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yuujispinkhair · 7 months

Text

Mine

Megumi loves you. He loves you so much that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. But past experiences taught him that everyone always ends up leaving him. He cannot let this happen. He will make sure the two of you get your happy ever after!

Halloween Masterlist 2023

This story is my contribution to @nagumoan 's Dance with the Dead Collab. Thank you so much for organizing this lovely Halloween event, Loni!!

Pairing: Megumi x Reader (female) Genre: Yandere Romance, smut Word Count: 9k Warnings: 18+, dark content, yandere Megumi, unhealthy relationship dynamics, possessiveness, murder (Megumi kills someone, but it's not Reader!!), smut, manipulation, gaslighting, baby trapping, breeding, pregnancy. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

The same word keeps repeating over and over again in Megumi's mind as he looks at you lying in his lap. So beautiful. So perfect to him. You look up at him, a small smile playing around your lips, and Megumi's heart throbs.

He smiles back at you while his long fingers pet your hair. His dark blue eyes gaze deeply into yours, letting himself drown in your eyes, in your love, in your trust. You are his. His wife, his lover, his everything. You belong to him, and he belongs to you.

Mine.

Megumi likes that word. It holds a special power. Because what is love if not possessiveness?

If you truly love someone, you should give yourself to them fully. You should commit yourself to them. True love is only true love if it lasts forever. It's the only kind of love Megumi can accept. Everything else is just a lie.

Megumi doesn't think he is a good man.

He believes there is something flawed about his existence. An inadequacy. It lives in his bones, in his blood, in his soul, filling every fiber of his being.

He grew up thinking that there must be something wrong with him. Why else would his father have left him? It must have been because Megumi was lacking something. Because he was not enough.

He always thought he was undeserving of love. That he was cursed to spend his life in the shadows, rejected and lonely.

Until you came into his life and filled his darkness with your light. You showed him another world, another life. A life full of love and affection. It is safe to say he adored you right from the start.

You didn't let him scare you off with his aloof act, with his sarcasm and eye-rolling and rude comments. You saw beneath that act. You refused to let him push you away. You just smiled even brighter at him, took his hand, and pulled him into your world of laughter and warmth and love.

But the problem with stepping into the light is that you don't want to return to the dark afterward. At least, that's how it is for Megumi. You changed him in a devastating way. You gave him everything but also burdened him with the risk of losing everything.

Ever since the day you came into his life, Megumi has been working on keeping you there.

He put a huge diamond ring on your finger after only one year, staking his claim, giving you a promise, and asking for a promise from you in return.

Megumi doesn't do anything less than forever. Lifelong devotion, lifelong commitment. That's what he offers you and what he needs in return. His dark blue eyes searched for your reassurance when he knelt before you, holding your hand gently but firmly in his, offering you all of him. His life, his heart, his loyalty until the end.

He liked what he saw in your eyes. The love and warmth in them had become his everything. When you said yes and became his wife, Megumi knew he would do anything for you and for this love the two of you shared.

Megumi thinks he isn't a good man in general, but he tries his very best for you. He wants to be good for you. He wants to be the man you seem to see in him.

There is something religious about the way he adores you. There never was a God in Megumi's life. No one deserved that title after what life had thrown at him since he was little. But you, you are godly to him.

And Megumi is dedicated to worshiping you like a Goddess. He is dedicated to offering sacrifices at the foot of your altar. He is committed to protecting you, to care for you, to cherish you. To kneel before you, his pretty face pressed against your wet cunt, his strong hands caressing every inch of your skin, his soft lips kissing you, loving you, worshipping your body.

He is there to make your life easier with an endless row of little acts of service, one after the other. Driving you everywhere, preparing a hot bath for you after work, buying your favorite snacks, giving you backrubs and orgasms. Making sure to catalog all of your reactions to his touches so he learns how to fuck you the right way. The way that makes your eyes roll back and cling desperately to him, moaning how good he makes you feel.

Megumi thinks he isn't a good person, but he is a good husband. Maybe not everything about him is flawed. Maybe there is something that's worthy of love. Because that's what you tell him when you cup his face with both your soft hands and smile at him,

"Oh, Megumi, you're doing it again. I can literally see how you are overthinking. Don't worry that much, darling. Don't make everything so hard for yourself. I love you, Megumi. You're the best husband I could ever wish for."

He huffs softly, but a gentle smile lights up his face as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you against his tall, lean-muscled body. He rests his chin on the top of your head, loving how your breathing syncs with his as you snuggle against him.

"I love you too."

And yet, even as he says them, Megumi knows that the words alone aren't enough to convey his feelings for you. But he hopes he can show you how much he loves you.

Fear is a part of Megumi. It was put into him at a young age when the people who were supposed to love him and care for him left him. A mother who died too soon. A father who went to get cigarettes and never returned. A long row of different foster families who only endured little Megumi's grumpy nature and his outbursts of violence for so long before they dropped him. An older sister who did her best to love him and help him, only to get into an accident that made her fall into a coma, leaving an angry, lost, and scared teenage Megumi behind.

It taught Megumi early on that there is nothing in life he can rely on. It taught him that everyone would leave him eventually. It convinced him that some cruel fate was always walking in the shadows beside him, always waiting to dig its claws into Megumi and drown him in loneliness again.

Your light has chased away most of that darkness that haunts Megumi, but a part of it will always remain.

It flares alive when Megumi sees the way your eyes sparkle when your favorite idol appears on the TV screen. When he sees you mouth the lyrics to that guy's song, and you have that little smile on your face and sway your hips gently to the music. A song about love. Do you think about Megumi when you hear it? Or do you imagine a romance with the singer?

It makes Megumi shove the limited edition of the new album you brought home into the trash when you are at work the next day and act innocent when you search feverishly for it. He tells you that he saw it just yesterday evening lying on top of the books you wanted to return to the library after work today. You might have accidentally put it in the bag, and it must have slipped out while you were at the library. You know how clumsy you can be. But it's ok, don't worry about it. He loves you, and now let him kiss you so you forget about that CD!

The darkness flares alive when Megumi sees you carefully applying your makeup and styling your hair in the morning before work. Why do you feel the need to make yourself look so pretty for your coworkers? You shouldn't care about what they think of you.

"Darling, you've already taken up the bathroom for twenty minutes."

He walks up behind you and slings his arms around your waist, long fingers sprawling possessively over your hips as he leans down to kiss your neck. He gets a whiff of your perfume, the sexy one, the one he always associates with you under him, moaning his name and looking up at him with heavy-lidded eyes as your legs rest on Megumi's shoulders and he turns his head to kiss your ankle and breathe in the soft traces of perfume.

Cold fear forms a knot in his stomach, and his fingers tighten on your body.

"You dress up like you are going on a date... It's only work. Don't waste so much time on your makeup. Join me on a morning walk instead. Hm? What do you say, my love? The dogs would be happy too if you join us."

He sounds calm, a bit amused even. Carefully constructed criticism, so it won't make you think he is jealous. Megumi knows jealousy is a reason for many relationship problems and breakups. So, he is careful to hide his genuine emotions. He is careful to veil his true intentions behind this mask of playful teasing.

You laugh softly and lift your head to look at him in the mirror. Your small hands land on Megumi's and interlace your fingers with his.

"Aww baby, does that mean you think I look pretty?"

You playfully bat your eyelashes at him in the mirror, and Megumi's lips lift in a soft smile.

"Of course I do. My wife always looks beautiful."

He loves the feeling of your wedding ring pressing against the matching ring on his finger. He trails more kisses down your neck with growing urgency. Maybe he should show you how much he treasures you. Maybe he should remind you who you belong to. Maybe if he fucks you good enough, he will be the only one on your mind while you're at work.

His hands slip under your skirt, pushing it up as he watches you in the mirror, blue eyes looking intently as he brushes his long fingers slowly over your panty-clad pussy, rubbing your clit tenderly through the thin fabric.

He can see your lashes flutter, can see the way your lips fall open, even as a weak complaint leaves them,

"Megumi... not now. I will be late for work..."

But Megumi knows what he's doing, and soon your resolve breaks, and you are putty in his hands, leaning against him as he kisses and caresses you. Whining softly as he pushes your panties to the side and rubs your swollen wet clit in tender circles, spreading your creamy wetness over your silky folds, driving you crazy with his tender touches.

Your hands grab the sink tightly when he pushes two long fingers into your wet creamy heat, fucking you slowly with them until you are on the brink of cumming all over his hand.

His heart feels so full, and he can't help but smile when you tremble in his arms and whine and moan, begging him to please fuck you for real.

You cling desperately to him when he lifts you up and carries you back to the bedroom. You moan his name needily when he fucks you hard into the mattress, in a mating press, pressing your knees to your chest so he can go extra deep, rolling his hips slowly against yours, basking in the sounds of your wet pussy, taking his cock. Feeling light-headed upon hearing the noises you make for him, the soft mewls and loud moans.

He tells you to look at him, so he can get the reassurance of seeing the pleasure on your face and the love in your eyes when you cum for him, pussy clenching greedily around him, milking his cock as if you never want to let him go again.

He groans in satisfaction, eyes finally closing when he feels his orgasm wash over him, his cock twitching and spilling his seed deep inside you.

Afterward, Megumi helps you put on your panties again, pulling them up, even as you complain,

"W...wait, baby. I have to wash up first."

His blue eyes are stern when he looks at you and shakes his head.

"No, go like that. I want you to be my good girl and walk around all day with my cum leaking out of your pretty pussy. Think about me anytime you feel it. Think about how much I love you, darling. And once you come back home, I will fill you up again. Will you do that for me? Will you be my good girl?"

You bite your lip and grin at him, obviously turned on by his words,

"Ok, sir. I'll be your good girl."

You let him pull up your panties again and fix your skirt for you, moaning when he kisses your cheek and praises you for being so good for him.

Megumi feels much more at ease again when he drops you at work. You kiss him goodbye a bit longer and deeper than necessary, your tongue flicking against his, whispering against his lips before you part from him,

"That was such a hot morning, baby."

He feels calm and reassured when he watches you leave the car and slowly walk towards the entrance of the large building you work in. He even sings along to the music playing on the radio on the drive home and hums a little tune to himself when he takes the dogs for a walk in the park before he leaves for work.

Megumi knows he isn't a good man, but he can't help it.

There is this wolf inside him who watches with cold, narrowed eyes as you say goodbye to your coworker before you jog over to where Megumi is waiting in the parked car for you.

There is this beast inside him that digs its claws into his heart and whispers all those hurtful things into his ear.

Didn't you smile at your coworker a bit too brightly? Didn't you stand a bit too close to him? Didn't you laugh a bit too loud at whatever he said?

Megumi grits his teeth, silently growling at the wolf to shut up and fuck off.

Leave me alone! She loves me. She is my wife.

But the wolf whispers back,

But how long will she be your wife? How long before she finds someone better?

Megumi huffs and hits the steering wheel before he grabs it so tightly that his knuckles turn white. He closes his eyes and counts to ten, trying to calm his breathing.

Just in time before you yank open the passenger seat door and greet him with a broad smile and a loud,

"Heyyy, baby!"

You climb into the seat and lean over to greet him with a sweet kiss on his cheek.

Megumi can't help but reach out to put a hand on the back of your neck, elegant long fingers caressing your skin as he pulls you closer to kiss you on the mouth, a deep possessive kiss, letting you know who you belong to. Hoping that your coworker sees it.

But when he pulls away, Megumi's mask is perfectly in place. Calm, aloof, a soft smile lighting up his pretty face, blue eyes looking deeply into yours as he asks you innocently,

"How was work, sweetheart?"

You sigh and tell him about boring meetings and a workload that is much too high to handle.

He fucks you a bit harder that night, handles you a bit rougher. Harder thrusts, firmer touches. His strong hands capture your wrists, wrap tightly around them, and fix them above your head while Megumi's tall, lean-muscled body presses you down onto the mattress. His face is buried in your neck, groaning softly, whimpering your name and how much he loves you.

He sees the bruises on your wrists at breakfast the next morning, feeling guilt wash over him. Guilt that makes him hug you gently and make your coffee extra good. He breathes tender kisses on your wrists, long black lashes flutter around his dark blue eyes, his voice is low, full of regret,

"It seems I was a bit too rough last night. I am so sorry, darling."

"It's fine, Megumi, please don't worry, baby. I like it when you get so passionate."

Megumi feels the iron grip around his heart loosen. He smiles softly into your hair and kisses the top of your head, wrapping a strong arm around you and hugging you. He likes that you are so much smaller than he is, the way your face rests against his toned chest. The way you snuggle into his strong arms, sighing happily when Megumi hugs you even tighter. The way you seek the safety of his arms and the warmth of his body. The way you trust him so completely.

When Megumi pulls away, he takes your left hand and brings it to his lips to place a lingering kiss on the large sparkling diamond on your wedding ring.

Mine.

"And then she threw her stuff into a suitcase and just left!"

Your eyes are sparkling excitedly, hands gesturing wildly as you sit across from Megumi at the dinner table, apparently finding great joy in re-telling the newest drama in your friend group.

Megumi doesn't share your excitement. On the contrary, his blood is rushing loudly in his ears. He feels sick. His hand is clutching the steak knife so tightly that it hurts.

He lifts his gaze from the red juices of the medium rare meat building a little sea on the white plate. His blue eyes narrow as he fixes you with a frown,

"And she just threw her marriage away? How long have they been together? Seven years? And she just left him?"

"Megumi! Didn't you listen? He forgot her birthday! And he spent more and more time playing his online games instead of doing things with her! She was frustrated!"

And that was enough to end a marriage?

Megumi gulps hard.

Well, that's how the world ticks, right? That's how people tick. They say they love you, but then they just leave. Promises mean nothing. Words mean nothing. They get forgotten, they get twisted, they get taken back.

Seven years.

Your friend had been with her husband for seven years, and she left him because of minor, unimportant things. Instead of fighting for her love, instead of trying to talk to him and fix things, she picked the easy way and left. Just like the way most people do nowadays.

All those breakups, all those divorces. All those single parents and abandoned kids. All the tabloids are full of celebrities who split up after decades of presenting themselves as the happiest couple ever.

How is Megumi still supposed to trust in love? In you? In your feelings for him?

What if your friends put something into your head? What if one of them voices their doubt about Megumi being good enough for you? What if? What if they give you some crazy idea about looking for someone else who is not as flawed as him?

They already advocate giving up on your partner and acting as if being selfish and throwing relationships away is something one should be proud of and celebrate.

Those people are a bad influence on you. He has to do something about this.

It's easy.

He calls his cousin Maki, asking her to meet him for lunch, using family business as an excuse. He knows she will not come alone, and of course, he is right. By her side is her girlfriend Nobara, always so chatty, always so gossipy. The perfect person to help him achieve his goal.

Megumi quickly finishes the business talk with Maki, and then it's time to set his plan in motion. A few comments here and there about you feeling down lately because there seems to be drama in your friend group, and naturally, Nobara is all ears, leaning across the table, asking him for more details, grinning broadly as she soaks up the gossip greedily.

He can stir the pot. He can make up lies. He can make them look bad. He can make Nobara become indignant and invested and already typing a text message furiously.

And nothing will ever get traced back to Megumi. No one would ever think he is the type for gossip. He is a very serious and professional man who wouldn't be caught dead indulging in petty things like that. No one will believe Nobara if she mentions Megumi was involved in this.

And the beautiful thing about gossip is that no one ever finds out who started it. Once it gets released into the world, it grows and mutates until it's so messy that it's like it has its own will. No one can tell anymore who said what.

Megumi leaves with a content smile. He set things into motion today. Now, he just has to wait.

It takes three days until he catches you standing in the kitchen, your coffee forgotten, wiping tears off your cheeks and looking miserably up at him as he walks towards you with concerned blue eyes,

"Babe, what's wrong?"

You sniffle against his chest, your warm tears seeping through the thin cotton of his shirt as you tell him about the drama that escalated quickly. False accusations, one of your friends claiming you talked about her behind her back. You apparently said that she was involved in the split up of your other friend because she had an affair with the husband and wanted him for herself. And now all your other friends bonded with that friend, not believing you when you say you never did any of that.

You are crying and clinging to Megumi, sobbing into his shirt,

"They don't want to be friends with me anymore. They kicked me out of the group chat and everything!"

Megumi's arms tighten around you. He knows he is selfish. He knows he is the worst. His heart breaks for you when he feels you shaking in his arms. But he only did what had to be done. He cannot let those bitches put their dangerous opinions in your head. He cannot let anyone come between you and him. He needs you.

He hates himself for causing you this pain. But he can ease it. He can show you that you don't need those women. You already have a husband who loves you and cares for you.

He is your strong shoulder to cry on, offering you his love, his reassurance, and his compassion as he caresses your back soothingly and whispers sweet words to you.

"I am so sorry, babe. You don't deserve that. Please promise me you won't talk to them again. They don't deserve to call themselves your friends after this. And you'll always have me, darling. I am always here for you."

Megumi hates to be that guy, but he can't stop himself from balling his hands into fists under the table when you tell him about work every evening over dinner. The way your eyes gleam, the way you laugh as you recount the funny conversations you had with your coworkers.

He feels guilty. He knows a good man would be happy for you. But Megumi isn't a good man. And so he sits there stiffly, his fingernails digging painfully into his palms as the jealousy spreads its poison through his blood.

It's not fair that your coworkers get to spend so much time with you. That they have so many inside jokes with you that Megumi simply cannot understand even when you tell him about them. It's not fair that they can make you feel so much. Do you have more fun with them than you have with Megumi?

Probably. He isn't a very fun person. He is too serious, too stern, too controlled. He gulps hard, remembering one incident a year ago when you told him playfully to loosen up a bit. You had smiled and ruffled his hair, but Megumi had felt as if you had stabbed his heart. He had once again felt inadequate. Not enough.

What if you get tired of him? What if you realize that one of your coworkers is a better match for you? That one of them makes you laugh more than Megumi can? That one of them brings more positive energy into your life than Megumi can do?

What if the process of you falling out of love with him and catching feelings for someone else has already started?

Cold fear grips Megumi's heart. He has to do something! You cannot go to work anymore!

But how can he convince you to stay home? It's not like he didn't already try. Megumi is rich. He is the heir of the Zenin family, already a CEO in his mid-twenties. He could easily provide you with everything you need! The moment you were married, he suggested that you could quit your job and become a housewife. He knew lots of women dreamed of this.

But unfortunately, not you.

You had laughed and rubbed his arm, cooing at him how sweet he was. But no thanks, you wanted to go to work. You liked it there, and you wanted to have something for yourself too!

Megumi's alternate plan had been to ask you to work in his company. Wouldn't it be nice to be in his department? Wouldn't it be nice to be married to your boss?

But you turned his offer down with a smile and a sweet kiss.

"That sounds tempting, babe. But I would hate all the gossip and the accusations. You know how people are. No one would take me seriously. They would all think I have special privileges because I am your wife!"

"So what? Let them talk. Who cares what they think?"

"It would make me uncomfortable. Besides, I already have a job I enjoy and really nice coworkers. I know you only mean well, Megumi. But I don't think it would be good if I worked for your company."

So Megumi had to give up.

There is another option, though. An option that would solve all his problems and bind you even more to him: Having a baby together.

Megumi decides right then and there at the dinner table that he has to prioritize this option. His long fingers dance over his phone display, typing a quick message to Yuuji, his best friend and coincidentally a dad of two little twin boys.

He smiles when his friend replies almost instantly. Megumi puts his phone away and looks at you,

"The Itadoris will come over for coffee this Saturday."

Saturdays are always one of Megumi's favorite days. Saturdays mean you are at home, where you should be, with no work no coworkers. And this Saturday is even better because you are kneeling on the lush carpet in the living room, cooing at two pink-haired baby boys who kick their chubby legs and smile big, adorable smiles at you.

The thing with Megumi's best friend, Yuuji, is that this guy has so much charm and sunshine vibes that he can draw anyone in. And luckily, his babies are exactly the same. The perfect means to what Megumi hopes to achieve. If the Itadori babies can't convince you to become a mom, he doesn't know what else could!

And Yuuji unknowingly plays his part perfectly, too. He is sitting on the floor, laughing and playing with his twins, talking to you about how happy they make him and how amazing his life has been since he became a stay-at-home dad.

"I really enjoyed my work as a firefighter, but it is nothing compared to the joy I feel at home with the twins! This is the best thing that ever happened to me!"

You laugh and tell him he is doing such a good job, but then you add,

"Aren't you getting bored, though? I mean, as a firefighter, you had a high-energy job, with lots of physical activity and all the emergencies, the adrenalin and stuff. I guess being at home must be boring for you at times?"

Itadori shakes his head and smiles that big, toothy smile.

"Nah, I never get bored! Those two little whirlwinds keep me busy! And I can finally learn so many new recipes! I finally have time to cook and bake! And I work out at home or take long runs with the little ones in the stroller, so I am still just as active as before!"

That night, Megumi hugs you from behind and smiles against your neck as he gently strokes your stomach.

"Yuuji's twins are really cute, aren't they? You seemed to be very smitten with them."

For a moment, he thinks he has you. But then you chuckle softly and caress the back of his hand as you tell him,

"They are so cute. And Yuuji is so proud and so happy. It really makes you think, doesn't it? How would our babies look? What would life with them be like? But it's too soon. I want to work for a while longer, at least. I am so close to getting promoted. If I would take a baby leave now, I could forget that. But we still have lots of time, so it's no problem."

Megumi grits his teeth, counting silently to ten before he replies in a carefully neutral tone,

"Yes, you are right, darling. We have all the time in the world."

Megumi is a bad man, and he hates himself for it, but he can't help wishing all the worst things on your coworker. That guy with the short brown hair and the glasses. Why is it that he is chatting with you every fucking day after work? Megumi can see it all clearly from where he is waiting for you in the car.

What's that guy's problem? Why is he trying to hit on a married woman? Megumi isn't stupid. He can clearly see what those guy's intentions are! The casual touches! The big smiles and loud laughs. The overly nice farewell.

Megumi wants to get out of the car and punch that stupid smile off that idiot's face! But he has to keep cool. He has to act as if everything is fine.

Nothing is fine.

Megumi is seething with anger. His vision goes blurry as fear swallows him. It's just a short text message, but to him, it's the same as standing in the middle of the apocalypse.

"Hey babe, some of my coworkers are going out for drinks after work tonight. I agreed to join them, so please don't wait for me for dinner. I will eat something at the bar. I love you!"

His hands are shaking as he stares at the phone screen. Should he feign a sickness? He is sure you would rush home to him if he did that. But no, that will only make him look weak. You don't need a weak man. You need a strong guy who takes care of you.

There is no choice.

"Alright, darling. Have fun. Call me when you're finished so I can pick you up. I love you too."

He throws the phone onto the leather couch in his office with an angry growl. He already sees it all in his head. The chill atmosphere of the bar. The dim lights, the cocktails. The alcohol will make your mind cloudy. And your flirty coworker will use that to his advantage and steal what belongs to Megumi!

His whole day is ruined. Megumi storms out of his office, informing his assistant that there is a family emergency, snapping at her to get things managed for him when she tells him he has several important meetings today.

As if any of that is of importance! Stupid nonsense! All that matters is you!

You, who belong to Megumi! You, who is too kind and sweet and naive to realize what your coworker is trying to do!

Megumi drives home too fast, even though he doesn't even know what he can do at home. He strolls restlessly from one end of the living room to the next, breathing heavily as his mind is in a whirlwind of negative thoughts.

Evening comes, and Megumi grabs his car keys and his coat, jogs down to his car, and drives downtown. It's as if some invisible force pulls him here. As if he is some onlooker of a catastrophe that cannot look away. He needs to be there. He needs to see it with his own eyes.

He hides in the shadows outside the bar, something he has always been good at. When you are an abandoned, grumpy child who gets dismissed as a troublemaker, you learn to become friends with the shadows.

No one pays close attention to him. He isn't suspicious. He's just a tall, good-looking man in expensive dark clothes waiting for someone.

Megumi's chest feels heavy as he narrows his eyes and watches through the window. Your little group sits at a table in the middle of the bar. Happy faces, drinks get raised, laughter gets shared. Your eyes sparkle with joy. Megumi's heart clenches painfully. You are so beautiful. On the inside and outside. Everything he has ever wanted.

But you are in the cozy light of the bar, in the warm room, smiling and laughing and being loved by everyone. And Megumi is out here in the dark, in the cold of the night, all alone, someone who gets abandoned, who gets replaced. Someone who loneliness clings to like a curse.

Your coworker with the brown hair and the glasses sits next to you. Of course, he does! He leans closer to you, brushing his shoulder against yours, turning to talk to you, and you throw your head back and laugh, clearly enjoying what he said.

Megumi's hands ball into fists in the pockets of his coat. A decision is made. Megumi will not lose you. He will mold the world into one where you stay with him. He will control the circumstances, so you have no choice but to be by his side. He will erase everyone who wants to take you away from him. The first one to go will be your flirty coworker.

It's a thought that should be concerning. An idea that would terrify others. But not Megumi. He hasn't been scared of things like these for a long time. He was six when his father left. He was a little child and fended for himself for half a year before people found out he and his sister lived all alone. Megumi isn't scared of using his fists or his mind to take people down who try to hurt him. Violence doesn't scare him. The only thing that scares him is losing you.

It takes a week of planning and observing before everything is perfect.

Megumi picks you up from work and drives you home like every day. He kisses you tenderly as he lets you get out of the car in front of your apartment, telling you that he has to go back to the Zenin building because he still has to make some changes to an important business contract. He drives to his office and makes sure several people see him before he sneaks out and drives to another part of the city.

He parks his car in a sidestreet and walks the rest of the way. His heart is beating rapidly, but his mind is strangely clear. He is a man on a mission. A righteous mission. A husband who ensures his marriage will stay happy.

