#finally caught up on the anime!! what a good good show

[hoshifighting]

I can’t wait for the day you decide to give us staff woozi😭🫶 Like yes give me that man ⚰️⚰️⚰️

staff!woozi

WARNINGS: suggestive, wet dream, mentions of animes.

staff!woozi who’s practically part of your nervous system, making sure your mic is hot and those earbuds don’t fry your brain mid-show. he’s always just there—like this phantom, gliding in with his little toolbox, brows furrowed in that way he thinks makes him look tough, but honestly, you’re kinda finding it cute now. he doesn’t even have to look at you anymore; just one twitch of your finger, and he knows exactly how to tune your sound to perfection.

you’re halfway through soundcheck, squinting against the stage lights that feel hot enough to cook you alive, when your left earbud goes all staticy. and before you even manage to do your little signal—a quick point down—he’s already behind you. no warning. just his voice in your ear, all low, like he’s got some big secret: “left one’s crackling again?”

you turn, one eyebrow up. “damn, woozi, you psychic now or what?”

he just huffs, pulling the earbud from your hand with this look like, duh. “you’re predictable,” he says, but there’s that ghost of a smirk, just the tiniest hint of it, which—yeah, okay, it gets to you a bit.

he’s fiddling with it, fingers so precise you swear it’s like watching magic. “you keep playing with ‘em too much. one more yank, and i’m replacing it.”

“not my fault they suck,” you mutter, grinning when he gives you that little glare, one that says i dare you to test me.

“try it again..” he mutters, his voice dry, clipped. he’s already yanked a whole mess of cables and tested every single one, but well, it’s jihoon. he’s on his perfectionist shit.

“testin’… one, two…” you go through it, all monotone, like you’re recitin’ a grocery list.

he glances up, hands fiddlin’ with some random connector piece, but he’s noddin’, brows all scrunched up like he’s concentratin’ on the meaning of life. and then, without even lookin’ at you, he says, “speak up like you’re actually performin’—not just for me.”

staff!woozi, in his worn-out, slightly-too-tight black t-shirt, earphones looped around his neck like some kinda edgy fashion statement, looks too good for your eyes.

“i am performin’,” you toss back, brows raised. “just, y’know, waitin’ for the tech crew to keep up.”

he scoffs, and finally, he looks up, an eyebrow quirked in that way he does when he’s two seconds away from roastin’ you to death. “keep up? alright, superstar, let’s get your fancy ass mic workin’ then.”

staff!woozi who's always fumbling with your clothing as he fix the mic return on your back. mumbling something about the mic feedback being all off. and with this stage clothing, the skin-tight fabric practically painted on you, there’s no space to breathe—let alone to move. so when he reaches to adjust the receiver on your back, the boy have no gentleness to tidy it up.

“how can you even breathe in these? hold still.” he sulks. his fingers brush against your skin, just under the edge of the outfit, and you swear his touch is cool, like ice, but somehow it sends this weird heat up your body. his hand skims along your back, his fingers grazing just under the fabric, feeling way more personal than it should.

“this is… really necessary?” you breathe out, tryin’ to keep your voice casual, even though your heart’s doin’ that embarrassingly loud thud-thud thing.

he doesn’t even look fazed, just gives you a quick, smug look, like he can sense your pulse trippin’ over itself. “unless you want the mic feed to sound like a dying robot… yeah, this is necessary.”

his hand lingers just a second too long on your skin before he adjusts the strap at your shoulder, his thumb grazing the edge of the outfit. you’re caught somewhere between wantin’ to annoyingly roll your eyes or “hornyly” roll your eyes.

staff!woozi who somehow, always ends up next to you on the road, no matter where you sit, and by now, you’ve kinda claimed his shoulder as your own personal pillow. he doesn’t complain—just settles in, eyes closed, arms crossed, and lets you drift off.

but today, as your head leans into that familiar spot, his voice pipes up. “y’know, there are other seats.”

you crack an eye open, only to see him smirking down at you. he’s lookin’ all pompous, like he’s finally pieced together your little routine. “it’s just… comfortable,” you mumble, shoving your face back into his shoulder, feelin’ the soft weight of his hoodie, and okay, maybe the solidness of his arm too.

he chuckles, a sound that’s too close to teasing. “oh, so i’m a human pillow now?”

“pretty much,” you mutter, pretendin’ to yawn. “it’s just… efficient.”

next thing you know, you’re both out cold, side by side, and the crew’s gotta wake you both up at the next stop. you stumble out of the van, all bleary-eyed and yawning, both of you with puffy eyes, while the rest of the team’s trying not to laugh.

staff!woozi who watches animes during his breaks. you’re sittin in the dressing room, half-done with your makeup, feeling that pre-show buzz, and there’s woozi, huddled over his phone, totally zoned out in his own world. you’ve seen him do this before—earbuds in, watchin’ his anime.

so today, curiosity gets the best of you. you wander over, leanin’ over his shoulder, catchin’ a glimpse of bright colors and characters moving around on his screeng

“you’re into this?” you ask, unable to hide the smirk as he looks up, caught.

he pulls one earbud out, glancin’ at you like he’s deciding whether or not to share his “serious” interest. then he sighs, almost reluctantly, but starts explaining the plot, his voice just a little too enthusiastic. and you’re nodding, totally faking that you get it, but he’s so damn into it, you can’t help but get a little wrapped up in his excitement.

when you’re waiting for the other idols to finish up their set, the two of you are back in the dressing room, side by side, watching some random episode. you don’t know half of what’s going on, but jihoon’s talking fast, pointing out characters, explaining every little detail like it’s life or death. you just follow it because staff!woozi is hot.

you don’t know how you ended up here, exactly— n woozi’s hotel room, in your freshest hoodie and sweats, hair still a bit damp from your after-show shower. but you’re here, a slice of pizza in one hand and woozi right next to you, already deep into the latest anime episode like he’s watching some masterpiece.

it started simple enough, you mentioning anime to him once. you barely know the basics, honestly, but your friend is an encyclopedia of every single plot twist, so you could at least fake it a little. and you’d swear woozi’s eyes practically lit up when you said you’d “totally be down to watch something with him, if he had recommendations.” it became your thing on tour—grabbing a pizza, lounging in his room, and watching the latest episodes like two kids after school.

but right now? you’re barely paying attention to the screen. woozi’s sitting next to you in this black tank top, arms looking like he’s been lifting soundboards for fun, thick enough to make your mind drift way off the anime plot. his shorts? even worse. you didn’t even realize a person could look that good just sitting down, like he’s giving you a whole show without even trying.

“are you even watching?” he mutters, catching you totally off guard. woozi raises an eyebrow at you, smirking. damn, he knew.

“oh, yeah, totally!” you stammer, nodding way too enthusiastically. “i know… exactly… what’s going on here.” but that smirk just grows, his gaze sliding back to the screen as if to say, yeah, sure you do.

staff!woozi, who hardly tears his eyes from the screen the whole night, so focused it’s like he’s analyzing every frame. you’re beside him, bundled up in his bed, head lolling as the exhaustion finally takes over, pulling you under. he glances at you every so often—at first just a quick look to make sure you’re out, catching the soft rise and fall of your breathing, the way your lashes brush your cheeks in the low light. you’d been running on fumes all night, so seeing you drift off wasn’t a surprise.

but then, he hears it—his name, whispered under your breath, soft like it’s the only thing on your mind even while you’re dreaming. his focus shifts. your back arches just the tiniest bit, your brows drawn together, thighs pressing tight like you’re holding onto some sweet secret even he isn’t supposed to know.

and suddenly, he’s more tuned into you than the screen, pulse pounding in his ears.

woozi pretends this never happened. or tries to.

staff!woozi, who’s suddenly got a whole new edge to him the next morning, acting all distant like you didn’t just watch an entire anime season in his bed last night. on the plane, you figure things’ll be back to normal—you’ve got this routine where you always end up leaning on his shoulder, especially after long nights. but today, he’s keeping a solid inch between you both, arms crossed like he’s suddenly allergic to any kind of closeness.

you try once, shifting a little closer, giving him that sleepy, half-pouty look that usually does the trick. he just leans away, adjusting his earbuds like he didn’t notice.

you huff. “yo, what’s your deal? i’m just trying to sleep, and you’re over here playing hard-to-get?”

he glances over, raising an eyebrow.

“don’t act like you’re too good for it.” you roll your eyes, crossing your arms. “you let me last night.”

“yeah, well, I’m not your pillow today. i gotta keep my neck in one piece.”

you nudge him with your elbow. “since when did you start caring about your neck, huh? you’re literally hunched over soundboards for a living.”

he shoots you a side-eye. “and maybe that’s why i need to protect it now.”

you snicker, leaning back, but there’s that stubborn pout on your face. “whatever, woozi. don’t get mad at me just ‘cause you didn’t sleep enough watching the show without me.”

you’re still leaning back, sulking a little, when you hear it — just a low mumble under his breath. “not my fault you were… moaning my name last night…”

your head snaps around so fast you practically pull a muscle. “excuse me?” you whisper, eyes wide as saucers.

he stares at you, lips parting slightly as he realizes he definitely said that louder than intended. his eyes dart away, and he’s already sinking into the seat like he might disappear.

you blink, heartbeat going wild as you piece together last night, flashes of the dream you’d had flooding back—heat and skin and his name on your lips. you remember waking up in his bed, flustered and warm, rushing back to your own room before he could see the look on your face.

“so… you heard that?”

his hand goes up to rub the back of his neck, cheeks reddening under that deadpan expression he’s clinging to. “yeah, uh… kinda hard to miss...?”

you bury your face in your hands, groaning, but you can’t resist sneaking a glance at him. he’s biting his lip, looking anywhere but at you, and you swear there’s a faint smirk he’s trying to hide.

“god, woozi, you could’ve just… i dunno, woken me up or something!” you mutter, feeling the burn creep up your cheeks.

“yeah, right,” he snorts, glancing back at you now with this smug little glint in his eyes. “like you’d want that.”

[knottedhearts]

Argument: M.S

Summary: You and Matt are arguing because he's being awfully loud, and you're on your period.

The evening had started off fine. You’d both been sitting in the living room, enjoying a quiet night in. But that peace quickly shattered as Matt’s loud voice carried through the room like a sledgehammer. He’d been talking non-stop about some random topic, laughing at his own jokes and rambling without noticing how overwhelming it was. You were curled up on the couch, trying to get comfortable despite the aching cramps that came with your period. You wanted nothing more than to curl up and zone out to a movie or even just close your eyes for a few minutes of silence.

But Matt’s energy was impossible to ignore. His laughter echoed off the walls, and his voice cut through the air with each sentence. It didn’t matter how much you tried to focus on the TV screen or ignore the noise—it felt like his presence was all-consuming, drowning you in sound.

You shifted uncomfortably on the couch, your lower back aching, your abdomen throbbing. Every movement made the cramps feel worse, and the constant noise made it harder to focus on anything but the pain.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You turned to him, your voice tight with frustration. "Matt, can you keep it down?"

Matt didn’t seem to hear you at first, his energy undeterred by your quiet request. He was too caught up in his own story, too wrapped up in whatever had him so animated. "No, seriously, man, I’m telling you," he laughed loudly, his voice rising as he explained some ridiculous anecdote.

You clenched your jaw, trying to keep your cool. "Matt," you said again, this time louder, but with an edge to it. "I’m not feeling good. I’m on my period, and I have cramps. Can you just… lower your voice a little?"

Matt paused mid-sentence, finally catching your tone, but he didn’t seem to understand the seriousness of it. He shrugged, not noticing how you were holding your stomach, trying to soothe the pain. "What’s the big deal? I’m just talking."

You stared at him, the irritation bubbling up like a volcano. "The big deal, Matt, is that I’m literally cramping in pain, and you’re yelling like you’re hosting a damn podcast! Can you show a little consideration?"

He frowned, clearly taken aback. "It’s not like I’m yelling at you. I’m just talking loud because that’s how I talk, alright? You’re the one overreacting."

You could feel the frustration rising, the way the tension in your body was making everything worse. It was hard enough dealing with your physical pain, but now Matt was being dismissive of your need for quiet.

"Overreacting?" you scoffed, shaking your head. "Matt, I’m literally sitting here in pain, trying to get through this, and all you can do is talk at full volume like it’s a damn comedy show. It’s not about how you talk—it's about you being completely unaware of how you're affecting everyone else in the room!"

Matt’s expression turned defensive, his eyes narrowing. "You seriously want me to apologize for how I talk?" His tone was rising now, getting sharp. "I’m not gonna start whispering just because you’re uncomfortable. That’s not my fault."

You felt your jaw tighten, your hands balling into fists. "It’s not about whispering, Matt! It’s about being mindful of the people around you! You never think about how your loud, obnoxious voice affects others. It’s like you don’t even care!"

Matt didn’t back down. "I care! I’m not trying to piss you off. I’m just being me, alright?"

"Being you?" You could feel your patience snapping, the frustration boiling over. "Being you isn’t the problem, Matt. The problem is that you can’t be bothered to understand that people need quiet sometimes, and right now, I need some damn quiet!"

The words hit him harder than you expected. He took a step back, his eyes flashing with irritation. "You think I don’t understand? You think I don’t know you’re having a rough time? But that doesn’t mean I have to change everything about me just to suit you!"

You stood up then, pacing for a moment, the cramps flaring up as you moved, but the anger took over. "I’m not asking you to change yourself, Matt, I’m asking you to be aware of other people’s needs for once. Is that too much to ask?"

"Yeah, it’s too much!" Matt shot back, his voice louder than ever. "I’m not gonna sit here and apologize for talking! Just because you’re dealing with something doesn’t mean I have to tiptoe around you like you’re fragile!"

You felt the tension in the room growing thicker, your chest tightening with frustration. "I’m not fragile, Matt," you said, your voice wavering with a mix of anger and exhaustion. "I just need some goddamn peace. Can you give me that?"

But Matt wasn’t backing down. His voice was cold now, defensive, as though he couldn’t understand why this was such a big deal. "You think I’m just gonna stop being myself because you’re having a bad day? That’s not how it works."

The words felt like a slap, and you finally snapped. "You know what, Matt? Maybe you should just leave me the hell alone!" You threw your hands up in frustration, the weight of the argument crashing down on you.

Matt’s face reddened with anger, his hands clenched into fists. "Fine! You want me to leave you alone? Maybe you should just deal with it yourself, then!"

His words stung, and before you could even react, you spun on your heel and started walking away. "Where are you going?" Matt called after you, but you didn’t stop, walking straight toward the door.

You grabbed your jacket, throwing it on as you walked out of the room, trying to push away the wave of frustration that threatened to overwhelm you. "I need space," you muttered under your breath. You didn’t even know where you were going at first, just wanting to escape, to get away from the noise and the tension.

"Wait," Matt said, his voice softer now, but you didn’t turn around. "I didn’t mean it like that," he called after you, but you kept walking, your heart pounding in your chest.

You didn’t want to hear apologies right then, not after everything that had been said. You just needed a moment alone, away from the noise, away from the confrontation. You didn’t know when or how the two of you would work through this, but right now, all you could focus on was finding some peace.

You didn't know how long you'd need, but you were sure of one thing—until Matt could truly understand the importance of being considerate, the fighting, the noise, and the misunderstandings weren’t going to stop.

[brummiereader]

@mischievouslittlecreature

Sorry I'm late getting to this. I've had a busy past few days 😩.

Lucy, you're killing me with these comparisons you keep making between yourself and Lizzie. It's so hard to read when she slips into this mindset, because I think as the reader, you see all the qualities about her Tommy loves. As much as Tommy loves a beautiful woman like we have seen in canon (Lucy is gorgeous too!), i feel like he's really attracted to the things that make someone them. That and wit and intelligence. No offence to Lizzie, but even in the series, their conversations don't go very far. He needs somebody to match him on that level, and thats Lucy ❤️.

