#i also think he would want to keep a piece of his mother close
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Dress Me, Then Kiss Me
Isaac x Reader
Isaac's in love with his model
Designer x Model AU
Idea is based on something my best friend said and I couldn't stop thinking about it but with Isaac and Pickle! She once told me she'd design clothes and I'd model for her if our lives don't work out 🥹 She's never gonna see this BUT IF YOU DO FIND MY ACCOUNT BITCH LEAVE GET OUT OF HERE THIS ISNT FOR YOU I KNOW YOUR ASS BE SNEAKING AROUND (i love you tho)
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Rhoades, a popular name in the fashion industry, an iconic brand and company, and it's blooming new designer, Isaac Rhoades. The company was founded and built by his mother who took the fashion industry by the neck and dominated runways with her stunning designs and creative eye for clothing. Naturally, Isaac was inspired by his mother's dedication and innovative approach, this is the reason he is the talented designer he is today.
From an early age he found himself immersed in her magazines and sketchbooks, in awe of what her hands were capable of. The same two hands that held and fed him, were also able to transform raw fabrics into beautiful pieces of clothing- into art. From a young age he knew what he wanted in his life, he wanted to be like her.
Though, Isaac doesn't follow exactly in her footsteps. When his mother entrusted the position to him, Isaac steered the company in a slightly different direction, adding a modern twist to the classic, elegance that was already their image. An evolution that maintained the brand's morals while remaining classy. Much like you, which is why you became his ambassador.
Isaac first laid eyes on you at an interview he sat in on, and to this day, he thanks whatever higher power had his mother insist he selected models himself. When he saw you, he just knew he had to have you. The way you carried yourself, your captivating smile and overall aura was unlike anything he's ever seen before yet perfectly aligned with the vision he had for Rhoades. And somehow, even though you carried yourself with such grace and poise, you were able to interact with the people around you in a laid-back manner complemented your personality seamlessly.
You didn't officially speak to Isaac until much later, after you've walked shows and campaigns for the brand. You swore he was going to fire you, but he offered the complete opposite, a promotion. Not just any promotion- Isaac wanted YOU to be the face of his brand. It changed your career forever, and now you work for Rhoades and Rhoades only.
Since then, Isaac has become a close friend of yours. Often, he'd reach out to you for advice and opinion on his newest ideas and design, or to just sit and chat over tea while he brainstorms ideas.
What you didn’t know was that Isaac loved having you there because his ideas were all about you. They revolved around you. With you sitting in the same room as him, it was easy to imagine colours that would complement your skin colour or designs that would suit your figure. Having spent so much time with him, the spark between you two was undeniable, but neither of you acted on it. Not until now.
Impatient to see you, Isaac turns to the next best thing, a number of interviews you've done and random behind the scenes videos all carefully sorted into a playlist. He took the opportunity to look at the last video he had added but didn't get a chance to watch.
He clicks the play button, spinning his chair around to grab his pencil. The video quickly fills his screen, your smile fills his screen. You were walking along a crowded street, navigating your way through a sea of reporters and cameras.
"Excuse me! What is it like being the face of Rhoades?" A woman yells.
"A dream, that's the best way I could describe it." You tell her before continuing forward.
"Isaac rarely ever shows up to public events, do you know what that is?" Someone questions as you pass by.
"That's a question you'll need to ask him darling, I have no idea." You laugh, keeping your eyes focused on the person you're talking to.
That ticked Isaac off, it always does, the way you look at reporters.
"Why do you think Rhoades fits you so well? Is Mr. Rhoades catering his designs to you?" The question striked your interest and your face lit up.
"Oh, that's a good question! But no, I don't think I'm that special," you giggled, flashing the camera a charming smile. "I think I was selected because I fit into the aesthetic? I guess? of the brand, you know?"
Isaac scoffs at his screen, at the way your eyes gleamed with genuine interest and unspoken sincerity at these people who you don't even know. He'd never admit it, but the jealousy is boiling over inside him and he wishes you looked at him like that. He wants you to look at him that way. He wishes you knew the amount of inspiration you gave him, and how special you were to his brand. While he doesn't stray from the legacy his mother carved, he seems to be carving you alongside her creations.
You continued along, finally at the door of the building you were approaching.
As you're about to step inside someone shouted behind you, "What are you wearing today?"
You turn around with a playful smile, "I'll give you a hint. It starts with 'R'." With a wink, you disappeared behind the doors and the video ends.
He loved that. Of course, he hated that it wasn't directed at him, but your playful attitude always made his heart beat a little fast, even if it was in his screen. Isaac throws his head back, the back of his palm against his eyes as he lets the chair spin freely.
"What is happening to me?" He sighs, only to be disturbed by a knock on his door.
You didn't wait for him to answer, pushing the door open and marching in.
"Isaac! Good morning!" You greet him with a broad smile and a box of his favourite pastries.
Isaac hurries to straighten his posture, sitting up and stuttering a response. "G-good morning"
"So I know you said you wanted to get the ball rolling on that outfit for the gala in a few months, but you've worked so hard," you whined, emphasizing your words with a small pout, "I think you should take a break for today and we can just- I dunno- chill and have some breakfast!"
"That's really sweet of you but I wanted to at least start sketching today."
"Awww come on," you threw your bag on the round sofa in his office and take a seat, "Let's at least take a break for this morning, kay?"
You stare at him, patiently waiting for a response. He hesitates, then lets out a sigh. "Fine you win, breakfast it is."
You silently cheer, knowing that he probably skipped breakfast as he sometimes does.
"Uh I forgot to get us something to drink though." You laugh nervously.
Isaac shakes his head, "Stay here I'll go get us something from the kitchen."
He opens the door, giving you one last look before disappearing outside.
You stayed in the same spot as you waited, but it didn't take long for boredom to set in, so you got up from your seat to walk around his office as if you haven't seen it hundreds of times already. This time however, something was different. The video paused on his laptop looked very familiar, so you move closer, taking a seat in his chair to investigate. And what do you know? It's you! It's a video of you.
"Why's he looking at a video of me?" You mumble to yourself, and the doors slowly opens in front of you.
"I decided to make us some coffee. Tea would've been nice too, but I couldn't find the-" He stops mid-sentence, realising his mistake.
"You're looking at videos of me?" You tilt your head to the side, giving him a lopsided grin.
"Wait that's not what it looks like!" He rushes over to close the tab.
"Really? Are you stalking me Isaac?"
"Nonsense, those are videos released to the public." He huffs.
"Oh, so what is it then? Do you just like looking at me?" You tease, unaware of the ladder you were climbing up. "Imagine the media got ahold of this!" You smirk, “‘Isaac Rhoades infatuated with his Employee!’ Quite a headline, isn't it?"
You laugh at yourself, amused by your own words.
"And what if they did find out? What if they did publish something like that? Would it be wrong for me to be 'infatuated with you?'" He quotes, leaning down slightly to face you.
"I was just jo-"
"That doesn’t answer my question, Pickle. Would it be wrong if I did have a crush on you?"
"I- I don't", you swallow your words, unsure of how to answer him.
"You don't?" He questions waiting for a response that never comes.
"How about this," Isaac pulls the chair closer to him by the armrests until your right under his nose. "Would you be against it?"
His face is serious, and his eyes are intense, focused on you. It makes your heart speed up and your thoughts tangle.
"I... wouldn't" You whisper, your voice barely audible.
"I didn't get that." He smirks, tilting his head slightly.
"I said I wouldn't." You repeat, gazed fixed on his lips.
"Good, because I do."
"Wha-" He cuts you off with a gentle kiss and your hands reach up to grab onto of his shirt.
"I've been wanting to tell you for so long." He grumbles. "I hate the way you look at all those reporters like they matter so much when they don't. I want you to keep looking at me like that because I matter to you right?"
He nudges you for an answer, placing a kiss against your ear.
"You do," you gently tug at his shirt, pulling his lips down to yours. "You mean so much to me."
He obliges, kissing you again. His fingers work their way into your hair, thumb gently caressing your cheek. You're so lost in the moment, butterflies fluttering in your chest like you were a lovesick teenager all over again. Isaac pulls you closer, determined to keep you close for as long as possible but unfortunately, there's a knock on the door that interrupts you both.
"Isaac" The sweet voice outside calls, pushing the door open while both you and Isaac scramble away from each other.
"Oh- you're here too dear? How are you?" His mother smiles at you, pulling your gaze from his laptop as though you were focused on it all along. "Come give me a hug!"
You get out of Isaac's chair to walk over to her with open arms. She gives you a kiss on the cheek before tucking a strand of your hair behind your ears. "Your hair is a little messy, and your face is all warm, are you okay dear? Are you not feeling well?" She asked, worry laced in her voice.
"No no I'm okay! I promise."
"Oh then how-" Her eyes move between your flushed cheeks and then to Isaac- who has his back turned to his mother as he mindlessly skims through files. It was rather obvious he was pretending to look for something. "You know, I think I'll just come back later. I wouldn’t want to interrupt you two."
She smiles then nods at you before leaving the room. As the door clicked shut behind her, you sink into the sofa, sighing in relief.
"That was close! Did you think she knew?" You asked looking over to Isaac.
"I have no idea." He replies, walking across the room to settle beside you. "And I'm sorry, I should've been more careful and locked the door."
"I don't think either of us knew that was going to happen." You assured him, intertwining you fingers with his, and offering a comforting smile. "So, what now?"
"Now, I'd like to ask you to go out with me, maybe later tonight, after our meeting if you have some time?" He takes your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss on the back of it.
"I'd love that." You reply, looking at him with eyes full of adoration.
"I'd also like to kiss you again, but the coffee is getting cold."
You laugh at his, opting to kiss him on the cheek for now.
-
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Idk if there's a canon answer to if wangji the man or wangji the guqin came 1st but my head canon is:
When A-Zhan got his guqin he spent weeks thinking of a name worthy of a spiritual instrument. While visiting Mama Lan A-Huan brought up A-Zhan's struggle and intending to tease him for his (failed) attempts at being so serious/otherworldly she suggested to name it wangji. A-Zhan immediately rejected the name(definitely without pouting) only to secretly pick wangji later
Years later when it's time for A-Zhan to take a courtesy name he took the name Wangji bc its the closest to having his mother give his courtesy name :')
#Lwj is so sentimental with naming things#(the bunnies/wangxian.mp3/sizhui)#i can't imagine him carelessly naming his guqin after himself or vise versa#i also think he would want to keep a piece of his mother close#mama lan#lan zhan#lan huan#wangji#mdzs#cql#wangji the guqin#mdzs head canon#lan clan#madam lan#ramblings
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A red thread tying you to me (Charles Leclerc)
There was something pulling you to him and Charles was ready to act on it
Note: english is not my first language. I loved the blurb and now we have a big piece too!
Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!
my masterlist
Tw: mentions the death of reader's father's and Charles' father's deaths
Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3
"The congress is just outside of Milan, the exact city and details are in there", your colleague Lucia offered as she flickered though the pages, "I've been a couple of times before and it's really enriching, I just know you'll love the students and the department head - she was my supervisor for a couple of years".
"It sounds great", you looked at the panel information and then the travel details, "it's such a shame you can't come with me though, but I also wouldn't want to risk your little dude showing up and have me as your midwife", you chuckled as Lucia rubbed her baby bump.
"You're capable of many things, Y/N, but I would prefer if the fate of my baby and my underparts was in the hands of a professional!", she bumped your shoulder, "and the area is really nice too, I'm sure you'll find something to keep you busy during the weekend".
"I have plans, actually, I'll be fine I think", you smiled.
Like Lucia predicted, you had a great time in the conference and the guest lecture you gave was applauded and discussed for nearly an hour after you showed the last slide of the presentation, topics going back and forth until everyone had to absolutely leave the room before the next lecture began. For now, you'd get to enjoy the region, drinking some wine and taking in the views you recognised.
The park where your father used to take you didn't look too different. The slides didn't look rusty anymore, and the swing was a bright red colour as you sat on it once you didn't see any other kid around who might want to use them and let yourself feel the breeze on your face and hair as you kicked your legs in and out. Your father used to make you feel like you could touch the sky with how high he helped you go, "you're going to touch the clouds, mia piccola stella", he would say and you would laugh loudly.
You missed him every single day, but over the years, your grief allowed you remember all of the happy moments you lived with him, cherishing them close to your heart. Spending the whole weekend in Monza and attending the race was something you hadn't done without him since he passed away. The circuit was your father's favourite - "it's the fans, Y/N, there's a thrill in the air that no other circuit has - Tifosi cover the streets, they're all you can see around town and it's magical almost" he would say to you, so when you noticed the conference was in the area and coincided with the Grand Prix weekend, both you and your mother agreed you should take the opportunity.
On your way back to the hotel, you stopped by the track, wondering what the preparations for a race weekend looked like after so many years. You still followed the sport, but you never got the chance to catch this on television.
"Oh my, oh my", you heard someone say beside where you were standing, "I can't believe my eyes, it's Y/N Y/L/N".
Turning around you spotted Salvatore, one of the mechanics your father worked with. He also had kids around your age and you would often play together whenever you were both in the garage for the weekend.
"Salvatore!", you cheered, giving him a big smile after kissing each of his cheeks, "you better believe your eyes then".
"It's been so long since I've seen you last", he recalled, rubbing your back softly. You and your mother had gone to Maranello for a tribute ceremony the team had for your father - that had been the last time he saw you.
"It has been, yes - I'm sorry", you apoligised. You told the team you'd be around and so much had happened since and you only watched it through a screen instead of living it in the flesh.
"It's okay, it was the time you needed - What brought you to Monza this weekend?", he wondered as he walked inside the paddock with you, scanning his card and getting you both in.
"A work trip actually - I finished a conference yesterday and I also gave a lecture at the university", you nodded, "and my father always loved Monza", you smiled at the memory, "he knew how cliché that sounded, but he always said there wasn't a better weekend on the calendar. And I've missed the rush, too", you offered, letting the tears flow freely and accepting them even though you were in the middle of the paddock, loud noises coming from every angle as the teams prepared the finishing touches for the upcoming race.
"He's very proud of you, I'm sure", Salvatore comforted, "and everyone will be happy to see you here - the little girl with the high pigtails is a grown woman now who attends conferences and gives lectures, who would've known?", he joked as you stepped inside the garage.
"Is this little troublemaker Y/N Y/L/N?", one of the oldest mechanics said after he applied a sticker to the halo.
When your father took you to the races, everyone knew they had fun guaranteed with you, always pulling pranks and laughing loudly, "my troublemaker days are over, I'm a responsible woman now", you chuckled, giving a quick wave to everyone before greeting everyone individually.
"Do you have tickets for this weekend?", Fred asked. Even though he had just met you, it was clear to him how much you mattered to everyone who worked with your father, "we can get you a pass, I'm sure".
"I have grandstand tickets", you stated.
"Silvia!", the team principal called the woman, making her approach him and rub your arm kindly, "do we have any guest passes left?".
"Let me check", Silvia mumbled, "we have one left, actually! Charles didn't even notice he asked us to save a ticket for his mother twice - I'll get it for you, it's in the meeting room upstairs", she smiled.
"Charles will also be very happy to see you around, did you tell him you were coming?", Salvatore mentioned.
"I haven't actually - I've been really busy", you mumbled.
You met the monégasque driver when he was Scuderia Ferrari's development driver and Prema Racing driver in Formula Two, accidentally running into him in the dining area of the hospitality and ending up spending most of his free time there throughout the whole weekend.
Quickly, it became a tradition to do so whenever he was over and whenever he was done with his Formula Two duties and you happened to be at the same track.
When you stopped attending races because the memories were too painful, you lost contact, opting to react to eachother's Instagram stories every now and again and sending quick messages through the social media app.
"The boys arrive today, but they're only coming to the track tomorrow", Fred added, "you'll have plenty of time to catch up".
Charles had finally arrived to the hotel after all the flights and drives, thankful that there weren't many fans around already and he could get inside without a hitch, checking in and getting his room keys.
"Hold it, per favore!", he said to the person on the lift, dreaming of the changing from his travel outfit and the bed waiting for him. When his hand helped him inside the metal door, he couldn't believe his eyes, "Y/N?".
He could remember the last time he saw you. He had just started his first season as a Formula One driver for Alfa Romeo and you had come back to the paddock for the first race of the season like you promised you would. He sat with you whenever he had a little break, you caught up with him and his early days as a driver with a seat rather than just watching from the sidelines.
"Charles, hi!", you gasped, hugging him and feeling him squeeze your body against his.
"I- what are you doing here? Are you here for the race?", he wondered. This couldn't be a mere coincidence. He hoped it wasn't.
"I had a work trip here that coincided with this weekend, and I thought of it as a sign", you explained, "you're staying in this hotel too?".
"Yes, the team are at the one where we usually stay for the weekend, but until Thursday, I'm staying here, yes", he smiled, "Goodness, I feel like it's both been forever and like it was yesterday", he chuckled, "do you want to get a drink? I have a nice selection in my room whenever I stay", he offered.
"I'd love to, Charles", you said, hoping that the tingly feeling on your tummy mirrored Charles' own excitement at this unexpected but valued encounter, "are you sure though? You just arrived".
"No, don't worry about that! My room is... 705", he checked on the card he was handed, "so you can join me now or maybe you want to set those things down first and meet me there?", he pointed to the bag you were carrying.
"Yes, this is quite heavy actually", you blushed, "my room is on this floor, so I'll meet in your room in fifteen? I need to freshen up because I've been walking around town all day".
Leaving the elevator on your floor, Charles waved at your before the doors closed andyou headed to your door. Stepping inside, you left the totebag with the books you bought in the chair before heading to the bathroom, brushing out any tangles in your hair and splashing your face with water to freshen up.
After getting yourself ready to go, you went up to Charles' floor, knocking on the door and waiting for him.
"Come in, come in!", Charles offered after he opened the door, "I've unpacked but kept it very organised still", he chuckled as you walked inside the room. It looked the same as yours did, only a different colour pallette for the decoration.
"How have you been?", you wondered once you sat down and shared some sparkling water, neither of you really feeling like drinking anything alcoholic.
"You surely know more about me than I know about you", Charles smiled, "but it's been good, this season has been great so far, I feel like we're in a really good path and things are working well", he took a sip from his cup, "the team have done such an incredible job".
"And the driver on the car doesn't have anything to do with that?", you squinted at his ever so modest take on things.
"I suppose I do", he blushed.
"I may have not been here, but I've watched every race - minus some of the ones at daft o'clock, I only watched those when my sleep was all messed up", you joked, "you're an essential part of this team, Charles, everyone can see that so you should give yourself more credit", you touched his arm.
Even though it had been years since you last saw eachother, you hit it off immediately and it seemed like no time had passed.
"And you? What is this work trip that brought you here?", Charles nodded.
"You're not the only one who gets to travel for work, alright?", you tsked, "I had to do a presentation on a conference and then the department invited me for a lecture, nothing big".
"Who's being ever so modest now, hm? That is fantastic, mon ange!", he congratulated before he noticed the words coming out of his mouth.
"When I noticed it fell around this weekend, I told my mum and she said that I should try and dip my foot here - I've been wanting to come to race sooner but...", you trailed off.
"I get it - it's hard going to the places that remind you of them", Charles took his hand in yours and squeezed it, "he was so cherished by the team, I'm sure everyone will be very happy to see you".
"Actually, I walked to the track today so I could see it up close before the race - I hoped it wouldn't be such a big shock once I got there on Friday -, and I bumped into Salvatore", you smiled, "he let me go into the garage and I saw everyone, it was really nice", you looked up so the tears on your eyes wouldn't fall.
"I can get you a pass, let me just text Silvia!", Charles said as he got his phone from his pocket with his free hand.
"She already did", you chirped, "apparently you booked two for your mother, so they had a spare one".
"You see, a couple of years ago, my mum was too late to tell me she was coming to the race and I was out of the guest passes, so I always have one on hold for her and I sent the list with her name on it as well", he admitted, "but it seems to have turned out just fine - meant to be even".
You ended up requesting room service for the two of you for dinner, neither feeling like going out of the room after feeling so comfortable there. Conversation was steady, vulnerability was easy to show and the butterflies were happily dancing on your tummy.
"I better get to my room, then", you stated once Charles told you about what he needed to do tomorrow once he was at the track.
"I didn't mean it that way - I'm fine!", he said after doing his best attempt at containing a big yawn, "I'm fine!".
"You're tired, and frankly so am I", you admitted as you got up from the bed.
"Would you like to come with me to the track tomorrow? If you don't have other plans that is", he mumbled the last part.
"I don't - I was just going to work a little bit, but if you find me a spot in the hospitality, I'll happily take my stuff there", you smiled reassuringly as you put on your shoes and headed to the door.
"I can take you to your room", Charles got up from the bed and followed you.
"No need, my room is just downstairs", you reasoned, kissing his cheek in a silent thank you still.
"That's right - so we'll go tomorrow after breakfast?", he rested his body on the door once you opened it.
"Yes, that works for me! Good night, Charles", you smiled before walking up to the elevator.
.
Walking inside the hospitalitynwith Salvatore and the rest of the team, he was quick to show you where you could set up.
"Charles likes to spend as much time as possible with the fans and it's right about now that they start becoming more and more and they're everywhere, too", he explained as he helped you in the table on the lounge area, "there's food and coffee in there if you need anything", Salvatore smiled, "if you need anything, just ask someone".
"Thank you - this is perfect", you assured, sitting down and working on your laptop and reading some of the books you had bought.
Charles and Carlos finally arrived at the hospitality, greeting the team and talking to them for a while before they headed upstairs for a meeting.
"You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend and you were bringing her here", Carlos told Charles as he poured some coffee on a mug after the meeting.
