#it's literally been my blood sweat and tears in between working shifts

[coffeeghoulie]

I'd like to request a SwissTom/DewTher double date please. Up to you if it gets spicy or not

I am very much stretching the definition of a double date here, but I had an idea that I could not put down.

Contains a very, very, very small mention of a Rite Here Rite Now spoiler. But just in case.

divider by @ghuleh-recs <3

This is it, Dew thinks, settling back farther into his adirondack chair, condensation from his beer dripping over his fingertips. Aether's in the chair next to him, a bonfire glowing a few feet ahead of them on the lakeshore, and the air is comfortably warm as the sun sets behind the forest surrounding the Abbey. This is the reward at the end of it all, all of the work, piety, loyalty, and literal blood, sweat and tears Dew's put into the Ghost Project.

Rain's still in the lake, bickering playfully with Aurora and Sunshine while Cirrus and Cumulus wring water out of their hair, wrapping towels around each other as the air starts to cool. Mountain's ducked into the woods to tap into the stash of firewood he keeps hidden for pack nights like this. Papa- no, Frater- No. Copia's asleep in his own adirondack chair, paperback open and resting on his chest, readers askew on his nose.

Aether sits next to Dew, taking a big swig of his beer, lime wedge shoved down into the neck of the brown glass bottle. His other arm hangs off the side, reaching just enough to twine his pinkie with Dew's. The touch is grounding, and Dew shuts his eyes, swallows his own mouthful of beer. They don't need more than this, every word has already been spoken between them, engraved into their minds the same way they have matching scars in the crooks of their necks.

A few feet away from them, the relative quiet is broken by soft chatter, Swiss practically giggling at something he said that Dew couldn't hear, matching Aeon's laughter. The two of them have practically been glued together since the end of the Re-Imperatour, and tonight is no different. Swiss leans back in his chair, and Aeon sits sideways in his lap, legs dangling over the armrest. Their horns click as they lean in to whisper to each other.

Dew runs his tongue over his fangs at how cloyingly sweet the two of them are. "I don't think we were ever that bad, right, Aeth?"

Aether snorts, finishing his beer. "I couldn't tell you, darling. We weren't looking in on us from the outside. We might have been that bad."

Dew tugs at his pinkie. "Yeah, you were so fucking desperate once you got it through your thick fucking skull that I was into you."

Even in the firelight, Dew can see the way Aether rolls his eyes. "In my defense, I'd never dealt with water or fire courting rituals before I met you."

Swiss starts, turning over to them. "You talking courting rituals, big guy?" he laughs. Gold and purple eyes practically glow in the firelight.

"Nah, we're talking about how the two of you are practically one ghoul now," Dew cuts in, setting his empty beer bottle onto the ground beside his chair to pick up later. "Haven't seen you take a breath without each other since probably Los Angeles. No, wait, it was after Sydney."

Aeon laughs, shifting closer in Swiss's lap with a soft chuff. The way they nuzzle their cheek against Swiss's doesn't help their case. "Gettin' caught up on lost time, it had been a really long time since I'd been touched nice."

Dew bites the inside of his cheek. "Yeah, I know, voidling," he says softly. Remembers the scent of terror that'd permeated the bus in the early nights of the tour. Remembers the way Aeon had shook against him the first night they'd shared a bunk.

"But Swiss, pup?" Aether teases. "You've got a whole pack of ghouls wrapped around your finger who'd be more than happy to give you affection, and you choose him?"

"Hey!" Swiss protests, throwing a middle finger at Aether as he hauls Aeon impossibly closer with his other arm. Aether just laughs, gold fang glinting in the firelight.

"I'm just saying," Aether shrugs, standing with a groan. "Any of you want another beer?"

"Please, starshine," Dew says, his pinkie still entwined with Aether's. He reluctantly lets go, lets his arm fall back to his side.

"I'll pass," Aeon says, mismatched eyes shutting with a heaving sigh. The air's starting to get a little chilly, and Dew bets the voidling's using that as their excuse to press even closer against Swiss.

"Me too," Swiss says, and Aether cocks his head at him, lips quirked up in a smile.

"Alright," he says, rummaging through the half melted ice in the cooler to pull out two beers. He sets his down to pull out the bottle opener, passing the first one to Dew. The fire ghoul takes a long drink, raising the bottle in thanks. Aether settles back into his chair with his own, tucking the bottle caps in the pocket of his shorts.

"No, but seriously, you're going to give us all cavities with how sappy you're being," Dew says, even as he reaches over the edge of his armrest to take Aether's hand. "How's the dental at the infirmary again, Aeth?"

"Well, it's where I got this," he says, tapping a claw against his gold fang. "So we're in luck. You two can keep being ridiculously sweet."

"Come on," Aeon whines, tail flicking behind them and whacking against the legs of the chair. A log shifts in the fire, sending flickering orange embers into the darkening sky. "We're not that bad."

"There's no way in hell that you two weren't as touchy," Swiss cuts in.

Dew laughs, copper eyes narrowing into slits as he gestures with his beer bottle. "Well. Seeing as you weren't summoned until a year and a half after we started courting, you have no fucking ground to stand on. For all you know, we were perfectly chaste."

"The two of you?" Swiss laughs. "Chaste?"

A tall shape passes in front of them, silhouetted by the fire. Mountain puts another few logs onto the bonfire. He turns to face the pairs, hands on his hips. "As the only one in the pack who was here when the two of you finally got your shit together, I can say with absolute certainty that the two of you were way fucking worse, Aeth, Dew. How the two of you managed to make the entire bus reek of sex in that tiny fucking bunk, Satan only knows."

Dew sputters, glancing between him and Aether. Swiss cackles. The quintessence ghoul grins, raising his beer in a toast. "Nema to that."

Mountain pulls up another chair, ruffling Aeon's hair playfully, running a knuckle along Swiss's horn. "Now, no more bickering. I'll chaperone this little double date, don't worry."

The five of them burst into laughter. It's so loud it startles Copia awake, and they can't stop laughing long enough to explain or apologize.

[scribeofwinchesters]

Secrets and Lies: Chapter 11 - Rope

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 4,660

Summary: “You look at her like that again and I will make sure you die screaming."

Series Rating: Explicit/18+ TW: Rape/Non-con

Previous chapters: 

One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Sevenandahalf Eight Nine Ten

A/N: Definitely recommend catching up or re-reading before this chapter since we have some callbacks to chapter 1 here. Thank you all for showing me so much support after being gone for so long <3 This might be my personal favorite chapter yet :) Most of it's been written for years but had lots of rewrites and edits as I worked through it and came back to it again and again during my hiatus, so if there's anything that doesn't connect or track, please DM me so I can fix it! I've reread it like eight times, though, so I think we're good... I hope you all like it and if my story makes you feel something, reblogs, comments, asks, etc are very welcome <3 as always, link to AO3 if you prefer.

Tag list: @lauraashley93 @stoneyggirl2 @tiggytaylor @park-simphwa

You yanked hard on the door and sure enough, the door drug across the jamb and you had to give it a second hard pull to get it fully open. As soon as it was free Dean was right there, gun pointed ahead of him as he let his eyes adjust before quickly clearing the area to the left and the right. Just as planned you were directly behind him, gripping your gun but keeping it pointed safely toward the ground. 

The interior was completely dark except for rows and columns of sporadically blinking green and orange lights to the left. As Dean stepped in, you followed, remaining so close to him that you could literally feel your breath warming his neck. Dean should’ve known better than to exaggerate when telling you to do something that you didn’t want to do. He took another careful step inside and reached along the wall for a light switch. 

As he did, there was suddenly a soft tumble of footsteps and Dean deftly reached behind him to grip your arm and pull you along with him as he ducked to the right, pressing you safely between him and the wall. 

The shadowy form of a person was visible somewhere ahead of Dean, outlined by the blinking lights. It was wielding some kind of weapon that you couldn't make out in the darkness until it glinted in the light and you could see the flash of a long, sharp point. The figure darted into the darkness and from somewhere across the room you heard a deep, stifled scream. 

Dean gripped his gun with both hands and aimed it at each corner of the room, hoping to catch sight of some kind of movement. 

You shifted your handgun to one hand and silently pulled your silver blade from its holster and gripped it tightly. You scrapped it along the wall, using it’s extra length to find your mark. After a short moment it caught on the switch and the room was flooded with a dull, fluorescent haze; the bulbs flickered and buzzed faintly before steadying on. 

Momentarily blinded by the sudden light, you narrowed your eyes and squinted as they adjusted.

You peeked around Dean as you sheathed your blade. Your stomach dropped. 

There, in the middle of the room, was Sam. He was tied up in a chair, ropes tight around his wrists and ankles and mouth. He’d been stripped down to nothing but his boxers and socks and there was blood splattered on the ground beneath him. Sam had a black eye and a horrific mixture of blood and sweat dripped from his forehead. He had a handful of cuts and gashes across his chest. He caught sight of you and your eyes locked together. The marble pinged against your insides again as you saw Sam’s bloodshot eyes glisten with tears. Your heart caught in your throat and you could feel yourself forgetting to breathe. 

Sam glanced to his left, drawing your eyes away from him.

You froze. 

Standing in the dark corner, just a few steps away from Sam, was the last thing you expected to see...

It was...

you? 

Not current you... but clean, moisturized, fresh-faced, hair-brushed-and-styled-with-the-perfect-flounce-you-could-never-quite-achieve-despite-many-frustrating-hours-spent-fussing-over-it… you.

It was fully dressed in clothes that looked like something you’d wear if you had time to put thought into your outfits, and to top it off, she was wearing Sam’s wellworn green jacket and a blue flannel and something about that made your stomach churn. It held a long, jagged blade comfortably in it’s outstretched arm as it grinned and you pulled yourself back behind Dean as you tried to catch your breath. 

“ ‘Bout time you guys joined the party,” it said cheerfully and took a careful step toward Sam. It was bizarre hearing your voice come from another person… thing… it. 

“That’s close enough,” Dean warned as he pointed his gun at the shifter. 

“Oh, Dean,” it said as it suddenly dropped and rolled skillfully behind Sam. Dean fired his gun at the movement but missed the target, leaving a small smoking circle in the machinery. You jerked at the sudden sound and took a moment before taking in a deep, stabalizing breath. 

“Come on, after the last few days, Dean, stuck at home with… me,” it smirked as it slowly crouched over Sam and held the jagged blade to Sam’s throat.  “The sad, pathetic thing you rescued from purgatory,” she mocked with an exaggerated pout. “Listening to her whining, holding her as she cried, falling asleep on the couch as you held her… we both know you were dying to put a bullet in both of your heads just to get the pathetic misery to end.” 

You studied the back of Dean’s head, imagining the furious expression flashing across his face.

The shifter pulled the edge of  it’s blade through Sam’s sweat-slicked hair, causing the tip to graze against his check and scalp, just light enough to not break the skin. Sam flinched reflexivly and squeezed his eyes shut. The shifter sneered at Dean for a moment before catching your eyes as you peaked over Dean’s shoulder. 

It smiled and narrowed its eyes at you as it licked it’s tongue across it’s teeth. “Looking a little rough there, sister. My brother got a few good hits in at least. Tell me, how far did he get before you noticed? One finger? Two? Balls deep?” It laughed. 

“Stop it,” Dean seethed. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” the shifter sneered as it pressed the blade ever so slightly against Sam’s throat, drawing beads of blood to the surface. Sam winced and you felt the rage building inside of you. It took every ounce of control you had to stay put. 

You locked eyes with Sam as tears spilled from his wide, horror-filled eyes. The throbbing ache in your cheek was a painful reminder of earlier that night and you watched as his eyes drifted over it. 

The shifter crouched down again and licked Sam’s ear while looking at you. “Am I doing it right?” it asked before brushing your… its fingers through Sam’s hair and jostling his head around simply for the sake of reminding you who was in charge. 

“That’s what you asked the first time you put Sammy’s cock in your mouth, isn’t it?” it drawled right into his ear, its eyes still locked on you. 

Your heart raced, and you squeezed your eyes shut as the throbbing ache in your cheek worsened from your rapid pulse. You rested a palm against Dean’s shoulder to steady yourself as you felt yourself losing balance. All you could think about was rage. But for Sam’s sake you couldn’t let its taunts get the better of you. That was easier said than done. 

“You look at her like that again and I will make sure you die screaming,” Dean bellowed as he stepped fully in front of you, blocking you completely from the shifters view and sadly, from Sam. “Your brother went quick. Couple silver bullets and he was down. When I’m done with you you’ll be begging for a bullet, do you hear me?” 

You heard a brief squelching sound and something heavy and wet spilled to the ground.

“I needed to catch up,” Sam sneered. 

But it wasn’t Sam. It was the shifter, transformed now, into Sam.

“Mmmm, that’s some sweet, sweet pain and guilt, Sammy,” the shifter hummed. “Delicious..."

It pressed the knife further into Sam’s neck. Sam grimaced as the blood dribbled down his neck. All you could hear was Sam grunting in pain. 

“Your gun,” it said.

Dean dropped the gun, letting it swing from his pointer finger as he spread his arms.

“Cut the crap. What do you want?” Dean asked.

“I told him not to go after you Winchester’s,” it spat. “But he insisted.”

“Refresh my memory, would ya? What did we do to you anyway? We haven’t hunted a shifter in years.” 

You could hear Sam breathing rapidly as he tried and failed to catch his breath. 

“Charisse.” 

Dean hesitated. “Who the fuck is Charisse,” he asked under his breath. 

“The witch… from the other day… my last hunt with Sam,” you whispered. 

Dean gave you a small nod without breaking eye contact with the shifter. 

“Since when do shifters and witches work together?” Dean asked. 

“Please, Dean… we both know you don’t care,” the shifter replied. 

Dean shrugged again. “Eh… normally you’d be right, I don’t really care what you monsters get up to when you’re not hurting people. But a witch and shifters working together? Well, that’s not something I’ve ever seen before.” 

“Charisse was like a mother to us,” the shifter said as he stood, still holding the blade to Sam’s throat. “She fed us and took care of us and gave us advice about moving through the world as monsters that people like us never get. And in return we helped her… well, pay the bills…,” 

“So you were thieves,” Dean said. 

You silently crouched and glanced around Dean, desperate for a view. You caught sight of the shifter standing above Sam. The grip on its blade had loosened as it spoke. The top of Sam’s head reached just beneath the neck of the shifter but in Sam’s frame, with his broad shoulders, there was a clear shot; a small shot, but a clear one. 

As you stood, hidden behind Dean, and his open jacket which added several inches to his frame, you took advantage of the cover to check that the safety on your gun was released. 

“Don’t move,” you whispered so that only Dean could hear you. 

“So mommy dearest bites the big one and your brother decides to get revenge,,” Dean vamped to keep the shifter distracted. “You both came to this town and got up to no good in order to draw out Sam. But brother got dead and now it all rests on your shoulders. Did I miss anything?” Dean asked, taunting the shifter. 

As he spoke you slowly, carefully and silently turned so that your back was to Dean’s and aimed your gun forward, ignoring the throbbing in your cheek. You were going to have to move quickly or the shifter would get the drop and… and… well, that didn’t matter because it wasn’t going to happen. Your took a deep, steadying breath. 

As the shifter began to reply you swiftly and carefully spun around on one foot, ready to aim your gun at the shifter’s head.

It looked and sounded every bit like Sam and if it weren’t for the fact that he was sitting right there that may have given you pause. You aimed and without a whisper of hesitation, fired off a single silver round into its head. It dropped the blade, sending it cascading across Sam’s front before clattering to the ground. The shifter stumbled backwards and Dean made a break for it, crossing the room in several long strides as you dropped your gun and sprinted to Sam.

Dean pinned the shifter down with his knee digging into its back as he pulled its arms behind its back and bound them tightly at the wrists. It was unnecessary, though, it was as dead as the one you’d left at the bunker.

“Nice shot,” Dean said as he examined the thing. For the second time in just a few hours Dean had to deal with the lifeless and bloodied body of his brother.

You stood over Sam and leaned over him, your fingers trembled with adrenaline as you fumbled with the knot on the rope between Sam’s lips.

“Y/n,” Sam whispered between his panicked breaths the second his mouth was free. You crouched down in front of him as you deftly cut the ropes off his wrists and ankles, hardly pulling your eyes away from his for more than half a second.

You looked him over as he stood carefully. In addition to the blackeye he was bruised on his thighs and abdomen and there were deep, red rashes around his wrists and ankles. Sam’s eyes hung on you but he wasn’t looking into your eyes. He was examining you, studying whatever it was that Dean saw in the car earlier that made him wince. 

Without even thinking, you found yourself pulling your silver blade from your boot. “I’m… I’m sorry,” you said. “But I have to.” 

He nodded and pulled his hand into a fist as he held his arm out. Sam watched your eyes as you swiped the blade across his arm, drawing out a thin trail of blood. He winced and inhaled sharply, all the while never peeling his eyes away from you. 

You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. It was Sam. It was really Sam. You dropped your blade to the ground with a clatter.

While you wanted nothing more than to leap into his arms and wrap yourself around him, to cling to him, you were still unsure of everything. You stopped short of a hug and instead stood there like an idiot, frozen, as you stared up at him. You had to remind yourself to breathe, again. He stared down at you, holding your gaze now, before briefly glancing to the side of your face and back. 

Dean picked up your gun and blade before giving the room a quick once-over. The electronic components, flashing green and orange, were kept to one side, opposite of the desk.

Sam caught your eyes lingering on the pile of rope and the blood spatters around the chair and pulled you to him. You wrapped your arms around his waist and inhaled deeply as he rested his chin on the top of your head. “I’m okay,” he whispered. 

You felt your insides return as he held you. Your heart and lungs and thoughts all fell back into place, stopping the pinging marble in its tracks as the walls crumbled. The marble, with one last ping, lodged into your heart. You were whole again… mostly.

“God, Sam,” you said, fighting back your sobs. “I… I-” 

He brushed his hands over your hair and tenderly shushed you. “I’m here,” he said softly.

“Is it dead?” Sam asked Dean, his tone hard as he continued stroking his palms carefully over you. You caught Dean giving Sam a small, silent nod as you pulled away, ready to not spend another second in this place. Dean handed you your gun and knife which you quickly put away.

Dean stood to the side of the door, ushering you and Sam out before flipping the light switch and pushing the door shut behind him. 

 Dean lead you all back to the Impala, his eyes scanned the area like clockwork as you all made a beeline for the car. You climbed into the front seat, the safety of the Impala enveloping you as you finally relaxed and your shoulders dropped. Dean quickly looked around as Sam climbed in the back. Dean started up the engine, it’s gentle rumble surely waking at least one person in the nearby houses. 

In less than fifteen minutes Dean had you all back at the motel. 

“We’re not going back to the bunker?” Sam asked. 

Dean shook his head and glanced at Sam in the rearview mirror. “We need Cass to check the warding. It’s not safe.” 

Sam looked at you and then back at Dean. “The… the bunker?” 

Sam shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He wanted to know more but the hesitation from you and Dean to say more made him scared to ask. He slowly opened his eyes and his gaze fell upon you and you could see in the rearview mirror the tears glistening in his eyes again. You had never seen him look so vulnerable: half-naked, no weapon, fighting back tears. You wanted to kill the shifter all over again. You bit at the inside of your lip, worried that it might start to dawn on him what had happened. It’s not that you didn’t want him to know. You just weren’t ready to deal with it. And as long as Sam didn’t know, you could almost pretend that it hadn’t happened. Almost.

Dean nodded curtly as he cut the engine and climbed out of the car. Sam’s eyes narrowed as he stared distantly ahead. 

“Stay here,” he said to Sam as you climbed out of the car, too. You raised an eyebrow to Dean. “I’ll be right back,” he added to Sam.

Dean, ever the over-protector, was now made even worse. He followed you to the door and once again, checked the entire place over. 

“Dean,” you sighed. 

“Not up for debate,” he said, repeating himself from earlier, his eyes still studying every inch of the room as he avoided your gaze.

“I’m not saying you can’t be protective but you’re not my security guard. There isn’t a monster in every closet,” you said. 

 His nostrils flared as he stood in the doorway, silent for a moment, before turning back to you. “What happened… tonight,” he inhaled deeply, “...will never happen again. I won’t let it,” he finished as he swallowed hard. “Not even for a single second will I let you go through something even remotely close to that ever again.” 

You stood there in the middle of the room, too shattered and exhausted to argue with him. This was exactly what you had been trying to avoid that night all that time ago when Cass manipulated Sam’s memory. 

“What are you gonna tell him?” you asked as you choked back your emotions. 

“Enough to catch him up,” Dean said as he turned away and headed back to the Impala.

He left the motel door open and climbed back into the Impala. Sam watched you from the backseat. You locked eyes for a brief second as Dean twisted to face Sam and rested his arm on the backseat. 

You stepped away from his line of sight, not prepared to handle what Sam’s reaction might be. As they talked, you kicked off your boots and jeans and slipped out of your flannel before climbing into the already unmade bed, leaving the fresh bed for Dean. You left half the bed for Sam, though you weren’t sure if he’d take it. Sure, he’d been emotional and comforted you, that still didn’t mean he’d forgiven you. 

You cozied up under the blankets and shut your eyes, desperate to fall asleep, though you weren’t sure what you’d find when you got there. More importantly, however, if you were asleep then you didn’t have to talk with Sam. You inhaled deeply as you nestled your face into the pillow. It smelled faintly like Sam and the longing for him slowly began building back up inside of you. You felt a single tear slip down, leaving a wet circle on the fabric. 

Dean’s booted stomps sounded as he crossed the threshold, followed by Sam’s silent, shoeless scuffles. You half wondered if he’d brought any other shoes with him but that was a problem for tomorrow. One of them flipped the lights off. Sam paused at the edge of the bed for a moment and you could hear him quietly breathing as he watched you. A beat passed before he continued to the bathroom and shut the door. Dean pulled the string on his bedside lamp, providing him with enough light so that he could walk about the room but not disturb you. Seconds later you heard the pipes squeak and water rushing as Sam turned on the shower. 

You carefully opened one eye just a sliver and watched as Dean grabbed the ice bucket from the dinette table and left, this time pulling the door quietly shut behind him. He returned moments later. You listened as the locks clicked and Dean slid the chain lock into place. He sat in the dinette chair and peeled open one of the empty plastic bucket liners. He scooped ice into it and tied a knot at the top, sealing it closed. The chair quietly scraped across the floor as he stood up and pushed it back. You could feel his presence looming over you, blocking out the light of his lamp on the other side of the room.

“I know you’re not asleep,” he whispered. 

You huffed and gently bit at your lip before opening your eyes. “What gave me away?” 

“Scooch,” he said. You turned carefully and painfully onto your back and pushed yourself back just enough for him to sit beside you on the bed.

As the adrenaline began to wear off, the pain of the near suffocation you'd endured back at the bunker was beginning to set in. Your chest ached deep down to the bottom of your lungs and you kept your breath short to avoid the sharp, stabbing pain that came when you inhaled too deeply.

Dean lifted the ice bag and slowly pressed the bag against the right side of your face, eliciting a hiss from you as it stung your tender skin. You reached up and placed your hand over Dean’s who pulled his away, letting you take over. You held it there as he watched you. 

“I’m gonna get the first aid kit,” he said as he stood back up.

“What for?” you asked. 

“Um, your face,” Dean said as he wrinkled his brows.

“Is it that bad?” you asked as he squatted down to pull it from one of the side pockets of his bag. 

“You haven’t looked?” he asked as he made his way back over to you and sat down. You shook your head slightly, the ice clinking along to each movement. He studied your expression before nodding. He kicked his boots off and leaned over. You let your hand fall as he pulled the ice bag back. 

“Can’t see,” he muttered as he reached over and pulled the string of your bedside lamp, illuminating your side of the room. He straightened up and zipped open the first aid kit to pull several items out. 

You glanced down and watched as Dean fussed over his tools. A little bottle of clear liquid caught your eye and inexplicably made your stomach drop.

“Not rubbing alcohol, Dean… please,” you said quietly, shocked at yourself as tears stung the corner of your eyes. You just couldn’t… hurt, anymore. Not tonight. You’d had enough.

“Don’t be a baby,” he said before catching your pained expression. “Sorry,” he whispered quickly. “It’s not alcohol,” he said, shaking the little bottle. “It’s like antiseptic or something.” He shrugged. 

You took a deep breath and looked away. Dean took that as his sign to continue. “Can you sit up a little?” he asked. 

