwing them from the second level to the first, knocking the paintings off the walls, ripping them by sliding their knives through the canvas’, kicking them, breaking the frames

The ground shook as you heard a a loud boom, making you jump in your spot, the ground rumbling and shaking below where you sat

It sounded like a bomb went off on the lower level but you assumed it was the cars in the garage since you could hear the repeating alarm sounding off

Your daughters cries began to start back up at the loud noise, as you did your best to shush her

“Shhh, it’s okay,” you whispered to her as you wiped her tears, keeping her face to your chest as you stroked your trembling hand down her back as tears trickled down your cheeks and dripped off your chin

The limousine slid on the gravel outside the manor as Sakusa’s men sprang to action from the vehicle

Kiyoomi stayed in his seat, continuously scouring through the cameras but you were yet to be found

He couldn’t find a single trace of you

His men, as well as unit 0, entered through the blown open entrance, broken shards of glass crunching beneath their steps as they surrounded the estate the best they could, splitting up to eliminate the intruders

“Where are you, Y/N?” His heart hammered in his chest as he desperately tried to find you yet nothing

But before he could look any further, his heart dropped seeing the red system failure message. Whoever these people were, they were impressive, but not fast enough

Kiyoomi now meant business now that he had no access to actually see if you were okay

He ran out of the limousine as gunshots could be heard all throughout the house as half his men made their way to the upper level while the other half wiped out the intruders on the lower level

He followed behind unit 0, making their way upstairs

He clung onto his gun tightly in his hand, finger ready on the trigger as he barged into the master suite, firing two bullets into the chest and head of a large man as he was pillaging the closets

All the precious jewelry he bought for you were now stained in the pool of the filthy blood of the man who had the audacity to enter the premises

His heart almost dropped seeing him in the closet in the first place but it didn’t seem like the man noticed the entrance to the safe room behind the clothes on the hangers

As he pushed the luxurious wardrobe aside opening the door and to his fear, you were nowhere to be seen

More gunshots sounded off, echoing through the halls, sounding off the walls

He couldn’t focus, his thoughts incoherent, unfinished sentences running in his head as he just ran, killing those in his way to find you

A gun war was going off throughout the library as Sakusa’s men fired at the intruders on both levels but they had great firepower too

Both sides hid behind the marble pillars, the different bookshelves and furniture in the room as the rain showered in

Your baby girl cried loudly, her shaken cries sounding off throughout the passage

“No, no, no, please, baby.” Your heart raced as you dared to look out the peephole, only for it to drop as you saw a man you didn’t recognize yell something to another man near him

The man he yelled to fired more shots while the other one approached the passage entrance, banging noises coming through the bookshelf

“She’s in here! Hold them off!” The man yelled

“No, no, no.” Tears welled in your eyes as you did your best to keep the door closed but there was no actual way to since this was just a simple passageway

Your daughter cried loudly in your arms while you gave it your all to keep the door closed

Amongst all the shots being fired, Kiyoomi heard the words the man yelled and then it clicked

He knew where you were

“No.” This one word repeated in his head as he pushed through the front, racing past the bullets being shot towards him as he ran on pure adrenaline

“Boss, no!” His men yelled but this only got the intruders to focus on him, giving them the opening to shoot them all

Kiyoomi shot the man closer to him in the legs before letting his body move on pure killer instinct as he grabbed the man who had fallen to his knees by his jaw, snapping his neck

The other man changed his focus to Kiyoomi as he stood to his feet while the other struggled to pull his gun from his holster

Kiyoomi towered over him as his body moved on his own

He kicked the man to the wall, pressing the barrel of his gun to the man’s chin, pulling the trigger without a second thought

You squeeze your eyes shut, facing the other way from the door, bracing yourself

“I love you. Mama loves you, baby,” you whispered as you cried, a loud rumbling filling your ears as you felt the door being forced open

This was it

You were going to die

Your daughter was doing to die

you let out a blood curtling scream feeling the hands of whoever grab onto you, pulling you, kicking your legs to try to fight 

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!” Kiyoomi’s familiar voice sounded louder and louder over the rumbling you heard in your ears from clenching and bracing your body and your daughter’s

“It’s me, It’s just me!” He soothed you as he turned you

You couldn’t explain or even begin to describe the relief you felt wash through your body, your heart racing and slowing down at the same time as you broke down, your cries mixing with your daughter’s

“You’re safe, I’m here,” Kiyoomi pulled you into his arms, your body shaking terribly in his arms as you cried into his chest, all the fear you felt flooding your senses

“I know, I’m sorry this happened, but you’re okay. Everything will be okay,” he whispered as he pulled you into his lap, keeping the passage door somewhat closed

You were already put through enough today and he didn’t need you to see the second degree murder crime scene he had committed right outside

“I’m here, I’m here.” He reached up and pulled his mask off as he kissed the top of your head all over, wiping away your tears with his thumbs but you couldn’t stop crying

But that was entirely fine

“But Y/N,” he held your face in his bare hands, his normal gloves off as he stroked his thumb over your cold, damp cheeks

“Why didn’t you go into the safe rooms, darling?” His own voice was unsteady, his lips quivered, eyes teary. “I looked for you and I couldn’t find you and I thought I lost you..” His voice broke off as he gathered himself the best he could, taking deep breaths

Seeing Kiyoomi like this, it broke your heart even more

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what… I was just scared and- and-“ It hurt you so much

Everything about today did

But just this moment was Kiyoomi, it also touched you

He was such a stoic man, usually one to show a softer, affectionate side with you but this was the first time you saw him shed tears

A man who had taken so many lives was now showing his true emotions for the two lives he would give his own live for a hundred times over if it meant you and your daughter was okay

“I know, I know, but you’re safe,” he let out a deep, relieving breath as he hugged your head closer, your body shaking uncontrollably in his arms

“And hey, shhh, it’s okay baby. Papa’s here.” He stroked your daughter’s head as she sort of calmed down as the two of you sat together, doing your best as parents to shoo away her sadness while his men did their best to first and foremost clear the bodies and blood

You absolutely did not need to see that after today

“You two are both safe.” He breathed as he pulled you two impossibly closer, letting the shakiness of his own heart disperse  