The black leather gloves feel soft on his hands as Megumi jogs through the dimly lit park. He spots his rival after ten minutes. Megumi follows him slowly, blue eyes observing their surroundings carefully. He feels excited. The thrill of the hunt is sending adrenaline through his veins.

Megumi feels grim satisfaction when he tackles the man to the ground behind a group of trees. He doesn't feel any remorse when he brings the knife down in several precise movements. He can't bring himself to see anything wrong with his actions. He hates bad people, and this guy clearly is a bad person if he is trying to steal someone else's wife. He deserves to die!

Megumi feels elation when he watches with cold blue eyes as the life seeps out of the man who wanted to steal you.

His heart feels light when he finally is back in his car after leaving the cold body of his rival lying in a bloody puddle. He whistles a soft tune on the drive home, feeling as if a great weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

He goes home to you, takes a quick shower, and then slips into bed behind your warm body, smiling when you snuggle against him, mumbling his name with so much love. He makes slow love to you, rolling on top of you, gentle, sleepy sex that makes you wrap your legs around him and mewl cutely as he moves on top of you, deep, slow thrusts accompanied by tender kisses.

You call Megumi at noon the next day when he is in the middle of a meeting. He excuses himself, taking your call to hear your shrill voice telling him that something terrible happened.

And Megumi smiles while he tells you,

"That's horrible, darling. I am coming to pick you up immediately. Please don't go anywhere without me."

He is a good husband, rushing to your workplace to pick up his distraught wife and take her home.

He wraps you in a warm blanket on the couch and brings you tea. He hugs you, pulls you into his strong arms, and tells you he is there for you, tells you that you are safe with him and that he will always protect you.

And you cling to him, crying, scared, and shaken up, burying your face in his chest, snuggling against his firm muscles.

"It's so... It's so crazy and scary. I mean... I have been sitting across from him in the office for several years! We got along so well! I would even say we were friends! And now he... he is... oh god, Megumi! He just went on a run in the park, and someone robbed him and stabbed him! It's like you aren't safe anywhere anymore!"

You hiccup, pressing your face against Megumi's firm chest, your fingers clutching his shirt tightly. He holds you and cuddles you while feeling elated that you need him so bad.

You call in sick for work for three days in a row, and Megumi thinks he has you. You are shaken up, scared by the fact that someone you know got murdered. A terrifying reminder that life outside isn't safe. You could get attacked anywhere at any time.

Megumi pets your hair and strokes your back, telling you to lock the door and snuggle under the blanket with the dogs.

"They will protect you while I'm at work, my love. You are safe here. Just don't leave the apartment. I will be back in a few hours and look after you."

He thinks he did it. He thinks you finally see that it's best to always stay in here. He thinks he can finally rest assured, knowing his sweet wife will only see him and no one else.

But the relief is short-lived.

You get out of bed on the fourth day, smiling bravely and telling Megumi that you feel better again.

"I can't hide away in here forever, Megumi. I have to get back to work."

He punches the wall when you close the bathroom door behind you, cursing under his breath. Why are you doing this to him? Why can't you just let Megumi take care of everything? Why must you be so adamant about standing on your own feet?

Fear is crashing over him again with thick black waves, pulling him under and drowning him in a sea of desperation.

Everything was fine for a few days! You were here, safe and sound, and letting Megumi dote on you! You were only his alone for a few days, and it had felt like the world was finally at peace, that Megumi was finally at peace! He cannot lose this feeling again!

Megumi is an intelligent man, and that is his curse! He isn't one of those naive fools like Itadori, who is, of course, a kind and amazing person, but he is too trusting, always smiling his stupid sunshine smile and not thinking much when his wife leaves the house to go to work all day and meet her friends and coworkers.

Megumi cannot be like that! He knows things! He knows firsthand how unreliable people are! People change their minds all the time. Even those closest to you might leave from one day to the next.

Love doesn't last. Even couples who have been together for decades suddenly cheat on each other and get divorced.

It all comes down to one thing: You cannot trust anyone. Even the most loyal soul might get weak when faced with too much temptation. And why would you stay with someone as flawed as Megumi if you ever get presented with the choice to be with someone who is perfect?

It's not that Megumi doubts your love for him in the here and now. He knows you love him. He frequently reads the texts you send your remaining friends where you swoon about him. He sees how your face lights up with affection when he does all those little acts of service for you. He sees you cry and sob and whine for him almost every night when he makes sure to fuck you so good that he spoils you for any other man.

Yes, you love him. But this is now. What will be in a year? In five? In ten?

Megumi simply cannot bring himself to be as naive as to believe in eternal love and loyalty. His father made sure to show him otherwise. People like Itadori are so clueless, so naive. But not Megumi. He is always prepared to get left behind again.

It's natural. Feelings fade with time, and then it all depends on other circumstances.

Love won't be enough.

He has to make sure you stay with him, not just because you love him because that love can vanish. He has to make sure you are dependent on him. You have to know you cannot just walk away. He needs to make sure you are financially dependent on him. And he has to make sure you don't have anyone else but him. If you have nowhere else to go, you must stay with him.

He slowly unclenches his fists, forcing himself to breathe calmly. He can do this. There must be a way! He already succeeded in isolating you from that friend group he didn't approve of. Now, if you only weren't so stubborn when it comes to work!

Megumi sighs and runs a hand through his unruly black hair. His gaze lands on a patch of color sticking out from under the carpet before the couch. He frowns and walks over, leaning down to inspect it. It's a red pacifier. Yuuji must have dropped it.

Megumi picks it up and holds it between two elegant fingers, turning it thoughtfully from one side to the next.

Maybe there is one more thing he can do.

It's a good thing he is so skilled with his fingers. It's difficult to manipulate the packaging of your birth control pills, but Megumi took the day off to execute his plan meticulously. He carefully pulls the aluminum foil off the blister packaging, flushes the contraceptives down the toilet, and then replaces them with some mild painkillers that look identical.

It takes some effort to fix the foil again, but Megumi has steady hands, and he is driven by desperation and a firm conviction.

By the end of the day, he holds the manipulated packaging proudly in his hands.

He feels a tiny wave of guilt when he puts it back into your nightstand. But it vanishes again when he reminds himself that he is doing this out of love. He just wants to make sure the two of you stay together. And he knows that even if you are shocked at first, you will learn to embrace the thought of becoming a mother.

You were so happy when you saw Yuuji's twins! You will be even more delighted when it's your and Megumi's baby that you hold in your arms! He is just giving you what you want anyway. A happy family. Megumi and you, your baby, and two dogs! The perfect family everybody wishes for! You will learn to love your new life!

Megumi waits. Of course, he keeps track of your monthly cycle. It's something he has always done. As a good caring husband, he always wanted to know at which times of the month the hormones would make you act a certain way, make you sad, or make you horny. But now it's like a countdown to Christmas or his birthday.

Megumi's eyes follow you all day, excitement tingling in his veins when he kisses you before you leave for work. You have started to ovulate. Tonight, he will breed you.

You both don't get a lot of sleep that night. Megumi pulls you onto his lap after dinner, kissing you deeply, licking into your mouth with deep, demanding kisses while his graceful hands slip under your skirt to rub your clit through your panties, driving you wild on his lap, making you mewl into his mouth and grind needily against him, so wet that you stain his pants.

He smiles when he steers you to the bedroom, his cock throbbing eagerly against his pants. Tonight, he will make you a mommy.

You look so beautiful beneath him, your face sweaty and damp from tears of bliss running down your cheeks, your eyes closed in pleasure, your mouth hanging open in loud moans and needy mewls.

Your legs rest on Megumi's shoulders, your body writhes under him, meeting every deep thrust of his needily. He can feel your cunt twitch around him, can feel how wet you are for him, how it stains the bed sheets under you. He can smell how fertile you are, that unmistakenly sweet, enticing smell your pussy has when you are ovulating. It drives him wild tonight. It makes him fuck you hard and deep, rubbing your clit firmly to make you cum on his cock over and over again, making your orgasming pussy milk him dry.

You are so good for him, such a sweet wife, such a good girl, taking all his seed so deeply into you. And Megumi makes sure to keep it in there. He lies on top of you, pressing you into the sheets, moaning softly, his heart overflowing with love when his lips find yours in a long, tender kiss while your pussy pulses around his spent cock.

He stays inside you until his cock softens and slips out of you, leaving a hot sticky trail of his seed and your cream on your inner thighs. Megumi watches you with heavy-lidded dark blue eyes as he pushes his cum back into you, fingering you thoroughly with his ring finger and middle finger, watching in fascination as your combined juices drip down his long fingers and onto the wedding ring he is wearing.

He smiles and coos at you, full of love and praise, telling you how beautiful you are and how much he loves you, groaning when he feels your pussy tightening around his fingers.

"Yes, princess, you are such a good girl for me. Cum on my fingers, sweetheart. Fuck, you're so beautiful!"

He smiles as he watches you come undone for him, letting him fuck all his warm seed back into you, stuffing you with it, making sure you keep it all inside.

For good measure, he takes you again an hour later, fucking you deep and thoroughly, rolling his hips against you, making his full balls slap loudly against you, giving you all his fertile seed, smiling when he imagines you holding a blue-eyed black-haired baby on your arm, waiting for Megumi when he comes home after work.

He comes so hard that he almost blacks out, and his loud feral moan is even drowning out your needy mewls.

Megumi watches you wolfishly. He knows your period should have started three days ago. But every time he checks your stack of tampons and pads, he can see that you haven't used any yet.

He feels a glorious satisfaction as he watches you grow more nervous every day. You constantly leave for the bathroom, probably to check whether your period has finally started, only to return with a feverish look in your eyes.

He waits patiently for several days more so as not to arouse any suspicion. Then he casually asks after kissing you goodbye when leaving for work,

"Oh babe, I'm going to grab some things at the drugstore today after work. Do you need anything? I think you are pretty close to that time of the month, aren't you? Do you need tampons or pads?"

He has to bite his lip not to smile when he sees the emotions flickering over your face. Worry, shame, nervousness. Your lips start to tremble, and finally, you spit it all out,

"I... Oh, Megumi! It should have started six days ago! I am so worried! Like I know it can't be. I... I can't be pregnant... I am on the pill! But... but it's so strange! I have never been late!"

He feigns understanding, smiling gently at you and pulling you against his chest, hugging you comfortingly to his tall, lean-muscled body.

"Aww, please don't worry, darling. It will be fine. Maybe you forgot to take a pill? It can happen so fast. Life is hectic."

He can see your eyes widen. It was a good thing to say. You can be pretty chaotic and forgetful. It's easy to cast doubt and make you believe it was your mistake. He can feel you stiffen in his arms. And when you lift your head to look at him, guilt is written all over your pretty face,

"Shit... that's a possibility, yeah. I can be such a distracted idiot! I am so stupid!"

"No, please don't blame yourself, babe. Really, it's ok. Look, we already agreed that we want to have kids someday, right? So, what if it happens a bit sooner than planned? I don't mind at all, darling. I love you, and I will always take care of you and our possible kids. Don't worry."

You blink rapidly as tears gather in your eyes, and Megumi cups your cheek and caresses it tenderly,

"Why don't you take the day off, babe? We can buy some pregnancy tests and see what's going on. And no matter what the tests say, everything will be fine, I promise you. You can always count on me, my love. We will get through everything together."

You nod wildly and smile gratefully at him as tears run down your cheeks, and you throw yourself into Megumi's arms again, letting him comfort you.

"O...ok, Megumi. Thank you, baby. I love you too."

You are so cute like this, nervous and scared, needing Megumi so much. He drives you back home with only one hand on the steering wheel. His other hand is clutched tightly between your cold fingers. A small happy smile tugs at the corners of Megumi's lips. He likes this. He likes being needed by you.

Finally, things will be in his favor. He knows it.

You are a nervous wreck the whole remaining day, pacing the living room restlesssly until Megumi gets in your way and makes you bump against his tall, lean-muscled body, and he pulls you in his arms, reassuring you, giving you all the comfort and love you need.

Megumi sets an alarm for six in the morning so you can take the pregnancy test. He is already awake, unable to sleep with how excited he is when the alarm starts blaring, and you jump out of bed at the first sound of it, shaking a bit as you look at him with big eyes,

"It's time... ok, I'll... I'll take the test now."

And Megumi is there for you, of course. He is the best husband you could wish for. Caring, loving, devoted, reliable. Megumi is someone you can count on. He smiles gently at you and takes your hand.

"You mean, we will take the test now. I am here for you, sweetheart. You aren't alone."

He leads you to the bathroom. He reads the instructions to you and hands you a plastic cup. He leans against the sink and smiles as you pee into the cup, refusing to leave your side even for one minute. A husband and wife can share every moment after all. There is no shame.

You smile sheepishly at him as you walk over to him, and Megumi takes the plastic cup out of your trembling hand.

"You're doing great, darling. Let me do the rest."

He prepares the test and pulls you into his strong arms, letting you hide your face in his firm, muscled chest, breathing in the comforting scent of the shirt he slept in while you wait for the test result.

Megumi strokes your back soothingly. His lips brush over your earlobe as he murmurs to you,

"No matter what the test says, I love you."

The sound of the alarm makes you jump. Megumi is the one who takes the test off the sink with steady fingers. He already knows what it will say.

"Pregnant."

His strong arms catch you when you sway lightly on your feet. His lips press gently against your hair, breathing a soft kiss to your forehead. You cannot see it, but the smile on Megumi's face is the happiest he has ever smiled.

You bury your face in his shirt, your voice sounds muffled, full of tears,

"I am so sorry Megumi! If only I had been more careful! I... oh god, what if I fail at being a mom? And now you will have so much more responsibility too, and it's my fault, and I..."

He silences your tearful ramblings by making you lift your head and capture your lips in a deep kiss, licking the salty taste of your tears out of your mouth. His heart feels like bursting, so exhilarated, so happy. It's lovely to see you so weak. So dependent on him. He loves to be needed.

He cups your cheek lovingly when he pulls away from the kiss. Dark blue eyes look deeply into yours, almost as if he is trying to hypnotize you and drill his words into your brain,

"You will be a wonderful mom, and I will gladly take on this new responsibility. I love you, and I love our child. I will always provide for you, darling. I will always be yours, and you will always be mine."

He finally has everything he ever wanted. A diamond ring is sparkling on your finger. Your belly will soon be swollen with his baby, showing everyone his claim on you. You will stay at home from now on, far away from anyone who could possibly steal you away from your husband.

And if you decide to return to work one day, Megumi will just knock you up again. He is obviously quite skilled at fucking a baby into you, and he will do it as often as the circumstances require it.

Yes, Megumi finally has everything he ever wanted.

You.

Mine. Mine. Mine. Forever.

Thank you so much for reading my second story for Halloween 2023!! I am sorry that it got so long, but it was so much fun to write Megumi's descent into madness ;)

I hope you enjoyed Yandere!Megumi!! Please let me know what you think. Comments and reblogs would be very sweet!!

Once again, thank you so much to Loni for hosting this super fun Halloween Collab!! I could finally write this story after having it in my drafts for two years!!

#megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi smut #fushiguro x reader #fushiguro x you #fushiguro smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #tw dark content #tw yandere #tw pregnancy

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fukashiin · 1 year

Text

high school sweethearts au

— w. riddle, ace, leona, jack, octatrio (collectively), jamil, vil, rook, silver, malleus

⤷ oh dear diary, i met a boy, he made my dull heart light up with joy.

a/n: a valentine's day special!! i enjoyed writing this sm<33

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS AS

⤷ THE STUDENT LIBRARIAN !

- the student who volunteered for library duties when no one else would. he mostly works behind the counter with his eyes glued to the screen of his computer—looking for the names of those who had overdue books to return. an esteemed honour student at the same time, the envious mixture of methodical and dutiful that makes the role of a student librarian fit him like a glove.

- he mostly reads at his own pace—a fascinating volume of historical topics covered through the years. rusted evidence that he likes to give his own insights on at the tip of his fingers. sometimes people catch him wondering a bit too far, as his eyes stray off to certain page for way too long.

- despite his free time, he still takes care of his own duties that needs to be carried out, from arranging books back to their rightful shelves, tidying up used tables of its multi-coloured eraser shavings and lost pencils that he hands up to the lost-and-found.

YOUR DYNAMIC

- you often stop by the library for self-revision, a thick stack of textbooks that sit pretty at the side of your table as you have your own necessities. you don��t have much to do after this particular study session, so you plan to head back to your own dorm after reliving your memory of the chapters the teachers have went through with you in class today.

- strangely, unknowingly—the table you sit at is always empty. always reserved for a certain someone. that’s when your relationship with riddle started to bloom.

- any time he spots you at the corner of his eye once you enter the air-conditioned space, he throws a small smile your way and elegantly places the book he was reading down to stroll to your side to help you carry your bag that you were sure was about to dislocate your shoulder.

- he sits by your side whenever you needed help, some topics just simply played a baffling game of chess with your head that you dread to the core. but he’s more than happy to help one way or another. either to point out to you specific key words, gently grabbing the highlighter out of your grasp, initiating eye contact with you with the textbook closed to help you memorise important points for so long the rate of his heartbeat starts to speed up—

- the air between you two really alleviates your burden and the packed schedule you have to attend to on a daily basis. with school is a bucket of workload that’s dumped onto you. with riddle, is a soft feeling. you don’t have to worry about your planned itineraries for the day and you can be yourself for a while.

he’s full comfort, a swift reminder of those drizzly cinnabuns you two go for a bite for when classes are over for the day.

- it’s no surprise he has his plate full with library duties either. so to pay him back, you offer him to head for a bookstore somewhere outside the campus, assuring him that you’ll deal with things when his mom intervenes for his “unthinkable” behaviour. in return, he’ll purchase as many books for you as want. hard covers, too.

ACE TRAPPOLA AS

⤷ THE PLAYER ON THE BASKETBALL TEAM !

- it’s as in-character as you think it is. you’ve lost count of the number of times he’s pointed a conspicuous finger at you when you’re sitting on the bleachers, yelling out your name and promising he’ll score a shot for you! much to his disappointment (and surprise, for some reason), the ball just bounces right off the hoop and crashes into another player on the team.

- the indoor sports hall is a huge advantage for him since it lets him connect his phone to the bluetooth speakers, letting him blast out his music of choice that consists of endless tracks from nba youngboy and eminem when the coaches were absent and the company could carry on with free training.

- his classmates adore him, but the teachers hold their breath in at the thought of having him in their class. a truly slothful student to some extent—but is able to ace every test given out. higher authorities wanted to believe their eyes were playing a trick on them when they take a glance at his report card that contained a full, gleaming row of straight A’s.

- cheeky at heart and playfully flirts with whoever he wants just for the fun of it, not to get their contact number just to ghost them later on like he did with a past lover. he’s learned his mistake and he’s willing to do better, both academically and athletically. but he supposes he could get used to the popularity for a while.

YOUR DYNAMIC

- resists the urge to dropkick his teammates whenever they send out mischievous whistles his direction when they see you with him. he’s just asking for your notes! nothing else in mind like scrawling his phone number down on some lined-paper and slipping it into the back of your notebook in hopes that you notice and send out a few messages to him when you’re back at your place (and develop into something more...?)

- the type of person who didn’t believe in young love at first before he met you. now, you two make small trips to the school cafeteria to purchase your favourite smoothies when practise was stopped to a 5 minute break. smoothly sweet talks his way out of paying—but doesn’t see your kindness to be taken control over. In return, he tells you the answers for the upcoming test he was able to get his hands on, whether you’re going to use them or not.

- denies (anticipated) accusations that you and him were together in an “uncool” manner, according to him. it’s even worse when you’re present, there to see his face burst in pink and his speedy mannerisms, like telling you to “ignore them!” or shoving you into the nearest locker so his friends don’t catch a glimpse of you.

- sometimes his eyes stay on your face for way too long the atmosphere starts to contort into a weird, one-sided stare-off when it’s supposed to be your one-on-one study session with him. you take notice that he’s not looking at the tip of your pen that’s pointing to a specific part of his notes and threaten to poke his eyes out if he doesn’t focus. you could only giggle internally when he fumbles about and retracts his stare from your face.

- questions you if you’ve been in any past relationships, only to reject hearing your answer when he’s too afraid that he may be outshone in some way.

- but you reassure him that you haven’t, and you’re more than happy to enter into one with him. with that, you see him gleefully punch a fist into the air once he’s off on his way to tell his teammates about it, too in his thoughts that he forgets about the teasing he’s about to be bombarded with afterwards.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR AS

⤷ THE CLASS SLACKER !

- similar to his junior ace in some ways. petty, bored, but effortlessly gets the highest grade in the class. it’s no surprise that even the overachiever who sits behind him and sees his big, outstanding ‘100′ penned in red at the corner of his paper that easily outdoes their imperfect ‘98′, has to keep their tongue in to ward off the nasty feeling of shooting the rudest vulgarities out of their mouth.

- lessons in session automatically translates to “do whatever you want for the period”—no matter the subject he takes. he often gets caught folding paper origamis or writing down the most prankish notes just to crumble it up and toss it the teacher’s way.

hands a little too skillful has him crafting numberless spitballs that he uses as imaginary missiles to shoot into random people’s hair. the preppy boys can wave a sad goodbye to hair day when leona appears with a handmade launcher in the hallway.

- though with such a behaviour, leona somehow seems to make himself appear approachable from his short-formed responses and dismissive nods. but could anyone have ever guessed that he would act so mind-blowingly different with someone else?

YOUR DYNAMIC

- if he ever catches your mood down in the dumps, he insists you to come with him to the cat cafe that holds many cuddly creatures to help aid the minds of those tireless students piled with projects to complete with mind-boggling deadlines. either he enjoys getting swarmed by the adorable army of kitties himself, or looks at you with the softest eyes thinking about how you strangely resemble them as you get lost in distant laughter when one of them decide to curl up in your lap.

- sneakily shares his stash of snacks that he managed to shove into his bag at the back of the class when the two of you were luckily placed together during seat arranging. each low-key pass of a sweet was complimented by his deep chuckle as he feels rewarded by the numerous suspicious stares that fly by both of your ways.

- nonchalantly terrifies any cheap intimidators when he catches you getting cornered. you wonder if his initial plan backfired and that he actually made them fall in love with him with his unfairly gorgeous face? (you don’t blame them)

- growls at whoever takes the chance to wake him up from his day-to-day naps, rolling his eyes at their dumbassery when it’s a whole different story when it comes to you. when you do it (with panicked warnings you got beforehand), leona takes a while to get familiar with the touch of your skin and swishes his tail from side to side when he recognises your oh-so sweet scent he cherishes to the moon and back.

raises an eyebrow at you for being so brave to take the opportunity to wake him up, promising he’ll pay you back tenfold when in fact, he really, really hopes he can grow much more affectionate with you when time passes, until skin contact becomes a normal thing between the two of you.

JACK HOWL AS

⤷ THE (ACTUALLY SMART) JOCK !

- people genuinely wonder in disbelief why he’s so taken aback by the number of students who swoon over him when they see him doing his daily sets of warm-ups in the gym by himself. his ear twitches in the slightest when he feels four—five, pairs of eyes burning right into his back.

- he’s a lone wolf to some extent- but that doesn’t mean he’ll drive away his friends who thrive to stretch right beside him, despite being a literal twig compared to jack. they’ll all do tons of sets together while emitting the roughest groans from their aching bodies until sweat is seeping ceaselessly out of their outfits.

unsurprisingly, jack is still up and full of stamina as he silently praises himself for not being as slow-minded as his friends since he changed into his p.e attire ahead of time. +10 health gained back for him.

- the coaches normally pick him out as the representative when international competitions are around the corner. with him representing the school, there’s definitely going to be headlines and news reports made about them! except when he actually wins it isn’t. people are seen firing bountiful praises online at jack for his athleticism for a 16 year old, in awe at how he always manages to place first.

- is more than happy to help anyone out when activities take a wrong turn and result in them being injured. whether if it’s being in a wheelchair or in crutches, he takes the opportunity to bring them to their destination on time.

YOUR DYNAMIC

- his eyes immediately dart to you when the teacher announces for everyone to form a pair for pre-activity stretching. he takes the lead to call out what set of stretches to do and helps to adjust your posture or the angle of wherever your arm is pointing to. his firm hands coming in contact with your body invites a quick rush of blood to your cheeks, startled with the sudden proximity that came about. it doesn’t help the fact that his steady breath is on your skin, unaware of his swift movements that he didn’t bat an eye to (why is he like this?)

- when all the physical stuff is done for the day, he’ll give you a small nudge on the shoulder and tell you he’s going to get some water. what took you aback was when you thought he was getting it for himself—being as hardworking as he is, it only makes sense to reward himself for putting up with you and your incapability with some activities.

- but instead, he brings back two bottles of water, briskly handing one over to you before he open his. he makes sure to assure you that you weren’t a problem at all, and that you deserve a restful break after all your physical exertion.

- not just crazy athletic but simultaneously smart as well! but when his classmates ask for his homework answers in dire need to not be caught by the teacher, he hits them with a “you should’ve done it at home” and gets up from his seat to hand in his work. you don’t know whether to laugh or feel bad for that person. the student then gawks at both you and jack when he lets you in on his answers instead.

- even when he has an enormous fanbase full of people who adore him and wish to talk to him more just for the sake of it, he always makes sure to come to you first, to check in on your health, both mentally and physically, to know that you’re healthy and ready for the day.

OCTATRIO AS

⤷ THE POPULAR GROUP !

- as the owners of a lounge that’s quite far from school grounds with quality dishes you’ll never find anywhere else and their dashing looks that shoot an arrow right through people’s lovestruck hearts, it’s no wonder that their popularity skyrockets through the roof when you found out that they go here. you’ve seen a few of the posts they share on magicam—and they’re the perfect definition of young, beautiful, and dirty rich.

