#and my hand isn't in as much pain as expected

[bettystonewell]

TO YOU I BELONG: CHAPTER 15

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Summary: Dean isn't looking for a mate, and the last place he expects to meet his soulmate is while on a case. Fate ain't real. He still has free will, and saving you is just another part of the job. Except, monsters aren't the only things you need saving from... 18+ only MDNI

Chapter Word Count: 7k words

Chapter Warnings: the usual angst, pregnancy feels, jealousy and talk (I absolutely made a couple of jokes about the grosser side of things), fluff, bit more of a case towards the end

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His son. His boy. Dean had been right all along, and was now trying extremely hard not to rub it in your face. It was easier said than done when you needed some serious cheering up.

Not that you weren’t ecstatic, either. You very much were. You’d shed a tear. A happy one that he’d swiped up with his thumb before helping you get down from the examination table. You’d squeezed his fingers and swiped your own thumb over his when he had. Been extra affectionate. Stuck by his side, hand under his flannel, rubbing and smoothing his shirt over the muscles in his back.

But through all that, ever since the doc had mentioned risks, there was a strain in your face. A sourness to your sweet apple that had him more concerned than he’d already been. 

Were you scared? Because he still was. He couldn’t stop thinking about you being in pain, especially knowing the ride to the hospital would be more uncomfortable than he’d first realised. 

He didn’t want to imagine what a mango might feel like passing through any hole of his, let alone a watermelon, though he suspected that wasn’t quite your problem. Anyone excited to compare their offspring to a piece of fruit every other week couldn’t be that terrified of the size differences.

No. There was something else, and when he had you alone in Baby after you’d taken that long awaited leak. After being given the grand tour of the clinic’s birthing suites. After another milkshake at his ‘favourite’ diner, (and an extra trip to the bathroom for you), he’d made space for you under his wing. Held the steering wheel with his left, and gone in, guns a-carefully tucked away in their holsters. 

“So… What’re we thinking?” His gaze flicked to his phone in your hand as he settled Baby into the right turning lane, waiting for the light to go green. “Cookie Monster’s cousin, or the bigger one with the tassels?” 

You were flicking back and forth through the photos he’d taken of them the night before. It had to have been the thousandth time since leaving the clinic; surprising that your thumb wasn’t suffering an RSI injury. 

You lowered the screen and side-eyed him. A pout to your lips that was meant to be one of anger. Only Dean caught the twitch of your cheek. Course, it helped that your scent was calm and sweet again. 

He grinned, and it only grew when your elbow poked into his ribs. “You’re sleeping with the blue one tonight,” you said.

Really? “Are you gonna be there too, or am I downgraded?” And was he cruel enough to lose the thing accidentally at the hospital when the time came?

Of course he wasn’t. Maybe. 

“Depends on if you insult my cushion choices again.” Your head dropped back into your lap and the phone in it as Dean took the turn.

He held you tighter, patting with placating in mind once he was certain you’d all remained upright. “C’mon. You gotta admit it looks like someone hacked up a muppet.” All it needed was ping-pong balls and a felt-tip marker. He had plenty of knives to cut out a mouth with.

“I’d say it’s softer. Fluffier. And it has a nice smell.” 

“So what’s the point of me scenting it, then?” Surely he could sleep with a throw instead. 

“It’s nice because it’s neutral,” you said. “Still smells like the factory, so it’s perfect to pick up yours.”

So was the blanket you’d bought at Walmart if he remembered correctly. The one that was similar to what your mom had given you. 

“The fuzz holds the scents, huh?” he asked, and you nodded, hummed, oblivious to where his train of thought was going. 

“It’s polyester. If it was wool or cotton, it’d be better. But they treat it with something that balances out the other chemicals they use.”

Dean was following the motions, steering the car home like he was driving over the back of his hand. Sure, he was hearing words here and there. Your ramblings about fibres and the texture on your skin. How the zip, hidden on the muppet, would be more comfortable for your son. That he paid the most attention to, and his jaw loosened because of it. Legs fell further apart, bringing his knee to hang over yours at you, mentioning him as him. He had to adjust his boot on the pedal to maintain speed. 

Lucky there was no one behind him. 

The city was quiet for a Monday. People did, in fact, have jobs to go to. Either that or they were all congregated at the pup store again, shopping up storms. 

Nah. Couldn’t be.

The diner was dead. No older omegas judged him for a change. Even the hospital adjoining the clinic and the maternity ward had been scarce of people.

There were no moans or groans. No wailing from little lungs taking their first breaths even. Just you and Cameron, making plans with words that suited the likes of the Dothraki or some cute and cuddly Ewok. 

Epidurals meant less pain. Jaundice was the fancy-pants term for yellow skin caused by Billy Reuben. Braxton Hicks were the douchebags of the contracting world. Oh, and you might tear… He knew healing would take a while, but actual stitches not even the epidural could prevent? Yeah, he wasn’t prepared for that. Why hadn’t that come up in his research?

The kicker that had brought you on this tangent, thus evading your true crux, though? “The clinic allows for one large suitcase of nesting supplies,” the nurse had said. “As long as it fits into the dimensions, you can bring it.” And that he understood.

The place wanted to be a freaking airport. 

Blankets, pillows and floof checked-in. The bag with things for you and the pup, more like cabin baggage handled at security. The six times he’d flown had been enough to understand that experience. That was an ordeal. 

“Is it checked?” you’d asked, concerned about anyone and everyone getting their mitts on everything you’d carefully selected and scented.

“We won’t touch anything,” she assured you, but the ‘but’ was there and obvious. 

There’d be no passing go with any more than what their baggage allowance allowed, which, of course, was a rule for all patients. Dean could appreciate that. Unlike Nurse killjoy and the rest of the medical staff, however, they didn’t see the hours of preparation and stress you’d put into your birthing nest before the tour. And that was just what he’d seen in the last twenty-four.

He knew you. Knew your history and what was going on in that brain of yours, even when you thought you were pulling the wool over his eyes. What made you tick, just as you knew what drove him. 

It was fucking scary.

You might’ve pretended you were okay. You both might’ve believed you were fine on the odd occasion. Like everyone else though, everything you did, from the moment you woke up in the morning to the second you closed your eyes to sleep at night, was littered with the remnants of your past, and his.

So while it wasn’t every minute, many of them in between those waking hours filled with fleeting thoughts of Hell, the influence Cain’s mark had on him. Purgatory. Dick. His mom, yours, and all the decisions you were making adjacent to them.

You brushed it off whenever he left enough of an opening to do so. Like everything else, he was guilty of letting you do it, but he tried his damn hardest to make up for it when he could. Small gestures, actions, prioritised words, and as much love as he could give.

He squeezed you with the arm hanging over your shoulder again. Took another turn. Massaged the edge of your boob, because he could, and pulled himself back into the conversation he’d started. 

The screen was about to go to sleep. The sun overhead just peaked out from under the Impala’s roof and into the windscreen, glossing over your eyes as you looked back to him, deadpanning.

“Dean?” you questioned.

“You buy whatever it is you want me to wear, and I’ll put it on,” he said, hoping against all hope, no frills were involved.

“I thought you weren’t listening.” 

“Course I was.” Enough to piece together a decent response, at least. 

He turned his head. Checked the path was clear in the side mirror before merging, realising after the fact that checking was pointless, aside from his family being there. He smirked at that. “But why am I only wearing the thing at night?” 

“Not at night,” you said. “Only in bed. No monster guts, remember?”

“But I can’t shower before putting it on?” The concept of sweat and his pheromones made plenty of sense. Not showering after a hunt, though? Yeah, there was bound to be blood. His or someone else’s.

“You sure you thought that through?” he asked.

And there was silence. Aside from Baby’s purr and the guitar riff filtering through the stereo, that tried to compete with her. 

“Guess not.” You sighed, becoming quiet again.

It didn’t help that your shoulders tensed under him. Your thigh, too. Both squeezed together, shifting your knees ever so slightly away from his. 

He opened his mouth to suggest a different piece of clothing. His boxers. His socks. They’d be equally sweaty. Just not the best to drape over his newborn pup. No kid wanted to hear the story of how they once wore something that’d touched their father’s sack. 

But the ping from a message interrupted him, and “Who’s that?” he asked, knowing it was his phone. 

“Sam,” you said. A sliver of snark present when you added, “He and Eileen want to cook dinner for us.” 

“That’s nice of them?” Least, he thought so. The way you’d read the message suggested otherwise, though, and he took a chance to look at your face.

“It is.” You nodded.

“But?” 

But this time you shook your head. and looked down at his phone, still in your hands. “What do you want me to send back?” you asked.

It was safe to say he regretted his answer. Letting you commandeer his message thread? You then telling him you needed to stop by the local grocery store on your way home? Yeah, bad move, Dean.

Tomatoes

Fresh basil 

Garlic

Those three items were only the beginning. Not even the tip of the iceberg lettuce, which was also on the list. The damn thing took up four lengths of his phone’s screen.

“Why’re we getting this stuff again? They’re the ones cooking,” he grumbled as he leant over the cart, pushing it forward to let an elderly beta past.

This position was becoming more and more frequent, and he’d become rather skilled at navigating the metal cages. Gold medal material with the way he turned the damn thing. Whether that was good was still up for debate.

“It’s the least we can do,” you said, examining the mound of onions, a piece of vegetable at a time. Turning them over. Inspecting the flaky skin and differences in the colour underneath it. Weighing each piece with your hands.

“No. The least we can do is eat what they cook. You should be taking a load off.” 

Your head flicked to him on that. A scowl, clear on your face.

Oops.

One thing he’d learnt as you grew bigger was to never question your current ability to do anything. His last rut had been a testament to that. So until it got to the point when the frustrated fire in your eyes could kill like Cyclops’ beam, it was best to assume you could do whatever it was he thought you couldn’t.

Here, you weren’t as tired as he thought, and he had to take a different approach. “You’re getting a decent meal that you don’t have to make yourself for a change.” 

“You cook for us all the time,” you said, and spun back around to continue choosing the perfect onion.

Crisis averted.

“Not with all this fresh stuff I don’t. This is better for you and the pup.” Actual minced beef. Tomatoes off the vine, not from a jar. You used these when you cooked, too. Mostly, though, you were working with tinned and other non-perishable goods because it was more practical when hunts went on for longer than expected. Less waste, you’d said. 

Eileen had also asked for the ingredients she needed to make the pasta herself, so you guys were in for a treat. You never made the…oh.

Having maintained a distance easy enough to grab your ass at all times, his step forward was a mere shuffle. His hand only had to move up for his fingers to gain access to the nape of your neck and the whispers of hair that breached over your natural hairline. 

Your purr was exactly what he was aiming for. While he still hadn’t had time for his thoughts to fester, he stopped pussy-footing around and went all in and straight up asked you. Not even he could keep this up.

“What’s going on, Omega?” he said. Besides your nest and the eleven ounce baby boy playing on your anxieties, now Eileen making pasta was setting you off? “Last night you were excited to meet her.” 

You huffed. The muscles in your back rippled down his arm.

Okay. Maybe not. 

“C’mon, sweetheart.”

“It’s stupid.” Stupid enough for a flare of anger to tinge your scent and a suspicious sniff to accompany it?

“What is?”

You raised him an onion. Not quite what he was expecting, but he took it and waited. He wasn’t budging until you gave him something besides produce.

“It’s… I wasn’t… I… Will you be going on the next hunt?” you rushed. Head fixed on the sea of brown before you. 

Yeah. That also wasn’t what he was expecting. What did that have to do with Eileen and her cooking dinner for you? 

He reached behind him and dumped the vegetable somewhere in the cart. Not phased by where it landed, only sure it had made its destination because the rolling and rustling of onion skin didn’t make it as far as the floor.

“Uh, yeah…probably,” he said, and your cheek sunk in. “Okay, you know what? Let’s just…” The hand on your neck dropped and soon both were twisting you towards him and raising your chin and gaze to meet his. 

Your eyes had glossed over again, and he swallowed. Hard. Tongue moistened his lips. Thumb swiped at the fresh tear forming in the corner of your eye. Anything to relieve the dry feeling that had overtaken him. 

“It’s my job, sweetheart.” Sure, it didn’t pay the bills, but it was a duty he’d always be obligated to. Who would do it if he and Sammy didn’t? He’d considered that many times before, and you knew that. Seen it, too. He’d made sure of it before you ever had. Still, he studied your expression, heart ticking away way too fast. What if it wasn’t so cut?

“And when my due date gets closer?” you asked.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” 

Earning your keep was a lonely business. He knew that. Being grounded in the bunker for weeks on end was…awful. The cabin fever was better when you had someone else to spend time with, but you…there by yourself…alone…even now wasn’t easy on either of you. 

But when that time came? Of course, he’d stick around. He wasn’t letting you do anything alone. “You won’t be able to get rid of me,” he said, and went to pull you in close, only to have you resist. 

Your palms pushed against his chest. “But when will you stop?” you asked. 

When indeed.

Dean telling you he was waiting for Doctor Cameron to tell him when the best time was to stick around wasn’t as reassuring as he thought it was. You knew he had to work. Of course you did. When he stayed home, yeah, his cabin fever and the almost constant hovering over you could sometimes drive you nuts. But it never stopped you from wanting him home.  

Like everything else, there was a balance. A fine line. And in your case? It came down to being supportive and your wants. 

Dean’s life was hunting. You couldn’t prevent him from doing it. He’d been at it for longer than you’d been on the scene. He didn’t need to hear how every single time he left, a huge chunk of fear weighed you down because you were terrified he’d get hurt or worse.

What if he died? Became a demon again? What if he went to hell, or purgatory, or somewhere far more sinister?

Still, “I promise I’ll be there,” he’d said, not knowing what the real issue was. Yet, he was clever enough to notice the underlying ones with your mom. 

Yeah. You put a stop to that.

Of course you did. 

You didn’t want to think about her. You’d been doing well, not thinking about her until the point when Doctor Cameron reminded you she wasn’t there. Asshole. He was a brilliant doctor, though, and knowing he would be there on call was reassuring. Dean would be there, too, you hoped. Assuming your little man didn’t decide to enter the world too quick. 

You think you came early? That’s what your mom had told you when you were younger, right? Or was that Ritchie and his mom? You’d had more to do with her in recent years, but it’s not like you could call either of them and confirm. Not like you wanted to, and that’s what you’d keep telling yourself.

Your hands moved to your bump as Dean clanked ahead of you down the spiral staircase and into the sweet chill of the war room’s air-conditioning that afternoon. He’d left Baby out front, and that just added another weight on top of everything else going on in your head. There wasn’t even a case yet, but it was inevitable, and her being parked there was just another reminder of everything going wrong in your life. 