“You’re safe…”

~~~~~ Thanks for reading! Masterlist for more! Please do not repost anywhere else! 

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[glazesunflower]

S/O who comes out to her friends and family and the comfort that comes after

Chararcters: Ei, Ningguang and Kujou Sara (separate).

Warnings: LGTBphobia and mentions of rejection. Heavy topics but comfort after.

Notes: The request, “ hiii welcome back!!! may i request ei, ningguang and sara with a fem s/o who comes out to her friends and family but they don't support her and them comforting reader, please?”

Ei already knew of you being part of the LGTB community, she was the first person you told and she hasn’t told you this, but she holds a little pride over that fact.

It happened during one of the times she allowed you to visit her during her meditation time at the plane of Euthymia. You mentioned how nice and quiet it is there one time, and since then Ei allows you to enter her mind space to rest and be at peace from the outside world, if so you wish.

You had thought she was deep in her meditative state, as she often was even if you were visiting, and you started talking to her about anything and everything that came to your mind, thinking she’d be too focused on her meditation to pay attention to your words, but she heard you alright.

Ei comforted you, reassuring you that it’s nothing she hadn’t seen before. She’s roamed this earth for longer than she dares to say out loud, and she’s met every possible kind of person. Uniqueness isn’t a trait that gets in the way of eternity, so Ei has always been respectful towards each and every person she’s come across.

And you, the gentlest soul she’s been fortunate enough to meet in this lifetime, are no exception whatsoever. She appreciates you as you are, nothing more and nothing less.

So when you came to hear telling her of what had happened when you came out to your friends and family, to say Ei was enraged would be an utter understatement.

The sky grew dark and dangerous, thunder traveling all the way from the vault of the sky to the ground below, making the earth around your feet tremble, much like your heart.

Do you wish for me to dispose of them?, Ei would ask with a stern expression, and if you were to say yes, the Archon of thunder wouldn’t hesitate to stay true to her word, ridding your world of unnecessary problems. That is the length she’s willing to go for your comfort.

If, however, what you wish is to be consoled, then Ei would be happy to assist in any way she can manage. She’d ask the Tenryou commission to be at your disposal, should you need any food, entertainment or wealth.

But when you tell her, I only need you, Ei. All I want is to be with you right now, she would be quite taken aback. Ei has always been a fighter, hardly a lover, so she’s not quite sure on how to handle the issue at hand.

She would have you rest your head on her lap, comfortable over the warmth of her thighs, and she’d lose her fingers in your hair, unsure at first but then overflowing with affection for you. And you would let her soothe you, heal your jagged heart and all the scars it bears with the delicate touch of her fingerprints on your skin, and the soothing sound of her voice in your ears.

Don’t let their harsh words be of any significance to you, Ei says, her lilac eyes gentle on yours. Stay true to yourself, however hard it may be. There will always be people who cherish you for who you are. Never forget that, my heart.

Ningguang knew before you even told her anything. You never dared to ask, either. You know her ways to be meticulous at best, and singularly exhaustive at worst, so you’d rather stay in the dark of her methods.

That said, she’s always been nothing but understanding. She hasn’t brought it up in the slightest. She cherishes you for you, not for the labels you carry, in any way you wish to portray them. She keeps the thought at the back of her mind where she stores all the other things she knows about you, information that she deems to be quite valuable for her only.

If you ever brought it up though, she’d be understanding towards you, and she hasn’t judged you once. Being the Tianquan means that she must deal with all kinds of people, from pleasant characters to some people she’d rather avoid interacting with. She has seen and heard more than she ever voices; and when she looks at you, you see nothing but understanding and appreciation in her sharp golden eyes.

Ningguang’s expression barely changes when you tell her how it went with your family and friends. You had let her know in advance that you were going to come out to them, and she’d be working as usual; and though she wouldn’t tell you, the thought of you hasn’t left her mind once ever since you said goodbye to her in the morning, a hopeful smile drawn over your lips. The thought of you being saddened like that shatters her heart, but she chooses to stay with a stern expression, a strong facade to be the rock you need right now for support.

I only have one question for you. Do you wish to be comforted, or do you wish to have your revenge?, Ningguang says, and in the dangerous glint behind her golden eyes, you can see she’s quite serious about her question.

She’s a powerful woman, with far too many people under her command, working in the shadows for her sake. If you really wanted revenge, Ningguang would only need to snap her fingers and she would have anything you asked of her ready to be of use to you. Anything to quiet the devastating rumbling she knows you must feel in the pitch of your stomach, one she knows all too well herself.

I just want to be with you, Ningguang. If that’s okay? Your words make her blink twice, her sharp eyes softening on yours, and she’s quick to nod her head. Anything for you, always.

Ningguang sits on the bed and motions you to come closer. She’s sitting with her back to the headboard of the bed, with you resting between her legs. With one hand, she will be holding the latest document she needs to sign, and with the other she will be gently caressing your hair. She’ll talk about anything and everything you ask of her, telling you stories of her childhood that she usually doesn’t dare to disclosure, and you’ll find comfort in the way her fingers lightly scratch your scalp, the warmth of being pressed so close to her, the intimacy she brings to you despite the sorry state of your heart.

Foolish people are always quick to share their opinions, which only means you’d be just as foolish if you were to take them to heart. Ningguang says, but there’s no bite to her words, only a deeply-rooted affection for you that you’ve learned to recognize. There will always be people who will criticize the way you live. Don’t make the mistake of listening to them. Live a life that you can be proud of, and you will live without regrets.

Sara knew you were part of the LGTB community because you told her so one night. She’s not an excessively curious person, you trust that she wouldn’t dare to pry into your secrets or your private life. She was only your training companion at the time, after all.

Despite that, you can’t deny there’s something about the stern and stoic woman that makes you want to confide in her, knowing that spilling your secrets would quite literally be the last thing on her mind.  So you told her one night as you were making your way back home from training, and you still remember the way she nodded to your words, not quite an expert on the subject but quite willing to listen to your story, and the way you felt so safe around her.

Ever since then, Sara has been nothing but protective towards you, without being overbearing in the least. Every time she’s heard any kind of comment, not necessarily directed towards you but about the LGTB topic in general, Sara was quick to jump to the discussion and defend her (your) posture with a fervent passion. It was endearing to watch, really. She made you feel safe, and seen in a way you hadn’t felt before.

She didn’t exactly encourage you to come out to your family, but when you announced that you were going to do so, Sara supported your decision and politely asked you to tell her how it went afterwards.

Her expression completely falls when you come back home later at night, tears running down your face and your shattered heart pooling on your hands. Sara immediately wraps you in a hug, strong arms securing your waist as you cling to her clothes, burying your face in the crook of her neck, muttering words beyond meaning.

But she holds you through it all, as the tears spill down your cheeks like a waterfall of regrets, and pain, and affliction, the hurtful words echoing in the vault of your chest as you let Sara hold you and soothe you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

After you’ve calmed down, Sara makes you your favorite tea and sits with you on the couch, and she listens to the full story with details. She sits quietly as you tell her everything, occasionally holding your hand to show you she’s there, and she loves you as you are. She makes you feel heard, even after the terrible events of the day.

It’s okay to feel bad over this. Let it hurt for a while, but don’t let it define you, Sara says, her golden eyes softening around the corners just for you, and you feel your skin warm where she’s touching you, grounding you. I love you just the way you are, and you should too. Let them be wrong. Prove them how wrong they are, by living a happy life with the people who actually love you for you.

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You can check more of my writing on (this link!). Thank you!

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.4)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Yoongi makes his choice, so does Moonbyul.

Pairing: Beta! Yoongi, Omega! Reader, Omega! Jungkook, Omega! Seokjin, Alpha! Namjoon, Alpha! Hoseok, Alpha! Taehyung, Alpha! Jimin,

Tags: Graphic material, Death, Murder, Dead bodies and dying described in detail, brief suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, depression, DARK THEMES, guilt, blood, a touch of blood kink? drugs, murder/crime themes, guilt, kinda fuck or die vibes? finally fluff at the end, mating marks, 

W/c: 7.1k

A/n: here is the moment you’ve all been waiting for! the big d word moment!!! my carpal tunnel is acting up, I will probably not be able to get the next chapter out for a few days or until next week. Chronologically the next chapter continues after part 1. 

(PLEASE READ TAGS FOR CW BEFORE YOU PROCEED)

Previous part — Masterlist

Part 4: If I Have You 

Pulling the trigger is the easiest thing you’ve ever done. 

Geumjae’s body flinches back from the force of the bullet. The ceiling splattering with the spray of his blood. It hits the side of your face too, your white shirt crested with red at the shoulders, dripping down your throat along with the blood from your mating bite. It’s a percussive splatter, noisy as it hits the wall.

People never talk about how blood gets everywhere during a murder. Yoongi is unable to stop his flinch when Geumjae’s brain matter and viscera splatter against him, just a little. 

Yoongi didn't think you'd actually do it. 

He watches you shove the body away from you, hard, what's left of his head, an empty vessel, hitting the floor with a hollow thud. His hands leave you for the last time, but the pain isn't finished. 

Yoongi barely has the forethought to lunge forward, knees scraping, wrestling the gun out of your hand before you can turn it on yourself. The barrel of the gun is hot when Yoongi's hands close around it and yank it away from your own temple. The smell of burning skin joins the metallic scent of murder. Your scent is a mess- it’s barely had a chance to mix with Geumjae’s burning wood-burning bread and wrath, rainstorms, and gunpowder. 

He shouts your name but you don't respond. 

Yoongi yanks the gun from your hands, probably hurting your fingers but panicked when he hurls the gun to the other side of the room and takes your hands in his, wrestling with you and screaming your name until the fight goes out of you. 

You’re hyperventilating when you stop struggling. Both of your wrists pinned above your head in both of Yoongi’s hands, his knees pressing your legs to stillness in a way that could be sexual but isn't- it's the easiest way for him to restrain you- both sprawled on the bloody floor. Yoongi’s crying, tears dripping down his nose, every other drop shines pink from what's on his face.  

“Yoongi please- please just let me go- I don’t want to become a ghost- I don't wanna become a walking corpse.” The way you look breaks his heart, your neck so bruised and bloody, your face swelling too from Geumjae’s hits. The way your eyes hold only darkness and no warmth as you look at him and beg- beg him to let you take your life. Your pupils are so small he can't see them at all. 

“Let me die Yoongi- please just- if you do one thing for me- let do this. let me go."

Yoongi looks at your mating mark and can already see the thin tracery of ink spreading under your skin- inky blackness spreading from your mating bite and up your throat. A piece of someone who’s dead inside of you, shot through with silver to make it stand out more. 

It’s like some silly zombie bite in a bad horror movie but it’s so much more haunting, The veins in your eyes are even starting to discolor. You have maybe a few minutes before the mating bite takes you over completely and you’re mated to someone dead.

Zombie movies were nothing more than fear of this taking root in common culture, everyone fears losing their mate. What else is more terrifying than something that takes your humanity in the way that this has taken yours. This is every person’s worst nightmare- a death sentence.  

‘Ghosts’ are what society has dubbed the women and men who live after losing their partners. Most of the time they live without alpha or a pack- unable to bond to anyone else ever again once their mates are dead. Mating bites are a one-time thing. 

When one-half of a mated pair dies- a person's body has a peculiar way of letting outsiders know how to treat them gently- The mating mark turns black like a brand. A mark to let everyone know that they would never have another person to take care of them- to love them.

But you aren’t alone- you’re not alone because you have Yoongi and he’s right here with his wide palms on you. Hands that where always made to fix things, but you aren’t just some broken toy that needs a bit of glue.  He’s too late, just seconds too late and only inches away. 

He grips both of your forearms in either of his palms hands, pulling you closer. Making you sit up, dragging you into his lap like carrying your weight in his arms will fix this. Anything to hold onto you- to not lose you too soon. 

"Stop- just stop, I've got you- I've got you," Yoongi repeats it more for himself than he does for you.

But there are wounds in your body that can’t be fixed by simple hoping. There is a limit to what one person can take. Despair is one hell of a drug and while Yoongi fights and fights there is no undoing what Geumjae has done to you.

But maybe…

Yoongi dares to hope; “It’s only a half bond if we-“ he falls silent as the idea settles over him like a bucket of cold water. His brain rushing over everything he’s ever learned about mating bites and beta’s; all of the statistics and articles that Namjoon had shoved down his throat when Jungkook had first stopped having seizures. 

The medical mystery that betas were; how they were able to heal unseen hurts and maybe- maybe this was like that. Maybe the solution to this problem lays in Yoongi’s veins, in his mouth. 

His jaw aches at the very suggestion of it.  “I’m a beta- and betas don’t usually mark- because- because they’re stronger than alpha and omega bites.” 

It’s the only truth that makes sense. All of the stories of omegas and alphas going crazy after being bitten by betas, not being able to move from them too far, extreme clinginess- a bond that was too close, too strong, stronger than anything else in their life. You weren’t supposed to bond with someone so deep, the bite almost seemed to do more harm than good. 

But you’re already dying and there isn’t much worse that could happen to you.

You don't have anything to lose but Yoongi does. You shake yourself free from his arms and pull back. Recoiling from what he’s offering to do for you; tether him to you forever when you might not make it. 

You can already feel the mating mark taking hold- It's already starting to cloud your judgment, deep down, the part of you that cares if you survive this is already winking out. The blankness sinking through your every inch, The emptiness. You’d be surprised if you lifted your hand to your chest and found your heart still beating. 

“Yoongi- No- you don’t have to- you’ve already got a pack and don’t- don’t bind yourself to someone like me.”

It’s the same argument that you had before but there’s no force behind it- every stupid excuse you had for him not to love you is moot now that your husband is dead next to you. But you're done; Every breath takes more effort than it should and you feel so heavy. You look down at your lap and feel the lethargy sinking beneath your bones like lead. Hidden hands gripping around your throat cutting off your words.

You feel like you’re choking on something. 

You’ve felt depressed before (how could you not have given what your life was like before Yoongi). And having a mating mark from someone deceased feels like that but worse, like it's turned up by a factor of three. A weird mixture of dizzy, absent, and dissociative. You have never felt less connected to your own body, it feels foreign.

You are nothing but a soul inside a body, craving release. A thread of black that wants to tug you down to where ever Geumjae is now. 

The sinking sadness says to you with gentle hands- this is a fine spot. You can just sit here, It’s okay. You don’t have to move, you can just sit here until you die. As long as no one bothers you and hurts you again, you could just sit here, as long as it was quiet and peaceful. Things don't even have to be good, you don't need good things, you just need it to not hurt anymore. Until the earth reclaims you like it takes abandoned buildings. 

 A sharp pain that goes through your heart, an ache so deep that it speaks to cavernous places, wakes monsters that you didn’t know where there. 

You’ve never really wanted to die before, maybe as a passing thought- but didn’t everyone think that way? it’s so different now- where the thoughts are all consuming, running over your words in your head like oil spreading and staining cloth. 

Die- want to die- want- want- want die- wanna go- wanna be quiet- wanna fall asleep and not wake up- want to- 

But if you decided to lay here and not get up again, Yoongi would stay too.

He would try and get you to move, probably beg and try to get you to live. Even if he never bit you, he’d stay next to you until the end, just to hold your hand so that you didn’t have to be completely alone. You thought dying would feel more lonely,  But maybe it doesn't feel that way because Yoongi’s here. 

His hand closes around yours, his thumb rubbing soothing circles as he cries. And you think if you want one thing; it's for him to stop crying. Out of all people- Yoongi doesn't deserve the hurt (but maybe you're biased because you love him).

That tips the scale in his favor.

Geumjae’s blood is pooling on the floor. His body gives a twitch, the last remnants of his misfiring nerves as he dies. You feel the painful jerk in your mating bond. Yoongi watches the muscles of your neck twitch. 

Neither you nor Yoongi pays him any mind. 

"You don't have to do this Yoongi." Yoongi’s hand on your cheek- is like a balm to those words, pushing them out of your head. “You can’t take it back. If I die- you could die too.”

“But I want to” he kisses your cheek- and the contact lights a flame down your neck to your touch starved heart. The heat flares to light and the next second your body and your mouth are aching to bite. Your instincts an avalanche around you begging you to complete the bond that’s tearing through you making you shake. He kisses a little closer to your lips, cheeks wet and cool against your skin.

Geumaje and Yoongi were related by blood at all, maybe your instincts can’t tell the difference. 

“I don’t care if it does- I can’t- I’m not going to just let you die” his voice breaks on the last word. Not when it was me who was too slow to save you; He won’t say the words or whisper his guilt into the open air. 

“Please sweetheart- let me.” He kisses your lips. So soft- achingly soft, Your first kiss, you wish it had happened under better circumstances.

You hate that the first kiss you and Yoongi share tastes like blood.

But there would be more- there could be more kisses if Yoongi manages to do what he’s saying he can. The mark on your shoulder is already healing, the blackness stretching to scar treacherously fast. Normal mating bites usually take a day or so to heal, but not yours, it’s already scabbing and sealing in the poision.

If you’re going to try this- if it’s going to work- it has to be now. The bond is advancing, regardless of the fact that Geumjae is barely dead, barely cooling beside the two of you.

It’s barely been 10 minutes since you shot him. And if you listen carefully- you can hear sounds in the rest of the house, maybe someone else from the gang here- about to come upstairs and discover the mess of you three. muffled voices and heavy footsteps grow louder by the second. 

Yoongi is safe but you’re not. “Yoongi,” you say, his name a broken hymn on your mouth. Musical- and Yoongi can’t think of a time when he wouldn’t want to hear it. Hoping for more of this closeness and maybe one day, a love that doesn’t hurt.

You get the feeling that even if you are broken beyond repair, this man could fix you. Wide hands and careful fingers that rub the blood away from your skin, hands made for making things and mending things when they break. And maybe you’re selfish enough to let him bind himself to you- broken as you are.

You press your forehead to his, you have to ask one more time. "Are you sure Yoongi?"

He nods, quick and small, "I'm sure." there isn’t anything in his eyes that makes you doubt him.

"Okay," you say softly, tugging him closer, tilting your chin up to the sky, your skin stings where it stretches around the mating mark. "okay. Come here then."

Your hands tangle in Yoongi’s hair as you guide his mouth to your throat, and his mouth sliding into the space where Geumjae was just minutes ago. He lingers for just half a breath before sinks his teeth over the mating mark, a little deeper- his mouth a little wider. He makes the bite a tiny bit offset.

Your breath hitches, back arching. His hands-on your waist go hard, holding you closer to him, as close as he can get you. Unlike before when Geumjae’s bite was agony, this feels like heroin- like every drug mixing together sending you up and up.

If you looked down and saw your hands were tipped in gold you wouldn’t be surprised. For a second you think you can taste colors, and then the chocolate sea salt of Yoongi settles over your tongue delicious, like ambrosia- fuck it’s so strong, it’s halfway between a headache and a high. You gasp when you feel it, feel Yoongi all over, Goosebumps rising on your arms as he touches you. The smell of ocean breeze and chocolate filling you in a way that Geumjae’s scent didn’t.

Geumjae’s bite was nothing compared to this, a whisper to a symphony. 

This must be what a mating bite feels like when you want it. You cry out. Gripping the lapels of his coat. Yoongi’s heartbeat thunders in your ears, the only thing you can hear, until the beat matches to your own, heartbeats pumping in sync.

Your blood tastes sweet and he wonders what it says about him that he likes the taste. He gulps at it- once- twice- and then a third time just to make sure the mark sticks, maybe he could suck a little bit of Geumjae out of you.

His kisses get feverish, lapping up your blood with wide laves of his tongue, moaning a little. and this time when you kiss- with your blood in his mouth, they get hurried and rushed like he can consume you, each one sweeter than the last. There is one moment of nausea, only one moment where Yoongi sees the black tracery receded and feels it dim. 

Maybe it’s not gone, but at least it's buried.

Yoongi can almost feel you, can almost feel the bond, but not yet. Your scent, it's all cake-sweet now. You kiss him until your jaw aches until your lips feel bruised. Until you know the sounds below actually are people, rushing around trying to find Geumjae. Calling out your names. 

Yoongi is the first to break apart, the room spinning. “Do me” he lifts the edge of his shirt, picking out a spot that he likes, the meat just above his hip. A spot is half-hidden by his shirt and his pants.

Not everyone likes to have their mating marks on their neck (you certainly would have chosen to have yours another place had you been given the chance). And Yoongi stretches out so that you can get your mouth on him, your mouth on the spot he wants to bind your soul to his.

He holds one of your hands in both of his hands so gently as you cup his hip and bite down, even as you begin to make out the noise of gang members coming up the attic stairs. Yoongi bites down a moan, lets you take one gasp of blood into your mouth before your teeth leave his skin.

The high rushes over him and he knows his pupils are mirrors of yours, black and dilated. He just has time to wipe his blood from your mouth and get you as close as he can, before the attic door creaks, the barrel of a gun pushing it open. And the gangsters enter the room with practiced steps.

Yoongi pulls his shirt back down just before they have a chance to see.

You play the part, slumping against him and letting him take the reigns. the people must take it for pain even though you’re shaking not with sobs, but from the feeling of Yoongi’s soul intertwining with yours. Full body shivers and something solidifying between the two of you. 

Together you shake, Yoongi is barely aware of the gangsters clearing the room. 

You feel like you can taste his thoughts, though you can’t actually hear what he's thinking. You can feel the way they tumble like small waves over each other. You feel concern and something else, something that feels an offal lot like love shoot down the fledgling bond as Yoongi’s arms pull you up, firmer against him.

It makes shivers rise on every inch of your skin, the pleasure he feels when he touches you that you're now hyper-aware of. It's what your body has been craving- the completion of the bond.

You both bleed- your blood dripping onto the floor. One part sacrament and sacred love and another part poisonous longing for a man you hated so much more than you ever loved him. This feels strange, it feels wrong, and that you have one part of you reaching out for something that’s not there. And then this- with Yoongi, right and front of you and inside of you. Completely occupying your heart and your mind and your body.

Accept for that one poisoned inch; you might not be completely his, but it's enough now, the bond with yoongi occupying those thoughts you'd had minutes before.

The gangsters don’t touch Geumjae, at least until Moonbyul enters the room, unarmed. Yoongi’s cousin eyes Yoongi from the door. There isn’t enough room in this torture room for the 12 or so gangsters and the three of you, they press against the walls, guns at the ready.

Moonbyul approaches Geumjae’s corpse, turning him over with her foot to see his blankly staring face, turning it towards the heavens instead of hell. For a moment, Yoongi thinks she might actually kick him. She plucks her pink handgun from the floor. Someone passes her a rag and she wipes it free of blood and fingerprints.

Her eyes on Yoongi are hard; a bit of mirth playing on the edge of her mouth as she plays her hand. A queen in a room full of pawns and knights, and the king underfoot. Her hand of aces. 

Betting it all on a simple game of roulette- red or black- will Yoongi challenge her or not. Yoongi doesn't miss the way her finger hovers on the trigger. 

“I suppose this entire situation would be concerning to me- if you hadn’t already named me as Don.” she nudges Geumjae's body again with her foot. "I guess he didn't take it well?"

She lies effortlessly, taking the moment to seize power. So this was what she was waiting for. Yoongi doesn’t challenge her words for fear of what she might do right now, not that he really would anyway. 

Yoongi tips his head forward in difference, “No he didn’t,” 

Moonbyul tucks her gun back into her waistband, and holds out her hand to pull yoongi to his feet. 

Yoongi takes you with him, small and still a little high in his arms. You hide your face in Yoongi’s shoulder, Holding onto him tight. You don’t know if you could take it if they tried to separate you now. 

Yoongi has to swallow to continue, struggling to think before he speaks with so many new sensations shocking his body. He's intimately aware of the way you shift in his arms, arms tightening around you at the very idea of you moving more than an inch away from him right now as you settle onto your own two feet. still a little unsteady. 

“He- he mated her against her will, and then he tried to kill us when I told him I wouldn’t- and- and after-” It’s not a lie- not really, but it still feels that way. Moonbyul doesn't need to do anything more than that to nod to call her men off, and they all relax around the room. 

They instantly fade from engaged concern to understanding. The other heads of household will probably grill Yoongi more. But you’ve both got time to get your story straight. For now, they need to clean up the body.

It helps that threatening the beta is a punishable offense; no one will question Yoongi killing him- especially since they’re brothers. Most of the families tend to think that inner house spats that family's business. Yoongi doesn’t know which of his relatives will inherit the title of head of the Min family, but it won't be Yoongi.

You’re small and silent in Yoongi’s arms, so vulnerable, he keeps you a few paces away from any of the mobsters, bites down a growl whenever any of them come too close to his mate. It’s just the mating bond making it’s self-known. You are his. No one can touch you.

Yoongi has never been a possessive man, but now he is. The mating mark tearing through him and screaming at him to protect, to provide, to nurture, and keep safe. He strokes down your back as his cousin quietly orders the others to clean up the mess and Geumjae’s body. The family has cleanup crews on call for this very reason.

They quietly offer to burn the house down to stage the death but Yoongi doesn’t care. He guesses it belongs to him now or maybe you. It depends on which bond the family will consider more important; the bonds of a half mating or the bond of brotherhood.