She remained at his side as they enacted the first part of the plan, schooling her features into an expression of distraught mourning while Tommy climbed into the ring and fired his revolver into the air. I love this scene! Not only does Lucy like to put on a dramatic show, but so does Tommy 🤭.

“You deserved every second of it.” ooh that evil witch 😬. I'd like to think those exact words played out in her head in the final scene to this chapter 😌.

With wrathful, echoing footsteps, Lizzie came storming in, throwing her coat aside as she stalked towards Tommy’s desk. God, will we ever get a break from Lizzie barging through Tommy's office 🙄. She's starting to get on my last nerve with her continued entitlement. I feel so sorry for Lucy everytime she turns up. She just puts a huge damper on every single scene, and it doesn't surprise me how Lucy continues to feel worthless when she's around. Lizzie constantly demands all the rooms attention every time she shows up. It's so bratty and immature. I say all this but, the small interaction between them at the end was a welcome relief. But I just know she'll F it all up again in later scene *slams head repeatedly against table 🤦🏼‍♀️😩.

“Which is why we can go together" yes to this! If they're gonna do this, they need to do it together. Every single interaction. Because if they don't, Lucy will start to doubt Tommy's love for her, something I feel he's caught on to now and hence, why he suggested this ❤️.

“Good to see you again, Lucy,” Luca beamed at her, white teeth barring like an animal poised to start ripping out throats. “How’s your back?” *pushes Arthur out the way so I can shoot him myself 😡. Urghh, he made my skin crawl during this scene. His remarks, his snake like mannerisms 😬. But what make me smile was this line, because I knew exactly what it meant 🤭...What’s the bag for?” She didn’t answer, just staring at him silently, teeth clenching tight against each other.

only to have the back of her coat seized, yanking her back like a kitten seized by the scruff of the neck by its mother.-"Don’t you dare,” Polly said in a voice that was almost motherly. Couldn't not mention this line before moving on to the next scene 😂. I love Lucy, she really is like an over eager kitten trying to get involved!

Ahhh yes ☺️. The sigh of relief I sighed when Audrey finally met her end. Once again you set the scene perfectly with her mulling about in her kitchen as Lucy waited in the dark 😈. It gave me shivers how Lucy toyed with her until the very end.

“Speaking of Luca, I have something of his for you. Would you like to see?” She reached for the bag, and before Audrey could protest or question what she meant, Winters stood, picking up the bag and yanking it open, turning it upside down to allow its contents to drop onto the kitchen table. Luca got the Lucy special 👌🏼. How creepy is it that he's seen the heads of his men one by one thrown at his feet. Did he never stop to think that his head would be served up like all the men before him?? This man has zero hindsight 🤦🏼‍♀️.

Not an inch of iron to be seen. 😳, seems Audrey got the same as Luca! This line was short but so gory, I loved it!

Incredible chapter once again Lily! I can't believe how close we are the end of this Act 😭. So excited for the next installment to this amazing series ❤️.

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: An incident at Bonnie's boxing match provides the family with an opportunity to end the war.

Word Count: 6,837

Notes: Warnings for depictions of insecurity, violence, blood, and references to past sexual assault and pregnancy.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 27: Endless Shadows

“You look dead,” Alfie said to her in greeting as he entered the locker room, moving to sit on the bench across from them. 

“Oh good,” Lucy didn’t open her eyes from where she was still leaning with her head resting against Tommy’s shoulder. “Then I look how I feel.”

Tommy’s thumb rubbed up and down her shoulder soothingly.  

She cracked her eyes open a sliver while Alfie and Tommy talked, watching Alfie curiously. There was something odd in his eyes, and his words were almost…melancholic.

“Glad you’re back, kiddo,” he gave her a small pat on the upper arm as he stood and said his farewells. But that look did not cease, creasing at the edges of his eyes and the corners of his lips. 

“Thanks, Alfie,” she said, brow furrowing at the near apologetic way in which he said it. 

They watched him walk away, heads cocked and frowning. 

“Convenient of him to be moving to Margate now, of all times,” Tommy remarked once Alfie was gone. Lucy nodded. 

“You think that Luca scared him?”

Tommy’s lips pursed. “Alfie doesn’t strike me as the type to get scared off that easily.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” she frowned, still eyeing the archway through which Alfie had disappeared. A roar of cheers emitted from the ring. “We better get going. Fight’s about to start.”

He put out his cigarette, standing and helping her to her feet. Linking her arms back through his, Lucy gave him a soft squeeze. 

“Alright?”

She nodded. “Just don’t let me get jostled around too much.”

He smoothed a hand over her hair, kissed her forehead, and led the way back towards the ring. 

It already smelled strongly of sweat, booze, and smoke, the men hollering and jeering, lurching and moving like a great wave of bodies as they watched Bonnie and Goliath circle each other. Tommy led the way to their seats next to Arthur, keeping a protective arm around her to shield her from the bulk of the crowd. After they took their seats, Arthur soon started fretting to Tommy about the men that had come with Goliath. Lucy followed his gaze to where they stood in their corner across the ring. The men didn’t look all that engaged with Goliath, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Maybe Goliath preferred for his men to be more hands off. 

But Arthur continued to insist that something was wrong, despite Tommy’s attempts to soothe him. 

Her eyes darted to where Polly, Linda, and Lizzie all were seated across the ring from them, giggling and shouting encouragement to Bonnie while passing around a bottle of Tommy’s gin. As expected they were all dressed up lavishly for the occasion, in glittering, form fitting dresses, furs draped over their shoulders, and jewels dangling from their ears and throats. 

Lucy felt a sharp wave of self consciousness wash over her, quickly wrapping her arms around her middle, shoulders drawing in as if that would somehow achieve her new goal of becoming invisible. 

She watched Lizzie, so tall and elegant and beautiful as she laughed and chatted with Polly, and wished that the ground would swallow her whole. They could not have looked more different if they’d tried. Where Lizzie was tall and slender, Lucy was short and curvy. Lizzie could wear just about any of the dresses currently in fashion and look marvelous, but if Lucy tried to wear anything without some sort of defined waist, she’d wind up looking as though she was dressed in a potato sack. Some days she could hardly get her curls to cooperate, but Lizzie’s hair was almost always beautifully styled and tamed. Her eyes were actually in proportion with the rest of her face, rather than oversized almost to the point of absurdity like Lucy’s were. Where Lucy’s face was covered in freckles, Lizzie’s porcelain white skin was clear of any marks or blemishes, nor was her body marked with any cuts that would soon heal over into truly hideous scars that would never really fade away. 

God, Lucy couldn’t help but think, she had to look absolutely horrid compared to her. 

She glanced at Tommy out of the corner of her eye, taking in the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones. She was not even close to pretty enough to be with him. Lizzie would have looked right at his side. A perfect match–at least outwardly. Lucy could not help but assume that she and Tommy must look terribly mismatched together. 

He really probably ought to have his head examined. Even on her best days, no one in their right mind would choose her over Lizzie. 

Clearing her throat, she wiped at her face with her sleeve, hoping that anyone who noticed would assume that she was dabbing away sweat and not the tears building up against her lashes. 

Movement to her left snatched away her attention. Arthur had stood, disappearing into the crowd and ignoring Tommy’s shouts for him to come back. Instead he continued towards the hallway leading to the back, following right on the heels of one of Goliath’s men who had wandered off from the rest of the pack still gathered by the ring. 

“Fuck’s sake.” Tommy grumbled as he watched Arthur go. Lucy settled a hand on his shoulder. Around them, the crowd’s shouts rose to a fever pitch as the fight intensified. 

Minutes ticked by, and Arthur did not come back. 

Stretching up in her seat, Lucy craned her head around, trying to see if he was in the crowd somewhere and they’d just missed him. 

“Tommy,” she grabbed at his bicep in warning as another one of Goliath’s minders left his post, heading in the same direction that Arthur had gone. Seizing her hand, Tommy shot out of his seat, pulling her along with him to follow. His jaw was straining, eyes wide, and she wondered if he was thinking about how she’d stepped out just to run a few errands, and was almost snatched away from him forever. How the same exact thing might be happening with Arthur. 

They had just rounded a corner in the maze of backrooms when the unmistakable sound of a gunshot going off echoed somewhere within the halls and rooms up ahead. Tommy skidded to a stop, hand flying into his coat for his gun. Lucy mimicked his movements, flinching at the way that reaching into her coat pulled on her shoulder. 

“Stay behind me,” Tommy ordered. She opened her mouth to protest, then promptly closed it. It would be laughable to try to argue that she could actually be of much use right now in anything but a distanced firefight. And he didn’t have time to waste worrying about her getting hurt again. Following him closely at a rather painful jog, they rushed down a hallway bathed in baby blue light, turning into another room in which one of Goliath’s minders was standing over a crumpled Arthur, gun aimed at his head. 

Tommy’s shot struck him directly in the chest, and he went slouching to the floor.   

Tommy went racing to his brother, shouting his name and pulling him up into his arms. Lucy double checked to ensure that the man he’d shot was actually dead, then checked the corners of the room for any other enemies that may have been skulking about. There was no one. 

Rounding back to Tommy, she went to kneel at Arthur’s side. For a second, she thought that he was dead, his eyes were staring at nothing and there was blood on his hands and throat. Tommy curled over him, a hand cupping the side of his older brother’s face, thin rivers of his blood lacing across his hand. 

There was roaring from the crowd still gathered around the ring in the distance, the sound reaching such a volume that Lucy thought they very well might bring the roof down. The fight must be over. 

Arthur twitched and gasped in Tommy’s arms. Tommy let out a relieved wheeze, hugging him tightly, and Lucy breathed out gratefully, resting a hand on the back of Arthur’s head while his face tucked into Tommy’s shoulder.

“Are you alright?” Tommy drew back, grabbing him by either side of the face. Arthur nodded, still breathing harshly.

“Just nicked.”

Tommy nodded, and while she drew out a handkerchief for Arthur to dab at his neck, Lucy spotted something shift in Tommy’s eyes, immediately recognizing the telltale expression of an idea taking form as the circuits in his head began to whirl at warp speed. 

“Tommy?”

His eyes snapped to her. “I’ve got it figured out.”

“What?”

He grabbed at both of them. “I’ve got it figured out,” he repeated.

“Got what figured out, Tommy?”

His eyes glittered. “How to win.”

∗ ∗ ∗

She remained at his side as they enacted the first part of the plan, schooling her features into an expression of distraught mourning while Tommy climbed into the ring and fired his revolver into the air, creating plenty of noise and commotion, drawing all eyes to him so that Arthur could easily sneak away whilst Tommy announced the news of his ‘death’ to the world. 

It had been chaos after that; hours spent as their men searched and questioned everyone in attendance before allowing them to leave. And the family had swarmed Tommy with questions and reactions of shock and horror. The only other ones outside of Lucy and Tommy that knew that Arthur was still alive were Polly and Linda. It was the only way to be sure that everyone reacted believably during what was coming next. 

The boxing ring was empty and quiet, now. Everyone had finally been dismissed. The family had all gone back home to steep in their shock and grief and prepare for the funeral.

“I’m sorry.” Lucy said, playing with her fingers, keeping her voice quiet.

Tommy raised an eyebrow, fishing a cigarette from his case and swiping it across his lips. “Why?”

“I feel like I’m really fucking useless right now.”

His features creased, moving to stand directly in front of her. “Hey, no; none of that now. You’re hurt. It’s not your fault. Besides, you’ve already taken out plenty of Luca’s men throughout this vendetta.” He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip. “You’ve more than done your part.”

She sighed, leaning her forehead into his chest. The day had been long, and she was exhausted. Her injuries, particularly her back and shoulders, were starting to hurt badly. 

“Let’s go home.” Tommy suggested, reaching for her hand. Lucy took it eagerly, letting him lead her from the building and out onto the streets. Tomorrow would be busy. They needed to get back to the house to start preparing for it.

“It was some of Alfie’s boys that attacked us,” Tommy mumbled, head bowed, the hand that wasn’t holding hers slipping into his pocket.

“I can’t believe that he betrayed us for Luca of all people.”

Tommy shrugged. “It’s what Alfie does.” But the hurt in his voice was obvious. “Maybe Luca threatened him.”

“When has Alfie ever backed down because of threats?”

A sigh of agreement left his lips. Lucy shifted uncomfortably, her own hurt at Alfie’s actions squeezing within her throat. 

“Do you think he knew that they took me?” Her voice was quiet, not bothering to try to hide the pain that the thought brought her. She’d known Alfie since they were teenagers. He’d gotten her medical attention that she likely would have died without it after Matthew and his friends assaulted her. And despite her working for and being wholly loyal to Tommy, they’d always maintained a friendly, warm relationship. That he would allow for her to be tortured…

She bit her lip, looking down at her shoes. Tommy squeezed her hand. 

“I don’t know, love. When I called him while you were missing to ask him to have some of his men search for you in London, he seemed genuinely worried. I don’t think…” he trailed off with another sigh. “I don’t think that he knew. But it’s hard to say for sure.”

“Yeah,” she offered him a wobbly half smile. “I’m assuming we’re gonna have to pay him a visit to Margate after things are cleaned up here.”

Tommy’s jaw twitched, eyes growing even more sorrowful than they’d been a moment ago. They both knew how any visit to Alfie was now likely to end. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“I guess we can ask him then.”

They continued to walk together in silence. There was something else that she wanted to discuss with him, but she was unsure how he would take it. She’d never made a suggestion quite like the one she was about to make. Mounting her courage, she forced her lips to part and her tongue to move.

“I think that you should send Michael away.”

Tommy did not react, head still dipped, staring at his shoes and the cobblestones while they walked. She’d just opened her mouth to say more when he finally spoke. 

“Yes, I think you’re right.”

“I don’t trust him anymore.”  

“Me neither.”

She sighed, both in relief at Tommy’s agreement to her suggestion and with disappointment towards the boy that had once shown so much promise. “Well…fuck.”

He hummed in agreement. “Not our best year.”

“No. No, it really hasn’t been.”

His fingers flexed against hers in a tender squeeze, head turning to kiss her forehead. She could see the house on the end of the block, her tired bones giving a quiet cry of relief at the thought of soon being able to rest. 

∗ ∗ ∗

The next few days were spent laying meticulous plans and taking careful actions. Michael was sent away to New York, and Lucy and Tommy spent a significant amount of time on the phone, locked in calculated negotiations. Arthur’s funeral was a quiet affair, a good amount of tears shed and sorrow exchanged between the family as the wagon went up in flames. 

The meeting that took place after with Audrey Changretta saw Lucy leaning against a wall. Luca had taken her rings, so her hands had begun to instead unconsciously pick at the skin of her fingers whenever she was nervous, leaving bloody scabs to add to her ever growing collection. She did not say a word during the whole exchange, keeping her eyes focused straight ahead, not even looking at Audrey for fear that if she did, she’d kill her. 

This woman. This cunt who John had spared. And how did she repay them? By setting her sadistic fucking son on all of them. Her husband had Tommy’s wife killed, and yet she dared to speak as if his death by their hands was unjustified. 

When the meeting was over, Audrey gathered up her things, and went to the door. Upon passing Lucy, she stopped, looking over her bruised face and the bandages peeking out from under her clothes. Lucy forced herself to meet the woman’s cold eyes, keeping all feeling off her face. Audrey leaned forward, so that Lucy could smell the sickly sweet scent of her perfume.

“You deserved every second of it.”

“That’s enough; get out,” Polly commanded, taking a step forward, probably at least in part so that she was placed between Audrey and Tommy. A dark storm cloud of rage had passed across his eyes at Audrey’s words, his icy gaze remaining locked on the back of her head as Polly ushered her out the door. He looked to be seconds away from throwing the whole carefully laid plan to the wayside and killing her then and there. 