Dramatic much?

You had a son on the way. A mate who loved you. Even if he’d never said it aloud, you knew it. 

You shared a home. Another Omega had been living in it for most of the day while you’d been gone, but it was your home. She was going to cook in your kitchen, and god, this is what you’d meant when you told Dean it was stupid. 

“Sammy!” he yelled at the top of his lungs as he reached the bottom. 

Did he have to be so loud? How his timbre could still sound so deep at such a high projection was still baffling to you. 

He’d been carrying the groceries you’d picked up at the store on the way through. Eight bags juggled in his hands cut off the circulation, turning his fingertips white. His precious six pack, tucked under his arm. But he wouldn’t make a second trip or let you carry something.  

Nope. Always the hero.

So, when his boot thumped onto the polished floor instead of another clack against metal, he swept across it to dump his load on the table. Shaking the blood back into his fingers once he had.

“What?” he said when he turned to see you staring at him. 

“Was that necessary?”

“Just announcing our presence.” He grinned. 

He just wanted to gloat. 

“Yeah, well, everyone in town heard you.” And you wanted to slap him for it. But then his face turned like it tended to. No longer mischievous, the attentive side of him coming out as his eyes narrowed at yours. “You need to take another leak?” 

“Yeah.” Not really, but you’d use the reprieve he’d thrown at you. If you were smart, you could push it to ten, fifteen even. Let him believe the less glamorous side of pregnancy was getting to you. 

As long as he didn’t announce that to the room. Sam and his potential future mate did not need to know about your bowel movements over dinner and getting-to-know-you’s. 

“I’ll be back in a minute.” You patted his chest, receiving a tender kiss on your forehead in return.

“Just don’t get it on your hands this time.” He snickered, and you glared at him as he pulled away.

“You try peeing in a cup when you can’t see what you’re doing.” God. You would never live that down. More fool you for making your disgust obvious back at the clinic. 

You left him on that note, scurrying past the Arctic end of the large map. Up and over the wooden steps of the library. Through the door in the back as fast as your balance would allow.

Yes, it was longer. Thanks to Dean calling out his brother’s name, though, chances are the other, quicker path to the bathroom was a no go for now. Funnily enough, you did need to go. Now.

You were also relying on those ten to fifteen minutes to prepare yourself. 

She was probably lovely. Sam liked her. Dean spoke highly of her. And maybe that was the problem? You weren’t just territorial about your home and your nest, but both he and Sam? If he claimed her, she’d be moving in. She was a hunter, and she’d be going out with them on hunts while you stayed there. 

She’d be around your mate. In tight quarters. She’d get to leave the bunker. She knew their life. Their job. Had known them longer than you and...

She was standing right in front of you.

All you’d done was round a corner in one of the bunker’s many hallways. You hadn’t even made it to the bathroom yet, and… And... “Hi,” you said, hoping she didn’t catch the scowl that’d been on your face before you’d removed it. “You must be Eileen?…”

…

…

…

Alright. 

So she wasn’t all that bad. She was sweet, smart, funny, and you could see the connection between her and Sam. She may have used the wrong pot for boiling the pasta in - it was too small - but the meal she made was delicious, and her scent…well it wasn’t too bad.

Rich and tomatoey, the food, not Eileen. Fresh, with extra mushrooms and onions ground into the sauce so Dean didn’t notice. And even though you weren’t the one to cook, you didn’t have to clean up either. That made things all the better. Sam and Dean handled it while you and her sat across from each other at the kitchen table talking.

“And you can only take one suitcase?” she asked as she looked through the photos on Dean’s phone. “What if you packed some in your bag?”

“I knew I liked her,” Dean quipped from his position behind the sink, leaving you to repeat his words for Eileen’s sake.

It was a natural progression to talk about. Most of the evening had been pup talk or hunting. You’d heard stories of Eileen hunting Banshees and her latest escapade with Sam and how she’d saved his ass. There was an underlying question the more you spoke, but it wasn’t like you could outright ask her and Sam if they were planning to mate or not. That was none of your business.

“I guess I could,” you said. “But I shouldn’t need too much. The clinic provides extra blankets and pillows.” You were free to put them wherever you wanted. The bed, the floor, the tiny little closet in the corner of the room if it made you feel safer. The only drawback was that space was harder to get you out if you needed to be moved.

You wouldn’t dwell on that, lest your fears overtake you more. So it was helpful that Eileen had a point. 

“That aren’t yours.” 

That’s why you wanted Dean to wear the same shirt every night. His scent would soak into the fibres and in four months’ time, it’d be very comforting and stretchy enough to wear around your neck at the very least. Especially if he didn’t make it. 

And there it was again. The actual issue. Numero uno. Although, how you planned to get to the hospital if he wasn’t there hadn’t entered your rational mind until now, either. 

He had to be home waiting with you. He’d promised. 

That night, when Dean had you alone again, he found himself with the blue muppet cushion under his arm, and you above it. He preferred that, even if his hand and fingers had gone numb on account of the awkward angle his right elbow and shoulder were now stuck in.

His left arm, however, wrapped over your middle. Your fingers in his. The throw, once tied in a bow, draped over the bed’s blanket and sheet. The nest needed scents to be done in layers, according to you and Eileen. 

Yeah. He regretted getting involved in that conversation. 

He couldn’t say the same for how well you’d gotten along, though. Sammy just needed to seal the deal. Have a pup in camaraderie. Didn’t matter that it was for all the wrong reasons. 

You’d have another omega around to talk to about nests and sympathise about heats with. All the things that made pregnancy not so wonderful, bitching about him because that’s what all omegas did when you weren’t having slumber parties and pillow fights, obviously.

He smirked, and you squeezed his hand, hard. Nails dug into his skin, piercing, probably drawing blood with how sharp they were, and you weren’t even in labour. 

“What was that for?” he groaned, and you chuckled.

“That’s for whatever perverted thought you had going on in there.”

“I’m not allowed to fantasise about my mate?” he grumbled, knowing there was no point denying it. He squeezed your stomach in albeit gentle retribution. 

“You are. But I know you just did that smirk you get when it’s something gross.”

He begged to differ. Gross was mucus plugs and haemorrhoids. Both he’d had to hear all about at the clinic, and he hadn’t complained. It was great the doc was getting you prepared, he just preferred it when the focus was on the stuff movies and TV were okay with showing. 

Knowing your water breaking might be more of a trickle than a gush, useful. Hearing a phrase like the bloody show and learning what it meant? Slick was sexy, jelly-like, not so much. Even for an experienced hunter. 

Still, that smirk of his remained, and he leant in to kiss his claim as a peace offering. Peppering ‘round the sensitive scar. Savouring the delicate saltiness on your skin until you elicited a contented sigh that sent his heart racing further than it already was. 

It was the most relaxed you’d been all day. Even during moments spent just you and him.

The clinic. In Baby. The store. It was clear this room, and the bunker, brought the most comfort for you. He’d say for both of you, but for him, it was you being there that did it for him.

You’d turned his world upside down in such a short amount of time, and who would’ve thought it? He couldn’t imagine life without you now, and while that really was scary, it was nothing compared to what he was putting you through.

You wouldn’t be stressing over packing your nest up into a suitcase if he was normal. You’d have your mom with you. You’d be living in the suburbs, having the pup in your home where a doctor could be called out to you if needed. 

You and your son would be safe. No weapons. No devils traps or sigils. Salt would be solely for the kitchen. Burning would only be a word for cakes and, god forbid, steaks on a barbecue. And he’d never have to travel for work, unless he was actually in pest control.

But he’d tried it before and it hadn’t worked. He always got pulled back in, and this…turmoil he put himself through every time always resurfaced.

God. Some soulmate he was. He could knock you up, but he couldn’t give you what you deserved. 

He could never let you go, either, and he nuzzled his neck into yours. Mixed apple and butter. Leather with a touch of cinnamon. Felt your soft skin pass under his scruff. Got rewarded by a snicker and your shoulders shaking against his chest. 

“That tickles,” you said. 

“Does it?” His leg dropped over yours then. Calf and ankle, bringing you closer than you already were. His arm squeezed you tight again as he shuffled himself flush against your back. “How ‘bout now?”

“Nothing changed?”

“Ahhh. But my junk got warmer.” And that time, he was laughing with you. His heart, full to the brim. 

You just had to go and ruin it by asking, “What were you thinking about just now?” 

You had to have meant the part about being gross, right? It wasn’t like there’d been any awkward silences until now. You didn’t want him to mention your mom again, ‘cause that had gone down real well at the store. 

It wouldn’t help him if he went down the path of all his wrong doings, so, “You and Eileen,” he said. “Wrestling in a pool full of jello,” he added with another smirk. 

It was on the same tangent as a slumber party. Just a touch raunchier.

It sure seemed to work because you shuffled yourself then. Rolled over onto your back. He lost the warmth, but he had the perfect view of the girls. Fuller, rounder. Nipples pert, too. Just another perk to having a pregnant mate.

He used the opportunity to lift himself up onto his elbow, clenching his fist a few times to release the blood flow when you gave him his arm back. His free hand traveled lower to under your bump, and an unclothed thigh.  

He touched, he caressed, he kissed wherever he could, answering only with a hum when you called out his name. Too engrossed with what he was doing, until you said, “I was jealous of Eileen.” And it was like you’d forgotten he had a nose.

Still, admitting you had a problem was a big step, and the first for many.

Alcoholics. Drug addicts. Those who want to reclaim their virginity and take a purity pledge. Dean had done that, and look where it got him? Sex with a porn star, eventually mated. 

And now you were a teensy bit territorial over Eileen on top of worrying he wasn’t gonna be there with you when the time came…

Yeah, he was definitely screwed. Time would prove it.

The right side of Baby raised a fraction as Eileen and Sam climbed out of her, but Dean didn’t budge. 

“Dude. You coming?” Sam asked, leaning back in.

Dean gave him a lopsided grin.

“I’ll be there in a minute. Gotta update the Omega,” he said, and Sam nodded.

He patted the roof of the car and stood up straight. He was about to close the door behind him when Dean lowered his head to look him in the eyes.

“Hey, ah, can you order me a double bacon cheeseburger, extra onions? Oh, and extra fries, too.” With you back at the bunker, he could eat every morsel of greasy potato on his plate without the guilt or puppy dog eyes thrown his way. “You know what, make those extras a double, too.” After this conversation, he was gonna need the added carbs.

Sam scoffed. “Right,” he said, and this time shut the door.

The usual creak preceded his footsteps trailing away soon after, and Dean found himself with only the ambiance of the neon lettering from above and the drone of a jukebox cut on and off by all the drunks leaving the bar. 

The stale beer. Second hand smoke that clung to your clothes. A year ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated, having no omega waiting for him in the first place. Five years ago, he’d have already been flirting up a storm with a blonde or brunette. He had no preferences back then, though sipping purple nurples in range of an equally hot bartender was a must. 

Of course, he had you now. A son due in three months. Two things he once said he didn’t need or want, yet here he was, only stopping at this dive because Sam and Eileen had insisted. And he needed to eat. 

Oh, how the tables had turned. He would’ve preferred something quieter. A mom and pop diner. Hell, he’d risk Baby’s fresh paint and go through a drive-thru if the option was there, but it was too late and nothing else was open. His hunting companions were already inside, ordering for him, and he was sitting here, holding off on what he needed to do.

He didn’t want cold fries. He didn’t want to disappoint you, either. When you’d last spoken, he told you he was on his way back. Case closed, a busted trigger finger, sure, but all in one piece and a day’s drive out, give or take. But now? He had a sneaking suspicion you wouldn’t be ecstatic about the news.

Dean moistened his lips and sighed. He fished his phone out of his jacket pocket, careful of the bruised muscle, and held the screen up to face him. At least staying in the car like this meant he could FaceTime you, though maybe that wasn’t such a good thing. Not when you could read his face. Not when he could see those eyes of yours.

He hit the call button and checked his hair in the replay. Wiped the road off his brow. He was practicing his solemn face when you answered, but like the wind, it lit up at the sight of you.

“Hey sweetheart.” 

“Hey,” you said, from what appeared to be one of the plush armchairs in the library. Spoon in your free hand, dusty old books over your shoulders. “Where are you?” 

“Ah, stop over in Kentucky. Whatcha eating?” he asked, hoping to keep the peace a little while longer with whatever snack the pup had you indulging in.

It didn’t work.

He could see the cogs working behind your eyes. Almost hear them clicking over the rockabilly soundtrack, fading in and out as you considered his last position and where he now was. Heading south from Indiana wasn’t the most direct route to Lebanon. 

“You’re not coming home tomorrow,” you said, all too knowing, and the tone pulled the guilt right up and out of him.

He hissed through the tiny gaps in his front teeth. Ran his own free hand back through his hair. “We caught wind of another case,” he said, and your eyes sunk low. 

“There’s been four disappearances the past few weeks in Taylorsville,” he continued, figuring if he played at your heartstrings, it would soften the blow. “But, ah, a fifth person got away. They’re detained at the sheriff’s office, and—”

“You’re going to check it out.” Your head dropped. Your hand moved to your bump. Arm cradling it at the bottom of the screen.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say you were doing it on purpose. Highlighting what he was missing. Pulling at his heartstrings and returning the favour. Reminding him how much he wanted to hold you both and inhale your scents. 

He tilted the phone in his hand and brought his nose to the top of it. 

Like he could smell you. It was all gunpowder and dirt. Not citrus or apple. And he clenched his free fist and pulled the other one back to see you again. “Yeah,” he said. 

It was in their wheelhouse, and close by. A couple of hours’ drive off route. He couldn’t even say they’d hunted on less. All signs were pointing to the supernatural on account of the escapee and his account.

“Sammy thinks it’s a pair of Vetala’s, and with the three of us, it’ll be—”

“Okay,” you whispered, giving a slight nod. Nothing more, nothing less. 

There was no anger, no outburst, which, frankly, Dean would’ve preferred. Angry he could do. Yelling, screaming. Well, maybe not in your condition, but anything other than this quiet, continual disappointment now oozing down the line.

Though, maybe that’s what he deserved? Promising one minute, breaking it before the next was up.

“Okay?” he repeated, just as softly. “You’re not mad?” he asked. Eyes flicked down and up. Lip twitching as he focused on your face behind the glass, staring back at him 

“Do you want me to be?” 

“No. No, no, I just…” He sighed again. “I miss ya.” And he did. Truly.

Missed your scent. Your warm touch. Your belly, poking into his at night when you rolled into him while deep in sleep. Even stealing his fries. He’d let you have the entire basket if you were here. Not that he wanted you here, here.