“I’ll handle it-“ his cousin has the good grace to offer comfort to Yoongi that way when he gets you into her car. she doesn't say anything about the dents in the side.  

Yoongi doesn’t quite hate her for any of this, but he doesn’t trust her the same way he did before either. She’s gotten what she wanted- the Don position. Plucked it from Yoongi’s hands.

“You haven’t had a chance to call the heads of house and tell them about your decision yet, but after that, you should be free to go” she reads him easily as always, The only other manipulator up to par with Yoongi himself in the gang. She knows that not an inch of Yoongi wants to stay in this house or this city a second longer.

At the idea of leaving you to straighten up in Yoongi’s lap to listen in a little more, you share a look with Yoongi. Your mate, your body sings the eye contact makes you shiver in your seat. Yoongi pulls you closer, stroking up to your arm mistakenly thinking you’re cold. You pull yourself closer to him- but it feels like you can’t get close enough, He makes a dissatisfied noise in his throat.

Yoongi will have to get used to this feeling. Like his soul is walking outside of his body. It feels incredibly vulnerable and intimate- He can feel your panic, how physically you’re being torn apart right now, every few minutes you shake. Yoongi puts your legs over his and holds you close. Watching your face closely for every twinge of pain as the lights of the city flicker over you two.

The meeting with the heads of house is tense, though the usual group of is two short now, standing only at eleven members now that Geumjae is gone and Moonbyul is named Don. You cannot be Don and a head of house at the same time.

It takes every bone in Yoongi’s body to let you be taken into the other room by Moonbyul’s mate to check over your injuries. He stops her with a hand on her shoulder. He catches Moonbyul’s nostrils flare, but she doesn’t say anything. “Would you look at her bruises for me?”

Later Yoongi will check them himself, again and again until he's sure you're all right. But the sooner you get ice on the nastier bruises the better off you’ll be. Someone should look at your ribs and your head too- he has half a mind to take you to the hospital before you leave the city. He doesn’t know how long it will be before you’re stationary again. He’d stay in the city tonight if you needed to. But he can feel your panic down the bond, The sooner you both get out of here the better.

With Geumjae dead there is no true opposition against his cousin's rule. She stands at the head of the table like she’s meant to be there. And still- the heads of the families talk through the night, kicking the non-proverbial dead horse into the ground. There is little mourning for Geumjae, one granny who cries faintly in the other room while the heads argue. Yoongi supposes he should look more upset, but no one pays attention to him now that he’s made his choice.

No, what they spend most of the time discuss is you. Sat in the other room, able to hear all of this, the men and woman weighing your fate and deciding what to do with you. If Yoongi listens, he can hear Hyejin’s quiet voice. Can feel your discomfort as the ice hits your ribs, maybe broken, definitely badly bruised.

Yoongi flinches every time he feels the pain pulse down the bond. Maybe in time, it will feel less sensitive but right now- Yoongi can feel your hurts just as bad as he can feel his own. A part of him is reaching out into the other room, screaming in his ear to go comfort his mate.  

He has a mate. Yoongi can scarcely believe it.

The gangsters around the table remain blissfully unaware of that fact. Most of the heads are on the same page, and he won’t reveal his mating mark unless he absolutely needs to, he will let that secret stay secret unless necessary. It’s a good bargaining chip. They wouldn’t kill you if they knew it was going to kill him too. But still- it’s hard to hear them argue over your fate when he can’t intervene.

“You know the rules- no divorces and no separations,” one alpha says, he’s older- nearing 60, but Yoongi can’t excuse that cruelty with age. The youngest, the head of the Ahn house does the rebutting for Yoongi, and he bites his tongue.

“But it wouldn’t be a divorce; she’s his widow now and his ex-mate technically.”

“Yes but that’s only a half bond.” There is only one omega head, and the woman snubs her long cigarette out on the table leaving an ashy circle 

“It’s only the alpha bite that matters- or have you forgotten?”

To her credit, the omega doesn't back down. “Chances are she’ll die anyway why are we even talking about her, we should start transitioning already.”

“That’s easy to say- if she’s got nothing left to lose what’s to stop her from going to the police.”

“I can keep an eye on her,” Yoongi volunteers, jumping at the chance to turn the discussion to his favor. They can all go fuck themselves if they ever dare to try and hurt you. “You say she’s as good as dead anyway. So you shouldn't mind if she comes with me.” 

The likelihood of anyone living after their mate dies is in the teens. Yoongi knew that and even then he bonded to you anyway. He can only hope that with his bite coursing through your veins and your body confused that you’ve got better odds than that. Yoongi did what he promised to do, now your odds are both 50/50. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t go to the police.”

Through the bond he can feel your curiosity and a little bit of fear too, you’re listening in. And he does his best to let his calmness comfort you too. Your panic instantly relaxes and he senses you reaching out. If you were next to Yoongi you’d be holding hands, and it kind of feels that way. If you could ever hold hands with someone’s soul.

“You realize that if you make her your responsibility, anything bad that happens will fall on your head as well” their betas might be sacred- but they aren’t free from the rest of the laws of the gang.

“I understand.” The Don lifts her head, regarding Yoongi with a heavy look. “She’s his widow and whether we want to address it now or not, the law says she’s inherited his wealth.”

It's met with immediate opposition, several heads of house start speaking over each other at once,  but Yoongi speaks up again, shouting over them. A beta raising their voice is about as strange as one giving or getting a mating bite, everyone falls silent. “Give it to me or her- I don’t care.”

another few minutes and they’re ready to let you go. they vote on it, and only 3 out of 11 heads vote to have you killed. Moonbyul gives the all clear, “Then you’re free to go.” Yoongi doesn’t even say goodbye, going to you in the other room just as quickly as he can without outright running. The Don’s mate is crouched in front of where you sit. Your body is mostly clean of blood and you’ve been put in other clothes; a pair of sweats and a baggy shirt.

Yoongi can see all the bruises on the side of your face turning purple and Yoongi wants to cup your face and bring it to his, kiss away the pain coloring your skin like watercolors, but can’t do it here. “Do we need to go to the hospital?” 

“Not for her but maybe for you, no ones checked you over yet, have they?”

yoongi grits his teeth, seconds away from snapping at hyejin, he wants her to get away, get as far from you as possible. “i asked if she needed the hospital.” 

Hyejin stands when Yoongi crouches. shaking her head when it becomes clear yoongi isn’t to be argued with right now. “There’s something wrong with her- but I think you know what” her eyes hover on Yoongi’s hip.

 So at least she’s figured it out. She has the good sense to utter the words quietly. Though the people in the other room aren’t concerned with Yoongi anymore, they’ve already launched into discussions about transitioning power and re-defining responsibilities. It seems Moonbyul had a plan on how she wanted the family to run from the beginning.  

He shakes off his annoyance, “Thank you,” he says to the omega, holding out a hand to you, which you take, still not saying anything. Tiredness holding you down to the chair. The same kind of look you’d had when Geumjae had died. The mating mark has been taped over but some of the blackness is still there. Yoongi wonders when it will fade, if it ever does.

“I wish I could say I’ll see you soon but I don’t think I will.” You and Yoongi nod, your hands twined between the two of you. She knows that neither you nor Yoongi has a love for the gang. No one stops you and Yoongi when you leave the house. Immediately hailing a taxi. You stop only at Yoongi’s safe house for a spare 20 minutes, while he packs up a fraction of his belongings in a hurried rush, anything to get out before someone tries to change their mind.

If Geumjae had any hidden loyalists the beta that killed him and his runaway wife would be the first targets. Let alone their reaction if they knew who had really killed Geumjae. The quicker the two of you get away from the city the better.

You end up at the train station, Yoongi breaks the bracelets off of your wrist- the same ones that he saw you wear on you the first night- and the ones that he’s always thought looked like shackles. He yanks at them as hard as he can until they snap; kissing your wrist after each one is off. You throw them over the side of the chain-link fence and into the darkness- to be lost forever you hope. The symbols of all you’ve lost.

When you get on the train, you cuddle close under Yoongi’s jacket and into his warmth. He’s a protective barrier between you and the third seat that thankfully remains empty this late into the night it’s so late it’s nearly early morning. Most of the train is empty besides an elderly couple at the front. Regardless, the two of you sit behind them. Yoongi can’t take his eyes off of the potential threat. Actually flinches when the conductor comes around to stamp your tickets.

You head off into the night- your little box of light in a sea of street lamps and hidden dangers. You almost fall asleep a few times, head bobbing as you catching yourself before it hits his shoulder. After the third time this happens he pulls you in close, tucks your head close to his scent gland, and commands “sleep” in a voice that you cannot disobey.

Eventually, you wake, the car is bright with the midday sun and the car is half full. Yoongi’s eyes are bloodshot as they train on every passenger who comes in and leaves your train car. Yoongi holds your hand, rubbing his thumb up and down the back in an endless trail. A conductor opens the door of your train car to pass through, bunching a few tickets here and there from the new passengers who have boarded the train.

He passes by where you're bundled and Yoongi flinches so hard it wakes you fully. his shoulder accidentally nudging a bruise on your cheek, He murmurs his apologies, panicked hands fussing over you. He could feel that he hit one of your bruises and the horror of hurting you make him wide-eyed and worried. You catch his hands, pressing the pads of them to your lips. Yoongi's hands shake as they touch you, hours later, he's still high on adrenaline. 

“You need to sleep Yoongi” it’s been a long few days for both of you.

He doesn’t answer with more than a grunt. But you get off the train at the next stop and it’s nearing noon by the time the two of you stumble across the street to a motel, and it’s shitty and smells like cigarettes and the lady at the front desk asks if you need the hourly rate or the daily rate. Though she does give you a discount because Yoongi’s a beta. Eyeing the blood-soaked collar of his jacket and the bloody bandages on your neck.

You should be holed up somewhere safe away from prying eyes to adjust to your new mating bite- not in a hotel where the smells of other people assault your nose. Making you press close to Yoongi because everything smells so new and scary. Like your senses have been turned up and only Yoongi can quell their sensitivity.

you don’t realize that the attendant gave you two beds until you get to the room. you both stare blankly before you cough and separated. the closeness too much now that you’re alone and free from threats. Though it doesn't feel that way. 

you hate it- you don’t want to curl up across the room from Yoongi- you want to be next to him. you almost whimper when he He steps away to the other bed to set down his backpack. You want to cry, your skin feels irritated and itchy without his pressed to yours. You want him to touch you but you can’t stay it. Don’t know how to ask around the thickness in your throat.

He gets a clean shirt from his black backpack and helps you put it on so that you don’t irritate the mating bite. You can’t lift either of your arms much and neither can he but he pushes through the pain for you. He only has 2 or three sets of clothes that he grabbed from the cottage, and it’s all you’ve got.

“We’ll get some more clothes for you tomorrow.” He doesn’t say that you should have grabbed some of your clothes- because you both know you couldn’t handle staying in that house a second more than was necessary. You barely thought to linger long enough to grab your purse, which thankfully had everything you really need in it. 

Somehow he has athletic tape in his bag, and he spends a few minutes changing out your soaked through bandages, bundling up toilet paper, and taping it over your mating bite. Only after yours is taken care of does he let you do the same for his bite on his hip, and the burns on his hands. 

You pull his pants off and then his boxers down just enough so that you can get at it, small from your mouth, the skin around it irritated and pink. You try not to let your eyes hover on the small happy trail that traces from his belly button downwards. The band on his boxers is stained with blood- and you wonder how much it hurt to have it dig into it all day.

You curl up in separate beds, and only when you’re under the covers do you slide off your pants. leaving you only in a large shirt that smells like yoongi.  Yoongi does the same, says “goodnight” and shuts off the light but doesn’t turn away from you, keeping his eyes on you in the darkness. 

You’re silent for a few minutes, but you can tell that neither of you is falling asleep. Your bed feels cold and you wonder if he feels the same, you let the distance hurt for a minute before you give in.  

"Thank fucking god-" He peels back the blanket for you the second you make the move and dash across the cold room. you scoot into his warmth and he lets out a little ‘oof’ when you collide. Letting him pull you closer, put the blanket over your back, and make sure all of your skin is covered.

It’s not enough for Yoongi and he pulls you sideways so that he can get some of his weight on top of you. A growl building in his chest at the thought of anyone walking through the door right now.

He needs to check the lock, make sure that no one can possibly disturb you. Needs to- the instinct filling him so harshly he can’t breathe. He tries to pull away, but your hands tighten on him, and you let out a whine so heartbreaking that instantly has him releasing comforting chocolate, flopping back on top of you nuzzling under your chin, you feel like you’re drowning in it. 

Your love with Yoongi is still too new and raw to be close like this without feeling shy- and yet you can’t resist, your mating bond is like a fresh burn that you can’t stop picking at because it hurts. (Like there’s something dead there that you need to get rid of, you can’t heal around, you need to tear it out so that it feels more like bleeding rather than something that was carved out by hungry heat.) You fiddle with the bandage at your neck before Yoongi takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together.

For a moment, you crave the release that blood might give you- and like he can feel it. Yoongi presses a kiss to the back of your hand. “Couldn’t sleep?” Yoongi says. You shake your head. The motel creeks and overhead you can hear someone else moving in an adjacent room. Yoongi gets his head on your pillow and adjusts his hand around your waist so that he’s not hitting the vicious bruise that Geumjae left with one of his kicks.

The last 24 hours have been such a tangle. It feels weird to not move now. Yoongi’s heart is still hammering; you can feel it under your palm. You’re both unwilling to relax and close your eyes even for a second even though you’re both exhausted.

You’re worried if you close your eyes you’re going to see Geumjae's face.

Yoongi left the light in the bathroom on for you. Sensing that the shadows would be too thick with nightmares for you to handle for long. You look at each other in the darkness before Yoongi lets out a shaky little giggle.

“Do you know what I just realized?” he says, the words quieted against the too scratchy bedspread. “We could have gotten a better hotel, we easily have enough money for it now” and that’s true.

If Yoongi’s orders were followed and the gang's accountant really did transfer all of your inherited wealth to your name then- fuck- both of you saw the bank statements. Both of you know how much money Yoongi’s family had amassed- the same wealth that Geumjae had inherited and now you.

“Fuck you’re right,” you say, ducking in so that you don’t have to meet Yoongi’s eyes. Geumjae used to hit you sometimes if you did that- and trained habits die-hard. 

yoongi kisses your brow, slow little pecks that travel down your cheeks, as unhurried as they are sweet. It's strange to be close to him now when it’s all you’ve wanted for the last few months. You never thought you’d get this. It feels like a daydream and a nightmare all at once.

“We could buy a whole house- or three” and even then you’d have more than enough money to live on after. For the rest of your days, comfortable and cozy even if you were foolish with the money. Yoongi still gets his stipend from the gang. No doubt to be greater now that he’s the only beta.

He stops his kisses, mouth hovering on your cheek, “We could do that.” he sounds like he’s barely containing his excitement. 

You’ll both be fine. Neither of you will ever have to worry about money again and it makes you feel sick and happy with something that feels a terrible lot like grief.

Even if you got that- the last 24 hours haven’t been worth it. You’re not entirely out of the woods yet. The mark on your shoulder is scabbing over and inky. But every few hours of closeness that the two of you have- Yoongi think’s he sees the color fade- just a little bit.

You don’t know where the giggle comes from but one moment it comes out of your mouth and you laugh, and Yoongi joins in the sound startling out of his chest. He presses his forehead tight against yours and sighs at the sound. You see the moment clarity falls on him and an idea settles into his mind the second it hits. And dim happiness settles over your bond.

Yoongi lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses your bruised knuckles. “Let's buy a house.”

You smile- tired from today but still willing to placate him. “Okay Yoongi, we can do that.”

Now finally, his eyes are starting to droop, every few seconds he tries to keep them open, but you know he's seconds away from sleep. His words slurred when they whisper, his sweet chocolaty breath tickling your cheeks. “Goodnight sweetheart- love you.”

“Love you too,” it’s the first time you’ve ever said those words to each other. It feels like the first of many times you’ll say it. Forever- you and Yoongi will be mated together until you both die. And who cares if that happens tomorrow or months from now. Who cares? Because you have him and that’s all that matters.

Yoongi holds you and knows- that he will love you- as long as he can.

He watches you sleep, waits until your eyes are closed. Until he can make sure you’re safe and warm. A gentle purring fills the hotel room, soft and peaceful. yoongi hears it louder when he presses his ear to your chest. He tries to keep his eyes open, but somewhere around the second hour- they fall closed.

Neither of you dream.

—————

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[m0srael]

Nick of Time [1.1k | M]

Summary: Draco Malfoy is ready to sacrifice everything for the man he loves. Will he find what he's looking for in the nick of time? A gift for @maesterchill, who asked for 'angsty accidental bonding stuff', as a part of the recent round of @drarrymicrofic's Wheel of Drarry exchange. Thank you for the idea and the opportunity to gift something to you, you incredible, talented person!! Thanks, @softlystarstruck for making this 100% better! This fic is inspired by this special version of Bon Iver's cover of I Can't Make You Love Me by Bonnie Raitt. Listen before, or listen along as you read 😊. Read on Ao3

It must be the alcohol.

He’s exceptionally… aggressive tonight. He didn’t even wait for the loo door to close before he shoved me into a wall and started working on my trousers. It’s not really a secret what we do when we slink off together anymore, though. 

It’s not like I have any dignity left to lose.

I still remember the first time we did this after that stupid fucking sting operation went sideways and we got in this mess. He was so hesitant like he was afraid to touch me. I guess the worst pain imaginable will compel a man to finally put his hands on the last person on earth he wants to touch. 

The last person he wants to fuck. 

A quick and dirty shag in a disgusting pub bathroom isn’t exactly what I imagined as a young boy reading stories with Mother about soulmates and magical bonds. Though, I suppose the protagonists of those stories were gallant knights and beautiful princesses, pure of heart and noble of deed. 

Merlin knows that isn’t me. 

God, I’d be happy for him just to breathe on me willingly. His eyes are so beautiful when they’re all glassy like this, and his mouth tastes sweet, like…

Like pumpkin juice…

*

It’s a dangerous game that I play with myself. 

If I close my eyes and push away all of my intrusive thoughts I can pretend, just for a moment, that he’s holding me close like this because he actually wants me. 

I can locate the feeling in the very center of my body, the power that keeps us hurtling back toward one another like heavenly bodies trapped on a collision course, caught in one another’s gravitational pull. I can pretend that the feeling is love, and not crude obligation. 

The tightening in my belly every time he trails a finger down my spine, the goosebumps parading down my left forearm when he places a gentle kiss there. It’s real, in moments like this, when the air is still and the room is quiet and it’s like we’re the only two people in the universe.

He asks me to stay every time, because he’s good like that, but then he rolls away from me and the void between us feels like it might swallow me whole. So I leave. 

Because the reality is he’s holding me like this because he has to, because if he didn’t the pain would devour us both alive.

*

Sometimes…

Sometimes.

We have time. There’s no urgent appointment or family emergency, no back alleyway or friend’s bathroom. 

Sometimes it’s just him and me and the inexorable tie that binds us. 

A Death Eater, The Chosen One, and a bonding curse fall into bed together…

Those are the worst times.

When we’re just standing there, staring at each other, the space between us too much and not enough. I know, and I know that he knows, that we have a choice to make. Get down to it as usual–clothes off, limbs arranged, efficient but never careless. Satisfying enough to keep the pain away for however long, or–

Sometimes it’s different. 

The pain ebbs away like the tide and the pleasure that flows into the vacuum, molasses slow and honey sweet, builds and builds until the both of us are shaking and breathless. Our lips haven’t even touched and we’re still fully clothed and he’s begging. Mouth full of breathy little pleases that he tries to swallow down; hands, hips, heaving chest arching against mine.

And I’m fighting every urge in my traitorous heart to give him everything I have. Every single part of me. Because tomorrow, when the life-or-death fire in our cores has been doused, he won’t want it.

Sometimes he thumbs the tears off of my face and he whispers impossible words into my skin to bracket the goodbye kisses.

*

If I don’t look into his stupid, beautiful green eyes, I think I can do this. 

The ache in my core has been growing over the last couple of days–If I tell him now, before it becomes unbearable, maybe I can explain before it becomes too much and we lose control of ourselves. Again. 

“I’m..” Shit. No. Close your eyes, Draco. “I’m going to take the potion the healers gave us.”

Did he just sigh? The condescending bastard.

“We’ve talked about this.” 

“No, we did not talk about this, Potter. You expressly forbade any conversation on the topic, actually.”

He rolls his eyes and God. He’s so tired of this. Of me.

“Because I’m not going to let you–”

“You don’t let me do anything! I have a bloody choice, too!” 

Fuck. Calm down. My heart is racing, and he’s breathing hard, a frown twisting his lovely face. This wasn’t supposed to be an argument.

When is it not an argument with him?

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. It’s your choice. Are you sure this is what you want?” 

No, don’t laugh, it makes me sound unhinged. Only, I think I am unhinged. He has thoroughly and completely unhinged me.

But how can he seriously ask me if I’m sure?! Am I sure that I want to release him from the burden of this curse? Am I sure that the knowledge that he is free and happy and able to live his life with the person he chooses is worth losing most of my magical core forever? 

“I’m sure.” 

He’s shaking his head. Why is he shaking his head? Why is he–

“I just…want to be clear.”

He’s…so close. Fuck.

“You’re certain that the idea of being with me is so repulsive to you that you would sacrifice your magic?”

Repulsive? The word is nothing but sound to me when he’s this close and he’s looking at me like that…and I can’t even think…

“What? I–no, no–”

“Draco. You’re telling me–you are literally saying–that you would rather willingly harm yourself than…than just be with me.”

And how could there be tears on his face when I’m the one who feels like weeping? I can’t touch–shouldn’t touch–but I have to reach out and brush my heartbreak from his face with my fingers. He doesn’t deserve to be stained by it.

“Why are you crying?” 

“Can I try again?”

I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe.

“Can I try to show you how I feel? One more time. Please? And if you still want…fuck, I can’t even say it…”

“Can you…tell me instead?” Breathe, Draco. “I need you to say it. Please.”

He’s so close.

God, even now that hesitant smile makes me ache. If this is the last I get of him, at least I’ll have this to keep.

“The only pain I couldn’t withstand–”

Oh. 

“--is not having all of you, whole, for as long as I can.” 

The soft press of his warm lips, as I meet him halfway, feels like a shove back from the precipice, like an exhilarated plunge, hand in hand, into sun-heated water.

Read on Ao3

[zodiakuroo]

Cupid’s Bullet

Dabi comes home with a very special Valentine’s Day surprise for you.

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Contains: dubcon/noncon, mentions of death, unhealthy relationship, gun play, fear play, forced orgasms, squirting, mindbreak, angst (if you squint?), quirk usage, one slap but it’s a hard one :3, overstimulation, creampie

Word count: 5.3k

Notes: pls this title is so cringe but it's like bullet instead of arrow cause... ya know but anyways happy valentine’s day from scumbag boyfie!dabi

Dating a villain meant that your relationship was unconventional to say the least. For one, public dates were out of the question, unless you wanted it to end in destruction of public property and some scorched heroes. You also always had to have some kind of flimsy excuse for your family and friends when they asked to meet your elusive boyfriend. In addition, you had to accept the fact that he would have to disappear sometimes for weeks on end to do his boss’ bidding.

There was also the small matter of arson, murder and theft and a multitude of other crimes that you’d prefer not to know about. And while you weren’t necessarily okay with a lot of what Dabi did, you loved him. You loved him so much that turning a blind eye was so easy it made you question your own morality. He didn’t scare you either. Not in the slightest, because you knew in his own special way, he loved you too.

In fact it ran much deeper than that. On his worst days, Dabi could set the world ablaze until nothing was left because in the end he didn’t care about anyone or anything, not even himself. Until he met you, he says. He tells you that in you, he’s found something to tether him to this existence.

Ok so maybe he didn’t use those words exactly, but he doesn’t have to. You know that’s what he means when he spoils you with expensive, stolen clothes and jewellery, when he offers to burn alive any person who makes you even the tiniest bit upset and when he comes home to you bloodied and beaten, trusting you to take care of him.

In summary, your relationship forced you to give up on having any “normal couple” experiences.  That included, celebrating anniversaries and silly holidays like Valentine’s Day so you never bothered to keep track of them. It could hardly be considered a sacrifice when you compared those things to what you actually got from your relationship.

Dabi had been gone for close to a month now and you didn’t expect him back anytime soon, not knowing where he was or what he was doing. In fact the very last thing you expected was for him to creep into your bedroom in the middle of night and rouse you from your peaceful sleep with a soft kiss on your temple.

You don’t jump out of bed in a panic, like any sane person would. Instead you let out a satisfied hum, surrounded by the scent of burnt flesh, ash and menthol, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. It should be unpleasant but its Dabi’s scent and you’ve missed it. You’ve missed him. You pick your phone up from your night stand, squinting your eyes at the bright light that makes them sting.

Sunday 14 February, 2:43am

“Welcome home.” You mumble groggily, trying your best to fight off your tired body urging you to go back to sleep.

Instead of replying, he greets you by pressing his mouth to yours. You let out a quiet gasp, startled by the sudden display of affection. His lips are chapped but that doesn’t matter, your tongue darts out to moisten them before your lips lock into a gentle kiss.

You reach up, weaving your hands through his dark hair in an attempt to draw him closer but he retreats, opting instead to turn on the bedside lamp but keeping his other hand behind his back. “Sit up doll. Got a surprise for ya.”