You pushed yourself up and jutted your head forward. He held the washcloth beneath the cut. 

“Look up,” he said. You did as he asked. He squeezed the bottle’s liquid across your cheek, into your cut, cleansing it. The washcloth caught most of the runoff, but some did escape and run down your neck, slicking it. He pulled the washcloth away and refolded it to get to a dry edge and dabbed it gently along your check. You stared at a random spot on the wall as he worked. He returned the bottle to the pouch and pulled out an ointment tube which he squeezed onto a cotton swab and swiped it across your cut as gently as he could manage. 

“This is deep, y/n. I’m gonna have to stitch it in the morning,” he said as he pulled the wound tightly shut with two butterfly bandages. You grimaced at the thought.  

“Done,” he said with a gentle smile as he returned everything to the kit and zipped it up. 

The roar of the shower cut off and there was the familiar scrape of the shower hooks across the curtain rod as Sam exited the shower.

“Thanks,” you wheezed as you looked down and fiddled with your fingers. 

Dean cleared his throat. “Can I… do you need anything?” 

You shrugged as you locked eyes with him. “Water, I guess? And every breath hurts from when... And sleep, but… I’m also, I mean, I’m a little afraid… to sleep. Don’t know what I’ll…,” you trailed off. 

Dean glanced away and seemed to think for a moment. He left your side only to quickly return with the stainless steel water jug and a plastic cup from the motel. He filled it with water and handed it to you. As you sipped the water he returned to the first aid kit and pulled out a small plastic bag with two large white pills in it. Dean handed them to you and you let them roll over in your palm as you tried to guess what they were. 

“They’ll conk you out,” he explained. “And Sam and I will be right here the entire time. You don’t have to worry,” he assured you. 

“I never worry about that,” you said, giving him a lopsided smile. 

He frowned and took a deep breath. You wanted to tell him not to do that, that he had done everything he could and what happened wasn’t his fault, but you just didn’t have the energy. You swallowed the pills and finished the water. Dean refilled the cup and set it on the bedside table. You shifted onto your side, your injured cheek faced up, and got comfortable under the covers as Dean turned the lamp back off. He picked up the bag of ice and placed it gently back over your cheek. 

You were just beginning to drift off when you heard the bathroom door open followed by the quiet footsteps of Sam making his way to his bag to rummage for clean clothes. He returned moments later and climbed into bed beside you. It was quiet for a moment but you could feel his presence as he leaned over you, examining your face in the pale light.

“Did I miss anything?” he whispered to Dean.

“Just bandaged her up a little,” Dean whispered from his bed. “And gave her the good stuff to help her sleep.” 

“Maybe I should go to a pharmacy and get some real ice packs,” Sam thought aloud. 

“It’s four in the morning. There’s nothing open for over a hundred miles,” Dean reminded him. 

“I’m sure I could break into a doctor's office or something in this Podunk town,” Sam said. The bed creaked as he leaned back against his pillow. 

“Okay, simmer down, John Dillinger,” Dean teased. “It wouldn’t make enough of a difference to be worth it. Gonna have to stitch it up in the morning regardless. What about you? You good?"

"Yeah," Sam whispered. "Nothing deeper than surface level."

You wanted to move, to curve to Sam, or ask him to hold you, but the drugs Dean gave you were strong and were quickly taking over every muscle in your body, including your tongue and lips, and thankfully your aching lungs.

“Get some sleep, Sammy,” Dean whispered. Dean’s bed creaked and you slipped your eyes open a crack to see him turning onto his side, squeezing his pillow against his face. He hadn’t even bothered to change out of his jeans and flannel. You couldn’t see it but knowing Dean the hand under his pillow was resting over his Colt. He reached over and turned off the bedside lamp. 

Sam leaned over in the darkness and pressed his lips gently to your temple. You sighed as you fought tooth and nail against the drugs for more seconds with Sam, scared that in the morning, or when you were better, Sam would be gone again. Your body was so heavy you felt like you were going to sink into the mattress.

He pushed toward you, pressing his body carefully against yours and found your hand. He grasped it in his and with everything you had left, before giving into the heaviness and slipping under, you squeezed it, desperate to let him know you were there and aware and so grateful for every moment with him. He laced his fingers with yours and pulled your hand along with his to your heart, wrapping you in him like you were a gift and he was the bow. 

The message had been received. 

EDIT: Chapter 12

[angsty-twihardxx]

YOU ARE THE REASON | T. MILLER

Summary: Tommy wants to leave Boston, wants to find somewhere better for the two of you. You think its too risky. Will you come to an agreement? Or maybe something tragic will happen. Maybe it wont *shrugs shoulders menacingly

Warnings: 18+ mature themes, eventual violence, blood, general horrible post apocalyptic themes. Sorry I suck at these.

                                          Tommy Miller x reader 

A/N: I’m in love with this man and literally had this idea pop into my brain like an hour ago (so obviously its not edited. sorry in advanced for my baby brain)

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

“You seriously want to stay here? In Boston with FEDRA up our ass every second of the day?”

“I didn’t say that Tommy I-”

“I want something better for us, better than this!” His arms raise frenetically, emphasising the less-than-ideal living situation the two of you currently found yourself in. “And I know that. I would love to be back in our old house and not in this shithole, but we both know that’s not going to happen. Especially because I know what’s out there.” Your arm extended to the adjacent window, the glooming grey cement wall that kept the infected out. Or more accurately kept you inside. 

This was a common argument the two of you had for the past few months. Tommy wanted to leave the QZ hearing about the fireflies and their endeavour to try and find a cure, to fix everything. You scoff at the thought, it was naive to think that after two decades this could all be fixed. 

But Tommy believed it, he was like this before the infection took over everyone’s lives, he had always wanted something better for himself, his family– you. And you had always supported his ideas, but that’s all they were ideas

You were a nurse before the outbreak, working a late shift that very night. You still had nightmares of all the people that came into the ER begging for you to help them. But you couldn’t, even now with more of an understanding of the mutation. All the research and experimentation you did as a doctor for FEDRA, led you to the realisation that there was absolutely nothing you could do. But Tommy wouldn’t listen, couldn’t believe that there was nothing that could be done. 

“Are you seriously willing to risk everything for some half promise of a cure that we know will never happen!” 

His eyes widened as you spoke, it was never like you to get so angry let alone turn him down like that. Even in the worst of arguments you never lost your temper. And if he was being honest, he thought you sounded a whole lot like his older brother. Joel also thought the same as you when it came to his plan to join the fireflies, or when he heard about settlements and wanted to go to them. 

It felt like you spent so much time trying to get him to just stay with you here in the Boston QZ as he would rather be anywhere than here with you. Like he was a kite that was slowly going higher into the sky that you couldn’t hold the string that kept him down with you here on earth. 

It felt like you were losing him.

“Christ Y/N, I’m trying to do this for us!” This time he shouted, the vein in his neck protruding as he did so. His shoulder-length hair stuck to the thin layer of sweat that clung to his head. “Don't lie to me Tommy, if you want to leave so bad and go chase this fantasy then be my guest.” You sighed, finally saying what had been on your mind for a while now. You couldn’t join him, and you certainly couldn’t keep him here. 

Tears welled up in your eyes as you kept them on the floor, not daring to bring them to look at him. “That really what you want?” His voice was deep, his Texan accent rolled heavy off the tongue. You didn’t need to look up at him to imagine the deep crease forming in between his brow, his usual soft chocolate eyes were nearly black as he seethed in front of you. His knuckles whitened as his fists formed tighter with every passing second. He just couldn’t believe that you could so easily throw over twenty years together away like that, why couldn’t you just understand? 

You eventually look up and meet his gaze, he looked on the verge of tears himself. Without knowing how to answer you simply shrugged, was this something you wanted? “I don’t know what else to say to make you stay, you obviously want to leave so I’m giving you an out.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, you swore at your body for portraying you so easily. 

“Oh sweetheart.” He cooed, his features softening as soon as he saw the tears fall onto your cheek. Pulling your hand away from your face he pulled you into his chest, enveloping your frame in his arms. It broke his heart thinking that after so long together you thought he wasn’t happy with you. He propped his chin on the top of your head as he slowly swayed you side to side, knowing the best way to comfort you. 

“You are the reason I stay, the reason I try so damn hard to stay alive.” He whispered into your hair. “I just want something normal for us, somewhere safe where we can live and not just survive.” 

This was your Tommy, soft, warm and gentle. Being in the war, and joining a group of smugglers were all the types of things to make a man rough around the edges. You knew so many men that had the same experiences that shut the world out, leaving no room for anything that wasn’t cold. But not Tommy, he was still as soft and sweet as the day you met him.

Not long after you graduated from college with your nursing degree, you landed a job working at a hospital in Austin. And it turned out that Tommy was a bit of a klutz because he turned out to be a pretty frequent patient for you. 

Almost too frequent.

But little did he know, you were extremely quick to figure out his little game. Getting injured at work so you could patch him up while he flirted with you relentlessly. 

“Back again Mr Miller? If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were missing me?” You smirked at him as he walked in with Joel trailing in behind him. The face of an older brother that got dragged in because of Tommy’s antics. You rolled your eyes playfully at the older brother, feeling nothing but sympathy for him. “I dunno, I must be accident-prone these days.” He’d shrug at you like he was just as surprised as you. Joel grumbled something incoherent behind him as you got to work looking at this supposed ‘nail gun’ injury. 

You would always play along with him, making your shift somewhat entertaining. Pretending to be worried, secretly delighting in the way he would flirt with so much confidence. But today you decided to playback, there was just something about the younger Miller. Something that just drew you in.

“Well I can't seem to see anything but maybe just to be safe we should give you a shot.” All colour and humour disappeared from his face then. You couldn’t help but smirk at that, very proud of yourself.

You leaned in close enough so that you could smell his aftershave, the smell of his cigarettes still lingered on his clothes. “Or how about if you want to spend time with me you could actually ask me on a date?” 

To which he did, very quickly. Then just as quickly as you had joined his tiny little family, Joel and Sarah loved you. Joel would claim you kept him out of his hair, which would always be met back with a snide remark from Tommy. After four happy years together he had gotten down on one knee and asked you to marry him, “I can’t think of anyone else I would want to spend the rest of my life with.” 

And he kept that promise, having him in your life was what made it somewhat tolerable in this post-apocalyptic world. You would be lying if you said you never thought about having a normal life with him, having a family and growing old together. That was what the two of you wanted for yourselves before the outbreak. 

“What’dya say sweetheart? Find somewhere to grow old together?”

“I think I would like that.” 

“You serious baby?” His hands moved quickly to cup your face as if this was a figment of his imagination. A wide smile grew on his face and all you could do was smile back. Maybe if it made him this happy, there was no way this could go badly. Large hands still cradling your face he pulled you in, your lips meeting his. 

[beautifulpersonpeach]

OMG BPP! I just heard (and counted) that there are 13 'set me free's when the song concludes!! I'm,,, what?! I mean, it must not be a coincidence, right? I'm so delulu right now, can't think straight. Oh,,,, Jimin,,,,,,,😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 P.S. Thanks for sharing your reaction with us. It's always a delight to hear your thoughts (and know that someone is definitely freaking out with me, barely alive)

*

Ask 2:

From magnum ice cream to universal music Brazil... everyone be tweeting about his solo.

*

Ask 3: I think the dichotomy between the autotune and his regular voice and the "fuck all your opps" being in quotes (its one of the two lines quoted in the lyrics) is meant to convey Jimin having a conversation with himself that's how I understood it and tbh that's highkey the only way to interpret it in a way that makes sense cus we not bout to switch up the meaning of an actual word just cus the internet people don't understand something

***

Hi Anon(s),

Anon in ask 2, when I copy-pasted your ask the link pasted like that, I'm not sure if that works but I've linked it here too.

I went to count the "set me free" myself (because I usually check for myself whatever y'all tell me here) and by golly, you're right. There are nine 'set me free's in the chorus, four in the outro, and 13 in the final chorus + outro.

...

Hate to be the party-pooper here, but I feel it's coincidence Anon. Then again, Jimin is the same person who sings "All this is not coincidence." So who knows?

Anon in ask 3, thanks for sending in your thoughts too. I agree with you and have said more or less the same thing in previous posts. Frankly I think it's obvious how autotune is used as a narrative device and stylistic choice in the song. The only people missing it are those with an interest in 'missing' it. Or people who cannot tolerate autotune in any way, shape, or form. Sucks for them though because Jimin just dropped the song of the year.

Take breaks, stay moisturized and hydrated, treat yourself to something sweet, and stream Set Me Free Pt 2.

*

Aside, I feel the need to say this: I'm getting that rush again. That orgasmic, euphoric high when the tannies drop music designed to be perfectly wired to my wavelength. In terms of solo work, D2, JITB, Indigo, and On The Street all stimulated that rush in my head. I expected that from the rapline but to be honest, while I've liked a lot of Jimin's material (Black Swan, Dis-ease, Friends, Promise, Vibe, and you won't find a stronger defender of Christmas Love than my sobok sobok-loving ass), I've not experienced that rush with his music and I didn't expect to feel that rush with his material.

The minute I heard the autotune in Jimin's voice at the start of the song though, how it was used, the fact that right from the jump they make it impossible to miss or ignore, it's like something in my brain shifted. Jimin has blown out every doubt I ever had about him. He's exactly what I suspected is.

A freak.

And I feel a bit ashamed I had dimmer expectations to begin with. Don't get me wrong, I expected Jimin to bring the roof down and dominate, but I expected him to do that differently. Instead, Jimin has not just brought the roof down, he's obliterated the very ground the house was built on. He has quite literally ended k-pop in 2023. It is ended. We're all existing in the post-mortem universe of k-pop. Our dates now read B.J. and A.J. - Before Jimin and After Jimin. He has served all there is to serve by any man, woman, creature to ever exist in k-pop.

But thing is, I feel this way about Hobi most recently with his Vlive & OTS, Joon most recently in his El Pais interview & ig pics, and Yoongi most recently three minutes ago when my friend sent me this picture:

*

So I've been reflecting on BTS, on the fact that it is BTS who is at the very top of this unforgiving and cruel system, a status paid for by their blood, sweat, and tears, and that to have gotten to the top all seven of them were forged through fire in the process. It's comical when people comment about how BTS lacks in this or that area, because most times, it's simply not true. All seven members are extremely remarkable people. To be in a group like BTS requires nothing less. Jimin could only shine in a group like BTS, where there are members with similar intensity but distinct and dissimilar colours. And their solo projects fully highlight the value and magic they each bring to BTS.

It hit me today that I might not survive Jungkook's solo debut.

That's what I'm really saying here.

Taehyung too is going to do something very interesting, after all he is a BTS member, so I'm expecting him to shock and awe. But today I realized that Jungkook could also debut this year, and I really had to sit down and think about if I could handle it. We know Joon and Hobi are back in the studio so we might get even more music before they enlist. And then there's Yoongi's tour right after Jimin's promotions, and what if they tour together...

Just... there's so much going on. And I'm loving it.

Chapter 2 is incredible!

[snufkinnieee]

every reference to greek and roman history in succession (part 2)

This is part two of my series where I document and analyze every reference to Greek and Roman history in Succession. If you haven’t read the first part, please click here! Parts of this analysis build off of the last one. I’ve decided to combine both season 1 and 2 because season 2  was a lot lighter on the references than I thought it would be. All that being said, please enjoy and let me know your thoughts.

Season 1

In my first post, I talk about how the Roy siblings evoke the triumvirate. In the very first episode, Kendall literally frames the deal he is proposing to his siblings as the “power of three” Of course, this fails, just like both of the real triumvirates. 

In “I Went to Market” there’s a scene where Logan is showing Willa all of the military medals he has collected. This precipitates the fight between Logan and Ewan over the fact that Logan did not personally fight in the war. He shows her a WW1 medal as well as a Roman medal. I think this scene more establishes Logan’s fondness for the military/militaristic mindset and his unwillingness to get his own hands dirty than it is about Rome specifically, but this list is EVERY reference so here it is. 

There are two references in episode 6 “Which Side Are You On?”. Specifically during the vote of no confidence scene. Logan calls Kendall Judas, in reference to the disciple that betrayed Jesus. This is fairly on the nose, but it could be seen as foreshadowing to the season 2 finale if you squint.

The second reference is when Roman is about to vote against Logan in the vote of no confidence. He says “You better be smelling your fucking armpit Romulus.” On a character level, this is clearly a father scolding his son by using his full name. However, as previously established in my first post, Romulus killed his brother Remus to rule Rome. Logan calls him this as he betrays his brother. 

Episode 7 “Austerlitz” has more Jesus-Kendall imagery. It’s actually the first instance where we see Kendall in the crucifixion pose, laid out against the rocks in New Mexico. This pose reoccurs throughout the series, so I think it’s important to note that this imagery only emerges after Kendall fails to defeat his dad at the vote of no confidence. I think it is here that he starts to enter the mindset of both the victim of the situation and as the only person who can “save” the whole company and by extension, his family. 

The time period is off by like 1000 years but when Kendall calls Greg a “Machivellian fuck” in the season 1 finale, Machivelli was Italian aka Roman but he lived during the Renaissance. Here is a really interesting video differentiating Machiavellianism from psychopathy and narcissism. In a show chock full of narcissistic abusers, I think it could interest some of y’all

Also in the season 1 finale, when Logan embraces Kendall after confronting him about the death of the waiter, he kisses him on the cheek. There are so many Judas references with Logan and Kendall that it wouldn’t surprise me if this was deliberately included. Logan kisses Kendall’s cheek, sealing his fate under his father’s thumb. This is paralleled to the season 2 finale where Kendall kisses Logan’s cheek, and then publicly betrays his own father. 

Season 2

There are a lot fewer references in season 2. The first pops up in “Safe Room”, when Frank references “Coriolanus” saying that he switched sides. He was a Roman general in the 5th century CE. Interestingly, this character inspired President Snow from the Hunger Games. Other than that, I don’t think it holds much significance. 

We hit a few more in “Safe Room”, both in conversation with Rhea. Her name is our first Greek reference. Rhea was one of the Titans, and the sister/wife (gross) of Kronos. She is the mother of all of the Olympians. Naming is extremely intentional in this show, and I think this is a way of positioning her as someone who Logan wants to see as equal. He is frequently referred to as a “titan” in the industry. 

She also references being “smuggled in like Cleopatra”. This references the way that Cleopatra and Caesar met. When Caesar came to Egypt during a feud between Cleopatra and her brother Ptolemy. She knew that she couldn’t just go and see him because there is no way Ptolemy would want his extremely cunning and beautiful sister to ally with the most powerful man in the world. So she had herself wrapped in a carpet, and was smuggled into Caesar's room. They became lovers soon after. Yet another instance of Rhea being aligned with a lover of a powerful man.

She then quips that Kendall is “Oedipus Roy”. This is taken from Sophocles’ play “Oedipus Rex”, one of the most famous tragedies ever written. Most people associate this with Freud’s Oedipus complex, but I hate Freud and Oedipus actually claws his eyes out after he realises he slept with his mother. Analysis wise, this is yet another instance of Kendall being aligned with a very tragic figure. It kind of echoes Tom’s point that Kendall gets fucked all the time. 

In “Ternhaven”, Logan addresses the Pierce family by saying “Like Romans amongst you Greeks, I’m sure you find us big, boisterous, and vulgar.” I think this is fascinating because yes, the perception was that the Greeks were much more refined than the Romans. I thought that this was a way for Logan to “defer” in a way that still gives him the upper hand. Greek civilization is remembered for its impacts on culture and democracy. The Pierce’s have an affinity for culture and their whole thing about the Berlin wall, so this comment does play into their values. But Roman civilization is remembered for their military prowess. Logan still has all the leverage.

This comment also works as a new money versus old money thing. It’s important to remember that the Roys are new money, and they don’t have the credibility/history that a family like the Pierces do. They see themselves as above the Roys because of this. It’s Logan playing into this stereotype to try and sweeten up the Pierces. 

I touched on a lot of the obvious Kendall-Jesus metaphors in the season 2 finale in my earlier post, so if you haven’t check it out here!  Thank you so much if you stuck with me this long! I’m rewatching the third season now and I’m really excited to write about Nero and Sporus (lol). There’s so much to analyse in this show, which is perfect for overthinkers like me. Stay tuned!

[kpop-dungeon-dark]

ALPHA HYBRID!JONGIN X YOU

•TRIGGER WARNING•

Warning(s): Semi-Noncon, breeding, claiming. Both characters are of legal age in this. This does not represent Kim Jongin nor anyone affiliated in any way and is purely a work of fiction. Browse at your own risk, you've been warned.

Request: Your mate Alpha Jongin claims you on a full moon against your will.

Y/n rolled her eyes at the eldest son of the Kims, Jongin, before she sipped on her drink and walked to the other side of the hall where the party was being held. She was only here because her mom forced her to do so, saying the whole family was invited and it'd be rude. The annoyed girl was standing in one of the many big balls of his mansion. And Jongin was so damn cocky, arrogant, proud and fucking smug.

The Kims were an elite wolf hybrid family and Jongin's father was the current mayor of the city. Humans and wolf hybrids coexisted throughout the whole world with almost all the hybrids being elite, the specie almost a class of its own. Currently, Jongin was showing off some project he was working on for the city whilst literally eye fucking Y/n who was the daughter of his father's human bestfriend.

She wondered what girl would fall for him. He was way too fucking over confident in himself and his abilities. The man carried himself like he was above everyone else around him and probably thought that too. How could anyone like him? Ugh. He was too much to bear with.

.

"You seemed bored during my speech." Y/n broke out of her trance, jumping a bit when she heard the familiar deep voice behind her. Rolling her eyes she stood up straight now as she was leaning against the railing of one of the many balconies of the mansion, staring at the full moon. "Tsk… isn't this kind of weather cold for you humans? What if you get sick, you foolish little girl…" Before his warm coat was draped over her naked shoulders.

Clenching her fist, the girl turned around to glare up at him. "I am 20! I am not litt-" she stopped abruptly when she came in face to chest contact with the taller, gulping at how he was staring down at her. "J- Jongin…" She whispered, throat dry.

"Hm…?" He casually sounded like he didn't have her trapped against the railing like that. Looking down at her soft curly locks, he softly pushed them out of her pretty face, tucking the strands behind her ear. "Better now that I can see that beautiful face fully."

Y/n felt her legs trembling. She had never been this close to another man let alone Kim fucking Jongin! "Y- Your eyes… t- they're… r- red…" The girl had always found the fact that they could shift into literal wolves terrifying, that was also one of the many reasons she avoided interacting with hybrids as much as she could.

"They are?" Putting his hands on the railing on the Y/n's either sides, the man leaned down and levelled their gazes, staring down at her calmly. He liked how her cheeks were red and pupils shook with fear. Good. "It's a full moon after all. They get like this on such nights. But don't worry, doll. I won't hurt you. I've trained plenty to keep Kai under control. He doesn't bite" before he grinned, his own words contradicting his body because his teeth looked sharper and longer.

"O- Oh alright… I- I'll go then~" shrugging his coat off, the girl tried to escape but oh no.

"Did you think about what I said, little one?" His bigger hand grasped her smaller one before he pulled her right back into him. "My confession… the other day." Jongin raised an eyebrow and spoke before she would try to play dumb. "You're my mate, baby. I need you on these nights… But you're always so busy running away from your Alpha… your mate… your guardian…" His voice was sickeningly low and sweet, plump lips grazing against her cheek. "Your protector and owner."

Angered from his last words, the girl furrowed her eyebrows and glared up at him. "I- I can protect myself just f- fine! Thank you! N- Now let me g- go! I already told you I like someone else! Y- You're a hybrid! I am human! Do you really think I am t- that stupid?! NO. We can't be mates! We are different species!"

The male sighed and shook his head. "Not when you stutter like that. Tsk. You just have to make it so much harder and complicated than it actually is, right? Little brats like you just won't learn until they're taught. And luckily your Alpha is here to teach you all that you need to learn."

Usually, he'd be able to keep his wolf under control much more as well as his anger. But the moon shining so bright right in his face was not helping. And then this little girl right here, huffing so adorably in her top cut low dress was looking so damn beautiful. Her constant denial wasn't helping.

"Thinking your Alpha is a liar…" Throwing her over his shoulder, he smacked her ass. "Tsk. You deserve to be punished harshly for that, my little human" before another smack landed on her ass as the man entered his bedroom, locking the door before he threw her struggling form on the bed.