"I don't - I haven't brought a girlfriend here", Charles quirked an eyebrow at his team-mate.
"So who is that young woman you just smiled at and are pouring coffee for after giving her the heart eyes?", it was the spanish driver's turn to raise his eyebrows.
"Oh, Y/N!", Charles smiled as he mentioned your name, "she's an old friend! Her father was a mechanic before he passed away a few years ago - the older team members have known her since she was little, everyone loves her", he mused.
"Everyone loves her - I can see that", Carlos chuckled as he followed Charles to the table.
"We don't want to interrupt or disturb you too much", Charles announced as he set the mug next to your laptop.
"It's fine, sit sit!", you encouraged as you closed the books you no longer needed to make room for them, "I'm Y/N", you told Carlos.
"I'm Carlos", he smiled back, "nice to meet you", he said before you dove into conversation, discussing anything that popped into your minds and getting to know eachother.
"Don't let her fool you into believing she has always been a responsible, put together girl because she used to steal and hide all of our tools!", Antonio, one of the engineers pointed at you after he got himself a bottle of water, "Charles knows her tricks already but you, Carlos, don't fall for that!".
"You loved it every time I was on the computers and drew on Paint! You even had one of my drawings as the background for almost an entire season!", you threw at him as he approached you, patting the top of your head protectively.
"I'd like to see that! I've only known her since she was way older", Charles pouted.
"Jealous much?", Carlos teased, his voice above a whisper as Charles seemed to get flustered.
"Is it really that obvious?", the monégasque driver mumbled once you got up to get something to eat, "I've had a crush on her since I was a development driver".
"Why have you never said anything? She seems like she really cares about you too", Carlos mused as he thought to a few moments before where you too gqve him heart eyes. He would have to be blind to not notice it, and even then the energy between you too would still be felt.
"The timing wasn't right, I guess - her father passed away almost right after as I became a driver for Alfa Romeo, and she hasn't been in the paddock since. We have texted every now and again over the years and now she happened to be here for the race too", Charles offered.
"I'd say you should take a shot - trust me, she likes you back", Carlos patted Charles' shoulder after getting up, watching you go back to the table with a big smile on your face.
.
After Charles took pole position in qualifying, the team stayed a bit longer for the debrief, going over a few points of the discussion and the changes they still needed to make before the race.
"Y/N! We're having dinner at one of our favourite restaurants in town and I'm counting you in, okay?", Charles said as he spotted you in the garage, followed by Andrea, who had been keeping you company along with his brothers, Charlotte and Pascale.
"Your family is here for you, Charles, I don't want to intrude", you said as you got up, unaware of the Leclerc matriarch behind you.
"Chérie, of course you won't be intruding - we'd love to have you there!", Pascale chirped in.
"Well, in that case...!", you smiled, "just tell me where I should go and at what time, or are we going straight there?", you wondered.
"I was thinking we could go straight there if that's okay with you - you can can come with me and Andrea can ride with my brothers", Charles suggested, "unless you need to go back to the hotel", he quickly scrambled.
"No, I'm fine! Unless this outfit is not restaurant appropriate", you muttered as you looked down. Against all odds, you managed to not get any food stains on your dress. It was a midi skirt cut, flowy to allow your body to feel cool considering the warm Italian day.
"It's fine - you're fine, you look beautiful!", Charles was quick to assure you.
"Good, that's good then", you smiled before excusing yourself to go and get your things.
"You have to tell her, Charles - your affection is no use to either of you if you keept it in here", Pascale tapped her son's chest.
.
"Y/N", Charles called you before he had to go and get ready for the race, "I have something for you - we do", he said as some of the mechanics, including Salvatore, followed him.
"Oh, what is it?", you smiled.
"We commented with some guys back at the factory that you were here with is this weekend and they found something we thought you'd like to have", Salvatore said as he handed you a bag.
Looking inside, you noticed an old Ferrari cap and some embroidered lettering on the side, recognising it immediately. When you were a teenager, you decided to try different hobbies and hand embroidery was the one that stuck the most, so much so that on one of the race weekends, you embroidered caps for everyone on the team that asked you.
"My wife remembered the one I have at home and then the guys at Maranello found your father's and apparently one you did for Charles' as well", Salvatore offered as you took them both out.
"Dad always said he had plenty of embroidered things at home and this one was the one he had to travel with him", you chuckled as tears welled up in your eyes, feeling Charles soothingly rub your back.
"I remember getting this and loving it - I thought I had lost it!", Charles said, unaware if how close he was pulling you together so he could get a peek at the old caps.
"There's some loose string here", you chuckled, wiping the tears and fiddling with the red thread, "I didn't know how to properly tie it at the start, I kept losing it - I think I even glued it down at some point. Thank you for bringing this out", you smiled.
"Would you mind if I wore this for the driver's parade?", Charles asked you.
"I was planning on wearing my dad's while I watched the race", you offered, testing the fabric and placing it on your head before doing the same with Charles, fixing it on his head and looking up at him.
You never got over how handsome he was. The little scar on his cheek, his mole, the smile that never failed to make you smile, his beautiful green eyes. His kindness, his gentleness, his talent - there wasn't a way to deny how much you liked it. How much you liked him.
"We will be matching then!", Charles squeezed you against him before going to his driver's room.
Only when Charles was headed to take P1 on the grid did he hand the cap back to Salvatore and put on his helmet, giving you a wink before he left.
"How are you feeling?", Pascale asked as she sat next to you to watch the race. Over the last couple of days, she had grown close to you, not only because you had captured her son's heart and she wanted to get to know you, but also because Charles had told her how emotionally charged it was for you to be at the track, in Monza nonetheless.
"It's a lot", you admitted, "everyone has been so kind and warm, so all of the heavy feelings have been slowly infiltrating the good ones and it's been easier to deal with them like that", you blinked away a few tears.
"I get it", Pascale nodded, "losing someone is not easy, and I can't imagine what it feels like for you - the boys and I talk about my late husband every now and again and it gets easier to talk about it, I think that's what it is anyway".
"Yes, definitely like that. My mum and I have reached the point where we don't cry at every mention - despite what you might have noticed this weekend", you chuckled.
"It's emotional, chérie - I, for one, always cry whenever the boys achieve their goals. Hervé isn't here to see them, but I know he knows, and the boys know how proud he is of them", Pascale smiled, keeping some tears at bay too.
"You raised amazing young men, don't doubt that", you let out. At this point, you were sure she had noticed or had at least an inkling. As any mechanic for the red team who knew you since you were a kid would say, you were never a good liar - anytime you said you didn't touch something, they knew to look in your backpack first.
"Thank you, dear", she added, "you know, Charles is quite careful in who he lets in, but he's never been good at hiding how much he cares about someone and I can tell he cares a great deal about you".
"I care a lot about him too", you smiled before you were handed a pair of headphones each with the race about to start.
When Charles successfully kept the cars behind him away with a good gap, you clapped and watched the remaining laps number get smaller and smaller until there was only the current lap left.
Charlotte held your hand together with hers as you watched Charles be the first driver to see the checkered flag and when Xavi yelled "And P1!" into the radio, you did your happy dance, not having a care in the world about what others thought as you watched the Tifosi erupt in cheer.
"He did it! He did it!", Pascale clapped for her son, Arthur hugging her while Lorenzo did the same with his girlfriend while you softly touched your father's embroidered name on your cap with your fingers.
Running up to Parc Fermé, you stood in the sea of red, waiting for him to come back and hug them.
"You did so well, congratulations!", you said as you pulled Charles for a hug.
"Had my good luck charm with me!", he smiled back, kissing your cheek as he took advantage of you being shielded by the mechanics and engineers.
The team celebratory dinner was going really well, everyone happy with how the weekend panned out with both drivers on the podium and enjoying the meal on the restaurant's outside patio.
"If you guys want dessert, they're going to set them out on that table and you can grab as much as you like", Fred spread the message as you could see all kinds of sweet foods being brought out, a pudding catching your eye along with some raspberries.
You and Charles got the dessert plates and served yourselves, noticing the staff was already clearing up the tables, meaning you'd have to move to the bar area, many people opting to skip dessert and get some drinks instead.
"You can see the stars so clearly tonight", you mused as you looked up at the sky, setting your plate on the high table.
"My father always said that the stars did shine brighter here, and tonight the sky is very clear", Charles hummed in agreement, looking at your face. The moonlight and the dim lighting for the lamps and fairy lights illuminated all your features perfectly - your smile as you looked up formed the dimples on your cheeks, your eyes that were a tiny bit squinty and the way your whole body seemed relaxed.
The goosebumps on your arms caught his eye though, "here, have this", Charles said as he offered you the cardigan he had carried around all night since according to him his mother made him do it because it would be cold.
"Thanks", you smiled as you pulled the sleeves and folded them around your wrist so they would fit better, "this is really comfy, I might steal this if you don't ask for it back", you joked.
"I don't mind if you keep it, you have had my heart all these years", Charles stated. There it was.
"What?", you faced him, heart beating fast inside your chest.
"It's true, I've had a crush on you since I first met you, and these past couple of days have been amazing, and I can't believe it took me all these years to realize how I truly feel about you Y/N", he told you, no stutter or sign of regret on his face.
"I haven't been around, really, it's my fault", you fiddled with your thumbs before looking at him again, "but I can't lose you again".
"You never lost me, amour", he smiled as his eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips, his hand cupping your cheek your mouth pressed on his, ignoring everything and everyone around you.
Interrupting the kiss for air, Charles giggled as you hid your face in his neck once you heard the cheers and whistles, your lashes tickling him as his arms circled your waist and pulled you closer to him.
"He wins inside the track and outside of it, Charles Leclerc, P1 to Y/N's heart!", Carlos shouted before whistling again.
"Just so you know, I want an invite to your wedding!", Salvatore pointed his finger at you, "I still remember when you invited me for your wedding with Vettel!".
"You and Seb?", Charles chuckled once you pulled away from his neck.
"Sebastian was my favourite when I was little", you giggled, hiding your face on Charles' chest this time, "when he was back in RedBull still, I asked my father to ask him if he could take a photo with me and I cherished that for so many years - it was my most prized possession!".
"I can't promise you Seb, but I can promise you the very best of me", Charles said as he kissed the top of your head.
#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc x reader#f1 fluff#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader
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Hey there! ☺️ I've been loving your writing lately and wanted to make a request for a new piece. What about writing about Soldier!Reader and König falling asleep on each other on their way back to base after a mission? I think it would be a sweet moment of intimacy after all the dangers and stress they've been through together. No pressure though, just thought I'd throw it out there! :)
HI, LOVIE! thanks for this request,, this was undeniably the cutest thing I have ever written!! i used gtranslate for the german phrases cz idk any german huhu. anyw, i hope u wd love this, anon <//3
PAIRING: König X Gn!Reader
OVERVIEW: König letting you rest on his shoulder, and him also resting on top of your head <//3
C/W: Everything is fluff.
As you sat in the back of the military vehicle, you felt your shoulders droop as you fought to stay awake. Your mind was fogged from fatigue, and every minute felt like an eternity.
But as your eyes began to flutter closed, you made one last effort, shifting slightly in your seat to avoid dozing off.
You and your team had just completed a long and arduous mission, and you all were tired and eager to get back to base. You looked over at König who was seated next to you in the military vehicle. He looked just as exhausted as you felt, his face lined with the strain of the past few hours.
König, watching over you as he always did on missions, noticed the tell-tale signs of you about to fall asleep. Instead of calling you out, however, he silently watched with concern.
He knew how grueling the mission had been, and he did not want to see you hurt yourself by staying up any longer.
As you continued to struggle to keep your eyes open, your focus began to slip, your head slowly drooping. You didn't even realize it, but eventually your head came to rest on König's shoulder, your breathing growing more and more steady with each passing moment.
König noticed the change in your demeanor immediately, and he watched your face as it relaxed into a peaceful slumber. He knew your exhaustion well, and he saw it as a sign that you had finally reached your limit.
His rough, low voice was warm and comforting as he whispered words to you so softly that you almost didn't catch it, but you felt their meaning deep in your heart.
"Ich bin so stolz auf dich," he murmured, his voice low and steady, "Du bist so mutig und stark."
His whispers continued as you slept, caressing your right arm gently as he does so. "Ich liebe dich..." he murmured softly, sounding almost hesitant. "Du bist meine Welt, meine Liebe."
König knows that you would not be able to understand them, so he lets himself freely express his love and care for you in his mother tongue.
König then adjusted his seat to accommodate you and let you rest against him. Nevertheless, you still slept soundly in his right shoulder, the warmth of his body providing a sense of comfort and security that you desperately needed.
A few hours later, you awoke to the sound of König's snores. He had leaned his head on top of yours, and the sound of his breathing was rhythmic and soothing. Despite the uncomfortable position, you felt a sense of calm wash over you, and you drifted off once more.
As the hours passed, the warmth of his body seept into yours, and your consciousness began to fade. You were lost in a dreamless, restful sleep, feeling safe and protected by his presence.
Finally, the sun began to set, and the military vehicle came to a stop outside the base. You stirred from your slumber, feeling refreshed and ready to face whatever might come next. You opened your eyes to find König still sound asleep, his head resting on top of yours.
You sighed softly, trying not to disturb him. You carefully shifted your position and leaned over to whisper in his ear, "König... Wake up."
He stirred slightly, cracking open one eye to look at you. "Gott sei Dank..." His voice was low and hoarse from exhaustion, but there was a smile in his eyes. "I'll never complain about a nap again."
You giggled quietly, feeling a sudden surge of affection for him. "You'll never complain about anything again," you murmured, reaching up to prepare your stuff and fix your vest.
"Ja," König replied, his eyes gentle as ever as he looked at you. "Thanks for your shoulder, schatz. Sorry for if ever, um, it was uncomfortable."
"Oh?" You smiled softly at him.
"You know, given by your smaller than me, maus."
"Well," you chucked as you leaned over at him once more. "It was actually one of the best and comfortable sleep I have ever encountered in this.. kind of scenario."
König felt a warm sensation sweep over his cheeks as he blushed, clearing his throat nervously. "Is that so? Well, I'm glad."
"Actually, I should have been the one thank you. So, thanks. I really needed that nap." You patted his shoulder, where you previously had slept on.
König felt a nervous jolt run through his body as he realized his blush must have been noticed, even with the mask on, when your smile seems to expand more cheekily.
He doesn't trust his words, fear striking in him if he's going to let out stuttering phrases. So, he instead nodded at you, averting his gaze once again.
You knew that there were plenty of things he couldn't express with his mask on, but you could still tell that he appreciated your gesture. And you were glad to have been there for him, just as he had been there for you.
#👾 — [bonnie’s wk]#okay but like konig being overly affectionate is making me soft#I CANT HELP IT why is he so bbg#konig x you#konig#konig fic#konig x reader#konig cod#konig modern warfare#konig headcanons#konig fanfiction#konig mw2#konig fluff#könig cod#könig smut#könig#könig x you#könig x reader#könig fanfiction#könig call of duty#cod x you#cod x reader#cod fanfic#cod modern warfare#cod#call of duty mw2#call of duty#call of duty x reader
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Boobies!
Steve Harrington x Female Reader
Summary:Your Stevie gets to spend some quality time with you and his girls.
Warnings: 18+, Smut, Steve Harrington is a boobs guy, Titfucking, Mentions of pornography, nothing else that I can think of (unless you think there’s something I missed, in which case; shoot me a message so I can tag it)
Word Count: 1521
Author's Note:I had this idea bouncing around my head for a while, and so I thought I’d get round to actually writing it.
Simply put, Steve Harrington was a boob kind of guy. In his eyes, all boobs were good boobs. Big, or small, it didn't matter to him.
You suspected as much to be true, because anytime you'd fallen asleep with him, he would end up spooned so close to you, holding you safe in his arms, his hand finding their places to settle over your boobs. Just feeling the soft weight of your tits in his palms was somewhat relaxing for him.
You also had your suspicions confirmed last summer, where you had decided to wear a tank top, to avoid wearing any unnecessary layers. That was the day that you had to fight for your boyfriend’s attention almost anytime you wanted to talk to him. His brown eyes cast down, towards your chest, eyeing the exposed cleavage, and enjoying the subtle bounce and jiggle of your boobs anytime you talked excitedly about anything.
It was on a lazy Sunday evening, on the rare occasion that you weren’t working at the movie theatre, and Steve had a day off working in Family Video. You were laying closely pressed together on his bed.
More often than not, the free time you spent alone with Steve was in his house. He’d told you many times that it was very rare for his parents to be home for any length of time. Whilst the thought of Steve’s parents being happy enough to leave that boy in that big house all by himself, made your heart ache, you were glad of the privacy it afforded you. It was so much better than the alternative. That time where Steve had been hanging out with you in your bedroom, and your Stevie couldn’t keep his hands to himself. The sudden knock and opening of the door by your mother startled you both enough to quickly pull away from your impromptu makeout session. It wasn’t that your mother didn’t like or approve of your relationship with Steve, oh no it was quite the opposite actually, she adored how kindly he seemed to treat her daughter. However, she wasn’t quite ready to see her daughter and her boyfriend in such a compromising position. Between seeing your slightly out-of-breath state, and Steve’s ruffled hair and glazed over expression, it didn’t take a genius to piece together what had just been happening. After that awkward encounter, it just seemed better that you spent your time at Steve's place.
You were laying on your back, whilst Steve laid down over you, his arm wrapped protectively over your waist, his head resting gently on top of your chest whilst your fingers ran softly through his mess of shaggy hair.
“...Mmm your boobs are soft..” he mumbles against your chest “..and so pretty too..”
That’s when you suddenly feel the tugging of Steve’s hands at the hem of your oversized t-shirt (technically it was his shirt, but after he told you how much he enjoyed seeing you in his shirts, you took it upon yourself to wear his stuff more often.) His eager fingertips try to work the shirt off your body to have access to your naked tits, knowing you didn’t ever wear a bra if you were home.
Taking the hint, you sat up to arch your arms up and take off your t-shirt, flinging it off to the corner of Steve’s room.
Steve seized this moment to begin to leave kisses over your tits. His pink lips, pecking all over the soft exposed skin. His kisses begin to inch closer to your nipple, before he wraps his lips around it, bringing it into the warm wet heat of his mouth, sucking it gently before releasing it from his mouth with a pop. Then his lips lead a trail of sweet kisses from one breast to the other, making sure to give equal attention to the other nipple.
All the while you let him indulge in his love affair with your tits, your fingertips scratch and tug at the soft brown strands of hair at his scalp.
That's when the idea struck him. Remembering something he saw in one of the x-rated tapes from the adult section at the back of Family Video that he'd taken home with him after a particularly long shift. Footage of a man sliding his dick through the softness of some girls' boobs. That evening Steve came harder than he ever had before. His cum dripped over the knuckles of his closed fist, and the only thoughts on his mind was of how he wanted to try that with you.
“Hey…Uh.. Honey?” Steve spoke up, tilting his head up to look at you.
“Yes, my love?”
“There’s something I wanna try with you, would you be down for trying something new?” he started, the idea of how to go about asking you formulating in his mind.
“Well what is it, Stevie?” you teased gently.
“I wanna fuck your tits” he blurted out, thinking it would better if he just came out with it, rather than skirt around the subject.
“Okay, I’m down, how do you want me?”
“H-how do I want you?” the fact you were even entertaining this idea had his head spinning and all the blood rushing straight to his dick.
“Yeah like, would you rather I sit up and you like..thrust between them? Or I can lay on my back and you can straddle my chest and then I can push my boobs together.” You explained brazenly.
“Can I straddle your chest please?” he asked sheepishly.
“Sure!” you said as you got yourself comfortable, laying back on Steve’s bed.
Steve pulled off his sweatpants, his semi-hard dick bobbing slightly.
Steve spat into his palm, and dropped his hand down to give his cock a few firm strokes, pumping his fist over the length of himself till he was fully hard.
He reached over to his bedside drawer where he kept a small bottle of lube, exactly where he’d left it from back when he’d watched that damn video.
He uncapped the bottle with a click, warning you how it would probably be cold on your skin, before he squeezed a generous amount between the valley of your breasts. He didn’t miss the way your body shivered as the cold gel hit your skin.
He also squeezed out some into his hand, thrusting into his hand a few times to cover his dick too.
Hovering over you with his cock in his hand, he leans forward, placing his cock between the valley of your breasts. He takes each one of your breasts in his large hands and gently squeezes them together. You notice his hesitancy and so you place your hands over his and to reassure him that you’re more than willing to do this, and to push your boobs together tighter around his steadily leaking cock.
Then he starts thrusting his hips forward. It’s different to what he was expecting, not a bad different certainly, the softness of your skin, slick with lube, feels so nice. His thumbs find themselves rubbing over your nipples, teasing them into hardened peaks.
“F-fuck…” Steve stutters out with a moan, his head swimming with lust as he watched his cock slide between your breasts.
“I wanna taste you, Stevie” you say as you stick out your tongue, just enough so it catches on the tip of his cock as it pops through the top of your cleavage. Your tongue lapping the beading drop of pre-cum gathering at his sensitive tip.
“God..Honey.. Fuck..that’s feels so good..your’re so good for me” Steve groans out above you, his hips continuing to thrust between your breasts. “Love your tits…they’re so soft..you look so gorgeous like this, honey”
His thrusts start to become sloppier and as he chases his high.
“Babe.. I’m so close… ” his breath coming out in ragged pants.
“Cum on my tits, Stevie…please..” you whine for him, squishing your boobs tighter around him and using them to help jerk him off.
With a few more thrusts, and the soft weight of your boobs working against his sensitive cock, Steve comes with a deep guttural moan, painting your collarbones with his spend.