Any thoughts of sleep were long forgotten as soon as his lips met yours but now he’s really piqued your interest. You push yourself up against the headboard and sit cross-legged. You look up at Dabi expectantly. Your boyfriend is smiling wide, skin pulled so taut you think one of his staples might give out. He reveals to you what he has hidden behind his back. A square black box, wrapped in a cobalt satin ribbon.

It’s so cliché you can’t help but let out a small snort. “What is it?”

“It’s a gift. You know… for Valentine’s Day?” He says as though it should be obvious to you.

Your heart swells at the gesture. It really was a surprise. Not in a bad way, you just knew he wasn’t your average boyfriend and that was okay. You didn’t want him to be.

“Well now I feel awful. I didn’t get you anything.” You pout as he props the box onto your lap.

“’S like a toy… so it’s technically for you but kinda for both of us.” It’s unusual to see Dabi this excited. The way he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes filled with mirth makes you all the more curious.

“Like a sex toy?” A giggle escapes you as you undo the bow.

“Are we playing fuckin’ 20 questions? Just open it.” He presses you.

You huff at his impatience but you don’t comment, not wanting to wait any longer either. You remove the lid of the box only to find something wildly unexpected.

A revolver?

You look up at your boyfriend with confusion etched on your face but his gleeful grin doesn’t falter. You’ve never seen a sex toy like this so you pick up the article to test its weight. It’s definitely the real deal.

“Dabi, this isn’t a toy.” You state matter-of-factly.

He merely rolls his eyes and says “Doll, when you can incinerate someone with a flick of your wrist, that little thing is definitely considered a toy?”

“O-okay? What do you want to do with it?” You ask, placing offending object onto your nightstand, not really wanting to hold on to it anymore, the metallic smell making you feel queasy.

“Ever heard of Russian Roulette?” Dabi, picks up the abandoned item, looking down at it with pride.

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows as nervousness starts to creep into your system and you instinctively move to back away from him but Dabi is quick to pull you back.

“It’s real easy doll. No need to look so scared.” He crawls on top of you, caging you in with his limbs. “6 chambers. 1 bullet. All you have to do is be a good girl for me. If not, I pull the trigger and we see what happens.”

The look on his face is positively demented. Azure eyes wide and bright, patchwork face contorted into a a sinister smile, white teeth and silver staples gleaming in the dim light.

“Baby,” you hope the pet name will placate him. It usually does. “I don’t know about thi-“

CLICK

You let out a shriek as your body jolts in fear but you’re unable to move with his weight pressing on top of you.

“You see now doll?” He clicks his tongue behind his teeth. “You’ve gone and wasted a shot.”

Dabi climbs off of you and you’re left lying there with your heart hammering violently in your chest, body trembling, still reeling from the shock of what just happened. Reeling from the shock of what is happening

“You gonna listen now? Gonna be good?” Dabi prompts, rolling the gun around in his hand.

All you can do is nod as your eyes being to water. The uneasy feeling in your stomach only grows worse as your mind races with the possible things Dabi has in store for you.

“Good. Now strip.” He command and like a good girl, you obey.

Your arms feel like they’re made of lead, moving rigidly to take off your shirt (one of Dabi’s old ones). You can’t stop the tears from falling as you pull down your panties, fat droplets roll down your cheeks, desperately trying to swallow the sounds of your sobbing.

This can’t be happening. It’s Dabi. He wouldn’t hurt you. He promised you that.

“Oh cut the fuckin’ waterworks.” He snaps. “As long as you listen, you’ll be fine.”

You try to calm yourself with deep breaths, not wanting to irritate him any further.

When you turn to face him, he’s leaning back on his haunches, one hand resting on his thigh, the other lazily gripping the revolver. “Fair warning, I’m more of a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ kinda guy. But you know that already.” He thumbs the cylinder, making it spin. “Now, touch yourself for me.”

Breathing is difficult. No matter how much you try, it’s like you can’t get enough air into your lungs. Thinking only of gun in your boyfriend’s hand, you still you bring your own hand between your legs, but you can’t concentrate, what with the dread taking over your body making it tough to have any control of your body. Your movements are stiff and apparently not up to Dabi’s standards.

He only scoffs before-

CLICK

You scream again, body nearly flying off the bed before you curl yourself up into a ball. The fright is enough to stop your heart. For a second you believe it has.

“Doll,” Dabi’s gruff voice brings you back to earth, reminding you that you’re very much alive and whether or not you stay that way is entirely up to him. “You’re ruining my surprise. Got it ‘specially for you and now you’re being a brat.” He quirks an eyebrow at you, almost like a challenge.

“So-sorry.-“ your voice breaks. “I’ll be good.”

You’re still struggling to comprehend how any of this is real. You thought you knew him. You thought he loved you. And here he is, treating your life like it’s a game. You can’t help but think that this is your own fault. You thought you were above everyone else, the exception to your boyfriend’s villain behaviour.

“Yeah?” His voice drops to a whisper. “Then show me.” He challenges you. Dabi slips off his t-shirt and moves between your legs to get a better view, pressing on your knees to split them apart.

Self-preservation kicks in. There is one way out of this alive and that’s doing what he says. You spread yourself even wider, showing him all of you. Your hands, glide over your smooth thighs, kneading the pudgy flesh as you get closer and closer your sex, teasing yourself the way he would.  Your fingers find your clit and just a little pressure makes your eyes melt shut. Probably for best anyway. It makes it easier to imagine anything but this. You drag those fingers through your delicate folds, letting out breathy sighs as heat begins to bloom between your thighs.

You pretend, its Dabi’s touch. In your mind’s eye you see the two of you, limbs tangled with Dabi on top, resting his forehead against yours. It’s one of those nights where he wants to go slow. So slow that the sensation of his cock dragging in and out of is you bordering on torturous. It’s one of those nights where he wants to lay his head on your chest, mouthing at your breasts, laving your nipples with his wet tongue while you tell him, in that sensual voice  that you love him, that he’s perfect, that he’s yours.  Because it’s one of those nights, where everything feels like too much for him and the only person that he really has on his side is you.

It’s not long before you’re leaking. Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, there’s a voice chastising you for being so easy for him… even now. There’s almost no resistance as two of your fingers, press into your entrance. Your fingers are no match for Dabi’s, they never hit all those deep, hidden spots  that make you see stars but still, you start to move them slowly, brushing your thumb over your clit every so often.

“Look at me.” You feel his breath waft over your pussy.

Eyelids fluttering open and you meet his gaze. It stuns you a little and your hands come to a standstill. He is handsome, breathtakingly so, even though he thinks you’re lying whenever you when you tell him that. The way he stares at you, with love and adoration in his eyes, it’s almost like the fantasy you were just imagining. Almost like the fantasy you’ve been living in this whole time. It’s enough to make you forget the situation you’re in. Then the muzzle of the gun is pressed to your clit, snapping you back to reality fast enough to give you whiplash.

“Fucking slut.” He growls and smacks your hand away from your pussy.

You jerk as he starts to move it the gun circles over your sensitive nub and then dipping down to your tight slit to gather up your juices.

“All those fuckin’ tears but look how wet you are.” He says more to himself than you as he admires the way your slick leaves a sheen on the barrel. With his eyes trained directly on yours, his perfectly pink tongue pokes out to lick it clean, groaning at the taste.

The next thing you know his arms are wrapped around your legs, guiding them over his broad shoulders. He kisses you on your mons before his tongue begins greedily lapping at your hole. “Tastes so good doll.” He mutters with his nose pressed against your clit. He slips the wet muscle inside of you making you whine.  You reflexively grab onto his black hair, tugging on the stands and he lets out a groan of approval. He moves up to your clit, circling it with his tongue before suckling on it. While he brushes just the tip of a finger over your cunt, making it clench around nothing while you desperately buck your hips, in an attempt to have it inside you.

The way he’s eating you out is almost romantic?

Or it would be, if it weren’t for the metal digging into your flesh.

“Doll,” He places a sloppy kiss on your clit, lighting dragging his teeth over the hood. “Want you to squirt for me.”

A lump forms in your throat. You can count on one hand the amount of times that has happened. You’re not sure of the odds that you’d be able to right now and it’s not a gamble you’re willing to take. “Dabi, I don’t think I can….”

CLICK

You thrash, screaming so loud it makes your throat burn.

Dabi still holds you open, keeping you in place. “I wasn’t asking.” He makes sure to maintain eye contact as he drops a fat glob of spit right on to your clit before diving face first into your cunt once again.

He pushes 2 of his long, lithe fingers into your tight entrance. It’s unexpected and you wince. He drags his right hand (the one holding the gun) up your torso, resting the muzzle underneath your breast, right over your racing heart. A reminder of what’s at stake. He envelopes your sensitive clit with his lips, moving his fingers in tandem with the suction. You’re consumed by desire as Dabi brings you so close to the edge.

“Dee-Deeper please.” Your pant out.

He smiles against your mound before complying with your request. “Right here?” His fingers press against that squishy patch deep inside you and your eyes roll back.

“Nnnggg yeah.” You’re barely able to mewl out. You dig your heels into his back and grind against his face, chasing your high. Dabi keeps hitting that spot with astonishing precision but you hold off for as long as you can, letting the pleasurable sensation build until the pressure in your core becomes unbearable. When it finally snaps because you can’t hold it anymore, your eyes squeeze shut, hands flying to his biceps and you dig your nails into the sinewy muscle. You gush around his fingers and all over his face. Dabi doesn’t move though, flicking your clit with his tongue repeatedly until you’re trembling and whimpering, pushing him away from your pussy. He finally relents, a pop echoing around the room as he lets go of you.

He gives you a predatory look, scared face and chest wet with the remnants of your orgasm. “You made such a mess baby but I’m glad you’re finally having fun.” He’s just as out of breath as you are but far more composed.

Your head is still fuzzy and limbs are still twitching but your boyfriend doesn’t let you recover. “C’mon, doll. My turn.” He begins to undo his belt, silver buckle clinking as he rushes to drag it through the loops of his jeans

You pull yourself on to all fours, now eye level with his crotch. He pulls down his pants and boxers in one go, his erection almost hitting you in the face.

“You’ve been lucky so far.” He taps the bulbous head of his cock on your lips, smearing your lips with the pre that dribbles out of it. “But I wouldn’t test it if I were you. Open.”

Your mouth is already watering at the sight of him. So long, thick and veiny. It’s disgusting actually, this Pavlovian response. He fucks you deeper, stretches you wider and makes you feel better than anyone ever had. You wonder briefly, if anyone ever could fuck you as good as Dabi.

You stick out your tongue and he slides himself between your lips, groaning as he pushes into your mouth, slowly, inch by inch. He fills your mouth completely and you shut your eyes, savouring the salty taste of him but you feel the muzzle press against your temple and making them shoot open. “Atta girl. Lemme see those pretty eyes.” He grunts as he plunges into your throat. You bob your head up and down his shaft, the hand at the back of your head setting a brutal pace. The room is filled with the sounds of you gagging and his hefty sac smacking against your chin.

“So good to me baby.” He tilts his head back, losing himself in the pleasure. The wet heat of your mouth surrounding him while your saliva leaks out, dripping down his balls. Dabi is big and heavy, stretching you so wide and making you jaw ache from the weight of him. You’re already lightheaded from the lack of air, no matter how much you try breathing through your nose. You don’t dare to complain though.

He pulls out of your mouth slowly, stretching a string of saliva from the head of his dick to your tongue that’s hanging out of your mouth. You pant like a bitch attempting to catch your breath. He doesn’t give you much time before he’s in your throat again, back to fucking your face.

“I love you so much. You love me?” He sounds so sweet, totally blissed out.

He stops thrusting and tilts your head up to look at him, blinking tear-clumped lashes. You try utter a ‘Yes, I love you.’ but with his shaft gagging you, it comes out all garbled. The muscles in your throat convulse around the deep intrusion. “You’d do anything for me right?” He asks, jabbing the muzzle even harder into your temple, finger resting lightly on the trigger. You nod, watching Dabi lose his composure bit by bit. “Yeah. That’s why you’re my girl.” He pushes himself even deeper inside you, making you finally take all of him, until your nose meets his pubic hair and holding you there. “Fuck.”

CLICK

“Hmmhhhhngggh” You squeal around him but you can’t pull off because of the grip he has on your scalp. When he lets you go you’re choking and coughing up a lewd mixture of spit and pre-cum.

“Wh- Why” You blubber, voice hoarse. You don’t understand. You were doing exactly what he asked. You were being good.

“Sorry baby. Felt so good, my finger slipped.” He doesn’t even try to hide his mischievous smirk. The fucker is definitely not sorry.

You want to beg him to stop this ridiculous game because you see now there’s no way you can win because Dabi doesn’t play fair.

He doesn’t give you the chance though, already shuffling off his bottoms all the way and propping himself up against the headboard. “C’mon pretty baby.” He tugs on your ankle.  Wanna see you bounce on my dick.”

You clumsily position yourself atop his lap quickly, before you can even think about it. You know he doesn’t need a reason to pull that trigger but still, you don’t want to give him one.

He grinds his tip along your heat, piercings dragging across your clit over and over again. It’s something he does whenever you have sex, to rile you up. And just like all those other times, it’s working. Circumstances be damned. “Needa feel this hot little pussy. Give it to me doll.” He murmurs against the shell of your ear.

You nod as you lift yourself off of him to hover your dripping wet hole over his hard dick. You slowly squat down on onto him, the fat head stretching you out, burning with every inch you take. You mewl, making futile attempts to blink away tears. You get halfway before you have to stop, resting your hands on his shoulders trying to gain leverage. You’re outright crying now, wet droplets landing on Dabi’s chest.

“’S matter doll.”

I’m terrified. You yell in your head but stay silent, choosing to focus on relaxing your ever-tightening hole in order to take more of him.

“Oh, I know.” He coos, voice dripping with condescension. “’S too big for your tiny cunny.” He leans forward to kiss away the salty tears. “But you can take it. I know you can.” He cups your jaw, stroking your cheek with a calloused thumb. “You can do it for me”

You start to move slowly up and down, using gravity to force more of his monstrous cock inside you with shallow movements. You really are trying your best but that’s apparently not good enough for Dabi and he lets you know that by pressing the barrel of the gun into your stomach. You freeze, horrified, more tears start falling from your eyes. You open your mouth to beg him to just give you a little time. You’re trying.

“Quit being a baby and just take it.” He says before you even get the chance.

“I’m trying Dabi, please just-“

CLICK

He cuts off your plea.  He’s not interested in your excuses.

The rotation of the cylinder sends vibrations through your abdomen. Amidst the shock, you release your grip on his shoulders and impale yourself on his shaft by mistake. The combination of the searing stretch and the blunt head of his cock kissing your cervix is so overwhelming that you collapse forward, head falling on to your boyfriend’s chest. You feel the rumbles of his chuckles while he’s quite literally splitting you open.

“See? Knew you could. Just needed a little scare. Isn’t that right.” He rubs your back as if to comfort you. He lets out a low whistle. “But looks like you’re all out of chances doll. Now bounce.” He gives you a spank with an inhumanly warm hand, making you squeal and leaving your cheek tender.  

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders again. Dabi’s sapphire eyes are practically glowing, daring you to be stupid enough to defy him one more time.

You pull off almost entirely, keeping just his tip inside of you, before spearing his shaft into you again.

“Good girl.” When he praises you with that raspy voice makes you keen and desperate for more of it.

His hand snakes its way up your torso to cup one of your breasts. Your back arches, pushing into his scorching hot touch, forgetting momentarily about his other hand and what he’s holding in it.  He gropes your chest, tweaks and twists at your nipples, leaving red, inflamed hand prints in his wake. You’re practically delirious with pleasure, babbling out incoherent streams of his name along with “yes” and “more”.  All the while, he murmurs praises about how good you are and how much he loves you. It’s confusing and you can’t process any of it.

“Who owns this perfect pussy?”

“Dabi. Fuck. Dabi.” Your tongue lolls out of your mouth in the most obscene way, drooling down your chin. Your plush walls pulse around him as he hits that sensitive spot every time you sink down on him.

“That’s right it’s all fuckin mine. My pretty baby.” Dabi’s eyes are focus on where your two bodies are connected watching the translucent ring of your cream appear and disappear as you ride him.

“Preeeettyyy.” You slur and he laughs at how fucked out you are, brain completely jumbled between the fear, the pain and the bliss all combined into ecstasy.

“Doll.” He groans. “I feel ya squeezin’ me. You gonna cum?”

He’s right. You nod as you feel that coil tightening again, threatening to snap at any second. The man finally starts putting in work, pounding into you every time you pull off of him. Dabi abandons the gun in favour of playing with your clit, rubbing quick sloppy circles. “Yeah? Gonna cream and gush around me? Want you to baby.” He buries his head in the crook of your neck, sucking, biting and licking while he assaults your sopping wet pussy. “C’mon doll, please.”

With that you orgasm. He grabs your hips pulling you flush against his thighs, fucking you through your orgasm, rolling his hips up into you until your high finally subsides.

He doesn’t let you catch your breath before he’s got the revolver pressed hard underneath your chin. “Now make me cum.” You almost collapse but the harsh grip he has on your hair suspends you upright.

Your mind is so foggy and Dabi gives you a small smile, appreciating the perplexed look in your droopy eyes. But he’s not done with you yet.

“Hey.” You’re ripped from your daze, when he slaps you across the face, sending your head swinging to the side. “Don’t pass out on me now.”  

“So-sorry! ‘M sorry!” You grovel as you slam your tired body down on his dick once again, trying to ignore the throbbing on your cheek, the ringing in your ears, and the ache in your battered cunt.  You’re so sensitive from your last orgasm but you don’t have a choice and you don’t dare deny him anything. Your thighs are quaking and burning with every movement but your boyfriend is unimpressed.

“You can do better than that doll.” He lets out a bitter laugh, enjoying every second of tormenting you. “It’s like you want your brains splattered on the ceiling.”

You start crying again, shaking your head frantically. In the time that you’ve been with Dabi, you’ve learned certain tricks, you know he likes it, but in this panic/lust induced frenzy, you can’t remember any of them. Instead, you bounce, mindlessly on him while your gummy walls clench tighter around him every time he nudges at your a-spot. Your legs are going numb from all the effort and you plop down, limp onto his lap, taking him to the hilt.

Dabi tsks at you, reminding you that you can’t rest just yet. You swivel your hips, grinding your pelvis against his while he’s buried deep in your wet heat. You pray to whatever deity is listening that he’s getting close, you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“If I don’t bust in the next 5 seconds.” His hand finds your clit again, you grind across his fingers has you rock against him. “Bang!” He emphasises the word by bringing a heated palm down on your ass.

A choked sob bubbles at the back of your throat, making him snicker

Hands pressed to his chest, you ride him like a woman possessed, the last bits of adrenaline kicking in. Your sloppy cunt squelches every time you drive yourself down on his cock just motivating you to fuck him harder.

“Five.” He grits out.

“Dabi, please!” But you’re met with icy, apathetic eyes staring back at you, feeling the terror that the rest of the city does when they so much as hear his name.

“Four.” He rubs your already raw clit, faster and you can feel another orgasm building, much quicker than your last two.

Your body feels so heavy but you can’t stop moving, not unless you want him to- “Please cum!” You beg. “Need your cum.”

“Three.”

He starts to fuck up into you again with unforgiving force.

“Wh-Why?!” is all you can manage as your mind starts to fog up again, the need to come becoming all the more urgent.

“Two.” He ignores your question, transfixed on your tits bounce in his face. You’re getting close to your third orgasm of the night and it seems Dabi is determined to get you there.

You still can’t believe this is real. You never thought that Dabi would treat you like this. You were supposed to be special.

Or at least that’s what he told you.

Moreover, you can’t believe how your own body is betraying you. You can’t believe you’re actually going to cum. Again.

“One.”

You cry out his name one last time, unsure if it’s out of fear or pleasure. You dig your nails into his arms again, in a feeble attempt to ground yourself as you cum around him. The orgasm that rips through you makes it difficult for you to be sure of anything.

What you are sure of is the fact that there was no bang or bullet.

Just one last CLICK (practically drowned out by your screaming) and the sensation of Dabi’s hot cum flooding your womb. He has a bruising grip on your hips, gun now discarded, and he ruts up into to making sure to stuff your cunt absolutely full of him. He begins to laugh as he softens inside you.

Your head is still spinning but once you’re able to push yourself off of him, you can finally make sense of what just happened.

He was fucking with you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You yell, using weak and quivering arms to throw pillows at him while you cry so hard it makes you dry heave.

Your asshole of a boyfriend starts cackling, clutching his abdomen as if he just pulled the world’s funniest prank while your heart is beating so hard and fast you think it might break through your ribcage.

“You should have seen your face. You were so fuckin’ scared.”

You become nauseous, feeling bile rising in your throat as you come to a sickening realisation.

This is not your Dabi. This is the Dabi that the rest of the world gets to see.

Evil, sadistic, merciless. This is the real Dabi.

You attempt to scramble off of the bed to get away from him, feeling overwhelmed by the humiliation. But Dabi grabs your wrist and yanks you into his chest, wrapping you up in his arms. A gesture you used to treasure but now it just made your skin crawl. “C’mon Doll you didn’t think I was being serious did you?”

You writhe in his hold, hitting against his hard, toned chest with pathetic fists. “Don’t be such a crybaby. It was just a joke.” He strokes your hair oh so tenderly. But you won’t fall for that again. Dabi is a villain through and through. You know that now.  

It’s no use fighting him off though, all the fight in you is used up. You don’t know what else to do. So you do the easy thing: nuzzle your head into his chest, tremors rocking your body as you hiccup, while he holds you. That way you can pretend that you feel safe with him, just like you used to.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, doll. I love you.”

[3rdgymbros]

— title; when is a monster not a monster? (oh, when you love it).

— pairing; zhongli x reader

— summary; in which zhongli loses control and turns into a dragon, but you manage to bring him back.

— notes; i don’t play genshin, so i hope it’s not too ooc !! special thanks to @yuebloom​ and​ @degenerate-yandere and @teyvatstories​ for their support !! if anyone is interested, the song referenced in this fic is called asking the zither and can be found here !!

Screaming.

The sound that sears itself into your ears is like nothing you've never heard before, the hoarse scream of an enraged animal that vibrates through your whole body, scraping over your skin like claws.

With much effort, you finally manage to open your eyes. It's excruciating. Your eyelids feel like they're made of lead. Squinting against the sudden light, you try to sit up, but can only groan as your body erupts into joint-wrenching pains. Your face is wet, and dampness runs down into your collar.

"Ow." You say; at least, that's what you try to say. It comes out as more of an indistinct moan. You have to resist the urge to sink back into that suffocating blackness, somewhere far away, where the pain can't reach you. "Where –"

Another scream. Closer this time. Sounding almost human. Wearily, you raise your head, push yourself onto hands and knees; there’s pain in each of your ribs, one by one, like a xylophone breaking as it plays.

Wind rips at your robes and branches fly by. Dirt and bits of grass are rising and dancing chaotically as though enchanted. Trees fall with a shudder that shakes the earth. A deafening roar sounds above your head, and you look up, amazed, to see a dragon, his silhouette dark against the sun. His scales are a dark, burnished shade of brown, his eyes and horns and spinal plates a bright, vivid amber. The dragon throws back his head and screams, blowing out golden flames with his next exhale.

Even as far away as you are, you can still feel the searing heat, washing over your face, and bringing with it memories, roaring through your mind with vicious velocity.  You remember falling to the ground in a bloodied heap, burgundy poison staining your robes. You remember hearing an awful, strangled cry from Rex Lapis, as though he had been the one in pain. And then – nothing.

Staring at the dragon's familiar amber eyes, it isn't so hard to surmise what had happened, how things had taken the worst possible turn.

Now, as a dragon, Rex Lapis has single-handedly managed to turn the tides of battle. Archons and humans alike are turning and fleeing, a mass exodus intent on escaping from this unstoppable force of nature. The dragon lands on the scorched earth, unleashing flames and teeth and claws. You watch his head crane around at the end of that long serpentine neck, watch as his tail lashes sideways and catches a man making his escape, breaking him in two. You have to choke back the urge to vomit, swallowing back your own fear. Blood, and sticky smoke clings to you.

“Rex Lapis!” You scream, unsure if he can hear you. “REX LAPIS!”

His head turns. Smoke rises between his teeth. He sweeps his tail again, sending up a choking storm of dust and sand. You stumble into the cloud of darkness and smoke with a cough. He snaps, flashing razor sharp teeth and claws. The black teeth close inches away from your face.

No, you want to say. Not me, no, no, don't you remember me?

Your chest constricts tightly, practically squeezing your throat shut with panic. The sand is in your eyes now. Stinging, blinding, filling them with tears. Stumbling back, you tumble to the ground once again. Your back and head absorb the brunt of the landing. Warmth drips down your cheeks. You aren't sure if it’s blood, sweat, tears, or a mixture of all three fluids.

Rex Lapis roars, a sound of fury, daring anyone to challenge him. The sound fills your ears. A furnace wind engulfs you. The dragon’s long scaled neck stretches out towards you. His eyes are molten. Panic shivers up your spine. Your mouth is dry, no matter how often you swallow, but you can't – don't dare to – look away.

For the first time in your life, you're scared of Rex Lapis.

He's known to all as the God of War, and you've lost count of the number of times he's personally brought his enemies to their end, but he's always treated you with a guarded tenderness, and you've never felt anything but safe in his presence, as though nothing else in the world had existed but you and him.

Now, Rex Lapis roars full in your face, his breath hot enough to blister skin.

"Rex Lapis." You choke out, barely able to catch your breath. Ash and cinders scorch your throat. “Rex Lapis. It’s [ NAME ]. You remember me, right?”

In the smoldering pits of his eyes, you can see your own reflection. How small you look, how weak and frail and scared. Rex Lapis is looking at you, but he isn’t seeing you. As if sensing danger, your skin prickles, power calling to you. It buzzes through your heart and mind. You imagine vines and thorns erupting from the ground, the green tendrils consuming everyone and everything in their path. For an instant, you think about ending the battle. Enough blood has been shed. You're tired of fighting. You could do it; it would even be easy. But then you look into those eyes, lakes of molten gold, and a lead weight settles upon your shoulders. Your heart gives up, exploding, bursting like a balloon.