"L- LET ME GO! Y- YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!" Before she tried to take her heels off to hit him with that, making him throw his head back and laugh loudly.

"What a pathetic little mate I have!" Smacking her hands out of the way, the man ripped her shoes off before ripping her dress from the bottom all the way up to the top, causing her to squeak and try to hide herself. "Fuck! You're so beautiful, my little mate!" Catching her kick mid-air, the man crawled on top of her and smacked her lips softly before kissing her. "Trying to hurt your Alpha? Bad baby."

Y/n was constantly running her mouth while crying but the Alpha turned a deaf ear to it. "Just give into the way of the moons, my pretty one, you'll be so much better." Trapping her hands that she was continuously hitting him with above her head, the male started kissing her face all over, tasting her tears and getting hard on them. "So good…" Before Jongin pulled her underwear down and gagged her mouth with it, the girl's screams were muffled now.

"You're so pretty with your mouth stuffed by your underwear, baby." Holding her hands tightly in a bruising grip, the hybrid unzipped his pants, holding her thighs open with his knees before his fingers started to rub against her pussy lips, pushing them open and now playing with her folds, making her sensitive body jump up in his chest from the sudden stimulation, her slit leaking.

Jongin chuckled. "You tell me no but your body can't deny me, huh? Seems like it is much more obedient than this dumb little girl here, tsk." Y/n whined and tried kicking her legs when he pinched her pussy lips painfully. "Look at this wet cunt, tsk!" Before he smacked her folds, causing the girl to scream in pain, his cock standing up painfully hard. "You want another man?!" His fingers turned into half claws, voice getting animalistic. "Well too bad the only man that's going to be fucking you and having you is me!"

Y/n's head was pounding. She hated how good and wet she felt. Her entrance was clenching needily, wanting just any object to push in her right now. Even if it was a marker like she had back home. Of course she was naughty. The girl was 20 after all!

"Fuck baby I need you now~" before the Alpha pushed in her unprepared pussy. No marker or even toy would have prepared for this. Jongin's knot was fucking huge! The human's eyes widened and mouth fell open, her body jerking when he instantly hit her g-spot, not being able to hold back especially because of the full moon and going berserk, thrusting his whole thick knot in and out of her, snapping his fists rapidly.

"You like this baby?! You're inviting me further and further in like you love it!" Pinching her nipples, the man started to suck and bite at her tits, sucking wherever his lips touched and covering her in hickies. "Fuck baby! You're so fucking warm and tight!" He loved the smell of her purity coating his cock, balls upping in without any effort.

"You deny me like that but your body says yes. You're mine after all! And I'll rightfully fucking claim you as such!" Y/n felt her body submit more and more, eyes falling shut as she tried to breathe through her nose because her whole underwear was stuffed in her mouth.

"Tsk… you're blushing in pleasure… look at this naughty fucking girl!" Before he kissed her lips harshly, biting at them before he guided his hand back to her pussy, rubbing at her clit with his thumb while going faster and faster, licking at her dripping sweat. "You like it, Princess?! You like being forced to lay under your Alpha?! Tsk. I should have known! Little girls like you end up being the most desperate whores!"

Letting go of her hands, the man grabbed her jaw and moved her face, licking at the marking point, the junction between her shoulder and neck before he bit down hard, drawing blood out while she screamed and started to squirt, feeling her pussy spasm as her hands gripped his shoulders, shaking.

"I am going to fill your adorable little tummy with my pups. You'd like that, won't you, baby?" Jongin licked at the fresh claim mark on her skin, starting to fill her with his cum before hitting it up her g-spot repeatedly, Y/n's eyes rolled to the back of her head as she gripped his shoulders, trembling under him.

"Tell me how you feel, my pretty human…" The hybrid male husked before he pulled the underwear out of her mouth and kissed her passionately. His hands groped her perfect skin as he stopped thrusting, still letting his cock rest in her, balls deep.

"A- Alpha… Alpha please f- fill my tummy…" She finally submitted, sobbing. "I- I am sorry…" He was right. She could feel it now after being touched and claimed like this. "Y- You were r- right… I- I can feel it… I only w- want you… P- Please fill my tummy with your puppies…" Jongin smiled and kissed her tears.

"Good girl."

.

This is a pretty old request I found laying around along some others. I don't even have the actual request anymore so I made up a summary of the events that unfold.

[t0wnspersonb]

Rest (Bakugo Katsuki x Reader)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2,515

Warning: SMUT, LANGUAGE

I’m literally in love with Bakugo Katsuki. I’ve had this idea in my head for a while and I might make this a small series, I love me some domesticated shit and I hope you guys do too. This is the first smut I’ve ever written so please keep that in mind as you’re reading lmao. I hope you enjoy it!

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

Bakugo sighed deeply as he dropped his duffle bag to the ground with a soft thud. His red eyes burned with exhaustion, his body felt incredibly heavy tonight after his shift. 

It wasn’t that he disliked being a top pro-hero, far from it. 

In fact, if someone were to ask him if he hated or loved being a hero he would scoff at them and blast their ass.

Of course he loved his job.

Becoming a pro-hero was his dream, the ultimate goal in his life. The amount of hours, blood, sweat, and tears he had put into his training was not for nothing.

Of course he fucking loved his job.

But sometimes. 

Sometimes he wouldn’t mind being able to rest.

Like now.

Now, all he wanted to do was eat and sleep.

Bakugo flipped the light on in the kitchen, taking notice of the just washed dishes in the dish rack and the scent of cleanser lingering in the air.

Y/n must’ve cleaned up before she went to work. He thought briefly before opening up the fridge to see what was available to eat. 

His expression softened once he laid his eyes on the plate of food wrapped up with a note on top.

Missing you a lot today, don’t overwork yourself.-Y/n

After reheating his dinner he sat down at the table, sighing deeply once more now that he was finally off of his feet.

It had been a long couple of days. A couple of weeks of nonstop back-to-back hero work. Which meant that Bakugo was rarely home, either arriving far too late into the night, or leaving far too early in the morning. There were only small traces that he had actually been there, a coffee cup left in the sink, the bathroom being damp still from a shower.

It was weeks like this one that were incredibly taxing on Bakugo, and that was because he never got to see you. 

His wife. 

It also didn’t help that your work schedule at the hospital was just as busy. Almost seemingly as the exact opposite of his.

He figured you had another night shift tonight as he headed to the bedroom.

But he froze at the doorway.

The tightness in his body melted completely as he gazed at your sleeping figure. 

You were curled up under the blankets, fast asleep, and completely unaware of the tall man staring at you.

Bakugo couldn’t move fast enough.

All he could think about was curling up against you tonight, holding you close, and burying his face into your hair.

He had missed you too much.

He stripped down to his underwear and moved to slide under the blankets, his expression further softening as he noticed that you were wearing one of his t-shirts.

Carefully coming up behind you, he moved to wrap one of his arms around your waist. He pulled you in close, tucking you into his chest easily.

But you were roused awake from the sudden movement.

“Katsu?” you mumbled softly, eyes still heavy with sleep but you shifted your body so that you were facing the warm solid man now next to you.

“Go back to sleep.” he grumbled, both of you settling down against one another. He peered down at you with a gentle expression.

He had never seen anything more beautiful. 

“How was it today?” you hummed softly, slinging your right arm around his broad shoulder, your leg kicking up to wrap around his waist. 

Bakugo wrapped his fingers around your thigh, tugging you closer. His hand was big and warm, the roughness of his palms and fingers felt perfect against your soft skin. 

A touch you were desperately craving the past couple of weeks. 

“Dumbass Deku got overrun with the villains we were chasing down, I had go and save his stupid ass.” he grumbled, moving his hand up to slide into your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns into your back.

“Hmm.” you sighed softly, nuzzling your nose against his collarbone, inhaling that familiar burnt caramel scent.

Both of you were quiet for a moment, enjoying each other’s company. It was clear that both of you were exhausted, but neither of you had gone to sleep just yet.

There was a hum in the air.

A familiar one.

You looked up at the man that you’ve known your entire life. His eyes were closed, but you knew that he wasn’t asleep.

Your gaze started at the top of his head. His spiky hair was more disheveled than usual, but you knew that it was incredibly soft and perfect beneath your fingers.

Moving your eyes further down you took in his perfectly arched eyebrows and long lashes, but beneath that you noticed the dark circles framing his lower lids. 

Frowning softly at your husband’s apparent lack of sleep you continued your search against his face. 

His nose was perfect, and just below it, those soft full lips.

Your stomach flipped pleasantly. A familiar feeling bubbling in your lower stomach.

He was fucking beautiful.

And that was just his face. You knew that his body was just as perfect, if not better.

It was as if Bakugo Katsuki was sculpted from the gods themselves. 

How you were married to such a beautiful man, you didn’t know. It was then that you started to be more aware of those muscular arms that were wrapped around you. Those strong, thick fingers gripping your upper thigh tightly.

Your heart rate picked up, and you shifted slightly, attempting to get closer to him.

“Stop staring at me, shitty woman.” he grumbled, cracking one eye open to peer down at you. “It’s fucking creepy.”

Now you remember how you ended up with this beautiful man. His shit fucking personality. 

I guess it’s true when they say you can’t have it all, you thought dryly. Of course your husband couldn’t be a gorgeous man without having some kind of flaw. 

It was actually a wonder how you guys had been together so long. 

Childhood friends turned lovers.

You had been by his side since birth it felt like. 

Considering your mother and his mother were good friends, it was bound to happen that you two would be as well. 

You were the complete opposite of Bakugo. 

Kind. Sweet. Gentle. 

You weren’t in the hero course when you had gone to U.A., rather you had gotten into the support course.

Which wasn’t a problem for you. You didn’t want to become a hero. Rather, being able to help behind the scenes and being able to support those that wanted to be on the front lines, protecting and saving people, like your husband.

“Don’t be mean Katsu, I haven’t seen your grumpy face in weeks. Can’t a wife just look at her husband?” You grumbled pinching and pulling his cheeks.

He huffed angrily, grabbing your wrist and attempting to pull your fingers away from his face. “Let go, that fucking hurts.” he growled. “Stupid woman, you think I want to come home and be pestered like this?”

You snorted, an amused expression on your face as you ignored Bakugo’s increasing insults and attempts at stopping you from pulling his cheeks, increasing the pressure of your fingers on his face.

“You little shit.” he growled. He gripped your wrist tightly and shifted one of his legs to be between your thighs and moved, heaving you onto your back. Your wrists were pinned on either side of your head, Bakugo above you.

Oh fuck.

The position you were in caused your heart rate to pick up once again. Your eyes flickered down his body, appreciating the bulging muscles and the way his boxers now hung lower on his hips. 

The smirk on his face wasn’t helping the situation either. 

“Like what you see?” he sneered.

You rolled your eyes and moved your leg, shifting it up so that you could press your knee carefully against his crotch.

You could feel his growing bulge. You felt the rising blush in your face and looked away from him, going to move your leg down from its current position. But Bakugo was too fast for you, he grabbed your leg and hitched it over his hip and settled himself between your legs. Pressing himself to your center.

You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your lips. 

“Why are you getting all shy now?” he teased, rolling his hips against yours. 

“Sh-Shut up.” you gasped, lips parting in arousal. “You haven’t even kissed me yet Katsu.”

He chuckled slightly, and released his grip on your wrists, allowing you to slither your arms around his neck, sliding your fingers into the back of hair. He leaned closer down to your face, one his hands grabbing at your jaw, the other one propping himself up to keep most of his weight off of you.

And then he was kissing you. His lips hot and urgent against yours, his tongue already poking through your lips, eager to taste the inside of your mouth.

You moaned softly, arching your body into his as your grip in his hair tightened. 

Bakugo growled against your mouth, grinding into your core harshly.

All thoughts of sleep are now gone. All Bakugo could think about was you, and how much he wanted to be inside of you. It had been far too long since the last time he'd had you, and now, he wasn’t going to wait any longer.

“Fuck, what do you want?” he growled, pulling away from you and seeing your swollen lips. Your eyes were wide and bright, full of want and need. 

His stomach churned pleasantly.

Before you could answer him his fingers were already where you wanted them the most. He rubbed at your clit in harsh controlled circles, his red eyes dark and filled with need as he gazed at your moaning flushed face.

“K - ah - Katsu. Please,” you whimpered, gripping his hair tightly between your fists. Your hips moving along with his fingers.

“Please what? What do you want?” he sneered, applying more pressure before he pushed your panties to the side, his middle finger sliding against your wet slit, but not fully penetrating you.

You felt tears gathering at the corner of your eyes, it had been too long. All you wanted was him to fuck you already. 

“You. I want you please.” you moaned out, bucking your hips up, urging him to enter you already. “Please Katsu, I missed you so much.”

Fuck. 

He missed you too. He was tired of the foreplay already, he needed to be inside you. 

Snarling loudly he all but ripped the clothes off your body before removing his boxers. His member stood tall and gorgeously thick against his stomach.

Your mouth watered at the sight, you wanted it in your mouth.

“Later.” he growled, noticing the look on your face. “I want to fuck you already.”

He spread your legs apart, gazing at you hungrily before taking his cock and rubbing it against your glistening slit, and then he rammed into you.

You cried out loudly as Bakugo set a brutal pace. Hard and fast, and incredibly deep inside your pussy.

It had been too long, your body needing time to adjust to his intrusion, your walls stretching to fit his thickness.

But he wouldn’t let you. Bakugo gave in to his desire and set a pace that had you gasping to keep up. 

Fuck did it feel good though.

The familiar pressure building up within yourself, ready to snap at any minute.

Bakugo was snarling above you, lost in the pleasure of your warm, wet walls gripping him tighter and tighter. He knew you were almost at your limit, he was too. 

He knew he wasn’t going to last long, it had been too long since the last time he was inside of you, but he needed you to cum first.

His grip was bruising on your hips; his mouth sucking and biting at every inch of skin that was within his reach. You knew you were going to have marks in the morning, but you didn’t care. 

His cock rubbed into the deepest parts of you, leaving you breathless and shaking. He always made you feel so full. 

“You gonna cum on my cock princess?” he growled, reaching down and rubbing your clit again. 

Your back arched, your head thrashing against the pillows as your pleasure began to build further up. “Katsu - ngh - I’m close.” you whimpered out.

He smirked, pulling out of your pussy before slamming himself back in.

And that was it.

You came hard, crying out and trembling beneath him, your wetness gushing out and staining the sheets below.

He snarled loudly, jackhammering his hips into yours as he chased his release before groaning lowly in his throat and spilling himself inside of you.

His hips finally stilled, he leaned forward and pressed his mouth against yours softly before trailing delicate kisses against the bites he had left scattered across your throat and collar bone. 

He stayed buried deep inside of you as he continued to soothe your battered body.

Bakugo knew that he was never gentle when you guys made love. He knew that his pace was always rough and harsh, but the aftercare was a different story.

After the intense fucking he always gave you, it was important for him to take care of you tenderly. He carefully pulled his softened cock out of you, hushing you softly as you whimpered from the loss.

He watched as his cum seeped out of you, smirking slightly to himself before he pressed a gentle kiss to your hip and got up to the bathroom to get a warm wet cloth to clean you and himself up.

When he came back you were already on the verge of falling asleep again. He sat near your legs, pressing a soft kiss to your knee as he cleaned up the mess he made between your legs.

You hissed softly, your lower body sore and sensitive. He hushed you once more as he finished cleaning up, tossing the cloth somewhere behind him, he’d take of that in the morning.

Starting at your hips he trailed his soft lips up your body, pressing the sweetest kisses into your skin, gazing at you with gentle eyes.

The aftercare was his favorite part.

You were so fucking beautiful like this, completely drained after all the pleasure that he had given you. Your skin littered with his marks, your lips red and swollen from his intense kisses, your hair a ruffled mess around your head after moving it back and forth so much. 

He pulled the blankets over your bodies as he settled next to you, wrapping his arms around your body tightly.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, your eyes closing automatically, sleep ready to take you under.

“I love you Katsu.” you breathed softly, pressing your face into his chest. “So much.”

“Go to sleep.” he grumbled tenderly, placing another kiss to the crown of your head. “I got you."

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

Wrong Number, Asshole - A Bakugou Katsuki Soulmate AU

All Parts:

Epilogue:

--/--

6 Months Later

“Stop- Katsuki, stop it!” You huff a frustrated sigh, shooting him an unimpressed glare. “Why can’t you just sit still?”

“Because this is takin’ too goddamn long! Waste of fuckin’ minutes.”

“Well this is important to me, so you’re gonna sit back and shut up and-“ You nearly scream when he shifts again, almost dislodging the measuring tape you’d wrapped around his wrist. “Sit still! Jesus, angry man, it’ll literally take two seconds if you just stop fighting me!”

He grumbles, something low and petulant under his breath, but then falls back against the couch fully. Bakugou finally relents, hand going slack in your hold as he shuts his eyes.

You were gonna kill him, no seriously, you were gonna murder him. He was being so difficult, way more difficult than usual, and you had a sneaking suspiscion it was because he was tired- because, as you’d quickly found out, from only a few months of dating, Katsuki was an absolute toddler about sleep. You’d come to understand that him being tired led to him being cranky, and him being cranky led to him being so goddamn annoying and combative that it made you want to tear your hair out.

He was lucky you loved him so much- not that you told him that yet.

You’d known you loved him for months now, could feel it the way your body heated if you thought of him, the way your blood sang if you so much as heard his name. It was a full body sensation for you- the way you loved him. There was just no escaping it; no escaping the way he’d carved himself a spot in every single part of you. You couldn’t imagine life without him, didn’t even want to try- but you couldn’t tell him so.

Every time you’d tried you were tongue-tied and stuttering and red in the face. The words were thick in your mouth, clogging up the back of your throat. You just couldn’t figure out how to say them; no matter how many times you’d tried. 

You flip his arm over, measuring the space between his thumb and his wrist. You’re trying to be delicate and gentle, but truthfully you really just wanted to get this done quickly.

With the deadline for your last college project quickly approaching, you’d spent the last few weeks doing nothing but devoting all your time and losing sleep over it. It seemed like no matter what support item you’d devised, it didn’t seem perfect- didn’t seem inspired enough to turn in for your final grade. So you dedicated yourself to watching clips and looked at hero rankings and pretty much sacrificed your social life entirely, just to stew over it. It took watching Bakugou’s own hero highlights with him to snap you out of your funk. You wanted to smack yourself; he’d been in front of you the entire time! Of course, it had to be an item for him. So you got to building and designing with renewed spirit.

Katsuki was an amazing fighter, you knew this, and his prowess in battle and raw power alone was quite literally unmatched by almost every opponent- but, the only thing holding him back was that he didn’t do so well with civilians. Try as he might, Bakugou’s loud, flashy, quirk just didn’t paint him as particularly friendly, and his brash personality didn’t help either. And, since you’d long ago given up trying to soften his character, but maybe you could help with his quirk. You figured that was pretty much your degree right?

So, for the past month or so, you’d been secretly working on a gauntlet attachment for him. You’d designed it to quiet his explosions, similar to a silencer on a gun, in hopes that civilians would stop reporting hearing loss after being saved by your very loud boyfriend. Truthfully, you knew it wouldn’t fix all his problems, but maybe then his ratings would go up a tiny bit. And, you figured, if you then just built the prototype you designed, then it could serve as a birthday present for him too. Two birds with one stone, right?

If only it was that simple.

It wasn’t. You were a perfectionist and you’d been pouring your blood, sweat, and tears for weeks now, but it still didn’t feel like enough. It felt like you were running out of time. Even now, while actively taking measurements for said project, you felt uneasy spending time with Bakugou. 

“You done yet, woman?” He peeks an eye open.

“Almost.” You grab your phone, typing the measurements into your notes. “See how easy and quick this went when you stopped being annoying?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to be so fuckin’ annoying if you’d just tell me what you’re makin’ already.”

“Nope. Already talked about this, Katsu,” You let go of his hand. “It’s a surprise! You don’t wanna spoil your birthday surprise, do you?”

You’re joking, smiling widely at him and fluttering your eyelashes. He doesn’t look very amused. Katsuki just squints at you for a moment before poking your side.

“That’s fuckin’ stupid. You’re being annoying. Stop it.”

“Fine. Well I guess since you don’t want it, maybe I just won’t give it to you then.” You tease, moving to leave the couch. “Maybe I just won’t give you any of the gifts I was planning to.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, huffs like he is very inconvienced, and grabs your wrist. He pulls until you’re falling into him, crashing into his chest and settling on his lap.

“I didn’t fuckin’ say that, idiot.” He grumbles, hands falling around your sides. “Stop putting shitty words in my mouth already.”

“I can’t. Pretty sure that’s my job actually.” You laugh, bracing your hands on his chest as you straighten. “Besides, you say like 3 words and all of them are swears, angry man. Someone’s gotta be the talker out of the two of us.”

“It shouldn’t be you. You’re better quiet.” His words were cold, but he was rubbing warm circles into your lower back. “Fuckin’ silent.”

“Wow- we sure are cranky tonight, huh, angry man? Is it bedtime for baby, already?”

“You’re not funny.”

“No, I’m pretty funny.” You laugh, brushing the the wild hair away from his forehead with a gentle hand. “But seriously though, if you’re tired, I don’t have to stay. I don’t mind, I can leave if you just want to sleep.”

He screws his face up at that, comically offended and dramatic as he drops his face into your shoulder. Katsuki’s arms wrap around your sides, pulling you close until you’re flush against his chest. He tightens his grip and doesn’t seem like he plans to let go any time soon.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, angry man, I get it. I won’t leave right now- but I can’t stay for too long.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“That project, remember? I’m nearly done.” 

He huffs again, arms curling tighter around you. You’re a little confused- truthfully, he usually is more physical than verbal, especially when he’s tired, but he’s never this physically affectionate. His voice is a near snarl when he speaks again.

“I fuckin’ hate that stupid as shit assignment.” 

 “Yeah, well, you hate pretty much everything; so I can’t say I’m exactly suprised, Katsuki.”

“No. Seriously.” He gruffs, fingers twitching at your sides. Katsuki takes a deep breath, biting out his next words quickly. “Haven’t seen you in fuckin’ days.”

“Aww-”

“Say another goddamn word and I’ll take it back, woman. Try me.” 

“Okay. I won’t.” You giggle. “But I really am serious, I can’t stay over tonight. Got work to do still.”

“That’s stupid.” Bakugou says and then he’s squeezing you once again, keeping you trapped tight against his chest. “You’re being stupid.”

“Wow. Thanks.” You snort, looking up at him. His mouth is pressed into a tense grimace, so you try patting his cheek playfully. “You know though, one of these days you’re actually gonna have to start using your nice words- can’t just continue insulting me or I might just disappear forever.”

He doesn’t seem to like your joke. Not at all.

“I’m kidding. I’m not going anywhere.” You console. “I’m only picking on you, you know, so don’t be so sensitive, angry man. You insult me all the time.”

“When the fuck did I insult ya?”

“Katsuki-“ You utter in disbelief, your hand moving to play with the hairs on the back of his neck. “You literally just called me stupid!  And you said you liked me better silent! Like 2 minutes ago!”

He shrugs, and you can feel his face heat against your neck, but he doesn’t say anything.

“You’re awfully lucky I like you so much.” You sigh. “Because otherwise I’d have to kick your teeth in every time you opened your mouth.”

“Like you could even get that close to me, shitty woman.”

“Strong words for a man currently making a home in my collarbone, Katsuki.”

“That’s-I- You know what,” He starts, extending an arm and pushing against your shoulders to create distance. “Say shit like that again and I swear to god I’ll...”

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll- I’ll fuckin-“ He stutters, face red and fists clenched. “I’ll-“

You think he looks adorable- all huffy and red and embarrassed where he sits. Katsuki’s eyebrows are pinched together in that competitive crease you’d come to know so well, his mouth curled around a familiar snarl. You were sure it must’ve looked terrfying to anyone else- but you weren’t just anyone else. You were his soulmate and you knew exactly how to get him to calm down.

You caught his face in both of your hands, crossing the distance until your lips met his. Bakugou tried to set the pace, because he always tried at first, armed with bruising pressure and dominance and uncoordinated aggression. You weren’t new here though- you had a lot more tricks of your sleeve than he did.

You ran a hand up his spine, your nails just barely catching on to the fabric of shirt, trailing the back of his neck until they landed in his hair. He damn near melted into you at that, and he pretty much dissolved when your other hand ran under the fabric of his shirt.