Steve carefully swings his body to come and lie next to you, his own chest heaving with gasps, and his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, his cock softening against his stomach.
You take this opportunity to swipe your finger through the cum Steve spilled on your chest Popping your finger in your mouth, you moan at the taste, sucking your finger clean.
Steve who had been trying to catch his breath, watched you with lust-glazed eyes
“Honey, you can’t just do that..s’not fair, you’ll get me going again” he chuckles dryly.
“What? Too tired, Harrington?” you tease playfully.
“Never. For you I’ve got all the time in the world” he smirks as he makes his way down your body, settling in between your thighs.
“Now... Let me return the favour” He says with a cheeky wink, his pink tongue darting out to wet his lips.
Oh. You were in for it now.
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x female reader#steve harrington x reader smut#steve harrington smut#stranger things#steve harrington stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#steve harrington x remale reader smut#stranger things s4#steve harrington imagines#Steve Harrington stranger Things fanfiction
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‘YOUNG AND BEAUTIFUL’ SATORU GOJO
ACT ONE.
summary. gojo visits your grave once a year, reflecting on the limited time he had with you while going through the stages of grief. ☆
warnings. angst, sad!gojo, fem!reader! gojo x you, grief, established relationship, some smut if you squint, bittersweet ending
a/n. this is a short story i wrote over the summer, i wanted to dabble into the idea of gojo not being able to fully process his grief without the help of his students. it is a bit sad though.
ACT TWO : ̗̀➛ ACT THREE : ̗̀➛ FINALE
𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪
"Does Gojo-sensei seem…different today?" Itadori asked absentmindedly, leaning back in his chair while balancing a pencil on his nose. He was doing everything else but the work he was supposed to finish before class ended. His two close friends, Megumi and Nobara, spared him a quick glance, as if debating whether to answer his ridiculous question.
"When is that nutjob ever okay?" Nobara bounced back another question, making Itadori stop balancing himself on his chair to think for once. The pencil he had on his face clattered onto the ground. "If anything, he's more extra than he was yesterday."
"Exactly," Itadori frowned, the invisible lightbulb above his head continuing to flicker as he thought long and hard about what Gojo could be upset about. He knew it was a stretch, and he himself wasn't too good at reading emotions, but he was sure something was off—from the way Gojo's smile seemed wider to the way his laughs went on for a second too long. "What do you think, Megumi?"
The black-haired boy stopped moving his pencil across the paper. His face remained stoic as the two beside him turned to look in his direction, anticipating an answer from him.
In short, Megumi did know why Gojo seemed off today, and it was all because of his vague memory of you.
He was a clueless child back then, but he felt it. He felt the love you and Gojo shared, something he had seen before between his own mother and father. It was strong, beautiful, like a song that only you and Gojo knew the lyrics to. It was a dance—a slow burn into the spotlight of a world you two created.
He admired it. He admired you and the person you helped Gojo become.
And though your memory was beautiful, it was also tragic. Megumi did mourn you since he remembered bits and pieces of you, but he was sure Gojo mourned you the most. Especially since today was the anniversary of your death. For as long as he's known Gojo, he knew that this one day out of the year was the time when he'd crack more jokes, tease him more, and laugh the loudest—all to mask his pain.
And he couldn't help but think it's because Gojo never properly grieved for you.
"He's the same as usual," Megumi lied. It wasn't their place to know, nor was it his. Everyone had their secrets and the stuff they keep to themselves. Who were they to pry into his business? "You guys should just drop it."
And with that, he went back to his assignment, ignoring the gawking stares from both of his friends.
"Well, now I'm even more curious," Itadori pouted, resting his chin on his hand as he looked out the window just in time to see Gojo's back as he skipped off campus. "He's literally leaving in the middle of the day!"
"Itadori—" Megumi started but got interrupted by his friends' loud voices.
"What?!" Nobara pushed Itadori away from the window so she could look. A sudden spark of curiosity consumed her as she cracked a mischievous grin. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"
"We should follow him!" they both said at the same time as they rushed out of the classroom with such speed they left papers flying behind them.
Megumi could only sigh. His peers were likely to get in trouble and drag him into their mess somehow. It never fails. He thought for a moment about how he would benefit from following them to make sure they didn't get caught leaving school grounds without a teacher, but he came up with nothing. He figured he should take his own advice and mind his own business, let those two knuckleheads do whatever they want and suffer the consequences for it.
They could potentially run into dangerous curses, dangerous people, or dangerous people controlling dangerous curses… and then suffer grave injuries. You know what? Maybe he should follow them from a distance.
Meanwhile, the door to the flower shop gave a soft ding as Gojo opened it. His tall frame took up the space in the small shop. Gojo ducked his head as he came in, careful not to knock over the potted plants that rested on the floor and shelves in no particular order. The air was stale with an earthy smell that was oddly comforting. It was good to know that the place remained the same after a year—the only thing that stayed the same in his chaotic life.
"Satoru!" an elderly woman looked up from her newspaper at the sound of the doorbell, thick circle glasses making her eyes appear large and almost fish-like. "Good to see you! How have you been?"
"Mrs. Yamada," Gojo bowed respectfully to the elder, to which the lady playfully pinched and pulled his cheeks. "Missed you too!"
"You silly boy, you know you can visit anytime and not just once a year, you know (Y/N) would've loved that, hm?" Mrs. Yamada made her way behind the counter, already grabbing and wrapping up a single flower. A flower that was your favorite, the same kind you'd always get whenever you would come into this small flower shop.
Gojo never understood why you didn't let him buy a whole bouquet of the flowers you loved. "Then I'd have to take care of all of them," you'd say, your laugh like a sweet melody in his ears that he constantly wanted to replay. "When it's just one, I feel like it lasts longer, you know? I seem to appreciate it more."
The memory made him frown slightly. If you allowed it, he would've bought the whole damn store for you, and you wouldn't just be stuck with a single flower. He didn't get it. He didn't get you. Even after all these years, he was still trying to figure you out.
"Ah, she used to come in every Sunday morning to say hello," Mrs. Yamada smiled warmly. "Always ready to hound me for something sweet to eat. (Y/N) had a nose like a hound and a stomach like a sumo wrestler." The brown wrapping paper crinkled against the elder's fingertips as she folded it around the flower. "Oh, how I miss her."
"Come now, Mrs. Yamada," Gojo leaned against the counter, tapping the wood with excitement. "She'd want us to smile, to celebrate her life, right?! Then that's exactly what we'll do."
"Satoru…"
Gojo waved his hands dismissively. "The usual price for the flowers, right?"
"Yes," Mrs. Yamada rang him up at the cash register before sliding the flower across the counter toward him. But before Gojo could grab it, she pulled it away. "I wanted to tell you before I closed up shop for the day, but… I will be retiring next month."
Gojo's smile fell then.
"I am getting too old, and ever since my husband's passing, I find it quite hard to manage this all on my own, no matter how much I love to do so," she patted the counter lightly, eyes glazed over in a daze as if recalling a memory. "I will be closing the shop and moving to America to stay with my daughter."
"Then are you going to sell the building?"
Gojo found himself asking before he could even think about what to say.
"I'll buy it."
Even in death, you were expensive. How was that possible? Gojo found himself using his savings to buy a whole flower shop that you weren't even here to see. But did that matter to him? Of course not. You were worth every penny—and the shop, to him, was nothing more than a shiny penny that he could buy for your sake. All because you loved it and would visit it often. Gojo couldn't let it close down; it was too valuable for the sake of the memories it held.
So now he owned a flower shop. What the hell was he going to do with a flower shop? He didn't know a damn thing about flowers.
"(Y/N)…" Gojo whispered your name as he pushed open the metal graveyard gate, the bolt making a loud creaking noise that echoed into the summer breeze.
It didn't take Gojo long to find your headstone. After all these years, he knew this cemetery like the back of his hand; at this point, it was like a second home to him. The only place where he could truly let the mask fall as he mourned for you.
In the years you've been gone, he had a long time to think—to wonder why you of all people had to be taken away from him. It made him question, curse, and cry to a higher power above if there was one. Would they be listening? Did they hear him? Did they understand the pain he was put through? And if everything was a part of the higher power's plan, then why was (Y/N) written in with such a tragic story? Why did her life become a song of such somber music?
It wasn't fair. And to Gojo, he would never make sense of it, no matter how hard he tried.
"Ah, it's a beautiful day, (Y/N)." Gojo smiled warmly at your headstone before sitting on the smooth tile, rummaging through his bag to pull out a rag so he could wipe the dust that was on top of your engraved name. "Though I bet you're complaining about how hot it is. I know, it is a little toasty, but a beautiful day nonetheless."
Wiping the concrete clean, Gojo made sure it was spotless with all the cleaning supplies he brought. He had to make up for the year he was away; that's why he always deep-cleaned your headstone since he knew he wouldn't be back until next year. He wanted you to watch the seasons go by with a pretty headstone, one that sparkled whenever the sun cast its rays on it.
"Hm?" Gojo tilted his head as if to hear your unspoken question again. "Oh! I'm doing good. Still teaching. You'd love these lot of kids, though. They have such great potential and are such a reckless bunch who enjoy escaping off campus to follow me here."
"Crap! He's onto us." Gojo heard Nobara's voice from the bushes behind him.
"Do you think he knows?" Itadori asked in his typically clueless fashion.
"He knows, dumbass." Megumi sighed before emerging from the bushes with twiddledee and twiddledumb trailing behind him. Their bantering stopped once they saw Gojo sitting by your headstone, the air suddenly becoming still as they made their way closer.
"Gojo-sensei, we can explain—!"
"Don't even," the white-haired man laughed before gesturing toward the headstone. "(Y/N), meet my students. Students, meet (Y/N)!"
"Ah! Nice to meet you!" Itadori bowed in respect, and so did Megumi.
"Why are we bowing to a dead—" Grabbing ahold of Nobara's hand, Itadori forcibly pulled her down so she could bow as well.
"Oh, you kids are in so much trouble," Gojo said with a gleeful smile. "I'm already thinking of all the ways to punish you."
"In my defense," Megumi started, "I tried to stop them."
"Yetttttt you're still here." Tilting his head, Gojo looked at his students playfully. "I hope you all enjoyed this field trip, but let's head back to campus, yeah? And get ice cream along the way!"
"Oh! Ice cream!" Itadori and Nobara spun around in a dance as they made their way toward the entrance of the cemetery, the pair just finding it best not to question who you were or what you were to Gojo. They could finally sense what Itadori was talking about that morning. He was different today, and it was clear he was sad. "La la la la la!"
"Let's go, Megumi. Do you still prefer chocolate?" Gojo turned to walk away but stopped in his tracks when he noticed Megumi staring at your grave with an expression he couldn't read. "Megumi?"
"Gojo-sensei…" His student turned to look at him. "I just want you to know that it's okay to be sad, to grieve for her."
Gojo chuckled, tucking his hand in his pocket as a breeze cut through the air, its chilled warmth wrapping around the pair. "Who's to say I don't? I grieve her every day."
URAVITSY 2024
#༊*·˚ uravitsy#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#gojo x reader#jujutsu gojo#gojo x female reader#jjk smut#smut#anime#angst#jjk angst#lovers#short story#gojou satoru x reader#bittersweet#yuji itadori#megumi fushiguro#nobara kugisaki#tw death#romance#lana del rey
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hihi i would love a ruggie centered fic with a hurt/comfort trope ^^
˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗SYNOPSIS: Ruggie is eating dandelions again so Reader tries to make him eat something else.
♡︎ For you anon. *Gives you flowers*
♡︎Warning: Ruggie starving himself
You watched Ruggie from afar as he leaned down on the school field, feeling extremely curious about what was going on. You should have been minding your own business, but the curiosity was killing you. Then you saw him pluck a dandelion out of the ground. Did he like dandelions that much? You didn’t think of Ruggie as a flower guy.
Your eyes widened as you watched him eat it, jaw dropping to the floor. He proceeded to do it again and again and again. You were starting to lose it. What if those had been sprinkled with weed killer? Unable to stand there any longer, you approached him, watching his fluffy ears twitch as you came closer.
"Ruggie Bucchi, by the Seven! What are you doing?" If only you had heard yourself; you sounded like a worried mother for their kid.
"You want one?" There was no way he had the audacity to answer you like that. You were losing it as he laughed at his own words. It wasn’t even funny. Did he not have anything else to eat? Then it occurred to you that Ruggie had some complications related to money. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw him eat at the cafeteria. You didn’t want to say anything about it earlier, thinking he might have gotten food before you. Now it all made sense – he had been skipping lunches because he couldn’t afford them and came here to eat dandelions. You sighed, looking around your school bag and bringing out a sandwich you had prepared.
"Take this." You practically pushed the sandwich against his face as he looked up at you with an inquisitory look.
"I’m not in the mood to do any favors." He had to make it about that. Just because everyone in Night Raven College was egotistic didn’t mean you had to also be.
"I don’t want anything from you. I’m just worried, that’s all." You leaned down in front of him with the sandwich still in your hand. It didn’t seem enough for him to trust you, so you lowered the plastic-wrapped food and sat down on the grass field. "I’m not joking when I say that, Ruggie." You watched his Adam's apple bob up and down as he gulped with those words. He looked at you softly but still unsure if he should open up to you. He had been living likes this since he was a kid, eating scraps that he found around in the street, starving for days and days. Then he seemed puzzled when you started to unwrap the bread, breaking it in two pieces with your hands and handing one of them to him.
"What if we share it?" He had been so close to passing out from that look you gave him while sharing your food. He knew you were also facing a tough financial situation, and yet, you still came to help him out when you could have kept it to yourself. Ruggie would have never done that. You were being so selfless, and he was glad because he loved this kind side of yours. He only wished you’d keep it to yourself, as he feared others would take advantage of you.
"Fine." He gave you a silly laugh as he took the half of the sandwich and started eating it. Not surprisingly, he finished it extremely fast as he had been completely starving.
"Next time, meet me at Ramshackles. I could totally make some donuts for the two of us." Couldn’t you have said anything else? Ruggie almost turned into a puddle as he heard your words. You just made him feel so weirdly loved. Not that he disliked it, in fact, he wished every day was like this.
#disney twst#twisted wonderland#twst#twst wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#x reader#twst x reader#disney twisted wonderland#twst reader#twst ruggie#ruggie bucchi#ruggie x reader#twisted wonderland ruggie#ruggie x yuu#ruggie bucci x reader
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Has the sigil been beaten to death? Yes. Am I going to write a small essay about it anyway? Also yes.
The sigil is such a monumental piece of the story, guys. No matter who you ship, Arthur giving Merlin his mother’s sigil is outrageously important to the validation of their relationship and to Arthur’s character growth, AND a view into his evolving perception of his traitorous family, which is probably why they were cut bc why would we want THAT. I will explain.
Arthur resists verbalizing his friendship with Merlin so much, but he says a lot more with his actions - sacrificing himself for Merlin time and again, confiding in him, keeping him close even though he’s not really supposed to. The sigil is a tangible piece of himself that he gives to Merlin, inviting him into his family and reminding him, even if he can’t quite do it with words, how close they really are.
But his FAMILY. I think that Arthur’s perception of his family is really starting to shift here. He doesn’t give Merlin something that makes him a Pendragon. He doesn’t give him his father’s ring or a dagger encrusted with the symbol of the dragon. He gives him his MOTHER’S sigil, the symbol of the bird, which is of course very symbolic of the relationship between Uther and Ygraine vs. Arthur and Merlin, but it also means that Arthur doesn’t want to associate Merlin with the side of the family that connects via his father - Uther and Morgana, ruthless and hard and traitorous. Arthur didn’t know that Agravaine had betrayed him yet. He wants Merlin to be family, but I think he wants to try everything he can to associate Merlin with the soft bits of his family history - the memory of a kind, gentle mother and a loyal uncle. This, to me, suggests that Arthur is really feeling his own departure from his father’s ways and trying to find a part of himself that was maybe like his mother instead. That would have been important if Merlin had told him about his magic earlier, because Arthur maybe wouldn’t have wanted to react as his father would have.
I just think keeping the scene in would have changed everything about the show from that point on. WHICH IS WHY IT IS CANON IN MY HEAD.
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four eyes (more to love underneath the frames) — PT.1
HELLO!!! okok the prologue received some good reception so i will!!! be continuing the series :3c THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE NICE COMMENTS AND REBLOGS AND OHHHH MY GOD THE MOTHER OF NERD!MIGUEL @nymphomatique REBLOGGED MY PROLOGUE (i could die happy) ty for the food and the inspiration to start this series!!!
i’m still the process of setting up my tumblr because my ass made this my secondary blog (but idek if that changes anything… i don’t think) OH AND YES THERE IS NOW A TAG FOR THE SERIES! ALSO PLSPLSPLS DON’T BE AFRAID TO SEND THROUGH ASKS FOR DRABBLES OR REQUESTS OR ANYTHING REALLY!!! i’m more than happy to feed us both hehe
tw/cw: mmmm not any i can think of (FIXING ANY GRAMMATICAL ERRORS AFTER POSTING BECAUSE I’M COOL)
PROLOGUE?! < <
“sorry students, the projector is currently out of order so i’d like for all of you to just go through the powerpoint on your own. feel free to come up and ask questions.” the professor sighs as he closes his laptop and settles down onto his desk, the chatter of other students and laptop keyboards create the perfect white noise for your 8AM lecture.
you weren’t really that keen on studying this period anyway so you’ll just get it done later but god he looked so much better up close. why did miguel have to be so fucking dorky and hot and cool all at fucking once? it bothered you that miguel has never spoken to you. ever. but with that in mind, no one would ever think of the effect this nerd had on you, not even the nerd himself.
“oi mate, mandem depending on you to pass this class.” you shake your head after you’re slightly shoved to the side of your desk by none other than your best friend bad influence. hobie, hobie, hobie… you groan as you look his way, legs propped up on the desk as if he’s completely unaware that he’s in an lecture hall. next to him is peter, trying to shove hobie’s legs off the table for fear of accidentally hitting miguel who was seated right infront of you.
peter and hobie were the angel and devil on your shoulder that manifested into your closest friends. it was so hard to make friends (partially because you weren’t interested in anyone aside from miguel) and that everyone in your class were already in tight knit friend groups, and it was clear they all wanted to keep it that way with the silent treatment and one-sided conversations. but that didn’t matter. what did matter was that neither of them were taking this class seriously.
hobie - for god knows what reason - just took the class for fun. well, hobie took it out of spite. he said and you quote, “it is my take on deconstructing the stereotypes and preconceptions of particular social groups alongside us punks that dictate that we lack the desire and strive for academic feats”. and you know what? for someone who likes to laze around and count the panels of wood used on the ceiling for half the lecture, his high grades put his narrow-minded folks to shame. oh and peter? although he couldn’t afford to skip his classes, he did anyway. mary jane, MJ - the mother to his children, as he calls her - is in the humanities elective they both share. and peter might as well skip that class instead of looking at MJ as if she invented humanities. you don’t know how watching you and hobie bicker was a better investment of peter’s time but no one was complaining. someone had to remind the both of you of operation miguel mutation, or in other words, get his gaze out of his books and onto your face.
“so much for wanting to prove the world wrong when you’re relying on someone else to do it for you”, you scoffed at hobie, pretending to brush dust off your shoulders. he chuckled, “i just wanted to know how it feels to be those good for nothing, narcissistic capitalists, is all”. you shoved him so hard it rattled your seats and you didn’t even realise you accidentally kicked miguel’s seat until his cold hard gaze towards you even made hobie look like an art piece in the middle of rendering.
“can i help you?”, fuuuuuuck off. he sounds so fucking hot. insanely hot.
his large pitch black frames could never obstruct how chiseled miguel was, he had angular features such as his nose, his jawline and even his cupid’s bow. but these features were softened with warm red eyes and wisps of his hair coming down to frame his forehead. o’hara’s face overall was slightly scrunched, his hand gripped onto the fold away desk while he faced you, his casual attire in sweats could barely hide his build. his mouth was slightly open, the very tip of his fangs making themselves known. he was definitely a specimen, a gorgeous specimen for lack of better word. you didn’t even realise you were staring at miguel until he raised his eyebrow and glanced over at hobie, then over to peter who was just happily content watching your unplanned, unconventional first meeting.
“oh. um, no?”, you were still confused why miguel (the man you’ve been trying to get the attention of ever since the first inkling of a feeling), suddenly turned around and spoke to you—
“excuse me, may i ask that you don’t disrupt your peers during class? i’m watching you too, brown.” if your teacher scolding you like a wack ass boy in year 9 wasn’t enough to make you embarrassed, your quick descent into realising that you quite literally pushed yourself - pushed miguel, rather - to make the first move. in the worst fucking way possible. you ducked your head a bit in an attempt to avoid the gazes of your classmates only to find your shoe jammed between the gap next to miguel’s seat, missing his elbow by a mere few centimetres.
you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
so much for devising a plan to properly introduce yourself by actually trying in class by answering the lecturers questions, to the point miguel can’t help but wonder that there is in fact competition. aware of his competitive nature, miguel would try to get ahead of you or widen that gap but then realise he was all wrong from the moment you’d tap his shoulder for a question you pretend to not understand, to look as if you’re struggling so much miguel can ignore his own studies for a little while to help you. men are stupid after all. miguel doesn’t apply here but being an outcast adjacent of the entire university has its benefits, in a way where it benefits your elaborate plan from stroking miguel’s ego by helping you, to ever so slightly become more and more interested in you. once you slowly ease into getting out of pretending to be an academic victim and miguel finds the joy in being academically challenged by the one girl who braved the odds and approach the mysterious mutant, he’d ask to you to meet at the cafeteria or the library. it didn’t matter. you would then, finally then, be in miguel’s line of sight.