Not on him, you think. You can't hurt him. Not when he’s like this; scared, in pain, reeling.

Rex Lapis roars again, the sound full of fear and fury, full of pain. His teeth snap at you, inches away from your face.

“REX LAPIS!”

The dragon jerks his head back.

“Stop!”

Behind a fence of sharp black teeth you glimpse a furnace glow, the shimmer of a sleeping fire. Wisps of smoke spiral upward from the dragon’s nostrils. You can barely see through your tears, but you stare at Rex Lapis until he meets your gaze again. Your legs are quivering, but you fear that if you turn and run now, he truly will be lost to you.

“It’s okay. Rex Lapis, it’s okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you, so please –” You can't finish as your voice breaks, and you're reduced to coughing, trying to clear the sobs caught in your throat. You've expected the terror to abate at your words, or your heart to stop shattering, but it doesn't. It just makes it worse. "Please –"

Please come back.

Come back to me.

His long serpentine neck bends like an archer’s bow, preparing to rain down hellfire again. You swallow past the fear, past the lump of waterworks wedged deep in your throat.

"I used to sing to you. In the gardens, in the afternoons. When you were taking your tea." You say, quietly, quietly, even as something in the pit of your stomach falls away. "Do you remember?"

The dragon looks at you, his gaze lingering for the span of three long heartbeats. You think you see a flicker of awareness. Brief, but it's there.

It feels as though all the air has been squeezed out of your lungs, but still, you sing. You owe it to him, to this god who extended his hand to you in friendship, who offered you warmth and companionship and protection, a home to call your own. Your voice is soft, softer than you've ever heard it.

The night is tender, cold springs ripple. Memories surface in my reflections. I play a song, you smile once more in my dreams.

The words are like a silk shawl, light and cool. You can smell wild roses, fresh-cut hay, bonfires. Grass springs up between your toes, and the earth warms beneath the soles of your feet.

Yours is the only voice that you can hear, the shouts and screams and the world falling away into nothing. Nothing exists except for this, except for your song, the rawness of your throat, pushing the words and a shaky melody out into the still, warm air.

And the dragon listens.

He bends his dark head, and with a last hiss, coils himself around your body like a great serpent, resting his head upon your lap. You can feel him relax, feel him sinking into the earth and into you. His scales are hot to the touch, like armor left too long in the sun.

Still, you continue singing, gentle and reassuring as your hands stroke over his scales, tracing the ragged grooves of his horns. You wish for your touch to be enough, for your voice to bring him back. The dragon slips away from you with a deep exhalation.

You're still holding him close, until long after the sun sets, when the glossy dark scales have melted away, and Rex Lapis lies upon your lap, a man once more.

[luimagines]

He reacts to seeing you Sick/Wounded Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 3

Scenario under the cut! Blood ahead so be warned.

Twilight

Twilight looked around the group for what had to be the umpteenth time, searching for you.

You had left awhile ago and had yet to return.

If it was Wild or Hyrule he wouldn’t have put much thought into it. The two of them were notorious for wandering off if something shiny caught their eye and they could be gone for hours.

Not you though.

If anything, you were the one to insist on keeping the group together and to avoid “splitting the party”. as you’d say. You even had a song to go with it, a catchy little tune from your world and he caught himself humming under his breath more than once when he realize someone was gone.

But you were gone long enough now that you even missed a meal.

Twilight started bouncing his knee in anticipation, the worse scenarios coming to mind at what could be happening to you.

“I’m going to find them.” He said, standing up and walking away from the group.

He waits until he’s far enough away to take out the necklace he’s been carrying around since the start of this adventure.

Twilight activates the charm and feels the magic wash over him, his vision and senses sharpening as the worlds color fade and his perspective changes.

There’s always a little discomfort as the beginning of each transformation so he takes a second to compose himself.

Twilight then starts sniffing the air and catches your scent, following where it leads. The path is pretty straight forward and he can almost reconstruct how long it took for you to reach the destination. Twilight travels a little farther than he was expecting, it’s way farther than hearing range, even with his advanced ears.

It’s a little concerning because even if you were to scream for help, there’s no way any of them would have known.

He’s trying to be optimistic. Twilight has seen you fight. He has seen you treat your own wounds. He was personally seen your resourcefulness in tricky situations. There’s little, he thinks, that can actually keep you down.

But then his worst nightmare comes to his nose and he takes off in a sprint. 

It’s blood.

It’s yours.

And there’s a lot of it.

He follows it as far as he can until he hears a pained whimper.

Twilight then follows the sound and comes to a stop, shocked at the sight before him.

You’re sitting up against a tree, the top half of you looks fine if only a little ragged and there’s tear streaks down both your cheeks. Twilight follows the line of your body and sees that there’s no injuries on your arms or torso even if your hands are covered in blood.

But at sight of your leg, he knows what’s happened.

There has to be people nearby, that’s the only explanation.

It’s metal trap with sharp jagged teeth that penetrate the skin and muscle in order to keep the prey from escaping, and they’re incredibly hard to break out of if you don’t have the right equipment. They’re also known for breaking bones if they hit in the right places.

It’s also clamed just above your ankle, blood weeps through still and has travels through the fabric of your pants un to your knee, pronouncing the injury even more.

“Wolfie...” You whimper and try to smile at seeing him. “Yay, you found me. I knew you’d come get me at some point. I tried calling but I think I’m too far away.”

Twilight’s heart bleeds for you and how scared you must have been before he showed up. And he wishes he would have gone looking for you sooner.

You sniffle and whip your face and nose with your sleeve, avoiding the mess on your hands. “I can’t get out. I tried but it’s stuck.” 

Twilight pads closer and sticks his nose by your hands but you pull them back. “I know it looks bad but my hands aren’t hurt...It’s all from my leg. I don’t want to get blood on your pretty fur.”

Twilight doesn’t take time to process the compliment and instead is focused on the choice he has in front of him.

Transform and reveal his secret to you, enabling him to help you here and now or go back and get help, leaving you to the mercy of whatever finds you in your vulnerable state.

It’s a pretty easy choice actually.

Twilight calls off the magic and lets the transformation wash over him. As per usual, the change is disorienting and it’s always hurt more to turn back human than it did to change into a wolf, so he takes a moment to breath before he looks at your ankle.

“Tw-Twilight? You’re Wolfie?” You splutter and try to wrap your head around what you just saw.  “It’s been you this whole time?!”

But he’s ignoring you.

He takes a good look at where the trap is and begins to prod ever so slightly.

“H-HEY!” You cry and try to reach for him. “Don’t! It hurts!”

He doesn’t have the key to unlock it and he doesn’t have the right tools at his disposal to try and pick the lock.

“Twilight please say something.”

“I’m going to get you out. Just hold on a little longer.” He glares at the metal for a moment before placing both his hands around it.

If there’s one thing he’s always been confident in, it’s his strength.

With both hands secured on the device he forces all of his weight to pry it open. He ignores how you continue to make sounds of pain, how his finger tips immediately become moist with your blood and how difficult moving this stupid thing to get you free actually turns out to be. 

After a battle of wills between man and the artificial, it moves and he tilts his hands to keep the momentum going until he’s moved enough of it for you to pull your leg out.

“Go. Get out.” He says with the strain in his voice.

You push away with your hands and your good leg to the best of your ability and slowly (well slower than Twilight would have preferred) to move your leg out of the trap and far enough away where he can simply let it clamp on itself again without fear of losing any fingers or hurting you again.

You gulp and try to move your pant leg to see the damage but it’s clear that doing that hurts you as well.

Twilight it quick to cut off the fabric with his trusted pocket knife and he peels it away.

Bones have definitely been broken.

And there’s certainly a lot of blood to deal with.

He twists the fabric slightly and wraps it above and around your injury to try and stop the flow of blood. Twilight can feel the glare he’s giving to your wound and refuses to look you in face so you can see it.

“Twilight?” You call to him. Your voice is small, weak, tired and afraid.

He can’t leave you to your own thoughts like he wants to so he takes a breath to calm himself and looks at you with as much gentleness and care as he can currently muster.

“You’re going to be just fine, ok?” He says with a small smile. “You’re actually pretty far from the others so it’ll be a bit of a trip but then we’ll get Hyrule to look at you, clean you up... find you some new clothes... You’ll be back to where you were in no time.”

Twilight’s not sure who he’s trying to convinced. It looks deep.

He hopes your foot won’t need to be cut off and that infection hasn’t already set in.

He moves towards you and stops on your good side, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. In one swift movement he hooks his other arm under your knees and picks you up bridal style and begin to walk away from the mess.

You sniffle again and wipe your bloodied hands on your shirt. “Thank you Twilight.” You say. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“Well you’re going to have to tell one of us what happened.” He responds. “The other are going to ask what on earth happened to you.”

“I meant about you being Wolfie.” You smile. “I’m fully prepared to explain my stupid decisions.”

The easy way you make that claim nearly makes him skip a step and send you both to the ground but Twilight is quick to readjust himself so that it never happens.

He had actually forgotten about that.

“I’d appreciate that.” He nervously chuckles.

“Don’t worry. I’ll cover you when you’re gone. I was starting to suspect something was related because your stories never matched up but I had no proof and no idea where to start. You’re... really not the best at it.” You say and pat his head. “So you save me, I save you. Sound fair?”

“That works for me.”

Time

Time had let Warrior lead the group because he seemed to be the most familiar with the terrain, even if he claims that this isn’t his Hyrule.

With someone capable taking the point, he hung back and let the other walk before him.

He had noticed that you were... weren’t yourself. Like you were hiding something.

You weren’t really interacting with anyone, and you kept your head down, something he hasn’t really known you to do. On another note, you were actually at the back of the group where he was currently stationed.

You always liked to be in the upper middle, talking and entertaining the younger ones and keeping up the group’s moral.

So the fact that you quiet and trying to go unnoticed, arms crossed and head down, worried him.

“Rupee for your thoughts?” He asked you as you walked.

You glanced up at him but you didn’t meet his eyes.

Something was wrong.

“I’m not really thinking about much of anything.” You admitted and shrugged. “I’m just a bit under the weather. I’ll be fine in a bit.”

“You don’t feel good?” Time frowns and stops the both of you with a hand on your shoulder. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“And slow down literally everyone.” You raise an eyebrow at him and he takes a quick second to catalogue your pink cheeks and red rimmed eyes.

Something is wrong.

“It’s just a headache.” You insist. “We’re already behind by how knows how long and it’ll go away on its own. I appreciate the concern but I don’t want to be a hinderance more than anything think I am.”

“For one thing, no one thinks you’re a hinderance.” Time says, taking off his gauntlet and he presses the back of his hand against your forehead, then your cheeks and the back of your neck. “If any one of those boys has told you that, you tell me and I’ll set them straight.”

He doesn’t miss the way you lean and hum in relief from his touch.

Truthfully, you’re actually burning up more than your skin seems to show and his concern sky rockets beyond the moon and back of this proverbial saying.

“I appreciate the thought but it’s not that important.” You say and he catches the way you frown in displeasure when he pulls away.

“Who told you that?” He asks in lieu of bringing your illness to light.

“No one.”

Time frowns some more and says your name in his stern commander voice that he knows you hate.

“No one.” You insist. “No one here anyway.”

From your previous adventure perhaps? Time puts the information away in the back of his mind and vows to vanquish the thoughts from your head when he can, but your health takes precedence right now.

“I think it’s about time to take a break anyway.” Time puts his gauntlet back on and begins to walk forward, leading you with a hand on the small of your back. “Maybe the Champion would be willing to make something for lunch.”

“Think he can cook something up for my headache?” You sigh and massage your temples in a way that seems reminiscent.

“That and more, if you ask him.” He replies easily and lets out a loud whistle that has become their cue to set up for the midday break.

It takes a while for your duo to make it to the others but at least you weren’t so far gone that no one would have heard Time’s signal.

You instantly take a step down and sit on the ground, cradling your head in a way that looks more like you’re crying than merely resting.

Time feels his heart clench at the sight and makes his way over to Wild. He tells them what he found out and asks if he can make something special for you. Something to keep you going.

Because as much as he wants to, this is not the place to stop for the night and with your pride on the line, he doesn’t want the others to crowd and bring more attention than you’d be comfortable with to your predicament.

“There’s a town about three hours from here.” Warrior’s speaks up, having eavesdropped on the conversation Time was trying to have on the down low. “We can hit it before night fall and let them rest in an actual bed for the night.”

Time nods and agree with the notion.

The others seem to catch on that you’re not feeling well and Time discourages them from getting closer than they should, less they get sick as well.

The break is quiet and uneventful for a change and Time is quick to get the group up and moving again when it’s over, choosing to keep you company on the way to the town and trying to make it as painless and comfortable for you as he can.

A part of him thinks that he should just swallow his pride and yours and carry you to the town as you deteriorate on the walk, but it’s not like you’d let him.

He’d just have to satisfy his concern when he eventually takes watch over your bed side, just to make sure you wake up feeling better.

Wind

Wind was sure that you’re hiding something.

You’ve been shifty eyed and nervous, jittery and uncollected.

So unlike the you that he’s come to know, rely on and appreciate.

It scares him a little, to see you so unlike yourself.

Wind makes a calculated guess on why you’re so weird after walking by your side for most of the journey. 

You’re hurt and trying to not let anyone else know.

He can tell by how you’re trying to curl in yourself and fold over but have to keep righting your position. You’re having to walk with one foot on your toes because if you tried any more normally, you’d be limping. You’re a bit slower than your usual walking pace but you’ve been arcing your stride a little to the side so that it matches in length what you wouldn’t be able to make up for in number of steps.

He’s almost impressed by how well you’ve been hiding it.

But it’s drowned out by the irritation of your stubbornness. You could have just told someone, anyone, and they’d help you in seconds. You wouldn’t have to be in pain or having to stop every other second to hide a wince or a grunt or-

Wind is this close to just stopping everything to scream in your face.

He takes a small glance over to you as you walk, and sighs. He knows you won’t listen to him if he tries to say something. And you’d probably be irritated at him instead for trying to make a fuss about it.

Wind doesn’t know what to do, or how to help you, without being pushed away.

You trip.

Wind is too shocked by the outcome to even try to stop you from falling face first into the ground. 

Ok, not face first. You manage to twist yourself just in time to avoid a face on collision, but you land on your side in the process.

Your bad side.

You yell in pain which alerts the whole group ahead and behind you. But you don’t seem to care about that anymore. You finally give into the urge and curl in on yourself, rolling over so that the ground is against your good side and nothing is irritating whatever hit you’ve been hiding.

Wind has to nearly smack himself out of it before he makes it to your side. He can hear the other catching up, their footsteps thundering mutely on the dirt but he’s more focused on you and where your hand seems to be cradling your side.

He’s quick to peel your hand off and lift your shirt.

You’re too shocked and stunned from the pain to stop him. Enough so that you’re brain doesn’t even register it, so you don’t fight back.

He gasps at the the sight and his stomach turns ever so slightly.

It’s a massive bruise, from up to your ribs that are highlighted in a toxic green, down to your hip and it’s not even black and blue. It’s so bad there’s more red on the surface than purple and it makes it look like you’re covered in blood even if the skin hasn’t been breached.

He knows what caused this. 

Two days ago the group had found themselves in the middle of a fight with not one, but three infected monsters and one of them had a nasty looking club. You were fighting with him and on one of them and had taken a hit directly to your side. It was strong enough that it sent you spinning through the air and right into a tree. He didn’t think much of it since you simply bounced back like nothing happened and proceeded to stab the thing through the skull, but if he tries hard enough, he think you hit the same side on the tree as well.

But you didn’t drink a potion, he doesn’t think he even saw you being healed by Hyrule. Which means that you just had this on you for so long and you just- weren’t going to tell anyone?!

Wind can feel his heart clench in tandem with his first, your shirt nearly ripping since it was trapped in between his fingers. “HYRULE!”

“What happened?” Warrior makes it to his side first and stops mid-step when he catches sight of it. “I’ll... go get the Traveler.”

There’s a few seconds in between before you shake off the pain and rip your clothes out of his grip, forcing yourself to get to your feet again.

Everyone is too shocked by what they’ve seen verses how you’ve acting that they almost let you but Wind has been next to you, watching you, and he still is. He catches that your arms are shaking as you put your weight on it, and when you try and compensate for your bad side, you nearly throw yourself over again from your bad balance.

Wind pushes you back down and keeps his hands on your shoulders so keep you from trying that again.

Hyrule takes his cue and slides on his knees until he reaches your side, his healing spell fluttering around his fingers and into the nasty bruise.

“Guys, I’m fine.”

“Cut the bullcrap.” Wind says, knowing that Twilight and Time are behind him with Sky not too far behind. He hopes they let that one slide at least. “It’s looks like you were stabbed fifty seven times and poisoned to top of it all.”

You look up at him then and sigh, the fight leaving instantaneously. “Whatever.”

“It’s not whatever!” He argues but you cut him off.

“It’s just a bruise. It’ll heal in a few days and nothing is broken. But because it’s you holding me down, I’ll let you heal me.” You try for a half smile but Wind thinks it falls flat. “I’m not even going to try and fight a pirate in my state. Take your victory for now.”

“You didn’t have to let it get so bad.” Hyrule scolds you and you don’t even have the decency of at least looking apologetic.

“It was the fall that really made it hurt.” You clench your jaw when your shirt gets lifted higher for Hyrule to heal the bruise on your ribs. “It was just awkward before that.”

“No it wasn’t” Wind frowns even harder. “You were walking funny. It hurt like hell back there too and for a while as well. Why didn’t you get treatment with the others? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Wind.” You say with as much patience you can muster. Your face begins to relax as the pain fades and the bruise changes to a more normal shade of purple with black spots. “We have no potions left. And Hyrule can only do so much healing in one go.”

“Speaking of...” Legend steps in and yanks Hyrule back by the shoulder, stopping the healing process.

Hyrule takes a minute to reorient himself and he steps away from a minute to catch his breath.

Wind takes another look at your injury and winces. While it looks significantly better than it did seconds prior, it’s not completely healed and would likely have to take more magic to heal on its own. They could just leave it there for the days it’ll take for it to heal naturally but Wind doesn’t like the idea of leaving you hurt for more than necessary.

“How were none of your bones broken?” Twilight asks in a quiet shocked voice.

“Oh no, there were many fractures, believe me.” Hyrule shakes his head. “Mostly minor but it’s crazy how they were able to still be standing, let alone walking. Didn’t any of that hurt?”

Wind takes a sharp breath and has to look away from you. 

You were really good at hiding it then.

He misses the pained look on your face as he turns away and can’t see the hand you reach out to him. “Wind?”

“No.” He gulps and stand up. “This isn’t ok. You can’t do this. Say something next time, or I’ll never speak to you again.”

The second he says it, he feel childish for coming up with that threat in particular and while he wishes that there’ll never be a next time, he knows better.

Occupational hazard and all that jazz.

Your face morphs into one of sadness and you take your hand back. “Ok. Ok. I’ll be better next time.”

He supposes the threat worked after all.

[kuroos-moon]

When One Cheats 

☾ pairing: oikawa x reader

☾ request: oikawa cheating on s/o and feeling like the worst person ever afterwards cause he always feared doing this with her, but she doesn't forgive him. very angst please, i know you're really good on making your readers cry

☾ genre: angst

☾ warning/s: angst, cheating

☾ wc: 1.1k

He loves you deeply, no one understood and knew him the way you do and he could imagine spending the rest of his days beside you. That kind of love was more than enough, but he misses the thrill, the slow burn, the teasing, the new butterflies. 

It’s nothing serious, he thinks to himself every single time he smirks down at the girl that wasn’t you, holding her hand and telling her words he knew she wanted to hear. Like a trap, like he had anticipated, she falls for him, dancing into the bliss that is Oikawa Tohru’s affection. 

It doesn’t really matter right? He only ever wants her to fall for him, he has no intention whatsoever to actually like her back or actually give her himself; it was all for his ego. The seat in his heart is for you and you alone, it’s all fun and games with other girls. 

“I’ll see you after class,” you smile, head tilted up to look at him and he warmly smiles back, heart beating against his chest at the sight of your pretty eyes and sincere smile. This, this is his personal heaven on earth, his angel in human form. You are the love of his life; he knew that to the very core. 

“I love you, y/n-chan,” he chuckles, cupping your cheek before he leans down to plant a chaste kiss on your lips. “I’ll be off to practice then,” he waves at you as he backs away, and you grin at him, “do your best!” 

Of course he will, much more now that you’ve given him his daily serotonin boost with your loving smile. After his practice, he’s surprised to have his teammate call for him, “Oikawa-kun your girlfriend’s here.” He races outside the locker room only to be disappointed when it’s not you who’s standing there.

“Tohru-chan!” Oh, if it isn’t the girl who fell for him after only a week of texting and a few sweet words from him.  “Yuki-chan,” he says, taken aback before he quickly recovers with a smile, “what are you doing here? Missed me already?” 

“You haven’t been replying to my texts,” she pouts. He internally scoffs in his head. He’s actually disgusted his teammates referred to her as his girlfriend. 

“Oh, I’ve been really busy with practice,” he scratches the back of his head. 

“You don’t like me anymore, do you?” 

Tohru cockily smirks at her, approaching her slowly before tilting her chin up and teasingly leaning in. If there was a school for capturing girl’s hearts, he’s self-aware he’d be the top of the class. “Is that how you feel? Then how could I make it up to you?” He muses, the girl speechless at his closeness.  

He’s great at analyzing character, she was an easily-attached girl who was lowkey shy and could never do the first move. People, however, tend to be unpredictable, no matter how sure Tohru was she’d never do things that’d cause him demise. 

Without warning, she tiptoes and locks her lips against his, wrapping her arms around his neck. Petrified, his eyes remain wide open and he stills, unable to kiss her back as a heavy pang on his chest reminded him that this was utterly wrong. Consumed with the guilt, he comes back to his senses and places a hand on her shoulder to lightly push her off him. 

“That surprised me,” he chuckles, perfectly pretending he wasn’t panicking inside. 

“Why’d you push me off? You really don’t like me! Well I don’t want you either!”

“That’s not what your lips said,” he raises a brow, his ego slightly wounded. He wasn’t in his right mind at all when he grabs her and kisses her the way he knew would leave her knees weak. Gentle kisses turned into something more needy in her part, and the once level-headed setter slowly gave in to impulse as he backs her up against the wall.

Bodies pressed against each other, her hands running across his back, feeling his chest, his shoulders— he knew she was crazy for his body. 

Oikawa Tohru, the man who promised you the world. Not once in your years together did you doubt him or fear disloyalty. Your relationship was built around trust, and you thought it was something that neither of you would break. 

Yet, you couldn’t explain the sight before you. Your person was in the arms of another and kissing someone that wasn’t you. It made you sick, your heart was trampled with and torn to pieces. You desperately wish it was all a dream, but your eyes are wide open and it is reality; it’s cruel, but you know he’s no longer yours. 

An image of you smiling at him when he woke you up this morning flashes across his mind, and on instinct he pulls away almost immediately. It’s as if a cold bucket of water was poured down on him when he sees you standing at the entrance of the gym from the corner of his eye. 

Please, no, that’s all he could ever think; afraid to look at you and confirm that you actually saw the shameful mistake he’s committed— the thoughtless choice he still chose. 

He’s forced to look and come to you the moment your sobs reach his ears; it was the most painful thing he’s ever heard. It seems as if the world was ending the moment his eyes fall on you, your shoulders were shaking and you were falling apart before him. 

“Y/n-chan,” he softly says your name, but his voice only hurt you more as you flinch away from his attempt to touch your shoulder. “I thought you loved me,” you sob, his eyes widening at the heavy weight of your pain-filled words. 

“I- I do, you know I do, please, y/n-chan I can explain,” he moves to hold your hands.

“Thank you for all these years Tohru, I never imagined this day would come but it did. Are you happy now? Were you unhappy with me?” Your voice just keeps on breaking and he holds your hands tighter, a desperate look on his face as tears blurred his vision. 

“You are my happiness y/n, I was foolish, I never meant for this to happen I wasn’t think-

“I’ll be out of the house before you come home.” 

True to your word, he came home to an empty lifeless house, void of your presence. All your clothes were gone and so were you. He’d be a bit more hopeful he could fix it if the picture frame of the both of you on the bedside table was empty too, but your picture was there, you didn’t take it with you. 

He felt bitter as he looks at both your smiles looking back at him, you’re gone and all that’s left are finite recollections of the both of you together as he could no longer make more memories with you in this lifetime.

General Taglist [Open]: @noyasbitchh @dinablossom @haru-the-secret @strayczennies @lalisbitch @tinymidgetsstuff @animebs @astrealia @kittykitkatstrawberry @hajimesbbygrl @kellesvt @24hr7dysdizzy @arnxldss @elianetsantana @vicassa @floraraine @beanst0ck @leinnah @kageyamasgirl @deafeningart @minibobabottle   @franko-pop @moonlightaangel @throughtheinterstices @micasaessakusa @dixonsbugaboo​  ​

[t0wnspersonb]

Better Off As Lovers (Tsukishima Kei x Reader)

Word Count: 5,076

Warnings: SMUT, oral (female receiving), bad language, my shit writing