Heaving herself away from the wall, Lucy went to him, resting both hands on his upper arms to get his attention and draw him away from his murderous thoughts. She rubbed her palms back and forth, feeling the heat and strength of his arms through the layers of his clothes. 

“She’ll get what’s coming to her,” she reminded him. No need to rush things. Besides, what they had planned for Audrey would be far more satisfying than a quick bullet to the back of the head. 

Tommy nodded, head angling down and wetting his lips. Lucy leaned closer to him.

“Almost done,” she whispered in quiet encouragement.

“Yes,” Tommy murmured, with the tone of someone who knew that the tribulations of life would never fully be finished with them. “Almost.” 

∗ ∗ ∗

She passed form after form to Polly and Tommy, helping to keep track of which ones still needed to be signed and by who. The scratch of pens against paper and the rustling of pages was the primary sound in the office, save for the occasional clearing of Tommy’s throat, or quiet mumbles from any of the three of them. 

When they were finally done, Tommy gathered all files into a folder, sighing and planting both hands on his desk while Polly leaned back in her chair, flexing the fingers of her writing hand. 

“Right, so now–” Lucy began, but was cut off by the door flying open. With wrathful, echoing footsteps, Lizzie came storming in, throwing her coat aside as she stalked towards Tommy’s desk. Lucy shrank away, quickly getting up from her chair so that she could retreat into the corner while Lizzie snarled questions as to why Tommy hadn’t been by her house yet to visit her. Tommy sighed, slumping back into his chair with a cigarette. Polly’s eyes darted shrewdly between the three of them. Lizzie dropped into the seat Lucy had been occupying, an expectant look on her face. 

Lucy frowned at the entitlement. Had she forgotten that they were still in the middle of a fucking war? That, as far as she knew, Tommy’s brother had just died? Did she really think now was a good time to start making demands of his time and energy?

She flinched at her bitter thoughts, looking shamefully down at her hands, aware that she probably wasn’t being fair.

Despite their talk before the kidnapping, she still couldn’t shake the feeling that Lizzie and the baby inside of her were hanging over her relationship with Tommy like the blade of a guillotine, poised and ready to drop at any moment to sever them from each other.

She glanced out the window, wrapping her arms around herself. As Tommy and Polly explained to Lizzie that Luca was coming for them all tomorrow, Lizzie’s face paled. She stared at Tommy, completely aghast at his apparent surrender. 

“You can’t just…you can’t just let him take everything…” she began to stammer.

“You want to live?” Tommy asked. Lizzie pressed her lips together, eyes wide. “This makes that possible.”

Lizzie looked around at all of them with her lips parted. “Wha–you all are alright with just giving up?”

“I thought that you wanted him to stop all of this sort of work anyway, Lizzie,” Lucy mumbled. Petty? Maybe. But her shoulders were starting to hurt again and she really was regretting letting Lizzie take her seat. Lizzie’s eyes widened, darting between Tommy and Lucy at the subtle revelation that he’d told her everything she’d said to him during their conversation when Lucy was taken. “And I don’t know about the rest of you,” she shifted uncomfortably, “but I’ve had enough of this war.”

Lizzie’s gaze dropped down to her lap. 

“We need to get going. There’s still things we need to do,” Tommy stood and grabbed his coat. “We’ll talk once this is all over, all right?” he told Lizzie in an attempt to placate her. She nodded, actually looking agreeable to the suggestion. Lucy picked up the folder of papers, moving to follow Tommy and Polly out, when Lizzie delicately touched her arm, triggering her to pause. 

“Lucy, I’m…” she worried at her bottom lip, then sighed. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

Lucy blinked. “You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not. I know we’ve…I’ve had my problems with you, but I would never have wished what happened onto you.”

Lucy stared at her, wetting her lips, surprised at the genuinely in Lizzie’s voice. “Thank you.” She wasn’t sure what else to say. Jerking her head towards the door, she beckoned her to follow them out. “Come on.”

Lizzie gathered up her coat and trailed her to the door. “I didn’t mean to make such a fuss–”

“It’s fine,” Lucy lit a cigarette, pushing the door open to step out onto the street, moving to stand at Tommy’s side. Lizzie looked at them nervously, it not lost on Lucy how her eyes lingered on Tommy’s hand when it rested lightly on her shoulder. There seemed to be a battle going on inside her, the desire to lash out and rage at them for the gesture of affection, versus the need to keep the peace.

Lucy had to wonder if her current injuries had been what had earned her at least somewhat of a reprieve from both Polly and Lizzie’s hatred. That, and Tommy’s increased protectiveness. If either of them tried anything with him present right now, there was a strong possibility that he would rip their heads off. 

“You want a ride?” Polly offered to Lizzie, who nodded somewhat sheepishly, giving one last indication of goodbye to Lucy and Tommy before following Polly to her car. 

“Sorry about that,” Tommy huffed. Lucy shook her head. 

“It’s fine. You really should go visit her…”

A quiet groan left his lips, thumb rubbing at his eyes while his features scrunched as if in pain. “I know.” It sounded like it was the last thing on earth he’d like to do. Lucy squeezed his arm. 

“It actually is a nice house.”

“Fucking grand.”

“Tommy.”

Another groan. “We can go over there together sometime after this is done.”

“Maybe it would be better if you went on your own…”

He shot her a sharp look, behind which she swore she saw a stab of panic. “Absolutely not.”

“Tommy…I know you’re gonna have to spend time with her. It’s fine. I can be an adult about it.”

“Your behavior isn’t what I’m worried about. Besides,” he watched Polly and Lizzie’s car pull away from the curb and drove away with a little honk of the horn in farewell to them, “she’s already delusional enough about what may or may not happen between me and her. You really think me spending time alone with her is gonna help that?”

Lucy looked down at her shoes. “I just feel bad…”

“Which is why we can go together. Hey,” he took her by both shoulders, waiting until she was looking up into his eyes before speaking again. “Her feelings aren’t your responsibility.” 

“Feels like they are when I’m the cause of her misery.”

“You are no such thing. If anyone is, it’s me, not you.” He brushed his knuckles against her chin. “Even if you weren’t here, it would not change things between me and Lizzie. You’ve nothing to feel guilty for. You’re not keeping me from her. I promise.” His forehead bumped into hers. “I don’t love her. I don’t want to be with her. I want to be with you. Ey?”

A lump formed in her throat, nodding. His words helped, but only a little. It would only take a few days or so, and her insecurities would return as they always did. There was no escaping them. 

“Come on,” he kissed her, and took hold of her hand. “We’ve got more important things to worry about than Lizzie right now.”  

She let him guide her down the sidewalk, still holding onto him, despite the whispers of the guilt and self doubt that Lizzie’s pregnancy had awakened. Murmurs that told her over and over to let go and walk away.

∗ ∗ ∗

“Quick or slow?”

She stared over at the huge barrels that lined the wall of Tommy’s gin distillery, turning the question over in her mind, feeling Tommy’s eyes on her as he waited patiently for her response. 

“I don’t suppose I could ask for a bit of both.”

His head tilted curiously. “How do you mean?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to him being roughened up a bit before we put a bullet in his face. But…” she sighed, head tilting up towards the rafters. She could no longer hear the flutter of starlings’ wings. “I just want him gone.” Maybe then, I’ll finally be able to sleep at night. It had worked, if only partially, with Matthew. No, it had not been enough to stop the nightmares, or the aching from her scars. But the peace of mind that it had brought her, knowing that he could no longer return to hurt her or anyone else ever again, could not be understated. “Quick,” she decided. “I want it to be quick.” It had been enough for her when they killed Vincente Changretta with a single speedy bullet to the head. It would be enough for her now with his son. 

“Okay.” 

She leaned into him, head nestling under his collarbone. “Thank you for giving me a choice.”

He stroked her back tenderly, kissing the crown of her head. “You don’t need to be here. You don’t have to see him again.”

“I want to be there,” she argued back. “Please, Tommy. I promise I’m not going to kill him prematurely, or anything like that. I just…” want him to know that he didn’t break me completely, she finished silently, looking down, lip caught between her teeth. When she raised her face back to Tommy, her gaze was pleading. “I have to see this.”

He searched her eyes for a very long moment. “I won’t let him touch you,” he promised, finally. “And if things get ugly, if there’s any sort of struggle or anything like that, I need you to swear you will stay out of it. I can’t have you getting hurt.”

She knew her agreement to that condition was the only way he’d allow her to be in the same room with Luca, so she conceded. Though not without a small grumble. 

And so she stood there, with Tommy, Polly, and Finn, as Luca’s men filed into the room.  

Her hands squeezed tightly around each other at the sight of Luca’s tall, imposing figure stepping forward. He grinned, that same damned smile he’d flashed her way dozens of times while carving into her flesh. It took all her willpower not to shrink down behind Tommy, her heart suddenly thundering in her ears, all instincts screaming at her to get as far away as possible from the man in front of them. 

“Good to see you again, Lucy,” Luca beamed at her, white teeth barring like an animal poised to start ripping out throats. “How’s your back?”

The deep, barely healed lashes he’d created in the skin of her back ached with memory. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Tommy said through gritted teeth, drawing Luca’s attention back to him. Luca strode forward, until he was close enough for Lucy to gag on the familiar scent of his cologne. He and Tommy stared each other down, and then Luca snapped his fingers, one of his men coming forward with a briefcase. 

What happened next was as expected: Luca monologued for a little while. At his order that they all be searched, slight panic washed over Lucy that he would try to touch her. But when he made a move towards her, Tommy shifted himself in between them with a growl. Luca’s eyes danced with mirth at the reaction, but he seemed to know not to push it, gesturing with a gloved hand for one of his men to come over and pat her down instead. 

“Careful of her bandages,” he said, a leering smile still aimed at her. “Wouldn’t want to rip open any stitches.”

Lucy glowered at him, hate shooting white-hot through her veins. That just seemed to amuse him more, before he turned his attention to Polly.

The Italian man peeked into her coat and patted at her pockets. She flinched at his hands pressing into her bruised ribs, but he followed his orders, being careful not to jostle her too much. He pulled from her boot her hunting knife, her gun from its holster in her jacket, and an empty burlap sack from her coat pocket. Luca chuckled, taking the items, examining them and then setting them on the table. 

“I’d expect nothing less.” He said to her, his tone carrying underneath its faux fondness an edge of something far darker. “What’s the bag for?” She didn’t answer, just staring at him silently, teeth clenching tight against each other. Her lack of answer only seemed to delight him more. “What say you that later we…” his eyes swept up and down her body leeringly, “pick back up where we left earlier, hm? Lucy?”

She felt bile rise in the back of her throat, nails digging into her skin where her hands were still clasped together, leaving little crescent moons in their wake.

“Luca,” Tommy’s voice rasped, tone dangerously low. “You’re here to deal with me. Not her.”

Luca’s gaze lingered on her for a moment more, then shifted back to Tommy. “Yes…” he murmured, a soft hiss drawing out the last letter. Those snake-like orbs gleamed as Tommy shifted a little closer to her, placing himself half between them. Luca raised a pen to Tommy, indicating the papers he’d scattered across the table. “So…sign.”

When Tommy didn’t immediately start signing the papers laid out before him, Luca had a little hissy fit, the display of which managed to cause Lucy a brief spark of amusement. This was all theater, after all. And Luca was about to be in for a very nasty surprise. The calmness in Tommy’s voice as he spoke helped too, reminding her that they were the ones in control of the situation–and all the men in the room. 

Seeing the glee slowly drain from Luca’s eyes while Tommy and Polly revealed to him what exactly they’d been busy doing since the events of the boxing match, was perhaps one of the most satisfying things Lucy had ever experienced. She could feel the beginnings of a smile twitching at her lips, and was aware that there was a sadistic sort of light beginning to dance in her eyes. 

It was not nearly enough for what he’d done to her, but it was still satisfying as all hell to observe. 

Luca made a move to grab his gun from his coat, and Tommy lashed out at him with a metal pipe on the floor, striking it out of his hand. Lucy’s muscles tensed–an action that really fucking hurt–with the reflex to jump in and help him as the pair began to struggle. She took half a step forward, only to have the back of her coat seized, yanking her back like a kitten seized by the scruff of the neck by its mother.

“Don’t you dare,” Polly said in a voice that was almost motherly. Tommy sent Luca crashing into a dozen or so gin bottles lined up on a table. “He’s fine.”

A tiny, distressed noise left Lucy’s throat, but she did as she was told. She’d promised, after all.

Tommy didn’t need her help, anyway. He was bringing Luca’s head down over and over again savagely against the table, steadily transforming his features into a bloody pulp. As he continued to beat Luca within an inch of his life, the side door opened, and Arthur stepped in with his gun already at the ready. 

At the sound of his footsteps, Tommy’s head turned in his brother’s direction, raising Luca up, he presented him to his older brother, and the bullet fired from Arthur’s gun made a quick home in Luca Changretta’s bloodied face. 

It blew straight through his head, out the back of his skull and ripping a hole into one of the gin barrels behind him, a steady stream of clear alcohol starting to rain down onto the floor, permeating the room with the scent of booze and juniper.  

Lucy did not hear any of the orders Tommy rattled off to the remainder of Luca’s men, nor the warning Arthur left them with. Her eyes remained fixed solely on Luca’s dead body. There was a rush of both cold and warmth going through her. Relief, that he was dead. Regret, because she did not get to be the one that made him that way.

He may be dead, but he would be with her forever. Always in her head, laughing as he whipped her and ripped at her flesh. The thought chilled her to her core, her breaths turning shaky. 

“Luce–” Tommy tried to reach out for her, but she shook his touch away, staggering forward and grabbing her sack and hunting knife that Luca had set on one of the tables. Pushing past him, she kneeled by Luca’s corpse. The hunting knife twirled once in her hands, and then she set to work with it. Behind her, she heard Polly let out a soft gasp, turning away as Lucy started to prepare the very final phase of their plan to end the vendetta once and for all. 

∗ ∗ ∗

Audrey Changretta held an expression of iron across her face. 

Even wandering through her own home, alone, putting the kettle on and bustling about to make herself a cup of tea, the look remained, held firmly by the muscles of her cheeks and jaw. 

It was the look that had emblazoned itself upon her face as she lay there on the ground, after Arthur and John took her Vincenzo away and left her laying there sobbing. Slowly, the tears had turned to quiet sniffles. Then, to silence. And her look of grief and sorrow had transformed, until nothing but unyielding steel remained in its wake. 

The fools should have killed her when they had the chance. 

She had grabbed onto the hate that had burned within her with both hands, not caring when it scorched her skin or withered away the gentle heart she’d once had. Even towards the troublesome little boys who had sat in her class. 

But they were no more those innocent, sweet little children than she was the kindhearted teacher she had once been. Her heart had died with Vincenzo. And much as Luca or his men may have liked to think otherwise, she was the real head of the family in his absence. And to be that, she had to be steel. There was no room for gentleness or compassion. She would stamp out each and every one of them. Not just the ones who carried the name Shelby. But any close to them. The old man who owned the scrapyard they so often liked to gather at. The gypsies who’d dared to join up with them. The whore who’d gotten herself knocked up with Thomas Shelby’s bastard. Not even John’s widow would be spared. It would take time to find her, of that Audrey had no doubt. But they would.

Then there was the matter of the little Red Demon, of course. She would be back in Luca’s grasp before too long, if she was not already. Then they could finish what they’d started with her. 

So foolish that he’d let her escape at all. But she supposed that it didn’t matter now. They had her, same as the rest of them. And by the time the sun rose, they’d all be dead.

Finishing preparing her tea, she cradled the delicate China teacup in her hands, and turned to go sit in the chair at her kitchen table next to the window. 

The seat was already taken. 