“if this is your way of trying to get into my pants, i’m not interested.”
papers were stuffed into bags and the squeaking of chairs reverberated the lecture theatre. people were making their way to their next class while peter, hobie and yourself shared looks of disbelief, disgust, along with hobie’s infamous expression that scream the words i fucking told you so.
what the fuck? what the actual fuck was that?
o’hara didn’t miss a beat and swivelled around to start packing his belongings, completely unaware of how his response alone completely changed and destroyed all prior preconceptions about this man - or boy as you would now call him - turns out being smart never stopped anyone from being dickhead.
you felt like you just failed a quiz you didn’t know that was happening, despite being prepared to ace it.
it wasn’t like you to fail, however. especially not to him.
[ 🩷 — TAGS! @angelicful @lilipads @zaunsin @m4dyy @okkotszn @rhythmloid @cosmicbarstardust @thespaceinbetweennothing @cu1tvenus @huniedeux @oharasfilipinawife @ilovemuppets @loonalockley ] feel free to comment if you’d like to be added to the taglist!
#🥽 — four eyes!#miguel o'hara#i love miguel o’hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel x you#miguel x y/n#atsv miguel#atsv#atsv x reader#spiderman#spiderman 2099#across the spiderverse#into the spider verse#GRRRR MIGUEL MIGUEL MIGUEL#miguel fanfic#<nerd!miguel3
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Gurll, lavender is my go-to reread everytime. Ig u are taking requests (😂🫶🏻), I would really like to see how Joel found out Doc was pregnant of Sylvie and those sweet pregnancy exchanges - like him being worried (‘cause in the original we skip the whole pregnancy). 😎
OMG Hi Bestie!!!
So you'll see some of this in Girl Dad, a canon one shot I did for Doc's birthday back in October. You see some of Doc panicking about Sylvie on her birthday because she's never made it further in a pregnancy and her birthday has just such an awful personal history for her and Joel loves her through it. We also see Joel being just a precious father to his newest baby girl.
BUT... here's some more of the pregnancy for you ❤️
Expecting
20 years after your first pregnancy, you find yourself expecting again. Things are a bit different this time. A Lavender Drabble.
Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender
Warnings: Pregnancy. Smut adjacent. No use of y/n. 18+ only Minors DNI
Length: 2k
September 2, 2024
The first time you threw up, Joel was on patrol.
It's not like you'd gotten your period since the two of you had started trying but you didn't put much stock in that. You'd never been regular and you were nearing menopause now. Missing a period or two was hardly monumental.
But the nausea the morning you woke up alone was.
You rocketed to the bathroom, doubling over the toilet, everything left in you from the night before coming up.
"Shit," you whispered, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand as your stomach still churned.
You knew this feeling. It had been a long time but you knew it.
And you knew you should be happy about it. It wasn't like last time. You and Joel were together now. Not just together, you were married. Things were secure - as secure as they could be in the apocalypse, anyway - and you were trying for this.
But it was still the apocalypse.
It was no small part of you that thought this wasn't going to happen. That you were going to try and try and then menopause would kick in and you'd never have a child you made with Joel. You'd resigned yourself to that a long time ago, that you'd never be a mother to someone that grew inside of you, never raise someone that you'd brought into being through love. You had Ellie who was your child in every way that mattered and that was more than enough.
But you were pregnant. You were sure of it. And you should have been happy about that - thrilled, in fact. Part of you was. The rest of you was terrified.
What had you been thinking? Bringing a child into this destroyed world? Would Joel even still want this now that it was real and not some imagined, idealized thing on the distant horizon? How were you supposed to protect a baby from the horrors of this reality? Even here in Jackson there was fear and risk and you'd gone and done this on purpose.
You didn't tell anyone, though the nurses at the clinic could tell you were off all day. You assured them that you were fine while trying not to panic. What if Joel changed his mind? What if, when faced with the reality of it, he didn't want to bring a baby into this world?
You threw up again that afternoon, the sickening feeling hanging around after everything came back up and you tried not to cry.
Joel got home after Ellie was already in bed that night, his patrol keeping him out late. You were pacing the kitchen when you heard the front door open and close quietly, the squeak of the floorboards under his heavy boots.
"Baby?" He frowned poking his head into the kitchen. "What're you still doin' up, it's late..."
"I know," you smiled a little, looking him up and down and taking stock to make sure he was still in one piece. "I'm glad you're back."
He smiled back, coming all the way into the kitchen to take you in his arms and kiss you, gentle and deep.
"You and me both," he said. "Gettin' too old to be sleeping rough like that, feel like I did my time with that shit getting out here..."
You laughed a little and nuzzled into him, breathing in the sweaty, woodsy scent of him.
"What's wrong, baby," he whispered, his arms enveloping you totally, holding you against him. "Can tell you got somethin' on that big brain of yours."
You pulled back from him just enough to see his face, his arms still holding you loosely. His face was smeared with dirt, the grime of the trail and sweat on his skin and his eyes were soft and warm and like home.
"I'm pregnant," you said softly. Those eyes got wider. "I know we've been trying but... It's real now and..."
"You're pregnant?" He breathed, stepping back from you, his hands going to your shoulders. You nodded, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. "Oh Baby..."
He took your face in his hands and kissed you again, so hard you could taste the passion on his tongue.
"Really?" He asked, his eyes searching yours as he pulled back from you and taking your shoulders again. You just nodded again, your heart pounding. "Fuck, that's... that's amazing, we're gonna... Baby, you're pregnant!"
"Yeah," you laughed a little. "Yeah, I am... You're happy?"
"Happy?" He laughed back. "Baby, I'm... I'm so far beyond fuckin' happy that word don't even begin to cover it."
He got to his knees in front of you, his hands on your hips, sliding around to cradle the small of your back as he looked lovingly at your stomach.
"You're pregnant," he said, awed, almost to himself. He pressed a kiss to you, over your womb, before one of his hands came to hold you reverently there. "Our baby is in you, right now."
"Yeah," you smiled, voice wet. "Yeah, they are."
"That's amazing," he whispered before looking up at you. "You're amazing, you're the most amazing thing I've ever seen..."
You ran your fingers through his curls before cupping his cheek.
"Thank you," you said, your whole being feeling lighter now, knowing that he was really in this with you.
"For what?" He asked, getting to his feet and pulling you against him again. "You're the one doin' all the work."
You smiled a little.
"For wanting this with me," you said quietly. "I was afraid... I'm still afraid. But we can do this."
"We can do this," he echoed you, kissing your temple. "You, me, Ellie, this baby. We're a family. We can do this."
You put a palm over your womb again, cradling where the child you'd made with Joel was growing inside you.
He was right. You could do this.
But things were different after that.
Joel hovered. It reminded you a bit of when he first came to the QZ, back when he thought his fear was something he could push past if he just got close enough. You’d be working at the clinic, turn around to pick something up and then Joel would be there. You’d be relaxing on the couch and decide you needed a cup of water and, the second you started to move, he was up instead asking what you needed.
“I’m perfectly capable of getting my own drink, you know,” you said a two months after you’d told him you were pregnant and Joel had damn near held you down instead of letting you go to the kitchen. “Also capable of walking to the mess hall on my own, making my own lunches…”
“All the work you’re doin’ growing my baby, I should do something,” he replied, bringing you a glass of water. “Seems like this is the least of it.”
You might have believed him if it wasn’t for the other things, too.
You’d become insatiable during pregnancy, all but demanding sex at least once if not twice a day. You couldn’t get enough of Joel but he seemed to be able to get enough of you.
It was close to Christmas when you finally brought it up, Joel’s hands more gently roaming over your skin rather than with any desire or need.
“We don’t have to do this if you’re not interested, you know,” you said, hoping you didn’t sound too desperate.
Joel frowned, looking over your face for a moment.
“What?” He sounded completely puzzled. “Why would I not be interested?”
“I know I look different now,” you ran a hand over your growing bump and took a deep breath. “It’s OK if you’re not as attracted to me at the moment…”
“In what fuckin’ universe am I not attracted to you?” He asked, his eyebrows knitting together. “Baby, if I could spend the rest of my damn life inside you, I’d be a happy man.”
Your confusion must have shown because he brushed your hair back before adjusting your face to look at him.
“What’s goin’ on,” he asked gently. “Why are you saying this stuff.”
“You don’t touch me like you used to,” you said quietly, hoping you didn’t sound too wounded by it. “And it’s OK if you don’t want me like that right now, I don’t want you to do anything you don’t really want and…”
“Baby,” he cut you off. “I’m gonna stop you right there. I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted you more than I do right now. Not when I first met you and you were some hot young thing, not when you first got off the plane to come visit, not when I first saw you again in the QZ. Seeing you grow our baby is the most beautiful, most sexy thing in the damn world, don’t go thinking otherwise.”
“Oh,” you frowned. “Then… I don’t understand. What’s going on?”
“I just…” he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before looking at you again, a pained look on his face. “I’m scared, baby. I’m scared in a way I ain’t been since we came to Jackson.”
“Joel,” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair. “We’re OK here, we’re safe here…”
“I know,” he said. “You’re safe from infected and you’re safe from raiders but… baby, what if you get hurt? You’re the doctor here, what if something happens to you or the baby? What if there isn’t someone who knows how to save you? What if I do somethin’ to you on accident, what if I’m too rough because I’m caught up in touching you the way I want? I can’t risk that, baby, I can’t.”
“Oh Joel,” you breathed, pressing yourself closer. “You’re not going to hurt us. I promise, you’ve never been too rough with me. If something doesn’t feel right I’ll tell you but it’s OK. We’re safe. You’re safe.” You guided his hand to your breast, his large palm curving around the soft flesh. “And I want you to touch me, really touch me. Please.”
He was cautious at first, hesitant. Now that you knew he was afraid, it was easier to see it on his face and feel it in his touch. But you guided him through it, holding his hand, reassuring him, until he was lost in you and things felt right for the first time in months.
You learned how to head things off after that. When he would appear in the clinic, you would give him a kiss and tell him how you were feeling. If the baby was moving, you’d guide his hand to your stomach to let him feel them alive inside you. When you needed something at home and could see that he was restless and distracted by worry, you’d ask him for help. You started meeting him at the gates after patrol so he could see you and touch you as soon as he was back, feeling how he relaxed when his hands were on you.
When you went into labor, though, you were worried. You knew he was afraid but then, so were you. You were afraid not just of what could happen, of how it would hurt under the best of circumstances, but of how to help Joel through it, too.
But he sensed what you were doing right away, so in tune with you now. He climbed into the bed behind you, pulling you back so your head was resting on his chest.
“Don’t you dare worry about me,” he said, kissing the crown of your head. “I’ve got you, baby. Got both of you.”
You smiled a little as the contraction eased and he held you a little tighter.
“I know you do,” you relaxed into the firm, strong body of your husband. “I know.”
#fanfic#joel miller x female reader#kit answers#send asks#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x oc#lavender#lavenderversary
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a little one shot based off this request
pairing: Mattheo Riddle x reader
word count: ~700
warnings: mentions of weight, ed tendencies
You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose at you looked at the envelope in your hands. Your mother made a habit of charming her letters to read allowed to you once they’ve opened and you just weren’t in the mood to hear what you were sure was only ridicule and critique about how disappointed you were making her. Your parent’s expectations were high to say the least. You thanked Merlin for your sorting into Slytherin, hoping that keeping that legacy would at least have them showing some sort of affection, but alas you were given a letter listing more expectations now that you’ve met a previous one.
You swallowed, finally getting the courage to tear the seal. As soon as it was broken the letter finished opening on its own, folding into a pair of disapproving lips that strongly resembled your mum. You closed your eyes, ready to bar the message. “Y/n…hope you’re doing well,” your mother’s voice rang through the room as you rolled your eyes. “Your father and I got your most recent marks. We were disappointed to see you let that mudblood best you yet again, it really would be nice if you put in some effort with your studies.” You groaned, rubbing your hands over your face. You were second in your class, only behind Hermione Granger who, very obviously, was the smartest witch to come out of your generation. She was actually a sweet girl, and your mother’s use of the derogatory term turned your stomach.
You had hoped that was the gist of the letter, but your mother’s voice continued, “Your father and I also received the latest Hogwarts Herald. The photo they used of you from the last quidditch match really was awful, seems like you’ve quite a bit…larger than when you left this fall. Please remember to pace yourself at meals, chew at least twenty times before you swallow. It’ll trick your mind to think you’re fully, trust me. You’ll thank me for it later. Also, please remember to pack your nicer clothing when you come home for Holiday. You know how important those parties are for your father.” With that the letter floated down to your desk, reverting back to a simple piece of parchment.
You let out a shuttered breath, not even aware you were holding it in. Your eyes brimming with tears. “Y/n/n…” you turn your head at the sound of Mattheo’s voice, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand before standing up, trying to compose yourself. “Oh, hey Teo, what’s up?” He looked at you with sad eyes, “Was that your mum?” You nodded, putting on a smile the best you could, “Yeah, she’s, erm, just really passionate about her beliefs. No big deal, how much, uh, how much did you happen to hear?” Mattheo walked closer to you, “Heard that she wants you to starve yourself, why on earth would she say something like that?”
He went to place his hands on your hips, but you pushed them away. You walked over to your bed, sitting on the edge. Mattheo turned in his spot, “You know what she says isn’t true, don’t you, love?” You shrugged your shoulders, unsure of yourself. “Princess, you are so absolutely breathtaking. You are so strong, one of the toughest beaters I know, you’re the reason we won the last five games, that’s why they took that photo of you.” He was standing in front of you now, holding your hands in his. He brought one up to his lips, kissing your palm, then the inside of your wrist before guiding you to wrap your hand around his neck. “Every curve of your body,” his hands roaming up your sides now, “Merlin, I’m so obsessed with you.” His forehead rested against yours, noses brushing, “Don’t listen to her cruel words, because if I had it my way I’d worship you, every part of you, every night, every day.” He tilted your chin up, connecting his lips to yours. The kiss was soft, gentle, like he was breathing you in. He broke apart, a little sooner than you would have liked. He then walked around, climbing onto the bed behind you, “C’mere, let’s lay down. I wanna keep telling you how perfect you are.” His arms stretched out and you immediately climbed into his embrace. You spent the rest of the night like that, wrapped in his arms.
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Tommy Shelby ~ Dust in the Wind
*I DON'T OWN THIS GIF* *CREDIT TO GIF OWNER*
*I do not give anyone permission to repost my work in any way (translations included)*
Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 5.5k
Warnings: Discusses infant loss/stillborn, ANGST, mild language, possibly ooc Tommy
a/n: Alright, well, it has been quite some time since I've posted on this site. First, let me get a few things out. 1) This is the most self-indulgent piece I have ever written, so if you don't want to read it, please just keep on scrolling. 2) This does not mean that I am ready to start taking requests again or that I will be regularly writing again. As stated before, this is a very self-indulgent piece because I just experienced the loss of my daughter, who was born prematurely. It has completely wrecked me, and I have just finally decided to start writing again. I am trying to navigate my loss and thought maybe writing would help. It did, and although this piece is a little darker than I usually write, it was therapeutic, and I wanted to share it because I am proud of my work. I did write it as a reader insert, but if you all read it and think it would be better as an OC story, I'll change it. Anyway, this is the first time I've ever written for Tommy, so please forgive the potential out-of-character actions he has in this story. Also, it has been a bit since I watched season 3 so forgive any mistakes. I took some liberties with the story by adding different children for Tommy and Y/N and some of the things that happened in the show. Well, I hope you enjoy this story, and would really like to know what you all think.
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Y/N was no stranger to death. It was Small Heath, for goodness’ sake. Death practically ran in the water. Being deeply entrenched in the Shelby family since she was a young girl only made her acquaintance with death’s steely grip all that much closer. She had been to more than enough funerals in her 29 years of living. She was present at the cemetery when her father finally drank himself into his grave, she was there to mourn when consumption took her mother, and she showed up to support Ada when they buried Freddie. Y/N was always there when any of the Peaky boys were killed in the line of action, and she even showed up for her elderly childhood neighbor’s funeral. But this time, it was different. She wasn’t gathered in the woods on the outskirts of Small Heath to mourn for someone else. There wasn’t a stranger tucked away in the wagon standing in front of her. The Shelbys weren’t gathered to bid farewell to a distant relative or friend. The Lees weren’t generously providing this funeral for a price. No, the whole Shelby and Lee families were there for her and Tommy this time.
The heat from the flames washed over Y/N’s face, making her sweat a little, but she didn’t move. She wanted to be as close as she could possibly be. If she had it her way, she would have jumped into the wagon and let the flames swallow her whole, but Tommy’s hand tightly gripping hers anchored her to the ground. It had only been a few days. It couldn’t have been more than four, but with how time was moving, it felt like a lifetime had passed. The flames roared on, and Tommy squeezed her hand a little tighter, causing Y/N’s throat to tighten. She swallowed down the sadness trying to claw its way out of her. Y/N wasn’t going to break down in front of all these people. She didn’t want to cry at all, for that matter. It felt like it had been an endless stream of tears, and Y/N was done. If only her aching heart would catch the memo. Y/N’s eyes traveled the length of the flames until they landed on the little plaque one of the Lee boys carved for the wagon. “Lily Eleanora Shelby,” it read, and suddenly, the sadness returned with a vengeance. Y/N shut her eyes, and the events that led to this day played in her head. She was supposed to be happy. She was supposed to be full of unadulterated joy. She was supposed to be cradling her newborn baby girl. But she wasn’t. Instead, she held onto her husband’s hand like a lifeline as she watched her daughter’s wagon burn. One day. That’s all it took to completely destroy her.
Even as she stood there, watching the flames devour her daughter’s wagon, she still recounted everything she did four days ago, trying to figure out what could have possibly led to this result. Four days ago, she was a cheery 29-week pregnant woman. A stay-at-home mom who, with the help of their maid Frances, cared for her and Tommy’s three-year-old son, Benjamin. That day had started like any other. Tommy was already out, and she could hear Frances chasing Ben around his room. The little boy’s giggles echoed through the house, and she remembers smiling as she slid a hand over her round tummy. Y/N couldn’t wait for Ben to be a big brother. She got ready like any other day and eventually made her way to her son, who welcomed her presence with a hug and a kiss. The little boy rubbed her tummy, planted a chaste kiss to her navel, and smiled at her.
“I just wanted to let my little brother or sister know that I love them too, Mommy,” he had said, causing Y/N’s heart to clench. Even at three, he was a charmer, just like his father. She knelt to be at eye level with her son and lifted her hand to cradle his face.
“You’re going to be a wonderful big brother; do you know that?”
“Of course I will be, Mommy. I’ve been practicing sharing my toys with Frances and making sure I listen real good to you and daddy.” He said, standing up straighter to exhibit his full height. “Frances says I need to be a good example for the new baby, or else Santa won’t bring me any presents this year for Christmas. How outrageous is that, Mommy!?”
Y/N stifled a laugh before brushing Ben’s hair back and looking up to see Frances smirking from her spot by Ben’s block tower.
“I’m sure Santa won’t forget about you this year, honey.” She told her son. The boy gave her a toothy grin before trotting off to continue playing with his blocks.
Y/N returned to her feet and watched Ben for another minute before retreating to the new nursery. It was already put together, and she often found herself hiding away in that room. She glided her hand over the bassinet and let the soft fabric tickle her palm. The walls were already decorated with paintings of horses, some of which came from Ben, who insisted that his younger sibling have them. She sat on the rocking chair and gently rubbed her hands over her stomach, earning a little kick from her unborn child. A soft laugh fell from her lips as she looked down at her growing bump.
“Sorry to disturb you, love.” She whispered, her hands still rubbing slow circles. “Mommy just wanted to let you know she loves you very much. And so does your big brother, who is very excited to meet you.”
Another kick came.
“You’re excited to meet him, too? I’ll have to let him know.”
“Daddy loves you too, just in case Mommy forgot to mention that.” Tommy’s voice came from the doorway, causing Y/N to look up. He gave her a full smile, the one he reserved only for her and their son, and it fell over her like a warm blanket.
“Mommy was just about to get there. Had daddy not interrupted her,” she said. Tommy hummed in response as he floated across the room to kneel before her. He looked up at Y/N through his lashes and said, “Sure you were,” before removing her hands and planting a soft kiss where they had just lay.
“Daddy can’t wait to meet you,” he whispered against her stomach, his warm breath radiating throughout her body. Tommy looked up at Y/N before standing and pressing his lips to hers. When he pulled away, a smile matching his spread across her face. She was beaming. She had dreamt of being in this position for many years as a teenager, and now it was real. Thomas Shelby was hovering over her very pregnant figure in their unborn second child’s nursery. Their lively three-year-old son’s muffled laughter ricocheted off the hallway walls. It was everything she ever wanted, and she was so happy.
“What’s that look for?” Tommy asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.
“Nothing,” she hummed, gaining a skeptical eyebrow raise from her husband. “I just love you. That’s all.”
Tommy nestled his face into the crook of her neck, peppering kisses along the exposed skin. Then he pulled back, looked into her eye, and said, “I love you more than you know, Y/N.”
He gave her one more swift kiss before standing and sauntering out of the room with a smirk. The rest of the day went by like any day usually went. She sat around and read, played with Ben, ate lunch at 1100, put Ben down for a nap at 1230, and then went back to reading. Tommy was in and out, balancing work from home and the office. She could tell that day was extra tiring from how he sighed every time he left the house. It was after Tommy left for the last time of the day that Y/N got the idea to wander down to the kitchen. When she entered, the cooks were hard at work peeling and slicing vegetables.
“Good evening, Mrs. Shelby,” the head chef began, “is there anything we can do for you, ma’am?”