- people would kill to watch them pass by in the hallways of the very school they’re in. this trio, with their alluring cologne and clad in neat, tidy clothing that doesn’t even necessarily have to be of the latest trends but still making them look amazing—ambling in the bustling halls? suddenly, lessons were called off for the day and there’s no homework due the day after. the trio quietly snicker to each other in the process.

- there’s definitely a fangroup about them. all they could be doing was to order lunch at the school cafeteria, and the group chat students made based on them would turn wild when floyd faces back to give a sly “cheese~” at the camera that was facing his way.

YOUR DYNAMIC

- unfairly spoils you to death as they give you special discounts at the lounge, telling you that it doesn’t matter whatever you order, their vip customer is always getting 10% off the price. if that’s too low—azul’s more than willing to give you a better benefit. proceeding your easy-earned discounts, jade suggests that they carefully plan out a drink based off of you and your personality, questionable intentions in mind as he proposes the idea to make it the most expensive drink on the menu too.

- absolutely loves to have you sit at their table during break, letting you in on their latest gossip. the amount of intel that they collected on their recent “customer” that created a scene at the lounge for not being open when it clearly had its working hours placed at the entry is rather concerning. floyd gives a shameless wink your way and tells you to not reveal this treasured piece of information. (gaslight gatekeep girlboss)

- weekend sleepovers at their place consists of them researching the finest ingredients and dishes to add to the menu and them serving up some steaming platter for you to try your taste buds on to give some feedback on it. well, including a small competition to win your heart over as well.

- people are flabbergasted at the amount of attention you receive from these three. “jealous” wasn’t a word too far off to describe their feelings either, and it wasn’t any better. you’d sometimes wonder whether it was a good idea to become friends with this particular trio.

but you can rest assured that they’ll handle with any bad outcomes that dares to come about, and if it’s regarding their large fanbase—they have just the solution. nobody would say no to rushing to the lounge and being up to date with the latest release of their newest dish that you so nicely tried out for them.

- even as the three of them secretly try their best to win your heart over, they’ll also make sure to check with your boundaries and query you if they ever pass the line of comfort. if that so happens anytime, they’ll apologise by doing whatever you want free of charge! they dote on you a whole ton, and truthfully, relish in the time they get to spend with you.

JAMIL VIPER AS

⤷ THE SKATER BOY !

- the student who’s effortlessly charismatic because of his chill and dismissive attitude. the teachers are either pulling their hair out because of him or praising him for being early to class as they spot him waiting outside with him and his rusty ipod he just found that’s been collecting dust in his storage room. he vaguely remembers it as a gift given by a loved one, hence, why he keeps it safe wherever he goes.

- comes to class ROCKING those white vans like okay??? i see you???

- concerning him and school as a whole—it’s just as if he slithers right by his classmates’ attention like how a snake slithers through grass. he’s awfully sly and nimble, skipping class just to head out to the skate park that’s spray painted in graffiti all over by some infamous artists. he personally doesn’t care—it just adds to his presence of mind and how much fun he’s going to have. self-skating sessions are a fresh breather for him, indifferent to his number of absences.

- and don’t forget the secret rush of ego he gets when people stop and stare to watch him do his challenging tricks over the ramps and metal railings. it’s mesmerising how his hair flows so prettily in the wind and the golden glow of the sunset that highlights his features, like, how some people dramatise, an angel fallen from the blinding heavens. jamil rolls his eyes behind their backs once he’s finished his set of tricks.

YOUR DYNAMIC

- honestly didn’t think of you much when you two first met, but now his heart, baggy clothes, and skateboard are all yours.

- when you spot him alone in the corner of the classroom when it’s a free period, a smile inevitably creeps up his face and he gives a relaxed wave as you come up and say hi to him. you’ve always been rather interested in his music taste and what was playing on those ipods of his, so when you do make it noticeable to him, he takes out the left side of his earphones and places it in your ear for you, fingers brushing the shell of your ears. you hope he didn’t feel how boiling-hot it was.

- daily stop-bys at the vending machine to talk about hot shit. you both agreed to pay for the drinks for the other on some days and do the same back. he finds such a leisure time so precious and, as much as he’s having double thoughts about it, he’d very rather much spend his alone time with you than in a class filled with students. especially when the class clown is present. eugh.

- he’s memorised your go-to drinks by now, and whenever you’re absent from school, he makes an effort to walk to your place to tend to you and hand over your favourite beverage once you’re up and better than ever.

- texts you in the dead of the night, asking if you’d want to head over to the skate park with him there to teach you some tricks he’s learnt on his own accord. agreeing was probably the best thing you’ve done all day, with the built-up pressure you get to release on your time with him as he helps you get rid of your muscle strains. he holds your body close, keeping you balanced on his skateboard as the late night breeze whisks through your clothes and the luminous shine that comes from the stars above makes him feel grateful for being here, with you. alone and together with no one to interfere.

VIL SCHOENHEIT AS

⤷ THE SCHOOL TRENDSETTER !

- as you may have guessed, the student who has the largest following in the entire student body. to help maintain his public image—he makes sure to arrive to school glammed up, with smooth and silky hair he applied the perfect fragrance of rosemary oil on to and his latest combination of outfits that’s bound to go viral both on magicam and in the school. he makes it a habit to bring along his miniature makeup pouch with him wherever he goes!

- instantly gets a whopping 100 views on his latest story he posted on his account about the most recent addition to the school cafeteria’s menu. he’s hyper-aware of his calorie intake, so he probably criticises it in the caption. “0/10. doesn’t make my ass fatter than it is now”

- sometimes has to leave mid-class to attend his monthly photoshoot session. there’s no doubt he’d be starting to pack his things during class and his classmates would already have an idea on where he’s about to go. the close circle of his friend group promises to notify him about the homework that’s going to be due soon, and he makes sure to blend them an incredibly tasteful smoothie he heard about not too long ago in thanks.

YOUR DYNAMIC

- it just had to be one of those days where you’re at your worst. vil can tell as much from your gloomy behaviour and sloppy appearance that does your figure no favours. though he lets out a disapproving click of the tongue, he places his hand on your shoulder, reassuring you that whatever you’re going through will come and go.

- and, he hands out this one-of-a-kind opportunity to even purchase whatever apparel from the hottest brands that’s to your liking for you. who could ever ask for a better offer?

- if things are still dour, he lets you stay in his room for the night. the type of supportive friend (he hopes not for long?) to give you reassuring affirmations that whoever broke your heart doesn’t deserve you (and he does). he wants you to know that you’re ethereal just the way you are, and you shouldn’t downgrade yourself just because of somebody or something you can pass by. there’s some vinyls he keeps at a shelf at the side of his room,

if you want to play a song of your choice on the record player, he’s more than delighted to let you.

- when annual prom nights are going to take place a few days away, vil rings up his model agency to call upon another fashionista to help out with your outfit for the stirring night you can’t sit still for. converses with the right person they picked out and makes decisions set in stone, with the exact measurements that compliment your figure along with a flawless colour.

he takes the chance to do your makeup for you, and you can’t tell whether it’s because he’s taken familiarity with your visage or to just get his face closer to yours just to fluster you. you’ve taken a wild guess that it’s both.

- once prom is over and the crowd starts to clear out, vil books a cab back to his place so you two can have your well-deserved baths for as long as you want, accompanied by his endless supply of skincare products. he loves seeing you grow and blossom into a better person. he’ll make sure to do it alongside you, until he actually claims your heart.

ROOK HUNT AS

⤷ THE THEATRE KID !

- a cheerful soul who skips through the halls while humming a tune from one of the latest musicals he watched. his seemingly never-ending glee that lights the hallways up in an eye-blinding radiance is beyond people’s comprehension. rook, frankly, doesn’t mind the stares he gathers from such a spaced-out area, as long as he does his other theatre friends good in promoting the drama club.

- people mostly catch him hanging around in the auditorium, sitting with the other club members as they take out their practise on vocalisation and in depth emotion building. newcomers of the club deeply look up to him, as the most passionate member of the club where all the roles he’s taken on has made his heart soar above the clouds.

- one of the volunteers who helped in producing the script for the upcoming play the club is putting together. he advances in dramatising the scripts if they’re too flat in tone or feeling, even adding the most unnecessary dialogues of french, which the majority of the cast doesn’t even know a lick of. though, he makes a vow to them to teach it until they’re all absolutely wasted to the point where practise wouldn’t even be going anywhere.

- works hand in hand with vil behind the stage, who helps to sew up suitable costumes and applying the makeup for the cast in the makeover studio.

YOUR DYNAMIC

- it’s utterly embarrassing—but he vocalises ALL his poems and thoughts about you that he recited back at his place to prepare for the public audience. by audience, I mean everyone at the cafeteria.

he sings all of the praises he’s been holding in since the day he made mere eye contact with you while standing on an occupied table, most likely taken by the misfits. he sees it as his own individual stage and seizes the opportunity in his hands. you’re dying to go hide in the nearest restroom.

- encourages you to audition for the latest play his club is planning, (secretly) wanting you to take up the role that jointly has a special form of relationship with his! he gives an overly joyful “that’s up to the judges!” when you ask him who would be playing the other role. how many times has he made you uneasy again? (you don’t want to admit that you do enjoy being with him.)

- he’ll make sure to schedule a period off to help you practise and perfect the script that was chosen for you in the empty auditorium. he eagerly savours the time he gets to hear you, your beautiful voice, out loud, like never ending music to his ears.

- aside from the dorms, he lives in a multimillion neighbourhood, and he would be ecstatic to bring you over to his place anytime. you’re slack-jawed the second you enter his home, a wealthy interior designed by specially chosen professionals just for his house. he drags you by the wrist to watch the latest musical that was released in the theater that his family chose to install.

- so—the set of people who were chosen for the roles are out? you’re glad, but rook is a leaping ball of sunshine when he takes a glance at the name list (as if he didn’t play a part in convincing the judges one way or another). he genuinely cannot wait to see you shining so brightly on stage, as he prepares a divine bouquet of roses he’s planning to give you once it’s all over to congratulate you for all the untiring effort you’ve put into this play.

SILVER AS

⤷ THE FLOATER !

- luckily for him, he wasn’t the type of student who garnered much attention after being transferred to the school. he’s received some greetings by those who actually mean it, but all in all is content with where he’s placed in for now.

- being a regular loner has him sitting outside on the unoccupied bench for him to eat his lunch. a simple but memorable ham and cheese sandwich which he remembers getting spoiled with from his caretaker since early childhood. he holds everything they do immensely close to his heart, thankful for having the utmost kindest person in the world to look after him. he’ll make sure to pay back for everything he’s indebted to when he’s older.

- with restless desires to grow familiar with the school grounds, he takes a small walk to the library and school store to send a salutation to riddle, the boy who’s in the same year as him and the shop’s very own Mr. S, a guy who’s devoted a ton of his life to this shop. silver thinks about how there’s so many sentimental people who wander this school, a little of the opposite of his stone-faced persona.

YOUR DYNAMIC

- he’ll admit, he was slightly taken aback when you fearlessly took a seat next to him on the bench when he wasn't on guard. he jumps a little, thinking there was a nearby predator who was ready to pounce on him any second. but no—it was another regular student who roams the school halls like any other. he’s never seen you before despite being the one who joined the school later—in fact, he’s never really been with a familiar face other than sebek.

- but you just smile and giggle at him when you notice his lost nature. ah, he felt a flare of life ignite in him with such unforeseen kindness being thrown at him. there’s no doubt he's going to be the slightest bit wary of you, but you take his uninterested course of actions as a yes and stay by him for the rest of the period.

- you don’t make voice the fact that it was you who carefully placed the bundle of flowers on his head when he fell asleep on the arm rest.

- after a few months of hushed whispers and note-sharing in the middle of class, he presents the idea for the both of you to own your own personal diary to journal your daily happenings. a secret note-taker, between two hearts that flicker with a hint of trust for the other.

you both enjoy reading what the other has written for the day, and silver hopes that he’ll be able to point out the tiniest bit of a confession you could’ve possibly written down somewhere for him, as much as how insensitive he is.

- while classes are out and people start to take their leave, you and silver are to stay back to dutifully complete your classroom cleaning before the next day of lessons. who knew such a mere task could put the both of you in a difficult situation? you both reach your hand out to grab the duster to wipe the board, only for your fingers to graze each other as a spark of electricity courses through your bodies, feeling warmer than ever.

- when you’re finally done, it coincidentally starts pouring out of the blue. with the both of you standing at the school entrance, silver strips off his cardigan and uses it to shelter you, holding your figure close as the both of you run in the rain like your lives depend on it. he wishes you didn’t have to arrive at a gazebo so soon, he still wanted to see you, in his clothes for as long as he wanted.

MALLEUS DRACONIA AS

⤷ THE (NOT SO) SECRET ADMIRER !

- often gets recognised for his godly visuals, though he doesn’t pay much mind to them? yes, he makes an effort to keep himself presentable as a wielder of royal blood, but he doesn't see all the craze over his face. his aloofness only makes people swoon over him even more.

- he’s rather quiet in these busy halls. he charmingly excuses the person who accidentally bumped into him head-first, proceeding with his walk until he arrives and stops in front of one particular locker. onlookers goggle absently, thinking about what he’s doing in front of another person’s locker? his is way further away than where he is, so what..?

- malleus sighs in contempt when the bell indicating the next lesson’s beginning rings.

- class is dismissed for lunch and stays glued to his seat as he pulls out an ancient history book to pick up where he left on. his table is uncluttered, and he places the well-researched tome on his desk as he starts reading through its contents once again. nobody is aware of his hidden yearning for a specific person to come running by, catching him in their view through the window, saying the most, honey-sweet “hello!” anyone could ever dream of.

YOUR DYNAMIC

- it’s not much of a secret admirer at this point, when it’s so glaringly obvious who it is. as if he was starring in a Hollywood film, glances at all directions in his way to make sure no one was present to disrupt this long-awaited momentum. once again, he stops by at your locker to open it and set down the letter, inside. one that was signed off with his initials as he positions an aromal rose just beside it.

- with the help of his relatives who are comfortable with internet devices—he’s able to search up the latest trends of deserts and lattes from the nearest coffee shop that’s located somewhere near. he’ll ask you if you’d like to journey with him into the city to a particular eatery that grasped his fancy, he assures you that he has the money, and he made sure to reserve a seat on the balcony as well.

- daily alone time with him in the music room as he gracefully plays the violin for you that only makes you swerve his lane even more. with the doors shut and the curtains closed—not fully as to block the outside light—the most euphonious tunes fill the dim lit room as pure gold spill over the strings. an individual performance he dedicated all and just for you.

- when the end of the school year is near, he readies himself to confess to you with all his body and soul. he takes it upon himself to call up a meeting with you outside of school in the evening, just when the glorious sun starts to set.

he talks his promise, rubbing your deathly cold hands in his, and voices his words of honour to make you the most fortunate person alive to be with him. who could ever ask for a better confession?

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yourheart-inmyhands · 1 month

Note

Hey! I was wondering if you could do Headcannons for how the Harbingers (Separately) would handle a reader who gets overwhelmed after being around crowds all day and wants physical contact to recharge. Oddly specific but if you feel comfy writing thus I'd love to see it!

this one was interesting to think about so I did only two harbingers for now but you're free to swing back around and request others as well :D i tried to pick two on opposite ends of the scale to show the difference between them, i hope you enjoy!

Warning: This post contains yandere-themes, including obsessive behavior, relationship neglect, Dottore being an ass, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Pantalone:

Your best bet is Pantalone, as he’s the most understanding and affectionate amongst the Harbingers. This isn’t to say he’s an absolute doll, but that he’d be the most accommodating. He understands that not everyone is made for crowds and parties and the large events he typically attends, which is why he always extends the offer for you to simply sit them out.

That’s not to say he doesn’t want you to accompany him, because there’s no one he’d prefer by his side, but he knows that you don’t do well amongst others. If you do choose to go though, he is more than happy to oblige in your need for comfort. Whether there is a ride back or merely a walk back to your shared quarters, you can expect him to be touching you in some way.

It could be a hand holding yours as you walk down the halls back to your bedroom, it could be holding you close to his side on the carriage ride back to the palace, it might even extend to him pulling you into a secluded corner and smothering your face in feather light kisses before re-entering the party crowd.

Regardless, Pantalone is the easiest and best to ask for comfort from, his job is one of the more stressful ones amongst the other Harbingers and he’s always more than happy to allow himself some relaxation time with you.

Dottore:

While Pantalone is the best, Dottore is on the opposite end of the spectrum. This man is too busy chatting up elites for more funding to really pay any mind to your growing unrest. If you try to talk about it beforehand he’ll simply insist you stay, rather than be a burden to him. Should you refuse to back down and go regardless, he’ll brush off any requests you make of him for affection or to leave.

If the event is taking place in the Palace, he’ll simply tell you to wait outside in the hallway and send one of his segments to collect you. If it’s away from the Palace, he’ll tell you to either suck it up or go sit in the carriage and wait for him there.

When the event inevitably ends and he is no longer preoccupied with kissing the ass of those around him, you can still expect to be largely ignored. This man is a genius scientist who is always in the middle of a huge breakthrough! Do you really expect him to drop everything to cuddle up to you because you’re too soft? If you can’t wait for him to become so sleep-deprived that he finally gives in and crawls into bed, which can take days unfortunately, then you’ll just have to make do with being comforted by one of his segments.

It’s happened enough that his segments have come to know you personally. And while they are technically still Dottore, they’re merely fragments of him that have grown into their own partial beings. The comfort they provide doesn’t extend much beyond the physical aspect, but there’s a small bit of comfort in knowing that they’re here for you. That someone is willing to give up their time to be by your side.

#genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin x male reader #dottore x reader #dottore x male reader #yandere dottore x reader #yandere dottore x male reader #pantalone x reader #pantalone x male reader #yandere pantalone x reader #yandere pantalone x male reader #yandere genshin #yandere dottore #yandere pantalone

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lesservillain · 5 months

Text

alpha!steve harrington x omega!reader

cw: omegaverse dynamics, knotting, bonding/marking, breeding kink, unprotected piv, semi public, mutual pining

wc:~5.7k

Music plays at a low hum from the small radio at your desk. The only station that comes in clear has been taken over by Christmas music since Thanksgiving break. Not even Wham!’’s Last Christmas was giving the same sense of relief after hearing it every day for almost a month now.

Despite the winter wonderland outside, you still seek out the coolness of your water bottle against your skin, the chill helping to ease the flush that’s been making you sweat like it was mid July in Texas. You’d even cracked the window behind your desk in hopes that the fallen snow would help with your elevated body temperature. But you knew that all of your efforts were for nothing. That no matter how cold you made it, there was really only one thing that would actually be able to ease the discomfort that you felt spreading under your skin; the burden of being an omega in this world.

Ever since you split with your ex this past spring you’ve been having to deal with your heats on your own. It's not impossible for an omega to go through heats without an alpha to ease the pain, but when you go cold turkey after years of having someone there to satisfy the overwhelming biological need to mate, it can take a huge toll on any omega.

Science has made leaps and bounds over the last 20 years to improve suppressants for both alphas and omegas. They’re not perfect by any means, but they’re better than dealing with the intense urges that you feel when that time of the month comes.

The current suppressants you're taking are…experimental. Mixed with a birth control that’s supposed to be able to stop even the swimmers of an alpha in rut from reaching an egg of an omega they’ve marked. They were suggested by your doctor as a preventative, since omegas after losing their long alpha tend to subconsciously scent to seek out a replacement.

And they worked really well the first few months, not having a heat for nearly half a year. But the added stress of moving to a new town on your own and starting a new job where you were constantly playing catch up after inheriting a mess from the school’s previous nurse, your heat came back full swing within the first month of the school year. The dizziness, increased appetite, a dull ache in your lower back, and hot flashes put you out for three days before you could get a suppressant strong enough to make you functional again.

Now you’re having your winter heat, which, so far, has been much tamer by comparison thanks to the increased dose of your medication. But the combination of your heat with the influx of students seeing you due to peak flu and strep season, your body has been practically screaming at you by the end of each day this week to go home and relax.

The sudden overzealous opening of your office door takes your attention off your sweltering body. The all too familiar voice of Mr. Harrington calls out “Helloooo, nurse!” as he occupies the space in the doorway.

Steve Harrington was one of the school’s sophomore history teachers, as well as the football and basketball coach and the leader of the Student Achievement program. All of the staff, and probably some of the students, swoon over him at any given moment, his presence never missed due to the air that surrounds him. Unfortunately you’re not immune to his charms either. In fact, the natural attraction between the two of you was palpable at times, regardless of how much you try to ignore it.

Steve could feel it, too. And maybe it was the way his alpha brain was wired, but his flirty personality is jacked up to 10 whenever you’re around. It’s not on purpose, at least not in a conscious way. His amazing hair, the way his clothes hugged his toned body, and his almost unnaturally handsome face made him the poster child for the perfect alpha partner.

Well, perfect except for the fact that he’s the clumsiest man you’ve ever met in your life, leaving your office at least once a week with a Strawberry Shortcake bandaid after giving himself a paper cut or an ice pack on his head when a ball hits him in the face.

Despite his accident-prone nature, Steve is a highly desired, single alpha in his prime. And with you being the only unclaimed adult omega in the building, it’s put a huge target on your back for your jealous coworkers who think they have a shot with him. To remedy this, you’ve maintained a firm level of professionalism and platonic friendliness at all times with him, despite his flirty personality testing your willpower.

His intoxicating scent invades your senses sending a wave of warmth to wash over you before you can even give him a quick glance. You pull at the collar of your blouse willing the air to cool down your shirt. “You feeling okay there, nurse? You look a little flushed. Or are you just that happy to see me?”

“Mr.Harrington,” you say flatly, following with teasing sarcasm as you continue looking over your paperwork, “I was starting to worry you weren’t going to see me this week. Thought you’d finally broken your streak of bad luck.” He lets out an airy chuckle that makes the sides of your lips threaten to curl.

“Oh, honey, you know I can’t stay away from you.” He means it. He would fake appendicitis if it gave him a greater chance to be doted on by you. To get closer to you. “I would have been in here sooner if I hadn’t been glued to my desk all week getting grades in before break,” he says, voicing his grievances that were the result of his own negligence.

“I see,” you hum, continuing with the sarcastic tone. “I guess I won’t have to replenish my box of bandaids just yet.”

“Weelll,” he draws out, “All that sitting time must have built up my bad luck, because, uh, I think this one may need more than just a bandaid.”

When you finally lift your eyes from your desk, they almost bulge out of their sockets at the sight of him. Where you initially thought his arms were just crossed, you see his right hand is actually covering his left bicep, blood staining down the sleeve of his light and navy blue striped dress shirt. The lack of urgency in his tone had you thinking nothing was wrong, but of course Steve Harrington would find the time to flirt with you while he’s bleeding.

Tossing your water bottle on the desk and jumping up from your seat, you practically fly across the room to assess the damage, pulling his hand away to find a tear in the sleeve and blood spread messily on his skin underneath.

“Oh my goodness, what happened?” You ask with concern, pulling him into the office by the hand and leading him to a cot, shutting the door behind you.

“Mrs.Harmon asked if I could stay and help set up stuff around the auditorium for the choir performance tonight,” he explained as you pulled at the material of his sleeve, trying and failing and get a better look at the wound, “and I accidentally knocked a shelf off the wall while trying to get the decorations out. I moved fast enough that it didn’t crush me, but it did knick me a little.”

“A little! Mr.Harrington—” you start with a stern tone, preparing your normal lecture to him about being safe.

“Steve,” he corrects with a smug grin, insisting that you call him by his first name since you’ve met.

“Mr.Harrington,” you repeat like a warning, trying to remain professional when he’s so close to you. It’s hard when he’s staring at your face with those big hazel eyes as he watches your face scrunch in frustration while you fiddle with his shirt. A shirt that’s straining to stay together around his large bicep, leaving no give for you to get a better look at his wound.

Losing your will to argue with him, your hands rest to your hips with a sigh. “Can you, just, slip your arm out of the sleeve, please?”

“Of course,” he says with faux seriousness as you can see his all too satisfied smile, rolling your eyes at him.

Turning on your heel, you walk a few feet to grab the things from the supply cabinet to treat his wound. Your back is turned to him as you fill your arms with gauze, tape, cotton balls, and anything else you may need for a cut that large.

“You know, you’re probably the clumsiest alpha I’ve ever met,” you tease as you turn to face him again, “Sometimes I think you get hurt on purpose just to see m—“

The rest of your remark dies on your tongue as your mouth goes dry. Taking liberties with your request, you watch Mr.Harrington completely remove his shirt, dropping it on the cot behind him and facing you once more. The white under tank he’s wearing leaves little to the imagination as it hugs his broad chest tightly, thinning the material and making it almost see through. His skin still has the last lingering tint of the tan he was sporting on the first day of school, and different sized freckles and moles decorate his body like constellations in the sky. You’ve never seen so much of him all at once, head feeling fuzzy as you drink him in.

“I think you might be drooling a bit there, Ms. Nurse,” he says pointing to the corner of his own mouth to further his teasing. But you can barely hear him, the words muffled as your ears start to ring and your vision tilts as if you’d been drinking. The boil you’d been dealing with all day felt like a slight shimmer as your fever suddenly spikes, your body on fire as the scent coming from his newly exposed skin has you reeling.

The supplies you’re holding dropped to the floor, freeing your hands to grasp at the counter behind you. Steve rushes to your side, wrapping an arm around you and easing you to the ground. He barely makes it without dropping to his knees himself, the smell of your pheromones hitting him like a brick.