“I miss you, too,” you said. And while your smile returned through the cheerful hum that came too, it left just as quick. Brows furrowing as your body shuffled to get comfortable in the seat. “But you already decided to go to…”

“Taylorsville.”

“Right.” 

Technically, he’d been coerced on that front too, but you hearing that would only make things worse. He was still a grown man. He hadn’t said no when Eileen found it. He could’ve put up more of a fight if he wished. Turned the car around even, but he hadn’t. So maybe, just maybe, he wanted to take on this case, and she and Sam were his scapegoats. 

“Well, there’s not much I can do or say from here in the bunker. I’ll call the pack planning clinic in the morning and reschedule.”

“But your next appointment’s not ‘til Tuesday?” 

Your brow quirked at him.

“Yeah, okay.” Point taken. Even milk runs took over two days. The last three were also on the dairy spectrum and each had taken at least three, not including the drive.

“It still might be nothing,” he offered, though he knew he shouldn’t have said it. It’d just rub salt on the wound when up ended up being something, and he cleared his throat. “I’ll, ah, call you after we speak to the sheriff?”

“Alright,” you said. Only this time, you weren’t even looking at him when you spoke. 

Yeah… you weren’t happy, but neither was Dean.

He, Sam, and Eileen had to deal with the lovely folks of Taylorsville the next morning, instead of heading home to you like he’d planned.

Well, Dean and Sam were. Eileen had the luxury of the motel room, researching the history of the area while they did the legwork. And yes, as bad as it sounded, he was jealous of her lack of hearing at that moment, because she didn’t have to deal with the local sheriff, and the funk of five other alphas on the force, running around the overly heated Sheriff’s Department.

“Alec had Janie and Louise’s blood on his shirt,” the sheriff said, averting his eyes back to his paperwork on the tall counter they all stood around. Him on one side, them, the other, and close to the door.

If only Dean could run out of it.

Much like him, the sheriff’s signature on the dotted line was a scrawl of someone who didn’t give a rat’s ass. He flopped the flimsy cream cover over, closing the file, only to look up, appearing shocked Sam and Dean still stood before him. “It’s a cut and dry case, fellas. Just a kid getting his jollies, turning on his friends. He blames it on vampires. We found a bag of weed on him.”

“What about the fourth guy?” Dean asked with a click of his fingers. “Gavin?” 

Some FBI work. A real agent wouldn’t forget the names of a victim. Of course, he always had, but a younger version of himself would’ve made his stone-cold approach less obvious. Not that he didn’t care, he just found it easier when he separated himself from the victims. He was less likely to take them home (and mate with them).

His smirk grew. Complimented the well-fitted suit you’d fixed for him, leaving the good sheriff staring, mouth agape and confounded, until Sam cleared his throat.

“What my partner means is you’ve still got another missing person out there.”

“Who takes off from time to time?” The sheriff’s hands came to his belt, looped his thumbs beneath it, pushing his pelvis forward. The added puff of his chest (and cheeks), all attempts to show authority to a couple of suits. 

There was a ‘this is my jurisdiction’ look in his eyes they were all too familiar with. But he soon realised they weren’t standing down, and he waved his hand in dismissal. “Look, if you agents wanna waste your time, be my guest. But Alec ain’t here.”

Dean pumped his fists tight on his side. If the kid wasn’t here, they could be on their merry way. Chalk the whole thing up to teens being teens. They’d grab Eileen, checkout, and be on the road again within the hour. 

Hell, the two lovebirds could stay here if they wanted. He’d drop them off wherever Alec was on the way home… Of course, things never worked out for him, especially with Sammy on the case, too. But it wasn’t Sam who ruined the excitement. 

He may have asked, “Well, where is he?” but just as Dean and the sheriff rolled their eyes in agreement, the front door burst open, and the draft that followed brought a familial whiff of popcorn, and an omega, distraught and on the verge of tears. 

“Daddy,” she said. “Something’s happened to Troy and Jonah.”

And dammit. Dean’s spidey senses tingled.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

My motivation has been lacking due to some personal things going on as well as working on other fics, so chapter 16 is not quite ready yet at 4k words. So I'm going to play it safe and skip next week, and plan to post it both here and on AO3 at the same time!

I’ve actually shared some tidbits of this next one before in a couple of WIP games, so I’m dropping something shorter today. It’s also still being edited.

Chapter 16: Impairment (working title) - 13/06

“C’mere,” he said, releasing his hand from your grasp and pulling you into him without a care that he’d pulled his bad side. The fact he had a bad side meant he was one lucky son-of-a-bitch.

His mouth made a move on yours as you came down. His arm slung his hand up and over to hold your neck in place, brushing through your hair, gripping where he could. Fingers on your cheek brushing away the tears.

“It’s okay,” he muttered against you and your muffled protest that it wasn’t. “I’m okay,” he said against his doubts. He’d never tell you otherwise.

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[ooklet]

"isn't my mom a betty? she died when i was just a baby. a fluke accident during a routine liposuction!" - cher horowitz, preeminent scholar of our age

like yes the joke is that there's nothing "routine" about liposuction, that it is an elective procedure. but during my most recent rewatch of clueless, this line gave me more pause than usual, now that i am someone who has had liposuction.

when i got my top surgery, they had an h-cup worth of tit to get off of me, so there was a lot of breast tissue under my arms as well as what was front and center. when my surgeon was discussing options with me about an hour before the surgery, he said he could either extend the incision scar further back (by at least 3 inches on either side), or do liposuction to remove that breast tissue. i asked for his opinion and he said he would recommend the lipo, to minimize scarring.

what he didn't tell me is that it would hurt much, much, much more than the 19-inch incision that i ended up with. like, i had all sorts of complications with my incision, including a whole allergic reaction to the surgical adhesive that they used, and dissolvable staples that have refused to dissolve and may need to be removed surgically. i still have discomfort/numbness/itching in certain spots of my incision that drives me just this side of crazy,

but it still doesn't outright hurt as bad as where they stuck tubes in me and sucked out the tissue. hands down, lipo hurt way worse than having parts of my body cut off, and it continues to hurt way worse five months into recovery. i honestly don't know if i would have chosen it had i known how much more it would hurt. and it's not like i'm uniquely sensitive to this type of pain. after my surgery, the nurse told me that, yeah, it is normal for the lipo to hurt more than the incision and for the pain to take much longer to go away. that just wasn't information that anyone thought was important to provide upfront. because even when it comes to gender affirming surgery, the assumption is that what matters most is the aesthetics of the end result.

i know there's a vested financial and social interest in obfuscating how damaging all weight loss surgery is for your body, how debilitating, how deadly. and also there seems to be a very specific way that liposuction is minimized as being less invasive or painful or likely to result in complications than other weight loss surgeries. and i feel deeply for everyone who has ever been so overwhelmed by the social pressures of physical aesthetics that they got liposuction, expecting it would be the easier option. likely, they were as under-informed as i was, and they might still be in pain, especially if it's something they're doing repeatedly, since they're definitely gaining that weight back because that's what happens. there are people who are almost certainly living in constant pain because of what has been framed as a silly, frivolous, noninvasive, "cosmetic procedure."

idk, i don't really have a point per se i just think it sucks.

[4only1]

Like A Fool

Gitae Kim x Reader Word Count: 1088 Note: Part 2 of Best Friend's Brother Welcome / Lookism Masterlist ------------------------

Gitae Kim. Or was it Kitae Kim? Of all the thoughts to be in your head right now, this probably wasn’t the one you expected. After all, you should be more focused on the man in front of you.

The one whose name had plagued your mind since the first meeting in Big Deal’s alley. The man who was currently holding the severed limb of the King of Busan in his hand like it was just a regular piece of meat.

You thought for a moment he might take a bite, the way he so comfortably wielded the arm. He waved it around carelessly while the King of Busan writhed in pain on the ground.

You stood behind Jake, peering at the scene unfolding before you both.

A massacre. One of both people and pride.

The axe-wielding maniac stood proudly at the center of it all. Gitae Kim. Or was it Kitae?

No matter. You had just arrived at the grotesque scene, and Jake wasn’t going to waste any time.

“Judging from the situation, this looks like the right place. Busan’s huge, so finding you took a while.”

Jake’s words drew everyone's attention—to both him and you.

“Who are you?” Gitae questioned.

Are you kidding me? you thought. How could he forget who Jake is? The man he hunted down with such passion to determine whether he was worth keeping alive?

The conversation progressed, but you didn’t give much thought to it. The only reason you came was because you refused to let Jake go alone and potentially do something reckless. A hero complex was not needed right now.

Heavy footsteps approaching pulled you back to the moment. Gitae was walking toward you. His arms were outstretched, still holding the axe—and the severed arm.

You thought you might be sick but held it in.

Gitae’s arms moved to surround Jake, and you took that as your cue to step back, unsure of what might happen if you stayed too close to the brothers.

“(Y/N) (L/N)? Why did you come here?”

Turning to see who had spoken, your eyes found Goo sitting on Daniel Park. Ignoring the strange position they were in, you explained your and Jake’s arrival.

“We came to stop Jake’s brother from going on a killing spree and, hopefully, prevent any serious injuries. Looks like we were a few minutes too late.”

Standing up, Goo freed Daniel, who rushed to the heavily bleeding King of Busan. Ignoring them, you turned your attention back to the brothers, ready to step in if needed.

How would you do that, though? Well, you only had your words to rely on—because no way in hell were you getting between Jake and Gitae’s axe.

Relieved to see the axe being put away, you moved closer to the brothers, standing behind Jake, not drawing attention to yourself.

That changed the moment Jake slapped Gitae’s hand away. You placed a hand on Jake’s shoulder, ready to talk some sense into him and hopefully deter a fight.

“Jake! Wait a minute—maybe don’t upset the man with an axe who’s holding a SEVERED ARM!!!” you emphasized.

Gitae’s eyes turned and stared blankly into your soul. You grabbed onto Jake’s arm like it might somehow protect you.

Despite his size, Gitae moved fast, placing his hands on your shoulders and shoving you back, forcing you to release your grip on Jake.

Jake’s guard was up now, body shifting into a fighting stance.

Gitae stared down at you, gears turning in his head as he tried to place a name to your face. Then an epiphany struck, and a wide grin spread across his face.

“I was wondering why you looked familiar! You’re that girl from back then. You still have my number in your phone, right? You never called—but then again, neither did I. Isn't it funny how I remembered you better than I did my own brother?”

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” That was the only noise you could manage. Call yourself delusional, but your brain short-circuited the second he got close. Oh no. You were still down bad, even after all this time.

“What was your name again? (W/N)? No, it was (Y/N)! Yes, (Y/N)! It’s a shame, really. My father was blinded by romance and lost his former glory. Looking at you, I wonder if this is how he felt. I can see the compelling reason behind his actions now—but I can’t let myself be swayed.”

With that, one hand left your shoulder and rose into the air—an axe in its grasp.

Oh. So that’s what he meant by not being swayed. He was going to get rid of you before you could influence him the way women influenced Gapryong Kim.

You swore you heard Jake scream, but before you could think further, the sound of the axe descending forced your eyes shut.

But pain didn’t greet you.

You opened your eyes and found the axe mere centimeters from your neck.

“Oh? What’s this? I can’t seem to cut you down. Now this is a problem,” Gitae muttered as you tried to step back, but the grip on your other shoulder held you firmly in place.

Stone-cold eyes pierced you as the axe lowered and came to rest at Gitae’s side. He leaned in close, his face just centimeters from yours. You felt his warm breath on your skin. You wanted to close your eyes but couldn’t.

“I didn’t think I could like you more than I already did—but look! I like you so much, I can’t kill you! Isn’t it amazing? I suppose the revival of the old generation can happen even with one or two changes.”

His grip on your shoulder tightened. His gaze darkened. A shadow passed over his face, masking everything but his eyes. Whatever he was thinking, you couldn’t tell.

It was petrifying.

Time passed in a blur as police officers and medics moved around you, but Gitae’s hand on your shoulder kept you grounded.

Only Jake's concerned voice snapped you out of your daze. You finally noticed your surroundings. Gitae Kim was being placed in a police car—no, it looked more like the police were his personal chauffeurs.

“I'll call you this time,” Gitae said, before getting into the car.

As the vehicle disappeared from view, you collapsed to your knees, exhausted by the overwhelming presence that had just been towering over you.

Gitae Kim. Or was it Kitae Kim? No—you were certain it was the former. Oh well. You could always ask when he called.

------------------------ Hey........Hey, How Y'all doing. Let's pretend I consistently post and stay upto date on Lookism. Definitely not like a month late in posting this. It's me though, just with a new pfp. Look through my masterlist if you don't believe me.

[typhoonboom10]

i thought i'd be funny to write the entire script of the tadc pilot by hand.

sorry if the quality is bad lol

[oreo-creampies]

“𝐜𝐮𝐦 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧’ 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 (𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲!)”

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭! Sukuna fucks you, queen of the fae, into a messy cum covered whore

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! queen of the fae!reader, demon king!sukuna (true-form), size kink, hentai logic lets say his monster sized cock fits in your fairy cunt, pussy drunk, overstimulation/hints of mindbreak, cock-drunk, monster sized cocks one has a knot the other is softly ribbed, HUGE HUGE HUGE SIZE KINK, sensitive wings, squirting, degradation/some praise, sukuna is 10ft tall in this one, your pussy is like a pocket of holding and it can take that shit, lets say you have tits even if you don’t for this one, titty fucking, double pentration (cunt and anal), pain kink, restraining/rough manhandling, fucking you in front of a mirror then on the bed, reader has magical abilities, sukun eats your ass a little with one of his hand’s mouth, sukuna is mean but gentle with your wings, pussy slapping, some anal fingering (he doesn't touch you with the hand after), belly bulge from both his cock and cum, squirting his cum when he pushes on your stomach, he covers you in his cum too, fingering

Fey; i get it if you judge me for this one, but in my defense my coochie held me at gun point to write this one. I'm giving you one more warning to use hentai logic with this one!!!

Sukuna strokes the base of your iridescent wings making them stretch out and flutter. Trembling, arching your back, digging your nails into the arm of the hand clenching your waist. Getting off on how Sukuna can hold you up, to use like a cocksleeve, with one massive hand.

“I look so big taking your stupid lil bratty ass from behind, look at yourself, you’re built like a handheld toy for me to use whenever I want.” Sukuna that’s massive, from his height to his hands, to the cocks stretching out both of your sloppy wet holes.

He croons, “You’re hot crying with your tiny wings fluttering n’ your stomach bulging.” Slowly stretching your wings out then pulling you upright by a firm grasp on your throat. Your wings occasionally brush Sukuna’s warm chest.