Y/N clasped her hands behind her back as she rocked back and forth on her heels like a guilty toddler. “Um,” she said, “actually, yes, there is.” She stepped into the kitchen and moved her hands to rest on her stomach. “I was thinking that maybe tonight you and the rest of the staff could take the evening off and allow me to cook dinner.”
The head chef’s eyes widened at her statement. Everyone else stilled for a brief moment, waiting for him to speak. “Oh,” he stammered, “b-but, Mrs. Shelby, and please forgive me if I am overstepping, but shouldn’t you be resting instead of cooking?” His eyes dipped down to her protruding abdomen before landing back on her face.
“Resting? I rest all day. Really,” Y/N said, waving the chef’s comment off, “it would be nothing. I actually miss being in the kitchen. It’ll be nice. Therapeutic.” She couldn’t miss the wide-eyed stares from everyone in the room, but she chose to ignore them. When they didn’t move to leave, she stepped forward, placed a gentle hand on the head chef’s back, and began leading him out of the kitchen.
“Trust me,” she said, “I’ll be fine. Thank you for your concern, though.”
Once she ushered the staff out, she began working on dinner. It had been a long time since she cooked, but it came back to her like riding a bicycle. She couldn’t escape the excitement that bubbled inside of her as she fell into a groove preparing dinner for her family again. She boiled the potatoes the staff had peeled, sauteed the peppers and onions, and braised the beef that was in the refrigerator. About an hour into cooking, a dull pain emanated from her lower back and into her hips. The dull pain slowly morphed into a pressure that she just assumed was normal 29-week pregnancy symptoms. It’s just the baby getting comfortable. The baby is just moving around and pressing a little harder than usual on my cervix. She ignored the feelings and finished cooking before asking the kitchen staff for help to bring the meal into the dining room. Once the table was set, Frances went and fetched her boys, alerting them that not only had Y/N cooked dinner, but she had also served it. She greeted the boys in the doorway of the dining room and gave each a kiss before they all sat to eat. That pain returned in her lower back and hips, making it hard to get comfortable in her seat. She let out a low groan of discomfort, and Tommy placed his hand over hers to gain her attention.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyebrows knitted together. She swallowed another groan that threatened to come out and nodded with a strained smile. Y/N could tell that her weak answer did nothing to reassure Tommy, but he didn’t press her.
“How do you like the meal?” She asked, doing her best to not sound strained against the constant pressure she felt pulsing between her legs.
Before Tommy could answer, Ben nodded with enthusiasm and stuffed a heaping scoop of mashed potatoes into his mouth. “I love it, Mommy! This is the best dinner I’ve ever had,” he said through his mouthful of food.
Y/N smiled, but it must have looked more like a grimace because this time, Tommy stood up and moved to her side. “Y/N,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders, “are you sure you’re okay? Should I have Frances phone the doctor?”
Y/N grabbed his hand and squeezed it as she looked up to her husband. “I’m fine, darling. I promise. Let’s just finish dinner.” She pulled his hand to her mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. Then, using her head, she motioned for Tommy to sit again. He stared at her for another moment, the line on his forehead deepening, before sighing and retaking his seat. She kept her discomfort under wraps for the remainder of dinner because Tommy didn’t mention anything until after they had put Ben down for the night and were about to crawl into bed. The pressure and pain had only grown in that short time, and she was beginning to get nervous. She was sitting on the edge of their bed, eyes shut, and taking some deep breaths when Tommy’s hands landed on her thighs. She could feel him kneeling between her legs, but she didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t want to admit that her anxiety was consuming her or that the pain and pressure had turned into abdominal cramps. It wasn’t until she suddenly felt the bed beneath her sopping wet that she looked at Tommy. He looked down and saw the fluid dripping from her nightgown and their duvet before his gaze landed on her. She could see his mouth moving, but his voice was drowned out by her rapidly beating heart. Something is wrong. She thought. This shouldn’t be happening. I’m too early. Tommy pushed away the hair that had begun sticking to her sweaty forehead, and then ran out of the room. His voice was distant, but she could have sworn he said something about calling Polly and Ada. She wasn’t sure because all she could focus on was the sharp pain that was puncturing her abdomen and the immense pressure building between her legs. Before she could comprehend what was happening, Tommy scooped her up and lay her on their bed. What about the sheets? I’m going to ruin the bed.
She must have said those thoughts aloud because Tommy quickly said, “Don’t worry about the bed, love. We’ll get another one if we have to.” The pain was only getting worse, and she had to shut her eyes and bite her tongue to prevent a groan from escaping. She didn’t know how much time had passed before Polly and Ada came rushing into the room, shoving Tommy into the hallway. When it was just the three of them, Y/N finally let out a guttural moan. She didn’t remember this much pain when she gave birth to Ben. Something is wrong. Something is not right. Those words chanted in her head like a mantra. Polly set her up on her bed while Ada used a wet towel to wipe away the sweat beading on her face.
“Just breathe, Y/N,” Polly chirped soothingly in her ear. “Ada and I are here. We’re going to take care of you.”
Anxiety coursed through her veins and unfurled in her gut when the pressure between her legs began to increase. She tried to cross her legs and prevent the inevitable from happening, but Polly and Ada wouldn’t let her. Tears of pain and fear streamed down her cheeks. She wanted to scream at them to stop and let her try to stop this urge to push. But the pain and pressure were too much, and the only sound that came out of her mouth was a low groan.
She could feel Polly’s hand between her legs, and the words “crowning” and “push” floated to her ears. Ada took her hand, and Y/N tried with every fiber in her body to not push, but her body had other plans. She held her breath and begged her body to stop forcing her baby out of her, but it was too late. The pressure was building. Climbing to a peak that felt like it would rip her in half until suddenly, she felt relief. Her heavy breathing filled the room, and she waited impatiently for the tell-tale cries of her baby, but they never came. She opened her eyes and looked at Polly and then at Ada. They both just stared back at her, and Y/N knew something wasn’t right.
“Y/N,” was all Polly whispered, and she knew. The silence was deafening. She lay there, completely exposed, bleeding, and sweaty, and waited, but her baby gave her nothing. Her eyes shut and then, without any strength to stop it, let out a crushing wail. The tears overflowed, and when she opened her eyes again, she watched the door burst open and Tommy storm in. He moved over to where Polly held their baby and looked down at their motionless child.
“Why isn’t she crying?” He asked.
It was a girl. I had a baby girl. Even through her tears and sobs, she could see Tommy’s chest rising and falling at a rapid pace.
“Why isn’t she fucking crying, Pol!?” Tommy’s voice boomed through the room and mixed with her loud cries to create the saddest song. She could see the distress in the slant of his shoulders and how he ran a hurried hand through his cropped hair. He didn’t wait for anyone to answer his question before bounding across the room and landing on the floor next to her. His hands found hers, and she could feel them shaking. His lips pressed to Y/N’s forehead and cheeks, absorbing only some of the tears that continued to cascade down her face.
“It’s okay,” he whispered, but the way his voice cracked in her ear told her he didn’t even believe those words. “I love you, Y/N.” She could hear that his words dripped with the same despair she felt. “You know that, ey? I love you, and it’s going to be okay.”
Tommy’s words echoed in her head as she watched the fire blaze around her daughter’s wagon. She wanted to be convinced that his words were true, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe them. When the funeral finished, they all returned to Arrow House, where the wake was being held. Even being in a crowded room surrounded by family, Y/N felt alone. Her whole body was like radio static – unfeeling. Tommy’s hand was on her lower back the entire time, but she still felt like she was floating away. Nothing could tether her to this reality anymore.
Several people approached her and Tommy, and with every person, a new empty comment emerged.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” which loosely translates to, “Boy, that sucks to be you.”
“I can’t even imagine what you’re going through,” which means, “I’m really glad I’m not dealing with that!”
And, “At least you still have Ben,” equates to, “You shouldn’t be upset when you still have one kid alive.”
With every consolation tossed at her feet like the change she used to find on the ground when she was a child, this unknown sensation began to build in her chest. It was heavy and wild, like an untamed animal. It was red and bared its teeth, ready to bite. It was something Y/N had never felt before. She was usually understanding, calm, and collected. She wasn’t hot-headed or easily provoked. But now, she was quickly discovering that what she was feeling was rage. Hot and stormy, it ravaged her insides, and instead of beating it back into its cage, Y/N leaned into it, letting it hold her battered and broken soul up.
After the wake, Y/N let her sadness swallow her. She hid in one of the guest rooms daily and even went as far as to avoid Tommy. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him because every time their eyes met, two things happened. 1) she could see the grief he was carrying like cinder blocks chained to his neck, and 2) she could see the way he looked at her like she was a broken piece of artwork now. She knew she was a shell of the woman she once was, but it hurt her even more to know that Tommy saw it so plainly in her, too. He didn’t see her as the strong, independent woman he fell in love with. No, now she was a ghost of her former self, and she couldn’t take his pity for having lost their daughter and herself.
Although clearly grieving, Tommy didn’t seem nearly as phased by their loss as Y/N. He was able to jump back into work, and now, nearly a week since the wake, he was back to being fully invested. If Y/N were being honest, she envied Tommy for being able to distract himself. She couldn’t do anything but hide from the memories that haunted their home and do her best to still be a good mother to Ben. When a week finally passed since laying her daughter to rest, Y/N knew she had to do something. She would talk to Polly and beg for some sort of work. She didn’t care that Polly insisted that Y/N take some “time to heal.” She needed a distraction. Being in Arrow House felt more like a prison than a home.
Y/N got dressed and began to head for the door after handing Ben over to Frances. But, as she approached Tommy’s office, she could hear him talking. She peeked through the tiny crack to discover John and Arthur sitting at Tommy’s desk.
“Ada’s handling the Communists. She’s got someone on the inside who’s giving us information,” Tommy stated. “And,” he shuffled papers around on his desk, “I’m…dealing with Father Hughes.”
“And what about the horny princess?” John asked, leaning forward and adjusting his jacket. “You gonna figure out where her family keeps the jewels?”
Tommy waved him off. “I already know.” That single statement had both his brothers and Y/N leaning forward just slightly. Tommy lay a large blueprint on his desk, causing the brothers to stand.
“They keep their entire collection in this strong room. There’s no way to get in from above without a key,” Tommy stated, flattening the paper and looking up at his brothers.
“So, what’s your plan, brother?” Arthur asked like a good soldier. Tommy straightened slightly, and Y/N could tell he was a little uncomfortable. He pulled a cigarette from his case and slid it across his bottom lip before lighting it and taking a drag.
“We’ve gotta tunnel in,” Tommy said without hesitation. Those four words landed on the Shelby men like a grenade, and Y/N could almost feel the atmosphere shift at the statement. None of them moved. It was evident that the idea of tunneling hadn’t been a thought in any of their minds since the war. Tommy cleared his throat.
“I know,” he began, “but there’s no other way. I’ve already got Johnny Dogs ready to help. He’ll set up camp where we’ll start the tunnel.”
The air was thick, and again, neither of the brothers spoke. She knew they didn’t like the plan, but they would comply because Tommy was giving the orders. Y/N watched as John and Arthur fiddled with their suit jackets, their anxious energy hitting her like a baseball bat to the face. It wasn’t until Arthur blew out a puff of air and ran his hand through his messy hair, exposing his apprehension, that Y/N knew what she would do. Without even a second thought, Y/N opened the door to Tommy’s office, and all three men turned to face her. She was only adding insult to injury as the silence in the room became even heavier. Neither of her brothers-in-law had seen her since the wake, and the uneasy energy was almost palpable. Tommy stepped toward her but didn’t get too close, which Y/N could see his brothers noticed.
“Y/N, is everything alright, love?”
Her eyes flitted between all three of the Shelby men for a moment before finally landing back on Tommy. She knew she probably looked like a deer in headlights. Her stare was frazzled, and she knew she looked a bit harried. But she still squared her shoulders and stated with the most conviction she could muster, “Let me help.”
All three men’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, but only one spoke.
“Excuse me?” Tommy asked, incredulity lacing each word. There was no going back now. Y/N had to double down on her commitment. So, she waved her hand toward the blueprints on Tommy’s desk.
“With the tunnel.”
Tommy’s eyes turned a shade darker, and Y/N could see his jaw tick. She only glanced at John and Arthur for a second, and they both looked like they might choke on the thickness of the air. She felt like she might, too, but she held her ground. She was not a fragile porcelain doll and could help her husband like she used to. Tommy coughed, then turned to his brothers and, in a calm voice, asked, “Would you mind giving me a moment with my wife, boys?”
Neither of the brothers wasted a second before hustling out into the hallway. Once the door shut behind them, Tommy’s steely gaze landed back on Y/N. Before, she would have felt a little nervous under Tommy’s intense glare. She had never inserted herself into his shoddy business in the past. But now, she didn’t care. She needed a distraction and a way to prove that she was still a force to be reckoned with even after her loss. Y/N could see Tommy trying to contain his anger as his nostrils flared and his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. His eyes shut for a brief moment as he took a deep inhale.
“Are you fucking insane, Y/N?” He finally asked, his voice level. Y/N’s mouth fell open, and she reared back just slightly. But before she could say anything, Tommy continued.
“You’ve been avoiding me, your husband, for a week in our own home, and when you decide to finally speak to me, that is what you say?”
Y/N rolled her eyes. “Tommy.”
“No, Y/N!” He shouted, causing her to startle. “You can’t just move past this!”
That statement made Y/N see red. In the week since Lily’s passing, Tommy did precisely that. Y/N’s spine straightened, and her whole body became rigid.
“Why not!?” she shouted back, stomping toward Tommy. “Is that not what you did? Pretend like we didn’t lose our daughter? You threw yourself into your work. Why can’t I do the same thing?” Her chest was heaving, and as badly as she didn’t want them to, she could feel tears pricking at her eyes. She hated that she was a frustrated crier. Her fists were in tight balls at her sides, and every muscle in her body was flexed. She was ready for a fight. She was prepared for Tommy to yell back at her. In fact, she wanted him to yell at her. She wanted Tommy to tell her how stupid her idea was and that she was out of her mind. She mentally begged Tommy to scream at her for barging in on his meeting with his brothers and even thinking about tunneling. Y/N wanted to feel the passion he usually had toward her before they lost their baby. She needed him to reassure her that she was not a lost cause he was housing but his fierce wife. But he didn’t yell. The fire in his eyes dimmed, and his features softened. The pity eyes were back, and she was struck by the sadness she was trying to escape. She shut her eyes in a lame attempt to avoid looking at her husband and keep her tears at bay, but it was futile. The tiny droplets fell down her cheeks, and when she opened her eyes again, Tommy was right in front of her. He lifted his hands to cradle her face, and she hated how she melted into his touch. It had been a week since she even looked at Tommy, let alone touched him. She couldn’t lie, she missed him. But it was easier to hide from the pain and suffering they both shared than deal with it head-on.
Y/N let out a shaky breath and looked into her husband’s eyes.
“Why can’t I, Tommy?” She asked, barely above a whisper. “Let me help you. Please.”
Tommy’s thumb stroked her cheeks, wiping away a stray tear. He cataloged her features, and for the first time in a very long time, she wished she could see into Tommy’s thoughts. She stared at him and hoped that everything she wanted to say was conveyed in her eyes. I’m no longer the same woman I was a week ago. I’m a failure as a woman and a mother. I’m alone, letting my thoughts eat me alive. I’m scared you won’t love this broken woman I have become. Her eyes pleaded for Tommy to let her prove that she could still be the same person as before. She needed to prove to him and herself that she wasn’t hopeless. But when Tommy shut his eyes and let out a sigh, she knew his answer before he even said it.
He looked at Y/N and said sotto voce, “You know I can’t, love.”
Y/N’s body went rigid, and that new familiar sensation began to bubble in her gut. She could feel it rumbling and swirling, mixing with her fear and sadness, creating an uncontrollable fury. It burned like venom, but she found herself welcoming the sting. Her once soft features hardened, and Tommy noticed the change immediately. Her stare was blank, and the joy that used to fill it had vanished. Before losing her daughter, she never understood why the war had changed Tommy. She supported him while his experiences ravaged him, but she never knew why he returned with a harder exterior than when he left. But now, after suffering such a devastating loss, she understood. There is no coming back from witnessing a tragedy.
Tommy’s rough thumbs brushed against Y/N’s tear-stained cheeks and bent until his forehead rested on hers. “Where did the woman I married three years ago disappear to?” He said, his breath fanning over her face. He pulled back, his distressed stare locking Y/N in place, and whispered, “I know she’s in there.”
The words stung like a slap to her already bruised ego. She could feel the weight of that question in every bone of her body. All her fears began raging a war inside her head, and she could feel her armor cracking. She could feel the tears clogging her throat, burning as she swallowed them down. Her lungs felt like they weren’t getting nearly enough oxygen, and she was only seconds away from either crying or breaking something. With a swift step backward, Y/N separated herself from her husband. She hated to admit that her body yearned for Tommy’s hands back on her, but she batted that thought away as quickly as it appeared. Tommy slowly lowered his hands back to his sides, and she leveled him with a callous stare.
“That woman is gone, Tommy,” she spat. “She burned to ash with her daughter a week ago.” She could see the way her words landed on Tommy like bullets striking his chest. Some of her felt bad, but the angry beast slowly becoming her new persona convinced her she did nothing wrong.
Y/N waited for Tommy to say something, anything, back to her, and when he didn’t, she turned and reached for the door. Confidence that felt different from what she was used to coursed through her body like electricity. She was a little scared of who she was becoming, but those wild and fiery feelings of rage were the only things that brought her peace. Before pulling the door open, she turned back toward Tommy and said, “If you won’t let me help you, Tommy, I’ll find someone else who will. You forget, my roots run deep in this business, too.”
Tommy let out a dry laugh. “You’re really threatening me, now, ey?”
Y/N’s grip tightened around the cold door handle, and, through gritted teeth, she growled, “It’s not a threat, Thomas. It’s a promise.” Without a second look, she flung the door open and stepped out.
John and Arthur straightened at her abrupt appearance, and she just brushed past them, letting her feet carry her toward the front of their home. She knew they heard her and Tommy’s conversation, but she didn’t care anymore. This newfound boldness that her bereavement had granted her washed away any and all anxiety.
“Hope you enjoyed the show, boys,” Y/N tossed over her shoulder toward John and Arthur. “Next time, I’ll sell tickets and make talking to my husband more worthwhile rather than a waste of my time.”
She didn’t turn back around to see their reaction to her words. Instead, she showed herself out and hopped into one of Tommy’s many vehicles. She would find another way if he wouldn’t allow her to help. The image of a tall Jewish man whom she briefly met a while back when Tommy first started expanding into London entered her mind. She knew exactly who would be more than willing to give her a hand in her effort to help the Shelby family – Alfie Solomons.
#peaky blinders#peaky blinder fanfic#peaky blinder imagine#peaky blinders fanfiction#peaky blinders fanfic#tommy shelby#tommy shelby fanfiction#peaky blinders imagines#peaky blinders imagine#tommy shelby imagine#tommy shelby imagines#tommy shelby fanfic#tommy shelby x reader#peaky blinder x reader#tommy shelby x you#tommy shelby x y/n#thomas shelby imagine#thomas shelby imagines#thomas shelby fanfic#thomas shelby fanfiction#thomas shelby x reader#thomas shelby x y/n#thomas shelby x you#thomas shelby
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Violet Eyes, Red
Pairing:
rhysand x reader (pretty sure it's gender neutral - there might be a "she" i missed while referring to you from the original draft bc second person pov is not how i write)
Summary:
you and your mate reunite after feyre defeats amarantha and this is the fallout of what the bitch did to him.
Warnings:
aftermath of SA - i can't really tell if it's graphic which tells me it is, loose description of a panic attack, PTSD, please let me know if I missed anything. guys, please, if these topics are triggering for you, don't read this fic. i am not responsible for your media consumption, but i also don't want to throw you headfirst into your trauma.
Word Count:
2,140
A/N:
literally broke my own damn heart with this one. rhys' trauma is so ignored and that needed to be rectified. rhys might be my second favorite bat boy, but he's still a lil baby who needs to be protected
The human girl had beaten her - the woman of his nightmares - once and for all. At the first moment he could, Rhysand winnowed. After fifty years, he knew there was only one place he could go. After all, it was the last Sunday of the month, and that Sunday was the day he and his mate reserved just for themselves. The High Lord and Lady would not conduct any business on that day.
You'd spend most of your day on the balcony. You'd serenade him with the piano. You'd fly around Velaris - creating patterns in the air. You'd cradle each other in your arms. He'd sketch out a new drawing - trying and failing, in his opinion, to encapsulate your true beauty.
One day, he broke that promise, that vow you had made, and went to what he thought was a simple trade meeting. That morning was the last day he saw you, and he still couldn't live with himself.
Those memories alone kept him breathing at times. When Amarantha stole his bed, his body, his hope.
Then the human girl showed up, and he tried to help her. Wanted to give her what she needed to beat the beast he didn't think he'd ever escape. But he had lost the will to pray for it. To the cauldron, to the Mother Above. Despite his pessimism, she persevered. The girl had won. And then he was free.
He was on the balcony before he could even think about it. After a quick glance around, he realized it was empty. At first, he felt a pulse of disappointment, but with the realization of how long it'd been, he breathed deeply. How could he expect you to keep up the tradition? Fifty years of solitude on those Sundays would have made him mad if your roles were reversed.
At the thought, he allowed himself to feel the mating bond. It had gone cold the moment he winnowed away all those years ago, but now it was as beautiful as he remembered. The pull of another person at the end of a tether, forever binding them in the purest forms of fate.