A harsh intake of breath rushed painfully into her lungs, hands tightening around the teacup in surprise. But despite being caught off guard, the look of iron across her face never waved, not even for a second. 

Her and the figure folded lazily into the chair just looked at each other for a long moment. Audrey’s eyes darted to the exit, considering if it would do better to try to make a run for it or to shout for the guards that Luca had posted outside.  

“Don’t bother,” Lucy Winters said. Even with the lights off and nothing but the silvery light of the moon peeking in through the window to illuminate her, Audrey could make out her distinctive, foxy features. The deep red hair, the shimmering green eyes, the freckles and slanting cheekbones. Despite half her face still a faded purple from the bruises Luca had gifted her, she managed to embody an untouchable, subtly unnerving beauty. Like a poisonous plant or a feral fox. Lovely to look at, but lethal. 

“How did you get in?” Audrey demanded.

“I’m a very talented person. Please, sit.”

Audrey eyed the seat that Winters kicked out for her warily, not moving. “The terms for peace have already been set. The meeting with Luca and Thomas has already taken place,” her eyes narrowed to slits as she leaned forward slightly. “So just what do you think you are doing here, girl?”

“Mr. Shelby had something that he wanted me to deliver to you in person,” she gestured to a bag on the table. Audrey huffed out a rather over exaggerated sigh.

“I have no interest in gifts.”

Winters smiled, and it was a truly terrible thing to behold. Her green eyes glittered madly, red hair framing her face like a fiery halo. 

Horns would be more fitting, Audrey thought bitterly to herself.

“I think you will with this one,” she shifted in her seat, and Audrey noticed the gingerness in her movements. The girl was still badly hurt. A flutter of pride flapped in her chest towards her son. Even if he was an idiot for not outright killing her when he had the chance. “I wanted to be the one to come see you,” Winters said, stretching out, sprawling in her chair. “You see, you and I should have met a long time ago. If only Tommy had sent me to take care of you and your husband instead of his idiot brothers, you’d have never made it out of Liverpool. We could have avoided this whole mess.”

“Luca still would have come after you to avenge us.”

“Maybe,” Winters agreed. “But he wouldn’t have had such deep insights into our organization, now would he? That was all from you.” A sneer curled her features. “Ungrateful cunt. John let you live, and you repaid him with a rain of bullets on his own fucking doorstep.”

“You dare talk to me like that? You’re an adulteress slut who’s only gotten as far as you have because Tommy Shelby likes to stuff his cock in you. You have no room to pass judgment on anyone after the things you’ve done. I ought to order the torture Luca had planned for you finished. It would be justice for all the pain you’ve caused.”

The Red Demon smiled, slow and easy, not at all perturbed by Audrey’s words. “Speaking of Luca, I have something of his for you. Would you like to see?” She reached for the bag, and before Audrey could protest or question what she meant, Winters stood, picking up the bag and yanking it open, turning it upside down to allow its contents to drop onto the kitchen table. 

Luca’s head, bloodied and beaten, hit the wood with a dull, wet thud. His green eyes were open, wide and staring lifelessly at her. The stump where his head had been severed from his neck oozed. 

Audrey’s mouth fell open, but no sound came out. The teacup tumbled from her hands to shatter on the floor. The room swayed, her hands flying out to try to brace herself on the counter. Her boy. Her sweet boy. He’d just been with her that morning, grinning and overjoyed as they celebrated their victory against the infernal Peaky Blinders. They had biscuits and drank tea. Any moment from now he was supposed to walk through her front door, and tell her how his final meeting with Thomas Shelby had gone.

They’d won. They’d fucking won. The vendetta was over. How…?

A low, wailing moan started to emit from her throat, collapsing to her knees, eyes unable to pull away from Luca’s lifeless face. 

No, no, my boys, they’re all gone. They’re all dead, my whole family…

She was not at all aware of Winters striding around her, nor of the cold press of a blade against her throat. Not until it sliced across her skin, and her blood flowed out of her to splatter across the kitchen tiles. When she fell lifeless to the floor, her expression was twisted into one of despair and grief, chillingly similar to the same one that had crossed her features as they ripped Vincenzo away from her, and she sobbed alone into the dirt. 

Not an inch of iron to be seen.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

[overlymetaromantic]

the fact that Yor has carried Loid in canon but we have yet to see Yor actually carry Loid in canon is a travesty that I cannot wait to see be rectified

Yor really should knock Loid out more often, it’s probably the only way the man ever gets in any power naps

[hurlingdown]

WITH MY HANDS AROUND YOUR THROAT — TOP MALE READER X SUKUNA

synopsis. taming the king of curses is one thing. making him beg is another. since it's either fuck him good or get your throat slit anyway, why not take a gamble and achieve both? wc. 2.6k

tags. sub! sukuna, soft dom!reader. can be read as cock or strap. brat taming, choking, begging, hair-pulling, belly bulge, heavy praise kink, pet names (good boy, sweetheart), porn with feelings, this turned out way more intimate than i intended it to be

His back arched away from your chest as you slowly pushed your cock inside him, stretching him wide open. You could feel his every ragged breath from the hand you wrapped around his throat, silent for once, and you knew he was eager. 

“Good fuckin’ boy, Sukuna,” you muttered lowly into his ear.  

You barely heard the warning growl. He turned his head abruptly, teeth snapping together in an attempt to bite as you jerked away, barking out a startled laugh. 

“Aw, that was cute.” And as though the bite wouldn’t have torn flesh, wouldn’t have scarred your face for life, you smiled down at his scowling face like it was a pretty thing. 

“I am not your pet,” Sukuna snarled, and he sounded angry, something akin to a wounded animal. You hummed non-committedly, continuing to push until you were snugly seated inside him. “Fuck—the n-next time you call me that, I will bite something more than your face.”

“How tempting.” Despite his threats, his legs were trembling with effort to hold himself up, and he pressed his throat into the cup of your hand, willingly submitting to your touch. You squeezed lightly, just enough to press into his windpipe, and watched as all four of his eyes rolled to the back of his head. 

It was funny, really, how he was using violence to disguise what a whore he really was. You counted to five before you let go. 

Apparently, you stopped too early for his liking. He was panting, his glare wet with tears, biting down a moan with bared teeth as the fat tip of your cock caught on his rim before easing in again. You were moving at a lumbering pace, deep and hard inside him but too fucking slow and rubbing at all the wrong places. 

He was growing frustrated by the second, and he finally barked, “Get on with it or I’ll kill you! Do you want to fuck me or not?” 

“I am fucking you, Sukuna.” 

“Not like this! Fuck—fuck you!” he half-hissed, half-whined, nails digging into the soft mattress. ‘More’ and ‘faster’ were on the tip of his tongue, but he took pride in his title of the King of Curses, and naturally his ego kept his mouth sealed shut. “Do really think I will hesitate to kill you just because I let you inside me? Are you that much of a fool?”

“Nah,” you replied nonchalantly, rolling your hips inside him to jolt out a startled moan. “You can kill me, but I don’t feel like catering to you today.” 

His words exploded into a string of expletives as he slammed his hips against you, shuddering as it only dug deeper, missing his sweet spot by far. 

Sukuna wanted to scream. 

Hand sliding up from his throat to firmly seize his jaw, you turned his face to meet you. “D’you need a reminder, sweetheart?” Your fingers dug into his cheek, taking extra precaution in making sure he wouldn't suddenly rear up and bite you. 

You needn’t have worried, though. He was way too desperate to care about the pet name or comprehend your question at that point, and he bucked his hips impatiently against yours, letting out a displeased growl. “What? J-just fucking fuck me already, brat.” 

You ignored him, continuing to move into him at a languid pace. “If I just give you the reward every time you ask, you’ll turn spoiled. How about you show me that you’ve earned it first, mm?” 

“What,” he lets out a shudder, breath bordering on a sob because why couldn’t you just give him what he wanted? He was so good for you, all patient despite his arousal, waiting for you to take him like you had promised, and yet you were being so mean and unfair to him. “What do you fucking want from me? You are just—fuuuckk, you are just human—so fucking weak, comparable to an insect! What makes you think you have the right to demand that of me? I am your king.”

He wanted to rip that smirk right off your face, punch your pretty face in. Dine in your blood. You didn’t deserve him. 

“I don’t have any right, I know,” you agreed, “but you aren’t entitled to everything, either.”

“Your ways of insinuation are pathetic—”

It hit him then, like a thunderbolt splitting the earth apart, and he gave a violent shudder.

The past twenty minutes had not been for nothing. You weren’t just toying around with him. You wanted him to see him crumble from his want for you. You wanted to hear him beg for it.

“No,” he gasped, shaking his head wildly. “No, fuck you. I am not going to beg.” 

You felt a sadistic smile creep onto your face. Seeing him deviating from his usual cocky self, now a babbling, incoherent mess, gave you a strange sort of pleasure. “I didn’t ask you to beg, though, did I? But now that you mention it…” 

You wanted to break him. 

Not that he wasn’t breaking already.

Sukuna was trembling with the effort of not giving in, sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip so hard it tore through skin. Blood trickled down one side of his chin, and you wanted to lick it up. 

“I am your king,” he repeated, a tremor in his voice betraying his want. “You offer to me. I do not beg.”

“Well, king, you’re holding up all the fun,” you taunted, voice sickly sweet. “Don’t you wanna be a good boy for me?” 

He shook his head again, this time with less force. Tears were welling up in his eyes again, and he didn’t even bother to blink them away, too occupied otherwise. They dotted on his lashes, threatening to spill. Where were his promises of ‘biting something more than your face’? What a little liar. 

“I’ll make you feel so good you’ll be feeling it for days,” you purred into his ear, “in exchange for one word. That’s all I’m asking for. You can do that, can’t you, sweetheart?” 

You watched in triumph as his eyebrows furrowed, as though carefully contemplating his answer. It was far too generous of an offer—he would be a fool to refuse. You made sure he knew that. Just one more little push, and he would topple over the edge and become putty in your hands. One more push. 

Kissing your way down his spine to plaster yourself to his back, you reached a hand down his abdomen with your free hand, pressing into it where your cock rested within him. It was too much, and you knew it. You were heavy and thick inside him, filling up every inch of his tummy, and he hadn’t stopped clenching around your girth since the first time you pushed it in. Then you moved your hand, feeling him up until you found the thing you were looking for. 

You heard his breath hitch. 

Beneath your fingers was an obscene swelling high up in his abdomen, protruding from the hard lines of his stomach. A bulge that made for clear evidence that his insides were carving out a space for you. You should have known there was no way it would fit so innately. No matter how disagreeable his personality was, his body was so good for you, as always. 

You gave the bulge a little squeeze, and Sukuna let out a choked whine, mouth gaping as though trying to form words. 

You pressed yourself to his back, kissing his shoulder. “What is it?” 

He shook his head, continuing to whine softly, no longer as petulant as he was desperate. You were almost afraid you had broken him. 

You decided to take one more step. Flattening your palm on the bulge, you carefully pressed it back into his stomach. “What do you want, Sukuna?” you whispered. “I’ll give you everything you want.”

He tipped his head back to glare at you with the corner of his eye, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Give me more,” he gritted out, helpless. “Please.” 

Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?

Without warning, you pulled back and rammed yourself into him in one go, angling your hips to pound right into his sweet spot, making him cry out in surprise. “W-wait, wait, ahh!” he screamed, the hand on his neck forcing him to stay in place. “Slow down, ‘s too much—” 

You continued to slam your hips against him, hitting his prostate with every sharp thrust, drinking in his whines and complaints and ignoring all of them. “You’re so good, so fuckin’ good, Sukuna.” 

He whined loudly in response, hands grasping for purchase on the sheets as you railed him into oblivion. “Not good, no,” he sobbed, shaking his head, his protests falling on deaf ears. “Bastard, slow down…”

You let go of his throat to grab the back of his neck, shoving his face roughly into the mattress as he cried out. “Fuck, how do you feel so good?” you muttered mindlessly, taking more rapture in looking at his pleasure-addled expression (eyes squeezed shut, drooling onto the bed, moaning loud and clearly in ecstasy) than the fact that you were inside him. “I could do this all day long, y’know?” 

The tip of his erection grazed against the sheets with every thrust, and he wanted nothing more than to grab it and jerk off to your pace, but you kept his hands so busy, either trying to knock off his balance or brutally pound his entire body into the bed. 

“Ah, ah, sh-shut up! Keep talking and—I’ll twist your head off!” he threatened with a whine, desperate, but you continued to talk, embarrassing him further. 

“Look at you,” you cooed, “you were making a fuss earlier, and look at you now, taking me so well. Fuck. You look like you’re made for this, Sukuna. Made for taking my cock.” 

He seized up at that, hole clenching around your girth obscenely, making your pace stutter. 

“What was that?” you laughed. “Was that a turn on? You’re too cute, really.” 

Sukuna tried to morph his face into a look of disgust, but all he succeeded in doing was have his eyebrows pinched up in a look that resembled pure bliss more than anything. At some point he gave up struggling, arms going slack as he allowed you to pull him back against your cock by the hips, fucking him onto your lap as lewd ‘ah, ah, ah’s escaped his lips. 

You were pounding into him like an animal, treating him like one, and yet your pathetic, ingratiating words never failed to make his heart cramp up with a strange sensation, heat spreading from his face to the tips of his ears and down his chest, painting him a pretty red. 

You were just another lowly human, he reminded himself, someone to fuck and forget, but at the moment Sukuna found himself wishing to get lost in the stars that erupted around the edges of his vision every time you hit his prostate, found himself wanting a second time, even if the first hadn’t ended yet. You drove him insane, and he loathed how good it made him feel. 

“Brat,” he heard his own voice, wrecked by how much noise he had been making, and you leaned forward to kiss his spine, letting him know you heard him. 

“What?” you murmured as he didn’t continue, slowing down your thrusts. “D’you need something? Does it hurt?” He bristled at how tender your words were, how you acted like you cared about a bloodthirsty curse like him. 

“Did I give you permission to stop?” He pushed his hips back against you with a growl, forcing you to pick up your pace. “Just wanta let you know—after this. You’ve got—hnngh, ahh, fuuuck! Nowhere to run. So don’t even think about i-it.” 

You blinked, equal parts amused and perplexed by his sudden threat. You dared not stop, though, even as he started to pant and whine heavily into the mattress, body shuddering with the gradual approach of an orgasm. “I’m not going to run from you, Sukuna. Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Why would you run, when he was right under you, pliant and wanting for you to satisfy him? Did he not understand how much you’ve yearned for this? 

“Good choice,” he moaned, “don’t you dare fucking stop until you make me cum.”

You sped up your thrusts, snaking a hand back onto his neck and up to fist into his hair, wrenching his head up to smother him with a filthy kiss. It was rough, and more teeth than tongue, and at some point you could taste the sharp tang of blood from the cut in his lip earlier. You lapped it up along with the saliva that trickled down his chin, hearing him let out a needy whine. 

“So close, ah—so damn close, please, please, fucking please—” he begged shamelessly between loud moans, stripping himself naked of all dignity as he spent the last of his energy to bend his back into a vile arch, pressing his ass against your crotch as you slammed yourself into his swollen sweet spot in one powerful thrust. 

A scream ripped from his throat and he came untouched, staining the bed with white, at the same time clamping down on you so hard you jerked to a sudden stop. You collapsed onto his back, panting loudly as you tried to catch your breath. 

“Fuck,” you groaned. “You okay?” 

He refused to respond, keeping his face buried in the mattress. You took the opportunity to pull out, hearing him let out a soft whine, cold and aching and suddenly empty. 

“Fuck you,” you heard him mutter. 

That was good. He was still alive. 

You slumped down onto the bed next to him, kissing his shoulder to try and get him to turn, and he raised a shaky hand to flip you off, mumbling something you assumed was a profanity. 