Your sloppy wet cunt is gushing on his cock, thick warm cum squirts and trickles onto the floor. Both of your wet holes quiver, clenching his thick cocks.

Sukuna moans, “Stupid slutty lil princess make a mess on my cocks, cumming so damn much you’ve made a puddle on the floor.

His four eyes fixating on how his thick knot tugs on your cunt. “Nnnn look at that you’re clenching me too tightly for me to pull out?” You squirm and cry when he sucks on your clit with a hand’s mouth.

Insisting, “Princess? I'm a queen?!” He licks your cock-stuffed cunt with a hand’s tongue. When he moves his hand away you’re fixating on how your cunt is split into a perfect circle by his thick knot.

Sharply crying when Sukuna pinches your sensitive clit. “Yet you’re taking my cocks like a common whore.” He roughly pulls his knot and cocks out eliciting a needy whine from you when you’re empty.

Dropping you on the massive nearby bed which floats with with a wave of your hand. “It doesn't make me any less a queen.” Spreading your legs for him, “It just means I'm a queen whose a monster cock loving slut.”

Sukuna pins your thighs by your side, lining his bottom cock up and nudging your asshole with his cockhead. Unlike his other cock’s blunt head it has a thinner cone-shaped like tip, which gets thicker after each soft ridge.

He rests his other cock on top of you, covering your cunt and resting between your tits. “And to think you were just takin’ me in your soft lil‘ cunt, I knew fae magic was something else but this is isn't what I expected.” His cock is so big, yet he feels no deeper than your belly button when inside.

Pressing your breasts together, squeezing his fat cock. He grabs your hair yanking your head up, making you look at his cock peeking out from between your tits.

Sukuna groans when you lick his cockhead. “I wonder how much you can take before your magic runs out and you break.” Slowly rolling his hips fucking your soft ass, his cock on top stroking your sensitive clit.

Pleading with Sukuna, “Break me, fuck! Nnn it won't be too long before I'm ready for more! Please! I can't get enough they’re so big, I can't get enough! Please fuck me with both cocks please! Please! Please!” He covers your mouth sticking his fat tongue into your mouth, you can faintly taste yourself.

“What? You’re looking up at me like you want to kiss some different lips.” He smirks gliding himself out of your ass and takes his other cock off your body to let them both hang

He leans down, “Hah you’re too small to properly kiss me.” You lean forward covering his larger lips in kisses, sliding your fingers into his hair.

“I can cover you in kisses.” Sukuna’s lips covers your cheek when he kisses you. Standing up he’s a ten foot monstrous demon and you love it. You love how small you feel beneath him, restrained in a mating press for him to mercilessly fuck both sensitive, sloppy wet holes.

He roughly smacks your cunt, licking your asshole with his thick tongue. The sharp pain rips wonderfully through the pleasure of having your ass ate. Loudly pleading, “Fuck me please, please fuck me. I wanna cum again!”

“Greedy lil brat is a better title for you, after you squirted and made a mess all over my floor you’re begging to cum again.” Another harsh slap to your cunt has you crying.

Pleading with Sukuna, “Im a greedy slut for your thick cocks! I can't help it! It feels like I'm about to go into heat. Please use whatever hole you want my King it gets me off how you use me for your pleasure.” Grabbing the bottle of lube left on the bed, taking his tongue out of your ass.

He pours a lot onto your tight hole then stuffs it in with two thick fingers. Some of the lube drips onto the sheets, “Good girl.” Pumping his fingers faster, smearing the lube. “Call me me your King again.”

He lines himself up, “Please fuck me My King.” He roughly stuffing both holes in a swift thrust. Your body tenses up with a sudden jolt, he’s too big. And being unable run away from the overwhelming intensity magnifies it.

Sukuna demands, “This is my sloppy lil’ cunt to cum in till I get bored of you. Say it!” Putting his weight into your thrust watching your stomach expand when his cock nestles in deep.

“Nnnn!” You can’t focus his words his cock stretching out both holes making the strip of skin between go taunt. You’re a fuck toy for him and it feels so good.

He’s so perfect from cocky smirk, to the condescending way he is looking down at you, and his thick cocks stirring you up pushing you towards cumming again.

He sneers, “Are you already too cock drunk?” Trailing his fingers gently along the top of one of your expanded wings. “Be a good girl and tell me who owns you brat.” Licking your clit with his stomach’s tongue, the pleasure is building rapidly.

Even after squirting on his cock he’s getting you this worked up so fast. It's hard not to with the intense stimulation from Sukuna licking your clit whilst mercilessly fucking you sloppy holes into a loose with his monster cocks.

You whine, “You do my King! ‘S your cunt! Nnn I wanna covered in your cum.” Picking up his pace, even with your magic the bed is rocking. “Fuck you’re so big! Nnnn please please! I'm your good girl.” Grabbing his thick, tattooed forearms, digging your nails in.

“Good girls get cummed in don’t they?” He fondled your breasts, biting and sucking on your nipple. The way he’s toying with your body is wonderful.

You beg him, “We shouldn't, we aren't married, but I want you to! Nnnn! Fuck! You’d cum so much, I would be so full!” Softly clutching the sheets when he flicks your tongue faster, adding a little more pressure. “I wanna feel your warm cum.”

A couple more strokes and your reasoning is quickly crumbling as you cum. All you can think about are his cocks throbbing inside you, filling both holes up. It’s too tempting you're begging with Sukuna, “Please cum! Please cum! Wanna feel your warm thick cum!”

He wonders, “How long did you spend making a spell that can let you take cocks bigger than you should. Or did it come naturally to a slut like you?”

You’re unable to process his question instead you’re loudly moaning, “Please cum! Please! Please! My king! Daddy! Sir! Please! Suukunnna.” Sukuna squeezes your throat and lifts you off the bed. Using his grasp on your throat and his to make you meet his merciless thrusts.

It’s hot to hear Sukuna sound so needy as he whines, “Nn!!! Nn! ‘S tight, wet! Fuck!” He grabs your hair yanking your head back so he can watch you cry while he fucksyou. Keeping eye contact with two eyes while the other two fixate on how your stomach bulges.

Softly growling and grunting “Mine! All fuckin! Nnnnn! Stupid pretty lil’ brat.” His jaw drops with needy loud whines as he loses himself in the intoxicating pleasure of your wet holes clenching his cocks.

There is a crash as the bed hits the floor. Sukuna turns around and lies down on an uneven half-broken bed. He digs his heels into the bed and roughly rutting his hips. “Fuck so damn hot! So fucking small, I wanna make you cry and ruin your tight cunt.”

You lean forward resting your hands on his abs above his stomach’s mouth. “Please cum! Sukuna please!” He softly growls then fucks you harder making it hard for you to string a word together in between your cries.

His brows pinch together and his jaw drops with a loud groan. “C-cum on mmmmm!” It’s impossible to think with the way your soft, soaking-wet holes are gripping and rubbing his cock. Your tears rolling down your beautiful face spurring him on getting him so close to cumming inside you.

“Cry! Louder! Fuck me!” Your cunt spasms as you cum on Sukuna’s thick cock. Sukuna’s eyes roll back, shoulders curl in and he tosses his head back. Whining loudly, “Nnn too-too too tight! Too much! Please!” Thick hot cum spurts in your stomach making it swell.

When he lets your throat go you use your first steady breath to whine “Please?” Sukuna's cheeks flushes a dark shade of pink matching his hair. He stuffs a finger in your mouth and fondles your soft breast, sucking on your nipple.

His cock pulses as more thick cum keeps trickling out. Your aching holes spasm around his cock. It’s wonderful to be so full of Sukuna’s cum and cocks.

He rolls over, towering over you with two massive cocks stuffed in each hole. “Don’t think this means we are done. Im going to clean up then see if your lil’ bratty cunt can take both of my cocks.” Slowly gliding his cocks out, Sukuna pushes on your building stomach making his cum squirts onto his hand and the bed.

Sukuna smears his thick cum over your thighs, tits, and waist. Gliding his finger inside you costing himself in cum which he stuffs into your mouth. “How do we taste?” You groan whilst sucking his thick finger as he holds his dirty hand to your asshole, licking your cum filled asshole.

He pulls his finger out with a wet pop. “Bitter, but I love being filled with and feeling your cum gushing out of me!” Lifting you off the bed by your hair Sukuna dangles you in front of the mirror.

“You look hotter covered and dripping with my cum.” He glides a thick finger into your cunt, pushing more thick cum out of you faster with slow pumps.

Letting your hair go causing you to flutter your wings to afloat. “How long can you keep hovering with those little wings while I'm fingering you?”

Oreo’s m.list

[lxnarphase]

━━ ❝ it's sticky, toshi... ❞

ᯓ ❤︎₊‧⁺...synopsis : you help ushijima finally realize that he's got a breeding kink

ᯓ ❤₊‧⁺...cw : u. wakatoshi x fem!reader, dirty talk, messy and wet, teasing, marathon sex, pet names, breeding kink, talks of pregnancy, ushijima can't stop cumming

ᯓ ❤₊‧⁺...lunar's note : haikyuu save me, save me ushijima wakatoshi, SAVE ME !! anyways hi i spent 150$ on ushijima merch yesterday and i don't regret it, so say hello to my haikyuu phase coming back !!!

ushijima having a breeding kink isn't a surprise to you at all.

what is surprising is how long it takes for him to figure it out.

sure, at first it wasn't clear, but after being with him for so long, you quickly pick up on whenever he'd mutter in your ear as he slid his stupidly big cock inside of you, saying how badly he wished he could cum inside of you instead in the condom.

afterwards, he's so focused on cleaning you up and making sure you felt good and satisfied, you don't get a chance to question him on it. not that you were complaining, ushijima is so cute when he's asking if you need anything and constantly reminds you to get up and go use the bathroom.

it's even cuter when he realizes you can't walk.

"ah. i'm sorry, i didn't realize how hard i went...here, let me help."

eventually, you to suggest things to ushijima, trying to test out the waters with him.

you start by just asking if he’d want to fuck you without the condom, what he thought about cumming inside, even jokingly saying you’d make him a dad one day.

but it seems like that last part was swimming around his head for a while...he can't get the thought of you getting chubby and round with his kid out of your head. and knowing he'd be able to take care of you all the time? that thought alone made him shiver a little.

what can he say, he loves doting on you more than anything.

however, you aren't expecting the way he reacted weeks after dealing with your teasing and questioning, fueling the thoughts swirling inside his head.

"toshi, if you ever cum inside me, you should set it as your phone background! actually, wait, no, because what if your teammates see it..."

"..."

"mm, maybe a video instead? ooh, yeah, i want a video of you cumming in me then pullin' out so i can see it spill out, toshtosh, would you do that f' me?"

he doesn't reply and doesn't give you a chance to comment again. the visual you painted in his mind just too much for him.

next thing you know, ushi's got you folded in half on the bed, making sure you feel every drag of his stupidly fat cock against your hot gummy walls. he's pulling out to just the tip before slamming back inside you, groaning each time you let out a whimper of his name or squeeze down on him.

"toshi, t-toshi! h-hoohmygod, please, baby, c-calm down, 'm sorry f' teasin', oh my goddd...!"

you're so fucking wet and noisy, he wants to make you be quiet because he feels like your going to make him cum too fast but he'd never ever do it as the thought of not being able to hear you is painful.

he's lost track of time, your cunt making him brainless as he pumps his cock in and out of you as he groans your name, one of his hands pinning your arms to your back while the other presses your head into the pillows.

"s-shhh, honey, let...let me make you feel good, y're so loud..."

it's so fucking messy and sloppy, his cum is dripping out of your tight pussy from how many times he’s emptied his load into you, but he still isn’t stopping, no, he can't. it’s leaking from between your thighs, leaving a milky white sheen on his dick, dripping down onto the bedsheets.

"m-mmh, nooo, toshi, don' wanna be quiet, i-i wan' you to hear how good you make me feel, baby," you purr between moans, knowing that your voice was enough to get him off. the throb of his dick inside of you told you that you were right.

“i...i thought 'bout fucking you like this all day, during practice…that i’d fuck you full of my cum, get it so deep inside you," he mutters with a grunt, moving his hands off you so he could drape himself over your back.

"f-fuck, everyone knew something was off, kageyama kept asking me if-if was okay, how 'm i 'posed to tell him my pretty little honey is waiting at home for me to fill them with my cum?”

with an affirming coo, you manage to tilt your head to the side to look over your shoulder, wanting to see how ushijima is holding up and god, the sight is so sinful.

ushijima's dripping in sweat, his bottom lip swollen and puffy from his teeth digging into it. his fluffy hair is messy and sticking to his damp forehead, and his eyes are shut, squeezing in pleasure when the head of his cock brushed against that sweet spot just right, making your cunt spasm around him.

but his eyes keep opening to see the mess between the both of you. each thrust causes his cum to spill out around him, loud, wet squelches filling the bedroom. and it's only fueling his need to fill you up again, and again, and again, until he can’t anymore.

ushijima can’t stop himself, flipping you over onto your back and folding you into a mating press and, god, he's so fucking happy he did. the way you sob his name, your nails clawing at his back as you cry in pleasure about how much deeper he is now driving him insane.

“t-toshi, cum in me, please, wanna make you a daddy, please.”

“I know, baby, I’ll give you all of it, fuck you full of cum until you can’t take anymore.”

fuck, he’s so loud, he sounds so good. ushi's deep, drawn out groans and pants of your name making you go dizzy, his big hands squeezing your waist tightly each time your hands tug at his hair.

“mm, fuck, that’s right, take all my cum, look at you, so good, can you take more? let...let me cum in you again, baby, you promised you’d make me a daddy, right? i-i need to make sure it sticks.”

all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work

[navybrat817]

Since we see this mentioned in Game Nights, what does it take for Bucky to stab John and how does the team react?

That is an excellent question, Cole! I'm so glad you asked.

Don't Look or Touch

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky isn't having a good day and John suffers the consequences.

Word Count: Over 2.4k

Warnings: Stabbing (yes, Bucky stabs John), arguing, humor, kissing, implied smut, Thunderbolts spoilers, we love Bob, possessive behavior, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: We have Not Exactly a Secret, Game Nights, and now this for our Tower Shenanigans. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411 (and thanks for the inspo!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky wasn't in a good mood today.  He claimed he didn’t need as much sleep as the average person, but he still needed to get some shut eye and he hadn’t slept well the night before. Too many things were running through his head. You wished he woke you up to talk or help take his mind off things, but you knew he hadn’t wanted to disturb your rest. Had the roles been reversed he would’ve wanted you to wake him up first thing. 