But he heard your thoughts, and he almost broke down in sobs at the sound of your voice in his head. Please come home, my love. I don't know how to do this anymore. Please. The last word, you were begging. Your inner voice, the one he had to get used to living without, was broken. Pleading for him to return - despite everything you'd probably heard.
And with that, he took action, winnowing to every room in the house so he would find you as soon as possible. He knew you were close; your scent wasn't stale. It was fresh, clinging to every piece of furniture you owned together.
It was the last room he checked, his office, where he found you. You sat in his desk chair; the leather more worn than he remembered. But the sight of you stopped him from rushing to you. Nursing a bottle of wine, you slouched on your elbows, hands in your hair, as more thoughts streamed through the bond.
I'm losing myself, Rhys. I don't know how much more of this I can take. I can't let myself believe you won't come back because that- that will ruin me. What she's doing to you, what she's making you do. I don't even know a fraction of it, but I can't stop it. I- I can't protect you. And I hate myself for it.
He was watching you as you sent the words down the bond, the bond that had been desolate for half a century. You run your hands down your face, not looking up from your wine, the third of many you planned to drown in.
Just get through it. Please just- just survive. Do what you have to do to come home. I'll be here. I love you. My mate.
You'd only allowed yourself to talk to him once a month. Initially, you would try to send him something every day. Thoughts, images, songs you'd learned, prayers for him. You never heard anything back, and it slowly started eating away at you. It shattered your hope every time you didn't get a response.
You'd heard the rumors, Amarantha's whore, he'd been called. Every time you heard it, it ate away at you more and more. As if he would choose that - choose to warm the bed of another when you were waiting for him at home. You knew him better than that, and you winced at the thought. He wouldn't choose it, but would she force him? Was she that much of a monster?
You had to shake that thought away for the thousandth time that night, downing the rest of the glass. As you reach for the bottle, nearly empty at that point, a hand wraps around your wrist. The touch is gentle but firm - stopping you from drinking more, but not rough enough to hurt. Instead of startling at it, the wine slows your instincts. You can only stare. The tattoos on the dorsal side interweave into vines under the sleeve. Vines you know, vines that you've held, vines that have and will continue to have free rein of your body.
Faster than you thought you were capable of, your eyes flew to its owner's eyes. Violet. The most ravishing violet. Violet you'd feared you were forgetting.
With a new urgency, you pulled yourself to your feet, your hands flying up to his face without thinking. One on his cheek, the other on his neck, pushing, pulling, grabbing, unsure if it was your mind playing tricks on you.
In your desperate touch, you missed the way he flinched.
His hands. Mother Above, his beautiful hands were on your neck too, placed at the sides. When your mind would play you for a fool, it would never let you touch him, let alone allow him to reach you. But there he was, and you could feel him. You tugged at the bond, finally noticing it was warm and delicate and sweet and serene and everything you wished you knew how to describe.
He breathed your name, barely a whisper. "I'm home, my darling. I'm home."
"You're here." The words barely escaped you, and you couldn't stop the tears. He didn't hesitate a moment, pulling you in for a frustratingly rare and fierce embrace. You clung to each other for dear life, tighter and tighter and tighter, like he'd disappear if you let him go. Frankly, you weren't convinced he wouldn't. "You're really here."
You stood like that for a while, holding each other, when he ultimately pulled away first. "Rh-Rhys, don't go-"
"I'm not," he promised, his voice raw, kissing your forehead. He took in every inch of your face. "I just wanted to look at you. My mate."
Since Rhys had been freed by the human girl, nothing had been normal. Not that you expected it to be, but you didn't anticipate just how awful a recovery for him would be. He couldn't share your bed, and you didn't mean that in a sexual manner. He couldn't sleep with anyone else in his room - if he had even been sleeping at all. He could barely stand to be touched. You knew he wanted to be able to let you, but every time you seemed to blink, he would flinch.
You had suspicions about what went on under the mountain, but you had no idea it would be so evil.
He stood before a cabinet, staring blankly into it, lost in a memory - a memory he'd been refusing to share. You understood why, but something in you told you that you needed to see. Not just for curiosity's sake but to know how to help him. Even if it was past your pay grade.
"Rhys," You called quietly for the second time. You didn't want to touch him, shock him back to reality. The fear of that setting him off more held you back. With a harsh and sudden breath, he fearfully glanced at you and around the room, forgetting where he was for a moment. "You're at home, Rhys. You came home."
"I'm sorry," He rasped, ignoring your words. His hands pulled at his hair, and you were nervous he'd start ripping it out. He backed away from you, so far away he was caught by the wall. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Your own formed at the sight of his tears, but you couldn't conjure up what he'd have to apologize for. "It's okay, honey, you're safe. It's okay."
"I didn't- I didn't want it. I swear on my life, I didn't want to."
You shook your head, not understanding. But you knew asking what he was apologizing for was the wrong thing to do. You could see it, the shame, the regret, the blame. "I know you didn't."
He squeezed his eyes shut, buried his face in his hands, and sank to the floor. He kept murmuring apologies, pleading for your forgiveness. "I betrayed you, you have to- you have to leave me."
His words shocked you, and now you were the one that flinched. "Rhysand, look at me." He visibly shrunk at the command, pulling his hands away from his face. "As far as I'm concerned, anything that happened...there...is the furthest thing from your fault. I know there are things you can't tell me, and that's okay. I'll be here when you're ready-"
"I can't!" He bellowed. "You'll never forgive-"
"Show me the memory." You demanded, your voice quiet but assertive. But you wouldn't push too hard if he was adamant about keeping you out. You knew. You knew. Based on the way he had been acting, what had happened. But you also knew he needed to show you. So someone, fucking someone, would tell him it was out of his control. He couldn't govern everything, even if he was the High Lord of the Night Court. The words hurt as they left your lips. "Because I can promise you that I will."
You weren't a daemati, but you could see him battling with himself. Debating, if showing you what really happened, would bury him deeper under the surface or pull him back up for air.
Eventually, he released a rare sob and a barely audible "Okay."
He showed you the first time, how he just laid there like a statue as her hands took everything for herself. Then, the fifth time, when she started demanding he respond, pretend he wanted it. Then, the eleventh time, when his body started reacting. Then, by the next time, he had stopped keeping count.
He showed you, whether he meant to or not, how he prayed for it to end, prayed for someone to rescue him.
How he had been praying for you.
With the confirmation of your theory, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying and failing to hold back the tears. The angry tears, wishing you could've been the one to rip her throat out. Tears that enraged you because that was not Tamlin's kill. Furious tears because that wasn't even your kill. Devastating tears because your mate not only had to play a character for so long, but he had to endure being called her whore. Like he had any fucking say.
Overwhelming tears because your mate was in pain and there was shit all you could do about it.
"Can I touch you?" The question shocks him, but he nods without thinking, confused at the request. You slowly lift your hands to his cheeks, brushing away his tears with your thumbs. "There is nothing for me to forgive you for. I know you didn't want to do any of it."
"But I-"
"Bodies respond to stimulation whether it's wanted or not. It's how we work." You explained slowly and carefully, keeping direct eye contact. "You forget, sweetheart. I can hear your thoughts when you show me a memory."
"I've-" His voice caught, putting his hands on your wrists, rubbing them up and down your arms until they got hot. "I've been so scared. That it's still happening. That all of this is going to go away, that she's not really gone, that I'm not really here, and this is just another tactic-"
You shake your head, finally pulling yourself together to say what you've wanted to say for weeks. "I swear on my life that I will never let anyone hurt you like that again. I will spend eternity protecting you from her and anyone like her. And if you forget that this is real, just ask me. I'll tell you."
His eyes darted between yours, furiously blinking. Violet eyes, red. Pleading craving begging praying.
"Is it?"
#acotar#acotar x reader#rhysand acotar#rhys acotar#rhysand x reader#rhys x reader#rhysand x you#rhysand x y/n#acomaf#acowar#acofas#rhysand#acotar fanfiction#acotar series#acotar fandom#a court of thorns and roses#sarah j maas#acotar angst#tw: sa#tw: sa mention
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Heavy Is The Head That Wears The Crown | k. bakugo
synopsis: Being the Princess meant you were arranged to marry Prince Ito of the conjoining island for the sake of the kingdom, but the last thing you want is to marry someone you don’t love, and your other suitor isn’t someone your parents approve, but how can anyone stop true love from blooming?
wc: 6.9k
tags: 18+ ONLY content + explicit smut: minors and empty blogs DNI + fem reader + not beta read + repost from my old blog + slow burn + no quirks au + forbidden love + talks about running away and doing it + I’m not well versed in the royal au but I did read up on it + enemies to lovers au but l kinda skip that + prince Ito is an OC I just came up with and he’s an ass and is misogynistic + fem pet names + virginity loss for both parties + explicit smut + fingering + unprotected sex + creampie + oral both for you and Katsuki + teasing + fluffy smut + cum eating + slight dirty talking + blood because of v loss + finger sucking + praising + breast/nipple play + Katsuki is soft and maybe ooc + overstim + I think that’s all! + again lmk any missing tag(s)!
Boring and stuffy is exactly how you would describe the scene unfolding in front of you, your parent’s ballroom is chock-full of pretentious people who fall in line with your mother and father.
The pair you despise because while you’re their daughter they have never looked at you like that before, it was always: what can you do to make their lives better? Never the other way around.
Thoughts of your childhood disappeared like a bubble being popped when you heard someone clear their throat, you turned to look who it was, an insult dripping off your tongue when you came face to face with Prince Ito, the man you were set to marry to better the Kingdom and knew it was best to keep your mouth shut.
You wanted to bite your lip, not in a sexy way either, but one that showed you were on your last nerve. He looked at you with confusion clouding his eyes and a slight smirk as to say ‘You’re stuck with me’ as his hand slipped into yours.
“We’re supposed to be getting married, so well to remember that my dear.”
Oh, how you wanted to regurgitate your dinner all over his shoes. Your eyes drifted around the packed room in an effort to ignore him, everyone was dressed in suffocating clothes, even you.
It felt like hell, the temperature of what felt like flames licking the cream-colored walls, bits of gold and warm tones drowned out everything but the piano music in the corner.
The feeling of so many bodies also added to the hellish feeling, and the damn dress you had to wear was so tight you were sure your ribs were cracking with each inhale.
That even grated your already fried nerves feeling your soon-to-be husband pulling you closer, instantly you pulled away catching the gaze of your other courtship, the forbidden man you kept close to your heart.
Katsuki Bakugo, the man that deep down in every crevice of your heart is your soulmate, you just haven’t told him yet, it was a delicate matter at hand truly.
You looked at the brown-haired man and suppressed an eye roll, his eyes roamed your body greedily no doubt wondering just when he got to rip your dress off.
He was someone your parents chose, someone who thought he was king shit of turd island, that made you smile at the mental joke. “Ready to dance?” He asked.
Again you glanced over toward Katsuki’s direction not seeing him anymore, you hummed in disappointment sweeping the room and not seeing him still but you remembered what he looked like, you always would no matter what.
Tonight he donned a dark gray suit, notes of red and dark green peeked out between the contrast of the three colors, it hugged him well, not like a second skin but enough to show off the muscles he worked hard for and the scars that littered his body.
His blonde hair was a mess as always, pieces of it always stuck up like he was in a strong wind tunnel, another thing that made you break out in a grin, the man next to you cleared his throat clearing growing irritated with you ignoring him.
“We need to show to our parents that we’re a right fit, you-”
You turned on your heel wanting to stomp on his foot but instead, you forced a smile and nodded, knowing that if you had to open your mouth insults would just fly out instead, his hand was so sweaty it made you feel gross to even hold.
Prince Ito made his way through the people that instantly parted letting you two through, he really wasn’t a prince to you anyway, just another whiny man-child whose family came from the other island that was situated next to your parents. The land didn’t belong to them, or anyone really in your opinion.
But it didn’t matter, you were a good they could trade to better their lives, your life was at stake pretty much, honestly, at times you felt no better than the hard pieces of bread that the island’s trade, one has more fruits and grains than the other and the Ito island has oil and the vegetables, so a lot of trading was done.
Even your own life was something that was traded, your family could produce an heir for his family, and yours and his parents were like yours, however, you and your wanna-be husband felt very different about that. He basked in the glow of being the only child, his pompous attitude made you ill and your eyes roll.
“What has your attention my sugarplum?” Ito asked as he tugged you to the middle of the floor, bodies made their way to the side to let you both dance, his hand clasped yours never letting go, his other arm wrapped tightly around your waist keeping you pinned against him.
The use of the nickname was enough to make you visibly roll your eyes this time catching him off guard. If anything, you both need to keep a clean image, not a princess who would roll her eyes and defies the man. “Sorry, and nothing does. I’m just getting a bit famished.”
“Well, in that case, I have a stick of meat that could fill you.” His hands slid down to your ass cupping the flesh, or well what he thought it was, most of it was your damn dress that he bunched up making you very uncomfortable.
Your lips curled in disgust, and your free hand came to stop on his chest pushing him away to get some fresh air, and not his rancid breath filling your nostrils, it wasn’t awful smelling, it was the vibe you got from him that was musty and each time he opened his mouth it poured out.
Ito growled low in his throat, which was meant to come across as a warning of sorts but all it did was make you angrier, and just about as you were to say something you felt Katsuki step behind you, his scent instantly calming.
“I think the princess doesn’t want to dance with you anymore, Prince Handsy.” He muttered in a low tone that made you shiver.
It wasn’t a death threat which is something he throws out to anyone who inconveniences you, his fiery eyes never left the other man who stared back. It was a warning for now.
Before you or Ito could say anything, Katsuki removed you from his grip and out of the ballroom letting you melt against him, his back pressed against the wall as you all but tried to merge with him. “Thank you for that, he was getting on my nerves.”
“I could tell, sugarplum,” He teased with a smirk as he stared at you, the words on the tip of his tongue, the ones you so desperately wanted to spill like ink on paper, the both of you know that him being nothing but a royal guard for your family and you the princess it would never be approved.
But that didn’t stop you, Katsuki has been by your side since you were both children, you met him outside of the gates the one day you were able to slip away from the guards, at seven years old it wasn’t hard to fit it when you did get free.
Just as soon as you walked into the mouth of the town, with dusty cobbled roads and people milling about buying and trading goods, someone ran into you, a blonde boy around your age chasing two boys, one with red hair and the other with black and green hair.
Blondie was yelling at the two-toned boy, something about him being a loser or to that effect while swinging his toy sword around in triumph.
His lips curled almost in disgust when you approached them ready to join in, other children weren’t invited into the kingdom so the life you led thus far has been extremely lonely.
“We don’t play with girls.” Blondie snarled holding a wooden sword, his tattered clothes held a belt around his waist.
“I can tell, no need to be rude about it. Scared a girl is going to kick your butt?” You spit glaring at him as you grabbed the Red’s sword from his hands, his small mouth popping open staring at you getting into a fighting stance.
Red opened his mouth ready to say something before you drew the toy with a wide grin setting it against Blondie’s neck, his vermillion eyes swept over your whole body taking in your appearance, it was clear you belonged inside the gates and not out and Katsuki knew.
“No, I’m not, but you need to scram princess before you get hurt.”
Both of you were caught in a stare-off, everything around you melted away as you took in his appearance, dirt streaked through his hair and on his cheeks, it was just as clear that he was a family that lived far away from the castle gates, and that made you angry.
Not at him, but at your parents and all the adults who think this is okay, something you really can’t fight about now but now with the judging stare from Blondie it made you angrier, just as you opened your mouth to say something you were picked up and escorted back home.
The Queen made sure her servants scolded you instead, but all they did was make sure you were washed up and ready to go in the morning for some type of benefit the King threw.
Then a year later little Blondie came into the kingdom after losing his village and was raised as a royal guard, mostly to you due to how close you two were in age.
Now that you and Katsuki are in your mid-twenties the tension of being enemies melted away, but not all of it. Sometimes you two still nipped at each other.
But right now all you could focus on was being with Katsuki like this, his arms wrapped around your waist letting you sag against him. “I really don’t want to marry him, he’s no better than the cow pies in the fields.”
“Cow pies? You mean shit. Prince Idiot is pure flaming hot-”
You slapped your hand over his mouth hearing footsteps down the hall, fear wrapped around your spine like a frozen hand. No doubt it was the other guards, the ones who were under your parent’s thumb, unlike the man you were pressed against right now staring at you intently.
Do you understand that Katsuki would run away with you? He’d never let you go without, even though it won’t be in the kingdom he still wanted to care for you. He could hear the hushed tones of the men, your name making you curl more into him scared they’ll find you.
He wanted nothing more than to grab their heads and knock them together, anything that caused you stress weighed on him too, a much different person he’s become Katsuki thought as his fingers curled in your dress kissing your forehead. “Shh.” He told you before stepping out of the shadows.
“She isn’t over in this area, I thought I saw her but it was a dead lead,” Katsuki told them, his voice never wavered or showed he was lying, you watched him drinking him in, the way he all but towered over a lot of people including you, tall and just there. He’s the best guard to have.
One guard nodded while the others looked at him with curious looks, of course, it wasn’t a secret but to you and Katsuki that you two were madly in love, everyone could tell, however, it was still not seen by each other for some reason you were both blinded by it.
Once they turned and left back to the ballroom to report to your parents you stepped out of the shadows to envelop Katsuki in a tight hug, his arms quickly wrapped around you not really wanting to let go just yet, you both stood there in the large hallway in a warm embrace.
He smelt like warmth and spices, along with an earthy undertone that made you want to run away with him to the forest, the both of you could easily make a home and you would do it in a heartbeat, Katsuki means way too much to you to let go, you buried your face in him before stepping away looking at him, the charged gaze made you almost beg for a kiss.
Instead, you slipped your hand in his and kissed his gloved-clad one. “I should get back, but I promise to see you later.” You left him with a kiss on the cheek before turning away feeling the sting of tears knowing he doesn’t see you the way you see him, he thinks of you like a sister or the annoying Princess he has to babysit.
Katsuki stood rooted in his place growing angry at himself, sure, he was brash and crude and had not a problem telling anyone off but when it came to his feelings he choked on them because he was terrified you’d laugh at him when he confessed. That’s something he’s not sure he would be able to handle.
He hasn’t even kissed anyone else, you’re literally his first for everything, and by kissing it’s just a peck on the forehead from him and you always leave a lipstick print on his cheek or sometimes you’ll hold his head and give him a forehead smooch.
You always left him with something, whether it is a hug, kiss, some type of gift or even just patting his hand there was always something that left him wondering about you during the night, sometimes he’d touch himself just like you do but that was a secret you’d both die with before telling each other or anyone else.
Thankfully, he was a few rooms down from you in case something happened and he can reach you, and it’s shocking that your parents would let him because they sense the relationship that has been blooming since childhood, but Katsuki is the only person who would protect you this fiercely.
With a great sigh, he entered the ballroom again, his stupid outfit made him itch all over, it wasn’t his usual uniform but a suit to make him blend in a bit better with the crowd, but everyone knew who he was, it was very obvious uniform or not.
Katsuki watched you with him, Ito’s arm around your waist keeping you flush against him, his other hand holding yours in a tight hold making sure you didn’t leave him, the possessive gesture made his blood boil, but he knew it wasn’t the right time to say anything or do something.
He wasn’t even sure if you felt the same way he did, so all Katsuki did was lean against the wall watching the other people dance, his red eyes swept over everyone keeping his gaze still on you mostly, it was clear you were uncomfortable.
Your eyebrows were pinched in the middle and your lips were in a thin line pressing them together, he knew you were irritated and not very happy about dancing with him this close, the asshole thought he knew you from head to toe.
Ito attempted to make a joke he heard when he came closer, the smell of your heavy perfume only worn by you made his stomach erupt with a million butterflies it felt like, their soft wings brushing against each other, if anyone else wore it, it made him sick.
Your eyes connected with his in a heated gaze looking at him with a soft smile, the look Ito caught on made him curl his fingers under your chin turning you to face him with a sick smile, his lips were cracked and you swore you smelt the evil from him.
“Why do you keep looking at everyone but me? I’m the only man you need to be staring at.”
Sickness crept up your throat as his eyes burned into yours with such intensity, there was something that made a chill rack your body, just when you opened your mouth to reply your Father interrupted.
“We need you two to come to the front please, it’s time to announce the marriage between him and you to the Kingdom.”
Your heart dropped all the way to your stomach, dread replaced everything you felt, and the reality of the situation is coming to a head, once that is announced what was happening you knew it would be harder to get out of, and if you left you’d be shunned from the Kingdom and your parents.
Ito smiled and squeezed your hand with a sicker grin, the gleam in his eyes reminded you of a demon that terrorized the village well before you were born but the pictures and stories that were passed down by each generation were fresh in your mind.
“Can you please give me a moment? I’d like to freshen up before we do anything.” You asked with a soft smile, it hurt to force it but thankfully neither Ito or your Father could tell, even when they watched you walk to Katsuki to ask him to walk you to your room.
Once you both were out of the ballroom and out of ear shop from people you slid your hand in his. “We’re leaving right now, my dad wants to announce the marriage between us and I can’t do it, I won’t. I refuse to end up miserable like my mom.”
Katsuki watched you with a smirk as he followed you to your room, after the door was shut you looked around taking it in once more, the room that has housed you for the past twenty-some years is now held so many memories.
It made your heart crack a bit, and tears stung your eyes but you buried that for a moment and packed a small basket you kept under your bed away from prying eyes. “Are you sure this is what you want?” Katsuki asked taking things he could sell.
There was no way in hell he was going to leave you alone and you knew that. “Yes, this is hell on earth and I don’t want to be a Queen, I can’t do what they do, and know what I know. When I first met you-” You stopped mid-sentence and sighed.