~~~~

salty4tsukki

said:

hello! i luv ur blog sm!! can i pls req a scenario (or hc if that’s easier) of tsukki and reader going from enemies to lovers? perhaps reader ended up doing tsukki a solid that saved his ass and that marked the turning point of their relationship? sfw+nsfw if that’s oki!! tysm in advanced :-)

~~~~

Here is some spice for you guys. I hope you like it, I had a lot of fun writing it lol. Tsukishima is such a fucking prick, I absolutely love it. @salty4tsukki​ I hope this was what you had wanted, also thank you so much for your support! Requests are closing tomorrow! I’m slowly but surely making my way through all of the requests and writing stuff up. I should probably be focusing on school but ya girl is avoiding responsibilities right now lmao. I hope you guys have a wonderful weekend!😚😚😚

~~~~

“You’re literally the fucking worst.” you hissed; eyes narrowed into slits. “I bet hell gave you back to earth because you’re worse than Satan himself.”

 All you got in response was a raise of a blonde eyebrow and an ignorant smirk.

 “You want to get hit? Is that what you’re asking for?” You threatened, holding your fist up for emphasis.

 You had never been more upset; in all honesty you probably wouldn’t have been this annoyed about the situation if it was someone else. 

 But because it was him, you knew that it was intentional, it wasn’t an accident as everyone else was making it seem.

 “Now, now…” Koganegawa said, stepping between the two of you. “Tsukki didn’t know that was your dessert. It was an honest mistake.”

 “That’s not an honest mistake Kanji!” You screeched. “I literally told everyone how excited I was to finally get my hands on that famous strawberry shortcake from that bakery! I got the last slice and he went and ate it!” you pointed at the tall blonde accusingly; who’s smirk was growing wider and wider as you wailed about the unfairness of it all.

 “Can’t you just go get another one?” Kyoutani huffed, rolling his eyes from his spot on the floor.

 “They’re famous for a reason Kentarou! I had to get up super early to stand in line! And even then, the line was super long! I waited for hours! You think I’m going to do that again!?” You were all but hysterical now.

 You might have already been having a rough day though, and your missing cake was the cherry on top to it all.

 The soft huff of a laugh caused you to whirl around, your tiny fists coming up to hit Tsukishima on his chest repeatedly.

 “You’re the fucking worst!” you huffed out, frustrated tears springing to your eyes. The tall blonde was full on laughing at you now, much to your embarrassment and anger.

 You couldn’t lie, it was a tad bit irrational to get so upset over a missing slice of cake. But it was a long sucky day, you were looking forward to that delicious morsel of strawberry goodness after practice, and it wasn’t fucking there.

 “You’re so weak,” Tsukishima mused, easily grasping your hands in his large ones, preventing you from hitting him further.

 Despite his rude words, his grip was surprisingly gentle. 

 You still ripped your hands away from his in anger. 

 “Don’t touch me, you thief.” You growled, cradling your hands against your chest, eyes glaring into the tall male.

 “You’re so annoying. I already apologized.” Tsukishima said, stretching his arms above his head. 

 “An apology won’t bring back my cake!” You snapped, grabbing your stuff from the floor. “You’re the worst Tsukishima. Let’s go already, Kentarou.” You huffed.

 The said male rolled his eyes before saying goodbye to his teammates, following you out of the gym.

 You were still fuming quietly as you two walked home together.

 Funnily enough, you had developed a close friendship with the small male, which resulted in him walking you home since he lived close by. 

 “I hate him.” You whined, tugging at the bottom of Kyoutani’s team jacket.

 He swatted your hand away, causing you to whine again, reaching for him once more, he sighed in irritation but let you hold onto his jacket this time.

 “You guys just need to fuck already.” He said.

 You stopped walking; causing Kyoutani to be yanked back since you were holding onto his jacket. 

 “What the fuck Y/n?” He growled.

 “I would never in a million years have sex with someone like him.” You said, face twisting in disgust.

 Kyoutani had definitely lost his mind with that comment. Tsukishima was your enemy, your opposite half, the worst person that you have ever met, there was just no way.

 “Are you serious?” He asked deadpanned. “It’s so disgustingly obvious you two like each other.” 

 You rolled your eyes at him, releasing his jacket from your grasp as you guys continued walking. “You’re blind Kentarou, we hate each other.”

 “I think you’re the one who’s blind Y/n. I’ll see you tomorrow for morning practice.” he said waving goodbye to you as you entered your home.

 The rest of your night was plagued with thoughts of Tsukishima, leaving you with a bitter taste in your mouth despite the fact that you had brushed your teeth.

 There was no way that Tsukishima liked you, nor you him. You did find him incredibly attractive, but who wouldn’t? He was tall and muscular, incredibly intelligent, and he was a good volleyball player. 

 Of course, people would find him attractive, but his personality was anything but, to you at least.

 Your first ever interaction with him was entirely unpleasant, his mocking attitude and sarcastic comments left you with the worst impression of him, and it resulted in how you felt about him now.

 But then… What did Kyoutani mean about you being blind?

 You screamed loudly into your pillow.

 ****

 “You look terrible.” Tsukishima raised his eyebrow at you, taking in your disheveled form.

 “I didn’t get much sleep last night.” You muttered, rubbing at your eyes tiredly. 

 Tsukishima was actually quiet for once, somehow you had missed the flash of concern that shot through his eyes.

 That didn’t go unnoticed by Kyoutani, who rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath how dense both of you were.

 Practice ran smoothly, there surprisingly wasn’t any sarcastic comments directed at you from Tsukishima. For the most part, he left you alone today, much to your relief.

 Now you were currently in one of the history classes you were a TA in. Between managing a volleyball team, and being a teaching assistant, it was no wonder you were always stressed out.

 Funnily enough, Tsukishima was one of the students in that class. 

 “We’re going to hand back your midterm essays now.” The professor announced. You grabbed the papers from your folder and started walking around the class handing them back to the nervous students.

 Your brows furrowed as you had realized that you only held three more papers in your hand, you hadn’t even given Tsukishima’s - oh. Your eyes widened slightly as you looked over at the tall male, he looked irritated, his eyes finding yours, there was a slight shake to his head.

 He had never turned in the essay. 

 That’s right, the essay was due around the same time that volleyball practices were incredibly strenuous in preparation for some important matches.

 But the midterm essay counted as a large portion of the grade, which meant that if Tsukishima received a zero, then he would fail the class, which meant that he wouldn’t be allowed to play volleyball any -

 “I seemed to have made a mistake Professor.” You said. “I think I lost Tsukishima’s paper…”

 What were you doing?

 Shit, you could get in big trouble for this so why were you doing this?

 “It’s not like you to be scatterbrained like this Y/n.” the Professor shook his head. “I swear you take on too many tasks, between this and being a team manager… Tsukishima, do you mind turning in the paper again to Y/n? Let us say… by the end of the day?”

 “It’s no problem sir.” Tsukishima said quietly, eyes glancing over to you as you finished handing out the last of the essays.

 “I’m sorry Tsukishima, I hope you can forgive me.” You said sweetly, bowing at him slightly.

 What the fuck?

 What the actual fuck were you doing?

 Tsukishima was taken back by your tone and your show of respect towards him, that was new. 

 That was… shit was he blushing? He ignored the creeping heat in his face and the slightly quicker thump of his heart. He pushed his glasses up slightly. “It’s not a problem.” he said quietly.

 You nodded at him once more as you made your way back towards the front of the room, ignoring the rising blush in your own face and the racing of your own heart. You got lucky that the professor really took a liking to you as his TA, you could get away with murder when it came to this class.

 Tsukishima was incredibly lucky as well, he was the top student in this class, never missed any assignments, always participated in class, so of course the professor was going to be more lenient with him.

 No one would have ever guessed that he had never turned in his midterm, except you.

 That was something that you didn’t understand, why would you help him out? 

 It was because he was just part of your team, right? You were doing this because you wanted your team to succeed right? He was one of the best players you had, so if you lost him that would hurt the team… that was why, right?

 Or maybe… maybe Kyoutani was right.

 Maybe, just maybe, by chance you actually did harbor a small attraction to the tall blonde.

 ****

 The rest of the day was seemingly uneventful, and you found yourself wrapping up the evening volleyball practice.

 “Hey.” an all too familiar voice called out, a sudden shadow being cast over your small form as you began picking up the volleyballs on the floor.

 You glanced up to see Tsukishima looking down at you, curiosity clear in his gold eyes.

 “What is it?” You asked, ignoring the quickening of your heart. What was wrong with you?

 “Why did you do that?” he asked, beginning to pick up the balls.

 “What do you mean?” You sighed tiredly, you just wanted to go home. You had no energy left in your body to argue with the snarky male before you.

 “You knew that I didn’t turn in the paper… why did you lie to the professor like that?” He asked quietly.

 “Well…” your eyes slid over to him before looking down at the ball in your hands. “I knew that the professor would cut you some slack since you are one of his favorite students… plus… it would be bad if you got a zero, right? You would’ve failed the class…” You trailed off, your eyes glancing back up at him, taking notice to the small smirk that began to cover his lips.

 “- and we can’t afford to lose one of our players! You’re tall and stupid but you’re a decent player so that’s why I did it! I didn’t want to hurt the team just because you were being stupid and forgetful!” You said, voice annoyed as you all but slammed the volleyball into his arms. “Hurry up and put those away, I want to go home.” you huffed, stalking away.

 You hadn’t noticed the small smile that overtook his face as he watched you walk away.

 “Are you ready to go?” You asked once you guys had finished cleaning up, Kyoutani nodded, grabbing his bag from the floor.

 “Hold on.” a hand grabbed the back of your jacket, yanking you back into a warm and broad chest.

 You blinked up to see Tsukishima peering down at you, eyebrows raised. 

 You could feel your face burn at his proximity and as you stumbled away from him. 

 “W-What is it now?” You stuttered out.

 “Here. Professor said to give it to you by the end of the day. I just had to reprint it out.” he said, handing you his midterm.

 Your eyebrows shot up. “Wait, you actually did the assignment?”

 “It was already done, I just forgot to submit it.” he said, shrugging.

 “And I thought you were just lazy and didn’t do it at all.” You said in awe, eyes skimming through the papers.

 “Don’t put me in with the likes of you.” he snorted, eyes rolling, although there was an unseen fondness swimming within those golden orbs, unseen to you at least. It was entirely apparent to Kyoutani who seemed to have a larger scowl on his face.

 “Shut up stupid! I’m going to grade your paper harshly now!” you hissed, glaring at him.

 “You can try,” he drawled out. “But I did the assignment perfectly. I shouldn’t get anything less than an A.”

 “We’ll see.” you snapped.

 ****

 “Stupid Tsukishima. Does he have to be perfect at everything?” You grumbled to yourself as you finished grading his paper.

 He was right.

 He did the assignment perfectly.

 You shouldn’t have said anything to the professor, especially if he was going to be so smug about it.

 Why was he so infuriating? 

 You could see the flash of his smirk behind your lids when you blinked, it caused your heart to race, your fist to clench tightly together. You just wanted to slap that stupid smirk off of his stupid gorgeous face and -

 Damn it.

 It seemed like recently your thoughts were completely consumed by him. 

 “Speak of the devil.” You muttered to yourself when you noticed who was calling you.

 “What do you want?” You hissed.

 “Oh, good you are awake.” His rang smoothly through the speaker.

 “Yeah because I stayed up late to grade your midterm, so I didn’t have to worry about it over the weekend.” You huffed, sitting back in your chair.

 “Well what’s the verdict?” he asked smugly. 

 You could feel your nostrils flaring in anger at his tone. “You got an A. Which is surprising to me since you’re the biggest moron that I know.” 

 “I already told you not to lump into the same category as you.” 

 “I’m hanging up now.” you announced, your blood boiling at his comment.

 “Wait. Go open your door.” he demanded.

 You frowned. “Why would I do that?”

 “Just do it and hurry up.” you could all but see his eyes rolling.

 You huffed angrily, stalking over to your front door, and yanking it open to reveal the blonde male smirking at you.

 You could feel your brows furrow as you tried to register what was happening.

 Tsukishima, your enemy, was standing at the front of your home, cladded in his team jacket and joggers, and he was holding a bag.

 “Took you long enough.” he said, removing the phone from his ear and stepping past you into your home.

 He was already removing his shoes and placing them on the shoe rack near your front door, heading towards your kitchen.

 “Are you just going to stand there all night?” he called out, never looking back.

 That comment snapped you out of your confusion, you quietly closed the door, following after the blonde that was beginning to make tea like he was in his own home and not someone else's.

 “What are you doing?” You asked quietly, eyes following his every movement. 

 “Just be quiet and sit down.” he said simply, and for some reason… you actually listened.

 You wracked your brain for all the reasons as to why Tsukishima was in your home this late at night, using your kitchen.

 You snapped back to reality when he placed a plate and a mug in front of you. 

 Your eyebrows raised slowly, but you couldn’t help the twinkle in your eyes as you gazed at the treat before you.

 A slice of cake, but the strawberry shortcake from that bakery to be exact. The sweetness of the strawberries and cream, along with the earthy scent of the tea, caused a delicious warmth to swell up in your body.

 “How did you -”

 “It’s a thank you.” he cut you off, pulling up a chair across from you, tea and cake sitting in front of him. “For helping me out with the paper.”