“I’m your girlfriend, Bucky. If something is bothering you, it bothers me,” you reminded him. “So, please, wake me up next time, okay?”

It didn’t matter how big or small of an issue it was, you’d help him through anything and everything.

“You need more sleep than I do,” he tried to argue, a ghost of a smile on his face when you narrowed your eyes. 

“I can always catch a nap later,” you said.

“If you say so,” he said, sounding in better spirits than he had moments ago.

But that didn’t last when he started fighting with Sam via text. He didn’t like fighting with his friends and it wore on him as the day went on. You saw it in how he carried himself. If that weren’t enough, Alexei accidentally shot a paint gun in the common room and hit Bucky’s thigh. The flare in his nostrils told you he was two seconds away from losing his shit when John laughed.

You half expected Bucky to punch John, but he silently got to his feet and went to change. “So sorry!” Alexei called after him, also leaving the room.

“Did you have to laugh?” you asked John. Sure, you all gave him a hard time, but he dished it out as well and it was clear that Bucky wasn’t in the best mood.

John shrugged, not at all phased. “He’ll live.”

“You won’t if you keep pissing him off,” you teased, going to get Bucky’s jacket while you waited for him to come back. 

Bucky returned a minute later, somehow looking more pissed off. Maybe it was because John scooted closer to you once you sat back down. As much as you adored Bucky’s signature grumpy stare, this was different. That look was on his face because of his bad mood. Your heart went out to him, and what kind of girlfriend would you be if you didn’t try to cheer him up? 

“Hey,” you smiled, holding out a hand so Bucky could help you to your feet. You gave him a quick kiss once you were close enough and handed him his jacket. “Let’s go for a ride.”

“A ride?” he asked, closing his eyes when you brushed his hair back.

“Yeah, a ride,” you smiled. As much as you both loved being in the tower, he needed to get out and you were more than happy to join him. “And maybe we can stop off at that bakery you love?”

Bucky’s eyes lit up. Between a ride with you and stopping off to get a treat, he’d be in a much better mood. “Let’s go.”

“Hang tight for just a minute. Just need to grab something,” you said, sneaking in another kiss before you headed toward your room. You wondered how much Bucky would argue if you tried to pay for the treats. He was always such a gentleman when it came to-

“FUCK!”

You stopped at the sound of John’s loud and piercing scream. It wouldn’t have been the first time he yelled, but that was typically done out of anger or frustration. This scream, however, sounded like pain.

“Oh, shit,” you mumbled, rushing back to the common room.

Your eyes went right to your boyfriend since he was always at the forefront of your mind. You took a step forward when he locked eyes with you, the coldness in the blues almost making you shiver. He happened to be right beside John who was a bit more pale than usual and gripping his arm like a lifeline. Your mouth fell open when you realized the former Captain America had a knife in his hand. And he wasn’t holding it, oh, no. Bucky’s knife was through his hand. You knew it was Bucky’s knife because you bought it for him. 

What the fuck happened, and why did that excite you?

Ava phased beside you, likely drawn by John’s scream. Yelena and Bob came in seconds later though Yelena didn’t seem too concerned. “What are you…” she trailed off with a snort. “That’s not good.”

Ava sighed. “And we just got the blood out of the sofa from the last incident.”

“No fucking shit this isn’t good! And who gives a shit about the blood on the sofa!” John snapped, screaming again when Bucky yanked the knife out. 

“You’ll live,” he muttered. 

Your eyes went wide. Super soldier hearing and all, had Bucky heard John mutter his earlier comment? “What happened?” you asked. You had only been out of the room for a few seconds. What possibly happened during that time to cause this?

John scrambled to find something to wrap his hand with. “Your fucking boyfriend stabbed me!” 

“Yeah, America’s Asshole, I stabbed you.” Sitting back on the sofa, Bucky got a cloth out of his pocket to wipe his knife. He stabbed John. He really did it. But why? “And you have the serum. You’ll be fine.”

You made the mistake of looking at Ava who had a smirk on her face. It didn’t do you any good to look at Yelena either since she also looked pleased. Only Bob looked concerned. And where the hell was Alexei?

“Okay, Bucky,” you began, trying to keep the laughter out of your voice because you had to be the mature one. “I know you threatened to stab him during Uno.”

“He put down Draw Four…” He sneered at John. “FOUR times.”

“I know, I know. Dick move. And I know I threatened to stab him because he raised his voice at Bob because, well, we don't yell at Bob.” You gave Bob a smile when he dipped his head. “But-”

“He’s lucky I didn’t cut this tongue out,” your boyfriend growled.

You tried hard not to whimper, which was tough since the sound was sexy as hell. “But why-”

“You can still cut out his tongue,” Yelena encouraged, taking out one of her own knives. “Allow me.”

You put your hand out while John took a few steps back. “No, Yelena. Not today,” you said, which earned you a pout in response before you turned your attention back to Bucky. “Just tell us why you stabbed him, please.”

“He talked about putting his hands on your ass!” Bucky snapped, wincing when he realized how loudly he said it.

You could hear a pin drop from the silence that followed. Your eyes darted between Bucky and John, seeing the mixture of anger and discomfort. There was no way John was dumb enough to say something like that in front of your boyfriend. Right?

“He what?” Yelena asked for you.

“Ew,” Ava whispered. 

“But she… she’s not your girlfriend,” Bob added.

“I didn’t say I’d put my hands on your ass!” John defended himself, taking a breath when everyone stared at him. “Look, all I said was ‘I’d never leave my bed if I could get my hands on an ass like that’ and that’s it! That’s all!”

You were thankful you didn’t take a drink of something because you would’ve spit it out. As admittedly smart as John could be when it came to missions, he could also be an idiot. “Bucky, put the knife down,” you ordered when his grip tightened on the handle. You couldn’t have him stabbing him again. 

Though it was kind of hot that Bucky stabbed someone in your honor. 

“I might stab his other hand,” he said. 

“Do it,” Yelena encouraged. 

John sputtered when Ava nodded in agreement. “What the fuck?”

“Okay, one, Bucky, we both know I’d never let John touch my ass. Sorry, but. No,” you said, shrugging at the bleeding agent. Your ass was off limits to him. “Two, it doesn't sound like he said he was going to put his hands on my ass.”

“I don't care.” Bucky carefully inspected his knife. “As far as he’s concerned, you don’t have an ass.”

The girls scoffed with you and you weren't sure if you should've felt flattered or offended. “Okay, old man, so I have no ass now? Do I not have tits either?”

You held your breath when Bucky slowly got to his feet, his jaw clenched. It wasn't fair how hot and bothered that stance made you. “Did he look at your tits?” he asked in a low voice.

John quickly shook his head out of the corner of your eye. You felt for the guy, but you weren’t going to lie. “He may have glanced at them when I leaned over the other day.”

“Oh, when you were wearing that black top?” Ava asked, humming when you nodded. “Oh, yeah. He looked.”

“What the fuck, Ava?!” John shouted. “You looked, too!”

“I didn’t look,” Bob said immediately, his hands up in surrender. He was too pure for this world.

Bucky swung his head toward John. “Forget your other hand. Let’s see if that serum helps you grow your eyes back.”

Oh, shit. Maybe you shouldn't have said anything. “No! No more stabbing today!” You moved to block Bucky’s path. The mood he was in, you had no doubt he’d stab him again if he got the chance. “I appreciate you defending my honor and I always will, but we are going for a ride. Now.”

The former assassin pouting shouldn’t have been as adorable as it was. “But he-”

“You didn’t sleep well, you’re in a bad mood, and you need a breather,” you gently said, framing his face so he’d only see you. Your touch took most of the anger away. “Please, let’s go. We can go right to bed when we get back.”

Sex, cuddling, sleep, all of it, you’d give him whatever he needed later.

Bucky huffed, but put his knife away. He recognized that your tone wasn’t one to argue with. “He better not look again or try to touch you.”

“He won’t,” you said for John, looking over your shoulder to glare at him.

“Jesus, it was meant to be a compliment,” he told you, daring to glance at Bucky. “You have a good looking girlfriend, okay?!” 

“Stop talking,” you begged when Bucky tensed up. You had just calmed him down.

“If you want to compliment him or her, tell them how murderous they look,” Yelena suggested, looking to the others for support. “That’s cool, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” Ava said.

“Um, Bucky?” Bob asked. 

“Yeah?” he answered, slipping an arm around you. 

Bob swallowed a little. “If she looks nice, am I allowed to say so? Or should I just avoid looking at her?”

You giggled. Bob deserved the whole world. “You can say whatever you want,” you replied. Bucky would agree. 

“Okay,” he smiled a little. “I just. I-I don't want to get stabbed.”

“No one will stab you, Bob,” Yelena promised, ever the protector. 

John looked around the room and asked, “So, Bob can say whatever he wants, but I can’t?” 

“Yes,” everyone answered in unison. Bob wasn’t an asshole like John.

“Now apologize to each other so we can leave,” you said. The longer you stayed, the bigger the chance that Bucky would snap again.

The men stubbornly refused to look at each other, like children being scolded after a fight. John broke first when you cleared your throat. “Sorry for complimenting your girlfriend, I guess.”

“Sorry for not stabbing both of your hands,” Bucky mumbled.

“And we’re leaving now. Try to behave while we’re gone,” you announced, pulling your boyfriend away. Chances were that they’d start arguing over dinner or dish duty. “I can’t believe it.”

“What, that I stabbed him?” Bucky asked, grinding his teeth. “He gets under my skin.”

They were teammates now, but it didn’t get rid of the bad blood or the past. You sympathized with that. “I know he does, and I can’t believe that it took this long for you to stab him, but maybe try not to do that again?”

His warm laughter brought a smile to your face. “I’m surprised it took this long, too, and I’ll try not to again, but I’m not sorry that you were the tipping point.”

Your cheeks warmed. “Bucky Barnes stabbed a man because of me.” You weren’t exactly sorry that you were the tipping point either. “In his defense, my ass does look good in these pants,” you smirked.

Bucky waited a beat before he smacked your ass, making you shriek. “He still isn’t allowed to look or touch.”

Hadn’t you made it clear earlier that you’d never allow John to touch you? Even if you weren’t Bucky’s girlfriend, that would never happen. “So possessive, but I love that about you,” you teased.

His eyes softened, the look making your heart race. “I’m not too much?” 

Your gaze softened, too. “You’ll never be too much,” you assured him, almost to the elevator when Alexei waltzed by in his robe.

“What did I miss?” he asked.

“I stabbed John,” Bucky answered.

The Red Guardian looked stricken. “And I missed it?”

The last thing you heard before you and Bucky stepped into the elevator was John yelling, “What the fuck?!”

“Right to bed when we get back?” Bucky smiled, bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss it.

“Right to bed,” you smiled back.

He pulled you against him to give you a deep and thorough kiss, one that left you breathless and yearning for more. “And thank you.”

“For what?” you asked breathlessly.

“For trying to cheer me up,” he whispered, touching your cheek. “And for being mine.”

You leaned into his touch, thrilled to be his. “Thank you for being mine, too,,” you said, hoping the ride and treat would make him feel much better before you went to bed. Maybe tomorrow he could hash things out with Sam. And maybe you’d look through the footage later so you could see for yourself that Bucky stabbed John. 

And maybe, just maybe, you’d make a copy of the footage for Bucky if he ever needed a laugh after a bad day.

So, did John deserve that? What other shenanigans do we think this group gets up to? ! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[rafesangelita]

so anyway I was thinking about something about bitchy!Kook!reader (since she's my ultimate favorite)

maybe rafe has gifted her a promise ring at some point in their relationship, and despite all their highs and lows, even in their worst nights, she has NEVER taken it off

and maybe they are in a heated argument and they're mad at each other (but not broken up, just mad) and they are attending a party and he notices that she isn't wearing it, so he loses his absolute shit and drags her somewhere, making a scene and telling her how much he cares about her (in his own way, ofc) and how hurt he is until she simply smirks and tells him that she's taken it off because she's getting it cleaned up

-🦉

warnings: arguing, slight angst, light fluff

a/n: join my private community for girly talks! ♡ you can comment under this post, send me a message, or leave something in my ask box for an invitation!

“can you fix your face? ‘at least try to act like you want to be here with me right now?” rafe whispered in your ear, a slight pinch of irritation lacing his tone. you swallowed thickly, flashing him a glare as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders so he wouldn’t draw any unnecessary attention towards you two. “i told you i wanted to leave a long time ago and instead of wrapping things up, you disappeared for another drink. i’ve been sitting here on this couch with you for over two hours now, listening to your idiot friends talk about their latest escapades. how about you fix your fucking face?”

rafe looked around to make sure no one caught any of the words that just left your mouth, his jaw clenching as he gripped you by the back of your neck. “is that how you’re gonna act right now? that’s what we’re doing?” at this, you trailed a hand down rafe’s stomach, your nails digging into his flesh hard enough to make him hiss and let go of you. “grab me like that again and i’ll leave your ass in front of everybody.” rafe knew that wasn’t an empty threat, considering you’ve already done it before and topper still hasn’t let him live the embarrassment down.

rafe gave you a curt nod, his eyes raking down your form before they rested on your bare fingers. “what the fuck?” he spoke out loud, the group conversation coming to a halt. without another word, rafe got up, dragging you along with him as he guided you two outside to his truck. “oh, now you wanna go home?” you scoffed, managing to pull away from him before he hoisted you into the passenger’s seat, his body wedged between the door as he took ahold of your hands. “i know we’ve been fighting a lot recently, and i’m sure we get on each other’s nerves all the time, but taking off your ring? are you fucking serious?”

your eyebrows knitted in confusion, your mouth barely opening before rafe started going on a rampage. “i bought you that ring to uphold a promise to you, y/n, and i’ve kept it. through all of our bullshit, through all of our problems, through damn near everything; you’ve never taken that ring off. even when we were close to leaving each other once and for all, you were still wearing it. that ring saved us, and now? you’re just giving up like that?” rafe sounded pained, his voice dropping slightly as his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. “rafe—” you tried to interject again, but still he continued.

“i love you, and i know i fucking suck at showing it, but you know i do. you’re the only person who puts up with my shit and still loves me as i am. you work with me even though i make it really hard, and you don’t throw my mistakes in my face every chance you get. you’re patient with me when i least deserve it.. i could go on and on about everything you do for me.. please just put your ring back on.” you weren’t expecting rafe to pour his heart out to you, your anger from earlier dissipating into nothing as your gaze softened. “i can’t—” rafe groaned, kneeling down onto the step bar of the truck as he held your hands to his chest.