Biting down a grin at how utterly adorable he was being, you found yourself overwhelmed by a sudden rush of affection. 

“What, are you shy?” you teased. “Don’t be.” 

He scoffed, the tips of his ears reddening. “Brat, I am not shy.”

He didn’t have any reason to be shy. Not to you. After all, you had long mapped out every inch of his body, from his prominent features to his most vulnerable. Made him want to bare his throat for you to make him feel good.

But nothing could have prepared you for the way Sukuna slowly flipped himself onto his back, levelling you with a sleepy, half-lidded gaze instead of his usual hard glare, muttering something under his breath. He watched you quietly, placing his hand next to yours on the bed, the position far too intimate for your comfort.

“Hey,” you blurted out, feeling your heart skip a beat. You knew you were risking everything, and that he could kill you in the blink of an eye, but you couldn’t stop the next words from coming out. “You were really good today.” 

Good.

Sukuna had been called many things in his life before, but ‘good’ was not one of them. Good men did not dirty their hands with the blood of the innocent for fun. Good men did not sit on a mountain of bones and call themselves a king. Good men did not grow six arms and four eyes and look like monsters, and Sukuna was a monster himself.

There was a long, awkward pause, and his eyes were wide with a look you couldn’t decipher—one of disgust or mockery, maybe, and you were already regretting it. But to your utmost surprise, it started with a light blush dusted high on his cheekbones, before it bloomed into a dark red that spread across his face. The corners of his lips twitched, and then lifted, ever so slightly. He immediately fought to replace it with a scowl, but you had already seen it. 

He had smiled. Sukuna had smiled at you. A genuine, almost soft smile, as though he cherished the way you told him he was good, had longed to hear it for centuries of living.

“Quit smiling, brat,” he huffed, but his voice lacked any real venom, more exhausted and content than anything, and made no refusal when you leaned in to kiss him.

Sukuna would later realise that he was neither good nor man, but if you were ever so willing to embrace a curse like him, he supposed he could be good to you, for you.  masterlist! # and here’s to introducing me and my delusions to the jjk fandom… also i feel like my tags r getting a lil repetitive lol

[monicahar]

“what are you doing?”

you comically cower behind his back even further.

“hiding.”

“...why?”

“because there's a flipping lion in the room with us, JING YUAN. that's what.” you snap back angrily.

if you're wondering how you got into this predicament—it's not that far from being akin to a kidnapper leading on a child with sweets and delicacies.

under the guise of work and a few promised cuddles, he had made you follow his steps into his home—now with you glued to his body like it's your own lifeline. the snow-white lion snugly lies down by the only exit of the room you're both occupying—having just introduced herself when it came to jing yuan for a few pets, scaring the bejeebers out of you when its fur had grazed the back of your thighs all of a sudden.

the lion only shows confusion yet complies when jing yuan coaxed her to go away for a few moments. in other words—for you to take a breather.

in response to your much evident suffering and growing impatience, a mirthful laugh escapes him, craning his head to look at you over his shoulder to throw you a small mischievous grin “it's just my cat. i don't see the problem.”

“that's fully grown lion, you scoundrel!” you hit his back weakly, whisper-yelling as if said lion would attack you if you spoke any louder. “a-ah...it's looking at me weirdly. it's definitely thinking of how delicious i am!”

“mimi is very gentle. i doubt she's thinking of such a thing.”

you sink further in his shadow when the lion catches your wary gaze with a tilt of its head. “jing, please. it may like you, but i doubt that a territorial species would enjoy having a stranger around its person bubble.”

“you're free to leave anytime, darling. i'm not forcing you to stay.” he says coyly.

“with how your adorable little mimi is standing right by the door—i doubt i can leave of my own accord.”

“so you think she's adorable? good to hear that.” oh, now he has selective hearing?

“jing yuan. please.” you kneel down and tug on his robes pleadingly, catching him off guard to the point he has now decided to fully turn towards you in mild surprise. “i really don't know how to deal with this! i don't dislike her or anything, i'm just super scared that she won't like me and would—”

“calm down.” your lover couches down before you, hand raising to pat your head. “she doesn't bite. i promise.”

“how are you so sure?” you question incredulously, ignoring the way your heartbeat quickens at his actions. “even if she's domesticated, she's still an animal that thrives on her own survival instincts.”

“dearest, would i really have taken in a pet if it was openly feral?”

“yep. you would.” you reply in a heartbeat.

his eye twitches in return.“ahem—okay, so as i was saying,” standing up to his full height, he stretches out a hand towards you, staring at you softly as he does so. “we both know i adore delicate and gentle things, [name]. mimi is exactly that—hence why i didn't mind taking her in and burdened you with meeting her.”

you raise a brow. he shrugs, opting to resign upon your obvious reluctance on the matter.

“truthfully, i wished to see my two favourite companions to bond and get along with my own two eyes,” he heaves an apologetic huff, a tad bit disappointed whilst you only stare in surprise, “but if you're really uncomfortable with it then i suppose i shouldn't force you.”

he helps you up with ease when you finally put your hand on his, hastily padding off the dust that was caught in your clothes upon kneeling down.

grasping your hand comfortingly to calm your nerves, you hate that it work flawlessly upon his touch.

“let's go?”

you were about to nod—until your gaze catches the lion's once more.

...pretty eyes.

snowmoon.

your heart clenches at the realisation.

“on second thought...” you trail off, watching as the mammal sits up in anticipation at your eye contact. jing yuan raises a brow at you, “i think i'll try interacting with her.”

he huffs out a deep chuckle, “really, you don't have to—”

“mimi?” you call out, leaning sideways to look past behind your lover's tall figure. he does the same, turning his head over his shoulder to look at the same direction you're fixated on.

the lion perks up, and starts walking towards you. you grin, but not before whispering back to jing yuan,

“if she actually bites me, we're breaking up.”

“no promises.”

you finally pat the lion's head after about an hour of excessive whining it'll bite you, finally havin found the courage to actually see it as a mere domesticated cat whilst glaring daggers at the owner.

“mimi...attack that bad guy.” you point at him, face still looking smug as ever.

“she won't listen to y—” said lion pounces on him.

idek what this is fiakehwjbsksbw i cant write no more man,,,,*/proceeds to make another jingyuan drabble in google doc

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yokai Harem x Reader (I)

This is probably my longest running dysfunctional daydream scenario, so I thought I'd share it here.

As stereotypical as it gets, you've fallen into an old well and found yourself in feudal Japan. Almost immediately, you're attacked by a yokai that calls you by a name you don't recognize. He insists you possess the soul of an ancient priest that would capture demons under a binding contract. Something isn't right, however, so your life is spared until further clues come to light. With two men unwillingly bound to you, you begin to uncover this mess as more 'collection pieces' show up. They might prefer you to their previous owner.

TW: violence, monsters

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Character Guidebook]

You vigorously cough out whatever grass you seemed to have bit into when you hit the ground. Was all this vegetation here just one moment ago? As you get up and dust your knees you're brought back into focus by the loud buzzing of insects. You look above and involuntarily squint your eyes. You didn't expect to see a full, bright sky.

"What the hell?" is all you can mutter.

You and your university friends had planned a quick trip to the neighboring Tokyo, just to visit some trending local cafes and shop around. You somehow wandered into the suburbs and found a very obvious path to a large shrine that was visible from the bottom of the stairs. Now, what's more stereotypical than finding a shrine, approaching it with shy steps, dangling the old rope of the bell and humbly clapping your hands together for a quick prayer that gives you a fake sense of meaningfulness? Then again, you love a good cliché. So you did just that, and then whipped out your phone to snap some artsy photos of the place. In your search for the perfect angle, you spotted a wooden structure among some pillars and zoomed in to realize it's an old well.

Here's where you awkwardly tiptoed away from your friends. You couldn't possibly confess to them that you're one of those anime nerds, and that you immediately thought of a certain classic title, and that this could make a very good impromptu cosplay shoot. You could smell the nostalgia as you carefully swayed your way behind the pillars and under the shade of the tiled roof. You bent over carefully (apparently not carefully enough) to asses how deep the well was. Just as you were about to exclaim its shallowness, you felt the gravity pull you inwards. Within seconds your head made contact with the moist soil and you briefly blacked out as the rest of your body arrived in proper position.

Unpleasant, but you've had migraines worse than this. Though now you're wondering whether you might've damaged some important brain parts, given the sudden change of scenery. Or has your dysfunctional daydreaming finally caught up to you?

You laugh silently and test the walls around you, feeling for some contact point that you can use to pull yourself back out. You finally crawl out, but freeze with your elbows around the frame of the well, looking ahead.

There's no building around, just tall grass and what seems to be the beginning of a forest. You remember to blink, and each time you close your eyes you hope to see the shrine once again, to no avail.

"I thought I'm past the risk age for schizophrenia", you mumble in a humorous attempt. The situation is so absurd that you need to share it with an imaginary audience.

You muster up the courage to step out and onto the ground, with extra caution as if it could vanish at any moment. After brief consideration, you slap a bunch of weeds in front of you to test their consistency. The hard stems hurt your wrist and you nod. This is a little too intense to be just a hallucination.

Alright, so you got trapped in some sort of feudal anime remake. What now? You glance around, almost hoping to see some white haired man sleeping against a tree with an arrow stuck into the chest. You check your phone. No signal, but thankfully it still works. You have a battery and its charger, but the latter is probably useless. Unless this remake comes with electricity. You chuckle at the thought. Who knows, maybe it's one of those isekai otome games instead and some timeline inconsistency or loophole will provide you with an outlet.

After trying the well one last time without success, you decide to at least find another human being. Then you can get some grasp of your whereabouts and situation. You notice a patch of grass that's been bent to the ground, probably from frequent stomping. That's a start. You follow the hints of bipedal movement and hope for the best.

The improvised path slithers downhill and around the mass of trees, and you question whether the fields ahead might have traces of houses on them. You pick up your pace in anticipation.

A sharp swish of an unknown object causes you to flinch and halt, and before you can process it, a thin blade lays inches from your nose. You follow its length and find the source: a tall, horned (???) man with silver hair.

Ironically enough, he seems to be more shocked than you. His facial expression flips from focused anger to unbelievable confusion within seconds. His eyebrows are raised and his lips part.

"Ah!" you yell as the gears begin to turn. "Christ, you almost made me question my sanity!

Now let me tell you, this is some great cosplay. I was about to beg for my life. Hah! How the hell did you pull the whole transition? Is the well a tunnel? I hope I didn't accidentally break into some event."

The man returns his sword into its sheath, still in deep disbelief.

"You're not him, are you? But then again..."

"Huh? Him? I'm sorry, were you expecting someone? If you show me the way out I'll disappear in a moment." you turn around, prepared to be led to the exit. "Who're you cosplaying, anyways? I'm a big fan of historical dramas, but I don't recognize the character design."

"I don't understand what you're saying." the man tilts his head in utter surprise.

"Alright, I get the point" you force a laugh, slightly irritated by the persistence. "You're deep in your acting, I get that. Focus and all the jazz. But my friends are around the corner and I don't have signal, can you please skip the theatre and show me the exit?"

"The exit to...where? You're outside."

You sigh, loudly, and click your tongue. "Enough of this, please. Where's the shrine?"

"Ah, I get it. You're trying to confuse me." he pulls his sword back out. "I've had enough of your tricks. You're in an early stage, aren't you? Not strong enough to fight back. I can sense it."

Oh God, it's one of those maniacs, you think to yourself. You raise your arms as a peace offering and hope you won't be featured in the 5pm news with multiple stab wounds.

"Listen man, I really don't know what you're talking about. I'll leave quietly and won't bother you again, I promise."

You gulp and await a response, but the man's mouth opens and the words are replaced by a foreign, disembodied shriek. There's a rapidly approaching heavy shuffle that sounds like the trample of many limbs. You feel your leg being hooked into something and the ground turns around at a dizzying speed.

Something just grabbed you.

Given the movements of the lips, you're assuming that the mysterious cosplaying maniac is yelling something, but your ears are ringing and throbbing as the adrenalin begins to pump. You're being thrown around by something and you can feel the skin holding your leg together creaking and tearing with every jolt.

You manage to land your eyes on the creature. The teeth are unnaturally sharp and it seems to have many arms and legs arranged in a scattered order along the scaly body. It trashes around in such a fluid, dynamic way, that you doubt it could be the result of any machine. It's a living thing and currently attacking you for whatever reason.

Once the bizarre reality settles in, panic floods your body and you scream for help. If not the maniac, then some godly intervention. You did offer a small donation at the shrine, it has to count for something.

The spectacle doesn't last long, since the silver haired man doesn't hesitate to behead the creature. You can see that he wasn't making empty threats with his sword skills. You'd prefer, however, if you weren't the next one to go under his guillotine. Your body rolls over the dirt, limp from the shock.

You tilt yourself upwards pathetically and let out a groan once you attempt to use your leg to stand. You turn around and notice the aftermath of your little air ballet. There's a deep wound and thick, red blood is oozing out, scrambling to form a protective crust.

"You... really can't fight at all, can you? You weren't lying."

The man is now standing in front of you, the same amount of disbelief he had at the beginning.

"How the hell would I have fought that...that..." you choke and can feel tears forming in your eyes. "I don't understand what's happening. I just want to go back home. I don't know what's happening." you start sobbing and angrily rub your eyes, hoping to trigger some sort of way to wake up. But your eyelids burn and you feel awake. This was never a dream.

Your sudden meltdown startles the man and he awkwardly hovers his hands over you, unsure of how to handle this.

"Sorry, if I had known, I would've stopped it earlier. I genuinely thought you're..." he sighs. "I'm really sorry. You got hurt because of me."

"Can you please tell me where I am? I feel like I'm going crazy. It's year 202X and I was out with my friends and fell into a well. I've never seen a creature like that in my life. I somehow ended up here and I can't go back. Where the hell is this?"

"I... I don't understand what's happening either. I came here because I sensed he's back. I didn't expect to see... well... you." 

You scan his face. His frown is sincere. Which, truth be told, is even less helpful. You're back to square 0, it's getting dark and your ankle is trashed. 

You just want to sleep.

You stare at the ceiling, hands locked together over your chest. The improvised hay mattress isn't exactly comfortable, but it's certainly better than nothing. You sheepishly glance at the horned man. He's sitting by the window, idly looking outside with hooded eyes. He seems to be tired, too. 

"Try to get some rest", he'd told you earlier. Easier said than done. After the monster attack, he carried you on his back until you found an abandoned hut. His way of apologizing for letting you get mauled. As you walked, he narrated his reasoning to you. 

His name is Kiritsubo. When he was a child, a human dressed like an onmyouji took him in for training. Said to be the successor of Abe no Seimei himself, the man was feared throughout the country for his supernatural powers. Most of his strength, however, came from the collection of yokai he'd gathered to work for him. None of them had agreed to it, but no one knew how to break the bond subduing them. Eventually, the old man succumbed into his eternal slumber, yet the yokai were still not freed from the contract.

Some of them suggested he wasn't truly gone. Merely reincarnated. And today, he felt it for the first time. That's how he stumbled upon you. You appear to have part of his soul within you, whether you realize it or not. But if you truly have no knowledge of it, he doesn't have the heart to slaughter an innocent. 

"What about the rest?" you blurt out, quietly.

Kiritsubo turns to you, mildly startled.

"What do you mean?"

"You said the man owned 12 legendary yokai. Are you the only one left?"

"No." He frowns. "They most likely know about you already. Let's try to send you back to your world tomorrow, because they will not be as forgiving."

A shiver runs across your spine. This one is scary enough already. You pray you'll be home before you can meet any other beast.

"This is where I found you, so the well shouldn't be far." 

The silver haired man surveys the horizon and you limp forward. 

"I'll check the area, since you can't walk much."