 You couldn’t help the smile that began to stretch across your lips, Tsukishima seemed shy almost, embarrassed maybe? Whatever it was, it was a pleasant change from his usual scowl and smirk.

 “Did you wait long?” you asked quietly, carefully cutting into the cake. “They aren’t even open at this hour…”

 “No, the line wasn’t too bad, I went after practice finished.” he said, glancing over at you. It was a partial lie, Tsukishima did wait a long time, but he did go after practice had finished.

 “Why did you wait this long to come over then?” you asked, sighing in pleasure as you took a bite.

 There was a reason why this bakery was so famous for their strawberry shortcake, it was the best cake you had ever had.

 “I thought you might’ve been too busy in the evening, since you promised coach you would hand in those data forms tomorrow… and the in class activity we did today… you said you would grade tonight and get it back to us Monday…” he trailed off quietly, cutting into his slice.

 You blinked at him, the thumping in your heart increasing.

 Since when was he so observant with you?

 “Since always. You’ve just never noticed.” he said, gold eyes boring into your own.

 You could feel your face heating up, shit, did you really ponder that aloud?

 What was this feeling bubbling up in your gut? It burned and turned pleasantly the longer you stared at him.

 A sudden shyness washed over you as you broke eye contact, eyes casting back down to the cup of tea that was now resting between your hands.

 “O-Oh.” 

 It was silent again, it wasn’t awkward, but there was definitely something lingering heavily in the air.

 You just couldn’t place your finger on it.

 “You have something…” Tsukishima began to say, suddenly reaching over, his strong fingers gently grasped your chin, tilting it up, thumb beginning to brush at the corner of your lips.

 Without even thinking about it, your tongue darted out, swiping across his thumb, tasting the saltiness of his skin and the sweetness of the cream that had lingered at the corner of your mouth.

 Tsukishima’s eyes darkened considerably; air rushing out of his nose as he exhaled deeply. His thumb rubbing against your lower lip. 

 Your eyes glazed over, lips parting slightly, inviting him entrance to your mouth. Tsukishima’s thumb pushed past your lips, resting on your tongue. Your eyes fluttered shut, your tongue gently running along the pad of his thumb.

 You could feel the blood roaring in your ears, your stomach twisting in arousal.

 “Fuck.” he whispered, the sound of a chair being pushed back, his thumb leaving the wetness of your mouth.

 It all happened so fast, by the time you had opened your eyes Tsukishima was hauling you out of your chair and up on the counter. His large hand grasped your face firmly before slamming his lips against yours.

 You gasped, allowing his tongue to snake his way in, exploring every inch of your wet cavern.

 You couldn’t help the moan that tore through your throat, your arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders, fingers sliding into the blonde locks at the back of his head, your legs wrapping around his hips.

 Fuck, you couldn’t get enough of this. He was everywhere, warm and solid against your body; all you could smell was him, all you could taste was him and fuck did he taste good. You could still taste the sweetness of cream on his tongue, the tartness of the strawberries, and him.

 It was intoxicating.

 You were drowning in everything that was Tsukishima and fuck did you like it. The way his big hands gripped at your face, your waist, pulling you closer, kissing you deeper, it was too much.

 But it also wasn’t enough.

 “What are you - ahh - what are you doing?” you whimpered out, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he trailed his hot lips against your throat, sucking and biting at every inch of it.

 “What do you think I’m doing you idiot?” he breathed against the shell of your ear. He grinded his hips against yours causing the loud moan to escape your lips, he was hard against you.

 “I don’t…” you whined softly as he grabbed your hips, pressing you tightly against his crotch, grinding against you sinfully. “I don’t understand… Tsukki… Kei.” you whined again, hips bucking up on their own, aching for more friction.

 Fuck you were so wet, so hot and bothered, you needed him to touch you more.

 “Fuck.” he hissed out, eyes squeezing tightly together as you whined out his name. “Fuck… you’re so infuriating. You still don’t get it do you?” he growled out, nipping at your lobe as his ragged breathing increased. 

 You couldn’t muster up any words, all that escaped your lips was a drawn-out moan as one of his hands reached up and massaged one of your breasts harshly. 

 “I like you, Y/n. I’ve liked you since the very beginning. But you never… fuck…” he hissed as you slipped a hand under his shirt, nails dragging against his smooth skin. You could feel the muscles of his stomach flexing beneath your touch, the pace of his hips increasing against yours.

 “You never noticed.” he finally growled out, reaching up and yanking your shirt off your body. “The only time you ever paid attention to me was when I made you mad, you simple minded woman. It’s so easy to get you riled up…” he kissed you harshly now, teeth knocking together before he bit into your lip harshly, causing your nails to dig further into his chest.

 “But then in class when you lied straight-faced to the professor… and then when you looked at me with that sweet expression, and those wide eyes… I couldn’t help but wonder what other kinds of faces you can make for me.” he finished quietly. His breathing was labored, and his lips were swollen but the intensity of his gaze caused your body to squirm.

 “What do you say?” he asked, his voice deep and rough, his grip on you was still tight, but his hips had stilled, he was pulled back slightly from you, allowing you space to breathe.

 “Please.” You whimpered out, tears springing up in your eyes, you were too riled up now, body too hot and aching for release.

 You needed him. You needed Tsukishima to touch you more, you needed him to whisper filth into your ear, you needed to feel his skin sliding against yours, and most of all, you needed him be buried deep inside of you.

 “I need to hear you say it Y/n.” He grasped your jaw, angling your face up to his as he stared down at you. “Say it.”

 You could feel your lower lip quivering, you were aching for it, aching for him. “Kei please! Just - just fuck me already!” you wailed. “What are you waiting for!? Just fuck m-” he yanked you off of the counter, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist as he carried you to your couch, dropping you down haphazardly before his hands were everywhere, ripping the clothes off your body until you were completely bare.

 He stared shamelessly at your nakedness, eyes running over every curve of your body. His hands rested on your bent needs, pulling them open and staring openly at your glistening cunt.

 “Don’t look.” you whimpered, moving one of your hands to cover yourself up. He easily knocked your hand away.

 “Don’t hide yourself from me.” he said as he moved to remove the rest of his clothing. 

 Tsukishima was beautiful, long, and lean, his muscular frame exposed to your greedy eyes as you scanned his body.

 Your lips trembled at the sight of his stiff member, leaking precum and standing painfully tall.

 He grasped his cock lazily, his hand easily sliding up and down his shaft as he gazed down at you. His other hand reached down to gather the obscene amount of wetness that was gathering between your legs.

 “You’re soaked,” he moaned, eyes flashing dangerously. “You want me to fuck you? Or do you want me to taste you?”

 You could feel your mouth run dry at his questions.

 Tsukishima’s eyes narrowed slightly, his large hand coming down to swat at your thigh. You gasped the stinging sensation, your arousal spiking dramatically.

 “Answer me.” he demanded.

 Your lips trembled, eyes glazing over with unshed tears, you were so pent up, you needed something, anything that would provide you with some kind of release. 

 It was only for a moment, but there was a flash of gentleness, the hand that had swatted at your thigh rubbed at the skin tenderly. 

 “You’re so beautiful.” he said quietly, and then he was moving to situate himself between your legs, grasping at your thighs before his head ducked down and his hot tongue licked a strip up your soaked slit until it rested on your clit.

 You moaned loudly; your head being thrown back as your body trembled with pleasure.

 His tongue lapped lazily against you, flickering up and down against that swollen bundle of nerves, occasionally dipping further down, sliding into your entrance, tasting you completely before sliding back up.

 It didn’t take long for you to get close to your orgasm. Your body was taut, aching for release. It was too much almost; your fingers tangled tightly in his hair, you couldn’t tell if you were pushing him away or pulling him closer.

 All you knew was that he was giving you everything right now. Tsukishima pulled your clit into his mouth now, sucking hard, his front teeth gently brushing against it.

 Your legs were tense, thighs quacking as you approached your release, the quiet room was filled with your drawn out moans and pants, wet slurping noises escaping your lower half as Tsukishima all but devoured your cunt completely.

You came with a cry, body convulsing against the cushions of the couch, thighs trying to close together, squeezing tightly against Tsukishima’s head. You whimpered brokenly as you tried to wiggle yourself away from the blonde that was still sucking at your clit, but his grip was tight, refusing to let you go, forcing your over sensitive cunt to produce another orgasm.

 In the midst of it all, he yanked himself away, lining his stiff cock against your swollen entrance and then snapping his hips forward, sheathing himself inside of you completely.

 A loud cry tore through your lips, you were still in the middle of your orgasm when he entered, your slick gushing out around him and spilling onto the cushions below.

 “Are you gonna cum again?” he breathed watching you in awe as you struggled to adapt to his size.

 “Fuck you are.” he moaned, your tight walls fluttering around him as your third one ripped through your body. “I can’t believe you came again just from me entering you.” he breathed out, hands resting on your hips.

 Tsukishima gave you no time to adjust, his hips snapping forward harshly as he set a brutal pace.

 You could feel your eyes rolling into the back of your head, your fingers gripping at the couch, needing something, anything to hold on to.

 His cock rubbed against your walls perfectly, your body having no time to keep up with his movement, the stretch burned, the pleasure toe curling. Your legs were wrapped around his waist, pulling him in deeper, keeping him closer.

 Suddenly your world shifted, Tsukishima hauled your body up, forcing you to sit on top of his thick member. You cried out loudly, this new position caused his cock to rub up inside of you at a new angle.

 He never stopped, his large hands gripped at your hips now, forcing you up and down as you rode him, his hips snapping up to meet the downwards roll of your hips.

 All you could do was grip at his broad shoulders weakly, struggling to keep up with his pace, struggling to adjust to the new depth that he reached within you.

 But you couldn’t. You could hardly breathe, you couldn’t think of anything except for Tsukishima and the pleasure he was giving you.

 “Look at you.” he groaned, eyes never leaving your face. “You make the sweetest faces when I’m inside of you.”

 “Kei…” You sobbed. “Please.”

 You weren’t sure what you were asking for at this point, the pleasure was mind numbing, the room was filled with sounds of your moans and his grunts, the wet squelching noises of your cunt as it was being stuffed over and over again was something that might’ve embarrassed you if you had the time to even think about it. 

 But you didn’t, all you could think about was unraveling again, all you could think about Tsukishima Kei. Your enemy, the most annoying man you had ever met, but he was also the most intelligent man you had ever met, the most beautiful man you had ever met, and now he was the only man that you ever wanted to receive pleasure from. 

 You came again with a loud sob, gushing around him, dripping onto his upper thighs, body trembling against his as you collapsed on top of his chest.

 He groaned your name loudly, thrusting up sharply into your cunt once more before spilling himself into your hot center. 

 It felt like time had stopped around you as you struggled to catch your breath. You weren’t sure how long it was that you guys stayed like this.

 But you have never been more tired, more comfortable in your entire life than right now.

 You could feel your eyes drooping down, your face buried into the crook of his neck, his long fingers gently tracing delicate patterns into the skin of your back.

 Tsukishima shifted, easily picking you up, your legs wrapped around his waist, his member still buried deep inside of you. You vaguely remember answering his question about where the bathroom was and soon you found yourself perched up on the bathroom counter. 

 You could feel his cum slowly leaking out of your swollen cunt, trickling down your leg as he gently cleaned you up. You didn’t even remember how you ended up in your bed, but now you were curled up against the tall blonde, wrapped up in the security of his arms as he rubbed your back gently.

 “I still hate you Kei.” you mumbled against his chest, sighing softly before pressing your lips into his smooth skin.

 “I know.” he smirked against your hair, pressing a gentle kiss on the crown of your head. “Go to sleep. We’ll go and get breakfast tomorrow.”

 Okay maybe you didn’t hate him, but he was still infuriating to you. 

[orionwhispers]

Bravado // Tommy Shelby Imagine

(A/N - its been a long ass time and i wanted to ease myself back into writing but this ended up being long and also super super angsty. sorry that this illness imagine came during covid idk whats going on with my imagination lol. love you guys SO much thank you for always being there. reblogs, comments and likes mean everything to me.)

trigger warnings - LOTS of angst. fluff. implied smut. my hc that tommy has a fear of illness, bad descriptions of hospitals. 

He knew something wasn’t right the minute his car pulled into the driveway and you weren’t waiting for him under the great concrete arch, with that smile on your face that made his knees buckle and heart race like he was a love struck teenager.

You were always there as soon as he came home. Barefoot in a broderie dress in the summer with tousled hair and baby pink toenails. Wrapped in a hand knit blanket with fire flushed cheeks and woollen socks in the winter - even running across the gravel and into his arms in the middle of a storm, the ice cold rain whipping across both of your faces as you kissed under the light of the moon.

No matter how shit his day or week or month was, no matter what stained his hands or darkened his heart, no matter what lay heavy and hard deep in his gut, seeing you made everything vanish in the night air like wisps of smoke. You made everything worth it.

He refused to give into fear, he wasn’t that kind of man, so he swallowed all of the nagging thoughts and apprehensions as he came up to the dark foggy windows and the iron cast door. It felt strange turning his key in the lock without the weight of you in his arms or the sticky peach kisses you left down his jaw and neck, the smell of the vanilla in your hair and lavender on your skin.

The second thing that sent a jolt of white hot electricity down his spine was Mary, watching him anxiously and wringing her hands in the hallway. Usually, she was calm and collected, taking his jacket and leather travel bag with her signature placid smile and gentle fingers. Usually she would return to the kitchen and finish up whatever she was making - a hearty roast lamb with rosemary and garlic and glazed potatoes or a pheasant pie with honeyed carrots, always followed by a three layer chocolate ganache cake that was so thick and rich you practically had to saw through the sponge. She would always have dinner piping hot and dripping with gravy by the time the two of you returned downstairs, no matter how many hours it took for you to get... reacquainted.

Now she looked sheepish and pale, her skin almost translucent under the syrupy yellow lights. There was something about the way she stood, as still as a wraith, that made his blood run cold.

“Mary. Where is she?”

“Mr Shelby, I - ” Her voice was strained and hesitant, like a slowly fraying rope.

“Where is my wife?”

She moved forward, creases forming around her eyes. “We tried ringing you in Liverpool but the hotel said that you had already left, so we...”

“You rang me? Why? What’s happened?” He couldn’t hold back the desperation in his voice, and it lingered and festered around them both like a poisonous gas.

“Mrs Shelby came down with something a few days ago, we thought that it was just a common cold but unfortunately she seems to be getting worse.”

He tore upstairs before he could even think, his shoes leaving perfect muddy footprints on the cream carpet. He almost slipped at the top, and he lurched forward, his hands reaching out and holding onto the portrait hanging above the stairs for stability.

It was the oil of the two of you. A soft, personal picture that revealed more than he ever possibly could. The love in your gazes, the hint of a soft, drunk smile on the dangerous gangsters face as you leaned into him, melting into him like butter, him holding onto you as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. It was his favourite photo, one that always washed a sense of calmness over him, a reminder of the woman that he loved and the way he felt around you. But now he felt as if was riding out a terrible storm.

He lived his life with no fear, he was capable and practical and used to the sound of bullets and the copper sweet smell of blood. There was really only one thing, one terrible thing that he couldn’t control, and that was what drove him crazy.

Sickness.

It gnawed at his insides like a rabid dog, clawed under his skin and settled behind his ribs. Losing someone he loved was like ripping out a piece of his heart straight from his chest, and he knew better than anyone what it was like to lose somebody to a violent, quick death - the pull of a trigger or the smack of a fist. At least in those moments he could lock them away in his mind, he could leap in front of a bullet or crack the neck of any man who dared to get too close to you, but there was almost nothing he could do to stop sickness, and the devastation it caused.

When you first met him it had been a surprise, almost amusing, that this powerful God of a man had these small little quirks. His house was always sparkling clean and smelling of Lysol, his fruit bowls were filled with citrus fruits and round, plump blueberries. He always made sure you were wrapped up warm in the winter, always placing his coat around your shoulders and bringing an extra pair of gloves in case you forgot yours. It was adorable, the way he took care of you,

It wasn’t till a little bit later when you learnt of those he had lost. His mother and his childhood sweetheart taken away from him much too soon. It broke your heart when he told you late one night of the sallow tint of their skin and the way he could almost see them vanishing from earth, the way that illness had moulded and changed those he loved the most.

You understood.

Your best friends older sister had died of tuberculosis when you were young. The elderly woman across the street from your first flat had passed away from a bout of horrendous smallpox. Your brother lost his first child to pneumonia. Times were changing but the fear of disease was ever present. Medicine was improving and so was knowledge, but still there remained a huge, dark cloud of what could happen, one that always hung around your husbands head.

——————————————-

All Tommy could think was the worst as he ran through the landing. His heart was in his ears and his bones felt loose, like the sweet liquorice the two of you would share at the pictures. He came to a stop by the bedroom door, tentatively pressing his palm onto the wood and ever so slightly pushing it open, listening to the gentle creak it made.

The room was warm. The lace curtains were pulled shut, and your favourite lavender candles were flickering on your vanity, casting syrupy shadows against the wall. He exhaled loudly as he saw you, bundled up under a mountain of satin sheets and hand crocheted blankets, your hair splayed across the pillows.

He moved to your bedside, pretending not to notice the large, untouched jug of water and the tissue box next to you, hoping and silently praying that you weren’t sick - just asleep and waiting for him, ready to wrap your arms around his neck.

You were silent, your lips parting every so often as you breathed, your chest rising and falling. He reached out gently, as though he was picking up shards of glass, and brushed his fingers against your cheek. Your forehead was beading with sweat, your cheeks flushed, and yet your skin was ice cold to the touch. He recoiled quickly, his heart dropping like a weight into his gut, and he inhaled a shaky, deep breath.

He saw something curled up beside your hands, a fluffy white cloud with sparkling emerald green eyes trained on him. Despite everything, he smiled. He thought of your birthday - of strawberry cheesecake and champagne, and surprising you with a ribbon wrapped little kitten as you woke up. He thought of that day often. How you smiled and leapt onto him with tears in your eyes, his whole world blissfully quiet as he spent the day in bed with you and your new best friend.

He would have preferred a big dog, one with sharp teeth and a menacing gaze to ward of visitors whilst he was away. But you were drawn to the tiny, malnourished runt of the litter who was scared of his own shadow. A kitten no bigger than the size of his clenched fist. A little white hairball who only ate and drank from fine pink saucers. A cat that had a very frustrating habit of crawling in the bedroom right as Tommy’s hand was up your skirt and his lips on the sweet spot of your neck, the tiny thing mewling and crying until you picked him up and nuzzled him into your chest.

He was a horse lover through and through, and never saw himself having time for any other pets. But in the summer when you saw the litter from one of John’s barn cats and fell in love with the sweet baby who mewled and cried and crawled right into your lap - he knew that he would give you anything and everything you wanted.

Including a cat who refused to accept that Tommy was the man of the house.

“Hello, boy.” He said, leaning over to scratch Comet under the chin, using a voice he only reserved for the two of you. “Have you been looking after my girl whilst I’ve been gone?”The cat meowed loudly in reply, pressing his head into Tommy’s palm but not moving from his spot beside you.

Tommy suddenly felt you shift under him and his heart lurched into his throat. He turned to face you, cupping the side of your clammy face as your eyelids fluttered open, blinking under the candlelight. A rush of red hot heat built up in his belly as you registered him, that angelic smile growing on your face, your tired eyes glimmering with recognition of the man you loved.

“Tommy?”

“Hi, Princess.”

You smiled sadly. “You’ve been gone for weeks - I missed you.”

He felt his brows crease as he rubbed along your jawline softly, trying to stop you from falling back asleep. He felt panic in his throat as sour as vomit, and he tried to bite back the nagging feeling that something was very wrong.

“No, sweetheart, I’m early. It’s only Thursday. I left on Monday.”

“Oh.” You said softly, your voice as gentle as the breeze rustling through the trees outside. “Well let me welcome you back properly - let me make you a lemon drizzle or a...” You lifted your head from the pillow and shuffled under your blanket, but he pressed his hands against your shoulder and held you down.

“No. You’re staying right here.”

“But - ”

“No.”

“Hmm. Don’t leave me, Tommy.”

“Never.” He said, his tone firm and cast like stone. He stroked your hair softly as your breathing slowed, but it didn’t nothing to quell the hard thump of his heart in his chest.