“why?!” you couldn’t help but laugh, your resolve crumbling as rafe looked up at you desperately. “what’s so funny? i’m literally about to have a panic attack right now.” you laughed harder, shaking your head. “rafe, i’m getting my ring cleaned! i’ve been trying to tell you since you dragged me out here but you kept interrupting me.” your boyfriend let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his shoulders falling in relief. “when did you take it?” you helped him off his knees, rolling your eyes as he pulled you into his embrace. “remember, i told you i was going to the mall with chanel? i dropped it off there and i’m supposed to go back for it tomorrow..”

rafe nodded, his hands running up and down your back. “well, we better get you another ring for when you’re getting the other one cleaned. i can’t have you giving me heart attacks like that.”

[illbegottenfaith]

kiss me better, love

as the two of you stumble into bed after a Valentine's dinner date, theo realises it's not fair how much he loves you (theo nott x reader)

a/n - valentines fic #2 !!!! thought of this idea in a class literally 5 hours ago and idk if its the sleep deprivation but this is sooo self-indulgent writing this had me giggling and kicking my feet frfr 😭 all I have to say is if this isnt me and my future partner I dont want him I send him BACK

tropes/warnings - physical touch as a love language, angry theo but also soft theo 🥰🥰 no (read: minimal) proof reading we die like men etc etc

word count - 1.5k

taglist - @hzdhrtss @justaproudperson @ebriton @thaliashifts @friedfreyfries @allie-sturns

The door shuts behind you both, plunging the room into near-darkness. You barely take a step before bumping into Theo, your knee knocking against his thigh, your hands flying to his shoulders as you stumble.

"Merlin,” he mutters, steadying you with a grip at your waist. “Can you - ”

“You're the one barging into me,” you shoot back, tucking a lock behind your ear as you tighten your grip on Theo’s shoulder, making him wince.

“Anyway, like I was saying, it hasn’t even been a week since Missy - ”

Theo exhales sharply, blindly reaching for the zipper at your back. “Is this something I really need to be hearing right now?” he asks somewhat waspishly.

“Yes.” You barely register his tone, still preoccupied. “So I walk into Charms in Tuesday, expecting to find Josh understandably distraught and/or in mourning. But who do I see him chatting up instead?"

"Hair."

You gather your hair up in one hand to hold it up and go right on talking. You barely notice Theo's largely ineffective attempts at pushing your sleeves off your shoulders.

"Pansy Parkinson! Pansy flipping Parkinson. What, does he think he's a free man now or something? Melissa's halfway across the world, she's not dead."

"Mhm."

You sigh exaggeratedly at his lackluster responses.

“Well? Don't you have to anything to add?"

“Yeah - hold still.” You This is just ridiculous, Theo was thinking. What kind of dress needed buttons and a zip?

You huff, switching your hair to your other hand. “Honestly, Theo, have you listened to a single thing I’ve been saying the past hour?”

Theo groans, still fumbling at your lower back. He had figured out the buttons were decorative, bless him, but your dress was on the more delicate side, and if he ripped it, he'd never hear the end of it. “Uh, yeah, that Abernathy guy...he’s two-timing Melissa?"

“He is not,” you say, peering over your shoulder to see what was taking Theo so long. Seriously, what was going on back there? It doesn't help, though, not when you can barely make him out in the dark. “not yet at least. He might. And if he's going to, well, isn't it better she finds out now rather than ten years down the road? Or am I an awful friend for thinking that?"

"Thinking what?" Theo asks distractedly.

"Willing my best friend's boyfriend into cheating on her."

Before he can formulate a response, your stubborn zipper finally decides to cooperate and moves down an inch - snagging at his finger. A sharp hiss cuts through the dark, followed by some emphatic, muttered swearing.

You pause.

“…what was that?”

Theo slips his injured finger out of his mouth briefly, his voice strained as he struggles to keep the pain out of his tone. “Nothing.”

You shift slightly, trying to catch his expression in the dark, but he’s suspiciously still now, his hands nowhere on you anymore.

“Theo.”

“I’m fine.”

Your brow furrows. Then, his suddenly subdued demeanour and oddly neutral tone clicks in your head.

"Did you hurt yourself?"

There’s an immediate rustle, followed by Theo’s very delayed attempt at nonchalance.

“…no.”

Oh, you could throttle him. “Was it the zip again?”

“You keep saying that like I do it intentionally - I never mean to-”

“And now you're trying to suck the pain away like a child?”

“Would you rather I bleed all over your dress?”

“I’d rather you watch what you’re doing so you don’t get maimed by a bloody zip in the first place!”

Theo exhales sharply, his frustration palpable. “I keep telling you - I don't-”

“You never mean to, but here we are.” You cross your arms. “Third time in two weeks, Theo. This is getting ridiculous. Should I hire a nurse for our dates? A medic? Do you need to start taking my clothes off under medical supervision? Is that what we've come to?"

Theo glares at you (or the shadowy figure he was mostly sure was you), trying to pull his attention away from the stinging pain. “Oh, don’t start - ”

“You don’t think before you do things.”

Theo groans. “I think plenty.”

“No, you rush plenty. Really, it’s a miracle you still have all your limbs -”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, here we go.”

“First, you burn yourself on my curling iron -”

“Okay, one, you shouldn't be leaving your things out like that.”

“Then you cut yourself opening a tin of biscuits -”

Theo tips his head back in exasperation. “You sh - you literally shoved it at me!”

“ - and now my zipper is out to get you?” You throw your hands up. “What are you telling me, Teddy? That every item I own has a personal vendetta against you?”

"Mattheo agrees with me, you know," you continue smugly, in a so-there kind of tone. "He told me about that time you nearly broke your neck falling down that flight of stairs on the way to Transfiguration, which wouldn't have happened if you weren't - "

"Rushing, I know." Theo steps back as if to escape. “Merlin, you are insufferable - ”

“And you are reckless.”

“I don't need you to lecture me.”

“You’d be fine if you just listened to m - show me your finger.”

A brief struggle ensues.

You lunge; he sidesteps. You fumble blindly for his hand; he twists out of reach.

“For fuck’s sake -”

“Stop being so difficult.”

“I’m not being difficult, you’re being a menace.”

“At least I don't get mauled by zippers.”

“I'm telling you, that zipper has it out for me."

“Well, maybe if you weren’t always in such a bloody rus - ”

“Enough with the rushing!”

“I can't help it if you never learn - ”

“I do learn,” he snaps, stepping back further - only for you to grab onto his wrist and pull.

There’s a shuffle, a scuffle as Theo stumbles back into the dresser with a thud.

“Oi - ”

“Oh, stop squirming, you big baby.”

“You stop grabbing- ”

“Theodore, you are injured. Act like it.”

“I am n- ”

“Then give me your hand.”

A long, heavy pause. Then -

“No.”

You groan, exasperated. “Merlin, you are the most - ”

“And you are relentless - ”

But at last, in an impressive show of determination, you manage to latch onto his wrist, wrenching his hand towards you before he can twist away again. Theo groans in frustration, but you’ve already found the wound—his fingertip, warm and damp against yours.

“Oh, for - ” You tighten your grip as he tries to pull away. “You are bleeding!”

Theo tenses, his entire body bristling. “It’s nothing.”

“On my zipper,” you say incredulously. “Again.”

He exhales sharply as if this is somehow your fault. “You don’t need to make a whole production of it - ”

“I told you to be careful - ”

“And I was - ”

“Clearly not enough!”

Theo groans, tipping his head back against the dresser. “I’m buying you a tear-away dress next Valentine’s.”

You bite back a smirk. “I’d like to see you figure that one out.”

He mutters something under his breath that you don’t quite catch, but you’re already bringing his hand up, brushing your lips over the wound.

He stills.

The fight, the irritation, the tension - all of it dissolves instantly under your touch.

You press another kiss there, softer this time. Through a sliver of moonlight cutting through the curtains, he sees your face - your impish expression, your eyes, alight with amusement and plain adoration. You watch his face too - his furrowed brows relaxing, the slight part of his lips, his sharp features softened by something indiscernible.

His eyes flick to yours.

And Merlin, it’s not fair, he thinks. It’s not fair how you can drive him to the brink of insanity one second and then look at him like that the next, like you could never get your fill. It's enough to make him think you're worth all the trouble you put him through. It's enough to make him want to slow down. Merlin knows the last thing he wants is to rush through his days with you.

“…better?” you murmur against his skin after a moment.

Theo exhales, rolling his eyes as though he isn’t already relenting. "It's a start," he says grudgingly.

Your smile widens as you bring his hand up again, pressing another kiss there, then another, then another.

Theo groans, tipping his head back again, his frustration dwindling with every sympathetic brush of your lips.

“You like this,” you tease.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, but his voice has softened, his body relaxing into yours.

You grin, pressing a kiss to his wrist. Then his palm.

Theo groans again, for reasons unrelated to his earlier irritation, his fingers curling at your waist.

You laugh softly. “Want me to kiss you better everywhere?”

Theo smiles weakly, pulling you closer. “That's the best idea you've had all night."

[wren-kitchens]

once more, with feeling

876 words

it's not exactly the same every time. it's altered by what they went through, and why they’re asking, and how it all ended. but it's always close enough that it may as well be the same. 

100% inspired by this incredible post by @thirdtimed! it had me by a chokehold i had to do something about it

it's not exactly the same every time. it's altered by what they went through, and why they’re asking, and how it all ended. but it's always close enough that it may as well be the same. 

the first time, it was unprecedented. 

blood on his hands, tears in his eyes, we expected it to be over—a failed experiment, one that only he would ever remember to save the others the pain. too much grief wracked his body for him to even choke out the words for a long while, but we waited. it isn't an unusual thing for us to do, to wait.

smearing sand on his sunburned face, he wiped away his tears and said,

"give me another chance."

the second time, we were curious.

shaken and silent, he stared into our face for a long while, as if trying to decipher what in void we were. the crown of crystals were still and a kind of grey that isn’t truly grey, but every colour at once, and his breathing was shallow. the bloodlust drained from his eyes, leaving them as grey as the crown.

we asked, because he would not have thought to answer otherwise. he flinched, and hesitated. 

"i.. can i see them again?"

the third time, it was almost expected.

still smoking from the explosion, she sunk to her knees, sobbing and clutching herself as if she feared literally falling apart. it took a long while for her screams of grief subsided, and longer still for the weeping to fade into sniffing and hiccups. she hadn't looked at us once, as if she didn't know we were there, but we did not wish to interrupt—she was entitled to her unraveling in private.

wiping her eyes, she didn’t bother to compose herself much more. she lifted her face, littered with gashes and scars, and with agony in her voice-

"i want my friends."

the fourth time.. well, it was a little surprising.

a victor had not yet arrived so high on adrenaline and confidence, and the blood that stained even his mouth seemed to be a trophy. the sword had not left his hand, and still dripped with what remained of the last two, the drops vanishing into the abyss below. he was grinning, and this was the most surprising part.

not needing any persuasion or suggestion, he looked us right in the eye—as none had done before, crowing,

"come on, give us another go!"

the fifth time, it wasn't the request that was new.

alone in a field of sunflowers is where we eventually found him, after waiting fruitlessly for his arrival. he startled a little as he realised we were there, but soon calmed at the understanding of what we meant for him. after all, it had been almost a year since he became stranded—and stranded was the word for it. the shawl was still the red and purple of the flowers he had once given to his partner, and we suppose one could say they started this whole chain of events.

setting aside his gardening tools, he smiled almost sadly. perhaps he would miss what had become his prison, despite everything it signified. he sighed,

"i think i’d like a better try at companionship."

the sixth time.. it almost didn’t count.

surprised to have even been considered for a crown, they laughed in delight when the paper version settled on her head, clearly pleased with our creative flair. we were pleased as well—it isn’t often creative flair ends up being a positive part of our abilities.  they looked around, as if deciding whether or not the place was real, and seemingly settled on an answer. we didn’t ask what the answer was. 

adjusting the paper crown, she laughed, clearly finding the whole situation amusing. when we asked, they seemed to be even more surprised.

"i get to choose? well- let's do it again!"

the seventh time, it became amusing. they did know they could choose something else, did they not?

whooping and throwing his arms around in celebration, came the second victor to be genuinely pleased by his victory and subsequent death. he spent a considerable amount of time pretending he was at an awards show, thanking his family, his wife, his best friend and so on. it was refreshing, after all that misery we witnessed at the beginning of the games, to see the tides changing. especially with him; rage used to be his fuel. now it seemed to be love.

grinning up at us, he waited for something. perhaps one of the others had mentioned it, but he did not seem surprised when we asked.

"what do i want? of course i want more!"

the eighth time, we don’t have to even introduce ourselves.

considerably more pleased than he had been the first time, he seems to think that taking his own life was the ultimate show of power against us. of course, we have changed our ways since his game, but he is not to know that. like his predecessor, he too seems amused by the paper crown. 

cracking his knuckles, and stretching his neck, we already know what he’s going to say, but we let him ask it.

"one more time."

[the-raindeer-king]

(A/N: This is part 2 to my Mama Riley au! Thanks for all the love on the first one. ❤ no content warning and I'm trying to keep this gender neutral. Enjoy!!!)

You never expected your angry rant to actually change Simon's behavior. But it has, based on Mama Riley's weekly updates. He's stopping by more, staying longer. He's actually telling her things, mainly about his coworkers, but she's just happy he's finally opening up to her.

While you believe her, you're not seeing the change yourself. Fridays are when you have dinner with Mama Riley, and now apparently Simon too. He just… stares at you, a permanent frown on his face. As if you're the one intruding.

Part of you is glad he doesn't talk much. The few sentences he does speak, the low timber of his voice makes your heart race. Behind the scars and unwelcoming attitude, Simon Riley is a handsome man. But your loyalty lies with his mom. He needs to be a better son, and some silly crush isn't going to change your mind that easily.

Ironically, it's said loyalty that makes Simon fall for you so fast. His loyalty is rock solid, a promise held steadfast, an ache he feels in his chest every morning. There's no one Simon cares more about than his mom, and to see someone else care so deeply and fiercely about her makes you so insanely attractive to him. On top of that, your concern for Mama Riley made you willing to say something to him, and Simon knows he's off-putting and scary.

What I'm getting at is that this man is so down bad, it's not even funny. He'd literally take you to the court house and marry you immediately, if you were willing. But you're not, and he's kind of clueless on how to convince you to give him a chance. He'd rather catch a live grenade bare handed than ask his mom.

His mom who clocked the crush immediately, and is trying to help him without helping him. Even if their relationship is strained (much better now thanks to you!), she knows her son, and she knows he has feelings for you. And while she's not trying to meddle, she is trying to create opportunities for y'all to interact and get to know each other.