“You’re gonna what now?” You asked, pulling away slowly. You’re breathless and blushing yourself but that never stopped you before. “C’mon, Katsuki, tell me. What you were gonna do?”

“I-huh?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot?” You giggled. Unable to help yourself, you pecked his lips again. “You seemed so determined though!”

He’s still dazed- red and embarrassed as he looks at you through half-lidded eyes. You can’t stop the victorious smirk that rolls across your face.

“You’re an evil fucking woman.” He finally says, breathless. “Shitty too.”

“Mhm, I know.”

“Shouldn’t sound so fuckin’ happy about it. ‘S not a compliment, idiot.”

“I know.” You pat his chest, pushing away from him until you’re standing on your own. “Now, c’mon, up. Sleep time, right?”

You see the look on his face, and it almost kills you to crush it.

“No, that doesn’t mean I’m staying, angry man. I’ll take a nap with you and then I’m going home.” You offer your hand out to him. “Sound good?”

"Whatever.” He doesn’t seem all that pleased and he bats your hand away lightly, standing on his own. He starts down the hallway towards his bedroom with stomping steps and you follow. “You better actually go to sleep though- ya got ugly fuckin’ bags under your eyes, woman.”

You stop in your tracks, a wheeze escaping you. It didn’t matter how many conversations you’d had with him, how many times he’d accidentally insulted you with his blunt words, it still surprised you every time. And maybe it was your tired state, all the sleep lost over the past few weeks finally piling up, but his words hurt a little this time- hit a nerve and made you angry. 

“Alright, well, on that note. Maybe I will go home!” You huff, thumping a fist against his back. “That was so mean! What the hell, angry man! I’m literally busting my ass right now and that’s what you have to say to me? That I’m ugly to you? That’s fucking rude! I didn’t- I’m leaving. I don’t even have enough time for this anyway and I-”

He spins around quickly, pressing you into the wall as he grabs your arm. You can’t hit him anymore, not with the sturdy grip he has on your wrist, but the look on Katsuki’s face really makes you want to. He looks insulted, tired, but mostly just annoyed by your reaction. You swear you could kill him that moment, but then he’s gathering you into his chest and you’re melting against him. He’s still your soulmate- no matter how angry he makes you.

“N-not like that. Idiot. Not ugly.” He mumbles against your hair, voice tight and shy. You didn’t have to see his face to know he was blushing furiously. “I meant- I- you’re not fuckin’ sleeping. I can see it. So you have to sleep.”

“I-what?”

“I’m not fucking stupid. You’re tired- it’s obvious. Have been for weeks.”

“You noticed?”

“Course I fuckin’ did.” He shifts on feet anxiously, swaying you a bit in your arms. “See your stupid face all the time- I can tell that shit about you.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that.” You pull back a bit in surprise, trying catch his eyes. He won’t let you, eyes zeroed on the wall, just behind your head. His face is a violent shade of red. You roll your eyes fondly, gently guiding him to look at you with your hands on his burning cheeks. “I shouldn’t have flipped, but that still wasn’t very nice. You really should’ve just said what you meant the first time around, but it’s fine. I understand. School’s just been tough with final assignments and stuff, you know? I’m alright though- just a little tired. Like you said.”

Katsuki doesn’t seem pleased with your answer, his eyebrows creasing as he grumbles something under his breath.

“What? Couldn’t hear you, angry man.”

“I said-” He starts strong, nearly confident until his tone quickly falls off. Then he’s mumbling again and crushing you to his chest so he doesn’t have to meet your eyes. 

“W-what are you trying to say?”

“God, you always make me say such embarrassing shit!” He growls, voice loud next to your ear. “I said- I said- you’re doing too much, idiot! You haven’t been around much and it’s fuckin’ makin’ me mad and worryin’ me and all that stupid, disgusting, annoying, shit! So just give yourself a fuckin’ break, already!” 

You’re pressed close to Katsuki, and when you press you hand flat against his chest, you can feel his heart racing wildly under your fingertips. He must’ve been upset about this for a while, you realize- to be expending this much energy, when usually he’d be dead on his feet at this time of night. You feel a little guilty for it, but more than anything you’re gooey and warm all over. 

“I-I’m sorry. For worrying you.” You soothe, pressing a chaste kiss to his chest. “And I know you tell me not to apologize to you, but I mean it this time. I didn’t mean to worry you. I’ll take better care of myself. I promise.” 

“Good. I-”

“Hmm?”

“N-nothing.” He stutters, flushing violently all of the sudden. He spins on his heels quickly, dragging you down the hallway and into his bedroom. “You have to stay now.”

“No- I can’t. I told you.”

“And I fuckin’ told you to chill the hell out and take a break.” He barks, digging through his dresser and throwing a pair of sweats at you. “Stop being fuckin’ difficult. You’re staying.” 

Truly, you want to fight him. Your brain is running wildly, a million different ideas and worries battering around inside your skull- but he’s right. You are tired. Have been tired for weeks now. If you went home now, you knew you’d just talk yourself into working some more. So maybe a tiny, tiny little break wouldn’t hurt, right? Just something small. A single night.

“Fine. But I’m leaving early tomorrow morning.”

You knew you made the right decision when he smiles at you; a small, tiny, pleased, little thing that just barely curls the edges of his mouth. It seems like it’d be hardly noticeable, but you’d been dreaming of that smile for months now. He very rarely graced you with it, very rarely shared something so delicate and uncharacteristically soft but it winded you every time. 

Katsuki fell asleep almost immediately after pulling your down into bed with him. He’d barely curled around you, hardly even let his head hit the pillow before beginning to snore. That smile stayed though. He kept it even as his breathing slowed and his grip on you loosened. 

That same overwhelming warmth you’d been feeling for weeks overtook you again- that same blistering, endless affection rendering your limbs shaky and your breaths unsteady as you stared at him. 

I love him. You realized. More than anything.

--/--

As it turns out, letting Bakugou drag you into some much needed rest is exactly what you needed. 

The next morning you’d left his place, mind refreshed and completely reinvigorated to once again start working on the gauntlet attachment. You’d love to say it was just the sleep that fixed you up- but you knew the truth. It was him- him and increasingly strange ways of showing affection.

Settling down into your desk chair, you pulled the schematics you’d drawn up once more. There wasn’t much left to build, only a few more parts you’d need to fabricate with your quirk, and then you’d be ready to put it all together.

Using past records of his costumes, and studying various clips of him in his current costume, you’d finally felt certain that you’d gotten it right. It was a pain conducting the research, especially because you’d had to contact the support companies personally, but in the end you were happy you did it. You wanted this to be a possible improvement for him, but you also wanted it to fit in with his current arsenal. It was a risk for sure, giving your prototype as a gift, and you’d be totally crushed if decided to not use it, but you’d take the chance. 

Bakugou had only mentioned the problem a single time in the past, and even then it was a passing comment, but you couldn’t seem to let it go.

I’m sick of kid’s always fuckin’ cryin’ when I save them. My explosions aren’t that fuckin’ scary, are they? 

He’d said it in the middle of a rant, his eyes pressed tightly together as he paced angrily, but something about his tone struck you. When he said it, he didn’t sound angry. Bakugou sounded upset and frustrated and almost hopeless. You knew it bothered him more than he let on, and from then you wanted to help him- but you couldn’t imagine stripping him of his quirk. 

It, his explosions, were important to him. They were his power and his pride and they helped him save people. He was so, so proud of them, and it broke your heart to think that they were the only thing left holding him back. So, you figured, what if he kept the force but lost the sound? Kid’s normally liked bright lights a lot more than loud sounds, after all.

Grunting with effort, you began fabricating gears and wires and screws between your hands. It took hours and nearly all of your energy, but you’d finally done it. You had everything you needed to finish his gift. 

The next few weeks flew by in a flurry of construction, and deadlines, and sleeplessness but by the time his birthday rolled around, you were ready. Your schematics had been turned in and approved by your professors, you’d passed your final project, and you were finally finished building the prototype. Everything was going great- but you knew why you were really happy.

The last few weeks had been packed for you, and you’d hardly had time for anybody. You felt guilty about it, of course, and you only felt worse when you only heard Bakugou’s voice over the phone each night, but there was no helping it.

Or, at least, there wasn’t- but it wasn’t crunch time anymore. You’d suddenly found yourself with an wealth of free-time, and you knew exactly who you were gonna spend it on.

--/--

Using the key he’d given you, you slipped into the apartment, closing the door quietly. It was difficult in the dark, stumbling slightly with the gifts and cake currently held in your hands, but you’d managed it. Everything had gone smoothly on the way there, you’d just put the cake safely in the fridge, and now you could wake your soulmate up to the best birthday of his life.

What shame he had to go and ruin it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You jumped, heart seizing in your chest. 

“Jesus- fuck.” You yelled in the dark. You blindly felt your way out of the kitchen and into the living room, towards the sound of his voice. “Bakugou! What the fuck, man?”

“What the- no! Me! I should be the one fuckin’ saying that!” His voice was raised, and you couldn’t see his fists but you knew they were probably clenched tightly into fists. “Almost blew you up, idiot! What the hell are you doing here?”

“Oh my god.” You huffed, hands rubbing at your tired eyes. “I was going to wake you up! Surprise you! Because it’s your birthday and it’s- wait, what the fuck are you even doing up? It’s like 6:30 AM, on a Saturday!”  

“What the hell are you even on about? I’m always fuckin’ awake right now!”

“Yeah! On a work day! When you’re working!” You can’t help but be frustrated; you wanted to be cute and sweet and Bakugou had ruined it entirely. As he so often did. “But you’re not even working today! It’s your day off! And I know you sleep in on those, so why?”

“Couldn’t fuckin’ slee-”

“What do you mean?” You interrupt, finally flipping the light switch and flooding the room with light. “Swear to god you’re dead to the world the second you hit the pillow! Literally happens every time I stay over. You’re out by 8:30! Why is today of all days the day you choose not to sleep?”

He doesn’t say anything in response to your outburst, and that’s when you finally look at him. It had been almost 3 weeks since you’d last visited, and he didn’t look like you remembered him. It wasn’t anything super obvious at first, but upon closer inspection you could see the deep bags under his eyes, and the pale, lifelessness of his skin. He was telling the truth; apparently, he really hadn’t be able to sleep- and it didn’t start just last night either.

“Hey. Katsuki,” Your irritation from earlier faded. Suddenly filled with concern, you stepped towards him, taking his face in your hands. Bakugou tried to turn away, but you didn’t let him. “What’s up, huh? You alright?”

“Fine.”

“No. You’re not. You look tired. Are you sick?”

“No.” He mumbled, his hands falling on your waist as you stood in front of him. “I’m fine. Workin’ a lot or whatever. I’m fuckin’ fine.”

You nod, eyebrows rising in surprise as he suddenly pulls you in. He presses his face into your stomach, arms around your sides as he shuts his eyes. There it is again- that unusual physicality. This strange behavior had stopped for a while recently, but now it seemed to be back in full-force.

“Do you wanna try sleeping again?” You ask after a beat. “I’ve got birthday stuff for you, but we can do always do it later. We’ve got the whole day, right?”

“What- you plannin’ to actually be here or some shit?” He grumbles, with a lot more intentional bite than you’re used to hearing from him. “I’m surprised. Didn’t know an idiot like you still had the fuckin’ brain cells to remember.” 

You’re shocked, rendered completely still and stiff in his hold. Was he- was he mad at you? 

“What?” You try to push away from him, to get a look at his face, but he doesn’t let you. Bakugou’s arms only tighten and you’re left even more confused. “Are you upset with me? Are you tired? What’s wrong?”

“You really fuckin’ piss me off.”

“What?” 

He only growls under his breath, voice raspy and deep. “Whatever. You don’t fuckin’ get it. Let’s just go to sleep.”

“No- but I-” You stutter, feeling out of place. Katsuki sounded so frustrated and angry and you couldn’t figure out what was wrong. “If you’re upset with me we need to talk about it. What happened? What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t respond to your question, only knocks your feet out from under you and stands with you in his arms. You’re dumbfounded. He has never, not ever, carried you anywhere. He’s never even made an attempted to lift you! Something was seriously off with him today- and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what it was. 

Katsuki was mad at you. You knew that, he’d said it himself. But then why was he carrying you down the hall to his bedroom? Why wasn’t he kicking you out?

He kicks open the door, pushing it shut loudly behind him. He looks pissed when you look up at him, his eyebrow’s creased together in an agitated line, but even so, Katsuki sets you down on the bed gently. You’re hardly able to catch your breath when he’s climbing in on the other side, pulling you close and lying practically on top of you.

“What? I- Katsuki?” You asked desperately, brain reeling. “What’s wrong? I don’t understand?”

“I’m fuckin’ tired, woman. Go to sleep.”

“I can’t! Not when you’re upset like this- seriously, what’s wrong?”

“You. You’re what’s fuckin’ wrong!”

“What?”

“God, you’re so fucking dense!” He growls, angry voice vibrating against the skin of your neck. “Fuckin’ showin’ up in the mornin’ like nothin’s wrong? Been avoiding me for weeks now!” 

“What- no! We literally called last night! What are you talking about?”

“We called for 2 fuckin’ minutes before you fell asleep! And you-” His voice drops suddenly, and then he’s pressing even closer to you, starting up once again. “You piss me the hell off, you know! Sayin’ shit about how you’re gonna do better and then leavin’ for weeks? Not talkin’ to me? What the fuck is that? And then you sneak in here and scare the shit out of me! And you’re running your stupid fucking mouth about the whole day when you’re not even gonna be her-”

Oh. Oh.

He was mad because you’d been busy; because the last time you’d seen him, Bakugou had told he was worried about you, and you blew him off. The last time you’d seen him, you’d promised that you’d take better care of yourself and then you didn’t. All you did was continue working yourself to death, and while you didn’t regret it for even a second, you hadn’t kept him in the loop. You’d barely even managed to call him each night, and even then you’d fall asleep half-way through every conversation.

“Have you been worried this whole time?” You asked quietly.

Bakugou takes a deep, shaky breath, and you can feel his eyelashes flutter against your neck. 

“You were worried.” You whisper. “Weren’t you?”

He nods minutely.

“I-I didn’t realize. I told you- but I didn’t realize. I was so focused on school, so busy, I’m so sorry.” You press a kiss into his hair, your heart sinking when his shoulders tremble. “I missed you too.”

“I didn’t fuckin’- I didn’t-”

“I know. I said it. I’m saying it. I’m sorry, Katsu. I missed you.” You sigh, tightening your arms around him. “Is that why you’re not sleeping well?”

Bakugou is silent but he tenses, going completely rigid under your hands. Your stomach drops.

“It’s-I’m good. Really, this time. Everything’s done. I’m completely finished and everything is gonna go back to normal.” You cradle his face, making him look into your eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. We’re good.”

“Are we?”

“What?”

Bakugou shakes your hold, tucking his head until you can’t see his eyes anymore. You can hardly see any of his features, but you see the wobbly line of his mouth. Can feel the shaking of his fingers. When he speaks again, it’s quiet. Barely there.

“Didn’t mean it, last time, when I said your eyebags were ugly. You’re not ugly.”

You blink, hardly able to recall the conversation. Wasn’t that the last time you had visited? Weeks ago? Why was he still thinking about it?

Bakugou huffs again, apparently frustrated by your silence.

“So I’m s-sorry. For insulting you. So now you don’t have to disappear again.” 

Your eyes widened.

“You know though, one of these days you’re actually gonna have to start using your nice words- can’t just continue insulting me or I might just disappear forever.”

You remember how upset he’d been when you’d made the joke- how his shoulder’s dropped and his eyebrows caved and his mouth smoothed out into a thin line. Was that really the last time you’d visited? Did he think you were mad at him this whole time? 

 Guilt flooded you, awful and thick and viscous as it tore through your stomach. You had to make him understand. You just had to.

“No. I- Katsuki. Look at me. Look at me.” You insist until he’s looking at you. His eyes are the dullest you’ve ever seen them- more vulnerable than ever before. “I didn’t- I was just busy, I promise! Not upset. I didn’t mean to ice you out like that. It’s fine! I know you didn’t mean it.”

Katsuki growls, grasping for your hand and hiding his face behind it. “I didn’t- I’m sick of stupid angry shit I say ruinin’ stuff for me. So don’t just fuckin’ say it’s fine if it’s not.” 

“It is. I promise. We’re good.” You soothe, caressing his burning cheeks with your knuckle. “That was a bad joke, okay- I didn’t mean it. I wouldn’t have said it if I knew it was gonna make you worry so much. I promise I was just busy these last few weeks. Nothing you say is ever gonna get rid of me, alright? Not even if you tried! Because I love you and I-”

“You what?” 

You freeze, shifting uncomfortably as your cheeks heated up. This was not how you wanted to tell him. You wanted to tell him like you meant it, not just tacked onto the back of a bunch of other statements. He’d heard though, and no matter what you wanted, you couldn’t run from it.

“You what?” He asks again.

“I-I love you. Katsuki, I love you.”

Bakugou jolts, nearly jumps out of his skin and then he’s digging his face into your neck. He’s hot, his skin nearly burning, and there’s a strangled, clipped noise leaving his mouth. You’re filled with so much adoration in that moment that it nearly chokes you, but it’s freeing too, because you’ve said it. Finally. After waiting your entire life for him, after knowing him for so many months, after loving him for so long, he knew.

“I love you.” You repeated again, giggling breathlessly. “I love you, you dummy.” 

He finally lifts his head, expression so full of awe and disbelief and childlike confusion. It’s just like the first time you’d really kissed him; like he couldn’t figure out why you loved him. It was like those first few days all over again and you couldn’t help it. You loved him so much.

Grabbing his chin, you pulled him in, guiding until his lips met yours. You felt him smile as you kissed him, and you realized you were wrong. That first real kiss might’ve been nice; but it wasn’t heaven- itwas only the gateway to paradise. But this? This was the real Elysium. 

His body moved against yours, so close and warm and pliant. He was letting you set the pace, without resistance or force or argument for the very first time. There had been a lot of past kisses, you had hardly been able to keep yourself off of him, but none of them had never felt like this before. He’d never trusted you like this before. You got to be the one taking and taking and taking where’d you spent so long giving. 

It was consummation. Finality. Your perfect ending. 

You pull away, panting for breath. He follows, resting on his forearms and dropping his forehead to yours. 

“I-I- I love you. Too. Idiot woman.” 

You laugh under him, cackling loudly as you turn to press a kiss into his forearms. Of course he’d said it like that. It’s tough love or not at all with Bakugou Katsuki- and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Stop laughing!” He orders, face screwed up uncomfortably. “You’re always fuckin’ laughing at me! You fuckin’ witch! Stop it! It’s- I’m not- I take it back! I don’t- stop makin’ fun of me, shitty wom-”

“Hey, Katsuki?”

“Oh my fucking god! You laugh at me and then you go thinkin’ your just gonna interrupt me while I’m yellin’ at you? No fuckin’ way! I’m not gonna allow that shit in my own fuckin’ house and I-”

“Katsuki.” 

“Jesus christ! What?”

“I love you.” 

He freezes entirely, collasping his entire weight directly on top of you. He’s so hot it’s like his skin is burning. You wrap your arms around him with a happy giggle, burrowing your own blushing face into his hair. 

“I love you.” You whisper, slow and earnest against the shell of his ear. “I really, really, really love you, angry man.” 

He startles again, jumps in your arms and only seems to run hotter. He groans something strangled and defeated, until he’s sinking into you again, pressing you against the mattress.

“S-s-stop fuckin’ saying it. You’re doing it on fuckin’ purpose.”

“Doing what?”

“You fuckin’ know, you witch woman.”

“No, I really, really, dont.” You say indulgently, laughing as you drop kisses into his hair. “Care to share?”

“No. Fuck no. I’m fuckin’ done sharing. Forever.” 

You rolls your eyes, once again enduring his very familiar dramatics. “I wasn’t laughing at you, Katsuki. I was just happy to hear it- that you love me too.”

“Well, remember it, because I’m never fuckin’ saying it again.”

“Not even if I say it to you?”

“Especially not fucking then.” 

“You’re so difficult sometimes, I swear. You’re really lucky I love you so much.” You say softly, before scratching idly at the back of his head. “Now, c’mon. Get off me. I didn’t forget- you need to go to sleep.” 

“I’m sleeping here.”

“No you’re not, you man-child. You’re gonna crush me.” 

“Good.” 

“No, not good. You wanna celebrate your birthday with a murder charge?”

“Yes.”

“Katsuki.” You laugh, pressing against his chest. “Seriously. Up. You’re supposed to use those muscles to save people not kill them.”

He just groans loudly, flopping backwards gracelessly. Katsuki is pulling the blanket up and shutting his eyes, and you think everything is finally okay. Until he clears his throat. Until keeps clearing his throat.

“Oh my god,” You huff, opening your eyes. “What’s wrong now?”

“Say it again, idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t be fuckin’ stupid. You know what I’m asking you.”

When you look at him, he’s got his eyes screwed shut, his cheeks red. You thought he was adorable- just the cutest man in all of Japan. You knew what he was asking, of course you did, and if he hadn’t been so upset earlier you would’ve made him work a lot harder for it. As it stood now though, you just scooted closer to him; shifting until you were right next to his blushing face and sharing the same pillow.

“I love you.” You say, running a gentle thumb over his heated cheek. “Now go to sleep, okay?”

You can see the smile he’s fighting, the way his lip twitches and he raises a hand to cover it. Then he’s pulling you close and digging his head into the pillow.

All is quiet, and finally, finally, he gets some sleep.

—/—

Katsuki, on a good day, was an absolute beast to wake up- on a day off however? The man was damn near impossible to stir. 

You were squatted next to the bed, trying to pull the pillow out from under his head as he held it in his grip. It was absolutely unfair- even at his groggiest your soulmate had the strength of a one man army. It was seriously pissing you off. 

“Are you kidding me right now?” You’re grabbing at his wrist, trying to pry his fingers away from the pillow but he’s not budging. Katsuki’s got his eyes shut tight, and he’s dutifully ignoring your every word. “I’m serious! It’s noon! Get up already!”

He finally peaks one eye open, just barely enough to see your irritated expression. Katsuki huffs, rips his pillow away from you completely, and flops on his other side. His back was to you, and normally you’d be thrilled about the free chance to drool over the planes of muscle- but this wasn’t a normal occasion. It was his birthday and you’d already made him breakfast and he was refusing to get up and eat it. 

“Bakugou Katsuki, I swear to god, if you’re not up in two seconds, I’m not gonna kiss you for a fucking week!” 

This does seem to illicit a response from him, because then he’s flipping back over, mouth pulled into a snarl.

“You think I care? You starved me out for fuckin’ weeks already!”

You want to roll your eyes. You thought he was being awfully dramatic and you knew you really shouldn’t stand for it- but he wasn’t technically wrong. However inadvertently, you had been neglecting him, and maybe it was time to treat him instead. Just this once. 

“Oh my god, you silly man, come here.” You relent, climbing onto the bed and hovering over him. “If you wanted a kiss you should’ve just asked.” 

“I-didn’t! When the fuck did I say that because I-”

You pressed your lips to his, effectively shutting him up. It was a trick you’d learned early on, but damn if it wasn’t still useful. You pulled away right when he started to get handsy.

“No. Bad.” You say, batting his hands away from slipping under your shirt. “I didn’t just waste all that time trying to get you out of bed just to be pulled in. Now, c’mon, you have breakfast to eat and presents to open- it’s your big day, birthday boy.”

“Fuckin’ exactly. Let me do what I want.”

“No, because if I let you do what you wanted you’d sleep all day and only wake  to go blow something up.”

“Sounds like fucking bliss.”

“Alright, well then I guess you’re gonna have to experience nirvana all by yourself because I’m going to eat.” You pat his chest, climbing off the bed and standing straight. 

Bakugou grumbles under his breath, but then the blankets are rustling and he’s rising to follow you out the door. He tears into the breakfast you’d made him, shoveling eggs and bacon and pancakes down his throat at an almost inhuman pace. You would cringe, but you’d seen this scene already many times before. 

“You ready for presents, now?” You ask, putting the dishes in the sink.

“Sure. ‘m not a fuckin’ kid though, you didn’t have t-”

“I wanted to. Seriously. So be quiet and be a little selfish for once. Please.” 

He nods tightly, following you into the living room. He’s settling on the couch, once again rubbing at his eyes when you bring the gifts over. There’s three of them in total and he chooses to open the smallest one first.