As soon as he says that, he vanishes. You're left with the heavy buzz of afternoon cicadas. You might as well do your own search. Keep yourself preoccupied. The idea of leaving this behind fills you with excitement and you find enough strength to push ahead. 

A few minutes later, you hear a shuffle behind you. Could it be that Kiritsubo already found the well? Enthusiasm fills your chest and a burning heat spreads out. Although it speedily pools in your left shoulder, and you notice in horror that it wasn't enthusiasm taking over your body. A blade is sticking out of your shoulder, avoiding anything vital as some sort of mockery rather than omission. 

"Found you."

The voice is deep and foreign. You barely manage to tilt your head and meet the glowing red eyes of a black haired man. Dark horns are twisting menacingly from his crown and his expression is that of pure wrath. As fresh blood drips down your chin, you wonder if this is the next yokai in line to seek his revenge.

How will you get out of this?

[sh1-n0bu]

♡︎ 𝙖 𝙨𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙠𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙘 ♡︎

characters: sub!gallagher x nb!dom!reader

warnings: usage of aphrodisiacs, exhibitionism, slight dumbification, thigh riding, dry humping, begging, cumming untouched, gallagher being an old man loser, just a mini drabble guys. nothing big (i say as i write down 1,7K words)

notes: @lufenianwol you knew exactly what you were doing when you sent me gallagher’s leaked idle animation didn’t you, you gayyyy🫵🏳️‍🌈 (im gay too😔)

sigh…

another day, another long work of hunting down criminals or outlaws who came to penacony uninvited and detaining them. the most time gallagher could ever get to de-stress were behind the bars, mixing up a drink his customers asked for or when with you. you were a fellow bloodhound, a high ranking one too, so never had enough time to spend some quality time with your tired lover.

but today, you wanted to be a little mischievous. and what was that on your mind? you slipped just a teeny weeny bit of aphrodisiacs into his usual alcohol in his personal flask of course! just a little. maybe a pinch or two. a bit of a sprinkle of magic as a gift.

or maybe even a whole mini bottle. but you won’t say it until your tired lover comes crawling over to you, huffing and puffing, whining whimpering as he begs for your help at “restocking” some of the alcohol at the backrooms.

at the other end of the bar, you watch with a barely hidden smirk whenever your lover takes a sip from his personal flask during his break times. each time he does, getting more and more intoxicated in the taste. you purposely chose one that tasted delicious and soft on the tongue, a way to reward him for his hard work of running after criminals and preparing him for what was about to happen.

he started out strong, as expected of a bloodhound officer. barely felt it, focusing on work, wiping a glass or two, mixing up a drink. but the more he drank from his flask, the more you noticed it. the little stuttering over his words, the slight flush in his cheeks, the jumpy way he reacted whenever you passed by him with a hand on his waist or lower back. that bulge in his pants. that damn delicious bulge that you love to bully.

shaking your head, snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you focus back on work to wipe the bar clean and serve the customers drinks and desserts of their liking. you and gallaher were a good pair to serve amazing cocktails after all.

finally, the rush hour had ended, meaning fewer customers. the fewer there are, the more noticeable gallagher’s show of being affected by the little sprinkle of magic became. at first, he tried to play things off as signs of cold, or just the warm and low lighting of the bar being the reason his cheeks are pink. hell, he even coughed a few times to make his act believable. believable to the nosy customers but never to you.

“[n-name]…” the man barely manages to muffle his whimper when calling out your name, low lidded eyes, hazy vision and slightly shaky hand tugging on your necktie. you hum, turning to him with a raised brow as if you weren’t the reason behind this panting mess in front of you.

“yeah? what’s up?” you ask, putting down the bottle on where it’s supposed to be as your hands come to rest on his waist. the rush hour just ended, the bar still had a few customers but they were either too drunk to care nor engrossed in their own sob life stories to share you two a glance. and gallagher was damn glad for it too.

“w-we, ahem, need to head to the backrooms. we’re running out of some beers and fizzy drinks in the fridge” he quickly clears his throat, hoping that no one had caught onto his little stuttering. you did, of course. you would catch onto anything your lover says or does. even the tiniest things. such as how he was trying to make it seem like an innocent half-hug when you could feel his cock twitch in his pants as he pushes his crotch against yours, hoping to conceal it while also giving you a little heads-up.

as if you needed the heads-up.

“alright. you can go first, i’ll come after you once i wipe my hands” you nod your head, watching as your lover disappears behind the door with a sign that read “staff only”. it was cute how gallagher was so trusting of you, never even thought for a moment how you could have been the one to drug his flask of alcohol. though, judging from his cloudy eyes and stuttering, you could guess that he could barely even think to begin with. how adorable of him.

soon enough, you follow after the steps of your lover, walking into the “staff only” part of the bar and later onto the door with the sign “backrooms”. the pretty decent sized dark room where the bar keeps their ingredients and drinks. the same exact room where your lover pushes you against the wall the moment you entered, shaky hands fumbling with the buttons of your button down shirt as he humps his hardened cock against your crotch.

“woah woah, puppy. easy now. what’s going on? i thought we needed to restock on our drinks?” you ask, feigning innocence as your hands rest over gallagher’s shaky ones, stopping his fumbling and managing to catch his attention for a minute. he looked so dumbfounded. bottom lip on the brink of bleeding due to his chewing, panting, cheeks flushed a pretty red as his dilated eyes try to focus on you. you swore he looked like he was almost on the brink of crying with how damn pathetic he looked.

“c-can’t… [name], please, help me… ‘s so hot, tight. stupid pants mmngh!” gallagher only moans, tripping over his own words in a jumbled mess as he tries to find some sort of relief for his poor aching cock. looking down, you could briefly make out a dark small patch at the front of his pants. he was so drugged that he couldn’t even tell that he was staining his own clothes with his precum. so cute.

you only hum in response, not bothering to do as he pleads as your hands rest on the fat of his ass, massaging them gently. he only whines, slurred words of how he wanted your hands on his cock falling out as he squirms in your hold. lowering yourselves down to the floor of the room, you shift gallagher on top of you to ride your thigh instead. flexing the muscles in them to make it easier for him as he whimpers at the feeling.

immediately, the man started to hump your thigh. salacious mewls falling out of his lips as he doesn’t even try to silence his loud noises, only dumbly trying to relieve himself as he rubs his clothed cock on your thigh. you could see the dark patch in his pants getting bigger, darker the more he rides your thigh. if he had his dick out, he would probably leave a mess all over your clothes.

“shh shh, puppy. the door isn’t locked, remember?” you chuckle, reminding him of where the two of you were getting naughty at. it was so cute to see his eyes perk up at the sound of your voice. more specifically, whenever you called him puppy. he really did lived up to that nickname, looking like a cute pup as he bites down on his lip.

one of your hands travel up to his chest, opting to play with his perky nipple as he let out a loud squeal at that. his chest was always so sensitive, making him let out the most delicious whimpers each time you roll, pinch or tug at the hardened nub. being so mean to not slip your hands under the opening of his button down shirt at the front, playing with his nipples over the harsh fabrics of his clothes instead. he just wanted your touch on him to relieve the ache pooling in his belly, would you be so mean to deny him of his wishes?

apparently, you would. the hand on the soft fat of his ass moving to rest over his hip, helping him hump his cock on your thigh as your other hand continue their brutal assaults on his chest. poor gallagher, can't even form a single word as his pleads fall out of his swollen lips in a jumbled heap of mess. you could barely make out your own name from it. the words sounding so muddled up as if the bloodhound officer couldn't tell the difference between reality and his drug induced feelings.

"[n-naaammmeee]... sniff pleasheee fuunnghh fucck!! p-pleashh pleaash pleeaasshee♡︎!! ungh!! guuunnhg♥︎♥︎! p-pretty pleaaseee♡︎?" gallagher whines helplessly, stuffing his flushed face into the crook of your neck as his movements become more sloppy and frantic. he was so close to cumming already, it was just so cute to see how easily someone who is apparently always in control to crumble over with just a little bit of thigh riding. and some sprinkle of magic added to the mix.

in an attempt to muffle his loud moans and stuttering of his breath, he hastily lowers the collar of your own button down shirt just a little bit more. just enough so he could bite down over the old, healing bite mark of his so he could attempt to muffle his pathetic noises. you only coo out in a mocking tone, calling him by that nickname again as you tug on his nipple through his shirt as debouched cries of your name falls from his lips over and over like a mantra. gallagher sounded like one of those old, broken down radios that only replay a single song that sometimes is in the bar.

with a final thrust and a meek little bounce on your thigh, gallagher releases into his clothes. the magenta red hue of his pants turning a darker shade as his cum pools into the materials of his pants, staining it as some of the translucent liquid drips down onto your pants. you could just wash them out later.

"done with your little show, puppy?" you ask, the hand on his hip squeezing a bit to snap him out of his hazy mind. instead, you got a shake of his head, his stubble lightly tickling the skin of your neck in the process.

"wan' more... wan' you♥︎" he mumbles, delirious and drooling, as he humps his still hard cock against your crotch, indicating what he craved so desperately. maybe next time you should check the dosage you put into his drink if he's gonna be drugged this heavily by such a small amount.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Heya! I love your works! You always manage to turn tropes on their heads and make them anew! I was wondering, are you going to continue The Audit? I loved the dynamics of the Bats interacting with Danny, and Damian and Danny's relationship was downright delightful!

Damian rarely got nervous because of the tension in the room. It wasn't in his nature, having been born with Father's ability to keep a cool head.

But watching the stare-down between his Father and Uncle Daniel was very nerve-wracking. He was still determining who was winning at this point. Father had retreated fully into Batman, locking away all and any emotions behind his persona, which was bizarre to see on his maskless face.

Meanwhile, Uncle Daniel's emotions are displayed for the world to see in the heavy set of his jaw, the down pull of his lips, and the ice in his gaze.

Between the two men sat a pile of paper with various red markings. Damian hadn't gotten the chance to review the documents, but he knew there was a lot, and most of it had not been good. He likely failed the audit.

His uncle had stayed at Wayne Manor for three days, despite the many attempts by the Bats besides Damian to get him out. He had been silently observing everything that happened within the manor's walls. Uncle Daniel took his position as an observer in the literal sense.

He did not speak or interact with anyone besides Damian and often ended up scaring his adoptive siblings since they didn't notice him in the room. Damian personally thinks it was their own fault for being frightened. Obviously, they needed more training if they were unable to detect his uncle.

It's not like the man was hiding; he is good at entering rooms as silent as a ghost. Damian knew all other league-raised children could sense when Uncle Daniel was about, so really, people trained by Batman should have caught him miles away.

Todd and Cain were an honest disgrace for failing to notice Uncle Daniel until his pen clicked to write down what he observed. Damian attempted to improve things by presenting the best of Wayne Manor, but he knew the more he tried, the more Uncle Daniel used the red pen.

He only thought he did well on the audit by showing off his various animal friends. Uncle Daniel seemed very taken with Batcow the most, and after helping Damian milk her, he had finally switched the color on his multi-pen to green.

"I will not repeat myself again, Mr. Wayne," Uncle Daniel hissed, snapping Damian from his thoughts. Father's eyes narrowed.

"You deemed me unfit for my son."

"I deem you unfit for all your children."

Father's face remained impassive, but Damian knew him well enough to see the displeasure rolling off his body in waves. "I try my best for my children."

"Not nearly enough." Uncle Daniel reached for the papers, flipping through the handwritten notes to a page, taking on three lines. When Damian leaned over to read, Uncle Daniel's hand shot out and he pushed his head away.

"No, Little One. These are your sibling's personal files. You can not read them." It's mostly because he respects his uncle greatly that he did not throw a fit for being excluded from the conversation. And the fact that his uncle switched over to their native tongue.

It had been startling to realize how much he missed hearing his language. And how warm it made him feel to use it here in Gotham.

Father pulled the paperwork to him. His blue eyes rapidly moved over the words before he flipped to the next page, the next, and the next. Each time, his actions became more frantic until he reached the end.

Then he just stared at the audit his uncle had written with a strange blank look in his eyes. Damian felt very unnerved.

"Damian, go wait in your room," Father said softly, gaze still not lifting from the report.

"What? Father-"

"Now, Damian."

The boy turned to his uncle for help, but the other man merely smiled. "It's alright, Little One. Your father and I will settle this."

It was ludicrous to remove him from the room to discuss his future. Still, Damian knew he would not be able to convince the two most important men in his life of this, and while Uncle Daniel was a pacifist, it didn't mean he was weak in any way.

He would have Damian removed, and walking out with dignity was better. The young ninja huffed, strutting out of the room, down the hall, and up the main stairway to his bedroom. He ignored the various Wayne-adopted dolts that were trying to eavesdrop on the conversation.

None of them had learned that if Uncle Daniel did not want anyone hearing his conversations, then no one would hear a thing. This was one of the many mysteries surrounding Uncle Daniel.

No one in the current League of Assiaians knew much about the First Son, mainly because no one had lived as long as he and Grandfather, but they all knew he had extraordinary powers.

Drake is a fool who thinks he can record all of Uncle's abilities when he hasn't even scraped the suffering of everything Uncle Daniel could do.

And he never will. A nasty voice whispers in his mind. Damian opens his bedroom door, taking one final look around, trying to fight off the wave of sadness. He can not say his stay here had been easy, but he had grown attached to his life at Wayne Manor.

It's a foolish attachment. It didn't matter.

He had failed the audit, and Uncle Daniel would have him moved. Damian's eyes burned slightly, making him blink rapidly as he began packing his room.

He had been able to adjust to the sudden move from the league to Gotham; Damian could do it again. He was halfway done getting everything of value stored in his suitcases when his Father appeared at his door.

"Damian? What are you doing?" The man's voice sounds crushed, and Damian refuses to meet his gaze. He needs to leave through the Wayne Manor doors with his dignity.

"I am sure it's quite clear what I am doing, Father." He says, folding his shirts in the military style Pennyworth had shown him. It saved the most space, and the idea that he will never learn more little tricks from the age bullet makes the burn in his eyes stronger.

A few traitorous tears fall, landing on his blue-gry shirt and turning a few spots into a dark blue.

"I won't let him take you," Father promises, strutting towards Damian and hugging him. The child stiffens at once before more tears silently fall down his face.

"You can not stop Uncle. He can take all of us away."

"I know," Father admits. "That's why I have agreed to his terms."

"Terms?"

"Mr. Wayne and I have agreed on a trial period. He will go to therapy to improve his behavior and communication skills with his children. I will be living here and monitoring the progress. It will be one year." Uncle Daniel says suddenly, right next to their hug, his cold arms warping around Damian and overlapping Father's.

Father's face was spammed at the contact, but Damian had never felt so warm or protected.

He sinks into the hug, watching Uncle Daniel's warm, soft gaze stare down at him. Then, his gaze hardens into disgust as Father leans on Damian's hair. Uncle Daniel quickly leans onto the other side of Damian's skull, trying to comfort him.

Relief crashes into Damian. The audit was not over; he still had a year to prove to Uncle that he should live here with Father. He will not be moved.

But it will take a miracle for his father to change that drastically. His uncle would remove him unless Damian could show him that there was something here worth staying for.

He needed a plan, a goal, an appeal to Uncle Daniel's more gentle, idealistic views. But what? He could try to become more brotherly with his adoptive siblings. That could buy him a few more months.

I need something more. Something more binding. Damian thinks, pressing his face into the two men's arms. He does not need comfort like a child, but being held like this is.... pleasant.

"Oh! Family Group Hug!" Richard screams from the hallway before the man is sprinting into the room. Father makes a face but Uncle Daniel opens the hug, leaving a gap for Richard.

The man barrels in with a shout of glee, squeezing the three almost desperately. Damian would make a face, but he understands just how great Uncle Daniel's hugs can be, and added to the fact Father is not one to show displays of affection, this is Richard's best chance to-.