——————————-

Tommy left the room as quietly as he could after you had fallen asleep in his arms. He hadn’t wanted to move, not when you were pressed against his chest, looking ethereal but vacant, sweat beading under your brow and your face lacking colour. He wanted to stay with you, curled up by his side, his fingers laced through yours, the sound of your heart thumping in his ears.

But he was a man of action, and seeing you there - your lips cracked and dry, shudders passing through your body and goosebumps raised over your skin - he couldn’t fight the fiery urge to do everything in his power to make you feel alright again.

He found Mary waiting outside the door, chewing on the skin of her lips and swaying on the balls of her feet in anticipation. He grabbed her by the arm, harder than he meant to and something he would apologise for later, and pulled her downstairs, determined to let you rest whilst he got some answers. As soon as they reached the drawing room he spun her around, clenching his jaw and pointing a finger at the anxious maid.

“Where the fuck is the doctor? Why isn’t he here?”

“Mr Shelby.” She said, stepping forward calmly. “We phoned Doctor Moore and he came on Tuesday to see her.”

“Tuesday?” He seethed. “My wife has been ill since Tuesday and no one called me?”

Mary raised her hands in defeat, making it clear that the decision wasn’t hers to make. “He said it was nothing of concern . He gave her some antibiotics and told her to rest. She asked us herself not to call you, she knows how you.. worry.”

He ignored her sugar coated attempt to quell his anger, but if anything it made his vision darken. “When it’s my wife, It is always my concern.”

“Mr Shelby, we were just doing what we were told. As soon as we noticed she wasn’t getting better we phoned the surgery again, but Doctor Thomas was out for the day and said he didn’t think it was necessary to come round again, so we -”

“I don’t give a fuck. My wife is the number one priority. Ring every doctor in England if you have to, get somebody out here now to see my wife.”

He stormed away, anger pulsating through his veins, but he stopped suddenly, and threw out over his shoulder:

“And call Doctor Moore’s ’office. Tell him to expect a visit from the blinders soon.”

———————————————————

Once, when you were first dating, you found Tommy at the door to your flat at midnight, with scraped knuckles and blood dripping from his nose. You let him in, cleaned him up and sat with him in the bath until his skin was clear and his breathing was even. He knew that night, as you were pressed against his chest and his lips were pressed to your scalp that he was truly, madly and completely in love with you.

He remembered waking up the next morning, love drunk and blissful, and finding the bed beside him empty. He found you in the kitchen, wincing slightly and pressing a hot water bottle to your belly as you buttered a few pieces of toast. He rushed to your side with eyes as wide as saucers, concern lacing the features that were usually ice cold and hard as stone. You were completely baffled as he held you at arms length, his bright cerulean eyes trailing up and down your body for any signs of injury he might have missed. You were bewildered at the sight of the powerful man practically on his knees as he made sure you were alright, and you bit back a giggle as his warm palms spread over your abdomen.

“What is it? Whats wrong?”

“Tommy. Sweetheart.” You said softly, bringing his gaze level to yours. “It’s just - you know - that time of the month.”

He brushed off your embarrassment and ran his fingers through your hair, pressing a uncharacteristically gentle kiss to your forehead, sending a swarm of butterflies around the pain in your stomach.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, half ready to run down to the corner shop and buy any amount of painkillers or chocolate bars or your favourite lavender tea that you might need; not caring who saw the seemingly terrifying gang leader in the street with an armful of strawberry laces and salt water fudges.

You smiled like the summer sun and he melted, pulling you close as you whispered in the shell of his ear that you only needed him, and that was all you ever needed.

That was the first time you fully saw the extent of Tommy’s fear, but it definitely wasn’t the last. He knew he wanted you forever and always, and it took only six months of neck kisses and pillow talk, red hot jealousy and possessive hands across your skin and dancing in the rain and falling asleep under the pale yellow moon for him to put a ring on your finger. You were both consumed by your love, as though it was the only thing that mattered, it was insatiable and powerful - the wonderful mix of the devil and his sweet little angel.

And with that, came the good and the bad.

Like when you got food poisoning after Arthur cooked you a Sunday lunch to cheer you up whilst Tommy was gone. He came home to you retching over the toilet bowl with Mary holding back your hair, and swore that he would kill his brother with his own hands. Or when you slipped on ice and broke your arm while out with friends in London, and Tommy went ballistic and tried to ban you from ever leaving the house. It was just in his nature, how he always made sure you walked on the side furthest from the road, kept an arm slung around you whenever you were together, kept his eyes alert and vigilant no matter where you were - always looking out for his girl.

But he had never been like this.

———————————————————-

You were falling in and out of sleep. Waking up drowsy and heavy headed, squinting under bright lights, an ache in your skull and a burning in your throat. Every so often you felt a pinch in your upper arm, a squeeze on your palm, a kiss on your forehead - but you always drifted back into unconsciousness.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you woke up. The room was dark and you could hear the wind howling and whipping rain across the windows. You felt all too hot and all too cold at the same time, and the bed was damp with sweat. You struggled and tried to sit up, your head swaying and feeling as heavy as one of Tommy’s marble statues; as if you had been carved up and moulded. You could hear voices out in the hall, and unsteadily got to your feet, moving towards the noises.

“Pneumonia?” You heard through the thick wooden door, instantly recognising your husbands voice. “That’s impossible.”

“Sir...”

“Fucking. Impossible.” You knew his teeth were clenched.

The other man cleared his throat.“I know that it’s hard to hear, Mr Shelby, but your wife is very sick.”

“Just...” You felt your heart flutter and clench in your chest as the sound of his broken words, could practically feel his desperation and you wanted nothing more than to hold him. “Just tell me how to make her better.”

The second man spoke again, his voice softening and lowering, something you knew Tommy would hate. “Mr Shelby, the first round of antibiotics didn’t work and that means that it’s time for something stronger. Usually I would suggest the Birmingham hospital but I don’t think it’s equipped for...” He paused, trying to think over his words carefully. He wanted to convey the severity of the situation but also didn’t want to risk getting a bullet in his head from your very protective husband. “...This kind of reaction. I recommend we send her down to London for extra testing.”

“London? That’ll take two fucking hours. How the fuck can you recommend letting my wife travel that far? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“I’m my opinion this is the wisest choice to make, but unfortunately that could mean your wife might get worse before she gets better.”

“Worse than she already is? That’s not an option.”

The man you assumed was the doctor was insistent, trying his best to portray the severity of the situation but failing as your hardheaded husband had already come to a decision.

“I’ll look after her here. She’s safest with me.”

Once Tommy had spoken that was the final result, and the doctor slinked away into the darkness and shook his head. You remained peering from behind the door, your tongue between your teeth and your heart hammering.

Tommy took one look at you and frowned, scooping you in his arms like a baby despite your protests. He ignored you, acting playfully and cheerful but you could feel his heated skin and the see flare of his nostrils. You wanted to help him but didn’t know how, and let him tuck you under the covers once again. He kissed your crown and stroked your hair and you wanted to speak but no words would leave your mouth.

“You stay there this time. You know I have no problem with tying you to the bed.”

You rolled your eyes as he left, and his clenched fists and tightened shoulders told you all you needed to know.

————————————————-

Comet watched from his spot beside you as Tommy wrestled with the fire. He had noticed you shivering despite your high temperature, and bundled you up in blankets whilst sparking matches beside the fireplace. There were raindrops across his shoulders, evidence that he had been outside and to the log store right at the end of the property - a job that had always been for the Groundskeeper. Your precious cat nudged the tips of your fingers as you sighed and watched your husband throw kindling onto the coal, a deep unease settling over your gut.

“Tommy, my love, I’m fine.” It wasn’t exactly true but you felt he needed to hear it. But you could practically see your words wash over him and evaporate like ocean spray.

He was shaking a metal tin in his palm as he worked, and you groaned and let your head hit the pillow as he pulled out two round chalky tablets. You winced as he placed them beside your glass, your mouth already tasting like the sour talc medicine you had come to loathe. He raised his eyebrows and shot you a look that told you he wasn’t far off plugging your nose with his fingers to force you to swallow, and you childishly stuck up two fingers as you took them.

Your stomach rumbled with nausea and you bit back the bile in your throat as you settled into the pillows. You watched your husband as he pulled off his crisp white shirt, revealing his taut tan stomach and the deep ink tattoos that you loved to trace with your fingertips and your lips. There was something about him standing there, with those damn cerulean eyes and hidden muscles, that boyish hair and slender fingers that you wanted desperately around your throat, that made a million tiny fireworks spark inside of you.

But instead you pushed him away from you despite your body wanting nothing but him wrapped all around you. “Don’t get too close. I might have something contagious. I can’t have you getting sick.”

He ignored you, smiling inwardly at the way you always put others before yourself. It was one of the million reasons he had fallen for you. You were sweating out a high fever and shivering in pain, and yet you always thought of him first. He pressed his lips to your temple and pulled you closer, knowing that skin to skin was a way to bring down a fever - even if it meant he had to restrain himself from tugging off your pretty little white nightgown and whatever frilly things you had on underneath.

“I’m not going anywhere. Fuck it if I catch anything.”

“That’s easy for you to say. I’m the one who will have to dote on you hand and foot, you big baby.” You teased, pressing yourself into him playfully, finally giving in.

He held you like a child, trying to hard to soften despite the way you felt underneath him. Everything on him was running a mile a minute, and he couldn’t help but want to try everything and everything to make you feel better. His hand was pressed against your temple to always try and measure your fever, his other palm across your chest to try and count your heart rate.

He could hear Mary treading across the landing carpet but he ignored his anxious maid, instead letting himself be completely consumed by the only thing that mattered - you.

This was something he had to do by himself. He was the only one who could care for you he reminded himself. And he let the words tumble over and over in his skull until they were all he could hear.

—————————————————————-

You had been asleep for a long time.

Every hour, after pacing the length of the hall and sanitising his hands and wiping the beads of sweat above your brow and above your breasts he woke you up and held a cool glass to your lips. You mumbled and moaned and pushed him away but he kept his fingers across your wrist - harsher than he ever had before - and kept you as close to him as possible.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had cooked. Perhaps it was last valentines when the two of you had camped out under the stars, drinking icy white wine and sharing stolen, day drunk kisses. That night he had roasted a chicken over the fire and it had burnt to a crisp as the two of you rolled around the grass, his head buried in your neck as you giggled at the poultry going up in flames.

He was trying now though, easy, plain substantial meals that wouldn’t upset your stomach. Boiled egg and dippy soldiers. Crackers with smooth cheese. Bubbly water and ginger biscuits. Each time he went upstairs you pushed him away, your whole body shuddering and almost retching, and he felt like smashing the plates against the wall at his defeat.

It had been almost thirty six hours since he had come home and it had been almost as long since you had eaten something, and his heart thundered and shattered in his chest when he found you gasping and wheezing over the toilet bowl when you had taken a bite of toast to calm him. He rarely left you alone, only for a few minutes to put the still full dishes in the sink, to ring Lizzie and tell her that he wouldn’t be coming for reasons that he refused to disclose, to smoke a cigarette under the grey stone archway, his shaking hands and bitten fingernails barely visible through the sleepy rolling fog.

He had grabbed handfuls of papers and the brass ink pen you had got him for your anniversary and broke his own rule - bringing work into your bedroom. It had always been a sacred space. For candlelight and soft laughter, aching hands and heart shaped bruises, a sanctuary for him to breathe and to love and to be loved fully in return. But he was afraid if he didn’t have a distraction, he might just completely lose it, and he had to be there for you.

So he sat squinting in his glasses, the room almost completely dark save for a few candles because of the migraines that had started to spread throughout your skull, and let himself be drawn into the mess of squiggly lines and numbers that suddenly didn’t add up, with you still centre stage in his peripheral.

After about forty minutes of rereading the same sentence a dozen times to try and make some sense of it, he heard your voice, like a small crack spreading across a sheet of ice, coming from the bed.

“Tom?” You sounded so weak, he practically flipped your cream vanity as he got to his feet and darted towards you. “I don’t feel well.”

He lifted you as you reached your arms up at him like a child. He almost gasped at the sweat pouring from your body but didn’t want to scare you, and instead held your shaking, shivering body against his own. How could you be so hot, yet so cold at the same time? Your skin was prickled with goosebumps yet you were burning with a fever, and for the first time in a long time, he had no fucking idea what to do.

He left you propped up against the headboard and he entered the bathroom. He ran over to the claw foot tub you loved, twisting the faucet and trying to find the perfect medium between boiling hot and freezing cold. He didn’t want to overwhelm you, just try and soothe your raging fever, and he ignored the shelves of expensive bath oils and scented soaps that you coveted, instead opting for a handful of something meant to ease tension - praying to whoever was listening that it would help you somehow.

There was a brutal, awful moment as he lifted you from the bed, limp as a rag doll, where he imagined what would happen if your heart were to stop. He couldn’t comprehend what it would be like to miss the weight of you in his arms, the smell of your skin, the feeling of your lips against him, the shovels stopping and fading into nothing. It hit him square in the chest, as merciless as a bullet, and he had to lean against the doorframe to stop the two of you from plummeting to the ground.

He undressed himself first. Tugging his white shirt off, sliding off his slacks and his underwear, keeping you as close to his chest as he could. Then he pulled your nightgown up and over your head. He gathered your hair and secured it up with a claw clip so that it was away from your face, the heat radiating off your neck as fierce as the fire now burnt down to ash in the bedroom.

He lowered the two of you into the bath, sinking down beneath the eucalyptus smelling lukewarm water, letting it wash over you both. Your teeth were chattering and you were barely awake. He gathered handfuls of water, letting it drip over your shoulders and pulse points, grabbing a washcloth and running it over your raised skin, hating how you barely registered his touch. As he scrubbed over your collarbones and up to your face he saw your lips had turned to an awful, silvery blue, as vibrant as a fresh bruise. He hissed and tugged on the plug, now determined to get you wrapped up in a fresh towel and tucked back into bed.

You were soft and placid and he helped you out, lacking the usual fire that he adored. Your eyes were glassy and missing their vibrance, like the vanishing spark of a lighter - and he felt miles and miles of invisible distance between the two of you. You were unsteady on your feet and he used his body to prop you up as he warmed your arms with a fluffy white towel. You suddenly stopped, lifting your hand to your mouth as you started to cough - a horrible, dry, gasping cough.

He noticed it almost immediately. His eyes darting to the splatter of red against the white, a smudge of crimson that was as loud and commanding as a siren, a warning signal that something was definitely not right. A bead of scarlet that would linger long behind his closed eyelids.

He managed to get you back into bed, remaining calm as he stroked your hair and kissed your temple. He tucked you under the duvet and waited for your breathing to even before he ran downstairs, his heart thumping in his ears as he practically ripped the phone off of the wall.

“Pol? Fuck. I think - I think I need help.”

—————————————————————-

The room smelt like bleach and metal. Unfamiliar and clinical. There was something hard on your chest and covering your mouth, it tasted like wet pennies and was as heavy as a hand over your throat, but for the first time in days you could finally breathe. You tried to sit up, but there was a needle in your chest, a gown you didn’t recognise cut straight down the middle to accommodate it. You struggled and lifted the thin bedsheet above your shivering torso, trying to look around the cold room.

“Careful!”

It was Polly, dressed immaculately despite her surroundings. She reached out and placed a manicured hand across yours, and you smiled at the woman who had always been a calming influence when you had joined the circus of a family. There was concern in her eyes, rimmed with black eyeliner and lifted lashes but still swimming deep around her pupils. That made you frown, and you moved as much as you could to face her.

“What happened?”

She ran her tongue over her teeth, choosing her words. “You gave us quite a fright, love.”

“I did?” Your memories of the past few days were much like a fever dream, blurry and distorted snapshots were all you could really remember.

“Your pneumonia got worse. A lot worse.” She paused, looking over to the door and you followed her gaze. “They found fluid in your lungs.”

“So...” You started, gesturing to the needle in your abdomen and the breathing apparatus around your head.

She nodded. “Yes. You were in surgery. It was touch and go for a little bit.”

“Really?” You were bewildered. You couldn’t remember anything, let alone having major surgery. You looked her straight in the eye, asking her the questions that had been on the tip of your tongue since you had woken up. “Where is he? Where’s Tommy?”

“He’s outside.” She clicked her tongue, reaching deep into her purse and pulling out some hand cream, gently rubbing your dry hands like she was your mother. You leant into her touch despite all of your questions.

“What? Why?”

“I think he blames himself. God knows what goes on in that mans head. All I really know is he was bloody terrified.” She paused, looking over in the distance. “I’ve never seen him so scared, not even on his wedding day.” She smiled sadly, trying to lighten the mood, but it soon faded. “He didn’t leave your side the whole time you were asleep.”

Your heart thumped in your chest, a soft aching that you knew all too well. “I want to see him.”

“I know you do. But right now...” She stopped right as a handful of nurses entered, clad in long blue dresses with white aprons, hair tied back and smelling of strong soap and disinfectant. You lost Polly in the bustle as one spoke softly to you before tugging on the needle right beside your ribs, your eyes just catching hers as she left, a promise to see you soon on her lips.

It wasn’t her you saw next, but Tommy.

The nurses had cleaned you up with wet flannels and bowls of warm soapy water. Your hair had been braided and your face washed, and walked you arm in arm over to the bathroom so you could relieve yourself. A skittish doctor followed after, his eyes darting across you and his touch gentle as he changed your dressings and took your blood - obviously under strict instructions from your husband, and despite everything, you smiled.

You were sat listening to the clock tick. A romance novel you had been given was dangling dangerously close to the end of the bed, but you were too tired to focus on it. You heard the door squeal softly, and the sound of familiar footsteps across the tiling, each small thud sending shockwaves across your spine.

“Tommy.”

He looked tired. Exhausted rather, as though he had been awake all the hours that you had been asleep. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was sallow and bruised. His clean shaven face was dark with stubble and his hair was ruffled and unwashed. You longed to reach out to him and cradle him against you, but he stood in the doorway, lingering like a ghost.

“Tommy?” You repeated, your voice almost a whisper, breaking his already shattered heart once again.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

You smiled softly, like spun sugar and sweet honey. No hospital bed or itchy gown could dull your infectious light. “Better now.”

He approached you almost cautiously. He settled down on the hard chair beside your bed and stroked a line down from your temple to your lips, his touch setting you alight like an electrical storm. There was a sadness in his eyes that reminded you of how he got when things were bad, and you willed him to come back to you. His touch was tentative and he inhaled shakily as you cupped his hand with yours, pressing a tender kiss to the inside of his palm.

“Don’t scare me like that. Ever.” He was stern, as though hoping his words would make it true. “I mean it.” He kept his gaze on your pretty face, trying his best not to stare at the harsh bruising on your delicate flesh or the sickly tone of your skin.

“Tommy I’m going to get sick, even you can’t stop that.” You teased gently.

“I can bloody well try.” His hands cradled your face, pulling you into him and kissing you fiercely, still mindful of the wires and tubes taped to your body. There was something about the tenderness and deep longing in the kiss that when mixed with your total exhaustion and love for your husband prompted tears to start falling from your eyes. You sniffled as he pulled away, concern dripping from his beautiful features, his powerful mind wanting to do everything and anything to stop your hurting.

“Hey, hey.” He said, running his calloused fingertips under your eyes and wiping your tears away. You leant into his touch and he kissed your temple, squeezing you even tighter into him. “You know I hate it when you cry.” He toyed with your hair and winked playfully. “Besides, all you need to focus on is getting better. You’re going to have to take care of me when we get home, this week has given me a fucking stroke.”

You rolled your eyes, kissing the inside of his wrist. “You’re a idiot, Thomas Shelby.” You blinked at the clock looming above you both, wanting to stay in your blissful bubble but also knowing that Aunt Pol would probably be in the vicinity harassing a poor nurse over your results. “You should go and find Polly, let her know that everything’s alright.”

He shook his head and nuzzled his nose across yours, an act so innocent that your heart dipped and swooped in your chest. “Later.” He said, breathless and consumed by you. Everything had been too much. Almost losing you had been harrowing, it had punctured him completely and he just needed to feel his girl safe and warm around him. He needed to know that you weren’t found anywhere.

“I just want to stay here for a while. Just me and you.”

You grinned. “Always.”