“Fuck- this a new watch?”

“Yep.” You nod. “To replace the one you blew up last month.”

“When the- how the hell did you-”

“I have my ways. Now, seriously, promise me you’re gonna be careful with this one.”

“Okay.”

“Katsuki, that’s not a promise.”

“I’m not gonna just fuckin-”

“Say it.”

“No! Why the hell should I have to fuckin’ say shit just because you were spyin’ on me, you freak!”

“Katsuki.” You glare him down. “Promise me.”

“Jesus fuck, woman. Fine. I promise I won’t blast this one to pieces, alright?” He rolls his eyes. “Ya all happy and cheery now?”

“Very.” You smile brightly, moving to grab the second gift and place it in his hands. “Here’s the next one, open it.”

You watched him set the watch aside carefully, before taking the second gift. He might’ve been grumbling, but he couldn’t completely hide the smile trying to stretch across his face. You were glad you made the effort- he deserved every good thing and more.

“This is a jar.” He says flatly, looking down at the unwrapped gift. “What the hell?”

“It’s a swear jar. You know, for practicing how not to offend everyone within a .2 mile radius.” You deapan, taking the excess wrapping paper from him to throw it out. “You gotta work on it, Katsu- news has to censor you so much that your public appearances sound like EDM music.” 

“I’m gonna blow this up.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am.”

“No. You’re not.” You laugh. Then you lean towards him, sidling up close and lowering your voice as you run thumb across his jaw. “And, hey, if you figure out how to make it through the week without filling it up, I’ll give you something really, really nice as a reward.”

“Reward?” He’s asks, quickly putting down the jar. You know the look in his eyes, and you’re not surprised when his hands wander to your waist. “’s empty now, right? Think I fuckin’ deserve it. Huh, sunshine?”

“Nope. Sorry, Katsu.” You smile sweetly, dodging as he leans in for a kiss. “It’s saturday- week doesn’t start until tomorrow!” 

He groans, loudly, falling boneless against the couch and tugging you with him.

“You make me want to blow my fuckin’ self up. You know that, you shitty woman?” 

“Aw, thanks. Now, cheer up- you’ve still got one left to open.” You say, patting his grimacing face.

You shake his hold, just barely avoiding when he tries to pull you back as you grab the last present. This box is a little different from the last two, you’d spent extra time trying to make sure it was wrapped nicely and you’d even tied a ribbon around it. You hoped he’d like the gauntlet attachment- you didn’t think you’d be able to hide your disappointment if he didn’t.

“Yeah, so this next one,” You start, placing the box in his hand delicately. “I made it for you myself. Designed it too.”

He pulls the ribbon on the box, tearing away the paper. It’s like time stops for a moment, rolling nerves arresting you and choking your breath. You’re nervous and you feel like shaking and you so desperately want him to like the gift. Want him understand just how much work you’d put in for him and just how easily you’d do it all over again.

“Yeah so it’s an attachment for your grenade gauntlets, right?” You start, right when he’s pulling the device from the box and holding it in his hands. “I was thinking- wouldn’t it be nice if you could quiet your explosions sometimes? You know, for when you’re saving civilians and kids and stuff so they’re not so scared. Basically it works kind of similar to a suppressor on a gun, dispersing and slowing down the blast just a little to muffle the sound, but it’s just a little more high-tech and way more powerful- to match your quirk. Obviously. And it’s adjustable so, if, for whatever reason, you needed to wear it outside of your costume, you can collapse it slip it on like a bracelet and-”

Bakugou is silent. He’s almost frozen as he stares down at the gift, only twisting the gift around in his hands to get a better look. His eyebrows crease, and your stomach drops.

“No- it’s- please don’t get mad! It’s not supposed to offend you or anything! I-I know you don’t need my help to save people, you can do it all on your own, I know that.” You rub your arm anxiously, eyes averted to the floor. “I’m just trying to help- you know, because you always talk about your ratings going up, and I’m sure you could totally do it on your own, I know you could, but I just wanted to help you cause that’s what I do, support, and I can’t help you out on the field and I-”

Pop.

Pop pop pop pop pop

When you finally look up at him, you’re blinded by the smile on his face. It’s bright, and beaming, and brilliant as he fires off explosions. You can see the light dancing on his hands, the force of combustion shooting his arm back, but it’s quiet. It sounds like pop rocks and bacon grease and popcorn instead of cracking thunder and collapsing buildings and then he’s laughing- he’s laughing something full and joyful as he stands, holding his hands up right next to his ears and setting off more explosions.

“You hear this shit?” He yells, that wide smile dazzling you all over again. “Fuckin’ works!”

The nerves disappeared, the tension seeping from your body entirely as he grinned at you. It was worth it. Entirely worth it- you’d give anything, start all over and do it all again from the start just to see that smile. 

“You wanna hear?” He asks suddenly, nearing you with his hands raised. “Listen!”

“No! No- I’m- I’m good, Katsuki.” You laugh, batting his hands away from your head. “I can hear it just fine from here, no need to singe my hair.”

“I wouldn’t-”

“I know.” You smile up at him, poking his broad chest. “So you like it? Right? Because it’s just a prototype, first draft, you know, so if there’s anything you want to change about it, let me know. Or if you just don’t want it I-”

“I’m fuckin’ keepin’ it.”

“Huh?”

“I’m keepin’ it. It’s cool as shit.” He smiles down at you, eyes crinkled at the edges. “Besides, stealth, right? Could blow a fucker up in the next room and you wouldn’t even know it!”

“But I- I made them for you to save people? Like to help them?”

“And they could be used to blow shit up more effectively too. Win fucking win.” Katsuki pulls you in suddenly, arms falling familiarly around your waist. “Good shit, sunshine. Thanks.” 

“Of course.” You sigh, looking down at your feet. “That’s what I was doing- when I was gone. Designing it for my project grade and then building it for you. Sorry I got so carried away, I didn’t realize I was gone so long, you know?” 

“You’re still stupid for it, but it’s fine. Fuckin’ get it.” He grumbles. “You’re done now or whatever, right?”

“With school? Yeah I mean, I’ve still got graduation and stuff but otherwise I’m pretty much-

“Move in with me.”

“Huh?”

“God, you always make me fuckin’ say it again!” He flusters, voice loud and raspy. “I said- move in! Here! You’re fuckin’ disappearin’ all the goddamn time to wherever the fuck and I’m sick of it!”

“Y-you want me to move in? 

“That’s what I just fuckin’ said! Idiot!” He thunders, face a violent red when you look up at him. “And I’m not gonna fuckin’ say it again so you either have to say yes or no because I-”

“Yes. Obviously. Of course I’ll move in!” You say, warmth filling your chest as you throw your arms around his neck. “I love you, of course I will!” 

You see the smile he can’t contain- one so dazzling and arresting, as he looks at you. One exactly similar to the brilliant one from earlier. You couldn’t believe that sentiment made you emotional- the thought that you made him just as happy as explosions did, of all things. But it did make you emotional. It really, really, did.

“What’re you- stop cryin’.” He says suddenly, calloused fingers catching your tears. “Why’re you cryin’? I didn’t even say anythin’ rude this time!” 

“No, it’s not that.” You sniffle, grabbing his hand and kissing his knuckles. “I’m just happy. Really, really happy. I love you, you angry fucking man.”

Katsuki leans in for another kiss, and you don’t dodge it this time. You meet him in the middle and melt into him just as much as he melts into you. You can feel his hand under your chin, the other on your back, and you don’t think you’ve ever been warmer than in that moment.

You’d been waiting your entire life for him. For all of this. You were warm and loved and so very, very happy that it nearly knocked you off your feet. 

Or it would’ve- but when your knees weakened he just held you closer, righting you without missing a beat. You suddenly loved him for that, and for everything else too. You loved him for all that he was and his angry words and his subtle gestures. He was sizzling gunpowder and sharp steel and seared ashes, but he was the softest landing you’d ever known too. There was no hitting the ground with him, and he’d never let you fall alone. 

You’d know Katsuki was forever since the day your tattoo appeared, but it didn’t truly sink in until you’d learned to love him. Until you’d known him. Now you knew him like the back of your hand; you saw his face behind your eyelids, heard his voice in your dreams, and thought about his touch every waking moment. He was your other-half, as scary and loud and intense as he was, and you wouldn’t change a single thing about him.

He pulls away suddenly, and when you glance up at him he’s staring right at you. 

“I love you.”

Your breath catches. You thought you were thrilled to hear the words last night- but it was nothing in comparison to now. Bakugou was finally looking at you, catching your gaze and holding eye-contact and his voice was soft like you’d never heard it before. His tone was bare, no anger or attitude or bite- just him and three little words that took your breath away.

In that moment, Katsuki is the only person in the entire world. There was no one else and no other conclusion, and of course you ended up here. He was the only ending you’d ever surrender to. The only finality that could ever possibly taste so sweet. 

And suddenly, all at once, you loved him all over again. 

//-//

i- sob. plS this was so much fun to write and im gonna miss it sm !! 

once again, thank u to everyone who liked and commented and reblogged any part of this! this is the first ever multi-chapter fanfic i’ve ever written , and i really really was nervous about my characterization and writing and stuff, but you all made me feel so welcome here.  i appreciate it sm. way more than any of you know.

anyways, thank u once again for reading lovelies and i hope u all stay safe. i love y’all. <333

[multifandomthoughts]

Dark King of Desire

MINORS DNI

Requested by: Anonymous

Warnings: Penetration, Dry humping

The rain beats down on the Oro Jackson, lightning and thunder making it almost impossible to sail. But to support your captain and his crew, you stayed outside, gripping the side of the ship. The ship rocks and sways but one thing that doesn’t budge is Rayleigh.

His posture is tight, his voice booming through the storm as he shouts commands, muscles glistening from a mixture of the rain and sweat. His arms bulge as he pulls in the sails, and you have to avert your eyes just so you can focus on the task at hand. You’re soaked, and the only thing you want to do is go inside and dry off. But you have your own work to do. You linger a bit longer to watch him work. He’s just so alluring, the moments turn to minutes and soon you’re all settled in to brave the worst of it. Rayleigh looks over the whole deck to make sure everyone is accounted for, and your eyes meet. You look away quickly, hoping that between the distance and the rain he can’t see your blush.

You swear that his eyes having been wandering just like your own, but to what you can’t figure out. It can’t possibly be you, he has much more important things to do than talk to you. But here he comes, long strides and firm shoulders as if he’s talking to the most powerful person in the world. You shudder to think of what could possibly be so important that he’s coming over here for.

You try and find something to do so you look busy, and end up fiddling with a knot in the rope ladder. “Can I… help you, sir?” You ask politely, not looking at him yet. He looms over you, a serious look on his face but mischief in his eyes. “Seems like I should be asking you that. You were looking at me like you needed my attention for something. Mind telling me what that was?”

Gulping loudly, you begin to try to think of an excuse. It was rude to stare, and you had no idea whether or not he was actually looking at you. “I wanted to go down and lay in my room for a bit…the swaying of the boat was making me feel uncomfortable. But once I made eye contact with you I figured that I had been found out and I had to stay. I felt I had to keep looking at you to make sure I was still required above deck.” You mumble out, trying to look past his exposed chest and look him in the eyes

He nods in agreement with this explanation. “Alright, guess I can excuse that then. But going forward, you can just go ahead and slip below decks even if you see me looking. I’ll make the connection as to why, I’m pretty perceptive. For example, your panties are damp… or was that just the storm?” He asks, grinning devilishly

Your face turns a deep red, understanding the entendre almost immediately. Shaking your head, you take a deep breath before responding with a sly “I don’t know, why don’t you follow me and you can find out?” Letting out a deep belly laugh, you were almost certain that you were screwed. Instead, his strong firm hand clasps yours as he walks you down to your private quarters.

As you’re led inside and get a chance to think things over, you come to the embarrassing realization his innuendo was actually quite correct. Without even realizing, you had indeed become aroused. Mentally setting that aside as a fun surprise for Rayleigh later down the line, you squeeze his hand as you enter your room. Now comes the moment of truth, he called your bluff before so you have to follow through for the sake of your dignity. “Guess I should get out of these wet clothes before I catch pneumonia or something…” you sigh playfully, seeing Rayleigh has already dropped his wet coat and taken a seat on your bed to watch.

Your pants were torn, not from wear and tear but from slashes and stabs. That being said, it made it a breeze to drop them. Sighing, you step out of the soaking puddle around your feet. You bend over, pulling a bandana out of you hair and whip it back, allowing your hair to be free. However, it releases all the water, causing you to shiver slightly. Next was your crop top that you had created yourself; it was too fancy and frilly upon your purchase. As you cross your arms to pull it up and off from the bottom, you glance over to see his reaction. He’s just tapping his finger and giving an easy going smile, as if this means nothing to him. Frowning, you turn around so he’ll have to stare at your back rather than the perky breasts you’re now exposing to the cool night air.

You toss your top over your shoulder at Rayleigh, not even looking at him now. If he wants the show to continue he has to ask, otherwise he better be content with wet fabric. You hear the sound of a weight being removed your bed, then the soft creak of footsteps across the floor, and the next thing you know Rayleigh’s arms are around your waist. “Might if I help with the grand finale?”

You try to act indignant. “Hmph! I don’t see why you should get to, you weren’t nearly appreciative enough of what I’ve done so far.” You haven’t given me one look over, not one compliment, nothing! I might as well let your wet clothes cause you shrinkage. You turn away from him and pout, not letting your true emotions be known.

Rayleigh rest his head atop yours in a pout. “Don’t be like that. I was just being patient; you don’t applaud in the middle of a great concert, you wait until it ends.” It’s a great line, and he knows you liked it. Damn smooth talker… “I guess that logic is acceptable. Fine, I’ll let you do the last bit, but you have to show off for me first. And I’m not turning around until you say something else nice.” You can feel the chuckle ripple through his chest to his jaw, then he leans down to kiss your neck. “If I didn’t have my spirits literally dampened by these clothes I’d be rock hard and dying to feel you… How does that sound?” A delighted shiver runs down your back, and suddenly you’re soaked all over again.

In an impressive feat of strength, he rips off his shirt with only his bare hands. Drops of rain still cling to his smooth chest, a sigh escaping his lips. “I’m at least a little bit warmer now, but now my upper body is cold.” You don’t understand, what does he mean? Oh. Oh. He smirks, watching as you struggle to respond. You decide to tease him one more time. “Then go ahead and lie back on my bed. I’ll handle those pants, and then we’ll see if you even want to sit up again to get me naked?” Now it’s his turn to feel flustered, biting his lip to hold back a devilish grin. “I don’t know, most people can’t handle what I’ve got. But you, sweetheart? You seem like you’ll be a formidable challenge for me.” He coos, throwing hot and heavy words back at you.

“Then lie back and let me feel challenged, stud.” You order, sitting on your knees on the edge of the bed and waiting for his obedience. When he complies your hands immediately dive to his fly and within seconds his pants are around his ankles… and you were so eager you yanked off his underwear too. Leaning over his waist, you’re now staring down the barrel of his sex pistol, and it’s every bit the monster you expect from Roger’s right hand man.

You rub yourself up against Rayleigh’s thigh, kissing him hard. “Does someone want attention? Or are you just going to sit there and make me do all the work?” Firm hands grab your thighs as you squeal, being hoisted into the air and directly onto Rayleigh’s lap. “Ooh, seems I came in for a rough landing…” you jeer, knowing full well what he is doing. “I guess you did my dear, and what are you going to do about it?” He retorts, a sparkle in his eye sending shivers down your spine.

You begin to grind your clothed pussy against his hard length, hoping to making him eat his words. Somehow, he’s going to wish he just shut up. His grip on your thighs immediately tightens, and you can see his brow furrow in concentration. His hips twitch, as if it’s taking a lot of will not to buck and roll against you. Guess he still wants to keep the air of composure. That won’t last much longer.

You can feel how hot and ready his saber is just waiting for you to sheath him. You have to bite your own lip to hide how much fun you’re having with this, and at the rate it’s going you might draw blood before any other fluid.

You run your hand across his cock, it’s warmth evident. Along with your hand on his shaft, you begin to wiggle, pressing into him. “Two can play that game.” He sneers, cupping your bare breasts in his hands. Kneading softly, he carefully runs his thumbs over the gentle buds, eliciting a squeak from you.

As if it couldn’t get any better, he pulls you as tight as he can against his throbbing dick. Every move you make, you can feel it pulse and throb. You stop for a minute, with Rayleigh pressing his face directly into your cleavage. His beard tickles as he gently shifts his face, looking to the left and to the right.

You don’t know how much longer you can wait. You’re not at your breaking point, however, your core aches to have his thick cock inside of you. Even just thinking about him makes your thighs clench, and you feel a damp spot in your panties.

Just as you think you’re about to give in and beg for more, he lets go of your chest and starts pulling at your waistband. Jackpot, he cracked first~ You put a hand over his and tut at him in playful judgment. “Tsk tsk tsk… someone’s run out of patience I see. But these are my favorite panties, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tear them apart like a wild man, okay?” On wobbly knees you climb off of Rayleigh and bend at the waist to slide the damp garment down your thighs. The fresh air reaching your wet and sensitive nethers is enough to overwhelm you for the moment, and you fall forward onto your hands and knees. Without meaning to, you’ve provided him with the perfect view of your bare sex.

“you know I’m going all out after that torturous foreplay, right?” You give a nod, and hope your body can endure it. That’d be a hell of a way to go out, your corpse being found by your crew mates the next morning with a shattered pelvis and signs of a heart attack from over excitement. But before he enters, you feel his hard cock playfully slide between your asscheeks and down to rub against your folds, causing you to let out a loud moan

Smirking to himself upon hearing your reaction, Rayleigh holds you steady by your waist and slowly presses his way in. He gives a guttural groan at the sensation, while your moan raises in pitch with every inch he buries in you. You push yourself against him, trying to attain more friction. Each inch he puts in adds another layer of pleasure, waves causing you to shudder. Once he is all the way in, he begins with a steady pace and hard thrusts.

Your body shakes with each thrust, your hanging breasts jiggling and swaying as his pelvis claps against your ass. Hands gripping the bedsheets, you try not to get lost in thinking about how deep he’s getting and how full you feel. Pleasure like this had been unimaginable before now, but you don’t want to picture what it would be like if it went away again.

Rayleigh is clearly enjoying himself as well, his grunts and moans soft, but audible enough for you to hear what he says. A curse or an oh god slip out of his mouth every so often, and that turns you on more, quickening your release. Meanwhile, Rayleigh is having an internal struggle of his own, your tight and soaking pussy treating him better than he can recall getting from any other. He wants to enjoy this for as long as he can, but between the mad teasing before and this current euphoria it’s hard to hold the tidal wave back for too much longer.

The two of you continue to rock the bed while the ship rocks in the storm, passion deafening all noise but each other. The wave reaches its crest sooner than you would like but later than you thought with how worked up you were to start with, and Rayleigh hunches over you to keep you close and deep as he finishes. Your orgasmic scream is muffled as he cranes your head back for a deep kiss, and you remain joined at both ends as his pulsing member pumps a hearty load into you.

You sigh, collapsing from exhaustion. Always the gentleman, Rayleigh pulls you up into a comfortable position. “Are you alright?” He questions, a slightly glassy look in his eyes. You gently nod to him and run your hand over his chest with a happy sigh. He pulls the covers over you two, and wraps an arm around your shoulder. What an end to the night.

[hopeless-ro-simptic]

Sweet Poison - Yandere Alpha! Tamaki Amajiki x Omega! Reader

Shout out to  @homework-is-the-real-killer for the inspiration. I don’t know if you wanted something spicey... but that’s what your getting. I have a part 2 planned out for this guy to kinda explain a little more from Tamaki’s side of things of what is actually going on. Also I have no clue if y’all will like my take on him, but I see him as being someone who yea he’s a little shy but once he gets used to you he’s at least not a complete stuttering mess. 

Part 2

Warnings: NSFW, quirk play, definitely tentacle porn, unknowing drug use, dub-con if you squint?, Honestly I don’t know how to tag so If you think I need to add something please tell me. 

Word Count: Just over 2k

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“What’s wrong Y/n? You are so fidgety today.”

“Oh, haha am I? Sorry I just really want class to be over so I can go see Tamaki.”

Your friends shared looks before turning back to you questions in the eyes.

“I know you guys are courting, but don’t you think you spend a lot of time with him? You don’t even sit with us at lunch anymore.”

“Oh come on guys, I literally went to the movies with you guys last night.”

“Yea but…”

They didn’t get a chance to finish their sentence, the bell chiming to let everyone know that the school day was officially over. You were flying out of your seat and down the hall before they could even call out your name. You were absolutely giddy, ready to be enveloped in the scent you had grown to love. You turned the corner, pausing for a brief second as your breath caught, watching as Tamaki and his two friends stood chatting. You couldn’t help but think about how much he looked like an angel. He was so perfect, and he was all yours.

Without a regard for the rest of the students you took off down the hall practically jumping on the alpha wrapping your arms around his neck as his instinctively wrapped around your waist pulling you against him and burying his blushing face into your neck.

“B-Bunny. You got here fast.”

“I missed you.” You took a deep inhale of his scent and could feel him doing the same. Nothing made you feel as good as being near the alpha.

You didn’t see the looks that his friends shared, Mirio clearing his throat one, twice, three times before Tamaki finally pulled away from you enough to look at the taller blonde. Shoving his hands into his pockets but still leaning on you, his face beet red once he realized the attention the two of you had garnered from the rest of the hallway.  

“Ah, I’m sorry Tamaki, I didn’t mean to make a scene…”

“Trust me, it’s fine. He won’t say it but he loves it. He hasn’t stopped talking about you all day.” Nejire jumped in making both of you blush even harder, Takami burying his face in your shoulder mumbling softy to you.

“Can we go now?”

You couldn’t help but smile, reaching up and patting his hair gently, agreeing quietly with the timid alpha before the two of you said your goodbyes to his friends.

The two of you slowly made your way over to the third years dorms, fingers intertwined, completely skipping over your own room and opting to go into his instead. Shortly after the two of you had started courting, he had been so nervous to ask you to move your nest into his room, saying he just wanted to you close to him, and how could you say no to such a sweet request? Now, just two months into courting, you practically lived together, only leaving when the teacher would come by to do their final check that everyone was in their correct rooms, just to sneak back in only an hour later.

The only reason the two of you weren’t bonded yet was because UA had a strict policy against it, insisting their students wait until they were graduated so as to keep them focused on their studies. Still… everyone knew you belonged to Tamaki.

Once the two of you were finally alone in his room, you couldn’t help yourself, immediately latching onto him, nuzzling against his cheek softly and cooing into his ear. He wasn’t any better, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling the two of you into your nest that was on his bed, pressing his lips against your scent gland kissing softly as he started to thoroughly scent you, taking his time and making sure to cover everything.

“I missed you so much. I hate that you have to be around other alpha’s all day, muddles your scent.” The stutter in his voice was gone, and even though he was speaking softly, murmuring really, he was doing it right in your ear making you wiggle against him. He had grown to be so comfortable with you that once the two of you were alone, it was clear as day he was an alpha. One that your omega was dying to submit to his every, albeit quiet, whim.

You hummed in agreement, shifting so that you were comfortably laying halfway on top of him, a soft purr leaving your lips as he rubbed his cheek against you, before he started to pepper soft kisses along your jaw moving towards your lips.

The entire room was filled to the brim with his mouth-watering scent, the scent of sea salt mixed and lavender with just the slightest hint of something warmer, darker, that you couldn’t place. Whatever it was, was absolutely heaven to you, and the timid dark haired alpha was pumping it out like he wanted to coat the entire building in it.

“Tama-“ You started to whine, your omega needing more, only for his gentle and oh so soft lips to be pressed against yours, swallowing your needy sound, his inner alpha making him a little bolder after being separated from you all day. You kissed him back, feeling yourself getting worked up just by being near him, touching him, smelling him, let alone kissing him. He slid his tongue against your lips hesitantly and you immediately parted your lips allowing him entrance which he greedily took. You practically melted against him, a soft purr leaving your chest as one of his hands slipped up into your hair lightly holding your head in place. It was at that point you noticed his tongue was getting bigger, longer, slimier, and the texture changing. You knew that if you pulled away now you would see that it had changed into a tentacle and you couldn’t help but clench your thighs slightly at that thought, a groan leaving his lips at you squeezing him between your thighs.