“H-hey, what do you need,” you hear him ask, but you can hardly register the words as his scent in close proximity only spurs your heat on more. Even with your clothes covering your skin, the touch of his hand on your waist and the one he’s rested on your knee make you crave more of him in a carnal way, the urgent need to close the gap between the two of you has your body shifting until you’re on your knees and crawling towards him.

His hands hover in the air, slightly trembling as you lean into him. He falls back on his ass as you get closer until you’re practically laying on him, rubbing against him with your face like a cat. “I need you, Steve,” you purr. He takes a sharp breath in through gritted teeth as your hand drifts lower, lower, until your fingers land on the very prominent bulge straining against his deep blue slacks. “Shit,” his head snaps back at the contact, before dropping back down to look at you with hungry eyes.

“What happened to keeping it professional?” He tries to joke, unsure if this is all just a test from the universe to see how he would react to having his nightly fantasies come true. And while Steve may be resilient in many ways, he wasn’t sure if he could hold back with the way you’re looking up at him through your lashes as if he’d hung the moon and the stars. The scent of his musk permeates the room as he gives into your needs, his desires, letting the primal urges he’s been pushing down since the day he met you front in his mind.

If you were in a different state of mind you probably would have laughed at his comment. But the intense ache that bloomed between your legs as all your senses start to leave your body has you whimpering against his chest.

Strong arms scoop you up swiftly, tossing you down on the cot and pulling the privacy curtain behind him. In the split second he was away from you, you managed to grab his discarded shirt and pull it to your nose, inhaling his lingering scent. It was like a drug that you couldn’t get enough of, your thighs rubbing together and hips moving against air as your body seeks out any kind of relief for the ache.

Suddenly, the shirt is torn from your grasp roughly. You cry out, hands reaching out aimlessly before they’re being grasped tightly around the wrists and pinned to the bed. The cot dips as a weight wedges its way between your legs, pressing against your core in a way that has you instantly bucking against it with reckless abandon, your clouded mind only thinking about satisfying the throb in your core.

“God, look at the mess you’re making on my thigh already,” Steve says with a low growl, watching you use him in a pathetic attempt to relieve yourself. The grit in his voice hits every nerve in your body on its way from your ear drums to your cunt.

“You smell so fucking sweet,” he groans as he brings your wrist to his nose and inhales, “Like vanilla or honey, o-or something better,” he stammers. He leans over you, hot tongue licking a thick stripe from your collar bone to behind your ear, lightly biting the lobe and pulling, goosebumps rising on your skin. His hair is just as soft as you imagined it would be as it tickles your cheek, a sharp contrast to the way his teeth bite at your neck, his tongue soothing over the skin.

You press your cheek into him, whining his name right into his ear, practically begging him to put you out of your misery. He releases one of your hands to grab your face, lips pursing together, making you look him in the eyes. His pupils fully blown out and close enough that you can see your own fucked out reflection in them.

“Listen to me,” he says, swallowing, eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips. “I’ve been wanting to do this for five fucking months. Five long months of fucking my fist to the thought of getting you under me just like this, making you a mess and having you beg for me.” He takes a deep breath through his nose, nostrils flaring as the last bit of his resolve begins to waver. “So if we do this, you’re mine from now on, got it? No more of this back and forth, pretending you don’t want me as much as I want you bullshit. Once I start…I’m not going to be able to stop. Do you understand?”

There’s no hesitation with how quickly you try to nod your head against his grip. The heat coming off of your cheeks warms the tips of his fingers. “Nuh-uh,” he tuts, giving you a little shake, “Need to hear it. Tell me you want this.”

“Want you, Steve. Need you. Need your cock, please, please please.”

He curses under his breath before his lips crash into yours. The kiss is hot and heavy right off the bat as teeth clash and tongues dance together in desperation. Your free hand finds its way into his perfect hair, pulling slightly at the nape, eliciting a moan from him that you catch as it leaves his lips.

Steve pulls away from you with a wild look in his eyes. Both of his strong hands release their hold on you so that he could rip open the front of your blouse, sending buttons flying and hitting the floor with a clatter. His mouth is back on you, nipping and biting the skin while his hands pull your tits free from the cups of your bra.

Mouth moving at lightning speed, he hungrily takes one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and tonguing the bud while needing at your other breast with his hand. His eyes are glassy when they look up at you, half lidded and unfocused, drool dribbles down your breast from his mouth.

Everything next happens so quickly you can barely register it. Steve pulls away from you completely, standing up fully to rip your pants down your legs. Once he throws them to the floor, he’s making quick movements to undo his own pants, his right thigh drenched from the slick that had soaked through while grinding against him.

His cock is so hard that the pressure against the crotch of his pants has the zipper undoing itself once he frees the button. Wasting no time, he shucks down his slacks and boxers in one go, his large cock and heavy balls now on full display for you, the sight making your eyes widen in surprise—and maybe fear?

Alphas are known to be bigger than even a well endowed beta, and omegas are built to handle the size of an alpha’s better than a beta can, but the size of the Steve’s cock less than a foot from your face has you mesmerized at the sheer size of it. But while your mind may be in shock, your pussy has a mind of its own, slick dripping in anticipation for the stretch you’d be receiving. Even in his large hands it looked massive, bigger than any alpha you’d been with before.

You sit up in the bed slightly, reaching out to take him in your hand, your fingers barely able to wrap around him as you stroke the angry red tip. He curses under his breath as you let your hand roll over the tip, feeling the veins against the skin of your palm with each stroke.

A little bead of precum bubbles at the tip and something in your mind snaps. Your mouth is on him in an instant, any sense you may have had left is completely gone out the window when that salty taste hits your tongue.

“Fuck, look at you,” he cooes, followed by a guttural moan at the sight of you trying to take as much of him in your mouth as you can. “Such a good girl. Trying your best to take me in that pretty little mouth of yours, huh?” His words egg you as you continue to suckle at his tip, lapping up any of his spend that leaks out as you keep pumping at his shaft.

You want to keep going, want to be good for him, but ache between your legs is becoming unbearable the longer you go on. Slick is slipping down your thighs, a puddling forming under you on the sheets as your body involuntarily preps itself to take Steve’s massive cock. You look up at him with teary eyes, lifting your ass in the air as a silent plea for him to take you like the bitch in heat that you are.

And as much as he’s loving watching you pitifully mouth his cock, seeing you present yourself for him turns off the evolved parts of his brain, leaving him to run on primal instincts only.

Grabbing you by the throat, he manhandles you onto your back and positions you so your ass on the edge of the cot. Your legs fall to the sides, opening as wide as you can get them, pussy on full display and ready to be taken.

“Hoooooo, fuck,” Steve shudders, licking his lips at the sight of your dripping cunt, hole clenching around nothing, begging for him to fill it up. He runs his fingers through your folds to collect some of your arousal, barely brushing over your throbbing clit. He brings his fingers to his mouth, shoulders slumping in satisfaction.

“Damnit, of course you taste sweet, too. Can’t wait til I can get you in my mouth,” he says with a slight slur.

You panic for a moment, unsure if you could wait any longer for him to finally be inside you. As if he can read you like a book, he lets out a soft chuckle, taking his cock in his hand and pumping it slowly. “Don’t you worry, baby girl, I’m not gonna keep you waiting any more. Next time, though…”

The sticky tip of his cock taps your clit, sending shock waves throughout your body with every touch. It’s too much and not enough all at once. His name falls from your lips, and he shushes you in return, lining himself up with your entrance.

The breach of his tip stretching you wide is like a shot of morphine in an IV drip, your body becoming numb and a live wire at the same time, replacing the pain with a fuzzy haze all over.

Steve watches the way your face contorts with pleasure as hips rock back and forth slowly. His teeth bite down on his bottom lip, trying his hardest to hold back so you can get used to his size, but the vice grip you have on his cock has him quickly losing his resolve. Body falling over you, he brackets your head between his forearms as he finally folds. His breath fanning over your face has your eyes fluttering open. Met with the most divine visual of Steve’s pinched brow, scrunched up nose, and slack jaw fill your vision entirely. Your breath is punched from your lungs as he makes that final thrust, bottoming out inside of you with a shuddered whimper.

“Oh, my god,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in closer. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, rubbing his face against your skin, marking you with his scent. He begins to move, setting a pace that makes every thrust feel like heaven, the tightness of your walls amplifying every ridge and bump of his cock as it drags back and forth. “Fuck, Steve, you’re so big,” you whine, “Never felt so full be-fore!” The last syllable comes out as a gasp as he thrusts into you hard, spurred on by your words.

His arms wrap around you tightly, laying all of his upper body weight against you to pin you in place so he can fuck into mercilessly. The feeling is mind melting, nonsense words mixed with repeating his name over and over fall from your mouth with each punch of his cock against your cervix. Each thrust hits that spot inside of you dead on, throttling you towards the edge quicker than your mind can handle in your current fucked out state.

“Fuuuuck,” Steve’s voice is strained next to your ear, thrusts slowing as you “Don’t squeeze so tight, baby, I don’t wanna cum yet.”

His words have the opposite effect on you as your whole body trembles beneath him, cumming so hard his cock your vision goes white. Your chest presses into his as your back arches off the mattress, the skin to skin friction against your hardened nipples stimulating you more as he fucks you through your high.

He lifts his head to watch you come undone with a wide eyed, feral look. He’s panting, too, with a string of saliva from his tongue to the skin of your shoulder where he had latched on, the skin red and already speckling with broken blood vessels.

“You’re so pretty when you cum on my cock like that,” he says with heavy breaths, “Wanna see you do it again, and again, and again,” he babbles, leaning in to trail kisses along your jaw, continuing to thrust into you harder and harder, in his own world now. You can only cling to him as he ruts into you, nails scratching down his back. “Gonna fuck you over and over and over until it takes. Big, round belly on full display for everyone to see. You gonna tell everyone Mr.Harrington got you pregnant when you can’t hide it anymore? What will all the other teachers think?”

“Fuck, Steve, please.”

“What is it, baby? Tell me what you want.”

“Want it, Steve. Want your knot.”

“Oh, is that right?”

Suddenly, he pulls away and out of you completely. It’s such a shock to the system you can help but cry out at the loss of him. But the vacancy doesn’t last long, his strong arms lifting and flipping you with ease until you’re face down into the mattress, ass being propped up on shaky legs so he can bottom out in you once more.

This new angle changed everything. A wanton moan feels like it was being pushed out of you as it felt like his cock was in your lungs. One hand grabs a hold of your hip while the other pushes down on the back of your neck, effectively pinning you down so he can pick back up his brutal pace. There was no rhythm to his thrusts, driven purely on animalistic instincts as he chases his own pleasure, using you as a means to get him there.

“You want my knot, huh?” The question is rhetorical, said in the heat of the moment as he feels his peak nearing. “Want me to give you my knot and really knock you up? I’ll ruin you for any other alphas that think they have a chance. Cause you’re mine now, aren’t you, sweet girl? No other alpha’s gonnna fuck you like I can, right?”

“No-no, Steve! Don’t want anyone else! Only want your knot! Please, please!” Your eyes lull as he fucks you stupid, mouth parted open as you drool onto the sheets.

His weight shifts, trailing kisses down your back until he gets to that spot on the back of your neck. A chill runs down your spine as his teeth scrape against the skin over your scent gland. “Well, if that’s the case…Guess you wouldn’t mind if I held you to that, right?”

The primal part of your brain is screaming for him to do it; mark you and make you his, permanently. The logical side fights for dominance, reminding you that you never wanted to be owned by an alpha, which is why you and your ex broke up in the first place. But the way he was making you feel right now had you second guessing all your morals. He hums over you, lips lingering against your skin as he speaks.

Before you could answer, his hips were stilling inside you, the base of his cock swelling as he pumped you full with his spend. It would have been painful if it didn’t trigger the release of oxytocin in your body, making you cum with him. Your legs start to give out, but his hold on you tightens as his spend continues to spill into you., the His body shakes above you, chest heaving as tries to catch his breath.

The two of you take a moment to come down from your highs. The air around you feels electric as the two of you become one, his knot settling within your walls snuggly, the steady stream of Steve’s cum filling you to the brim until you couldn’t possibly take anymore. He rests his head over your scent gland, rubbing his face against it out of comfort while you still emit that sweet, sweet smell.

Everything feels right in the moment, until it’s interrupted by a knock and an intruding aroma. To you, it smells like smokey wood and cinnamon, but to Steve, it’s a threat. The smell of another alpha trying to get near his omega and claim her over him. You can feel his body tense up, breathing picking up in a panic, lips pressing against the skin as his mind races.

“Steve?” You say his name meekly. There’s a short pause between you, a split second before you feel it, his teeth clamping down on your skin. It’s like every nerve in your body lights up all at once. The sensation is powerful it makes you cum again, clamping down on Steve’s still hard cock buried inside of you. The moan he lets out against you is pornographic, teeth still clinging to your skin tightly as his saliva mixes with your body’s natural scent.

“Hey, everything okay in there?” The muffled voice calls from the other side of the door.

“Get the fuck out of here, Eddie!” Steve yells out to the janitor, another alpha that you’d seen in passing, pinching your skin as he does his best to keep his teeth on you. It’s quiet for a moment, and you think that Eddie left until you hear a loud, booming laugh, and a faint “About damn time!” as the new smell starts to dissipate.

Steven feels your body jolt slightly beneath him and refocuses his attention on you. You do it again with an audible snort. At first he thinks you might be crying, guilt creeping in as he’s realized what he’s done to you. But as you get louder, it’s clear that you are actually laughing.

“Was tho funneh?” He asks, drooling down onto your back.

“I don’t know,” you say through fits of giggles. “I think I’m losing my mind.”

“Thounds like et,” he says, laughing along with you.

“Sorry, I just…wasn’t expecting any of this.” Your body shifts under him, growing uncomfortable in the position you were in. Steve senses this, releasing your skin and licking your wounds so that, with careful maneuvering, he’s able to get both of you comfortably on your sides. He wraps his arms and legs around you, holding you close to his strong chest, eyeing his handiwork of his mark as you rest your head on his arm.

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for,” he says softly, kissing the back of your head. “If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me. I took things too far…But if I’m going to be honest with you, I don’t regret it.”

It could be the residual high from your heat, or the change in your brain chemistry from his mark, or just the fact that you’ve been pushing down how much you really wanted this with him from the moment your hands touched when you both went for the same bagel at the first staff meeting over the summer, but you couldn’t deny that you didn’t regret it either.

For so long you’ve been in denial, trying to ignore that he was the reason your suppressants stopped working because you wanted him so badly that your body was rejecting them when he was around. Denying how happy you get when he brings you coffee in the morning, or how much you look forward to when he sits with you during his lunch period to talk about whatever shenanigans his multitude of friends get into, or how the whole reason you started this heat was because he let you sit in the passenger seat of his BMW while he jumped your car after work on Tuesday, the inside smelling so overwhelmingly like him that you had to jump out and rush straight to your car before you ended up jumping him in the middle of the parking lot.

“Steve?” You request his attention just above a whisper, breaking the silence between you. He hums quizzically, resting his cheek against yours. “Did you really need to grade papers this week, or have you been avoiding me this week because you knew I was going through a heat?”

His cheek vibrates against yours as he chuckles from his throat. “You’re so smart, you know that, right?” He kisses your cheek before settling back with his head on the pillow, forehead resting against the back of your head.

As the two of you lay there you ask him a million questions, picking his brain to its fullest extent with this new closeness the two of you share. Really, you just like the sound of his voice, but he does say a few things here and there that make you belly laugh.

“Don’t do that,” he laughs along with you, “We’re never going to come undone if you keep squeezing me like that!”

“I can’t help it,” you wipe a tear from your eye, trying your hardest to suppress your giggles.

Thirty minutes pass and Steve’s knot finally goes down enough that he can pull out of you. It feels like a part of you is missing now that he’s no longer occupying you after so long. Hot, sticky cum pours from you like a storm drain onto the sheet below. With a sigh, you make a mental note to add new sheets on your list of things to replace, right under a new box of bandaids.

Oh, shit. Steve’s arm.

As he starts to gather the discarded clothes on the floor, you see that that blood has dried up and mostly rubbed off after everything. After the two of you redress, you wearing Steve’s button up after he made your blouse no longer wearable, not that you were complaining as the need to nest was starting to kick in, you cared for his wound. Just a cut left behind that would be okay with a little disinfecting and a few steristrips.

“You forgot the most important part,” he says with a shake of his head as you place the last strip on his arm. You tilt your head at him in confusion, a smile forming on his face as he looks at you with a sparkle in his eyes. “Aren’t you gonna kiss it better?”

#steve harrington #alpha!steve harrington #alpha!steve harrington x omega!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fan fic #steve harrington stranger things #teacher!steve harrington #teacher!steve harrington x nurse!reader

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dreaming-medium · 7 months

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Bad Day - Bang Chan Drabble

Summary: Reader has a terrible day; one of those days where everything goes wrong. Luckily, her boyfriend is there to wipe the stress away with some well deserved hugs.

Word Count: 2.2k

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Punch after punch after punch after punch lands on your soul today. Every single time you turned around, another horrible situation would present itself.

You’ve been sick for two and half weeks now. The sore throat would come and go, but you weren’t able to sleep without propping two pillows under your head. This morning when you woke up, your voice was completely gone.

The empty space next to you in bed certainly doesn’t help either. Chan has been gone for a work trip for two weeks now. He wasn’t due home for another two more.

Work has been its own animal to take care of. It was your first job after graduating, so you were at the bottom of the totem pole. Each higher up suddenly felt the need to burden you with any difficult projects they didn’t feel like taking care of themselves.

“I don’t think this is something I was trained on,” you tried to say to one of the more older workers. The huge stack of papers was so heavy in your hands. “These calculations would take me—“

“Just do it, Y/N,” he said before closing the door to the conference room you were standing alone in.

You had just watched that coworker’s boss tell him to do it. But nope, he dumped it on you.

On top of that, you were also tasked with training the new guy even though you’ve only been here for nine months.

And this guy made it his personal mission to make your job even harder. The way he would go from not knowing anything to being a complete know-it-all within two sentences made your blood boil.

But it’s fine. It’s totally fine, you can handle this.

Then, someone ate your lunch out of the fridge even though your name was clearly written on it. Your lunch break was so short that there was no way you could run out to get something else.

It was raining so hard as you jogged to your car through the parking lot. Every spot in the parking garage was taken this morning so you had to use the satellite lot ten minutes away.

Your clothes were drenched by the time you got into your car and slammed the door shut.

Fumbling with the keys, you shoved them into the ignition and started your car. The heat immediately kicked on and you sat there for an extra couple of minutes, warming your frozen fingers in front of the vents.

A book from one of your favorite authors came out today. You were going to pass the store on your way home, why not stop and buy a copy? It certainly would help with the day you were having.

The drive to the store was silent. You didn’t even turn the radio on. If you’re being honest, you didn’t think you could handle sound.

People were everywhere in the bookstore.

You walked in and looked around for the new book. There were signs and posters everywhere that announced the book. Where was it?

“If you’re looking for the new Kingdom book we sold out this morning.” A worker says to you softly.

A small part of you dies.

You politely nod to the worker and leave.

It’s ridiculous how you feel the tears building behind your eyes.

It’s fine. It’s fine. You’re overreacting. It’s totally fine. You’ll just buy a copy on your Kindle. You didn’t even need a physical copy, right?

Your fingers fumble with your keys and you drop onto the ground. They splash right into a puddle.

It’s fine, it’s fine.

Swallowing painfully, you wince at your sore throat and gather your things to get back in the car.

You’ll go home and watch TV.

“It’s Friday,” you whisper to yourself in the car to try and calm down. “It’s treat day, why not stop for a coffee?”

Every Friday you would buy yourself a coffee. ‘Treat Day’ is what you dubbed it as. It slowly became a tradition with you and your friends.

Chan used to always reload your coffee rewards app with his own money without telling you.

A sad smile tugs at your face while you drive to the coffee shop. God, what you wouldn’t give to see him right now.

The tension in your shoulders is so bad you think your shoulders are level with your ears.

After getting your coffee, you drive all the way home to your apartment complex.

Right before you turn into the lot, a car decides to come out of nowhere and cuts you off. You cut the wheel and slam on the brakes to avoid them.

Your coffee launches out of the cup holder and spills all over your lap.

“Fuck!” You curse and try to focus on the road. “Fuck fuck!”

At least it was iced coffee and you’re not burned. Right? Silver lining?

You’re at your limit. Your sanity is teetering.

Parking in your designated spot, you trudge into the large building.

The weight of the day still sits so heavy on your shoulders. Now your lap was soaked with coffee.

A package sits underneath the complex’s mailboxes. It’s ruined and crushed. The ‘FRAGILE’ sticker is gnarled up.

“No,” you sigh and look closer at it.

Yep, it’s yours. The new dishwear set you ordered came in.

When you lift the package you hear all the pieces shift around. It’s just a box of broken ceramic at this point.

Tighter and tighter your throat gets.

Slowly, you trudge up to your floor. Because, of course, the elevator is broken. Of course it is. Why would the elevator work today?

Just as you get your keys out to open your door, your shitty neighbor comes outside.

“Oh god, Y/N, you look horrible.” He says loudly.

You turn and look at him with tears already brimming in your eyes.

No sign of compassion crosses his face, instead, he laughs. He laughs right in your fucking face.

“No wonder I haven’t seen Chan around. He finally came to his senses, eh?”

Your jaw drops open.

“God, pull yourself together.”

Your neighbor picks up his newspaper from the doormat and goes back into his unit without another word.

For a long moment, you just stand there. Your clothes and hair still soaking wet and clinging to your skin, work bag and purse slung over your shoulder, box of broken plates and bowls in your arms.

Inside your body, you felt yourself finally snap. You felt your anger and frustration hit it’s limit.

Your look of surprise quickly morphs into one of seething rage. Lips pulling in a sneer, you rip open your door and stomp inside, slamming it shut behind you.

Dropping everything you own at the door, including the box of glass, you let out a muffled scream.

The box bursts open and glass shards go everywhere. They skitter across the floor and cover the wood in a dangerous mine field.

A moment of silence passes.

You lose it.

You drop to your knees and cradle your face while angry, hot tears stream down your cheeks.

Wails leave your lips as the weight of the day finally takes it’s toll.

On any normal day, you would be able to handle these things individually, but all at once? You just couldn’t deal with it anymore.

“Y/N?!” A voice calls out from the other end of the hallway.

Your head snaps up and you see your boyfriend standing there with a look of horror on his face.

“Chan,” you croak out.

His eyes frantically look around at the scene in front of him. Your disgruntled state surrounded by broken glass.

He’s here? He’s back?

“Y/N, are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt?”

He tries to walk closer but then he realizes he’s also surrounded by broken glass.

“Chan.” Is all your able to say again before the sobs come out even harder. Your entire body wracks with them, chest sputtering as you try to breathe between cries.

His face twists up in anguish.

“S-Stay there! Don’t move, I’m gunna get a dust pan, okay? I’ll be right back, babygirl. Don’t move.”

He continues to say things over and over to you while running to get what he needs.

“I’m here, baby. You’re okay, right? You’re home and safe, Y/N.”

You bury your face in your hands again and continue to cry. His words reach you, but they do nothing to quell the emotions.

Before you could fall further into this headspace, two warm, strong arms wrap around you and pull you into an even warmer body.

“I’m right here, honey, I’m here. You’re okay.” Chan whispers into your hair. He pulls you onto his lap and holds you close.

His comforting scent envelops you everywhere.

Chan rocks back and forth while holding you.

“You’re okay,” he says over and over into your hair. “You’re home now, I’m here, Channie’s here.”

Your face buried into his shoulder, hands gripping his shirt tightly

“What happened, baby?” He asks gently.

You cry harder.

“I’m so sick,” you cry into his shirt. “People keep taking advantage of me at work, I had to park ten minutes away in the rain. Someone ate my lunch. I dropped my keys in a puddle, the new book sold out, I spilled my coffee everywhere. Then fucking 304 across the hall tells me how horrible I look.”

You motion outwards at the glass all over the floor still. “And how do you like our new dishes?”

Even in the middle of a mental breakdown, you still crack a joke.

Saying it all makes you cry even harder. At this point, Chan’s shirt is soaked with your tears.

He continues to hold you as tight as he could. Not once does he tell you to stop crying, instead he carefully scoots and leans against the wall, cradling your body on his lap.

Chan rocks back and forth, pressing kisses into the crown of your hair as you cry your heart out.

His one hand rubs slow circles on your back while the other pets the back of your hair.

Low hums come from his throat. Chan lays his cheek on top of your head and keeps you close to his chest.

“It’s okay, babygirl,” he coos. “You’re home now. You’re with me now.”

“Thank god you’re home,” you hiccup and clutch his shirt closer to you.

“My spidey-senses were tingling,” he jokes in a hushed tone.

You manage to chuckle through your tears.

“My babygirl needed me.”

You’ve always been so happy go lucky, the glass was always half full with you. You always looked on the bright side of everything. If anything bad happened, it always just rolled off your back.

It was one of the main reasons he fell for you.

Chan has never seen you as bad as you were on your knees in the entryway, it shook him to his core.

Another long kiss is pressed to your head.

Slowly, your sobs calm down. Your throat still hoarse and sore from before has only gotten marginally worse.

Sniffling, you sit up away from Chan.

“‘M sorry I got your shirt all gross.”

Chan laughs in spite of everything. Both of his strong hands cup your cheeks for you to look him in the eye.

His chin dips down to your level so he can stare right at you. Those gorgeous brown eyes sparkle at you.

“I’m not upset about my shirt, Y/N,” he says gently. “I’m only worried about my sunshine. It’s not every day you cry, baby.”