He sat on the edge of your bed watching you intently, his lips pressed in a thin line like yours were earlier, you knew he was chewing on his next sentence holding the things in his bag that sat in his lap before helping you pack the nightgowns.
All your other dresses wouldn’t fit in and the last thing you want is to wear them anymore, now it is time for you to live your life. The way you want to, and it wouldn’t matter if you tried to set new rules, they would be overruled by King Ito.
The thought of what was to come made you shiver. “Thank you, Kats, I really do appreciate what you’re doing.” You told him finishing up your packing.
“Don’t thank me and don’t call me that, I told you that before.” He grumbled standing up, but you knew he was joking a bit, his nickname as a kid made him think about the way he feels about you, and now is not the time.
Quickly you both finished up and got everything ready, briefly Katsuki wondered why anyone hasn’t come to get you yet but they think he’s helping you.
Oh, is he really helping you with everything you need. He peeked his head out of your door turning his head side to side and sweeping the empty halls, he strained to listen for footsteps.
Silence only greeted him, giving you both one minute to sneak down to the door that led outside from the lower level, it was a secret you discovered years ago.
Katsuki held your hand tight leading you down the flight of steps, momentarily pressing yourselves against the wall hearing voices carry down the stone hall.
“Make sure to stay hidden.” He reminded you giving your hand a light squeeze while glancing back at you, quickly you fixed the silk around your head covering most of your face up.
You nodded staying silent but only to take a deep breath in when you stepped outside, the sun instantly warmed you up, and the free feeling you got only amplified.
“Go look for her!” Both of you heard a voice cry out, thankfully now under the bridge so no one could see you watching a few guards and your mom and dad, then of course, Ito was standing in front of everyone with his arms crossed over his chest looking like an angry child.
You giggled a bit catching Katsuki’s attention who looked over at you with furrowed eyebrows, his hand coming up to muffle your laughter at the supposed man who you were set to marry, his face screwed up and red as he sputtered out more threats and demanded they find you.
After you removed his hand away from his mouth you turned around to face the wall, looking behind your shoulder at him, the way your lips parted made his cock twitch in his pants as you smiled softly. “Please unlace this, I am dying and I can’t breathe in this stupid thing.”
Katsuki stepped closer to you, his gloved fingers untying the silk watching you inhale deeply, the charged air around you two crackled with sensual and high tension, he could smell your sweet shampoo and you, his musk, how bad you wanted to turn, and kiss him sat in your stomach like a rock.
“Thanks, Kats, I appreciate you and this too.” His mouth was open ready to snap at you until you turned around to stare at him, tears gathering in the corner of your eyes with a sad smile, and he thought it was because you were going to miss your family, but that was the least of your worries.
He opened his arms letting you settle in them melting against him. “You’re my favorite pain in the ass, you know?” Katsuki said looking at you, fire dancing in his vermillion eyes.
“I hope I’m the only pain in your ass, otherwise what would be the point?” You asked in a teasing tone batting your heavy lashes and hearing the people fade away from the bridge, most likely going back to check the castle again, the sad look you held now faded.
An hour later you both didn’t hear anything, not even people walking over the bridge, Katsuki told you to wait there while he checked, thankfully no one was around when he helped you up the grassy cliff and quickly drag you to the edge of the forest, the sun setting cast a shadow over you both.
“I found a small house when I was exploring and over the last few months I made sure to add some fire logs and clean it up for us,” Katsuki told you getting past the mouth of trees, it was a plan set in stone the moment you turned ten, the age you were told about marrying Ito.
Hand in hand you walked close to him using him for warmth and comfort glancing around the bare trees, it was beginning to get cooler and the trees were now losing their buds, the warm air becoming rigid. “This is why you’re my favorite pain in the ass.”
Katsuki chuckled and rolled his eyes huffing a bit at the compliment, he stayed silent the entire walk never letting go of your hand as he led you to the small house, more like a cabin that has been sitting there unoccupied until now, thankfully he cleaned all the spiderwebs and stuff up.
The sun dipped almost to the horizon by the time you both reached the front door, sweat beaded along your nape watching Katsuki toe the heavy wood open letting you in first taking in your new living situation, everything was in the big square, minus the bathroom thankfully.
A huge bay window faced the back of the house giving you a clear view of the tall trees, you dropped the bag and began to undress yourself down to the thin slip you wore under all the layers before sitting on the creaky bed, the springs groaning under your weight.
Katsuki watched you with heated eyes, it was not the time to pop a boner but it couldn’t be helped seeing you flop on your back, the bottom hem of your dress rolling up to your mid-thigh. “This is so much better than that castle, it was so stuffy and miserable there, the ghosts haunting us.” You murmured out loud staring up at the wooden ceiling noting the decay.
“You really still think ghosts roamed those halls?” He asked kicking his heavy boots off before moving to the fireplace and setting it up, the fire crackling instantly warming up the small room Katsuki sat in front of it removing his gloves and hearing the bed creak as you rolled to your side.
“Yep,” You popped the p and sat up crossing your legs, “I sure do, you’ve heard all the stories they told us and everything that’s been going on, all of the people who lived there I believe are condemned to stay there forever, why should their souls rest when they put our people through hell? I can’t be the Queen for that reason, let alone Ito’s wife.”
You spit venom saying his name, the feeling of his creepy stare and his hands made you ill thinking about it. “I understand, and you’re-” Katsuki cut off swallowing his tongue, the confession almost spilled from his lips.
“I’m what?” You asked getting off the bed to walk over to him crouching down next to him, your head laying on his back before wrapping your arms around him, the feeling of your touch made his heart jump to his throat.
“Nothing, you need a bath though. You stink.” He murmured changing the topic and lucky for him it worked this time, you giggled and smacked his shoulder gently knowing standing up and grabbing your basket of clothes and washes.
Katsuki joined you pulling his gloves back on before opening the door and holding his hand out for you, it was an unspoken agreement just in case something happens and he feels better knowing he can protect you if something happens.
Thankfully it was only a short walk to the clear creek that ran between several trees packed together, the cool wind bit at you but it felt nice being in the cramped room, and you knew your nipples were pebbled and rubbing against your silk slip, the moonlight was perfect this evening giving him a clear view of you.
Katsuki did everything not to look, he doesn’t want to think of himself as someone like Ito knowing he would stare without a care in the world. “Are you just going to watch?” You asked with a sly smile setting the woven basket down and watching him turn his back to you shaking his head.
“No, I’m not a creep. Just hurry up woman.” He mumbled crossing his arms over his chest and listening to you slip into the cold water, you gasped at the sensation and splashed around the water once you got used to it.
Katsuki never once turned to look, even though his heart was beating a bit too fast for him and the fact that his dick had a mind of its own getting hard, the tip leaky and sticky in his pants made it uncomfortable and shameful. Being a virgin at this age was embarrassing enough.
He wanted to palm himself in the worst way possible, it was difficult not to, especially when he glanced back at the same time you came back up breaking the water’s surface, your skin bare to his eyes feasting on you, water dripped down your face like it was his favorite wet dream.
“Are you watching your best friend bathe? You little pervert.” You teased splashing water over the muddy sides of the creek with a smirk, it warmed you more than anything knowing he wanted to stare, you could read him like an open book now and the thought of him liking you more than friends was enough to get out and dry off then get dressed.
Katsuki ignored you and your antics knowing if he spoke it would come out hoarse, thick with desire then he felt your hand slide in his before walking back to the house, the moon high and bright giving you both plenty of light to guide you both back where he locked every window up.
Once you were warmed up and dried off you slid in the bed with Katsuki watching him sit on the side, his ass almost hanging off while he was still fully dressed, boots including. “Are you going to sleep in your clothes? You’re wearing leather and it doesn’t look comfortable.”
“I’m fine,” He mumbled causing you to frown, he went rigid feeling you crawl over to him kneeling behind him, your fingers dancing over his broad shoulders as you leaned in kissing his cheek and shaking your head.
“Don’t be scared, it’s not like I haven’t seen you almost naked anyway.” You murmured in a teasing voice, your lips pressed against the shell, and while you couldn’t see the goosebumps raising over him you knew they were by the way he shivered.
Katsuki growled softly when your fingers slid down his chest now pressing your chest against his back, his hands coming up to yours stopping them. “I-” His voice was strained as he stayed still looking down at the floor.
It’s now or never you thought feeling warmth trickle through you. “I love you Katsuki, so much, I harbored these feelings for long enough now I think and you helped me through everything. We fought at times and got on each other’s nerves but I don’t want anyone but you.”
He turned his head to stare at you, his own words dying on his tongue and instead of speaking them Katsuki leaned in and kissed you, his lips sought yours in a tender meeting that slowly grew needy until you were seated in his lap, your tongues tangled together now.
It was sloppy with your arms wrapped around his neck, the bottom hem of your slip rolled up to your thighs as you grabbed his left wrist holding his hand to your swollen lips staring at him with lust-blown pupils bitting down on the leather removing his glove before moving to the other one.
Katsuki thought his dick was going to explode right then and there feeling the warmth of your bare pussy soaking into his pants, your eyes trained on his and half-lidded as you leaned back in to kiss him again swiping your tongue between his lips before pecking them several times.
“I’m a virgin.” You whispered against his lips. Now he was sure it would explode. Your confession set his heart on fire, he was sure this was your first kiss just like him, the both of you took the time to explore each other’s bodies, first, you removed his gloves then his leather jacket and shirt running your open palms over his chest and stomach.
Katsuki laid on his back letting you straddle him, his own fingers tracing up and down your arms eliciting goosebumps as he pulled the straps of your dress down baring your breasts to him, the fire crackled in the background but you still heard him suck in a deep breath as he cupped the flesh.
He palmed them at first before running his hands up and down your sides, then back to your breasts and shoulders, everywhere he touched left a trail of fire and desire, needy you leaned down kissing him again letting him hold your hips tightly grinding you against him.
“I’ve always thought about this Kats, you’re much better than my dreams.” You whispered in his ear trailing kisses all over his face and neck that you littered with love bites, he stared at you with pink cheeks as he huffed before quickly flipping you to your back.
He grunted in response settling himself between your spread legs. “Lift that pretty ass of yours up.” You were quick to listen lifting your hips and butt up watching him shimmy off your slip, his vermillion eyes feasted upon your naked form just as you did the same thing.
Katsuki had no idea what to do, his first action was kissing your thighs nibbling a bit, he listened to your moans and pleas and how you fisted the sheet wanting him to kiss you where it really mattered. His tongue lolled out once he was face to face with your slick pussy.
He inhaled your musk deeply making sure to ingrain it inside him, he wanted to devour you, the woman who put the sun and moons in the sky for him, the only person who understand the broken part of him, you always saw him as who he is and never what he pretended to be.
Your fingers curled in his blonde locks when he licked a wide stripe up your pussy from your fluttering hole all the way up to your clit which he sucked in at first before swirling the tip of his tongue around the bud, he still wasn’t sure if this was okay but judging from your sounds it was.
Never has anyone told him how to please a woman or anything, but you were such a good teacher, and letting him explore, he pulled away spreading you open. “Ow! Not so rough!” You mewled when he did it a bit too much.
“Sorry, I’m a virgin too.” He admitted watching you sit up, your eyes filled with hot need, the thought of him giving you something so special caused your heart to swell in your throat, you leaned down and kissed his head before laying back again.
He continued gaining the courage to rub at your clit, at first he rubbed your left lower labia before letting you move his fingers to the throbbing bud moaning his name over and over until he slowly slid his fingertip inside you. “Holy shit.” Katsuki groaned feeling you tight around him.
Every piece of you filled the missing pieces of him, all the cracks in his heart you filled with your own love, one of the many things he loved about you, and oh how it grew over the years once you two were over the bickering and knew it was better to get along.
Now his heart beat just for you, nothing else mattered really to him but to protect you, and his goal was to make sure you didn’t marry Ito and now here you are under him moaning his name fucking yourself back on fingers and humping his mouth.
It didn’t take him long thankfully in figuring out what you liked and how to make you feel good, his tongue buried in your cunt sucking and licking away the mess you made from the first orgasm that he talked you through. “So good, keep coming for me, sweetheart.”
Katsuki ground his own hips against the bed fucking the blanket wanting to desperately feel you around him, he just didn’t want to cause you any more pain, he pulled away smelling the heavy sex in the air along with the damp earth undertones.
He looked down at you with the moonlight washing over him from the bare windows, the fire behind him cast a glow making it look like he was a king and he was, he’s your King. “Katsuki, please, I need you.” You begged with a hoarse voice from the moaning and whimpering.
Quickly he pulled his fingers out sliding his hand up your stomach and between the valley of your breasts. “Part those pretty lips for me.” He demanded in a gentle tone watching your lips open, his fingers pressed in on your tongue.
Closing your lips around him you held his wrist sucking his fingers clean never breaking his stare while grinding your pussy against his throbbing cock coating the length of him with your slick feeling the tip barely grazing your fluttering hole with a soft sigh.
“Katsuki - please I wanna taste your dick.” The lewd words spilled from your mouth when he removed his fingers with a groan quickly sitting on his ass and spreading his legs watching you scramble to kneel between his thighs rubbing them.
He watched you bend at the waist to kiss and lick the head tasting the salty pre-cum, your fingers wrapped around the base giving it experimental jerks of your wrist glancing up at him, his eyes screwed shut, your mouth and hand much better his own palm and thoughts.
“You look so pretty with my dick like this, I love how you taste too. I-I love you.” Katsuki admitted in a rush of words, he stared at you afraid of your next reaction.
“I would die for you. Kill for you, do anything you asked me to if you found peace or pleasure or whatever else from it. Please, please, let me burn the world around us for you, I never want to leave this place unless it’s with you, you’re my home and heart.” You whispered your own confession.
Katsuki pushed you on your back again covering his body with yours pressing your legs back and open seeking your mouth in a hot and deep kiss moving his hands to hold yours, fingers intertwining together. “The only peace and pleasure I get are from staring at you, being in your presence is nothing better, all the finest gold in the world has nothing against you.”
His words swirled in your head as he slowly slid the head of his cock inside you feeling you tighten around him at first trying to push him out, you whined softly wrapping your arms around his neck. “Take me, I know you can, this pussy is mine now and my dick is all for you, so take it the way you were meant to princess.”
“Oh my, Katsuki!” You yelped when he pushed deeper until he was halfway in he pulled out seeing a thin sheen of blood, the guilt ate at him but feeling you tug on his neck which pulled him away from his thoughts.
“I’m ok, please don’t stop.” You murmured kissing his jaw with soft kisses as you ground your hips seeking more of him, Katsuki bared his teeth at how tight and wet you were when he bottomed out with a low growl in his throat.
He stayed still letting you adjust to him, stars burst behind your eyes giving him the last piece of your soul. “I love you Katsuki Bakugo.” You whispered kissing him again in a silent way to tell him it was okay to move.
Katsuki rocked his hips against yours going slow while reaching his hand down between your bodies to rub at your clit feeling you tighten around him with a loud moan. “I love how your pussy molds to me, told you we were meant to be.” He groaned in your ear picking up the pace.
Pleasure clouded all thoughts as you ground your hips against him when his mouth latched on your nipple sucking it deep in his mouth fucking you harder now, the only thing you could feel was him, not the warmth from the fire, not the sheets under you or anything else.
Katsuki has now totally invaded you and everything else, but it was a mutual feeling, the way he kissed every inch of skin while making love to you now, his praises melted and dripped down to the pool of hot desire in your stomach.
“You will have my last name someday, maybe even soon. Now we can be together, forever.” His forehead rested against yours before he pulled away and out helping you to your hands and knees, the pillow was shoved aside as he slowly thrust back in feeling his orgasm bubble up.
His hands held your hips in a tight hold bottoming out, he kept a soft pace letting you bounce back against him chasing your own high, his balls tightened when you threw your head back staring at him moaning his name and quickly he came filling you up thick and warm.
He wasn’t done by any means, once you both came down from the highs he laid on the bed helping you straddle his lap and riding him while holding his hands and grinding your hips down before bouncing up and down and hearing the creaking of the bed fill the small room.
“Katsuki! You feel so good inside me!” You panted feeling sweat drip down your back while using his cum as lube to sit all the way up leaving just the tip in before slowly dropping back down finding his mouth in a hot kiss fucking him wildly.
Neither of you was sure how long it was before you both lay next to each other panting and sweating, his cock soft and aching as you rolled to your side curling against him with a soft smile and droopy eyes from exhaustion seeping in. “Let’s do that every night.”
Katsuki nodded in agreement knowing that you both were finally happy and free together, forever.
#tw: virginity loss#Katsuki smut#Katsuki x reader smut#katsuki bakugo smut#mha fanfiction#mha smut#katsuki x reader#Katsuki Bakugo smut#my hero katsuki smut#katsuki x yn smut#katsuki bakugo x reader#katsuki x you smut#katsuki x y/n smut#mha x reader#mha katsuki smut
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He tapped the fragile shell of the egg against the edge of the bowl, humming a small Italian love song to himself as he cracked it into the large bowl. His bangs held back by a pink clip that he had 'borrowed' from his oh so generous fiancé. He didn't bother keeping quiet, as he knew you would be sulking in the corner of your shared bedroom after the argument. His ego wouldn't let him apologize to you just yet, so you'd have to settle for the cooking he was currently making. Cookies. His mother's recipe.
One hand holding the pan with the other kneading the dough, he glanced at the closed bedroom door. He rolled his eyes, wondering when you'll finally decide to come out just to sass him again. He didn't mind, he liked your attitude.
What he didn't like, however, was how you had decided to go ahead and flirt with some other guy, just to spite him. He squeezed the dough in his fist tightly at the thought. You shouldn't be with any man other than him. Only he deserved to be yours. No one else.
He kept those feelings to himself, however, refusing to cause any problem of sorts with the love of his life.
He rolled the dough and sliced it into a few small pieces, all while thinking about you and that man you had decided to try and 'seduce'. He hadn't gotten the chance to be alone with that man, as much as he had wanted to show him why you were his and his alone. Why did that bastard get to make you laugh like that?
“He shouldn't have even gotten the privilege to live on the same ground as you do,” Levi thought to himself as he scooped a bit of cookie dough into the palm of his hand.
He had been quiet for most of the fight, watching you and your attitude that he usually handled so well. But he couldn't, not this time. How could he? When his mind kept wandering back to the image of you touching that bastard over and over again? He had half a mind to put you in your place tonight, although he pushed that thought away for the time being. He wouldn't let himself get carried away. He was angry, but he still cared about you enough to not go too far. He hadn't yelled at you during the fight, he had just been scolding and rambling on and on about why you shouldn't have let that guy touch you. Are you crazy?! He remembered himself saying.
You had to be. You knew all too well what happens when you manage to get him angry.
His hands absentmindedly shaped the dough into little balls, his thoughts already preoccupied by you. He was quickly finished with the food, letting it bake as he watched it with a blank expression. He was simply standing there, wearing a black apron, staring at the food as it cooked. He didn't know why, but he couldn't shake off the feeling of irritation. It wasn't like him to get jealous easily, but he couldn't help it this time. He let a small sigh leave his lips, turning to plate the readied sweet dish.
He left it on the dining table, not bothering to call you. He knew you wouldn't come if he called you anyway, but he also knew you'd come out eventually. You'd get hungry and sneak out of the room to find something you could eat. The corners of his lips curled up ever-so-slightly at the thought.
He turned and left to the living room, sitting down on the couch where he had made himself a cup of tea and his favorite book. He waited patiently, knowing you'd come out anytime now, until he finally heard the bedroom door creak open. He didn't spare you a glance as you reluctantly took the plate of cookies. You looked at him with a scowl, “You think I can't cook for myself?”
He easily ignored you, sipping his tea as his gaze remained fixated on the passage he was reading with a calm expression on his face. This wasn't the first time he had ignored your mere existence.
“Wow, you're ignoring me too now?” You retorted, rolling your eyes when he stayed silent. He wordlessly glanced up at you, taking a long, taunting sip of his tea, just to make you mad. His plan worked, as you began to reprimand him angrily. He simply watched you, calmly sipping his tea with one hand while the other held his book.
“Are you done now?” He spoke nonchalantly once you finished.
“No--” You began, before he quickly raised his hand for silence, cutting you off. He snapped his book shut, set the cup of tea on the coffee table, and gestured for you to come closer. Reluctantly, you did.
“Closer,” He spoke in a demanding tone. His finger gesturing you closer.
The moment you stepped within reach, he grabbed your arm and pulled you down onto his lap. You let out a gasp at his sudden act. You looked at him with your hands resting on his shoulders. His large hands held your waist, keeping you in place as he pressed a long, deep kiss to your lips. He pulled back after a moment.
He looked at you solemnly, though his eyes held a hidden warmth, “Will you behave now?”
Seeing your nod, his lips curved up into a smile. “Good girl. C'mere, angel.” He gently grabbed your face with one hand and pulled you in, planting a passionate kiss against your lips.
Once he pulled away, he ran his long, slender fingers through your hair, enjoying the feeling of the strands between his fingers. He smiled softly at you, pecking your lips once again. He held you close to him, one arm wrapped around your waist while his other hand guided your head to his chest and letting you rest against him.
He kissed your forehead, murmuring softly against your skin, “He can't kiss you like this, can he? Only I can. Remember that, yeah? I love you, angel.”
1034 words, 5504 characters
#levi fluff#levi ackerman#attack on titan#levi x reader#levi#aot#levi aot#levi ackerman x reader#shingeki no kyojin#snk#captain levi#snk levi#shingeki no kyoujin levi#levi attack on titan#levi x y/n#oneshot#aot levi#aot fandom#aot anime#attackontitan#attack on titan levi#attack on titans#aot modern au#modern au#cooking#aot x y/n#aot x you#aot x reader#aot x female reader
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Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead's Sister in Law!