And then all at once he tasted so mouth wateringly sweet, so delicious, so… addicting. You could feel your mind filling up with the dizzying fog that always came with kissing your alpha, a high that you could never get enough of. It was this feeling, this feeling of flying, that made you so sure that he was the alpha for you. That made you know without a doubt that you would never want another. That you would never leave him.

You felt like your body was going numb, no longer having control of it and enjoying the high that he was giving you as he regarded you carefully through silted eyes before he slowed the kiss and pulled away, your eyes latching onto the string of saliva that connected the two of you, a soft whimper leaving your lips as you shuffled closer. You wanted more, needed more. More, more, more, more, more of him. You couldn’t control the whine that left your lips, your eyes transfixed on his own, leaning down to press soft kitten licks that he blushed at, tasting the lingering sweet spit that was left behind.

“D-do you love me bunny?”

You didn’t hesitate, pressing your lips against his own in short quick pecks, desperately trying to get him to open back up, to let you have more of that high that you so badly wanted. That only he could give to you.

“Yes. More than anything.”

His hands came up shakily to your hips, digging his fingers into the plush flesh there, just the touch making you gasp softly, his eyes transfixed onto your face with awe, soaking in every reaction, even blush, every flutter of your eyes as he kneaded your skin.

“Do you promise?” You could feel his grip guiding you, nudging you to move up and up and up until you had your knees on either side of his blushing face, his fingers cupping your ass from underneath your school skirt, shaking as they brushed at your panties which were already soaked tugging them down slowly, oh so slowly. His eyes flicking from your face to what lied before him, begging for attention, slick dripping down your thighs. He could practically taste you from here.

You nodded, not even realizing the amount of whimpers that were leaving your lungs, your fingers gripping into his hair as you looked down at him, your brain filled to the brim with every thing him. His smell, his taste, his touch. Him. Him. Him. Him. Him.

“You won’t leave me?”

You shook your head, your body trembling at this point from pure excitement. Did everyone feel this way with their alpha? Would it always be this intense? How did anyone get anything done?

“I…I n-need to hear you bunny.” You could feel it as his tongue, no, his tentacle, slid up your thigh, licking up the running slick, suctioning to the highest part, just below your sopping cunt before releasing making blood rush to the spot and forcing a high pitched mewl out of your mouth. His eyes never leaving your face, seeming more and more confident with each gasp and whine leaving your lips.

“I promise. I love you Tamaki. Please.. god.. I need you. I won’t ever leave you. No matter what. I love you. Please, please, please, please. Alpha.” Your fingers gripped his hair, you could feel tears stinging into your eyes, you felt like you would actually combust into flames if you didn’t get more of him right this second. Your skin was starting to itch, feeling like something was crawling all over you and you could feel your body breaking out into a sweat.

Somewhere in the very back of your mind, something told you this wasn’t normal. Being completely and utterly addicted, to the point of almost pain-… you weren’t due to start your heat any time soon, knowing full well that most omega’s didn’t go into heat until they were at least 20. No… this was different… this was-

Your whole body shuddered, brain turning off completely when he all at once yanked on your hips, forcing you down onto his face, his tongue sliding against your core and deep into your cunt, much farther than it was supposed to be able to, to the point that you could feel it in your stomach, suction cups sliding against your sensitive swollen clit as he pumped his tongue in and out of you, making you choke on your own screams, tears spilling over onto your cheeks at the intensity of it all.

You should have been embarrassed when he inhaled deeply, a low primal growl that you never imagined him making leaving his lips as he breathed in your scent, but you couldn’t do anything, couldn’t think of anything, other than the glorious feeling of euphoria that was filling your mind, as the high that you had been chasing finally returned to you again. The world was filled with bright colors, your mind filling with a fog that just felt so good that you never wanted it to leave. Everything was perfect. He was perfect. Your alpha. Nothing could ever change that fact. Nothing could ever make you want to leave.

When you finally came back down from your high, you had realized you must have passed out from the bliss. Tamaki had you laying on your back, a warm washcloth pressed to your forehead, his arms wrapped around you tightly as he layed against your side, his face pressed against your neck, nuzzling you softly and cooing into your ear of how much he loved you, asking if you were okay, how he would take care of you, how you never needed to worry about anything, how he loved his omega.

You couldn’t help but smile trusting all of his words and snuggled further into his grasp, a soft contented sound leaving your lips, enjoying the sounds of his pretty words being murmured to you. The soft, gentle, loving kisses that were carefully placed along your neck and face. The feeling of his arms turned tentacles tightened their grasp around your form, holding you in place against him leaving no wiggle room.

You felt completely and utterly safe in his grasp, knowing he would never let you go.

You were his sun, his moon, his everything. You were his.

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[pynkhues]

Please recommend some of your fav Rio fics!

Of course, anon! Since you asked for Rio fics, I'm going to guess you meant Rio POV fics? If not, I'm sorry, haha, because that's what I've collated, but I hope you give these a shot regardless! They're all fics I think are pretty great. ;-)

Below a cut, because this got long.

But when he does reappear at the store—she still doesn't hear him coming, she needs to work on that—she's wearing a fuckin' dress, and he's glad she hasn't seen him yet because he can't stop himself from grinning.

Maybe it ain't for him, but given the fact that he doesn't think he's seen her legs since he came back—aside from that one night at the bar when she was definitely feeling herself—it seems like this is an intentional break in the pattern. Either way, he fuckin' loves the idea that she's been dressing up all week, not sure if he's coming but wanting to be ready if he does.

Now Use Both Hands by ms_scarlet / @mego42 6k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.

Ooooof, this fic causes me physical pain, but I love it a whole lot. Meg really captures Beth and Rio at their most acidic, their most sharp edged, while also managing to balance that with the feelings they desperately don’t want to have. It’s a bit magic, and the fact that she follows this up with another fave, Listening Through the Air Shaft is *chef’s kiss*.

- - - -

When he wakes, he's in a hospital bed, mouth dry as bone and he can taste blood, stale and metallic, on his tongue. The pain in his chest has been dulled by the drugs, but it still lingers, a persistent ache that spikes with every breath.

By all rights, he's a dead man walking.

Ten hours, they had him in surgery. From the look of his chart, he'd flatlined twice, and he can feel the consequences of that, see it in the bruises on his chest, the exhaustion lining the faces of his family. He'd woken to a little hand in his, Pop's cheeks damp with tears, and shit, it'd been close. Too close.

Bury a Friend by @ejunkiet >1k words. Mature. Beth x Rio S3 canon divergence.

Pivoting from 3.01, this fic is a wonderful, quiet character study that looks at Rio in the aftermath of the shooting before he explodes back into Beth’s life. It pulses with emotion and with the promise of catharsis, and it’s just a really special little fic. The Rio voice is terrific too.

- - - -

He finally gets what he needs one day when Elizabeth’s wearing this tight black sweater with a keyhole that shows off just enough to make Rio’s jaw rock. It’s so out of the ordinary, so unlike her ugly li’l sweaters or her surburban mama button-ups, he does a double take, head whippin’ around so fast that she catches it immediately. Then she catches where his gaze lands, where it keeps landin’ through their whole stilted, irritated conversation, and he sees her chest pinken til he can count her freckles. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, and her lips fall open just the smallest bit, and then she looks up at him.

Eyes locked on each other, Rio takes a step closer. Elizabeth doesn’t back away.

I Will Collect You and Capture You by @foxmagpie 17k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio S3 canon divergence.

I feel like I've recced this fic 1,200 times at this point, haha, but it really is one of my favourite fics in the fandom. It has this sort of grip on you as a reader that almost embodies Beth's grip on Rio in the story, and the way it builds and builds and releases only to build and build again is really delicious, affecting writing.

- - - -

“Com’n her and her lady friends were shakin’”

“Shakin’ about the lemon on the fuckin’ granite, sure.”

They chuckled as the car rolled on, the suburbs slipping away with the sun.

“Think they’ll pay up?”

There was a groan as Rio shifted in his seat, flexing his fingers along the dash.

“Neighborhood like this? Everybody knows someone who knows someone with a trust fund.”

Mick’s lighter flickered, followed by long, rasping inhale. “And a boat.”

Smoke swirled lazily through the open window up into the purple sky.

“And a boat.” Echoed Rio.

Drivin' through the Suburbs by gangfriend / @00gangfriend00 5k words. Teen+. Mick + Rio friendship, Beth x Rio. Canon compliant.

It takes a lot to make me laugh out loud in a fic, but this one does multiple times. It's just insanely fun, and captures Rio and Mick at their most boyish in a way I find utterly charming. It's really, really delightful.

- - - -

She’s got her crimes wrapped up and categorized in folders with labels and post-its. Wrapped up in gift paper with a big blue bow on it. And she’ll probably ask Turner do you want freshly baked cookies or some shit when they go raiding her kitchen.

Rio should really get it under control. Her, get her under control.

She opens the door and slumps onto the front seat, her eyes set angrily on him. Nineteen voicemails and she’s still got things to say: he sees it in the twitch of her hand, the restless, frustrated pattern. Any minute now she’s going to settle on new words to voice her complaints like he’s here to listen. Like he’s got the time— like he cares. Like he’d better.

It’s a Work Thing by isoldewas >1k words. Mature. Beth x Rio. 2.12 canon divergent.

I'm a bit of a sucker for a good canon divergent fic, and this one pivots the car break up in 2.12 in a smutty way that just works unfairly well. It's such a great little fic that really settles well into Rio's headspace during the messiness of s2, and I love it.

- - - -

They settle in their respective places and Rio takes the opportunity to give Elizabeth the same once over that asshole did. Her ass really does look great in those pants and she could fill out any shirt. Her eyes linger over him too, tracing his skin, the bar tattoos peeking out from under his t-shirt that she’s seen a million times but she devours at every opportunity. Then her eyes meet his and she gives him that small, crooked lil’ smile.

He’s not one for religion, but every so often he takes his mom to Spanish mass. All the viejitos and pious Catholic types think he’s a banger but his ma’s still excited to show him off. He sits with her in the pew and when the priest asks for the congregation to give thanks to God, he says a prayer for the riches that have come to him, the health and brilliance of his son, the vitality of the other little ones in his life now, and Elizabeth. And when he thinks of her in those moments, he sees her in his mind’s eye with this exact look on her face.

A Bit of a Stretch by @septiembrre 5k words. Teen+. Beth x Rio. Established relationship.

Beth and Rio do a yoga class together! There’s such a lived-in feel to this fic that it feels impossible not to fall a bit in love with it – their relationship is explored in a way that feels true to who the characters are, while sanding down the edges to create something that feels sweet in the way they usually aren’t in canon. It's a great fic, but more than that, it really just works in a way that's a lot more complicated than it looks, and it’s all the more charming for it.

- - - -

He’s happy to keep kissing her like this. To savour it. Realises she’s undone the last few buttons of his shirt at some point as she shoves it down his shoulders. Doesn’t have a second to think about his ugly scars pressed to her skin. Can just feel her little hot palms snaking up his back and grippin’ him tight. Refusing to let any light between them as they kiss for what feels like hours.

He realises these are the lips he’s been tasting. Searching for in other women when his night’s got too unbearably quiet, hunting for an echo of the thing he really wanted. Comin’ up short every damn time. Sweet and soft and lethal. Unique to her.

It’s longing in a way he’s never felt. This is the taste of it.

As Good as This by @riosnecktattoo 5k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. 4.05 canon divergence.

Okay, I know I just said how much I loved canon divergence fics, but it bears repeating – I love canon divergence fics, haha. This is such a great alternate take on how the wire scene in 4.05 goes down, and it simmers with tension from the opening line. The way it escalates as Rio navigates this newest betrayal works really well too, and it results in a pretty sexy and surprisingly emotional sequence. Magic!

- - - -

“Do we have a deal?” She asks.

When he turns to look at her she’s smiling, and that’s when he realizes he’s absolutely fucked. He’d just fucked himself out of almost a quarter of a million dollars. He lets his eyes drop down her body, licks his lips and nods.

“I choose the place,” he says and turns on his side to face her. “You owe me half - with interest,” he says and slides a hand into her hair. She’s damp, the sweat slowly cooling.

“That’s not what - “ she opens her mouth to protest and he takes that opportunity to slide his mouth across hers and lick into her mouth.

Long Nights by zetuslapetus / @querenaxx 2k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.

Rio and Beth bone while negotiating a deal! What's not to love, haha. This has such a fun checks and balances feel to it which just makes me want to peel my skin off, it's so good. It's exactly the way I like my Beth and Rio - hot and snarky and constantly trying to get a leg over the other, literally and figuratively. It's the best.

- - - -

He should go out and find someone to fuck. Maybe text one of his hookups. See if Jen’s working. He has options.

He knows what he should do.

But it turns out fucking other people is a worse hell than the one they create when they’re together.

And now that he’s yielded to this wicked ecstasy, he knows he’ll do anything to keep sitting in the fire with her.

To Sit in Hell with You by @daydreamstew 2k words. Beth x Rio. Explicit. s4 canon divergence.

Canon-divergent from 4.06 – Beth and Rio keep hooking up after the time at his grandma’s place. It’s fun and sexy while also keeping the complicated push-pull and lack of communication at the heart of them. Deeelightful.

- - - -

“Does it make it easier?” Maddie asks him once they’re spent, maybe emboldened because he has already brought her into their bed. Which may be unfair, because Lee had been in their bed from the beginning.

“What?” He seems lost in his thoughts, his arm behind his head. In a few minutes he’ll get up and get ready to get back to the factory. Like always, she’ll be looking for her keys so she won’t be late for work.

“Getting it out of your system before you see her.”

Rio glances at her. “I don’t always see you when I see her.”

It’s so rare for him to explicitly mention this woman, however tenuously, and Maddie waits for more. Rio’s gotten like this about a few women in his life but it doesn’t happen often.

Sure am Using You by aniara 2k words. Explicit. Rio x OC, Rio x Beth.

It's not for everyone, but I absolutely love fics that feature characters with other people in ways that tell you something about the characters' feelings about somebody else. In this fic, Rio's fucking one of his childhood friends, but it's all about Beth really, and the way both Rio and the OC negotiate that is really compelling writing, and feels so in character for Rio. I really love it.

- - - -

Rio dreams of her that night, again. It’s irritatingly pedestrian – Elizabeth’s kissing him deep and then, ah, suddenly his gun’s in her hand and she shoots him, with a double encore. It’s always variations on the same futile theme. When he wakes it’s not that he’s freaked, unaware of reality or his whereabouts. But he’s been soaked in anger for so long. He can’t think straight, not on her. It’s honestly terrifying. Cos stubbornly keeping his head on right is – that’s him. Maybe her entire raison d’etre is destroying every single one of his attributes though.

He ain’t sure if his subconscious is desperately screaming that he’s made the wrong move, letting her live. Or if it’s the total opposite. Could be fucking neither. It’s not – it’s not getting any easier. And that main reason for not biting the bullet, that he’d be mad as hell for being mad as hell at himself over killing her, it's not smelling any less idiotic.

Climbing up the Walls by s_t_c_s / @sothischickshe 8k words. Explicit. Beth x Rio. S3 canon divergence.

Another canon divergence from 2.13 and an interpretation of how s3 could've gone, and another one I really love. There's a throughline of chaotic frustration to this fic that rings true to Rio's character for me, and the way that that reverberates through his moments not just with Beth, but alone and with other women, feels really textured and interesting and real. It's pretty great.

[saltybaltic]

Can we get a fic with Natasha fucking carol mercilessly and the Reader is cuffed to a chair watchind!!!

Natasha Romanoff X Carol Danvers X FemReader - CUFFED

Synopsis: I think the request says it all really 🤷‍♀️

Warnings: 18+ content, smut, restraints, slight Dom/sub undertones if you squint

Words: 970

Reluctantly you had to admit it; this truly was the most wonderful form of torture. Despite knowing it would do nothing to help your situation, you tugged on the leather cuffs that secured you to each of the arms of the chair you currently found yourself stuck in. You supposed it was more for something to do than anything, finding the fact you could literally do nothing the most frustrating thing about your predicament. You wanted to shift in your seat slightly. Wipe at your face that was burning hot now, beads of sweat starting to gather at your temples. Squeeze your thighs together maybe to alleviate some of the pressure. 

The tight cuffs around your ankles anchoring you to the front legs of the old wooden chair made sure none of that was possible. Or should you say Natasha had made sure of that. She could have at least given you a nicer chair to sit in, one that didn’t look like it had been pulled out of an old classroom from the previous century. It was out of place in the room, everything else about Natasha’s bedroom predicatably nice. Even the smaller details were perfect; from the many candles that were illuminating the scene before you, to the beautiful silk bedsheets that covered the bed the other women were occupying.

God you wanted to move. But looking down and trying to work out an escape would mean tearing your eyes away from them. And the only thing worse than being made to watch would be not being able to watch. 

Everything was overwhelming to the senses. The air in the room was hot and stuffy after what felt like hours of frantic heavy breathing. Your ears rang with every sound that hit them. Pants for air. Moans of pleasure. The dark, smug chuckle of a woman who knew she was fucking someone good. The blood pulsing and ringing in your own ears as your body burned with arousal. The wet, filthy noises of the strap sinking in and out at a bruising pace.

You hated the way they were acting like you weren’t even in the room. Neither woman so much as glancing in your direction no matter how much you tried to move or how many desperate whimpers left your lips. You hated it and yet you couldn’t get enough of it.

Hoping things were about to change, you held your breath and watched quietly as for the first time that evening, Natasha slowed her pace to a stop and gave Carol a second of respite. The blonde looked absolutely spent, sucking in short, shallow breaths as she took the opportunity to push damp hair out of her face and wipe at her forehead. You waited patiently for what would happen next, hoping Natasha would acknowledge you, allow Carol to come over and release you from your restraints, that one of them would touch you, kiss you, look at you, anything. But it never came.

Instead you were left wanting, bunching your eyes closed for a second in frustration as you clenched and unclenched your fists. Natasha smirked, the only real sign that she wasn’t oblivious to your torment in the corner, gripping the underside of Carol’s thighs and pushing her further up the bed on her back. Natasha moved with her, shuffling forward on her knees and settling herself back between the other woman’s legs as she leaned down to grip Carol’s face harshly between her fingers and connect their lips. 

You were certain you started to salivate at the sight, mouth hanging slightly agape in desperate need for those to be your lips that Natasha was pushing her tongue through. The kiss looked sloppy and messy, tongues moving together as Natasha pinched her fingers harder into Carol’s cheeks and took control of the embrace.

The kiss still didn’t do much in quietening the noise in the room, especially when the red head gave a rough thrust forward and pushed the strap back into Carol who released the loudest groan yet into Natasha’s mouth. The sound was incredible, the sight even more so as you swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat and continued to watch eagerly. You were so turned on it was bordering on uncomfortable, unable to control the fruitless attempts of wriggling and squirming in your seat.

Despite the frustration, the downright torture of what was unfolding, you couldn’t think of anything you’d rather watch. Your eyes were drawn to everything, each sight sending another shiver down your spine or a twinge between your legs. You were drinking in every detail as if your life depended on it.

The way Carol’s hands had travelled above her head, gripping the sheets beneath her in a vice grip as Natasha appeared to be showing absolutely no mercy. The blondes mouth hung open, moans, whimpers and pleas leaving her with more frequency now. The rhythm of Natasha’s hips was hypnotising, hitting Carol with smooth, deep strokes that seemed to have Carol’s eyes literally rolling back into her head. The way both women’s skin glistened in the candlelight, toned muscles and soft flesh shimmering with a sheen of sweat that was evidence of just how long and how good Natasha had been fucking Carol.

Carol cried out, loud, the sound of Natasha’s name echoing off the walls and sending a shudder through your body as the red head reached down to stroke her thumb over Carol’s clit. Your jaw was starting to ache from clenching it, heart hammering now and white crescents marking your palms from balling your hands into fists. You could tell that Carol was getting close, her grip tightening on the sheets and her thighs starting to tremble either side of Natasha’s waist.

Natasha seemed to sense it too, somehow managing to pick up her bruising pace further as she leaned down to press her mouth against Carol’s.

“You gonna come for me?” taunted Natasha, a knowing smirk painting her lips as she circled her thumb more firmly over Carol’s clit.

The blonde nodded her head hurriedly, only able to offer a loud moan in response.

Natasha’s grin broadened, “Then you better make sure I hear how good I make you come.”

The way Natasha had groaned the words into Carol’s mouth, the way Carol had closed her eyes and whimpered in response, the way those words had to be for your benefit. It was all too much and yet somehow not enough. You were desperate now, and the only thing you wanted more than for someone to pay you attention, was to watch Natasha fuck Carol until she came.

Carol’s hands moved from the sheets to the top of Natasha’s thighs, fingers sinking in to her skin firmly as a silent plea not to let up. That she could take it and she needed the other woman to continue pretty much pounding her into the mattress. Not that Natasha had any intention of doing otherwise, the hand that wasn’t busy stroking over Carol’s clit coming up to grip at the headboard that was rattling and creaking with every rough thrust forward.

Your mouth was definitely watering now, your own breathing getting heavier and skin flushing hotter than you could have imagined. You were thirsty for it, maybe more so than Carol; a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach and a pressure between your legs that you knew wasn’t going to be relieved until you got what you wanted. The twitch in Carol’s fingers and the increased frequency of her moans told you it wouldn’t be long.

“That’s it.” encouraged Natasha, a strain to her own words now as the effort of her work started to take its toll on her breathing, “Come on baby, you’re doing so good.”

Carol could do nothing but take it, too far gone to be able to focus on anything but how good it felt. Every hard, deep thrust from Natasha hitting her just right. She was unsure how the red head was managing to stroke over her clit so perfectly and accurately with how wet she surely was by now but wasn’t about to complain. She could feel Natasha’s eyes burning into her with a look of pure desire and fascination, the desperation to watch her as her orgasm hit only turning her on further.

“Oh my god Nat, I’m gonna come.” Carol sounded half way between surprised and relieved, the words no more than a strangled cry at this point as her grip tightened on Natasha’s thighs and she bucked her hips up to meet the other woman’s movements, “Jesus ... yes, yes, I’m coming.”

You actually whined, features scrunching up in some sort of mixture of intense pleasure and frustration. Your arms twisted and turned in the restraints, tugging at them hopelessly as you shifted back and forth in your seat, wanting more than anything to be able to move more. If you could just have one free hand, one hand to reach into the waistband of your underwear and relieve some of the pressure.

A loud moan from Carol and a satisfied sound from Natasha distracted you from your turmoil momentarily, your mouth hanging open and a gasp caught in your throat as you watched another rough thrust from Natasha push Carol over the edge. You could do nothing but watch; Carol’s back arching off the bed, fingers digging painfully into Natasha’s thighs and toes curling into the bed sheets as she released a final groan of Natasha’s name.

“Fucking Christ.” your words came out as barely a whisper, too awestruck to even register the fact you had spoken aloud. It was hideous to be so powerless and so left out but damn if it wasn’t one of the most magnificent things you’d ever seen.

Carol was gulping in air, finally releasing Natasha’s thighs from her grip and raising her hands to her face as she panted for breath. She was sporting a grin that showed just how good the other woman had made her feel, a soft moan spilling from her lips as Natasha raised her hips enough to slowly remove the strap from her pussy.

“My god.” chuckled Carol, removing her hands from her face and tugging Natasha down to her level to connect their lips.

Natasha indulged the embrace for a moment before tilting her face a fraction to break the kiss, “Good?”

Carol nodded, pecking Natasha’s lips again, “So fucking good.”

“You think ... anyone else deserves the same?” asked Natasha.

You had been sitting impatiently but silently, knowing Natasha well enough that if you wanted something, begging and pleading was the worst tactic you could try. But at the red heads words, your head snapped up eagerly. Of course you were desperate by now, your skin still burning hot and breathing uneven despite the fact that the other women seemed to have calmed somewhat. You were sure you must have soaked through your underwear and onto the seat below you by now, your wrists sore from working against the restraints that held you in place.

Carol hummed in thought, one hand reaching up to push Natasha’s hair out of her face, “I don’t know ... I suppose she has behaved quite well while we had our fun.”

Finally. Finally they acknowledged you. Natasha turning her head to skim her eyes over you in the corner. It was obvious how much of a state you were in and she couldn’t help but smirk at the sight.

Leaning down to press a kiss to a Carol’s temple, Natasha’s eyes remained locked with yours as she spoke quietly, “Let her out of those cuffs then Captain.”