“Everything just happened at once.” Chan’s thumbs wipe away the tears on your cheeks. “I tried to keep it together but our neighbor verbally berating me was the straw that broke the camel’s back.”

Chan tuts and brushes your hair behind your ear.

“Let’s throw eggs at his door,” he jokes.

He pulls a laugh from you.

“There’s my favorite smile.” He coos. It makes your smile even brighter. You sniffle again, and look down sheepishly.

Chan lifts your chin up with his thumb and forefinger. “Hey baby,” he grabs your attention. “How about this: you go shower off the day, I’m going to clean all this up and order our favorite takeout for dinner. I even stopped on my way home and got two pints of ice cream before.”

“Mint chocolate chip?” You ask softly.

“Of course I got your nasty toothpaste ice cream.” He pinches your cheek teasingly.

You giggle and lean away from his hand.

“Come on, babygirl.”

Before he does anything else, Chan leans forward and presses a long, warm kiss to your forehead.

Both of your eyes close at the comforting feeling it brings. After he kisses your forehead, Chan leans down and kisses both of your cheeks.

His warm lips then press to your nose and then finally to your lips.

It’s a long, sensual, loving kiss. Both of your mouths slipping over one another in a dance.

You sigh happily into the kiss. Chan’s mouth smiles against your own. It’s contagious, you can’t help but mirror the grin with our own.

In the end, you both look like smiling fools wrapped up in one another’s presence.

Chan scoops you up carefully and stands up from the floor, making sure to avoid any stray shards of glass.

“I’m going to take good care of you, my honey.” He coos and presses another kiss to your forehead. “Your bad day ends here.”

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #bang chan x y/n #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #soft bang chan

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seilahscopium · 9 months

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His personal break room

♡ I grant a wish for whoever summons me and take one thing as a payment ♡ 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Lyney ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Lyney, who’s been working much harder than usual. putting on performances much more frequently and spending all his time thinking of new tricks to please everyone. He was overworking himself because he’s forgotten to separate “Lyney” from “magician”. Lyney, who’s just absolutely exhausted from all these shows he’s been forcing himself to put on, and won't give himself a break. He doesn’t really have anywhere he can take a break and turn off the act when he gets like this. He may be able to hide it from everyone by applying makeup and wearing a fixed wide smile on his lips, but never ever could he hide it from you. You were always able to tell right when you looked into his eyes. As they say, the eyes are a window to one's soul. And lyney’s eyes were exhausted and in pain. Lyney, who drags his feet all the way to your house and his heart is jumping at the sight of you. You, who is the love of his life and didn't look at him as “Teyvat’s greatest magician” but just as himself. You're pulling him inside your home and taking care of him. First, he’s taking off his shoes, letting his feet get some air. Then, you're guiding him to your bathroom, a gentle grip on his hand. He was still getting used to allowing himself to be taken care of. This had only happened a handful of times in your relationship where you stepped in and coddled him (which he deserves). When Lyney followed you from behind to the bathroom, he thought about how he wasn't used to following people like this. It was usually the other way around, having all eyes on him during his shows or having his siblings chase after him since he was the leader. …with you, it wasn't like that. Sure, he would take you on dates and lead you around town. But it didn't really feel the same as when he led Lynette and Freminet around. He's now sitting on the bathroom counter, eyes closed and a small smile on his lips as you wipe off all his makeup for him. Lyney was going to try and strike up a conversation because he’s not used to the silence. He’s stuck in his mindset, thinking he has to talk and impress you with a big grin on his lips. That’s what he was supposed to do at his shows after all. Make the audience happy and such.

But, he doesn’t. Because right when he opened his mouth you said, “It’s okay. If you don’t feel like talking right now, that’s alright.” His smile seems to freeze in place at your words. Nothing comes out of him. He doesn't even seem to blink. “…” He looks at his lap, a frozen smile still on his face, and you can see how the clocks are turning in his head. You were not an audience member. You were not someone he needed to constantly impress. You were not his siblings. You were not someone he needed to hide his feelings from just to appear “strong”. You were his significant other. His other half. The person who can look out for him and it wouldn't be any sort of burden. Lyney’s fake smile he had on for his audience was gone instantly. his whole attitude of appearing perfect has disappeared..

The hat on Lyney’s head seems to feel a lot heavier, and for the first time in two weeks, he wants to take it off. “So-...Sorry…I need some time-” Lyney slowly takes his hat off his head and places it beside him, looking at it with a blank look in his eyes. with the simple absence of his hat, that alone felt like a huge weight had been taken off his shoulders. He doesn't know why he's apologizing. He doesn't know if he's apologizing to you. he doesn't know if it was for forgetting just how special you are and that you're not to be confused with his audience members. Or if he's apologizing to himself for not slowing down and taking a moment to just breathe. “Take your time. We have nowhere to be,” you told him softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He nods with a little yawn escaping his lips. …archons, when was the last time he got some decent sleep? When you've removed all his makeup and put everything away, you're helping him off the counter and exiting the bathroom with him right beside you. After, you put him in one of your shirts since it was the only other option you had for clothes. It helped him get out of his magician clothing and make him feel more grounded in his home. Lyney, who's now lying between your legs, nuzzling into the warmth of your chest with an additional blanket on top of both of you. He felt like he was in heaven with the additional soft praises you whispered in his ear. “You did such a good job, meeting all the crowd’s expectations. and that new trick turned out amazing, all of your hard practice paid off, my love.” Your fingers carding through his blonde hair, playing with them and lightly scratching at his scalp. His eyes are closed, enjoying all the sensations you provided, and soon enough you hear soft purrs coming from your boyfriend. Yes, that's right. Your boyfriend, who did not have a tail or cat ears, was purring like a little kitten. And this wasn't the first time it happened. You asked him why he didn't have the cat appearance like his sister, and he replied, “Well, if there were two people, there wouldn't be enough diversity don't you think? It'd be quite boring if me and Lynette were both cat people” like it was obvious.

You had to hand it to him, he was kind of right about that. He used magic to conceal his ears and tails, but that didn't mean he didn't have them at all. Which explains how he was purring at the moment. You knew he was about to fall asleep and you quickly pressed a kiss to his head while murmuring, “Lyney un-do it.” A whine comes from him and he nuzzles further into your chest. “Nooo. I don’t want to moveeee” he complains, voice drowsy. “But baby it makes your head sore and gives you a headache. We agreed you’d un-do it before you fell asleep, remember?” He's groaning now. If he had to explain how it felt to conceal his ears, it felt like he was wearing a wig that was too small for his head. If he wore this wig for too long, naturally it would hurt and feel like his head was going to burst into a million pieces. “I promise you can sleep right after,” you say, trying to give him some sort of incentive Lyney’s face peaks up from your chest and he’s shaking his head quickly back and forth. Like magic, a pair of cat ears appeared on the top of his head, bouncing back and forth with his head, and a tail appeared near his lower back. A moan of relief slips from his mouth. His head feels so much better now. “And you say I don't care about you,” you teased “Yes yes, you always know what's best for me,” he says dismissively, closing his eyes and getting ready to sleep. You couldn't see his face, but you could feel the small and genuine smile on his lips that rested against your skin. Maybe this is why Lyney can't rest in his breakroom. In his breakroom, he's by himself and doesn't know how to take care of himself. He only knows how to apply the makeup, wear some fake smiles for the crowd, and take off the makeup. But his break room didn't have you. You, who would take care of him in ways he didn't know how. You, who would give him kisses and cuddles. It seems that you were his place where you could take a break. Lyney almost snorted at the thought. How could a person be a place? It sounded so silly.

right before he lost consciousness for the night, his tail managed to wrap itself around your arm that rested on his lower back, keeping you close to him even as he slept.

#genshin impact x reader #lyney x reader #genshin impact reverse comfort #lyney reverse comfort #lyney fluff #genshin impact fluff #lyney having cat features :>#he just needs a break every once in awhile :((

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star-anise · 5 months

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now, hold still—

I'd kill for some resources on body image in the context of disability, chronic pain, and having grown up with a complicated and intense medical history. I think I've exhausted my local library's offerings. Yes, I'm seeing a counsellor who focuses on this, and he's probably got recs, but I'm pacing my cage and lashing my tail in between sessions.

"Body image" has a particular connotation most of the time, because it comes out of the field that deals with eating disorders. Which is great and I'm glad for the people it works for, but its basic principles and assumptions are for completely different problems than the one I have.

I can't track down who said it first, but in my reading I keep coming across this narrative of, "I saw my body as something to be disciplined and controlled, an object only seen by external eyes. Now I've learned to take joy in what my body can do and experience, and to see it as a site of pleasure."

...Sounds fake, but okay.

My body is a site of pain. It cannot do or bear the experience of many things. I have to exercise a huge amount of discipline and control just to get out of bed every day. I can't imagine my body being a visible object that other people might find pleasing; it's incredibly hard to look up from my continual tooth-and-nail fight getting my body to let me live to imagine what someone who doesn't live with all this shit might see.

When I was a child, I learned to hold myself very still. For a hairdresser, or photographer, or a dentist, or someone who wanted to measure my height, or an injection, or a doctor who wanted a demonstration of how one of my joints looked, or an X-ray, or an IV inserted, or a CAT scan, or to have a cast taken off, or a PET scan, or to have a wound treated, or an MRI, or to have a pin pulled out.

And you know, I got proud of that. I felt like a brave warrior in a fantasy novel. I learned to take deep breaths, and take myself in my mind away from the anxiety and unpleasantness, until I could shut down my reaction to it. So that I didn't flinch or scream or cry. Because there was something wrong with my body, and doctors knew how to fix it.

When I was getting assessed for fibromyalgia, this new doctor told me he was going palpate areas in my back, arms, and knees. I get a lot of massage; I knew what was coming. I slowed my breathing, concentrating on the long outbreath. I took myself away from my reactions and thought continually, obsessively, about letting my body droop, weightless, like the moment when your aching limbs meet a solid surface and fresh cool sheets.

"Hm, I dunno," he said. "A lot of this checks out, but your trigger point exam was totally negative. Most people, when I touch those points, they have a big reaction. Some people even scream and jump off the table."

"Well, no," I think I said. "If I'd done that, it would have hurt way more, for like, hours." And I was polite about it, because you have to be polite to doctors; doctors know how to make you feel better. But what I felt at the time, and still feel today, is a kind of outrage I labelled was unreasonable the moment it was born: You wanted to hurt me, and it's my fault for not letting you?

How do you learn how to ask for things, when you've taught yourself to lie still and cry quietly because the nurse who said they'd be right back is helping someone who suddenly needs the help more? How do you express yourself, when you've spent your whole life gritting your teeth?

The problems I have about my body are not about being attractive or thin. They are, however, about being small. Learning to cry less, scream less, and ask for less. About feeling like my body is a burden to anyone who comes to know it, and like that's a burden I can't ask other people to take on unless I'm staggering under the weight of it.

Right now, what I've got is this:

Remember, you weren’t the one who made you ashamed, but you are the one who can make you proud. Just practice, practice until you get proud, and once you are proud, keep practicing so you won’t forget. You get proud by practicing.

#staranise original #chronic pain lyfe #gore tw

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esamastation · 8 months

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Shizuroth, part two?

In a restroom near the infirmary, Shen Qingqiu takes a long look at himself, at his life, at his situation.

Though he's not Shen Qingqiu anymore, is he? He's someone else now. Someone super tall, super buff, super dangerous, from what he remembers - someone, who like all the great superstars, only has one name.

Sephiroth.

It scarcely makes sense. Actually, it doesn't make any sense! And neither does his mirror reflection! Nor the utterly ridiculous coat he's supposed to be wearing! Even Binghe didn't have his chest this badly exposed! There's so much leather! Leather trousers and boots and coat and no shirt, at all, just his chest all out for the whole world to see!

Shen Qingqiu's adopted xianxia sensibilities are swooning in shock at the indecency. Indecency, he says! He's used to wearing the minimum of six layers, none of them skin tight, and in the meanwhile Sephiroth barely fits into three! Technically two and a half!

Sephiroth is - he looks like -

He actually looks a lot like Shen Qingqiu? Mostly around the face. Same kinda narrow features, sharp eyes, straight nose… the colouring and the, ahem, proportions are a bit off - Sephiroth is huge, maybe even taller than Binghe! Muscles on muscles, seriously! But, give him a hair dye and some robes, and, well. He might pass for Shen Qingqiu's taller, buffer brother!

Which is kinda, ahem. Shen Yuan sort of also had that resemblance, just in the other direction. Smaller and softer. It probably means something, but he's too busy trying to get his stupid indecent leather coat to close at the front to care.

The coat does not close. It's literally too small. Who would've thought, the big bad badass boss of Final Fantasy VII had his tits out, because his clothes were just too small! What, did he out grow them?

Get a new coat!

Giving up on the clothes, Shen Qingqiu - or should he think of himself as Sephiroth now? - runs his only slightly shaking hands over and down his hair. At least that's sort of familiar. Sephiroth's hair is a bit longer than Shen Qingqiu's, but at least he's used to handling long hair like it. The colour is new, and he can tell it hasn't been oiled like his used to be in PIDW, but instead it has that nostalgic quality of being conditioned. And that's, honestly, something to look forward to! Shampoo and conditioner and, oh, gods, showers! Not only that, but there's electricity, and there are electrical appliances - so, following that logic, Sephiroth might even have a hairdryer!

If only it didn't come with the burden of becoming yet another doomed-to-die villain. At least it's not a scum villain this time - no, just the crazy one with mommy issues who tries to destroy the planet! Fun!

Curiously gathering his hair into a loose version of Shen Qingqiu's usual updo, he turns his face this way and that. Damn, but Sephiroth is pretty. Glowing green eyes and hair like spun silver, and body of Adonis. Yet another beautiful man with a terrible past and worse future.

Maybe Shen Yuan's soul is cursed in some way.

Dropping the hair and letting it cascade back down over the pauldrons capping his already ridiculously broad shoulders, he leans over the restroom sink and tries to remember what even happened in FFVII.

It's been well over two decades since he played it! It or Crisis Core - or whatever it was, the PSP sequel-prequel thing with Zack? Sephiroth had made a bunch of cameos in other games too, and then there was the movie - so who knows which version he's in! Which timeline, which moment in which timeline? Maybe he's in Kingdom Hearts! He could be! For all he knows, he might be in some official novel version, and he'd never read any of those, if they even exist!

Safe to say it's before the main game, though, what with him being alive and, judging by things… in Shinra. Figure they probably wouldn't be doing medical stuff for him if he'd already stabbed the president to death. And that happened years after he died, so, uh… it's probably somewhere in the Crisis Core era. Or any number of the mobile games that took place in between, though he'd never really looked into those. So. Uh…

After having his life revolve around PIDW and cultivation and Luo Binghe, it's weird, trying to remember an ancient PS1 game. Though he'd played it emulated on the computer. Thankfully, he's not in that version, graphics-wise, that would've been painful. And speaking of pain…

If nothing else, he's well out of Luo Binghe's reach now, far better than he would've been in just the Sun and Moon Dew Flower body. He paid back his debts best he could when he self-destructed, and now he's off to a whole different world, genre, even the media is different! No being torn limb from limb here! Just a lot of stab wounds. And, well, maybe some medical torture. And, uh, several short-term resurrections followed by more stabbing to death… while slowly losing his mind… and growing extra limbs… uh.

Still, definitely an upgrade from years upon years as a tortured human stick before being killed by his favourite character! And he doesn't even have a System here! No OOC lock! No B-points or System punishments!

He lights incense in his heart for Airplane-bro, all the while nodding to himself in congratulations for this positive turn of events. Airplane would've felt similarly in his boots, surely. His ridiculous, knee-high, edgelord boots.

Feeling a little better, he rummages through Sephiroth's pockets and comes away with a treasure trove of props. Keys, key cards, glowing marbles of Magic, which he knows are Materia, but which to his lingering Shen Qingqiu sensibilities look a lot like first grade spirit stones… and best of all…

He brings it out slowly and holds it up reverently. It's the most special, most magical thing he's seen in years! It's so beautiful, he could weep!

Sephiroth, it so happens, has a smartphone.

*muffled giggling*

#Fanfiction #Svsss #Ffvii #Shen Yuan #Shen Qingqiu #Sephiroth

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thelovehypothesis · 6 months

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Sunsets with you.

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Requested- lost my old account so this is basically me reposting my old stuff

Summary: Everyone else’s opinions on your and Harry’s relationship get in your head, but you’re it for Harry and he won’t have it any other way.

a/n’s: pretty sloppy but smwt enjoyable, please sendin request!

You’re well aware that you’re living the dream of many, being Harry’s girlfriend is something many dream of and somehow here you are, 4 years into a relationship with the man of your dreams.

Even though you were “living the dream” this said dream can with backlash, 4 years of trying to have a private (as possible with some fail) relationship, and some how media always had article to share on your relationship, fans had comments and haters hate to spread.

Truthfully it never got any easier for you to have the public eye on you, even though Harry always tried to help with sweet nothing and telling you to just full on ignore it, it was hard one click lead to another and you ended up engulfed in people opinions about you and your relationship.

Having said that, tour had been taking a toll on your relationship, you being “left” behind in London with harry signing his heart out around the world just gave your mind to much time to click and overthink, and most articles and post you read were full on rumors questioning your fidelity and his, and well you two trusted each other and had been through so many scandals that you knew better that to even bat a thought a those articles. It was rather the article criticizing you: your job, looks, intentions, family; that’s were you’d overthink your value in the relationship.

And so you started to distance yourself from him, not picking up his phone calls ever time he would call, texting him back less often and giving him shorter replies.

So when he came back for a short break, his grown worry from your uninterested self on having a proper conversation with him immediately unleashed a fight, well more so of an argument.

“We’ve been through this! You have to stop reading the comment and articles. They know one shit about us!”

“H-how can I. Im sorry but all they say is true! You’re this big pop star traveling all around the world with this huge successful career, while I’m stuck here working a 9 to 5!”

Silence

Being truthful Harry and you hardly fought but we you did it some how always lead to moments like this. You looking at each other with pleading eyes, hoping the other would just listen.

“I-I-I don’t know what you want me to say y/n”

“I don’t need you to say anything. I need you to listen, and to finally realize that I’m not-not enough for you H.

You need someone that can travel with you, and that can take on the public eye and-and that’s not me-“

“stop”

You could see the tear drops forming in Harrys eyes, even though yours are already flooded.

“Harry-“

“No. No. Yo-You don’t get to say those things. Not now not ever”

He starts stepping closer, cupping your face with his hand making you look at him.

“y/n listen please… just listen.

You are the most amazing human being I’ve had the pleasure of meeting, I know you better than anyone so I get to tell you that-that the comparison you’re making isn’t fair. You’re working on achieving your dreams, and you not that far away, and we are still so young, and somehow everyday you prove yourself to everyone around you, there is no doubt in the world that you’re the most talented person out there. I on the other had just got a head start and-and without you I-I wouldn’t be here, you’re my muse, my everything”

Sobbing, full on sobbing. How could this god of a human possibly believe in you this much knowing first hand how tough the world is.

“Harry I-I just can do it anymore-

I feel so small sometimes and I don’t want to be a burden to you”

“God y/n”

Harry lets you go.

He goes upstairs, and that’s the last indicator you needed to know that Harry can grow so much more if you just let him go, so you follow him, to say goodbye and sorry one more time.

When you got to you shared bedroom, you saw him walking out of the closet, eyes immediately meeting.

“I still hadn’t planned it out so far but I guess the time found it’s self”

Harry steps closer to you and takes your hand in his. Now in your hand, is a small velvet box.

Tears on the edge of both your eyes, but for a different reason now.

‘Just stop your crying, it’ll be alright’

“You’re it for me. And no matter how many times I have to reassure you of it, it’s me who doesn’t deserve you. “

‘So please stop your crying baby it’s the sign of the times

runaway with me, to a world that only you and me’

“Harry- are you sure of what your doing” your voice trembling more that thought possible.

A scoff leaves his mouth.

“I’m sure. I want this. All of it. The big house on top of the hill, the four children running around screaming, the wedding, the dog, all of it.

So y/n y/l/n would you do me the honor of marrying me and living the rest of life together?”

He said now on one knee.

He sees right through you, he knows you could never stop living him even if you tried to, you two find home in each other.

So without an other thought, you rapidly nod your head and kneel down to be able to kiss Harry.

The kiss you shared was full of the unspoken sorry’s each of you feel needs to be said, the new promises that come with this new stage your relationship, just love, the immense love you two share.

“I love you.”

“I love you so much more.”

And there you were in your sweet tender moment, not a worry in mind, hearts beating in sync and lovesick eyes that gazed at each other.

After a few more moments Harry broke the silence.

“I love you so much that if you want me to scream it from the rooftops I will, if you need me to reassure you of your worth every day I will. I will do anything if it makes you happy.”

“I love you so much. Thank you for loving me as much”

“Forever.”

He’d already slipped the ring on your finger sealing this moment forever.

End 📌

#harry styels x reader #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles #tlhharrystyles

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pedropascallme · 5 months

Text

People Worth Saving

Pairing: Emmett x f!Reader

Summary: "You bit the bullet and wandered closer to the dome, quiet footsteps aided by your worn-down sneakers and a strong will to find some security in this new space. Before you managed to lean down, to open the hatch and slide down into the waiting abyss below, something grabbed your jacket and pulled you back. The urge to cry out was tamped down by your will to live, and by the hand that quickly covered your mouth."

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI) age gap (reader is 19-20), p in v sex, oral (f receiving), mentions of death, child loss, general Quiet Place II angst, you know the drill, etc, etc. If I missed anything please let me know!

You had distant memories about your childhood, and the hammock that your father set up in the front yard between the two tall trees that had been there longer than the neighborhood had. He had gotten lazy, setting it up one summer and then never taking it down; it sat through sleet and snow and sunshine in the same spot.

Even if it got wet, you didn’t mind. You loved that hammock.

You realized early on that if you swung your legs over the side and swayed back and forth, you could use it as a swing. Pumping your legs hard and building up momentum only to leap off at the last second and fall in a heap at the end of the lawn. It drove your mother crazy with worry about skinned knees and concussions, but you were so full of joy in the moments of adrenaline leading up to the landing.

In the fall, when the leaves changed and fell and the trees became dormant, your father brought out the rake to clear the driveway and the path to the stairs. He piled the leaves high, and you always managed to completely destroy his hard work; swinging in the hammock and launching yourself into the dry, dead leaves, you created an explosion of autumn colors around yourself, feeling the solid crunch under your body. You’d laugh and laugh, and when your father had seen what you’d done, he would laugh, too, raking the leaves back up to repeat the cycle again.

You didn’t even care that for the rest of the day you found small twigs in your Pippy Longstocking-style braids, or that the leaves made your clothes smell musty until your mother threw them in the wash. You were too young to care about anything but having fun.

Now dry leaves terrified you.

Walking through the field felt like a death sentence, and every step you took was carefully calculated to avoid detection. Your heel would land softly in a patch of dirt, then your opposite foot would land sideways on the grass surrounding an obvious booby trap. You had no idea if it was still operating, if whoever had put it there was still checking it or if they were even still alive, but you didn't want to test any theories.

You longed to crunch the leaves under your feet, to feel the simmering nostalgia under your skin come to a boil and create your own pile to jump into—to feel free again from the burden of the world and of survival.

You made it to the entrance, concrete and dry, and you breathed a sigh of relief. Though the building was huge and likely easy to hide in, and the interior was empty enough to create a dull echo with every step, you still found solace in solid footing. Part of you wanted to scream out a greeting, to see if anybody would reveal themselves—perhaps the creator of the traps outside, or someone who had found said creator and done to them what most people do now when they come across an unsuspecting second party.

Screaming was off the table, for obvious reasons, but that didn’t stop the voice in your head from repeating hello? Over and over until you couldn’t remember if you had said it out loud or not.

You took several light steps to explore your surroundings. It had been a factory, maybe, or a foundry; it was mostly machinery and empty space, but you could imagine the people that must have once taken up space on the now-empty floor around the large pillars and appliances.

You couldn’t imagine that many of them were still breathing.

There was a dome shaped trap door on the far end of the building, and you felt the urge to explore further; it had been too long since you’d been able to rest in a sturdy, isolated place, and the itch to know what was behind the hatch made you feel unreasonably confident in finding safety with whatever it was. A bed, maybe. Something soft and warm and capable of helping you forget the constant state of fear you lived in.

You bit the bullet and wandered closer to the dome, quiet footsteps aided by your worn-down sneakers and a strong will to find some security in this new space. Before you managed to lean down, to open the hatch and slide down into the waiting abyss below, something grabbed your jacket and pulled you back. The urge to cry out was tamped down by your will to live, and by the hand that quickly covered your mouth.

You breathed heavily into the warm hand that now sat on your lips. The other hand of the person who now held you captive tightened around the base of your jacket, pulling you further from the promise of any dream you had created that lay beyond the underside of the trap door. You couldn’t turn your head, relying now on your eyes quickly darting side to side, trying to use your peripheral to catch a glimpse of whoever the hands connected to.

“No.”

It was a man’s voice, shaky and frightened but clearly attempting to reprimand you. You kept breathing, trying to find a way out of the situation, or at the very least a way out of your current position. You slowed your breathing, trying to still your body, making yourself malleable and light in his hands so that he assumed you would submit. You felt his hand loosen its grip on the fabric around your back, and in the same moment you swung your leg back, digging your heel into his shin as best you could from the angle before stomping on his foot when your leg came down.