Re-upload due to complications.
Chapter 1
Dion x Fem! Reader
Warnings: possible yandere themes, arranged marriage, toxic relationship, slight incestual themes due to the content of “Roxana,” blood, mention of murder
Nsfw warnings: Lost of virginity (both parties?), fingering, oral (fem receiving), spit, reader does NOT get to finish, vaginal pain, HEAVY DUB/CON.
Disclaimer: I do NOT condone any of the harmful and dangerous actions/behaviors that takes place in this piece of fiction. These actions/behaviors should not be normalized or romanticized as they are extremely toxic and dangerous.
Minors/blank/blogs that don’t reblog fanfiction dni and don’t span like my posts or you will be blocked.
Overall story summary: you reincarnated into one of your favorite novel-turned-webtoons. However, you didn't want to become the female lead's sister-in-law...
Word count: 4542k
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“The Way to Protect the Female Lead’s Older Brother,” also known as “ROXANA” was a rather dark novel that was adapted into a webtoon. And as luck would have it, the webtoon wasn’t finished, and you don’t remember all the details of the fan translated web novel you found online.
Now, why would that be a problem? Simple:
You reincarnated into it. Not as a main character, or even a servant to one of the families. You weren’t a child of Lant’s or one of his many wives. You weren’t a friend to one of his children, either. Instead, it was worse than most of what was listed.
Whatever God you managed to piss off had a silly little, petty revenge plan that was straight out of a third-rate horror novel with teenage girls fawning over it. And truthfully, if written right, the non-existent novel would have been a banger – but no, instead it was anything but. Or maybe you only really think that because of your position in this world, where your birth was simple, but painful for your mother, and you were lucky enough to be born into a family that loved and cared for and about you.
It was a noble family, to boot. Wealthy enough to live a comfortable life. Two siblings – an older sister who was already married at the age of thirty with a child on the way. The other was a 12-year-old boy who made it his life mission to be the most annoying little piece of shit on earth.
But as you lay on your back, hands holding your nightgown in place, all you could think about was how small Dion Argece makes you feel. The wedding ceremony just finished up hours ago, and here you are, back pressed against silk sheets as your now-husband hovers over you.
(Name) Argece.
What a horrible name and cruel faith.
Inky black hair that falls into his carmine red eyes that held indifference. His wedding-tux was still on, even the outer jacket with the silly lone rose in his pocket. Oh, what a shame – to be married to such a handsome man only for him to be obsessed with his sister and emotionally unavailable.
God despises you.
“Close your eyes if you’re uncomfortable.”
He unbuttons his outer jacket, sliding it off his shoulders and tosses it to the side. You should close your eyes, you think, because his face was nothing but stone. Not even a condescending grin. He doesn’t comfort you, either – at least not in the typical sense.
“Keep still,” his gloved hands grab your thighs and you let him open them, creating space for him to get closer. You want to push him away and run. But what good would that do? Why couldn’t the man just slice something and claim that the blood on the sheets was from your first night?
“I’m scared.” You speak without thinking, becoming stiff as his hands traveled from your outer thigh to the inner, creeping underneath your nightgown. His gloves feel cold and uncomfortable, touch borderline rough. “I – I need a moment. Please?”
He tilts his head, giving it thought. After a moment he removes himself, but annoyance radiates off him. Your heart beats faster as the second’s pass. You remain on your back. The ceiling is painted white, no decorations and the room was bare saved for a dresser, closet, mirror and a random chair by the window.
You will be sleeping in here, from now on.
“Can’t do it? Then don’t.” he’s annoyed, surely, otherwise he wouldn’t look at you like you were an insect. What a wonderful way to start the newlywed life. But it’s not that easy to walk away, and while it sounds like he’s giving you a say-so, he isn’t; if you don’t consummate your marriage tonight, then…
“… I’m sorry. It’s my first time and I heard there would be pain.” You shouldn’t have to explain yourself. But Dion wasn’t exactly known for his… compassion. Or basic human emotions, either.
If this was someone else, would you be able to do it? Where did everything go wrong? This didn’t happen in the novel; Dion didn’t get married. There wasn’t a grand wedding with the Five Ruling Families in attendance. Nor was there a steamy scene with this man throughout the novel, not even in the side stories.
How did you end up here?
“Then relax.” If you weren’t scared of losing your life you would have run him over. It affects everything! Then again, it wouldn’t matter to him – this is a duty. Not something he wanted, you’re sure, and even if he did it would only have his best interests in mind.
“… I’m ready.” You don’t answer him, because it would only lead to a one-sided argument. Even a wall listens better. Despite your wishes, Dion does the same as last – settles in-between your legs, and this time, you close your eyes.
“Good. Try to relax or it won’t fit.” Your cheeks burn at that, mind already picturing how it would look. Many men say things like that, even in your old world. It’s just a thing they said, like with many things. It doesn’t really mean anything, because if it did then…
His gloves are still on, cold and grip tight on your thighs. You were hoping he would be gentler. But as his hands travel up and up until they’re pulling at the edges of your underwear to slide them down, you realize he won’t.
There’s no slickness down there, your underwear dry and vagina even drier. You peek through your eyelashes, watching as he inspects the article of clothing. He tosses it a few seconds later.
“I’m only going to ask once – would you rather keep your clothes on or off?” It seems that with every second reality just hits harder and harder. This was going to happen. Nothing could stop it. And if hypothetically, if he were to stop this, what then?
Even if he sliced an arm to fake the night, what about later? A baby, Lant wants Dion to have a child. No. You couldn’t do that to a child, especially yours.
“On. Please.” You expect him to just shove in a finger or two, watching as your body jerks in pain. Instead, he lifts your hips until your bottom was off the bed and flips the flimsy skirt up. And then there’s a glob of something wet and gooey, legs twitching as it lands on your bare cunt.
“D – did you just… spit?” steading yourself on your arms, you look on in disbelief as your husband just spat on your pussy. A string of saliva hangs from his tongue.
Instead of answering you, much less look at you, his thumb comes into play and spreads his saliva over the surface of your cunt. It’s only when his thumb swipes over your clit do you let out a shaky breath.
Maybe he was feeling generous or maybe he was curious. Dion decided to rub the twitching nub over and over until your legs twitch and cunt clenched around nothing. The glove made it uncomfortable, but even so, you just tried your best to focus on the pleasure. You weren’t sure if he would give you pleasure like this again.
“You’re enjoying this,” he retreats his hand leaving your twitching and needy clit lonely.
A pathetic whimper escapes as you watch your husband take his glove off with his teeth. This man is everything you fear and more, a character that you should have never met. Yet the sight of him lowering his head to lick a long stride against your slit has your legs shaking.
His tongue is warm and slimy, causing your hands to clench the sheets as your head falls back. Another lick and another until it’s flicking your clit back and forth, sending warmth throughout your body. However, despite the pleasure he’s giving you, his grip is still tight, almost painful on your hips.
Your heartbeat doesn’t slow down as he continues. Your fear barely dies down in your chest, even as the tip of his tongue teases your entrance. You shut your eyes tight, a breathless gasp leaving your lips as he thrusts his tongue into your cunt.
“It feels – “a pause as you catch your breath, “weird, it feels really weird and – “
Dion repeats the action until you’re a trembling mess, sensitive from your mental state and the current oral sex you’re receiving. It’s hard to focus on either one, your mind constantly reminding you that you’re in a novel, about to fuck a man who’s jaded and possibly has a thing for his sister –
“Ah… wait, that’s a lot…” he decides to go further, bringing his thumb back and rubs loose circles into your clit. He’s still eating you out, but not like a man starved like you read in erotic novels.
Even so, your husband keeps at it. If it was a good or bad thing was up for debate – on one hand, while it does feel good, everything is moving too fast, your pleas for slowing down falling on deaf ears. It really is a lot, tongue fucking you while those loose circles on your clit become tighter, rougher. Should you just lay back and take what he gives?
Your mother would probably say so. Your sister would just pat your head and smile like it was expected. Normal. Take what he gives, especially if it benefits you in any way.
“…?” your eyes open at his tongue leaving your cunt with a saliva trail, his eyes glued to your twitching sex. His thumb also stops rubbing circles, instead going back to grip your hip as your back starts to become sore. Your ass is still off the bed and if he keeps you hosted up like this, then you really will snap in half.
But then he locks eyes with you.
“I thought you were scared.” Dion doesn’t let you respond, either because he doesn’t care or because it would ruin the ‘mood.’ He latches his mouth to your poor, abused nub instead. And sucks.
“H-hey!” one hand supporting you while the other grabs at his hair, you didn’t expect him to throw your legs over his shoulders. “That’s enough, really, no need to – ugh…” his mouth was warm and soft, but it sends your nerves on fire.
Good. Bad. Good. Bad.
Good, bad, does it matter anymore?
He sucks harder and your fingers tug harshly at his hair. You kick your legs but are unable to tell if it’s from pleasure or the flight or fight response he’s causing you. He doesn’t budge, doesn’t bat an eye, making it his life mission to suck you dry.
“Ah – wait, Dion – “
It’s at your whine of his name does he finally, finally stop, a ‘pop’ when he detaches his mouth from your sensitive and bullied clit. Your husband decides to lick one last long stripe from your entrance to your clit, all the while making eye contact with you. Your chest heaves as your mind settles, arousal overthrowing your thoughts.
“What is it?” Monotone, his voice is monotone and he’s not even out of breath. Your mother lied, there’s not even a hint of pink across those cheeks. It’s fine, though – no, it’s not, it’s baffling how steady he seems when your back is about to break, and you can’t even breathe.
Your eyes travel from his to his hair, where your hand is still grasping the strands. Mind still catching up to your body, you let go and draw your hand back, covering your eyes with it. Your entire body is shaky and legs sore. You’re not used to this position.
“It – it’s enough.” Your husband lets you pull your legs back, feet pressing against his broad shoulders as you bring them back down. The relief is almost immediate, a pleasurable and relief-filled sigh leaving your chest. You allow yourself to rest for a bit, your sensitive cunt and sore legs screaming for it.
“… O – okay, I think, I think that’s fine. Excuse me…” gently, you pull one leg up until your foot is flat against the bed. With a shudder, you trace your entrance timidly with two fingers, getting used to the touch. You’re not sure of how big he was, but you’ll use three fingers just in case.
You gape like a fish when his hand reaches out, grabbing yours roughly. You didn’t even notice the dip in the mattress as Dion got closer on his knees, face inches away from yours. Oh God, now what –
“What are you doing?” clearly annoyed, Dion doesn’t let you look away – not that you were going to – free hand grabbing your face, pointer finger and thumb on each cheek. It’s barely loose enough to leave no bruises. It hurts regardless.
“I – I was… prepping…” part of you wants to pretend that this man doesn’t know how to comfortably prepare you for pentation with his… but you know better. Because an inexperienced man wouldn’t know how to do things with his tongue like that, or where the clit was because –
“Are you still scared?” The hand that was holding yours releases it, opting to sneak its way to your cunt. His fingers were larger than yours, nimbler as they stroke your labia minora. Are the shivers washing over you from nervousness or arousal?
“… I’m scared of the pain.” By instinct, you knew he meant more than scared of sex – if you feared him. Still.
It doesn’t need to be said.
“Scared of the pain?” His eyes glow in the moonlight, bright red with absolutely no emotion. “Why?” he doesn’t break eye contact as his fingers inch closer to your entrance, stroking the opening, making your legs jolt. What a horrible man.
You remind yourself that this man only felt fear as a child – and even then, it probably wasn’t for very long. Nothing lasts for long, in this estate.
“Because I hate it.” You don’t break eye contact either, breathing in when one finger slowly sinks in, your walls now stretching uncomfortably. It’s not as painful as you thought it would be, your wetness mixed with his saliva making it easier. Your nails are about to rip holes in the silk sheets.
Like a curious animal, he tilts his head, curling his finger. It doesn’t feel good, it hurts, but you endure it even when you wince. Dion decides it would be a good idea to spread your legs a bit further, and like a bug, crawls between them even more. You hiccup when he adds a second finger.
They’re bigger than yours, they reach deeper. In your old world, did it feel like this too? You can’t remember.
“It’s going to hurt worse if you don’t let me finish this. Relax your legs before it hurts worse.” Pressure builds in your eyes, but you fight it off. “Save your tears for when it matters.”
You’re tired of him already.
He doesn’t move them, at first. It’s almost like he expects this, because as you adjust to something foreign inside you, he starts to rub at your clit, again. Softly this time, touch firm enough to feel but not hard enough to hurt. Or maybe you’re lying to yourself because you’re wincing, still.
When he starts to thrust them in and out, you force yourself to look at the ceiling, scared to see the expression on his face. You also don’t want to watch the show, scared it’ll already be bloody. Just a bit.
“It’s tight.” He states it like it’s the morning news. “And wet.” Your cheeks burn with both shame and embarrassment, shutting your eyes.
“… ugh…,” groaning, your hand reaches out to grab his wrist. “It hurts, a lot.” You sit up, back against the headboard, avoiding your husband’s gaze. Unfortunately, by doing this, your eyes land on your messy hole, light blood on his fingers as he pulls them out only to thrust them in again.
“It’s normal. The more you resist the worse it gets.” You give up, letting him do as he pleases, shutting your mouth.
The fingering still hurts as the minutes go by, but little by little the pressure eases down and when he arches his hand, he hits something soft and spongy. He’s rewarded the sight of your head banging against the headboard once, shoulder tense as you bite your bottom lip.
If only you could see that look in his eyes.
“Here?” He repeats the action, faster this time. You only nod your head, lips ajar, tongue swiping over them. Your hips have a mind of their own, raising as the heel of his hand rapidly smacks against your clit with his thrust of his hand.
You’re half there mentally and halfway in heaven, momently forgetting just who was here with you, who room this belonged to, and your entire situation to begin with. “Oh - wait, it’s a lot but – “
A third finger is added, and it starts to sting again. Another wince, another groan, but your arousal helps to keep the pain to minimum. All three fingers curl to hit that special spot that makes you see blacked out stars and pussy clench. All the while light blood coats his fingers, a sight he’s already used to due to his lifestyle.
It’s only when he pulls his hand away completely do you return from the skies, a small layer of sweet coating your forehead. Your hands are shaky as you look at him, only to be drowned back into reality when you’re met with those red, indifferent eyes that glow brighter than the moon.
“If you’re ready, lay on your back and spread your legs.” He undoes his pants while saying this, scooting back to give you some room.
With a heavy heart, you do so, laying on your back and spread your legs. You were fine just moments ago, so why is your heart leaping out of your throat rather than staying in your chest? Maybe it was because of the pleasure, or…
You’re scared, again.
You don’t look when something fat and heavy plops onto your pelvis. You don’t look when he brings you closer by your thighs. You don’t look as he rubs the head of his cock against your slick folds, catching on your clit.
“Relax or it won’t fit,” he reminds you before pushing the fat head in. At first, it’s a sting no bigger than an ant bite. But then another inch goes in, and you feel like a sword is cutting you straight up open, your legs tensing and hands grasping his forearms in a futile attempt to stop him.
Your nails dig into his sleeves, and you can feel the skin underneath. The tears build up as your face becomes hot, taking in deep breaths like it would soften the intruding body part.
“Big – it’s too big, it’s not going to fit – “
“… You look cute when you cry.” It’s sinister, teasing and everything that makes your stomach drop. His thumb wipes away your tears that’s already staining your skin. But he stops regardless, if only to shut you up if nothing else.
You think a few minutes pass but it’s hard to tell when he’s still inside, pulsing and you could feel every vein on his cock. It’s thick, it’s big and you don’t think you’re equipped to handle it, handle him. He’s everything that ruins your sense of self, that makes your dreams shatter and fear rot you from the inside out.
But he’s your husband…
But he’s your husband.
“Relax,” he inches in deeper, slower this time, but not letting you get a word in. Your nails dig deeper, and if it weren’t for his shirt, you would have drawn blood. Another inch, another gasp that leaves you breathless, grasping for anything that could keep you grounded. The only thing you could grab was him, however.
“Dion, Dion, you’re going to break me, I can’t – I can’t – “
“You can. You have to.” Was his voice raspy, just now? If so, it worries you, because you just remembered one very important detail – Dion Argece was, if nothing else, a sadist. Be it from his childhood trauma, or if he would be like this regardless of, he loved seeing Roxana cried.
It never occurred to you that he would love seeing you cry, too.
How deep was he? It feels you’re being speared open, his cock bullying its way into your virgin hole. You weren’t a virgin in your last life, but it didn’t hurt like this. It had hurt, felt like you were being ripped, but not enough to make you cry and breathless.
You think you can feel blood trickling down your ass crack. “Please tell me you’re almost there, please…” sniffling, you look up at your husband, the man taking your virginity in the name of ‘marriage.’ A mirror shatters in the back of your mind.
There was a flush across his cheeks. Pupils blown wide and a small grin on his lips. He was enjoying this. Your pain, your tears and perhaps even your fear – he was enjoying this.
It would have been better if he didn’t feel anything, you think. Just a stone statue that was performing its task. But even monsters had emotions, you guess.
“I’m not. Just endure it for a bit longer – I’ll stop once I’m at the hilt.” Was he a liar in the novel? You think he was, otherwise, the overtaking of the Argece family wouldn’t have happened. Lant wouldn't be dead. But things haven’t followed the novel to a T – this was proof enough.
“You’ll stop? Like, completely? You – you took my virginity, so that should be enough. Right?”
You hate it when he keeps wiping your tears away. Or when he slides in even more, your blood coating his stupid dick. You hate it when he brings one hand to toy with your clit, granting you pleasure that was just overthrown by the smothering pain traveling up to your belly.
He doesn’t answer. And that was enough for you to rake your nails down the back of neck, drawing blood in return. He’s making you bleed, so it was only fair if you could too, right?
Deeper and deeper until his balls rest against your bottom and pelvic meeting yours. Surprisingly, your husband keeps his word, letting you adjust to the new feeling. It feels heavy. It feels like a heartbeat, like a rod that was stuck. It felt awful.
How long did it take you to get used to it, in the past? No longer than fifteen minutes max, right? No, shorter than that. Then again, it didn’t hurt this much, but that partner was more loving, more caring, gentler –
“Who are you thinking about?”
The question breaks you out of your daze. You blink, once, before you question him back. He only glares in response.
Panic fills you when he pulls out, pain still there, blood still trickling down. “Wait, you’re – “
“I’m what?” he pulls out until only the head remained inside. You try your best to ignore the bruising grip he has on your hips. You’re going to be sore tomorrow. If you survive this, anyway.
God, if you’re listening, please let this night end peacefully.
“B-big. It’s going to hurt, please don’t…” dragging your hands down from his neck to his chest, your fingers dig into his shirt.
“Hm. A shame, really; you still must give birth, eventually. It’s better to get used to it now than later.” Your mind doesn’t catch up with your body, legs tensing when he slides oh so carefully back in, like he didn’t just push your worries aside like nothing. “Relax.”
“Dion,” hiccupping, you brace yourself, head nuzzling into his chest as your hold on his shirt tightens. When he pulls back out, you could feel every detail, every vein trail, his grith truly opening you. He graces you a mercy, going at a languid pace, minimizing the pain. His thumb never stopped rubbing your clit, either.
It goes like that, for a good while. Slow and steady, your hushed sobs dying on your lips, your husband careful with his thrusts, but not his grip. It was almost comforting, in a way. But you were still scared of him, and of what will happen after this.
“… I have a proposition.”
His hips stop and your ears perk up.
“You want me to stop, correct?” Dion pulls back until he’s on his heels, his cock dragging along your walls. You wince before breathing out. He doesn’t even try to hide the sadistic look in his eye as he sees the dried tear streaks on your cheeks. He almost grins in glee.
“Y-yes…” You don’t let go of his shirt. “Why…?” there’s hope inside you, but dread starts to rot it away.
“Jerk it.”
“…what?”
He was different from the novel. Extremely so, because you doubt that Dion would suggest a thing, much less give you a choice in the matter. That Dion would have either ignored you and this night or take you as is, no mercy, no humanity granted if this took place at the beginning at the novel.
When he doesn’t repeat himself, you pull yourself up until you’re resting on your knees. The sight of blood both on his cock and the sheets make you gag and thankfully, he doesn’t comment on it. Hesitantly, you take him into your hands, fingers barely able to close around it.
It throbs in your hand.
Your blood is coating your hands now, too.
Only silence is between you, your hands working him. Your thumb swipes over his head, circling it before stroking his dick up and down. Your other hand plays with his balls, massaging them. You’re not sure how long it would take him to finish.
Your core throbs in pain, and you become worried over the thought of peeing. It would probably hurt.
You want to sleep.
Without giving it much thought, just like your husband, you spit on it, a glob of saliva falling onto the staff. It throbs harder. And when you look at him, tired eyes and drool still dripping down from your tongue, still jerking him off –
“…Ngh…”
It’s almost cute, the way sperm spurts out and makes a mess on your hands. The very small and fleeting look of embarrassment on his feature is almost enough to comfort you. But when there’s barely a sheen of sweat adoring his forehead, unlike you was still recovering, you’re reminded that your husband was different from you.
There are no kisses, no sweet nothings shared between lovers. No stroking your hair or comforting your trembling form as your legs shake. Or even an offer to warm a bath for you, the warm water soothing your body. There’s none of that.
Not even a smile.
“Welcome to the Argece family, wife.”
Instead, all that awaits you is a restless sleep on a bloodied mattress with a husband who left after cleaning himself up.
Which God despises you so much and why?
#dion agriche#dion argece#Dion x reader#yandere dion agriche#deon argece#dion agriche smut#the way to protect the female lead's older brother#twtptflob#deon agrece x reader
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