[theshelbyclan]

Angel

Summary: You cross paths with famous Thomas Shelby after killing someone he wanted dead, and you can’t help but recognise so much of yourself in this man

(Gif by @nofckingfighting​) A/N: The ever-lovely @psych0crybaby​ requested: good evening my dear. i saw that your request are open again. Could i ask for some Tommy with a total badass reader? Maybe where she saves their asses and no one knows where she is( and she just walks away) and then they see her again and ada explains to them that she mostly kills rapists and guys who harass woman because someone did the same to her when she was in the war? if you are comfortable with, if not have a good evening or day 🌺 I remember the first time I read this request and immediately being drawn to it. I did however want to do it right, you know? Like I really wanted to think about it, so I have. This comes with a warning for anyone familiar with PTSD, and some sexual abuse and assault is mentioned: this may be triggering. Sorry that it took a while to get this out, but I hope you like the result! Words: 4370 *** Breathe in. Look. See. Focus. Remember. Breath out. Throw. The first knife whooshed passed your face and hit the wall opposite you. The second followed quickly, almost magnetically. The third came after a small pause, the silence in which people feel a false sense of safety, and hit the target right in its middle. 

“You’re too pretty to be out here in the mud.” “Again,” you told yourself, “there’s four of them”. Everything comes in four, good or bad. So you moved suddenly, ducked and threw three more knives, previously hidden in your sleeves.

“You know you want it.” Like a cat you jumped up onto a roof and mid-air threw three more, taken from your pockets. But the hardest was yet to come. The last man was always hidden, always late, like that last knife. He too swished and betrayed. So from your boots, you took another knife, jumped down suddenly and planted it in the back of the invisible assailant. “Good girl…” The job was done. Now for the real work. “What happened to you?” And you told yourself, “I’m ready.” ***

“What is your concern, Tommy?” “The one minute. The soldier’s minute. In battle it’s all you get.” Thomas Shelby lived his life looking over his shoulder, but when he turned, there was nothing there. You see it happening, everything at once and there’s no avoiding it. It’s always there, right behind you. Like running through a house with the devil hot on your heels, finally finding the way out, but when you step into the garden, it starts all over again: you’re back at your starting point. You see, your body may be outside in the sunlight, but your mind is back at the house. That’s what it felt like, every day. “We live somewhere between life and death.” This is what existing is: always living somewhere between life and death, between sleep and awake. And the nightmares, they bled into the days, taking over slowly. “Is it another war you’re looking for, Tommy?” There was supposed to be one war, to end all wars. But instead, kids were sent out to die in the mud, and for what? All that blood, smoke, tears, sweat and carnage. Men blowing the whistles, boys praying and crying. Was he looking for another war? That would imply the first one had ended. “I’ll remember everything and forget nothing. I’m thinking ahead, thinking of every possibility, remembering everything that is happening…” As if he could forget. The smallest things could trigger his memories, taking him right back. When John was little, he used to be scared of a monster. Ada had told him that: that there was a witch living in the walls that you could only see in the mirrors. John didn’t sleep for weeks after her little story. And now, the monster turned out to be real, except no one believed in it anymore. Still, it was everywhere and you had to be constantly on your guard. Because it’s not just in the walls and mirrors; it’s always right behind you, creeping, slithering, crawling it’s way up your spine… And so he became a machine, no longer a human being, fuelled by whiskey and cigarettes only, always plotting. “Thomas Shelby against the whole bloody world, right?” And so he wrote, “My name is Thomas Shelby and today, I’m going to kill a man.” *** There had been five of you at home. And home was in Small Heath, though you moved house all the time. When the poverty got bad, the family was split up and you and mother went into a boarding house for women, while father and the oldest brothers went into a boarding house for men. You were alright with this, because father was a bad man, but you feared for your brothers. Mother was the sweetest woman to ever live, always making sure you ate before she did. You never noticed her withering away before it was too late. At twelve, you started working. Walking the docks and shipyards was dangerous, so your brothers tried their best to prepare you. They weren’t like the other men in Small Heath. “Take this,” one brother told you on the morning of your first shift, “Hide it, in those boots.” You’d gotten charity boots, the first one in the family! But walking in them still felt uneasy, and now he expected you to slide in a small knife as well? “When someone comes,” he continued, urging you with his fiery eyes, “you stick ‘m. Don’t wait, don’t hesitate and don’t ask any questions. When he comes, you stick ‘m and you keep on sticking ‘m!” This was the first lesson you’d been taught. Four brothers all taught their little sister and each had but one objective: keeping you safe. One gave you the knife, the other taught you how to fight and the third took the beatings your drunk father had intended for you. The fourth hadn’t any strength or knowledge to share, so he kept close. Wherever you went, he followed in the shadows, and it was like having your own guardian angel, made up of filth and smoke. When the war came, they all enlisted. Of course they did: they were good, strong and brave men. You saw them off, one by one, and after waving goodbye to your guardian angel, something inside you snapped. Inspired by their love and courage, you became a nurse and took up a post at the front. You became a guardian angel yourself. *** Tommy was looking for a war. After France, they’d taken over the Shelby enterprise again and he had ambitions of expansion. Still, there were those in Small Heath who’d forgotten about the Shelby’s and he had to re-establish their reputation. “It’s happened again, Tommy,” John said sombrely, during a family meeting. Tommy sighed and dipped his head forwards, “Will he live?” “Yeah,” his brother replied, “but what are we going to do about this?” Polly, the voice of reason, said, “You need to make an example of him, Thomas. Show him who’s in charge. We can’t have a few Irish rebels killing and beating up our runner-boys. It’s bad for business.” Tommy nodded slowly and was formulating a plan as they spoke, “He drinks at the Horse’s Head. That’s where we’ll get him.” “Are you mad?” Arthur questioned, “On any given night there’s at least fifty Irish in there. It’s like a bloody army!” “We’re not scared of some fucking Irish,” John spat. “We’re not,” Tommy looked at his aunt with whom he shared his strategic skills, “but we need to be smart about this.” “Smoke him out,” Polly added, knowing her nephew’s mind so well. “We need an incentive.” Everything was all planned out. Tommy had an explosion, a staged fight and the rum in place. The men would scatter, the police would be elsewhere and their target would run. As the pub would be set on fire, he would literally be smoked out. That’s where they would be. The plan was good, well thought out and each eventually had been dealt with.

When the night came, the first part worked like a well-oiled machine. A small explosion in the shipyards, John’s, had drawn the police away. It would take them a while too, seeing as the Communists held their meetings there. Danny Whizz-bang would be inside the pub, looking both menacingly and vulnerable enough to not attract attention among the rebels. He was doing good tonight; he’d be able to light the fire. Tommy, Arthur and a few other blinders were waiting in the alleyways. Smoke started emerging from the pub and Tommy’s head shot up at the shouts of men. As he was getting ready mentally, he thought: some day, I won’t be the one doing this work. As men started fighting and chaos ensued, he followed one insignificant figure with his eyes. This man ran, frantically, into the protection of one of the dark alleys. Tommy followed and shouted his name. The man turned and his face fell as he recognised the Shelby. He in turn grabbed his gun and pointed it at him, saying, “Don’t fuck with the Peaky Blinders.” But as Tommy was about to pull the trigger, the man fell forwards. The irritation of an eventuality not anticipated shot through Tommy and as he walked forwards, he saw a small knife sticking out of the Irish’ neck. He died on the spot. His first thought was if he could still pass this off as a killing by the Peaky Blinders, because Polly had been right: they needed to make a statement. Of course he could. His second thought lasted a lot longer and actually drove him to action: who’d done this? The angle of the knife made him look up, towards the roofs. No one was there, but Tommy still ran. As a kid, he used to climb roofs. As an adult, he dug tunnels. It’s funny how both came back to him now. Fearing whomever it was he couldn’t see, he chased the murderer. Once up, he could easily recognise the signs: someone had been on the roofs. There were bits of dust where bricks had been falling, flecks of ash where someone had been smoking and the smell of soap where someone had been waiting. Still, the killer was long gone. *** You weren’t sleeping, but sort of dreaming with one eye open. You did that a lot. Nightmares kept you vigilant, even at night. The boarding house you were living at was positively Dickensian, but you didn’t mind. You came from nothing and had little trouble going back to it. Besides, there was no money coming in at the moment, so you didn’t have the funds for any proper room.

In the dark, you thought of the men on your list. One of the best things about the boarding house was its anonymity. People who lived here were the poorest of the poorest, only surpassed by those on the streets and the working houses. No one asked any questions, no one looked at each other and shame drove people into hiding. The large room was separated into small spaces by a few curtains only, but still, there was some sense of privacy. In the darkness, you could think. The worst thing about the boarding house was the sound. It wasn’t the crying babies, children whining for food or people fighting each other, but the sound of pain. Some women wailed in their sleep and it shook you to your core every time. Your mother had sounded like that. You had too, you knew it. Early in the morning, you left. “Where are you off to, eh?” the old lady who slept next to you asked. In some ways, she was the pauper’s queen and she got away with prying. “Work,” you replied shortly. The old woman laughed a hoarse laugh, “You’re not fooling no one, dearie…” As soon as you walked onto the streets, a calmness came over you. Poverty was familiar, but it frightened you too. It was like a hand around your throat, always squeezing just a little but more. Inside, especially, it was like drowning. In Small Heath, some women had started their first shifts at the factories already and men were shovelling coal into the big machines. Sparks flew and fizzled out in your hair. Soot clung to your already filthy clothing. In other words, nothing about you looked out of the ordinary. The rest of the day was filled with you practising two skills: observing and vanishing. You listened in on conversations everywhere, while timidly looking away when anyone did notice you. Men boasted of their achievements and women complained everywhere. But you listened for any signs of cruelty and found it easily. See, in a city forgotten by civilisation, no one notices cruelty anymore. It’s part of everyday life. You, however, had decided to change that. This was your revenge, or atonement, whichever way you looked at it. One man in particular stood out to you. His eyes were cold and his shoulders broad, and when his wife came to him during his break, he slapped her without warning. Sometimes menace leaves a certain aura and you could sense it in him. When a filthy child came from the factory as well, also on a short break, you motioned the child to come over. “Hey, love,” you said softly. The child didn’t trust you, but his sunken eyes still pleaded, “What?” “Here,” you offered him a bun you’d just stolen, “I need your help.” He hadn’t eaten in days, that much was clear, and with his mouth full of crumbs, he said, “Wiff whaff?” “I’m new here in Birmingham. Where can I get a job?” He pointed, “Ask the foreman.” You smiled gently, “Thanks, love.” “Where’d you get the bun?” he inquired, less shy with each bite. “My husband bought it for me.” “You not hungry?” This child was sweet, so he’d know, “No, you have it. We got more at home.” “Okay,” and he continued absolutely devouring the pastry.   Just before he walked off again, you asked him, off-handedly, “That man, over there?” you pointed at the man with stony eyes, “You know him?” The boy fell still, “Yeah. He works here.” “What’s his name?” “Don’t know,” he whispered, “But mum told us to stay away.” “Why?” The kid shrugged, “He’s a bad man I suppose.” “Like those Shelby’s,” you tried, knowing the kid would know them like everyone around here did. It worked. “Nah,” he laughed, “the Shelby’s would never touch a woman!” “Does he?” you asked, eyes narrowing. “Mum says so. Mum says women are scared of him, because he hurts them. All of them.” You nodded slowly, “Why don’t the Peaky Blinders take care of him?” He shrugged again, “Miss? Thanks for the bun, but I really need to get back. I need my job.” “I know,” you urged him, “Go.” In France, you helped the sick and dying. This is what you had come for and you’d given up everything to do it. With the telegram of each brother found dead, you became more focussed on the work. It was like you turned into a machine, running only on adrenaline. Sometimes you would work shifts of 48 hours, simply because the other nurse had collapsed, or because the bodies wouldn’t stop coming in. Fear became second nature and fatigue had to be ignored. But being tired also made vulnerable: you learned this when one of the superior officers followed you into the halls of the makeshift hospital. Remaining on your feet after working for so long was easy, as long as you kept on moving. But when he grabbed you and you paused, your knees started buckling. Maybe it’d been the fear, maybe it was his rank and maybe it was purely that fucking bloody war, but there was no fight left in you in that moment. He had his way with you and you just… froze. Shame and guilt drove you back to England and back into the shadows you retreated. And then, shame and guilt turned into anger and the guardian angel became an avenging angel. You didn’t have to wait long. After his work was done, you followed the man with the cold eyes, watching his every move. All your fears and the kid’s warnings were confirmed in a dark corner of a filthy street. The woman never stood a chance. And so you vowed: you would end him. *** “What’s up with you?” Ada asked pointedly. Tommy’s head shot up and he stared at his sister with vacant eyes. “Thomas Shelby, the man who never eats. A rare biological mystery, he is,” Ada commented sarcastically. He grabbed a fork and picked up a potato, “I eat.” “Hardly,” Polly commented. “I have work to do, so if you ladies don’t mind…” But Ada wasn’t finished, “You’ve been lost in thought all day. Mind sharing it with us?” “No really.”

“Because we’re just women or…”

“Ada!” Tommy sighed, “Something… happened. Something unexpected and I can’t figure out how.”

“And this bothers you.”

There was something deeply infuriating about having a sister who was reading the newspaper, right next to you, but never made eye contact, and still she was absolutely right about everything. So Tommy threw his head back and admitted defeat, “Someone killed a man.”

“It’s Small Heath.”

“Someone I wanted dead, but he got there before me.”

Polly sat back down and leaned forwards, “The Irish? I though we did that.”

“Yes, that is what I had people believe.”

Ada suddenly looked up, “How?”

“I failed to take it into my calculations…”

“No. How was the Irish killed?”

Tommy blinked a few times, “A knife. Thrown from the roof.”

His sister smiled faintly, didn’t say a word and then went back to her newspaper.

“Ada…” Tommy growled, “If you know something, tell me.”

“Why? I thought you boys were taking care of business now.”

He looked at his aunt for support, almost desperate, but saw from her face that he could hope for little sympathy there.

“Fine, what do you want,” he demanded.

“Respect,” Ada said coldly.

“You have my respect.”

“Good,” she slowly flipped the page, “Now tell me you need me.”

Polly’s smirk grew into a grin and Tommy cursed all women, right there and then.

So he cleared his throat, “Ada, please, tell me.”

“It’s almost like it’s physically painful for him, isn’t it?” Polly said conversationally to Ada.

“Fucking hell…” Tommy groaned, “Ada, I fucking need your help. Please just tell me what you know!”

“Fine,” she abruptly closed the newspaper, “You need to go to that pub in Digbeth.”

“The one by the water?” Tommy frowned.

“That’s the one. Next to that boarding house that should’ve been closed years ago. That’s where you’ll find your killer.”

Immediately, he stood up. Because even though he thought he’d been subtle about it, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the incident for days now. The killer, whoever he was, had taken over his thoughts entirely. It was dark outside already, but still early enough for the pubs to be open. He’d go there at once.

“Tell her I said ‘hi’,” Ada called after him as he left.

And Tommy retraced his steps slowly, “‘Her’?”

“Her.”

He paused for a second, but when nothing else came, “You know they don’t allow women in pubs.”

“They do her,” Ada chuckled.

“Ada, stop playing these fucking games!” he shouted, as he threw down his cap in anger.

She, however, didn’t even blink and repeated, “Her. It’s a woman who killed your Irishman. All the women here know her; she takes care of a certain kind of man for us. She doesn’t want it known and she rids the world of bastards, so we leave her be. It all works out.”

Tommy turned to Polly, “Did you know of this?”

“I’ve heard of her, yes.”

“Then why the fuck has no one told me before?”

Polly sent a stern gaze at her nephew from over her teacup, “I thought you weren’t interested in women’s business.”

***

When you walked into the pub, a small nod to the man behind the bar was all that was needed. Dressing like a man had many advantages and this was definitely one of them. Still, he knew you were a woman, but after helping him out one night, you were allowed in. So you sat in the corner and became one with the furniture, drinking your whiskey in silence.

And then it happened. One man, who had no business being here, walked in. Thomas Shelby of the Peaky Blinders was considered royalty in Small Heath, so why would he be here, in this grimy little cellar pub?

The thought that he came looking for you never even crossed you mind at first. He leaned over the bar and ordered whiskey, asking a few more questions you couldn’t hear. You tried to listen more closely, but the more you did so, the more inaudible his words seemed to become.

Suddenly, he turned and looked you right in the eyes. Without a second thought, you jumped up, kicked the table towards him and made your way to the door.

“Fuck,” you heard him ground out, but still he was quick. In a flash, he had the door barricaded and a gun pointed at your head.

“Out!” he commanded everyone but you.

You felt for the reassuring blades under your clothes and relaxed a little.

“Now, Miss…” he started after everyone had left.

But you didn’t plan on being interrogated, so the first knife whooshed passed his head: a warning.

Thomas Shelby froze. Then it was like an animal awoke in him and he lunged forwards, tackling you down with him. While you were struggling, you tried to plant a second knife into his leg, but he rolled away just in time. With big eyes he stared at the weapon now stuck in the floor.

And so you were standing opposite each other, weapons of choice pointed at each other’s heads.

“Alright,” he said after a while, holding up his hands in a pacifying manner, “There’s no need to fight.”

“Spoken by a man who knows he will lose,” you replied, without missing a beat.

“You want a fight?” Tommy said quickly, “Then fight me like a man. No gun, no fucking knives. If my sister is right about you, you’ll fight me like a man.”

With that you scoffed and threw away the knives, right next to his head, into the door. It gave you such pleasure to see him shudder with each one, but your face betrayed nothing.

“Now what?” you asked.

“You tell me.”

“Fine,” you sighed and punched him in the face, hard.

As his head shot back, you noticed a flicker of surprise in his features, but he quickly recovered and his face turned emotionless yet again.

Your triumph didn’t last long. If anything, you arrogance had distracted you, so the three blows that followed from his fists came out of nowhere. One to the nose, one to the chin and the last one square in the jaw. Thank God you weren’t vain.

You took a breath in, made yourself focus and quickly jabbed him two times, before hitting him right in the eye with a mean left hook.

“Jesus Christ…” he muttered, “Who the fuck taught you how to fight like that?”

“My brothers,” you replied, before you could stop yourself.

Tommy held up his hands and his two punches to your gut literally took your breath away. Meanwhile, he said, “Why aren’t they here to defend you now, eh?”

“Do I look like I need to be fucking defended?” With a sudden kick you were certain you cracked at least on of his ribs.

Wheezing, he leaned over, but managed to grab your leg in the process and flipped you over onto the ground, “Brothers still do.”

“They’re dead,” you said from the floor, “the Somme,” and with one quick motion, you’d tackled him with your legs, “What about you?”

“The Somme too. Verdun…”

Before he could recover, you climbed on top of him and started pounding his pretty face with your fists. Unfortunately, he quickly bucked you off and hit you with a nasty uppercut, which made you wonder about your teeth.

You crawled back a little and felt with a hand at your mouth: blood. Tommy leaned against the wall and was still panting, lightly tracing a hand over his ribs. The chaos subdued and you both rested.

“Are we done?” he growled.

You stared at him with a look that told him you could go on for hours like this, “What is it that you want?”

“I just want to talk.”

Quickly, you started thinking out your options. Clearly, he knew who you were and evidently, you’d killed the wrong person this time. Really, it was bound to happen at some point.

“Who was it?” you asked, “the one you didn’t want dead.”

“I did want him dead,” he said as he slowly lifted his cigarette case from his pocket.

“Then what’s the problem?”

He smiled a little and the gesture was so unexpected that the feeling it gave you caught you completely off-guard, “I wanted to be the one to kill him.”

You furrowed your brows, thought back and suddenly nodded slowly, “The Irishman.”

He pointed at you with his cigarette in hand, “That’s the one.”

In the silence that followed, you watched this man, this broken boy. His eyes started glazing over and you knew he drifted off to placed in the distant past. As he smoked slowly, you recognised the signs of a flashback so well and you suddenly became more curious than ever about this man.

He saw the same thing in you evidently, because out of the blue he said, “You and me. I think we understand each other.”

“Do we?” you said in a voice that demanded distance.

He nodded a little, “We kill.”

You laughed a cold laugh, “Are you insane like me?”

“Maybe I am…”

“Or just in pain like me?” you added.

He didn’t speak for a long time, like he was thinking what to say next, but then, suddenly, he broke the pregnant silence. “Who hurt you?” he asked, in a voice so low it was almost inaudible.

You leaned forwards and locked eyes with him, fire burning inside them, “Everyone.”

Tommy sat back and offered you a cigarette, but soon realised you wouldn’t take it from his hands without expecting abuse from them. So he threw it your way and you grabbed it gratefully. When you lit it, the two of you leaned against the wall in the same manner, postures similar.

“It’s time,” he announced, looking up at the ceiling.

You cocked one eyebrow, “Is it?”

“The minute is almost up.”

“And how does it end?”

He sighed, “With names. You’ve beaten me. I’m no longer Mr. Thomas Shelby. It’s Tommy now.”

And you smiled at him softly and replied with your own vulnerability, “Y/N.”

***

Masterlist

[joonie-beanie]

The King

So.

Earlier today I said this:

And then felt like writing a little bit of action/angst for a change.

The outcome is below.

All you can hear is the sound of your racing heartbeat.

“Y/N, go.”

It’s Lucifer’s command, and yet your feet won’t move.

You can barely breathe.

“Look at that. What a pathetic creature.”

The demon on the other end of the room steps forward—barely able to contain his human form as power leaks from his body. Skin slides from one side of his face, peeling from the bone with little resistance. A skull shrouded in a screen of buzzing magic is revealed, and the world seems to stand still.

Your legs shake. You’ve been around powerful demons during your stay, but none have exuded so much power that you’re literally unable to react. You know that you should be listening to Lucifer—turning tail and running from the Castle as quickly as you can—but your body remains immobile with fear.

“Father, please,” Diavolo steps forward, his arms open, but no talking shall be had.

The King of the Devildom looks at his son—the remaining skin on his face melting away as he speaks.

“I trust our kingdom to you in my time of slumber—and this is what I find.”

His hallow gaze turns to you once more. You feel as if you’ve been hit by a train—only able to watch as a black, thorned halo appears above his head. In the next beat, a cloak flares around him like fire—dark as night, and composed solely of his power. It shrouds him like armor—a display of his immense strength—and the demons around you involuntarily shiver.

Ahead of you, Diavolo slowly lowers his arms. He knows that this is not a topic his father will entertain through an open discussion.

The Devildom Prince summons his demonic form, his own magic rising on his skin as he regards the King with bright eyes.

His father can hardly contain his rage at the display.

“I am your KING, boy! You and your court seem to have forgotten that you are nothing but an uncrowned heir.” The demon holds his head high, power extending throughout the room. It feels like the force of gravity has changed, and your knees give out. The only thing keeping you from falling to the floor is Mammon, who is quick to grab your elbow. When you glance to him, you can see the fear in his eyes. The typically loud-mouthed demon has never looked so serious.

“I leave the realm to you in the hope that you continue my path, and yet here you are—,” a sour laugh leaves the King. “Entertaining humans--,” you suddenly remember that you’re not the only exchange student present—your eyes shifting over to look at Solomon, who has broken into a cold sweat. “—and even angels.”

A few paces behind you, Simeon has Luke tucked behind his back.

“Have the demons forgotten that we are not meant to be friends to everyone?”

The King paces forward, and you see the brothers flinch. They’re more on edge than you’ve ever seen—their demons forms materializing as they watch Diavolo’s father with unwavering gazes.

None of them have forgotten the King, and the way he’d ruled the Devildom before Diavolo had taken the throne. There was always trouble between the realms—demons causing mischief, and ruining balance. Trust was basically nonexistent with the celestial realm, and in time, the King had hoped to stage a revolution. To gain more power for himself—to let all beings know that demons have always been, and will continue to be, the superior race.

When the King had handed the torch off to Diavolo—electing to slumber and reserve his power until the time was right—he’d blindly assumed that his son held his ideals. That he’d conditioned Diavolo well enough to be the perfect heir—a mere vessel for his will.

It’s not until right now that he realizes how wrong he was in doing so.

His son had tricked him—hidden away his true intentions until the moment he relinquished power. And the King can only assume based on the fact that angels and humans are currently infesting his home, that Diavolo had plotted all along to undo the chaos he’d wrought.

His son is the complete opposite of him, and has clearly been working to establish balance between the three worlds in his absence.

The King cannot continue to let this go on.