His hands flew to his face, covering his own mouth in an attempt to silence his yelp at the sudden pain in his leg. You turned around, grabbing his wrists limply and forcing your fingers into his short hair to pull him down to you. You saw him wince under the handkerchief he wore across the bottom half of his face, bright blue eyes, worn down and tired, narrowing at you. You stared at each other until he gathered his bearings, straightening his legs and overcoming the pain you had caused him.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” You whispered as menacingly as you could, refusing to become a shrinking violet in the presence of this stranger after everything you had gone through. He moved his hands slightly, as if to shrug, before you realized you had him trapped with his palms over his face and thus left him unable to speak. You dropped his wrists, and his arms fell to his sides, but you kept a vice-grip on his scalp.

“Get out.” He kept his sentences short, you noticed from the three words he had spoken, and you understood why.

“Why?” You weren’t going to make this easy for him.

“You can’t stay here.” Four words. New record.

“Why?” You pressed, bothered that he seemed to think he had a right to the entirety of the building despite its size.

“It’s mine.”

“Don’t see your name on it.” He rolled his eyes at you, and you tightened your grip on his hair, earning another pained look from him. “And you don’t seem to be in any position to be giving orders.”

“Took me by surprise.”

“Yeah, you and me both.” You were dry, not wanting to give in to any banter he might try to pry from you. “Look, I haven’t eaten in two days, haven’t slept in three, and I don’t think either of us wants to make a scene given the current climate,” you nodded your head toward the door, implying that you’d leave him for the wolves if you had the chance. “Let me stay. One night. Then…”

“One.” He repeated, not bothering to acknowledge your sob story or the implication that this would be a fight for later. “Can you let go of me now?” You let go of him, pushing his head slightly as you loosened your fist. He straightened to his full height and rounded you. “Were you followed?”

“If I was, we’d be dead by now.”

“By people?”

“If I was, we'd be dead by now.” You persisted.

He let out a long exhale before nodding, bending to open the hatch and offering a hand to help you into the room below. “Ladies first.”

You exhaled sharply, biting your cheeks, and grabbing his outstretched hand before lowering yourself into the fluorescent lighting that awaited you. You retracted your hand as soon as you made it down one rung of the ladder.

It was small. Not small—it was actually bigger than most rooms you’d slept in for the past few months, but it was built like a classroom; high ceilings and minimal furniture, the lights flickered above you and you jumped when you heard the hatch close with a loud creak and crash.

“S’alright,” the man dusted his hands off on his jeans, “can’t hear us down here.”

There was a tunnel built into the wall, and you noticed a rag tied to the handle.

“What’s this?” You fiddled with the fabric before he came over to brush you off of it.

“Even quieter in there.”

“How’d you figure that out?”

“Trial and error.” He said simply before turning his back to you and slumping into the couch that lay in the middle of the room. He removed his handkerchief, sharp features only slightly hidden now by his unkept beard.

You wandered around, taking in the meager furnishings and the machinery. You had no idea what this room was meant to be in the building’s prime—maybe some sort of safe room, some sort of storage area. Who cared, really; now it was just another waste of perfectly good silence.

“So,” you started, still speaking softly out of habit and mild distrust, “are you going to, uh, get me to let down my guard? Kill me in my sleep?” You picked at the paint that was peeling off the wall.

“Not as long as you’re out by tomorrow,” he almost smiled, “and for the record, I’d only kill you if you were awake. Only fair that you see it coming, at least.”

“Cute,” you huffed, “And now that I’m down here what makes you so certain I’ll leave?” You were testing him, trying to see if there was any truth at all to what he was saying. He didn’t look like a killer, granted neither did you before day one; he was tall, compared to you, at least, and lanky. He clearly hadn’t had access to a razor since he’d been down here. He folded his arms where he sat on the couch, pleasant-ish small talk paired with closed off body language. You couldn’t see any weapons within arm’s reach, and if you had to guess you would say he only learned how to use whatever gun that he owned—if he owned one—when everything went to hell.

“Guess I’ll leave it up to trial and error again.” You liked his eyes, you decided, and the way the blue of his irises was so pronounced against his pale skin and brown hair. Maybe you even thought he was handsome, and if the circumstances were different, you might let him buy you a drink and see where it took you. You kept walking in circles around the room in silence, figuring that if he had anything worth saying he would come out and say it.

You stopped at a small table, something your mother would’ve gawked at in an IKEA as if she would actually ever buy it after looking at the price tag. There were pictures, hand drawn sketches and scribbles and faces in black and white. Some of them had color, faded, and worn by time, but still clear as day in the part of your brain that bothered to register the details.

“These are nice,” you were first to speak again, “you draw them?”

“No…” he looked like he was struggling to find the words to say what he wanted to, “My—my wife…” He trailed off, and you knew immediately that she was no longer in the picture, whether it had been before or after the invasion. Still, you felt a twang of disappointment; maybe for him, for his lonesomeness—or maybe for you, for your own.

You picked up a sketch that looked to be of two young boys, and even on the washed-out paper they looked like the man behind you. You turned, paper in hand, unsure of whether you wanted to speak to him about it, dredge up his memories.

But what's a little friendly conversation between new anti-companions?

“Yours?” You leaned over the back of the couch, holding the sketch in front of you so he could see what you were talking about. He reached for it, and you noticed a slight tremor in his hand before he took the paper from you.

“Yes,” he breathed, “yeah.”

“Look like you.”

“Better looking kids than I ever was,” he chuckled, low and solemn, “better behaved, too.” You watched on as he studied the picture, before he stood up and placed it back on the table behind the couch. “I was—um…y’ever seen the movie The Mist?”

“Yeah…” You wondered what exactly he could be building up to.

“When they—my sons—they…the first day…" You could feel his breath, not because of proximity, but because you knew the same pain. "And I was so, so scared that I would wake up on day two to find that everything had returned to normal, and everything was going to be ok, but they would still be…like at the end of that movie.” He folded his arms again, “but now I, I mean this is—god, I guess I’ve never said it out loud, uh…maybe…it’s good they didn’t have to see…this.”

You nodded, remembering how that movie ended; your parents had let you watch it, not knowing what it was about. You had nightmares any time it got foggy until you were ten or eleven. “Yeah,” you looked at him, making eye contact for a solid few seconds before averting your gaze. “I—my parents, and…my brother…” you didn’t know how to phrase it, feeling as though he had already said it all, “I get it.”

You didn’t tell him you had turned 19 in the week leading up to doomsday, that you had been sitting on the hammock that shaped your childhood and thinking about the joy of being small enough to jump into the leaf pile your dad was raking when you saw the first meteor strike town, or that the last words your mother screamed were “I’m sorry.”

It just didn’t seem right; sometimes grief is better explained through the silences.

“I’m Emmett,” he broke you from your thoughts, “And I’m…sorry for—if I scared you. Up there.”

You said your name, realizing it was the first time you had introduced yourself to anybody in over a year. You reached out your hand and he took it in a firm shake. “Pleasure.”

He smiled, a genuine, full smile this time. You decided it suited him well.

“You sleep on the couch?” You broke free from the way he was analyzing your features, trying not to focus on what he might think of them.

“Usually, yeah,” he leaned against the arm of the sofa, “but I’d be ok to sleep on the floor if you want.”

“No—that’s nice, but no, you don’t have to.” You hoped he saw through your lie, how desperately you wanted to rest on something soft. “I’m only here for the night, anyway, remember? Don’t want to…shouldn’t get too comfortable.”

“You can…” Emmett looked at you, then over his shoulder toward the couch, “I’m sorry.” He ran a hand over his forehead, lifting his messy hair before trailing down to stroke his beard, “you can stay, I just—can’t be too careful, you know? And I didn’t, I was worried you were—”

“Gonna kill you?” You smirked, and he smiled again.

“A little, yeah.” He looked at you, and you realized how close you’d gotten to him over the course of your conversation, “Stay as long as you want.”

“Does this mean I get the couch?”

“I think that’s fair.” He moved, grabbing several pillows from the couch, and dropping them on the floor underneath it; his makeshift bed would, at least, be mildly comfortable if he could help it. “You got here when the sun was setting, I’ve been up since it rose,” he sat amongst the pillows, trying to lay them out in a manner suitable for him to rest on, “So, if you don’t mind, I’m about ready to get some sleep.”

You nodded, dropping yourself onto the couch and grabbing the thin blanket draped over one of the cushions; it was threadbare, and fraying, but you didn’t care—too focused on the fact that you’d be able to sleep in a quiet, comfortable spot. You watched Emmett flick a switch in the corner of the room before he returned to his mess of pillows, and the lights dimmed. If you squeezed your eyes shut you felt like you might be able to hear your parents watching television in the other room, like you were in your own bedroom eavesdropping on their hushed conversations; safe, known.

But it wasn’t any of that—not really. In the back of your mind, you worried about the lack of exits in the room, the fact that you still didn’t know whether or not Emmett had a weapon, the looming threat that remained just above you. You looked at the ceiling when you opened your eyes, wondering if anything had followed you, wondering if they would figure out how to unscrew the hatch and find you in this echo chamber of a building.

“Emmett,” you managed to whisper through your anxieties, “Are you awake?”

“It’s been five minutes,” he sounded tired, and you realized that the dryness of his voice wasn’t due to any disinterest in you, but lack of use. “I’m still awake.”

“How do you know this is safe?” You picked a loose thread from the blanket and watched it unwind in your hands.

“It’s safe.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

You tried to drop it after that, ignoring the fears that you carried with you from past encounters where you were assured of your safety, only to wake up and find that you had to keep running. “And they can’t hear us?”

So much for dropping it.

“They can’t hear us.” You heard him turn over on the floor, and you shifted to face him. Even in the darkness, his eyes were piercing, and you had no trouble finding them with your own. “I’m certain. I promise.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be,” he shook his head, “only fair to be nervous.”

You nodded, lying back down, and pulling the blanket to your chin. It didn’t really do anything, and the chill of the room seeped into you even after you shifted to make yourself more comfortable. Maybe it was because you kept moving, or maybe he felt it too, but Emmett addressed you again.

“Cold?”

“Yeah,” you didn’t bother hiding it. Once the world went to shit there was no real reason to keep up the niceties of denying discomfort to your host. At sleepovers hosted by your friends, you would’ve said no, I’m perfectly comfortable, and breathed into your hands until the sun rose, and your mother picked you up with a sweatshirt and a bagel fresh from the toaster. Now? Fuck it.

“Would’ve been warmer in here when the building was still in use,” he began to ramble, and you thought it was so dad of him to feel the need to explain the history of the building you slept in when all you really wanted was some comfort, “machines and bodies moving, and, I mean, the heat generated from these things would’ve been crazy.”

“Emmett,” you cut his monologue short, your face peering over the couch cushions and down at him, “are there more blankets?”

“No…” He seemed embarrassed, almost like he was worried he was disappointing you.

“Are you cold?”

“Not really.” He closed his eyes.

“Emmett.”

“A little.” He sighed; his eyes opened again.

You sat up and patted the couch, unsure of why exactly this was the solution you had landed on, but feeling like it was worth a shot. “Come.”

“Are you sure?” He hardly seemed hesitant, moving to join you almost immediately, but still trying to gage whether or not it was an empty offer.

You nodded, moving to make room for him behind you. When he first settled onto the couch, you recognized that this was the first time in ages that anybody had touched you—that anybody had come close to you. Heat radiated off of his clothed body and you couldn’t help but inch closer to him, bodies tangling together on the small sofa, trying to find peace. You wondered if he felt the same catharsis that came with sharing a sleeping space; if he was just as in awe as you were at how perfectly your bodies seemed to fit together, curving to appeal to the needs of each other and your individual comfort. Emmett’s arm draped over your abdomen, his hand brushing the hem of your shirt, and you sighed, unable to hide your content at the feeling of him shielding you from the wider world.

“When was the last time you…” you whispered, trailing off when you realized how awkward the question would sound.

“Hm?” His response was muffled, his face all but buried in your hair.

“When was the last time you touched somebody?” You but the bullet.

“I…must be months, now.” He didn’t think too long about it, “What about you?”

You turned in his arms, careful to not disturb the cushions too much under your weight. You were face to face with him now, with little room to do anything but breathe. “I don’t remember.”

You didn’t mean it in any sexual sense; really you were just curious as to how much physical affection anybody was getting given the current state of things; how long had it been since any two people had the time to just hold hands? And really enjoy the touch and weight of the other’s hand in their own, fingers interlocked? But deep down you knew there was an implication to your words, a desperate implication that you hoped he would pick up on, and that, if he did, he would understand your want, and fulfill it wholeheartedly.

Emmett’s hand strayed from your waist to brush your cheek, the back of two fingers caressing your skin, and your patience broke; you held his wrist with both hands, a parallel to the way you had trapped him earlier when you considered him a threat, and lowered it to your lips. You could feel the callouses he had built up, the roughness of his palm versus the soft skin of the back of his hand. You gave each finger a delicate kiss, waiting for him to break away, waiting for him to move back to the floor and tell you that you absolutely had to leave tomorrow, to hell with what he had said earlier.

But he didn’t.

He watched, transfixed, as you slid one finger into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip and releasing it with a quiet pop. You let go of his wrist, and looked up at him with hooded eyes, half-expecting a look of disgust.

His mouth was open just enough to see the edges of his top teeth, eyes focused on your lips, and you felt that his breathing had picked up, though that could have been a trick of the surrounding quiet.

“You like that?” No, he was definitely breathing harder. You could hear it in his words.

“Yeah,” you sighed, relieved by his words, the bright eyes staring back at you in the dark room seemed entirely untroubled with your actions, “Do you?”

“Yeah.” His fingers moved to trace the shape of your face before landing on your chin, lifting you slightly higher to allow him access.

No time was wasted in the moments that followed; his mouth attached to yours in one natural movement, and he immediately granted your tongue access to him when you began licking gently at his lower lip. You felt spit and teeth, and you could hear your heart in your ears, its rhythm in your face as he nipped gently at you, your lips getting puffy from use.

Arms wrapped around your waist again, this time to haul you up and over Emmett’s body, his motion encouraging you to straddle his waist. You planted your hands on his chest before reconnecting your lips to him, determined to explore every inch he offered you from your new vantage point. His t-shirt, stretched and worn, exposed a sliver of his chest, and you were quick to suck marks onto his collar bones and just below them. He groaned at the contact, hands traveling lower down your body in order to undo your jeans.

“Work with me baby, c’mon,” Emmett clumsily undid your fly as you licked over any skin you could reach. He pulled at your hair to bring your line of sight to his, and the stinging pressure on your scalp made you moan, “Help me out here, I’ll give you what you want.”

You straightened out above him, grinding your hips into his as you stripped down; jacket, shirt, and jeans following once you had made enough room for yourself to remove them. You returned to your rightful place on his lap, continuing to grind down onto him to relieve the building ache in your core. The friction he gave you was just right, and it helped to hear him groan when you dragged your hips up and down at just the right pace, his cock twitching in his pants at the weight and the angle.

His hands came up to paw at your chest, squeezing the tender skin before leaning forward to wrap his lips around your nipple. Your back arched, and you could only guess how pathetic it looked, coming so undone, so easily, for a man you had just met, clearly more than ten years your senior.

It was desperate and needy, and you didn’t care; you deserved this. Both of you deserved this.

You felt teeth brush against your pebbled skin, making you grind down harder atop him, letting the tip of his clothed cock catch your naked cunt and relishing in the sensation. He removed his mouth from your nipple, pulling you down to him to reconnect your mouths and give you a deliberately sloppy kiss full of tongue.

“Off,” you pleaded between gasps of air, fingers skimming the edge of his pants, “Take them off.”

Emmett huffed, and you sat back on your knees, giving him the space to sit up and remove his shirt, before he stood to take off his jeans. You waited for him to rejoin you on the couch, to continue what he had started there, but he kneeled in front of you instead, pulling you legs apart and holding them wide open.

“God,” one of his hands fell forward, gently placed low on your stomach, his thumb toying with your swollen clit and puffy lips, “Fuck.”

He dove into you, mouth open and wanting; you felt him come into contact with your hole and you jumped, head back and eyes closed as genuine pleasure washed over you. You placed a hand on the back of his neck to stabilize yourself as he began to fuck you with his tongue. The muscle lapped up your slick, pushing back into you, and repeating the process, his thumb still massaging your clit.

“Yeah, like that,” you whimpered, back arching off the couch. The hand still on your thigh ensuring that your legs would stay open for him reached up to squeeze one of your nipples; it was rough, and all the movement and friction he was giving you was utterly relentless. The overstimulation left you reeling, and you put your own fingers in your mouth to muffle the screams you wished you could let him hear. “Just like that, Emmett.”

You felt yourself teetering on the edge, one breath and you were a goner, bound to free-fall.

"I feel you," he let a trail of spit fall over your cunt, and when he spoke you could feel the prickly hair of his beard against your thighs, "squeezing me so tight—cum for me, baby, c'mon."

He sped up his movements on your clit ever so slightly, and you felt your legs begin to tremble, body light and head full of stars. You came with ease, the most relaxed you’ve felt in ages was with Emmett’s face buried in your cunt, lapping up what dripped from you like it was his only water source.

You nearly had to pry him off of you, fist in his hair while you came to from your high as he continued to enjoy himself vicariously through your pleasure.

“Come,” you steadied your breathing, “come here.” And he listened, but not before allowing himself a final taste, dipping his tongue into your center, rising to meet you face-to-face in another deep kiss. You could taste the sweet tang of your cum on his tongue, and it only drove you further into the fucked-out fugue state you were experiencing; you gripped his shoulders, pulling him closer and moaning into his mouth.

There was no rush, no bell to beat or timeframe to fit into, but you wanted so badly to see him come undone for you; you raised yourself up on your knees, and you felt them dig into the couch, the pattern of the fabric marking your skin as you pushed Emmett down. He sat, beckoning you to straddle him. You felt a shred of embarrassment, clambering to position yourself on top of him, an awkward feeling you hadn’t felt since high school, but it didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered right now except him.

“Slow,” you finally settled, feeling his length brush against you from below, and with your head resting against his shoulder you could feel your own breath rebound against your nose. “Need you to go slow.”

“I know, baby,” he cooed, reaching down to fist his cock and line himself up with your entrance, “Don’t worry, I got you.”

You began to lower yourself, the feeling of his swollen head nudging your hole made you suck in a sharp breath; you bent your legs further, taking more of him, letting him fill you completely on your own terms, and he guided you every step of the way with his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, breathing hard against the crown of your head.

Maybe it was because of the tension, or because you so craved the connection—to hear him respond to you and what you alone were doing—but you dropped down quickly on the last few inches, feeling him deep and rough against your cervix, earning a choked groan from Emmett in your ear.

“Fuck, good, baby, that’s right.” You preened at his words, holding your position for a while longer to get accustomed to the stretch you felt before finally raising yourself up slightly just to inch back down his shaft again.

You felt full, stretched out and used—but in a way that was so positively welcomed; it had been too long since you were able to enjoy yourself in any capacity, but this act was certainly the most fun.

“Feel good? Like riding me like this?” Emmett tilted his head back, grabbing a handful of your hair to pull you from the crook of his neck. You stared at him, and he at you, hellbent on watching as you liberated yourself from the nerves and anxieties of the world around you—he craved your bliss as much as you did.

“Yes,” you squeaked, still bouncing on his cock, legs getting sore at the exertion in such a tight space, “So fucking good, Emmett.”

He moaned, eyes fluttering closed and hands moving to grip your ass. You could feel his blunt nails dig into your skin, and you expected—hoped—that there would be bruises to show for it tomorrow.

“Getting tired?” He whispered when he noticed the short breaks you took between moving up and down on his cock to simply grind down onto him, moving your legs around his chest awkwardly in an attempt to shift your weight. You nodded, thighs burning from exertion, and he sat up, kissing your forehead before lifting you gently off of him and moving you to lie back on the couch. Emmett took his time crawling over you; he kissed your thighs, your stomach, the space between the plush skin of your breasts, before finally he had you completely engulfed underneath him, giving you soft kisses as he slid himself back into your warmth. You lifted your hips to meet him, moaning at how he fit with you, how you could memorize every ridge and vein of him like this.

And then he started really moving.

You felt him pull out, the slight pressure of the tip of his cock pressed gently against your entrance, taunting you, before he slammed himself back into your waiting cunt. It was deep, and rough, and you clawed at his bicep to ground yourself to him.

Emmett let out deep moans, forehead pressed against yours while he drove his cock as far into you as he could, and your logical side went completely out the window; you whined, yelped at the pleasure coursing through you, mewled for him louder than you should have, but neither of you seemed to care.

“That’s right,” he closed his eyes, focusing every part of himself on you, “give me another one, let me feel you.” His fingers latched onto your clit, watching intently at the way your face contorted at the friction combined with the feeling of his cock inside of you. He drew tight circles over the bud, letting you buck your hips up into him to signify how much pressure you needed at a given moment.

“Gonna—I’m gonna cum,” you whispered, then, louder, “Emmett, I’m gonna fucking cum.”

He didn’t say anything, just applied more pressure to your clit and gave you longer, slower thrusts. He watched as you began to tremble, your mouth falling open with small whines of his name. He sat up, cock still buried in your heat, thrusts slowing as you opened your eyes to the white-hot satisfaction of your orgasm. Overstimulated didn’t begin to cover it, but you didn’t want this to end.

His thrusts were getting sloppier, not in the sense that you could feel his rhythm falter, but his hips stuttered slightly every time he was fully sheathed in you, and you could tell he was holding back, trying to make this more about you than about his own release.

You pulled him down, nuzzling his neck and placing sloppy kisses on his pulse point as you whispered to him: “Want you to cum,” your lips grazed the shell of his ear, “Please, Emmett.”

You were proud that it seemed to only take your pleading whispers for him to lose himself to the finish he longed for; his hips snapped rough against you, and you could feel his chest heave against your own when he allowed himself one more moment inside of you before pulling out to finish in his fist.

His cum was warm, a perfect contrast to the sweat cooling on your skin, and his growl of your name was music to your ears. He fell forward, head cushioned by your breasts while you both focused on your breathing. Your fingers found the hair on the nape of his neck, thumb brushing the part of his beard that curved just under his ear.

You were in the perfect space between tired and satisfied.

“Thank you,” Emmett murmured into your skin, punctuating his words with soft kisses.

“Thank you,” you echoed, unsure of what to say now that the heat of the moment had passed. “I…I needed that.” You paused, “I liked that.”

“Me too,” he whispered.

“I don’t want it—I don’t want this to be the only time.” You felt immature for some reason, all but begging for this to happen again when you didn’t even know if you’d see next week.

“Doesn’t have to be,” he whispered, “we don’t have to leave,” he looked up at you, tracing your features with his eyes, “You don’t ever have to leave.”

You grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. He squeezed it back.

You fell asleep without a care, thrilled to be in the position you were in, in every sense of the word; Emmett stayed on your chest, the weight of his body on yours only adding to the reassurance and calm you felt.

You had a dream that you raked your own pile of leaves, and jumped into them.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #a quiet place #a quiet place part ii #a quiet place ii #a quiet place 2 #emmett #emmett x reader #emmett x you #emmett a quiet place #emmett fanfiction #emmett smut

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mysadcorner · 5 months

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Helloooo

Would I please be allowed to request affectionate Fem!reader x touch starved batboys + Bale!Bruce Wayne headcanons pls and thx <33

TouchStarved!Batfam x Reader Headcanons

-Credit to the gifs owner - Please be specific about characters wanted in requests -

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Bruce Wayne

• Bruce isn't going to handle his first experience of genuine affection from you very well. He's going to be a bit distant at first until he's comfortable around your affection and he's sure that you're not trying to manipulate him in any way or get something from him (even if he knows that this isn't the case, he still has a hard time with getting close to people and receiving affection).

• Due to the loss of his parents he does hate to genuinely get close to a person in an emotional way, especially if they're a normal person. Until he is finally close to you, and even during your relationship together, he'll be more paranoid and worried about someone finding out his identity and using you as a way to hurt him in any way.

• If you try to get him to open up he will be quite hostile and he genuinely doesn't mean to be. He's becomes very defensive due to the walls he's built up for so long and he isn't quite sure how to allow them to come down and let you in at first without feeling incredibly vulnerable.

• It may be easier for him to get to know you if you're also a hero or vigilante and he gets to know you while keeping his identity a secret. He doesn't have to worry about disappointing you with his true self, and he'll be reassured that you're able to look after yourself if you're ever confronted by anyone intending to cause you harm.

• Opening up to you would be a gradual process, but if you take some time it will be possible to have him be vulnerable and honest with you eventually. You may even help him work through the many emotional problems he has which could lead to him settling down and living a peaceful life without his Batman persona one day in the future.

Dick Grayson

• Dick's loss of his parents cause him to behave almost the opposite of Bruce, and he has become almost addicted to physical touch and emotional comfort. He starts to crave you as soon as you've shown him some affection and he will absolutely become addicted to you being around him.

• He allows himself to open up to you almost immediately if he thinks that you truly care about him and he trust's you. He has a lot of pent up feelings and thoughts that he hasn't able to get out, so you being there for him definitely takes a huge burden off of his shoulders.

• Dick starts to indulge in many of the things he didn't get in the past due to having so many unstable relationships, so this does lead him to rely on you emotionally quite a bit. He always seems to be funny and outgoing on the outside, so once you see this side of him it may come as quite a surprise.

• In public, Dick loves it when you give him affection, but of course he isn't going to go over the top with it. When you give him small touches and affection when outside or around others it gives him comfort and makes him feel much more secure in the situation he's confronted with, even if it's only a social gathering.

• Genuinely opening up to you would be a slow process, and you may need to seek advice from his family at first to try and find a way to make him feel safer while telling you things he doesn't like to talk about. But this will come naturally to him after a while, he just needs to get to a stage where he feels like he's ready to actually say certain things out loud.

Jason Todd

• Jason would probably be quite hesitant to receiving affection, especially if this is shortly after he 're-joined' the family, or hasn't been able to work out the trauma he's been through yet. He get's paranoid about what could possibly happen if you get too close to him, so it's not that he doesn't want your affection - he's just simply scared of the consequences.