Opportunities that Simon keeps fumbling because he clams up so bad around you. He's never been good around people in general, and his crush on you just makes it twice as bad. Plus, he's aware that you hate him, and that's not doing him any favors either.

Mama Riley gives him time to make an attempt, only to watch him struggle and usually fail. But the attempts he's making with small talk, bad jokes, bringing you small knick knacks from deployment; it seems to be working. You're both opening up to each other, growing a friendship.

But as the months pass, nothing grows beyond a friendship. You don't want to ruin things between yourself and Mama Riley. Plus, you're not entirely sure where Simon's feelings lie. He's just as weird and off-putting as he was in the beginning, just now he tells you bad jokes and calls you ‘love’.

And, while Mama Riley promised herself that she wouldn't meddle - Simon's a grown man after all, he should be able to handle this - it's almost painful for her to watch the way you and Simon dance around each other. Nobody here is getting any younger, and after almost a year of watching you two, she decides to take matters into her own hands.

Simon's two months into deployment, when Mama Riley invites you over for routine Friday dinner. You're barely one glass of wine in, when she drops the bombshell on you.

“You know, Simon's in love with you.”

[unholyfudgebiscuits]

Being Human

Derek knows humans are fragile in comparison to wolves. He did have human siblings after all and his mother drilled their vulnerability into him since he was old enough to understand. He knows he has to be gentle around them, knows they are weaker and prone to sickness. Consciously he knows this, but he isn't at all prepared for when Stiles—the only human in the pack—is hurt.

Actually hurt.

Gasping, crying, arms shaking in pain hurt.

He doesn't know what the fuck to do. Because they're alone, trapped, and he can smell the wrongness coming off the human. He can hear his heartbeat fluctuating from weak to sporadic and the sweat and blood and scent of fear blankets the enclosed space so profoundly he thinks he's going to suffocate off the smell.

He siphons away whatever he can but there's still too much. It's barely a bandage over an open artery, like trying to put out a fire with an eyedropper. Even with him pulling away most of the pain the infection has already spread. Every gasping breath and rattling cough has Derek's body twitching in panic.

Human.

The word is a curse, a defect in his world. If Stiles were a wolf he could re-brake and heal the broken rib digging into his lung. The gash on his side would have slowed in it's bleeding if not stopped all together. If he were a wolf there would be no infection or sickness or bloody nose. The bite is a gift.

Derek doesn't know what to do with the frail, weakened human laying with his head on his thigh. He can't even think through the dread and worry and helplessness. Stiles curls in on himself, leans into the hand that is trying to staunch the blood and pull away the pain.

"Not quite how I imagined things would go when I daydreamed about my face down in your lap Sourwolf..." He jokes. Derek almost wants to shake him for it. Stiles is dying and he's joking.

"Don't talk. The pack should be here soon."

"N-Not talk? Have you met me? I'm alone in the dark with Beacon Hill's most eligible grump and you expect me not to make a sex joke?"

"Stiles!" Derek growls and then stops when he hears the awful whistling sound coming from his chest.

"I'm fine. Just a little fever..." Derek wishes it were just a little fever. Wishes he knew the difference between a little fever and this. He doesn't remember his baby sister feeling this warm when his mother said she was sick. He doesn't really remember much of the younger ones... the human ones. Maybe he'd be more helpful if he did...

"Stop it." Stiles chastise. "You keep frowning like that and you're eyebrows will grow together." Derek hates that he does this... Hates that he's the one in pain and he's still trying to lighten Derek's mood. Hates that he's smiling at him through a grimace, that he's looking at him like he's worth something when he knows he isn't.

"I'm okay Der." Stiles says gently. "You k-know you can't actually get rid of me right? I've sorta got a pool going with the pack. How long it'll take till I can get you to say you love me. It's gotta be unironically of course. Lydia's rules." Derek feels his heartbeat tick up at that and Stiles smiles. "I say this year, Scott gave you three. But I know I'm your favorite so it shouldn't be hard."

"Stop moving." He begs when Stiles turns onto his back to look up at him.

"Better view."

"Stiles!" Stubborn! Humans were stubborn. Weak and frail and as stubborn as they came.

"You're beautiful." Stiles murmurs and Derek feels his breath catch in his throat. "Maybe that's wrong to say to a guy huh? But like, I always thought it. Y-Your eyes. I like looking at them. Even when you go all grumpy and broody and flash red at me, they're still beautiful."

Derek feels Stiles' body shake with another jolt of pain and maybe, he's the one crying now. "You gotta promise me something Der, okay? P-Please. You gotta take care of my dad."

"Don't-"

"Would you just listen? I love Scott, I trust him with my life. He's my brother when it comes down to it but he's pretty freaking useless when he's got a new girlfriend with him and dad's going to be bad for a while. He'll drink. A lot... or worse he'll just jump head first into any job they throw at him. P-Please just watch over him for me?." Derek feels himself nodding and Stiles' pained smile widens.

"You know you've always been my alpha right?" Derek startles at that. "Like I said, I love Scott and I love the pack. I'd do anything for any one of you but... since the beginning. Since the start, you've always been my alpha."

"Stiles-"

"Just take care of dad. Scott will be okay, Lydia might need you more than she lets on. And Isaac says he doesn't want anything to do with you but it's not true. I-It's not. If anything he wants you to be proud of him. So call him okay? He'd be on the next flight home, he'd be back here at your side the second he sees your name light up. He kept the same number. Explain it to him. Tell him why you sent him away. N-Not for you, for him. He thinks you hate him, don't let him think it anymore."

Derek can't understand. Can't begin to make sense of this human. This small, 145 pound, eighteen year old looking up at him with all the tranquility and calmness of a condemned man. He's no longer scared. Fear has been replaced with a sense of serenity and its worse! Far worse than the terror. Derek presses harder onto the bleeding wound, chokes on the sob that wants to wrench it's way out of his throat when he hears it... The low howl a mile off.

He covers Stiles' ears and howls back, feeling relief and hope and looking at those confused brown eyes that haven't stopped watching him since they ended up in this hell hole.

"D-Der?"

"I love you." He says, because he does. Because he's never not cared for this ridiculous human being. He had been his headache, his friend, his anchor... The one who has protected him, saved him, given him a family when he never thought he deserved it. The resilient, caring little human that looked at him like he meant something. Like he was worthy of meaning something.

Resilient and stubborn and caring and selfless and fragile... And Derek wishes he were half the human Stiles is.

[gallusrostromegalus]

As someone who was recently introduced to the wonders/horrors of the night shift, what does the graveyard shift look like for the 4th Division?

Also, is healthcare in Soul Society plagued with the same understaffing as the Living World, or has Unohana managed to destroy it with her own hand?

Under the cut:

1. The ER nurses I used to let Charlie therapy dog for

2. 4th division staffing

3. Unohana's genetic meddling

4. Unohana's genetic meddling part 2: Kuchiki clan Boogaloo

5. The actual night shift

1. I used to live near an Emergency Room and walked my dog where the nurses would go to smoke, and they'd fawn attention on him and share horror stories with me. I made a comment once about the night shift being worse than the day shift, and they all disagreed. People only come to the ER at night if they're really, really in distress and while that's not great, that is a problem they have been specifically trained to handle. During the daytime however, you get people coming into the ER for mundane shit because they can't be arsed to schedule an appointment with a GP, or because they're bored and want to start a fight, or a host of other reasons that do not belong in the ER and that is VERY frustrating.

2. Staffing: shortly after the founding of the Gotei-13, the Central 46 started getting paranoid about them potentially siezing power and declared that no individual division have more than 200 members. Unohana interpreted this to mean "I can only have 200 *Shinigami* working under me. I can have as much support staff as I want " and has finagled her way into having the hospital staffed with non shinigami nurses, researchers, specialists and the like so the hospital isn't short staffed.

2.1: It also helps that she put the Fear Of Unohana into the political powers that be, so the staff of the fourth division are not just the best-compensated in the Gotei-13, they're some of the highest-paid people with the best employee benefits in the soul society at large.

3. I headcanon that Unohana has more or less been selectively breeding the Yamada Clan for the last millennium. Her very good friend from the founding generation Shijima Chigiri married into the Yamada Clan after they handed the fourth over to Kirinji, and Unohana has been a sort of unofficial wizened aunt to them ever since. She's not pushy about it, but it is extremely convenient for any young person who is interested in romance or starting a family to be able to go to her, because she will have a list of candidates who would be good matches in terms of personality, interests and genetic traits.

It's ESPECIALLY convenient for the Yamada because the Yamada are the single largest shinigami clan. Every single division has at least one Yamada in it, and there have been at least two Captain's Yamada. The family is occupying an unusually large section of the already shallow local gene pool, and it's very easy to accidentally start dating your cousin. The Yamadas at large are aware of her meddling, and given that the family's expected lifespan has tripled since she started, they're not about to complain.

She's mostly been breeding them for Kaido (the ability to magically heal bodies and replenish reiatsu). While Unohana has been very crafty about staffing, the ability to perform Kaido is RARE so early on, there were years when she didn't have 200 shinigami to command. And out of this major staffing issue came her idea about selectively breeding for more Kaido users.

Lately , the thing Unohana has been breeding for is temperament. As prolific and powerful as the Yamada Clan is, they're not well-liked: Hanataro's older brother and her former lieutenant Seinosuke, who regards pain management as 'optional' and will revive people actively begging for death, is a fairly prototypical Yamada. The whole family has a beautiful talent for single-minded focus, and atrocious social skills, like if one were to cross-breed a border Collie and a dumpster raccoon. While this does have the benefit of cutting down on the amount of people who turn up at the hospital who do not need to be there, it also stresses patients out, so they take longer to heal etc.

So to that end, Hanataro Yamada is a TRIUMPH of practical genetics. He's exceptionally good at Kaido and remarkably death-resistant, but most importantly, had the affable temperament and work ethic of a large draft horse, something she's been trying to introduce to the line for CENTURIES. While he's not quite old enough for her to start walking potential mates across his line of sight yet, she has the list fully prepared.

4. In more recent years, her genetic meddling has started to pay dividends and she now has SPARE kaido-positive shinigami, so she is spreading them into the seated officers of other divisions, partly so there's at least one healer on-site in an emergency, and partly because it's not a bad thing for a third of the seated officers in the Gotei-13 to salute her out of habit. Lieutenant Izuru Kira started out in the fourth before he was poached by Gin (a move that rather annoyed Unohana. He'd been shaping up to be a fine anesthesiologist.), and Thirteenth division third seat Kiyone Koetetsu was formerly unohana's fifth seat. Extremely handy to have an accomplished medic within arms reach of one of her most intractable cases (ukitake and his imploding lungs).

4.1: Byakuya Kuchiki is also a triumph of Unohana's genetic meddling, because the Kuchiki clan doesn't have a gene pool so much as vague genetic dampness. It was a miracle that poor Sojun Kuchiki made it to adolescence, let alone breeding age, his blood was so doggedly determined to evacuate his body. Unohana had... Not quite pleaded, but she had taken Ginrei aside and very gently* explained that having Sojun father any children would be cruel to the resulting offspring and that maybe senbonzakura should be passed to a branch member with less catastrophic blood problems.

* for Unohana. It was really more of an extremely blunt, academically dense and somewhat threatening slideshow

Ginrei refused, and so Unohana embarked on a clever plan of subterfuge that Sojun be attended to by only her most physically robust nurses during his long stays at the 4th. To her delight, Sojun hit it off with the ox-constitutioned Sachiko Yamada, who was of sufficient respectability and remarkable charm that Ginrei allowed the marriage. Young Byakuya had the good fortune to inherit the best aspects of both his parents- Sojun's enormous well of reiki and talent for Kido, and Sachiko's excellent health and stubbornness.

Unohana was genuinely devastated when Sachiko died quite young, defending her husband and son from the assassins of a rival clan, and again when Sojun succumbed to his hemophilia from a battlefield injury. Despite this, Byakuya continued to thrive, and when he fell in love with the as-unrelated-to-him-as-possible Hisana Aramaki, she went out of her way to see them married come hell or Ginrei.

Hisana Kuchiki died of complications from an ectopic pregnancy. The surgery to save her had been successful but had introduced a septic infection that killed her a month later. While it could not be determined where Hisana picked up the infection, the surgical center in the 4th at the time was dilapidated from centuries of putting off repairs due to budget concerns from the central 46.

Unohaba destroyed the surgical center in a fit of rage not seen since she became Retsu.

This did rather force the hand of the budget committee and the surgical center was rebuilt with a ruthless adherence to sanitary practices. There have been no incidents of post-surgical sepsis originating from the 4th since. If Byakuya blames her, he's never said a word, and still willingly goes under her knife. Regardless, Unohana blames herself. She holds out hope that he might marry again, but understands why he hasn't yet.

5. BACK ON TOPIC: As for the actual night shift, it's probably the best time to get a hold of Unohana. She has ADHD and the delayed phase sleep issues that come with it, so where most people have a circadian rhythm she has an experimental noise album. The ER is slow at night, until it's not, and then everyone present is VERY GLAD the captain and her centuries of experience at this bullshit are also here.

5.1: Counterintuitively, she almost never sees anyone from the 11th late at night these days. Zaraki and his division are far from averse to danger, but he also has centuries of experience in That Bullshit, and has been passing the benefits of his experience onto his men, in such topics as "how much water have you had? Not enough", "Protect your head goddamnit" and "the nerds in the 12th will be sad of we don't use all this protective gear they made us. Humor them."

It also helps that she has Hanataro on regular duty over there for auxiliary lessons like "don't touch snakes" and "if you think 'am I sober enough to do this?' you're not. If you think 'I'm totally sober enough to do this!' you're REALLY NOT."

In fact, the ONLY member of the 11th she's seen after midnight since Zaraki took over was Yachiru, who developed appendicitis in the middle of the night. That was alarming but entirely manageable. Having her beloved, the most anxious single father in that world or the previous one, in the waiting room, was much less manageable.

"Yamada." She addressed Hanataro the following morning, slightly haggard. "I am going to request your expertise as both my head of toxicology and 11th division liaison-"

"I've been trying to figure out a reliable sedative for Captain Zaraki for fourteen years now." Hanataro sighed. "I'm well into the snake, spider and cone snail families with no success."

"...Shit."

[jojoboisimagines]

Jojos react to you accidentally punching them in the face while roughhousing

Jojos (1-7) react to accidentally punching them in the face while roughhousing

.::.

Jonathan Joestar

Jonathan, surprisingly, isn't completely made of brick and instantly grips his nose after you strike it rather hard.