“This mutiny ends today.”

The demon raises his hand—fingers spread wide. Diavolo lurches forward, grabbing his father’s wrist—the King now nothing more than a skeleton shrouded by raw magical energy—and yanks it towards the sky. Not a moment later, a pillar of dark light extends from the King’s hand—completely obliterating the ceiling above his head. The entire castle shakes—sizable chunks of debris raining overhead.

A hand grabs your wrist, tugging you backwards. Whipping your head around, you note that the hand belongs to Solomon. The sorcerer has gone white in the face—his eyes wide, and footsteps hurried as he leads you to the exit at the rear of the room. Simeon and Luke are already ahead of you, practically running to escape as Barbatos ushers them into the hall.

As your fellow human drags you away, you can’t help but glance back at the demon brothers you’ve come to love. Their hackles have risen—power leaking from their forms as they ready themselves for the King’s next move.

“We can’t just leave them to fight!” you say, finally managing to find your voice. However, despite your worry for them, you don’t allow yourself to stop in your escape—your pace quick as Barbatos leads the group of exchange students through the corridors.

Around you, the palace shakes once more. There’s so much magic in the air that you can almost see it crackling.

“Y/N, you must understand that what’s about to happen is something you cannot aid in,” Barbatos informs you, pulling open a door that leads to the garden behind the castle. “Right now, we need to get you all to safety.”

“We’ll take them to the celestial realm with us,” Simeon pipes up, his voice tight. Despite being an angel, and a fairly powerful one at that, he’s aware of how dangerous the current situation is. As much as he would love to stay and help his fallen brothers, it is not his place to meddle with royal affairs. Especially ones that are shaping up to be a coup.

Mind reeling, you hardly have a moment to stop and collect your thoughts—not until you realize you’re standing on the portal to the celestial realm. Luke reaches out to grab your hand as a tremor shakes the earth at your feet.

You feel as if your heart is being torn from your chest.

“Barbatos! Please, I can’t leave them—you, and Diavolo—like this—”

“Y/N,” he interrupts you with a smile. The butler is obviously worried himself, and yet the look on his face is kind as ever. “Lord Diavolo has been preparing for this day for hundreds of years. The awakening of the King at this time was not expected, but you must trust in the Prince, as well as Lucifer and his brothers. They are the strongest demons in the Devildom. They will live to see you again.”

You open your mouth to protest, but end up biting your lip. You grip Luke’s hand tightly, tears welling in your eyes.

There’s nothing you can do that will be of any help to them.

“We will be in contact with you soon,” Barbatos assures Simeon, the portal at your feet activating with a dim glow. The angel nods.

“Please. Be safe, my friends.”

The magic at your feet grows brighter, but before the portal can whisk you away, there’s a loud bang from the castle.

You look up just in time to see Belphegor rocketing through the castle's outer wall—completely limp as debris falls around him. Beel appears through the plume of forming smoke a beat later—wings fluttering behind him as he reaches out, trying to get a grip on his twin brother.

Even from a distance, you can tell that they’re both covered in blood.

“Be--!,” you open your mouth, trying to call out to them, but the Devildom disappears from in front of you. The next moment, your eyes are assaulted by the brilliant scenery of the celestial realm. Your legs immediately give out, and you collapse onto the pavement at your feet.

You think you hear Simeon calling out to you, but his voice sounds so far.

You’re too overwhelmed.

Everything goes black.

[wyn-n-tonic]

Golden, Like Daylight -- Part IV

Word Count: 1,925 Warnings: PTSD. Drug use. Ben Affleck. Panic attacks. Bullet wounds. Smut (not explicit but it's there). A/N: Your kind words mean literally everything to me and I have been sobbing between the warmth shown to me over this series and also how much I love Francisco Morales and want the absolute best for him.

MASTERLIST | PART: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX

Gif by: @uuuhshiny

Luna hasn’t stopped wailing since Sunday, the one and only day Frankie said he wouldn’t be able to call.

It’s Thursday and both their lungs are close to giving out.

One Morales woman hyperventilating herself into fitful sleeps, the other only sobbing through held breaths in stolen lonely moments of peace and quiet.

Kristyn had taken up residence in the spare room, making sure Leah slept and ate. She was the one who cashed in Leah’s sick days with the school, forging a bullshit sick note when she went into work.

Leah is currently distraught because her husband might be dead in South America, we don’t know.

That’s what the first one said, dashed out on the keyboard in a petty moment of frustration. She might be the only one of Leah’s sisters who didn't want to lob his fucking head off every time she shed a tear but it didn’t mean she never wanted to do it.

Patient is suffering from a prolonged migraine and intensive nausea. Follow up appointment scheduled for next Thursday at 9am.

That should fucking do it but she’ll have to start checking off the vacation days soon. Dip into family leave for Luna.

Alexa held her on that first Monday, talking her through the panic in a puddle of spilled coffee. The paper cup splashing across their knees in the hallway as concern emanated from the AP Lit room at their backs.

Somewhere at the base of the Andes, her husband was being pried out of a crashed helicopter by the only other men she’d ever truly loved. William was shot, Benny was reckless. She felt it all in her body as she was driven home, helped into the shower, held in her bed but not by the arms she craved.

“He's coming home,” Deana brought dinner that night, her big sister cutting into her steak like she was a child at risk of choking again, “he will do anything he can to make sure of that.”

“What if he doesn’t, D?” Leah’s taken on the stare, everything and nothing all at once, “what if he doesn’t come home this time?”

“I promise you, Lee, okay?” She reaches out to push aside hair damp with tears, “I've never seen a man so in love.”

“Yeah…” she’s quiet, “he promised me too.”

And she told him to stop making promises because he doesn’t keep them.

I think you put a baby in me, Francisco Morales.

The tears well over her eyes, spilling onto already salt stained cheeks.

He made love to her like it was the last time he would ever see her, the last chance he would ever get. He poured his entire being into her, drunk off the feel of their bodies together. She could feel him in the hollow of her ribs, an aching that called out for the comfort of his beating heart against hers again.

Would that be so bad?

She sobbed out, startling Luna’s own ragged cries again, afraid that she would never know warmth against her cold hands again.

—————

“Hey,” they're huddled against the onslaught beneath a barely-there cliff, labored breathing in tandem, “you still with me?”

Frankie’s panic attack came on slowly, a rolling storm in the distance the moment the helo crashed in the valley.

Bad landing.

His fight or flight response has his lungs in a vice grip but he still manages a laugh, “I think I should be the one asking you that.”

“You know it’s gonna take a lot more than a stray bullet to fuck me off,” he’s smiling but Frankie knows how much blood he’s lost, how long it takes for a wound like that to clot without medical intervention.

It’s true, it’ll take a lot more than a stray bullet to take William Miller but that was before, when they had back up. Out here, though? Surrounded by his brothers in arms? Having done what he just did?

Francisco Morales has never felt more alone.

“Fish,” William hits his knee against his, “where are you?”

His eyes refocus on the tepid water pounding all around him, the world coming back as he takes a deep breath, “are you afraid, Will?”

“You gotta be more specific, Frank, I’m terrified of everything.”

He’s quiet when he speaks, “me too,” barely above the downpour.

He sees Will nod in his peripheral, “I know.”

“Will, I’m afraid I’ll never see them again,” and when he chokes, he realizes he’s been crying.

“No, you can’t think like that.”

“I know, but I can’t stop it either, like…” trailing off, he lifts his face to the pressure of the water; it’s the sweetest thing he’s felt in days, “what if this is the last shower I ever take?”

“Fish…” Will reaches for him but he’s cut short.

“No, listen to me. If anything happens to me out he—“

“Nothing is going to fucking hap—"

“Shut up and let me finish,” his rage and sadness is burning hot through him, it takes everything within his being not to choke on air as he speaks again. “If anything happens to me out here, Will, take care of my girls. Please.”

The blond nods his head, heavy with exhaustion and pain, “until the very end of my life, Frankie.”

The relief that spreads through his body is better than any drug he ever tried, he feels himself slipping into an upright sleep, his heart at peace for the first time since he left his bed.

“But,” Will’s voice catches him on the edge of consciousness, “I would also face down the end of my life to make sure you see them again, do you understand me? If the only thing standing between you and a bullet is me, don’t fight. Leave me there and run like hell. You’re going back to your family.”

“But if I don’t make it…”

“Fish,” Will's laugh is drenched in the space between them, “are you saying it’s your last will and testament for me to marry your wife?”

“Fuck off,” his words are clipped, strained, “and don’t call me Fish.”

—————

They still, eyes up to the screen of the baby monitor as they hold their breath for another sound from Luna’s room. The baby settles back into silence, her small chest rising and falling on the grainy feed.

He remembers Leah opening the military grade surveillance equipment at the baby shower, the shake of her laughter as she held onto Benny’s shoulder to anchor herself to the chair.

“Should we check on her?” It’s small, a rushed question of a concerned mother.

“I said a baby monitor, Benjamin, not a prison security camera.”

“Absolutely not,” Ben grabs her hand, “This is better than any of that shit you’ll find at Target. Video means there’s no wondering either, you can just look up and assess the situation, more rest. That’s important, you’ll need to savor the little that you get.”

He pushes a lock of hair from her face, damp with the tears of the day and the sweat of the night, “no, baby, we don’t want to disturb her.”

“Yeah,” Will chimes in, his beer bottle held loosely in his hands, “Frankie should’ve been training you on sleep deprivation this whole time, you’re spec ops yourself now.”

“But what if she wakes up?”

“Well…” the corner of his mouth lifts to close the fan at the corner of his eyes, “it’s a good thing she can’t see us through that thing, right?”

“Francisc—“ the irritation of his name is finished in a heady moan lured from her body by another slow drag of his hips.

The crook of his nose slots against hers as he finds her lips again, the warmth of the room around them is nothing compared to their mouths on each other. Bathing in shared heat, her fingers entwine into the curls at the crown of his head, the other hand palm up to his chest. And as the beating of his heart races towards her burning touch, he submerges himself once again.

His firm grip holds the hinge in her leg, fingers digging into the sensitive skin that fills her lungs with fits of laughter and light. He braces himself against the bed, the aching in his forearm dulled by the soft, breathless whimpers intoxicating his entire being.

His voice is washed out when he finds it, “mi sol,” lips dragging across her own, “mis estrellas.”

Her eyes find his, heavy with admiration and trust. “Francisco,” she is drunk and drowning in the love of this man, “finish me.”

He shifts to cradle her jaw and as he trails his other hand up her thigh, he sinks within her once more. Finding his release against her own, he is convinced they’ll never be able to fully untangle again.

He presses a kiss to her nose.

My sun.

Her forehead.

My stars.

Her lips.

My whole sky.

—————

I think you put a baby in me, Francisco Morales.

He snaps back to reality, Santi and Tom’s voices echoing all around them.

His head is hot, he’s pushing past Will with concern set so deeply in his eyes he fears he’ll break right there.

Would that be so bad?

“Fucking bullshit!” Tom’s face is red, Santi having finally said what all of them are thinking.

He feels the weight of Leah in every fiber of his being, slotted perfectly against his body.

“We're all on the hook for this, are we not?”

I should’ve said no.

“God damn this fucking horse! Stop it!”

All those years blinded by loyalty to authority, Frankie never talked back to his leader but the man in front of him isn’t a leader. He’s a whiny child who’s lost his toys and Frankie hates him.

Biting back what he wants to say, he holds his hand up in a show of camaraderie, “Relax.” His finger quirks up as if he’s scolding a tantrum, “Relax. We’re not picking at the fucking scab right now, okay?”

Tom stares him down, like he’s weighing an argument against him too but Frankie’s done. He meets the taller man’s gaze, this man he would’ve died for.

“One foot in front of the other. Come on.”

This man he almost has died for.

“Let's go. Jesus fucking Christ.”

His true allegiances don’t lie to this man anymore or the gun at his hip. Not the money or the mules. He left that splintered fantasy about twenty feet back.

He’d throw this man over if it meant going home right now.

The money too.

None of it is worth a goddamn thing to him if it means he’ll never see the way that the light bounces off the gold in Leah Morales’ eyes ever again.

The same honeyed flakes in the brown of his daughter’s bright gaze.

I think you put a baby in me, Francisco Morales.

He made love to her like it was the last time he would ever see her, the last chance he would ever get. He wanted to pour his entire being into that woman, ensure that he would live on if lost to the Colombian jungle off a narco's bullet.

Would that be so bad?

He was scared but, truly, would it be so bad?

But it would be because he could truly leave her with nothing. No money, no husband, no father to her babies.

He lost count of the days he hadn’t called.

He makes his way up the mountain, following Tom’s bitching, wishing it was Leah leading him home instead.

TAG LIST: @justanotherblonde23 | @greeneyedblondie44 | @icanbeyourjedi | @princess76179 | @bbuckysbeardd | @notcookiebelle | @knivesareout | @empress-palpat1ne​

[pascalpanic]

Blood, Sweat, and Tears (Javier Peña x f!Reader)- Chapter Three

Summary: You meet Javier for the third time. Additionally, you both begin to discover how much the Murphys love to meddle.

W/C: 2.3k 

Warnings: language, innuendo

A/N: This is where things start to get interesting! I’m so in love with this fic and can’t wait for all of you to hopefully love these two like I do! This chapter was really fun to write (Steve and Javi are so much fun) and from here, it’s the interesting stuff!

p.s. this gif makes me WEAK... do you know how badly I want to make Javi smile 🥺

previous chapter | next chapter

You’ve known Javier Peña for a total of five days now, have met him twice, but he’s still all you can think about. Lorena catches on easily that something has put you in a dreamy and lovely mood as you hum and smile to yourself, folding the linens for beds. 

“¿Quiubo, Ana?” She asks, bumping into your side and teasingly asking you what’s up in Colombian slang. Your name is not Ana, no, but the girls around here love to call you it; they derived the nickname from americana. As much as it bugs you, it’s better than gringa, your original name around here.

You shake your head, ponytail swinging lightly behind you. “It’s nothing,” you shrug, but you’re smiling, and Lorena giggles a little. 

“Nothing my ass. Tell me, who is it? It’s gotta be someone, right?” She asks, and you smile a little wider, shaking your head again. “No one smiles while doing the goddamn sheets, chica.”

Shrugging, you wrap up a blanket and giggle. “Well, there’s a guy, yes,” you finally admit, biting your lip as you think about him. His face, his handsome face, the way you made him laugh. That seemed rare from a man like him. 

Lorena squeals and bounces, her dark and curly ponytail following her movements. “Tell me everything. Come on, I’m your best friend, you know you can,” she whines, grabbing your arm.

You yank your arm away to continue folding the sheets, but you still have a dreamy smile as you think about him. “Well, I met him at the gym. The night that woman died,” you tell her, and both of you droop softly at the memory, though the excitement returns as you think of Javier again. “His name is Javier. Oh my god, he’s so handsome,” you laugh as you picture him. “He’s got this mustache, right? It looks so 70s but it’s so hot on him.”

Wiggling her eyebrows, Lorena laughs and picks up some sheets, helping you fold them. “All the better when his mouth is between-“

“Lori!” You squeal and push her teasingly, laughing at her terrible thoughts. “Jesus Christ,” you groan, but the smile remains plastered on your face. 

“Estás tragada, Ana,” she practically sings as she sees the look on your face. It’s another slang term around here- literally, it means you’ve been swallowed; figuratively, that you’re head over heels. 

Rolling your eyes, you toss a folded sheet down on the table. “I’ve known him for five days.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t be completely in love with him,” she teases. Lorena is young, only 19, full of dreams and hope. She’s similar to the Disney princesses you grew up on, you think, huge brown eyes gleaming and dark waves bouncing along with her. 

You shake your head. “Don’t you have a catheter or something to go do?” You tease her, chuckling as her expression sours. “Go on, ¡ábrase!”

Lorena rolls her eyes and leaves the room. “Tragada!” She shouts before closing the door, leaving you to your folding. 

-

Javier lights a cigarette, watching the smoke trail from the end of it. It’s hypnotic for a moment, exactly what he needs to keep his mind off of the two most pressing matters in his head right now: the paperwork in front of him, and you. He takes a drag from the cigarette and exhales for a moment before sipping the coffee in front of him, expression dropping from completely neutral to a frown when Steve sits down in front of him.

“Mornin’, Javi,” the blonde man grumbles as he plops down in his office chair, taking a long swig from the large coffee mug he holds. Javi raises his eyebrows quickly in greeting before turning back to his paperwork, but Steve is in a chatty mood today. Unsurprising, Javier thinks, as Murphy starts talking again. “Spare one?” He asks, nodding to the cigarette.

Groaning, Javier nods and hands him one and his lighter. “You owe me around $30 in spares now,” he says teasingly, his mind elsewhere. 

Steve rolls his eyes as he brings it to his lips and lights it. “Real friends don’t keep running tabs.” “We’re not friends, we’re partners,” Javier says, trying to sound threatening, but they both know it’s a lie. Steve is Javier’s best, if not only, friend. 

“Speakin’ of friends, heard from Connie that you’ve got a new one. One that does more than fuck you,” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “You wanna tell me ‘bout her?”

The cigarette returns to Javier’s lips for another long and slow drag before he bothers responding. “No.”

Murphy laughs a little at that, sipping his own mug of coffee. “Good news for you then. You don’t have to. The word around the hospital is that she’s completely smitten with you,” he informs the man across from him, the coffee mug covering the lower half of his face.

That finally grabs Javier’s attention, causing him to lift a brow in curiosity. Steve grins. “So you do like her as more than something warm at night,” he chuckles a little, setting down his mug. “And you haven’t even kissed her yet, wow,” he nods, observing Javier’s reactions and reading them. 

Javier rolls his eyes and Steve laughs again. “I’ll have to tell Connie all about how you feel. Maybe that girl’ll get the nerve before you and make the first move.” “Don’t you fucking dare, Murphy,” Javier practically hisses at him, leaning across his desk. 

“Wow,” Steve chuckles and leans back in his seat, dragging out the vowel of the word. “You’re really into her.” “I am not some teenage boy you can poke and prod and call chicken, Stephen,” Javier threatens, annoyance clearly growing. “What I do with my love life is none of your fucking business, unlike you and Connie seem to think,” he says with force, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest.

“Jesus, Jav. Just trying to help,” he shakes his head and drinks the last of his coffee, standing. He takes Javier’s mug too, heading for the coffee machine in the break room. “One last thing: Connie told me that the girl gets off at 6 tonight, and she’s going to the gym after.” Steve smirks a little and turns away.

“Fuck you, Murphy!” Javier shouts after the man, who’s walking to the break room with a little more pep in his step. 

Murphy flips Javi the bird over his shoulder. 

-

As you walk to the gym, the sweltering heat of Colombia doesn’t annoy you as much as normal. You’re already about to be sweating your ass off, it’s fine. The sun is slowly slipping down the horizon, not quite at sunset yet, casting a golden glow over the crowded streets. 

Someone in the street is singing, and it fills the warm air just the way the humidity does. He’s talented, playing a guitar too, and you toss a 50 peso coin in his case as you pass. You hum along, the song familiar to you thanks to the radio, even murmuring the words to yourself. It’s an absolutely beautiful evening, and the only thing that could make it more beautiful would be encountering the beautiful DEA agent who has occupied a corner of your mind for the past week

Turning the corner, you spot the entrance to the gym, and notice that the door is being opened by a man with slightly wavy brown hair and a neat mustache- Javier, you grin to yourself. You jog a little to catch up, calling his name, and his eyes seem to glimmer a little as he hears you. 

You’ve never seen the man in the daylight, and it’s truly a sight to behold. The light accentuates the hills and valleys of his skin, the slight hook of his nose, and most importantly his stunning eyes. The light catches them just right, showing the depth in those shimmering brown rings around his irises. His hair is lighter than you thought, when it hasn’t been dampened by sweat, and shines in the sunlight just like the rest of him does. “Fancy seeing you in the daylight,” you tease, an easy smile crossing your face. 

Javier is noticing the exact same things about you. His lips tug up in one corner at the way your ponytail bounces and swings with your steps, your beautiful skin in the golden-hour sun, the way your smile lightly crinkles your nose. He opens the door for you and follows you inside. “It is different, I agree. So no graveyard shift tonight?” He asks you.

Nodding, there’s a genuinely excited smile on your face. “Yep. For the next two weeks, I only work days. I can’t wait, oh my god,” you sigh, tightening your ponytail and shoving your bag into a locker. “How about you? This is an odd hour for a man with your job,” you ask. 

The man simply shrugs. “Believe it or not, I get off at about 5:30 every night. I usually end up at the office for much longer, considering the workload.”

That surprises you. “Holy fuck, you’re kidding,” you laugh, unable to believe it, but Javier simply shakes his head, confirming it to be true. “Do you at least get paid overtime or something?”

“It’s not manual labor or anything, so no. It’s just expected of you when you’re on this kind of job,” Javier shrugs, walking to the boombox before you can and turning on a station of lively Colombian music. 

“I’d die. I’d literally die,” you laugh, adjusting your tank top and making your way to an elliptical. 

“You save people for a living. I deal with a lot of blood, and I can barely handle it; meanwhile, it’s your literal job to deal with that stuff,” he shakes his head and gets on a treadmill, a couple of yards away from you and facing the same wall.

“Different people are suited for different work, I suppose,” you shrug as you begin moving, enjoying the relaxation that comes with the moment. 

The two of you continue on your respective cardio machines for a while, before you break the silence and pause the machine to take a swig of water. “Where’s your water bottle, huh?” You ask him. 

Javier stops his machine as well, amusement in his eyes. “You know, I don’t seem to be able to get as hard of a workout in when you’re around. Too much chatter,” he teases, raising an eyebrow. 

You’ve been known to babble, too much sometimes, and that makes a little bubble of anxiety pop inside your stomach. “Shit, I’m sorry Javier,”’ you shake your head and turn back to the machine. “I’ll stop-”

“I never said I don’t enjoy it,” he says, the deadpan cracking and a small smile tugging across his face. It makes the anxiety dissipate as easily as it formed, the way he smiles at you and those beautiful eyes meet yours. “Like you said when we met. It’s nice to talk to an American,” he shrugs simply, crossing his arms for a moment before letting them drop again. “Especially one like you.”

You giggle softly at that, biting down on your lip and looking down. When you look up, Javier has turned the machine back on and is holding a comfortable jog. Fine, so that’s how he wants to play it. You bite down harder on your lip to hold back a stupidly lovestruck grin from crossing your face, instead turning back to your machine and getting moving again. 

A while later, a few snarky comments from each of you, the 30-minute period the cardio machines run comes to an end. You both sigh, panting and regaining your breath, as you try your hardest to keep your eyes off the man in the large mirrored wall. He’s handsome when he’s working out too, you’ve known that since the first time you met him, his tan skin flushed and tinged with pink. The sweat coats his forehead and you wonder if it’s uncomfortable to have that mustache when he’s exercising- maybe you should ask, you consider, but immediately change your mind. He already finds you nosy, you’re sure, you don’t need to push it more. 

The man turns to you, hands on his waist. “Weightlifting competition?” He asks, a smirk on his face as he breathes heavily.

“Oh, you’re fucking on, Peña,” you laugh, grabbing your water bottle and taking a long swig from it. You set it down on a weightlifting bench a few moments later after you find your way to a squat rack. “Let’s do squats, huh?” You ask, already moving to put your preferred weight on the bar. 

Javier tries to hold back his discontent when he sees the weights you’re loading onto it. “I was really hoping for maybe a bench press or something, but I guess I never specified,” he murmurs, sitting on the bench and waiting for you. 

When you’re all set, you get under the bar and lift it on your shoulders, walking forward and doing a couple of squats. You make eye contact with Javier and shoot him a wink, earning a little chuckle and a twitch of the top lip, hidden beneath his mustache. You walk it back and set the bar down, then crack your back softly and look at him. “Go for it,” you say, gesturing to the rack. 

“I suppose I can’t back out now,” he nods, getting under the bar in a similar way to you and letting out a grunt. “Fuck, you’re strong,” he grits out as he stands up, the bar resting on his traps. He does one squat, with effort, then returns it to the holding spot. “Okay, you win.”

You whoop happily, throwing your hands in the air and laughing. “Jesus, maybe it’s a good thing you’re coming here more often,” you tease, moving to take the weights off the bar. 

“Maybe it is,” he chuckles to himself as he removes the weights from the other side of the bar, thinking about it. It is good for him; he gets to see you. 

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