• Despite craving someone to be close to, he doesn't have a lot of experience with actual relationships so he may be a bit awkward about how close your relationship is getting. He tries his best as much as he can, but he simply can't figure everything out by himself and he may also seem a bit clueless at times when you first approach him.

• When others aren't around Jason will become very cuddly and attention seeking towards you due to finally getting used to your new found attention for him. He didn't realise how much he was really missing out on, and now when the two of you are alone he can't get enough of it.

• In public, Jason isn't much of a big fan of affection being shown towards him. He's used to keeping up his serious image depending on who is around and he isn't the type of person to want many others seeing him in a vulnerable state no matter how small your affectionate display is.

• When Jason finally opens up to you about being emotionally and physically starved of affection and touch, he will get quite emotional. He's been keeping so many emotions and thoughts buried deep inside himself for so long that when he finally lets it all out it's like huge floodgates have been opened. You can try your best to settle him down, but this is just something he really needs to get out more than anything else.

Tim Drake

• Tim would be more inclined to return your affection even if he has been touch starved for a while since he knows how to express himself in this way a bit better than the rest of the family. He's always much calmer when opening up to you and gets to the point quickly so you wouldn't have to spend time guessing whether he's comfortable or not with your affection towards him.

• He would be quite bashful about your new found affection at first, even though he’s more than willing to accept it. He comes over this very easily though, as soon as he sees how much affection you have for him he loves it instantly.

• Tim will crave your company after you first start showing him some love and affection, especially if he notices that you’re doing it because you want to and not because you think you have time while being with him. He’s constantly keeping himself close to you in the hopes of you giving him attention without him needing to ask directly at first and will keep giving you hints depending on how long it takes for you to catch on.

• If you show Tim affection in public, or while other people are around, he may get flustered and blush a lot at first. After a while he’ll become used to a bit PDA and will be quite comfortable with it as long as it isn’t too much.

• Tim wants to be honest with you, so he’s probably going to be the most truthful about things compared to the other people in his family. However, he still has a habit of leaving out key information from the things he tells you unless you trick him into a very comfortable situation where he can’t help himself but to open up to you.

Damian Wayne

• Damian isn’t going to react well to affection the first time you try to give him some, even if the two of you are deemed to be close. He simply isn’t used to it, so even if he wants it his body may naturally put its guard up due to it being a new concept he’s experiencing.

• It will be awkward for a while as he tries to move past this, but all he really needs it to get used to it and experience it more often. Once you show affection towards him on a regular occurrence then he will be more than happy to receive it in private. He still won’t be into PDA no matter how used to it he is.

•When the two of you are alone then he will absolutely want affection from you, especially after he’s had a difficult day. He’ll be blunt to you about it and may feel more inclined to show affection towards you rather than for you to behave that way towards him once he’s able to express himself well.

• He’ll be strongly against it in public. Not only does he see it as a weakness but he would also prefer it to be a highly private thing for him. If you ever reached out to hold his hand then he may hold it back after a while of consideration, but under no normal circumstances would he initiate it himself.

•After Damian is used to giving and receiving affection from you physically, it will be much easier for him to express his emotions. It may still be quite hard for him, but after he starts to open up he realises how much better he feels to do so.

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cutielando · 5 months

Text

stand up ~ rafe cameron

my masterlist

Ever since you were little, your parents had always always fighting.

You would wake up to fighting, you would spend your days in constant fighting, you would go to sleep listening to your parents fight.

Oftentimes, the reasons were absurd. They had become like two small children fighting over crayons.

One day, your mother had decided that she had apparently had enough and left you and your father, saying that she couldn't keep living like that.

Leaving you alone with your father.

Everything was okay for the first few months, you both kept your distance from one another and barely talked when you were home.

However, then came the hard times.

The slaps, the punches, the insults, kicking you out of the house was the latest of them all.

You had gotten into an argument over something completely stupid and your father, having been drunk, yelled at you to gather all of your things and get out of his house because he never wanted to see you again, claiming you reminded him too much of the wife that left him.

You had initially called your mother, asking her if she could help you in any way. She, of course, refused to do so, claiming that she was busy and didn't have time for this.

The only other person you could of calling was Rafe, your boyfriend.

You and Rafe had been together for nearly 3 years now, so he knew all of your family problems and did his best to help you through them.

Due to the fact that you knew he also had problems at home, you tried as best as possible to not burden him any longer.

However, this was one of those moments when you just needed him.

Taking out your phone, you quickly dialed his number, him answering after the first 2 rings.

"Hey baby, what's up?" hearing his sweet voice nearly made you cry on the spot.

"Can I sleep at your house tonight? I had a fight with my father and I just don't want to be home right now" you knew lying was bad, especially to Rafe, but you didn't want to tell him the news over the phone in fear that he would come and fight your father.

It was the last thing any of you needed.

"Yes, sure. Do you want me to pick you up? It's pretty late and I don't want you walking alone in the night" his concern only made your heart flutter, realizing just how lucky you were to have someone like him by your side.

"No, it's okay. I'll take my car. I'll see you in a bit. I love you"

"I love you too" you waited for him to say before you hung up, the tears now freely running down your cheeks.

The drive to the Cameron estate was fairly quick, seeing as you didn't like that far away from them.

The lights were on in Rafe's room by the time you entered and he was laying on the bed, watching some movie on his TV.

"Hey babe- woah, what happened to you?" his gaze immediately turned concerned once he saw that your cheeks were coated with fresh tears and you had a huge suitcase behind you.

You didn't say anything before running into his outstretched arms, savoring the warmth radiating from his body.

You cried and sobbed until you had no more tears left, Rafe cradling your head in his hands, whispering sweet nothings in your ear and rubbing his hands up and down your sides and your back in a soothing manner.

Once you had finally calmed down, you pulled away from his chest but kept your arms wrapped tightly around his waist. He smiled at you and reached up to wipe the tears from your cheeks, giving you a kiss on both of them.

"Wanna tell me what happened?" his voice was soft, almost as if he feared that he would scare you away if he was any louder than that.

"Um, he, uh, he kicked me out" you mumbled, sensing the way his muscles tensed up under your touch.

"What?" he asked through gritted teeth, trying to remain calm because he didn't want to overwhelm you even more.

"We had a pretty bad argument and he was really drunk, so all of a sudden he just started yelling at me and told me to pack my things and get out and never come back. I called my mom to ask her for help but she said she was busy and she didn't have time for me and then I needed you so that's why I called" you started rambling, your breaths getting quicker and more raggedy with each word you spoke.

"Hey, hey, sh. It's okay, you're here with me and you're safe. Take some deep breaths for me, baby" he spoke as he held your face in his hands and helped you get your breathing back to normal, keeping eye contact with you the entire time.

"I know it's a lot to ask, but do you mind if I stay here for a couple of days until I figure things out? I really don't have anywhere else to go" your voice was timid, you really didn't to overstep even though you knew both his family and he loved having you around the house.

"Of course you can stay here. You're going to be living with me permanently from now on, that's final. I was planning on suggesting moving in together soon anyway, this is just an opportunity for it happen right now" he stroked your cheek with his thumb, smiling before leaning to plant a kiss on your forehead.

"Thank you so much, baby" you whispered, savoring the feeling of his lips pressed against your forehead.

"Do you have all of your things with you?" he asked while looking at the suitcase you had brought with you, a suitcase which seemed way too small to convey all of your belongings.

"No, I just grabbed the essential, everything else is still back home. Do you mind coming with me tomorrow to take everything? I really don't want to go back there alone"

"Of course I'll come, don't even question that. For now, let's just get you in bed so you can get some sleep and make you feel better.

You nodded and followed his suit, falling asleep quickly in the arms of your boyfriend.

When the next day came, you figured you would go over there in the morning to avoid your father being awake, knowing how long it takes him to recover from hangovers.

Everything was going smoothly, you had packed every last possession of yours and had almost finished bringing everything to Rafe's car when your father decided to rise from the dead.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he shouted after you, making you free.

You slowly turned around, watching him standing in the doorway of the entrance door with a beer bottle in his hand.

Rafe was watching you closely, choosing to let you handle the situation by yourself. You could feel your blood boiling and the anger surging through your entire body.

"I'm doing exactly what you told me to. I'm taking my shit and moving out, just like you asked last night" you said, glaring at him.

"And where are you gonna go, huh? Back to this bitch's mansion? You know you're not worthy of him or anything else, you're gonna be crawling back here soon enough" your father laughed while saying, taking a swig out of his bottle.

"I am sick of being your punching bag. I have put up with your insults and punches and everything since mom left but I can't fucking stand you anymore. Just because you're an excuse of a man and mom got so sick of you she couldn't even stand being around you doesn't mean you get to take it all out on me. I'm sick of your shit and I won't take it anymore" you yelled, tears flowing down your cheeks.

Your father was just staring at you, his brain not being able to comprehend what just happened.

Sensing it would be best if you left, Rafe came up behind you and wrapped one of his arms around your waist, slowly dragging you back towards the passenger seat of his car.

“Come on princess, let’s just go” he whispered as he was helping you climb into his truck, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before he shut the door and started jogging to the driver’s side.

You kept your gaze on your father the entire time before Rafe departed from your house, your gaze icy and piercing as never before.

“I can’t believe I just did that” you said quietly once Rafe had parked his car in front of your new home.

“I’m so proud of you for standing up to him like that, sweetheart. I love you so much” he leaned over the console and took your chin in his hand, giving you a meaningful kiss full of love.

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the-californicationist · 3 months

Text

Good Fences (Fluffuary #21)

FEB21: True Compliment

TW: very vague, brief mention of non-MC child verbal abuse and student advocacy

Your work had been truly awful lately. A student was trying to escape a situation involving verbal abuse, and the school that they attended had never handled a case like this before. It was a small community, and while you were trying your best to be patient, you really needed the documents to be processed emergently in order to get resources to the student and their family members.

You had been on the phone all afternoon, pressing for urgency. Then, finally, you were told that you could come pick up the documents from the district the next morning, so you hung up, exhausted.

John had been working as well, but he was running around and doing all of the household tasks on your behalf, making sure you could focus on your case. He brought you lunch, coffee, and dinner, and he even pulled out the massage oil and offered to give you a rub down as soon as you were finished with the report.

“Really, John?” You beamed, tired though you were, “That would be so nice. Thank you.”

“Lay down, pretty girl. Let me take care of you for a change,” he said as he warmed the oil up in his hands.

You stripped for him, laying across the bed where he had put down a soft towel.

He started at your shoulders, gentle at first, warming your skin and feeling the tension in your muscles.

“Such a hard worker. I love watching you fight for your students, love. You’re like a damn tiger.”

“Someone has to be,” you sighed, feeling him run his hands down your sides, petting the stress away.

“Do you need me to come with you tomorrow?” John offered.

“That would be really kind of you. If you have time,” you agreed, but you didn’t want to burden him. It was a short drive, and you could handle it. It would be nice to spend the morning together, though.

“It’s my pleasure, love.”

John focused on your lower back, and you felt the heat of his touch on such a sensitive area spread through your belly and into your core, exciting you as much as it relaxed you.

You let out a low moan, and he chuckled,

“You make the most gorgeous sounds, pretty girl. One moan and you’ve already got me achin’ for you.”

You sighed, smiling at his compliment,

“You’re the one who makes me sound like this, John. Mmm, it’s those huge hands of yours. So strong, but so gentle with me.”

He used his hands to press and roll the aches out of your back, and then, indulgently, he moved lower and began to massage your ass cheeks. It actually felt incredibly relaxing, except it was making you incredibly turned on. Your body was turning into putty, becoming so pliant for him, and he could feel the way you melted from his touch.

“Alright, love. Flip over.”

You looked up at him confused,

“What?”

“Time to get the front,” he said, his face full of mischief.

“John!” You gasped, laughing. But, you followed his command.

He didn’t touch you at first. Instead, he knelt down and leveled his gaze with yours, bringing his face to your level as you lay on the bed.

“I meant what I said, love,” he put his hand on your neck and rubbed his thumb across your jawline, petting you like something precious, “You are so brave. I admire your courage.”

You reached out for him, cupping his cheek, and brought him in for a soft kiss,

“Thank you, baby. That means a lot coming from you.”

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peachybeom · 1 year

Text

Drunk On You

non idol!yeonjunxreader

swf, slight suggestive.

note: how could i witness drunk yeonjun confessing his love for moas and not write a fic!?

Hitting send on the screen of your laptop. You finally let out a huge sigh and leaned back stretching your hands.

Work had been hectic these days due to a major lay off in your company, and all the burden was now put on you.

Icing on the cake was that your incompatible boss did nothing to ease your stress, he simply 'requested' you to work overtime for an entire week while he himself ran off on a trip to Hawaii.

You rubbed your face in irritation and ruffled your hair, letting out a silent scream.

A ringtone interrupted your mild breakdown and you reached for your phone to look at the caller ID.

Your lips automatically twisted up in a small smile as you dragged your finger to take the call.

"I just called because I really re-reallyy like you and I don't think you how much I love youu-uu ," Your boyfriend's voice boomed through the phone.

His words were slurred and his tone was loud, making you slightly flinch while putting the phone away from your ear.

"Yeonjun are you drunk?," You asked incredulously, trying to hide the amusement in your voice.

"No! What makes you th-think that? I'm just a bit ttipsy," Yeonjun replied through the phone defensively.

This time you couldn't help but let out a laugh.

Yeonjun had called you earlier today and informed you that he had gotten a promotion at his job-one for which he had been working for almost two years now. You were so happy for him that you had squealed loudly, earning questionable looks from your coworkers.

But this happiness was short lived as you had to tell your boyfriend that you won't be able to celebrate with him because you had to work overtime.

In fact it was you who suggested that Yeonjun should go out with his friends tonight and celebrate with them instead. He was first hesitant about this plan but eventually agreed.

And now he was drunk. Choi Yeonjun was drunk.

Yeonjun was rarely someone who lets alcohol take over his senses. He was the type of person who was calm and collected. Someone who was always incharge and in control.

So a slurring and stumbling Yeonjun was a sight you rarely got to witness.

You were about to inquire further when you heard shuffling through the phone accompanied by your boyfriend's dismayed whines.

"Hey Y/N, I'm so sorry Yeonjun got carried away and had a little too much to drink. Don't worry I'll get him home safe." A very concerned and almost scared Soobin apologized to you.

Much to Soobin's relief you just laughed.

"We both know him Bin, he must be really happy, to get this drunk. I would come over but unfortunately I still have some work left, so thanks for taking him home," You waved off the concerned friend and thanked him.

Upon reaching the apartment, you entered the passcode and opened the door gently, careful not to disturb your boyfriend, who you thought would probably be passed out in the bedroom by now.

But once you entered inside you were startled by Yeonjun sitting on the couch, eyes closed and body leaning backwards as he moved his head lightly swaying to the soft music playing the the background.

His undone cuffs, loosened tie, unbuttoned shirt, messy hair sticking out in every possible direction indicated that Yeonjun still was very much under the influence of whatever drinks he had.

The tip of his ears also turned a light shade of pink, which you found adorable.

Yeonjun looked like a mess, a hot one nonetheless.

He didn't notice your presence until you kicked off your heels, jumped on the spot next to him on the couch and wrapped your arms around his middle.

"Hello," You greeted him while nudging his shoulder.

Yeonjun looked down at you.

You expected a reply or a goofy grin, even a smile but instead he just stared before flicking his gaze away.

You sighed inwardly.

While you throughly enjoyed intoxicated Yeonjun, your least favourite part was that whenever he got drunk he became extra petty and demanding, to the point where you had to give in to whatever he wanted.

You knew what this was about but still decided to ask him.

"What's wrong baby?"

"You didn't show up today," Yeonjun mumbled while pouting.

Your heart broke at his words but you reminded yourself not to take it personally.

You knew that out of the two of you it was always Yeonjun who encouraged you to prioritise work over him, even when you didn't want to.

He was so persistent and always insisted on waiting on you whenever you had to take overtime shifts.

Still you felt like shit because you weren't able to be there for him to celebrate such an important milestone in his life.

"I'm sorry Junnie, what can I do to make up to you?" You asked while reaching out for his hand.

Yeonjun titled his head to the side and tapped his chin like a toddler.

"Dance with me," He said finally flashing out a toothy grin.

So he wasn't being serious before. Thank God.

"What" You replied, chuckling.

"Yes now get up," Yeonjun said as he turned up the music and pulled you on your feet.

The next ten or so minutes were spent with the two of you dancing like dorks, well mostly Yeonjun, with his 'cool' moves.

While you were gonna tease Yeonjun relentlessly once he got sober, you were also going to reminisce this adorable and embarrassing side of him.

Breathless, you finally excused yourself from the dance party to take a shower and change.

You got out while drying your hair with a towel ten minutes later and saw Yeonjun standing near the kitchen counter while holding two eggs.

He was staring at them closely and was about to smash them together before you stopped him.

"Hey hey! What're you doing?" You asked grabbing the eggs from his hands.

"About to make scrambled eggs, want some?"

While the idea did please you, you didn't want the entire house to smell like raw eggs for a week by letting a drunkYeonjun cook. So you decided to do it yourself.

You greased the pan and cracked the eggs all while trying to avoid your boyfriend's intense gaze fixated on you.

"Here," you said as you pushed a plate before him and went back to grab one of your own.

Yeonjun's plate was still untouched when you returned from the kitchen.

"Y/N Feed me,"

Ah the demanding side.

You almost burst into laughter at his request but contained yourself to not offend him.

You needed to tape evidence now. Yeonjun wasn't gonna live this one down.

Sitting beside him, you placed a big spoon in his mouth and he chewed quietly. Before the next bite you sneaked in a quick kiss and he made a face at you.

"You are so cute, can I eat you too?,"

Now under normal circumstances, this would turn you on, like so much on.

But right now you knew he wasn't thinking right and probably meant if he could actually eat you.You nodded as he leaned in to lightly graze his teeth at the tip of you nose.

Chuckling, you pushed him back and stood up.

"C'mon let's get you changed and ready for bed, you big baby,"

You picked out a sweatshirt from the closet for Yeonjun and made your way to the room.You saw your boyfriend struggling with his shirt buttons and went up to help him.

He was evidently getting more sober, face no longer red and steps more coordinated. Successfully undoing the shirt, you gently slid it off of him.

That's when you felt the atmosphere shift from being playful and light to something more intense. You looked up at him as he slid his hands around your waist.

"So sorry I wasn't able to be with you, it's just there's so much work. I'm the worst-," Yeonjun placed his finger on your lip to cut you off.

"Don't. It's not your fault, stop apologizing," He said hushing you.

"I'm proud of you," You smiled at him.

Yeonjun replied by placing a full kiss on your mouth, tangling one of his hand through your hair while the other slid downwards below your waist.

You broke the kiss, pushing him and making yeonjun stumble back slightly.

"Still want to eat me?" You teased, noticed a mischievous glint in Yeonjun's eyes.

He shook his head.

"I want to devour you."

----

taglist: @uno7

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shelbyssins · 1 year

Note

HI 💕 I loved Home so much and I was wondering if I could request something?? I had this idea of Tommy x Reader where reader was like a one that got away situation with pre-war Tommy and she married someone else but her husband dies during the war but Tommy didn’t ever know that he just thought she was married.. so time passes and they meet again then you can choose the ending!! Happy or sad you can choose, I hope this makes sense English is not my first language lol!! And if this doesn’t inspire you that’s okay too but know I love your work and am excited to see what you write next!!!💕😇😇

Seasons Change, People Don't ~ Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Language, a sprinkling of angst

Word Count: 6,880

A/N: So this past week or so has just been insanely busy for me and I was struggling to find time to finish this request but here it finally is! I wanted to make this a little more light hearted than my previous request and the idea of Tommy and reader's relationship changing through the seasons really stuck with me so I hope you enjoy! I will be posting some shorter form one shots this week with some different characters so watch out for those! As always, if you read this, let me know what you think! - Rosie x

June 1912

“Tommy!” Y/n shrieked as she bounded over to her friend in the stables. The summer sun was breaking through the thin cover of cloud that drifted over the fields today. Y/n watched as Tommy’s eyes met hers, a soft smile playing on his lips when he recognised her. Y/n pressed a kiss to Tommy’s cheek, smacking her lips louder than she needed to because she knew it wound him up. He made an exaggerated show of wiping the spot she’d kissed and Y/n punched him lightly in response, he laughed gently, feigning hurt as he rubbed his arm.

Tommy was reverently brushing his mare, a bay horse who’s coat gleamed like copper coins under his attention. Tommy was a quiet man, never really as raucous as his brothers could be, but he laughed a lot, those soft little chuckles that never failed to make Y/n blush whenever she pulled one out of him. Tommy was a middle child, but Y/n knew he acted every bit the eldest. Having been blessed with intelligence, his head would soon be burdened with the crown of the Shelby family. Though he did laugh a lot, Y/n could often see the strain he felt as the head of the family, so it was nice to see him relaxed and in his own world.

He was twenty two now, about a head taller than Y/n and she found him so frustratingly handsome. She watched as his solid muscles shifted beneath his crisp shirt with every movement over his mare’s back, all broad shoulders and quiet strength, it was no wonder he had every girl in Small Heath falling over themselves for the chance to go out with him, though he never seemed to care much. Despite the obvious physical attraction, Y/n’s favourite part of him was his bright blue eyes, shining like sapphires in the sun, like stormy seas in the shade. Y/n would like to pretend that she was better than all the other girls, far above so obviously throwing herself at Tommy; but it was hard to push down the magnificently huge crush she had on him when he gazed at her with those pools of blue.

Y/n had known Tommy ever since she could remember, her mother was best friends with his Aunt, Polly Gray, they were practically sisters, and as her father had abandoned them before she was even born, the Shelby family pitched in to help wherever needed. Then, when Y/n was twelve years old, her mother passed and she’d lived with Polly ever since. She knew full well that Tommy only ever deemed her like a sister, but that didn’t stop her dreaming that he’d one day notice her affections.

It didn’t help that Tommy always treated her like a child as well, chiding her when he’d seen her smoking for the first time, always referring to her and her friends as ‘the kids’. Y/n had hoped that now she was eighteen, Tommy might see her in a different light, might start treating her like an adult, but if anything he was even more overprotective.

Just recently he’d refused to let her sit with him and his older brother, Arthur, in the Garrison, telling her, “It’s not proper for young ladies to listen to conversation like ours, you don’t want to be around us when we’re drinking anyway,”. It was kind of humiliating, especially when Arthur had laughed that booming laugh right in her face, so she gave up that night and trailed home, feeling every bit the little girl Tommy thought she was.

“You know, Mark’s been hanging around me a lot recently,” Y/n began, hoping that Tommy might get jealous if she talked about another guy, “Ada says she thinks he likes me,”

Y/n got nothing more than a non committal grunt from Tommy, though his hands had stilled their work over his mare’s mane.

“She thinks he’s going to ask me to go to the Garrison’s jazz night this weekend. As his date,” She added the clarification at the end, searching Tommy’s face for absolutely any reaction.

Tommy obviously wasn’t going to bite, so Y/n decided to try a more direct approach, “You know, if you asked me to go with you instead of him, I’d say yes,”

For all the intelligence he apparently possessed, Tommy just looked at Y/n blankly, a puzzled eyebrow raised as he went back to grooming his horse.

“You know I don’t like jazz, Y/n,” Was all he said on the matter, and Y/n wondered if he really was that bad at picking up her hints or if he was ignoring her attempts at flirtation on purpose.

Y/n was beyond frustrated at the fact that Tommy just didn’t understand what she was trying to say, she had hoped distantly that maybe she had a head start on all the other girls who liked Tommy too; she knew him far better than they did after all. But maybe it was because they’d grown up together that Tommy couldn’t see her as a potential girlfriend, maybe she’d always be just a kid in his eyes. Maybe he had some misguided idea that he was protecting her feelings by pretending to be confused, because perhaps in reality he just wanted to reject her.

“Well maybe I’ll just say yes to Mark then,” Y/n snapped, all together fed up with trying to get her meaning across. She looked away from Tommy then, afraid that if he caught her eye that she’d start blushing.

Tommy didn’t look up at her statement, just scratched at his horse’s ear as he said a bored, “Ok,”

Y/n huffed, storming away in a barely contained stomping tantrum that would rival any fit Finn could throw. She felt utterly defeated as she walked away from Tommy, thoroughly embarrassed that she was a tiny bit jealous of a horse.

March 1913

The sun was warm today, the first hints of spring blooming to bask in its light. The grass, damp with morning dew, caressed Y/n’s bare legs just below her skirt as she walked through the meadow in search of Tommy. Y/n knew he would be out here somewhere, desperate to get the family’s horses out in the fields for some exercise after the previous week’s relentless storms had kept them locked in the stables.

As she climbed her way over a short hill, Y/n’s eyes finally set on Tommy, who was standing under the shade of a tree, smoke from his cigarette billowing out of his mouth. Y/n ambled over, the closer she got she took in more of his appearance. He was dressed only in an undershirt tucked into his trousers, his suspenders hung loose by his legs. Tommy’s hair, not gelled down for once, flopped over by his ears. Y/n swallowed thickly as she remembered that she had a boyfriend waiting for her at home.

“Hi, Tommy,” She said softly, not wanting to startle him out of whatever daydream he seemed to be in.

“Y/n,” He replied simply, blowing some smoke in her face by way of greeting.

Y/n rolled her eyes as she waved the cloud of smoke away, faking a cough as she did.

“You got another one of those for me?” She asked with a gesture towards his cigarette, putting on the sweet voice she always used when she wanted something from Tommy.