Once you apologize over and over, he lets out a strained chuckle, not wanting to worry you even longer despite it still hurting.

"beloved, you sure have a hand on you..."

He laughs, regarding of the ache that made his head spin for a moment.

"Hang tight Jojo, I'm getting some cream!" You quickly dash off.

"wait, darling, its not that bad-" Before he finishes, you had already left to get something to ease the pain

It was gone in a couple of minutes, he was a tough guy..but perhaps play hitting is off the table for a while-

Joseph Joestar

"Owowowow---did you do that on purpose??"

He's quick to accuse. It probably wouldn't be the first time you wanted to hit him for real, but this time was an honest mistake.

"no Jojo, it was just an accident!" you swear up and down, but it takes a bit before he actually believes you.

Eventually he leaves to get an icepack for his nose before Lisa Lisa or someone else sees, which would be infinitely more embarrassing.

"maybe we should just stick to tickling or something.." He mutters in a defeated manner, holding the ice up to soothe the ache.

it was admiteddly a little funny, but for the sake of him not staying mad at you, you'll withhold your laughter for now.

"I want compensation for my beautiful eye!" He holds out his hand, expecting something.

"wh--I said i was sorry! I'll get it later!"

Jotaro Kujo

Jotaro lets out a pained hiss, facepalming as he needed a minute.

Concern quickly overcomes you and you pull his hand away to make sure there was no mark or anything broken.

"Lets stop." He's no longer in the mood for play fighting--if anything he thought it was a bad idea in the first place in fear of him hurting you--when it turned out being the other way around.

You feel awful for punching him that hard on accident, especially since you knew he was probably upset or wanted to pretend he isn't hurt.

"I'm sorry, Jotaro.." Putting a comforting hand on his arm, you lean over to look at his face that had been turned from you.

"it was just a punch, i've had worse." He was right on that front, but a punch is a punch.

"alright tough guy, but at least tell me when something hurts.." You put a bag of ice on it, making him wince.

"was it not obvious-" he argues.

That was enough to make you scoff in both humor and disbelief.

Josuke Higashikata

"Oi Timeout timeout!"

Josuke makes the T gesture with his hand and heaves, now hunching over with his hands on his knees.

"..Josuke? You good?" You lean over his crouched form, not realizing how strong the impact on his face was.

"im..i'm good, just give me a minute-" he bluffs, clearly being out of breath. You didn't believe it for a second. He never was that good of a liar, to you at least.

Ignoring his protests, you go and get the first aid kit in his house's closet, coming back with some ointment and a bandaid

"There, now you look like more of a delinquint at least!~" you smile after placing it across his nose.

"True but...lets just not tell anyone this came from you punching me in the face, alright?"

Giorno Giovanna

Giorno has a...delayed reaction for lack of a better term. He certainly stops hitting and stumbles, but it takes him a moment to actually register that what he's feeling in his cheeks is actual pain

To spare your feelings, he'll act like it didn't hurt as much as it did, only rubbing the spot a bit and standing normally again.

"..giorno? You good?" you eventually ask, since he isn't really giving any hints as to why he went silent.

"i'm fine, dearest." Giorno is actually pretty good at playing it off, but you could tell his tone sounded a bit different

He likely isn't going to admit that it hurt, so you have to make the call to stop roughhousing. It wasn't worth it to mess up his pretty face.

You'll just...subtly get him some ice cream as an apology

Jolyne Kujo

"oW! you dick!"

Jolyne punches back twice as hard, which probably wasn't the best thing to do in this situation, but she's been roughhoused enough times in her life-

Now both of you were hurting, holding your heads in pain.

"j-Jolyne, did i hurt you?"

"Yeah! I said ow, didn't I?" She snaps back, rubbing her cheek.

She won't hold it against you for long, but you figure you should buy her a snack or something to 'regain her trust' again

"..need me to kiss it better?" You suggest, both as a tease and honestly.

Jolyne's eyes dart around...well, there was no one around to see, so maybe just this once. "..fine.." She unfolds her arms, scooting towards you.

Johnny Joestar

"Okay Okay I get it!-"

Johnny puts both of his hands up to shield his face from your assualt, and for a moment you think he's joking, before a whole minute goes by with him like that and not saying anything.

"..hey, Johnny, let me see..." Your hand gently coasts over his, slowly pulling it away.

His face was super red. Tears were partially visible at the corners of her eyes.

it was almost humorous, as it usually is when his face reddens, but he was also in pain

"do you need something? I can get a bandage." You suggest, not knowing where you hit to cause that reaction

"i need you to stop hitting me that hard, goddam-"

he was only making it harder not to laugh, but you were truly sorry and will treat him to coffee to make his pout go away

[aliceramblez]

Telemachus x Goddess of Joy!Reader (HCs)

pairing: epic!Telemachus x fem!reader

tags: fluff, childhood friends to lovers, telemachus is a dork, athena ships it, flower language, and some lore for the actual goddess of joy

artwork by Gigi on YouTube!

It all happens one day when you're still very young.

After a particularly stressful day working alongside your sisters to please Lady Aphrodite, you can't handle the pressure anymore, so you travel to the island of Ithaca to clear your head.

It doesn't register in your brain that you've been crying until you hear a boy's voice calling out to you asking if you're alright. It's a mortal, obviously—a boy who appears to be your age, at least physically.

“Why are you crying?”

“I... I'm tired of trying to make others happy. I just want to be the sad one for once.”

You know you aren't supposed to mingle with mortals, so you keep your responses vague in hopes of satisfying his curiosity while not giving too much away.

But it wasn't like you were lying—as Goddess of Joy, you are expected to bring happiness to the hearts of everyone around you—Aphrodite included—, and it can sometimes take a heavy toll, especially since you haven't been using your powers as long as other Gods have.

The boy stares at you for a moment before running off somewhere in the field of flowers you've been sitting in, only to come back with both a small puppy and a pink peony in hand. He hands you the flower with a smile.

“My mommy says it's okay to be sad sometimes, so don't beat yourself up over it. I think this one would look pretty on you, though!”

You take the flower, give it a look over, and then turn back to the boy with a smile of your own. That's when the puppy leaps on top of you and starts slobbering you with kisses, much to the boy's dismay but your delight.

Since then, you decide to pay Ithaca visits more frequently whenever you aren't busy, successfully meeting up with the boy again and again to play.

You finally learn who he is—Telemachus. The prince of the land and son of Odysseus, progidy of Athena. Whenever he talks to you about his father, you can see the pain in his eyes of having to be sitting around waiting for a man who may never return. You decide to use your powers once in a while to help cheer him up.

It isn't until his thirteenth birthday that he finds out who you are.

“You're a Goddess, aren't you?”

It catches you by surprise, but it's not unexpected. Telemachus is smart, so it wasn't like he wouldn't find out eventually. After revealing your true self, all he does is sit down and listen, just like he did when you met all those years ago.

“I'm sorry I never told you. I... I liked being your friend without the pressure of a title between us. I didn't want you to treat me any differently.”

Telemachus doesn't do anything other than pick up a flower from the field you're both sitting in. A purple orchid which he tucks behind your ear with a smile, making you stare in awe.

“Goddess or not, you're still my best friend! I'd think you'd know me better than that by now.”

“Haha, I do... what even gave it away?”

“You're always showing up outta nowhere and people seem much happier whenever you're around, but like, in a super quick way! Besides, there's no way someone so pretty isn't a goddess...”

It's immediately clear that last part wasn't meant to come out because pink is now covering Telemachus' cheeks, causing you to flush as well.

More years go by and you begin to share stories with him about the Gods in Olympus—how Zeus is a womanizer, Poseidon looking scary but actually being a secret softie, and of course all the beef you have with your ‘boss’, Aphrodite.

He's always so eager to listen to whatever you have to say because of his dream of becoming a noble warrior, and will also comfort you whenever you're in a bad mood.

You try doing the same when more years pass and there's still no sign of his father. You offer to use your magic to help, but he says all he needs is a friend willing to listen, so that's what you become.

Whenever the suitors are giving him a hard time, you use your powers to make them be as sickeningly sweet with one another as possible, that it sometimes looks like they're in love. You and Telemachus get a crack out of it every time.

It's you who goes to find Athena when Telemachus is fighting Antinous, begging her to come help because there's really nothing you can do on the matter. She really doesn't need much persuading, though.

You can only thank the Gods that he's fine all things considered, but seeing him all battered up with cuts and bruises all over his body breaks your heart. You're immediately by his side with a washcloth and fresh clothes so that the wounds don't get infected despite his protests.

“I-I'm fine, really! Ow!”

“You will be fine once you stop moving!”

Athena chuckles in the background as you turn to her. She's giving you a knowing smirk, causing you to look away with a blush adorning your cheeks.

Once they start their training together, you're there cheering him on from the sidelines, which kinda backfires because according to Athena “we don't need any distractions”. You apparently fall under that category, and Telemachus is covering his face all the time but you swear you can see red on the tips of his ears.

Once Odysseus finally returns home, you're surprised to see Telemachus make his way to you as you're sitting in your usual spot.

He sits beside you and seems to be fiddling with something hidden in his robe. You can't see what it is from your angle.

“Aren't you going to spend time with your father?”

“He's with my mother right now. Something tells me they're going to be a while...”

“Right, I almost forgot. She must be overjoyed! But... are you okay? I saw what happened in there and...”

“Hey, I'm okay. Athena's training paid off. I'm tougher than I look, ya know?”

He then proceeds to comically flex his muscles with a wiggle of his eyebrows, causing you to laugh at this adorkable human being. You thank the Gods that you were born in the same time period as him, because now you can't think of a life without him in it.

That's when you notice the nervous fidgeting again and he's even started to advert his gaze after the little joke he pulled off. It's strange considering he's never been the shy type—when he's got something on his mind, he'll speak up no matter what.

“Are you sure you're okay, Telemachus?”

“Y-Yeah, I'm fine! I just... wanted to give you something. As a thanks for everything you've done for me.”

And before you can say anything, he's pulling out a flower from behind his back and placing it behind your ear. You can only barely register what it is before it's out of your sight: a red rose.

“You're the most amazing person I've ever met. A-And not just because you're a Goddess! You've always been there for me even when I don't ask you to, and have my back no matter what. You're just really nice, and funny and kind... I-I..”

You can't take it anymore and before your mind registers what's happening, you're already kissing him.

As you pull away, both your faces are as red as tomatoes and you can feel the smile on your face turning large and goofy. Giggles erupt from you both.

“I love you...”

“I love you, too...”

“And I love how long it took you two lovebirds to admit it.”

Athena's owl is gazing at you both and it almost sounds as it's chuckling while you two hide your faces in each other's shoulders.

Coming to Ithaca was the best decision you could've ever taken.

[pomefioredove]

ok let's see

can I have a sugar cookie #16 with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle?

mwah ofc!

order #16, sugar with whipped cream, chocolate drizzle

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ I could do worse

summary: an arranged marriage with someone who hates you... or, who he thinks you are tropes: royalty au (but not really), exes to lovers (but not really) characters: leona additional info: romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is yuu

Okay, now you've really done it.

"You're... er, shorter than I expected," the royal tailor mutters. "Your measurements indicate height, but you..." he gives you another incredulous look. Like you're some stray cat they picked off the street.

...Which, well, isn't actually that wrong!

"I'm not that short," you mutter, though the palace guards that had dragged you in here certainly dwarfed you.

The tailor rolls his eyes. "Well, we'll make do. Only the best for Prince Leona,"

When Leona had pity-invited you to a royal wedding, you hadn't (you couldn't have) known it'd be your own.

Well... not exactly. Leona's, and...

What had the tailor said? A duke or duchess or... some other gaudy title that's surely not yours.

You hadn't even changed out of your tuna-stained scrubs from Ramshackle.

"Here, here... oh, these measurements are all wrong. You'll have to fire whoever is in charge of your wardrobe," the tailor tsks. "Not that it matters now. You must be excited- married at last!"

At last? You don't ask. "Uh, sure,"

"And the prince... well... he'll come to tolerate it,"

Oh, right. Leona. You hadn't seen him since he left you and your friends at the hotel. Does he know that he's marrying you in a few minutes? Does he know that he's getting married at all?

"...I'm sure he will,"

The tailor pins some sash over your shoulder and takes a step back. "Ah, here, perfect! Just needed a few tweaks... maybe a different pair of shoes, and-"

The doors on the other side of the room slam against the walls, sending flocks of guards, maids, cooks, florists, bakers, designers, and caterers into a flurry.

"ALRIGHT, everyone OUT!"

You're the only one unaffected. Has no one here heard Leona shout?

He stomps around the room, terrorizing the attendants. "Throw those damn flowers out," he demands. "And that cake! There's not gonna be a wedding, for the last damn time, I am NOT marrying that uptight, snobby, egotistical royal PAIN IN MY- oh, it's you."

He's looking at you now, his tone steady as if he hadn't just been snarling and stalking the wait staff like a wild animal. "What're you doing here?"

You look down at the million-thaumark outfit. "Marrying you, I guess,"

Leona makes a face. It's not a nice one.

"I'd say my brother has a funny sense of humor, but he doesn't have one at all, so I'm gonna guess you got lost,"

"Please don't tell Ace,"

He smirks, the last of the maids scampering out of the room. "Yeah, yeah. My lips are sealed,"

Leona's hands find your shoulders, helping you out of the elegant wedding arrangement, careful not to welt or wound the fabric. "How'd you end up here, anyway?"

"Was waiting for you with the others," you sigh. "Grim smelled cake and ran off. I went after him, and someone thought..."

"Of all the people," he smirks, undoing the ribbon around your waist with a deceivingly delicate touch. "Well, now I feel like a jackass. If I'd know it was you and not my dearly ex-betrothed, I wouldn't have made such a big deal out of it."

You raise an eyebrow. "Huh?"

Leona's hands close around your wrists, sliding off the beaded bracelets that had been put there by a maid with a much colder touch.

"I'm just saying," he says. "I could do worse."

"...Gee, thanks,"

"I didn't mean it in a bad way," he smiles, his hands resting on your forearms. His touch is warm.

"...But I guess you really dodged a bullet, huh?" he steps away and starts walking to the door. "Who'd wanna be married to a jerk like me?"

Your eyes widen and you follow, fumbling over your words AND the train of your wedding outfit. "I didn't say I wouldn't marry you," you say. "I'm wearing all this, aren't I?"

Leona raises an eyebrow, and then smiles. "...Hm. Y'know, I'm almost tempted to say the wedding's back on and hold you to that.

...But I think I'll save that for another day."