Wait.

That's it! Uncle's one weakness is being there for children who need him. Damian realizes, a plan forming in his mind, as Brown, Drake, and Cain run into the room. They pause at the sight before all three are invited into Uncle's hug. Brown leaps in for her hug, and Cain hesitantly approaches while Drake stays safely away, eyeing the group with distaste.

Uncle Daniel locks eyes with the teenager by the door, offering a sad smile, and Damian can see that he genuinely wants Drake in this hug but will not force him.

He respects Drake's boundaries because, to Uncle Daniel, adoption means family. He considers Drake to be Damian's brother, so he would treat him with the same care and love as he does for Damian.

Usually, that would bother him greatly, but Damian is too proud of himself for thinking of such a great plan.

There was no way Father would change enough in one year to satisfy Uncle into thinking he was a good fit for raising children. That's fine.

All Damian had to do in that year was convince Uncle to stay at Wayne Manor to do the child-raising himself. This way Damian could remain in Gotham, no matter the audit's results.

How does one trap a man in child-raising when none of the children are his biological? Simple. They get them married to someone with children, and Father just so happens to be without a paramour.

Damian has to get two men to fall in love in one year. It should be simple. With Uncle Daniel's protective core and Father's determination to save Gotham, there may be enough common ground between them to spark romance!

"I love you guys!" Richard crows, squeezing everyone he can reach.

"Hn," Father grunts, while Brown and Cain both inform Richard they care for him as well. Damian softly mutters, "I care for you too," which is much better than Father's.

Uncle's snaps.

"Your son said he loves you, but you don't even respond? You are a brute, Mr. Wayne."

"And you are a leech." Father hisses.

Damian winces. This will take a lot of work. Good thing he's never cowered from a challenge.

[chrisevansonly]

Some Extra Goodies

charles leclerc x female reader

summary: you are the master at sneaking things into the grocery kart, only this time…someone is watching

warnings: none very fluffy and domestic charles

a/n: thank you all for the cute little ideas i’m gonna work through them, i hope you enjoy these little blurbs!!

Grocery shopping was something you and Charles loved to do together, ever since you moved in together, and even when you both still lived in your respective homes; it was a tradition for you two almost.

Another thing you were good at was sneaking extras into the cart, whether it was your favourite candies or a little package of double chocolate chip cookies, luckily enough for you Charles never seemed to notice.

Until today.

“Chérie, what kind of apples do you want this week?”

You hummed for a second, having just sneakily added a package of cookies to the cart, your eyes then moving up to look at your fiancé who narrowed his stare onto you.

“Oh um let’s just get the honey crisp again! Those were really good last time”

Charles didn’t say anything before grabbing a few apples and placing them into your little fabric fruit bag, the bag you’d started to force him to use to avoid all the plastic use.

“Okay, we just need milk and then we are good to go”

Nodding you hooked your arm through Charles’s and walked towards the dairy section, not before subtly grabbing a pack of gummy bears and trying to hide them under the bushel of banana’s that had just been laid down minutes earlier.

It wasn’t until after you’d gotten the milk and some yogurt that Charles stopped by the cash register, a slight smirk on his face.

“So are we forgetting anything?” he asked softly

“Nope, everything is checked off on the list!”

“Really?”

You raised a brow looking at him and shrugged, showing him the crumpled up grocery list

“Yeah, see I checked it all off…is there something we’re forgetting?”

“Well I just noticed something funny…”

Charles kept his eyes on you, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he pulled out the cookies, gummy bears and the little box of truffles you’d slipped into the cart.

“It’s funny because I didn’t see these on the list…”

“What! Oh well how did they get in there! Must have flown off the shelf!”

Charles couldn’t hold his laugh back at your fake shock, it was something he loved about you, how you’d get so animated and pretend as if you didn’t do something: you both knew you most definitely did.

“So I didn’t see you sneakily place these in the cart over our trip here?”

“Charles! I think you’re seeing things, should we go see a doctor?”

Biting back a smile you tried hard not to crack nor laugh, but as Charles pulled you in for a hug and pressed a kiss to your forehead, you sighed, finally breaking.

“Alright…you caught me…i just wanted some sweets…”

“Well you didn’t have to sneak them mon amour..”

You shrugged

“It’s more fun that way! Plus you never notice!”

At the look on thé Monégasque’s face your mouth dropped open

“You’ve known?!”

“Every year since we started dating…”

Now it was your time to laugh, all of this time you’d thought he’d never noticed your additions to the weekly groceries, when in reality he’d known everytime for the past 5 years.

“Let’s just say don’t become a spy…you’re not very good at hiding things”

“Hey!”

Pressing one last kiss to your forehead the two of you made your way to the cash to check out and pack all of your things up to go home. Even if you weren’t a good spy, and Charles did know when you snuck extras in, he’d never say anything, in fact he loved that you did it.

Because half the time, he’d want the same sweets as you, he’d just never admit it….not now at least.

[solxamber]

Good morning/evening/ whenever you're reading this.

May I request Silver, Malleus, and Ace with someone who's like a sheep in wolfs clothing? Basically someone who seems intimidating and scary but is actually nice if that makes sense. Romantic or platonic is fine.

Malleus, Silver, Ace with a Sheep in Wolf's Clothing

hi! thank you for waiting, i hope this is what you wanted <3

Malleus Draconia

At first, Malleus is absolutely enchanted by the way you carry yourself. Your cool exterior, fierce glances, and aura of danger? He’s genuinely impressed. In his eyes, you’re practically royalty, strolling through campus with an air of mysterious authority that rivals his own.

But one evening, when the two of you are alone, he watches as you carefully kneel down to help a tiny creature—a shivering, injured bird, fallen from its nest. He’s speechless as you whisper gently to it, cooing softly as you tuck it into a makeshift cradle from your scarf.

“Ah, so even the fiercest can be kind,” he says, thoroughly charmed.

You look up, cheeks red. “What? No, I mean— I wasn’t… fierce,” you mutter, trying to explain away your rough side.

Malleus lets out a low chuckle, genuinely amused. “There’s no need to pretend with me, Child of Man. I find this side of you… endearing.” And with that, he offers his arm, as if escorting the most dignified person he’s ever met—like of course you’d be kind.

And every time he sees you after, he watches you just a little bit closer, hoping to catch more glimpses of the sweet, gentle heart beneath your “terrifying” façade.

Silver

Silver’s first impression? Oh, you were fierce, alright. With that intense stare and sharp wit, he thought you were the kind of person who could take on a horde of fire-breathing dragons without blinking.

But it doesn’t take him long to notice the little things: how you’re the first to offer help in a quiet, unassuming way. Or how you gave Grim half your lunch when he wouldn’t stop whining about his empty plate.

One day, he finally works up the courage to ask. “You’re… not like most people expect, are you?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Uh… how do you mean?”

He tilts his head thoughtfully. “You seem… gentle. Like someone who cares more than they show.” He says it simply, but with a warm smile.

“Oh! I—well, I guess…” You clear your throat, trying not to look too pleased. “Yeah, I try to be. Is that… weird?”

Silver chuckles softly, shaking his head. “Not at all. I think it’s admirable.” And with that, he goes back to his usual quiet self, though you notice he hangs around a bit more often, maybe just to keep an eye on you—or to be near you, enjoying the company of the sweetest “wolf” he’s ever met.

Ace Trappola

Ace was 100% convinced you were bad news when he first saw you. The way you stood, arms crossed and serious, maybe even a little cold, he thought for sure you were a total menace. So when he finds you one day, crouched down and helping a stray cat drink from a cup you’d brought, he actually does a double-take.

“You… feed stray animals?”

You look up, blushing furiously. “Uh… yeah? Why wouldn’t I?”

He bursts out laughing, clapping his hands. “Oh man, and here I thought you’d, like, fight a cat if it came too close!”

You roll your eyes, trying to act annoyed, but you can’t help but laugh, too. “Yeah, yeah, real funny.”

After that, Ace doesn’t let you live it down. He’ll pull you along when he sees a lost animal just to watch you fuss over it, teasing you the whole time. “Oh no, don’t let the fearsome ‘tough guy’ break out the baby voice again!”

But despite the endless teasing, he genuinely loves seeing you drop the act and show your soft side. And even if he won’t say it out loud, he thinks it’s pretty awesome having a friend as kind—and surprisingly tender—as you.

Masterlist

[sturnsmadl]

loverboy!chris headcannons!

loverboy!chris who built up the courage to slide in your dm's finally.

loverboy!chris who talked to you almost everyday.

"how are you?" "im filming tommorow." "u won't believe what i saw."

loverboy!chris who cut off every girl to focus on you.

loverboy!chris who always mentions flying you out.

"come onnnn. let me fly you out." "ill fly you out."

loverboy!chris who wants you to model for his brand.

"you tryna model?"

"dude i dont know how to model."

"so? you can try for me :)"

loverboy!chris who is always wanting to facetime.

"you tryna call?" "hop on facetime." "you awake?"

loverboy!chris who constantly talks about you to his brothers.

"and shes so fucking pretty."

"tell her that."

"can u shut the fuck up?"

loverboy!chris who really wants to meet you.

"you coming la anytime soon?"

"chris we spoke about this literally yesterday."

"pleaseeee?"

loverboy!chris who texts you like he's your boyfriend.

"good morning." "night babe." "you busy?"

loverboy!chris who makes sure your okay all the time.

"you okay? you looked really upset on ft last night."

"i was just tired :) thank you though."

"okay. you can always talk to me."

loverboy!chris who tells you everything.

"i literally just burped on matt."

"oh?"

"yeah."

loverboy!chris who finally flies you out to him.

"pack your bags ;)"

"omg. chris why did u do that?"

"i need to meet you."

loverboy!chris who gets really happy around you.

loverboy!chris who waited until you met to ask you to be his.

"can i be your boyfriend?"

"oh my- yes. yes.."

loverboy!chris who gets caught cuddling you on your first day meeting.

"shhh...shes sleeping."

"you met a few hours ago."

loverboy!chris who makes sure your ready for any advances.

"you sure?"

"yes chris just kiss me."

loverboy!chris who can't help himself and kisses you a lot more.

loverboy!chris who refuses to be away from you.

"where are you going?"

"to wash my hands.."

"ill come."

loverboy!chris who teaches you at top golf.

loverboy!chris who is so excited when he goes down on you.

"i've been waiting so long to do this."

"fuck..chris."

loverboy!chris who loves everything about you.

loverboy!chris who becomes very confident with you.

"i gotta fart."

"chris!"

loverboy!chris who showers with you to stay near you.

"want me to do your shampoo?"

"you could back up a bit."

"declined."

loverboy!chris who buys you everything you show interest in.

loverboy!chris who kisses your head while you sleep in his arms.

loverboy!chris who loves not sleeping alone.#

"i love that i get to hug you all night."

"its too hot to have you wrapped around me like a koala."

"thats just rude."

loverboy!chris who buys you stuffed animals that remind him of you.

loverboy!chris who sleeps on top of you.

"chris. wake up."

"what?"

"get off i need the bathroom."

"noooo"

loverboy!chris who leaves way too many marks.

"chris..i can't fucking cover them.."

"guess you'll have to show em off then huh?"

loverboy!chris who also loves pissing you off.

loverboy!chris who doesn't let you go bed mad at him.

"nuh uh. were not doing this. im sorry okay? whats wrong?"

loverboy!chris who cries when you find out your pregnant.

"your kidding.."

"no..are you happy..?"

"oh my god..yes.."

loverboy!chris who overbuys for the baby.

loverboy!chris who makes sure you know he's there at the birth.

"im here baby.. your doing so good."

loverboy!chris who takes a picture of him crying holding the baby when its first born.

loverboy!chris who treats his baby like glass.

"nick! careful."

"dude what..? i was just looking..jeez"

loverboy!chris who is so proud showing his brothers.

"look at my baby.."

"hes adorable chris."

"well done buddy."

loverboy!chris who makes sure your okay and provided for.

"you need any water? any food?"

"no im okay thank you.."

"a hug? i mean look what you just did. gave me a child. ur amazing."

a/n- these r quite far apart events!! this is also awful cause i rushed it smmmm!! i have so much school work to do :(

taglist! @bellaonthelow @muchloveforhacker @moonk1ss3d @sturnclouds @christophersgf @ellizzyy @fratbrochrisgf @phoenix062 @pixxiies @conspiracy-ash @blahbel668 @monroesturnns @gwennybenny @sturnobsessedwh0re @xoxo4chriss @pixie-sticks-are-good @wurlibydominicfike @anitahunt @ilusa @mattstrombolii

[diorchids]

I don't know if you accept applications but Luke Castellan jealous that ends in smut , I fantasize thanks to you.

LUKE CASTELLAN, LIKE THIS.

cw: jealous!luke, exes, obsessed, SWEARING, masturbation (f receiving)

a/n: of course i do! this is sorta kinda outta character but u see the vision?? also i cut this short because my brain started blanking.. if u want a part 2, js ask

nsfw ahead !

“she doesn’t even like him,” luke scoffed at your attempts to romance a counselor, doing all the things you’d tried on him. 

in reality, he was jealous. he’d been your ex for years before this, always standing on the sidelines each time you found a new guy. he rolled his eyes while nico said nothing. 

this was the least jealous part of him. you’d talked your friends' ears off about this new counselor, describing him in a way that made luke roll his eyes. he eavesdropped often. he’d followed you consistently, playing it off each time your eyes narrowed on him. “do you even like him? he’s not your type.” he stood behind you, feet planted. 

he tried to reason with you, making it clear he wasn’t fond of your sudden relationship. you walk away from him each time, telling him off with a few expletives. 

he fisted his cock furiously every night, sneaking out or sitting in the bathroom while you were with your new guy. he bucked his hips into his tight fist, visualizing your lips wrapped around his cockhead. 

he’d got you to his cabin finally, making sure nobody was around. especially “him.” he hugged you tight and relished in your scent. “missed you. stay here.” he begged you to stay with him often, enjoying your company. “can’t. gotta stay with my sister, luke.” you moved his hands away from your body, you weren't that easy. especially not for luke.

“you’re lying. you’ll go sneak off to the lake with the fuckin’ counselor, you know it.” he caught your wrist in his grip. “c’mon, stay with me,” eyes looking desperate as he looked down at you, grip tightening, you jerked your arm back in an attempt to free yourself before he says, “don’t be like that, i know you wanna stay.” his free hand trailed up your back slowly. crawling and creeping. 

“..maybe i could. she’ll – she’ll be fine.” you gave into him. his words perforating every voice in your head telling yourself you shouldn’t. “good, good,” he whispered softly into your ear, stooping to your ear. “movie?” 

you sat on his bed watching the movie he’d picked, a horror movie with terrible. his voice came from the bathroom, “you don’t even like him,” picking his feet up to walk to the bed, “what’s he got that i don’t?” standing firm between your legs, hunching to your face, hands resting on each of your thighs. 

your faces were inches apart, your breath hitched onto his face. you wanted to speak, but no words could explain how you felt, your tongue nervously running over your top lip.

he rose and brought his rough hand to your chin. he cradled it with such carefulness while his thumb ran over your lip. 

when he speaks now, his voice has an edge of menace, “mine, you know it. you’re my girl.” he was jealous. this did it, this finally let you know that he missed you. that he was obsessed.

his fingers curved around his bulge while you looked up at him with the same eyes that got him roped in. you stood to your feet, still being towered over him, speechless but managed to blurt out two words, “show me.” 

luke doesn’t hesitate. he leans in and grabs the back of your head, planting his lips on yours and pressing his body against yours. the kiss is aggressive and forceful, and his grip on the back of your head is tight. he’s clearly taking all his anger out on you in this kiss.

you try to keep up with his lips and hands roaming all over your body, practically stumbling while he pushes you into the wall. 

big hands fall straight to your hips, rubbing and pawing at them like a desperate animal. he pulls away for a split second, “fuck some sense into you, ‘kay?” 

you attempt to pull back, but he doesn’t let you pull away. he pulls you back to him relentlessly and keeps kissing you, this time even more aggressively. what was making him like this? so needy, so mean.

you lie on his chest while he begins to sloppily run his fingers over your cunt. he moves faster with each whine from your lips, taken over by anger and lust. “be quiet, gonna get us caught.” he whispered into your ear when you mewled too loud. 

his fingers move quickly on your clit, making you buck your hips into his hand helplessly. his forearm resting on your stomach pushes your body back down, the other hand freely digging its nail into your hips. “stop.” he grunted blatantly. 

you thrashed and moaned each time he played with your cunt, fingers moving back and forth as he dug his fingers deeply into your sides. his cock bucked up against your ass, twitching when you cried his name out or begged him to go faster, “can’t make you feel l-like this, huh?”