He wordlessly opened his packet and she took one gratefully, leaning forward when Tommy flicked his lighter. Tommy moved in close to light Y/n’s cigarette for her, she held her breath as he did, wanting to avoid accidentally breathing in his dizzying scent of fresh soap and a hint of whiskey. Y/n took a long drag of the cigarette, having smoked almost half of it in one go when she finally exhaled. Tommy quirked an eyebrow at her obvious craving for the nicotine but didn’t comment.

Y/n relaxed her shoulders a little as she felt the effects of the smoke calm her rushing blood slightly, sagging against the tree as she pulled at the last dregs of the cigarette. Her mind wandered back to the problem at hand when she flicked the butt away into the grass.

“To what do I owe the pleasure,” Tommy asked as he too finished his smoke.

Y/n sighed and looked off into the distance, her eyes finding two of the Shelby horses grazing at the far side of the field in the shade, “I think Mark is going to propose to me.”

She sighed out a breath and couldn’t stop the way her eyes immediately went to Tommy’s face, waiting for his reaction. Y/n had accepted months ago that Tommy wouldn't ever see her the way she wanted him to, so she shut the door on those feelings and kept them buried under Mark’s affections. But she couldn’t help but worry that the lock on her heart was too weak now that she spoke to Tommy about impending marriage, she was powerless to stop the small hope that Tommy might tell her to say no, knew she’d run right into his arms if he wanted her to.

“I’m not sure what light you think I’ll be able to shed on the matter,” Tommy responded, his bored voice grating on Y/n’s final nerve.

“I should’ve known you’d be no help,” She huffed, pushing away from the tree and smoothing her skirts with angry hands. She made to stomp off back across the field, like she always did when Tommy irritated her, but a warm hand circling the entirety of her wrist stopped her in her tracks.

“Alright, love, alright, stop your tantrum,” Tommy was barely concealing a laugh behind his hand, but Y/n could see the humour clearly in his twinkling eyes.

“Shut up, Tommy,” Y/n replied, articulating her scowl with a harsh shove into Tommy’s side, “I’m just… not sure I want to marry him, at least, not so soon,”

Tommy pushed his hair out of his eyes and seemed to consider for a moment, “Well, don’t you like him?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “Of course I like him, he’s sweet - kind to me, you know... Has a good job,”

“Well there you go, if you like him, why can’t you marry him?” Tommy said, so matter of fact that Y/n might have thought he’d mulled this over before.

“That’s just the thing, Tom. I like him, sure. But I just described him like he’s a pet dog, not a potential husband,” Tommy snorts at that and Y/n can’t help the little giggle that escapes in response, “I just… I always thought I’d be madly in love with whoever I was to marry, I’m scared I’ll regret it if I say yes,”

“What if you say no and regret it?” Tommy asked, his voice as soft as the breeze whispering over Y/n’s skin.

“You’re right. I don’t want to end up alone the rest of my life, and it’s not like anyone else is lining up for the chance to propose to me,” Y/n cringed at how obvious she sounded as she glanced at Tommy, she hunted for any change in those expressive eyes but came back disappointed when there was nothing.

Tommy said nothing more, sensing that Y/n was deep in thought, so they stood there in comfortable silence as the sun climbed higher into the afternoon sky.

Y/n felt bereft at the way her life had turned out. She and Ada used to dream of their weddings like all little girls did. They would excitedly tell each other all the details, what kind of dress they would wear, the colour of the bouquet they would hold, even the flavour of the wedding cake. They would clasp their little hands together and wish their dreams would come true, but there was one dream little Y/n never told Ada. The dream that a handsome blue eyed man would be waiting for her at the end of the aisle, he’d say she looked beautiful as he lifted her veil and they’d vow to belong to each other as long as they both lived.

Y/n's chest tightened sorrowfully as she felt that dream slipping through her fingers. No matter how tight she tried to hold onto it, she knew now that it would never come true.

“Come on,” Tommy spoke up, apparently done with the silence, “We can ride the horses back to the stables and I’ll see you home.”

Y/n felt pained by his words because they came from brotherly concern rather than the love she’d always wanted from him. He walked on ahead of her and Y/n closed her eyes, trying to find a way to barricade the door to her heart just a little more, so that maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much the next time Tommy smiled at her.

November 1913

Autumn came and went silently through the town of Small Heath. The residential area was completely taken up by dull houses and sooty factories, so Y/n always had to go searching for trees just beyond the cut if she wanted to see the change of the leaves before there weren’t any left. All that evidenced Autumn was a slight chill in the air and the constant heavy rain that deluged the narrow streets.

Y/n and Mark had married in that quiet Autumn a month ago in a small ceremony attended by only Mark’s family and the Shelbys, including Tommy. Life since then had been sweet, Y/n had to admit. Mark absolutely doted on her, hanging on her every whim to keep her happy, and Y/n found herself a little besotted with being Mrs Mark Johnson too, much to her surprise. At the wedding reception, Tommy had done nothing more than offer a muttered congratulations and brood in the corner alone for the rest of the night. But for once in her life, Y/n couldn’t find it within herself to actually care what Tommy was doing, thoroughly intent on enjoying a day that was all about her.

Winter then took Autumn’s place. Freezing air bit at bare faces, the town blanketed by a persistent cover of grey cloud. Y/n pulled her coat even tighter around herself as she made her way to the Garrison, praying that she’d find Tommy there since he’d been putting great effort into avoiding her recently. As she neared the place she hoped she’d find the second oldest Shelby, Y/n felt firmly resolute about her plan to talk to him, as she knew his stubbornness all too well. She knew that he’d let the silence between them stretch on until the end of time if she didn’t do something about it. So she steeled herself as she reached the heavy doors of the Garrison and walked inside.

She was immediately hit by the familiar smell of stale alcohol and tobacco permeating the air, barely containing a shudder as her senses tried to get used to the offending scent. Y/n quickly scanned the main area and didn’t find her target, so she walked over to Harry, the barkeep, and smiled at him as he finished wiping a glass.

“Hi, Harry. Is Tommy here?” She asked, hoping he’d at least caught sight of him today.

“He’s in there,” Harry replied, glancing over at the snug and nodding in that direction.

“Thanks, Harry,” Y/n gave her best sweet smile as payment, feeling a little bad about not buying a drink.

She pulled open the door to the snug and felt triumphant as she finally laid eyes on Tommy. He didn’t even bother to try and conceal the heavy sigh he huffed when he made eye contact with her, strengthening Y/n’s resolve that she would confront him about his avoidance even further.

“Hello, Thomas,” Y/n opened the conversation, inviting herself to sit at the table with him.

Tommy immediately brought out his pack of cigarettes, lit one and hastily shoved it between his lips as if he was trying to stop himself from speaking.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, smoke flowing out of his mouth with every word.

Y/n was puzzled at the question, “Is this not a public place?” She asked her own question back but didn’t wait for a response, “I’ve been trying to meet with you for weeks now, Tommy, but you always had some convenient excuse to avoid me,”

Tommy kept his face even and calm, the only tell that he’d been found out being a minute twitch of his lip, “There’s always business to attend to these days, Y/n,” He offered his meagre reasoning, another hasty excuse to hopefully placate her.

“Business,” Y/n couldn’t help but scoff, “Tommy, we haven’t had a conversation as long as this one since my wedding!” She didn’t miss the way Tommy’s shoulders straightened at the mention of the wedding. Curious.

“Why have you really been avoiding me, Tom?” She asked, softening her voice a little in hopes that Tommy would be more liable to answer truthfully.

But just as he’d opened his mouth to speak, in waltzed Arthur, the very embodiment of awkward timing, barrelling in like a rearing stallion, voice booming as loud as gunfire. Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile that rose to her lips as Arthur pressed a rough kiss to the top of her head.

“And how’s married life treating the new Mrs Johnson, eh?” Arthur articulated his thinly veiled innuendo with a suggestive wink.

“Just fine, thank you, Arthur,” Y/n replied with a smirk, quite enjoying the way Arthur’s eyebrows rose into his hairline, surprised that she’d actually played along.

“I bet there’ll be tiny little versions of you running around Small Heath in no time at all, eh, love?” He garbled around the cork of a whiskey bottle he’d pulled out with his teeth, pouring the amber liquid into his glass.

“Well, that might not actually be the case,” Y/n smiled a little sadly, watching as Tommy sat up a little straighter, quirking a confused brow as a means to ask her to explain.

“Mark has been looking at a property in the countryside, about an hour away from here. If nobody outbids us we’ll be moving come New Year,” Y/n looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting themselves into knots as she tried to avoid Tommy’s penetrating eyes.

Arthur hummed but didn’t say anything on the matter, and Y/n knew Tommy wasn’t going to offer anything new, recognising that the contemplative look on his face meant silence for the foreseeable. So she felt compelled to continue on explaining herself.

“With all this talk of war getting closer and closer to us, we really want to settle down and start a family sooner rather than later,” She rambled, feeling a little interrogated even though neither man had said anything yet.

As Y/n flicked her eyes over to Tommy apprehensively, she saw that his jaw was completely set and he was gripping his whiskey glass so tight that his knuckles were white and his fist was shaking a little.

Y/n looked at him quizzically, trying to make him meet her eyes by some sort of telepathy, but Tommy’s gaze remained firmly fixed on his alcohol. She couldn’t understand why he’d be angry with her about this, her move hadn’t come as a shock to anyone who actually spoke to her often; it had been on the cards pretty much as soon as they were married. Maybe it was because Tommy thought she’d be happier here, maybe it was because he didn’t like her husband; how was she to know if he rebuffed her every attempt at communication?

Silence continued on for a minute before Arthur, characteristically oblivious to the tension, piped up again, “Well! The countryside, eh? Sounds marvellous, love,”

Tommy raised his eyebrows, as if in disbelief, and shook his head, dragging on the last fragments of his cigarette. Y/n muttered a quiet thanks to Arthur as he stood, saying something about another bottle of whiskey from his private collection to celebrate. Her eyes followed Arthur’s slightly drunken gait as he made his way out of the snug.

“Thomas, why are you sulking at me?” She interrogated immediately as the door shut.

Tommy stamped out his cigarette in the ash try, “I’m not sulking,” he replied, frowning.

“Well, you’re doing an excellent impression,” Y/n countered, sighing when Tommy’s lips didn’t even attempt a smile, “I just don’t understand why you can’t even pretend to be happy for me at least,”

Tommy’s shoulders sagged at that and he finally lifted his head up to meet Y/n’s eyes, “Don’t get upset ok?” He began carefully, and just by his tone of voice, Y/n knew she absolutely was going to get upset, “I just didn’t think you’d marry so soon, especially after our conversation in spring, you said he was like a pet dog, not a husband. Now all of a sudden you’re moving away? I know you Y/n, you love our town, what if you hate it in the country?”

Y/n’s face flushed hot, she was utterly incensed that Tommy thought these things about her marriage and apparently just chose to never say a word about it, “Firstly, if I remember correctly about that conversation in spring, you offered me no actually helpful advice when I was obviously asking for it!” Y/n was careful not to shout, so her voice came out like a hiss, “Then you practically encouraged me to marry him! Now you want to act as if you’re the font of all knowledge when it comes to my marriage.”

Tommy bit his lip and scrubbed a rough hand over his face, the way he did when he was trying not to get angry, “I just can’t help but think that your decisions have been too hasty, Y/n,” he supplied, any sweetness in his voice long gone.

The words wounded Y/n deeper than anything he’d said to her before, she felt the tears pricking at her eyes as she tried not to show that she was upset. All she’d ever wanted was this married life with him, but now that she’d moved on and accepted that it was never going to happen, Tommy chose to criticise her every decision, blissfully ignorant of the fact that she had worked so hard to get over him.

“I could hardly wait for you forever, Tom,” Y/n whispered, suddenly feeling exhausted as all the memories of her relationship with Tommy flashed in front of her eyes, she couldn’t help but feel it was such a waste, pining after him for all that time. Such a waste to crave the affections of a man who didn’t pay enough attention to her to notice she was utterly in love with him.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Tommy finally said, looking away from Y/n’s tearful eyes.

“If you had such strong opinions on the choices I made, who I was going to marry, where I was going to live, maybe you should’ve voiced them while you still could’ve done something about it,” Y/n stood as soon as she finished her speech, walking towards the door when she was certain Tommy wasn’t going to speak again.

Tommy didn’t call after her when she left.

February 1917

The fire crackled distantly as Y/n stared blankly into the flames, amber light casting lonely shadows onto the walls of her cottage home. The room was near silent, but the thud of her heart in her ears was almost deafening.

She clutched a telegram in her trembling hands and didn't bother to fight her tears as she read it for the fourth or fifth time, hoping this time she might make sense of the words written there on the page. But she didn’t know whether she couldn’t understand the sentences or just couldn’t believe the words were true.

Before the war hit England in July 1914, Y/n and Mark had spent a wonderfully happy, albeit short, married life. A few months before Mark was shipped off to France like every other man fit to fight, he worked as a clerk in the postal office of their little village, while Y/n looked after their house. She tended the garden too and often found peace planting flowers and thinking up new arrangements. Mark would come home every evening and greet Y/n with a kiss on her cheek before they sat down to eat dinner. Life was peaceful and picture perfect, no fighting, no drunkards lining the streets, no constant threat of crime. Y/n would be lying if she said she didn’t miss the chaos of Small Heath at least a little bit, but somewhere between their move to the country and Mark’s constant devotion, Y/n well and truly fell in love with him.

Now, as Y/n looked around her desolate sitting room, she realised she had absolutely nothing to prove that their love had ever happened. No matter how hard they had tried, God wouldn’t bless them with a child, and in the suffocating silence of this house, Y/n suddenly ached with longing to hear the patter of little feet running into her arms. At least she’d be comforted by the knowledge that a piece of their father resided still in this cottage, could look at their faces and still see his eyes looking back. But there was nothing, just utter loneliness.

Up until now, Y/n had grasped at any small shred of hope that Mark would return, ever since he left three years ago. She wrote to him every week, prayed for him every night, even though she wasn’t sure there was anyone listening anymore. She wished for his safe return and dreamed of the day he would warm their bed again. But now, there was no hope left in all the Earth that Y/n could beg for. There was no marriage, no husband to speak of as Y/n sat completely alone in this world, still clinging to that damned letter, her tears ruining the ink that spelled the end of her life.

Mark Johnson - Killed In Action.

July 1919

Y/n stepped off the train and took a heaving breath in as she tried to calm her nerves. Tendrils of anxiety curled around her chest as she carefully walked up the steps to leave the station, she knew she was only a short walk away from her home town and the odd need to run away was rising through her body.

Only the month prior, Y/n had sold her cottage in the countryside, finally accepting that nothing was keeping her tied to that place anymore, accepting that she couldn’t fit in without Mark. In the village, every corner she turned was a reminder of her husband, the route he used to walk to work, their favourite spot in the park, the station where she'd kissed him for the last time. She twisted her wedding ring around her finger nervously, she’d kept it on even after Mark's memorial service, it seemed a simple service she could do her husband to wear it, to remember him every day.

Y/n decided to rent a flat just down the road from where she’d grown up, and the familiarity of the streets comforted her as she entered her new home, dropping her few belongings in the hallway. It wasn’t much, but as a woman alone Y/n didn’t really see the point of buying a big house with no one else to keep her company. She sagged against the door, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to get a whiskey, so she decided to leave the flat for a while and hoped that the Garrison would clear her head.

Almost as soon as she opened the door to the pub, Y/n could hear John’s familiar voice shouting over to someone at the bar and her eyes immediately landed on all of the Shelbys sat around a table, drinking various spirits and pints of ale. The relief she felt as she counted the boys and noted that they were all intact and alive was brief, she couldn't believe her bad luck that she had run into every Shelby the minute she set foot back in Small Heath. Y/n quickly scurried up to the bar, hopefully unnoticed by the family, deciding that she definitely wasn't having this reunion sober.

She had barely taken a sip of her whiskey when a voice called to her from across the room, "Well isn't this a sight for sore bloody eyes," Y/n heard Polly's familiar drawl and didn't need to look up from her glass to know all the attention was suddenly on her. Y/n gave up on the dainty sipping and knocked back the rest of her whiskey as the Shelbys began to descend like vultures to their prey. She focussed on the way the alcohol spread through her body, warming her and giving her that little bit more confidence as she gave a tight hug to her surrogate mother, "Hi, Pol," she said with a smile.

"Now what the 'ell are you doing back 'ere, love?" Arthur spoke as he nodded to the barkeep to refill your glass.

Y/n sighed, overwhelmed by the sudden questioning even though it was only Arthur who had asked anything, "You ok?" Polly whispered, squeezing her arm. Y/n nodded quickly and took another gulp of whiskey, "I wasn't counting on seeing you all so suddenly, I only got here half an hour ago!" She laughed nervously, "But now's as good a time as any to say I've moved back here. Surprise!" There was a chorus of congratulations and happy remarks, but there was only one person's face Y/n searched for, and she finally felt like she was home when she found Tommy's blue eyes.

He looked different, older definitely, but there was a cold harshness in his eyes that Y/n had never seen before. She shivered at what those eyes might have seen in France.

"It's good to have you back round here, Y/n," Tommy said lowly, and Y/n felt like everyone else in the room had faded away as she let Tommy's presence wash over her.

"Let's get a bottle to celebrate!" Arthur boomed, ruffling her hair like he did when she was a child, "Where's that husband of yours?" Y/n sucked in a sharp breath at the tactless question, fighting back tears as she tried to remember that it wasn't their fault if they didn't know Mark had passed.

"Probably at home looking after the kids, eh, Y/n?" John chimed in, nausea rising in Y/n's stomach as she tried to get a word in edgewise before someone said something they would regret.

"Nah, he's probably avoiding the pub, you know he can't handle his booze," Tommy was the one to pipe up that time and Y/n hated the cruel edge to his laugh, she'd hoped he'd grown up enough to get over his childish dislike of her husband.

"Tommy," Polly warned in that low, threatening voice of hers, picking up on Y/n's quickened breathing and tearful eyes. But Tommy carried on laughing, oblivious to his Aunt's insistence that they stop making fun, "You have to admit, he's always been a bit of a boring bastard," and there was the last straw. Before she'd even told her arm to move, Y/n's hand was flying at Tommy's face, slapping him right across the cheek so hard his head actually looked like it might detach from his neck. It happened so quickly Y/n wasn't quite sure if she had actually done it or not, but the boys had stopped laughing instantaneously, and the way Polly physically flinched told her she had genuinely just smacked Tommy Shelby. "How dare you," Y/n hissed before she could think better of it, her voice cold as steel, "My husband is dead, Thomas, have some fucking respect," The entire pub had gone silent, all staring intently at the scene unfolding, but wincing at Y/n's words, like they were watching a car accident happen right in front of them, too morbidly curious to look away. To his credit, John looked thoroughly ashamed of himself even though he hadn't said anything insulting and Arthur's eyes looked like they might pop out of his head, Y/n might have laughed had the cause been different. "Y/n, love, I'm sorry, we-" Arthur reached out as if to comfort her, but he cut off his sentence when Y/n flinched away from his touch, too overwhelmed to be crowded by him. She didn't know when she'd started to cry, but tears were flooding down her cheeks and pooling on the floorboards at her feet.

"Right. John, Arthur? Time to go," Polly insisted, ever the observant one, she knew that Tommy and Y/n had some talking to do. Neither man moved at first, but all it took was for Polly to level them with her menacing glare and they were hurrying out of the pub faster than a horse at full gallop.

Tommy and Y/n stood in silence for a moment, Y/n being too scared to speak because she desperately didn't want to acknowledge that she'd just slapped him.

"Y/n, I'm so sorry," Tommy finally whispered, and his voice was so genuinely sincere that it broke the final shred of dignity that Y/n cared to hold onto, and she started to cry louder than she had even let herself cry at Mark's memorial. Tommy opened his arms and that was all the prompting Y/n needed to fall straight into his chest, she sniffled as he cradled her head against his steadily beating heart, he shushed her softly and held her tight, "Come on now, love, let's go in the other room yeah? We can talk away from all the prying eyes,"

Y/n allowed herself to be led into the snug, struck by how familiar it was even after all these years, Tommy lowered her carefully onto the couch, as if he was afraid she might fall over.

"I'm sorry for hitting you, Tommy," Y/n babbled as soon as her breathing evened out, "It's not your fault, you didn't know Mark was dead,"

Tommy rubbed his cheek and smiled lightly, "Don't apologise, I deserved it. You've got some power in that hand, you know? Not sure any man has ever hit me that hard," Y/n giggled despite herself, sniffing and wiping at her face to dry the tears.

"So how come you're moving back here?" Tommy asked as she sagged into the couch, he avoided asking about Mark's death, sensing that she'd talk about it in her own time.

"Everything back at the village just reminds me of him, I couldn't stand it. Every time I left the house I couldn't stop thinking about how I waved him off to France, to fucking war, and didn't know he was never coming back. So I just isolated myself, only left the house to buy food, never made any friends because I couldn't bring myself to walk around without him by myside, I couldn't walk around as if nothing had happened," Tommy just hummed, knowing there was more to say and just waiting for Y/n to go on, "So when I finally sold the house, I decided to make a new start somewhere I knew would be easy to fit in,"

"You were right, you know," Y/n laughed into the quiet of the room, "I really did miss it round here. I missed how unpredictable it was, the routine of the village was hard to get used to but..." She teared up all over again as her husband's smiling face flashed in her mind, "I really did love him,"

"I'm sorry," was all Tommy said as Y/n swallowed around the lump in her throat.

"I didn't think I'd fall in love with him so deeply. At the start, my main reason for marrying him was because I thought I had no other option," Y/n confessed, not entirely sure why she was spilling all of her secrets to the man she used to love.

"I always thought you liked him a lot either way," Tommy said, a confused edge to his tone, "You used to talk about him constantly,"

Y/n laughed a genuine laugh at that, reminded suddenly of herself at seventeen, "I only talked about him so much because I thought it would make you jealous,"

Tommy's head shot up at that, and Y/n was once again concerned about the structural integrity of his neck, "Jealous?" He reiterated, pausing the rolling of a new cigarette to stare at Y/n expectantly.

"Yeah, I used to hint at you all the time about my very massive crush on you. But for all the good your intelligence apparently does, you never got it. Or, you know, you were just trying to let me down gently,"

Tommy looked like he was about to choke, or possibly stop breathing all together, "Hold on, you liked me?"

Y/n rolled her eyes at Tommy, assuming he was overreacting on purpose, "I know, it's embarrassing Tommy, don't make fun of me. But yes, I didn't just like you. I loved you, Tommy, ever since I was eleven,"

"Oh my god," Tommy breathed, suddenly struggling to get his rolling paper to stick.

"What? There's no need to be dramatic, Thomas," Y/n said, voice snippy due to her slight mortification.

"I just... I liked you too, for years, but I thought you didn't have any feelings for me since you were going out with Mark,"

Y/n was sure her blood had turned cold in her veins, either that or someone must have dumped a bucket of ice over her head, "Are you serious right now? Tommy, you should've just told me! I was being so obvious with my hints and you just refused to see it!"

Tommy looked indignant as he gave up on rolling his cigarette, "Well, why didn't you just tell me!" Y/n couldn't deny that that was an excellent point, "Anyway, I was sure someone as beautiful as you couldn't possibly have feelings for someone like me,"

Y/n slumped in her seat, overwhelmed by the revelations, she smiled as she imagined how she would've reacted to this information when she was a teenager all those years ago.

"Oh, Tommy, you're an idiot!" Tommy started to laugh and Y/n couldn't help soon joining in, feeling weightless for the first time since the war. She gazed into Tommy's eyes again, searched for the same look they'd had when he was in his early twenties, even though she knew she wouldn't find it. He'd changed so much, they both had, but in that moment she wondered if they really could just be the same two kids who loved each other so much, couldn't help but wonder how their lives would've played out if they'd both had the courage to admit their feelings.

Y/n didn't know when it happened, but their faces were suddenly only a hair's width apart, she could feel his breath whispering over her mouth, he smelled sweet despite the tobacco that clung to him. Y/n's eyes fluttered closed out of instinct, her heart thudding as she let herself be intoxicated by Tommy's entire being. But just as their noses touched, she sprung away from Tommy like he'd burned her.

"I'm sorry, that was-"

"No, don't apologise," Y/n cut him off before he could start spiralling, "Tommy... I've loved you since the day I met you, and... I think I always will love you, no matter what happens, or what has happened. You mean the world to me," she stared at her hands, afraid of the vulnerability she felt as she laid her heart at Tommy's feet, "But you have to understand... I loved my husband too, and I can't help but feel like I'm betraying him, because I'm falling for you so fast all over again. I'd - I'd feel so guilty if I rushed into something with you when he loved me so much before he passed. I can't just forget him."

"I won't ask you to," Tommy replied, tentatively putting his warm hand on Y/n's knee, making her look up at him, "But I have loved you too, and I love you right now, and I'll love you tomorrow. I won't ever be able to forgive myself if I let you get away again, not now that I know you feel the same. I want to be with you, whenever you're ready. We can take it slow,"

Y/n was breathless, like all the air in the room had suddenly been sucked out, she was completely consumed by thousands of thoughts running through her head all at once, "What does slow look like?" She whispered, entirely swept up by the ocean of love in Tommy's eyes.

"It starts like this," He murmured softly, taking Y/n by the hand and brushing his lips against her knuckles, "Then it might continue if you'll accompany me to dinner soon?"

"I'd like that Tommy," Y/n replied, a wave of relief flowing through her body, grateful that she could find love again at her own pace.

Tommy leaned in slowly and placed the most gentle and reverent kiss on Y/n's cheek, looking so deeply into her eyes that she thought he might be gazing directly at her soul, his voice was full of adoration as he said, "I promise I won't ever let you go,"

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