“that’s it, let go.” his breathing becomes ragged as he feels you starting to lose control. “feels good, real good. fu–uck.” he leans down slightly, his chest pressing against your back and hips grinding against yours.

you love his touch, begging for it again and again, “keep going, please.” tears fall from your eyes when you feel yourself about to cum. he continues his relentless assault on your senses, his fingers finding new ways to stimulate your sensitive spots through your underwear. “can’t make you cum, yeah?”

“cumming, gonna cum.” you taper off. you’re so dazed by his voice and touch that you barely even know what you’re saying. “give in to it, you’re doing so well,” his voice now laced with pure lust as he feels your body trembling and bucking in response to his touch. 

“i’ve got you, cum for me,” his soft side slowly seeping out, “let it wash over you.” he maintains a soothing tone, guiding you through your climax.

“cummin’..” you thrash and groan out, “give in,” he whispers encouragement as you climax, his body tensing as well in sync with yours, his erection throbbing and leaking pre-cum.

your legs shook before luke wrapped his arms around you, not in a comforting way. in a way that made you realize you're his again, pulling you closer to his chest.

“he can’t make you cum like that.”

it took everything in him not to fuck you right then and there.

[rationaliity]

gonna just drop a bulletpoint story out there because this aint a lot to go off of but you're soooo right, speak your truth i love you. you're putting two of my favorite things together, ratio and kitsune / foxes

♡ kitsune! ratio who got eight tails, some joke its one tail for each subject that he's graduated college with a master's degree for

♡ he's really is far more playful than people give him credit for, although in his own deadpan kind of way

♡ like, no, he doesn't outright make jokes, but he'll say stuff that goes over people's heads and then loudly exclaim " why do i even bother ?! " with a feigned annoyance, but it's okay because its ratio and it's cute

♡ he really takes the ' sly fox ' thing to heart. i mean, he already works in the shadows, sly is just a part of who he is

♡ but he is still a good person !! people may often assume that he's not because of how he acts and they attribute that to being a kitsune, but he really does care about humans

♡ especially one stupid little human who likes to visit the shrine he lives at a lot

♡ yeah, you caught his attention, but he would much rather die than admit that to you

♡ he doesn't say anything when you offer him the good tuna while he's in his fox form, even though it irks him a little bit because he's a fox, you moron, not a wild cat

♡ shouldn't you be trying to run away from him anyways ? why are you so brazen about walking up to a fox ? don't you know that they're wild animals and they can hurt you if they wanted to ?

♡ you're so lucky that he doesn't want to, otherwise it would be a problem on your side

♡ he eats the tuna every time you bring it for an offering, enjoying it even though he bites back a snarky comment every single time

♡ he's smart enough not to bite the hand that feeds him. his shrine is so far out into the woods that you're really the only one who comes to visit him from time to time, something that he was silently grateful for

♡ he's not tied to the shrine, he can leave if he wanted to, and he's often out and about doing whatever he wanted to, usually finding a hapless human like you and quietly guiding them towards a better solution

♡ but you liked to visit the shrine every wednesday, so he made sure he was there every wednesday

♡ why ? because he wanted to

♡ when he finally revealed his true form to you, it was purely to educate you on something stupid that you had done, at least that's what he told himself

♡ you'd gotten cut by the bramble out in the forest while making the trip to him, and so of course he had to show his true form to bandage your wounds, that was only proper of him

♡ while biting your ear off about not even worrying about the wound until you were at the shrine. what if it got infected, or worse ? you truly were a foolish human

♡ all eight of his tails are angrily flicking the ground below him as he patches you up the best he can, meanwhile berating you for your idiocy, something that he cant stand

♡ and you're just smiling like a moron, too, despite being injured ! he can't wrap his head around you !

♡ finally, once youre all taken care of, he has to ask why you offer him food, when he just looked like a regular fox to you at the shrine

♡ possibly the most annoying thing ever, you don't have a good answer. no profound understanding, just because you want to

♡ he's so frustrated with you he's sure he may pop a blood vessel, and you offer to leave, but he tells you to stay. it would've made the trip and your injury meaningless if you left so suddenly without staying for anything

♡ and when the sun begins to set, you find him... following you away from the shrine ?

♡ ask him what he's doing and he's just going to give you a simple answer, and if this should've been common knowledge to you all along, and you were an idiot for asking

♡ " of course, someone has to watch over you to make sure you don't accidentally get yourself killed. "

— ♡ rationaliity 2024

[jinuaei]

I can offer you an idea of ​​yandere alastor.. What would it be like if alastor as a child knew the reader... Like I imagine alastor as a child not knowing how to act properly like a human, and the reader as a good best friend helping him seems more human (and not because the child reader is scared of him) ... Actually, what would happen?

Wrote this instead of working on my finals hope you enjoyed it!

Yandere! Alastor x Childhood friend! Reader

Warning: Animal death, blood, its YANDERE

WC: ~1.5k

Charlie dragged the whole hotel for another ‘trust’ session, this time, she had the great idea for the sinners to share stories from when they were alive. Granted, some of them were eager to share, namely Nifty and Angel Dust, Husk would share some here or there, although it's mostly due to Charlie and Angel pushing him to. Alastor on the other hand kept quiet during the whole ordeal, until the topic of childhood friends came up.

“I had a childhood friend once, such a sweetheart. Wouldn't leave me alone to play with others!,” Alastor let the statement linger in the air, casually sipping on his coffee. 

The other members of the Hotel look aat him with mouths agape, shocked and surprised at the fact that THE Alastor, Radio Demon, Dealmaker, HAD FRIENDS? Moreover, a childhood friend?? Someone stayed friends with him since they were children???

“Don't look at me like I am incapable of having proper friendships, and no, you cannot ask them about me as a child because they're simply not a sinner! Oh imagine my disappointment when I didn't find them down here,” his eyes glazed over in slight rage as he thought about how you weren't here.

Very disappointing that I will never be able to hold my beloved again. What I would do to be able to chain them to my side once more…

“Well don't leave us hangin’, whose this sweetheart of you’s?,” the white spider interjected.

He tells them your name, sighing dreamily as he starts to reminisce about the times you were together when you were children.

You were the child of one of his momma's clients, a bubbly little thing, always eager to play with him regardless of how cold he is to you. 

His momma was your family's personal tailor, and by God were you a spoiled little thing. Every week you would ask for 2-3 outfits to be created for you, although it looked more like costumes than everyday wear but he doesn't complain, as long as your family treated him and his momma with respect.

Nonetheless, he refuses to be close to you, considering you as a bother, but of course, he would never admit that to you, lest he wants his momma to get in trouble. 

He hasn't always looked forward to when his momma brings him to your house, namely due to you clinging to him every time you meet. There's one thing in your mansion that he’s quite fond of though, once he manages to escape from your grasp, he sneaks into the woods behind your house, gazing at all the wildlife roaming around your property.

One time, he found an injured bird crying close to him, it tried to get away from him but he eventually caught it in a tight grip, it chirped and cried but Alastor just gripped tighter and tighter until, pop! 

Blood trailed down his hands and onto the forest floor below, unbeknownst to him, he had a huge grin on his face, too pleased with the mutilation of the poor bird. A gasp resonates behind him and he quickly drops the bird, face stilling at the fact that he got caught.

When he turned his body to you, your eyes were full of tears staring at his hands that he didn't bother to hide. He prepared himself to hunt you down to make sure you wouldn't tattle on his momma but your next words made him stop in place.

“Are you okay???” you rushed to his side, pulling out a handkerchief and started to wipe off the blood coating his stained hand.

In response, the child looked at you aghast, stupefied at the concern you were showing, marking yourself vulnerable to the predator towering over your much shorter build. He could kill you if he could, he can lie and tell your parents that a bear found both of you and killed you, that he tried to save you but was unable to. But then again… as you fret over him, a thought passes through his mind. 

You are too kind for your own good, just like momma. Don't worry I’ll protect you.

Alastor raises the now somewhat clean hand, and he notes how you didn't even flinch at it, and just looked at him with your wide, innocent eyes. The hand lowers to pat you on the head, ruffling your hair a little bit.

“I am fine, I tried to save a bird but it was too hurt to be saved,” he shows off the bird, face devoid of any emotions.

You frowned at it and suddenly went on your knees and started digging a grave with your hands.

Alastor furrowed his eyebrows and questioned what you were doing, you responded with, “I’m digging a grave for the birdie, I don't want them to die without a proper burial.”

The boy helped you after a few moments of silence. Once you were done, you clasped your hands together, covered in dirt and blood,  silently looking at him to do the same. Look at you, as a child of a rich man you shouldn't be on your knees covering yourself in filth, but perhaps he should indulge his angel for a little bit. 

As you started praying he couldn't help but let the bitterness consume his mind. God wouldn't care about frivolous things like this, prayers do nothing, if it did, how come he and his momma are still at the mercy of that monster of a man he calls his father?

“Amen.”

You offer your filthy hand to him, gazing at him with a smile that could rival the sun. Perhaps the only good thing that God has done, is sending down an angel for him to play with.

“You should smile more, you look very pretty,” he raises an eyebrow at that, startled by your bluntness. Admittedly, he can feel himself flush at your compliment.

“Do you like it when I smile?” he hums, taking your hand. Both of you started to walk back to your manor.

“I do! Mommy always said ‘you’re never fully dressed without a smile’ and that's why I always smile!”

“Then I'll smile a lot for you,” he tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace.

“You're doing it wrong! It's like this,” you show off your smile, toothy and wide.

He tries again and ultimately fails, you pout at him cutely when he failed, and he couldn't help but smile, genuinely smile at that. In response you shout out ‘like that!’, and start vibrating in excitement that you managed to make him smile.

It was almost nightfall when you eventually managed to get home safely, albeit covered in dirt and grime. What greeted you both were your father, stressed beyond belief, and his mother, on the verge of tears. They both rushed to you guys and hugged the both of you, fretting and scolding at how worried they are, they asked you and Alastor what happened and you, being the loudmouth you are, told them the story that you know.

Both adults are relieved to hear that you both are safe, they rushed you to clean yourselves up. Ever since then, Alastor has been looking forward to every visit they had to your house. And every single visit has been a learning moment for him, day by day he learns what you like and what you don't like. 

You like gentlemen? The next time you meet, he offers you his arm to hold. Do you like poetry? He memorizes your favourite poems to recite whenever you're bored. Do you like food and cooking? He begs his momma to teach him her infamous Jambalaya and other comfort foods to cook for you.

Alastor molded himself to become your ideal man, the most perfect gentleman that ever existed in your life. But then…

“Then what...? But then what??” Angel exclaimed when Alastor trailed off with a cliffhanger. Everyone leaned towards him, captivated by the story he shared. He smiles cryptically, but still doesn't respond.

“Oh well, it seems like it's almost supper time, I should work on it, wouldn't want to be late for dinner hmm?”

Everyone collectively groaned at the cliffhanger, they wanted to know what happened after, but they couldn't complain much lest they want to be part of Alastor's radio broadcast.

Alastor turns away from them, humming to himself as he walks towards where the kitchen is.

But then you had to die as a saint. You had to marry that disgusting excuse of a man you called your husband, and now he killed you. My beloved, was I not enough? Was I not perfect for you? You would have been safe if you were with me… Don't worry, I made sure that ‘husband’ of yours regretted ever hurting you. May this be an offering to my angel.

A haunting scream pierces through hell, amplified by the speakers scattered around the pride ring.

Support me here so I would be more likely to write more fics 🤭

[talktonytome]

"See, this is why we should have done separate parties," Eddie groans. "If I had known this was going to happen the whole time!" He raises his voice pointedly at Buck and Tommy who are very busy tasting each other's drinks-- off each other's mouths.

Buck pulls off Tommy's lips long enough to flip him the bird and smirks at him. "You did know this would happen so shut it, Diaz! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go dance with my super hot soon-to-be husband," he declares, pulling a giddy, tipsy Tommy by the hand, toward the dance floor. "Oh, if I were you, I wouldn't look at us because we will not be leaving room for Jesus, he throws back with a grin.

They had decided on a joint bachelor party because neither one of them wanted to be away from each other and so far, it's been a blast. They've been bar-hopping with all their friends and family, ensuring a great time wherever they went. This was their fourth bar of the night and it was almost criminal they had yet to dance properly.

To be fair, they had spent half the time making out-- sue him, his man looks incredibly hot in sinfully molded jeans and a slutty, loose shirt that shows half his chest. Tommy may have sucked his soul though his dick in the bathroom of the last bar and they knew they weren't fooling anyone, when they came out sporting matching dazed looks and Tommy's hair in all states of disarray from where Buck had gripped it.

Now, they're pressed together, Buck's back against Tommy's broad chest and his head thrown back on a sturdy shoulder. Tommy's hands are curled possessively on his hips and they move together sinuously. "Hmm, you feel good," he sighs contentedly.

Tommy uses the grip on his hips to push Buck's ass into his crotch, so he can feel where he's already half-hard. "So do you, feel what you do to me, baby," he growls into his ear.

"Tommy," he whines, turning in his arms, needing to kiss him immediately. Much like their kiss in the hospital, they crash into each other, lips sliding and nipping. He can taste the fruity alcohol they've been swapping all night and it pulls a low moan from his throat. He keeps a hand on the nape of Tommy's neck and the other on his waist.

Tommy grabs handfuls of his ass and echoes his own moan into Buck's mouth. It's only when he hears hushed laughs and whispers, a low whistle here and there that Buck remembers where they are. When he reluctantly pulls away, with a final nip, Tommy's reddened, spit-slick lips make him want to dive in all over again. He kinda doesn't want to get arrested for public indecency on his bachelor party night, though. Maybe.

"Hey," his whispers leaning in to press his forehead to Tommy's, pausing to catch his breath. "Wanna get out of here?"

Tommy pulls back a little to look him in the eyes. "Thought you'd never ask," he says with a wicked smile. He reaches for Buck's hand, tangling it with his own. "Ooo Eddie's gonna be so mad we ditched our own party."

Bucks laughs, turning to scan for their friends around the room. They all look like they're caught up talking to each other, including Eddie, who seems to be in an animated conversation with Lucy. "Psh, let him," he shrugs, rolling his eyes. "Now, let's go consummate this bachelor party." He's already pulling them to the exit. Their friends will understand their Irish goodbye.

"Isn't that for the wedding night?" Tommy asks, biting back a grin. "Besides, didn't we kinda do that in the bathroom already?"

"Potaytoe, puhtato," Buck huffs, waving his free arm. "Now do you or do you not want to go have sex with your very willing, very hot for you fiancé?"

"I want. Very much." Tommy chokes out.

"That's what I thought," Buck smirks, bringing a hand down to swat at his ass. "Hop to it."

He feels Tommy shudder against him. "Sir, yes, sir."