#we talked about him going home 'not feeling well' and then he just. never never never came back | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

glossdebut · 2 days ago

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everything i want (a take a bite drabble collection) | MYG

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader (TAB!couple)

✧ GENRE: established relationship, fluff, smut, humor

✧ REQUEST: @joonary: hello my dear friend i am here to request something with dilf yoongi 😁 no other specifications go crazy and @beomcoups: I wanted to send you a request with Yoongi and you spend the day at the beach with this prompt "isn't that view beautiful"? It can be sfw or nsfw.

✧ SUMMARY: The best part of being with Yoongi, from the very beginning, was that nothing had to change for either of you. You could be married to Yoongi and to your job at the same time, build your career from the ground up and never sacrifice a thing. But this? Having a baby? It’s all going to be sacrifice. It won’t be just you and Yoongi anymore, living in your precious little workaholic love bubble. Everything is going to change.

✧ TAGS: pregnancy, different stages of pregnancy (conception, morning sickness, early labor, etc.), the smut is crazy but this is mostly soft, TAB!couple are in complete domestic bliss i fear, and they’re married!, yoongi and MC being each other’s voices of reason, TAB!yoongi’s murderous inner monologues make a comeback, rina cameo, baby penny <3, beach episode moment (warnings under the cut because… um…)

✧ WORDCOUNT: 7.6k words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: blame MJ for this. and my m’lady anon for saying i’m always ovulating. *taps mic* min yoongi my womb is empty please call me.

P.S. thank you to tanni @yooniivrse for beta reading <3

P.P.S. i feel like this can maybe stand alone??? but parts of it might be confusing if you haven’t read take a bite in its entirety, so… do that, if you want!

✧ WARNINGS: vaginal fingering, oral (f. receiving), dirty talk, spanking, nipple play, hand/finger kink, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, yoongi calls reader a sl*t in bed but it is all extremely consensual, rough sex, unprotected sex (duh) (but wrap it before you tap it), creampie (double duh)

one —

Yoongi’s being a real good sport about it, but you know you’re being annoying.

Ever since both of you got home, you just… There are things that need to be done, okay? Like unloading the dishwasher. You can’t just leave that for tomorrow, that would be insane. And since you’re unloading the dishwasher, you might as well organize the kitchen cabinets. They’re a mess, and you’re putting away dishes anyway. Why postpone the inevitable?

And Pepper! Sweet, sweet Pepper. She needs to be fed, obviously. You’re not going to neglect your cat, are you? Your cat who has nobody else in the whole world aside from you and Yoongi? The two of you are responsible for a whole life—feline life! Feline life.

This doesn’t have anything to do with what Yoongi’s eomma said tonight. Absolutely not.

You are a grown woman. An award winning music journalist with a kickass career and a super hot, famous, rich man by your side. You’re not going to let Yoongi’s eomma get under your skin. You’re just fidgety. Who wouldn’t be after dinner with the in-laws?

You pause mid-kibble pour, staring down at the sparkly, significant thing wrapped around your finger. It’s been over a year, and sometimes you still can’t believe it’s true. Married. Husband and wife. Mr. and Mrs. Min.

The thought makes you relax, just a little. Yoongi is your better half in every sense. Your soulmate. And more than that, he has your back. There’s no reason why you can’t just tell him what you’ve been thinking. What you’ve been thinking for a long time now, really.

As if he can read your mind, your husband sidles up behind you, wrapping his arms around you as you finish feeding the cat.

“You wanna talk about it?” he murmurs against the back of your neck.

“No,” you huff, turning in his hold to loop your arms around his neck. “But I think we have to.”

Yoongi hums, dipping down to kiss you softly. “Okay. Let’s talk about it, then.”

With a sigh, you peel yourself away from your husband and head to the couch. This feels like a sitting down conversation. Yoongi sits next to you, pulling you into his body, your head on his shoulder.

“Y/N… You know it’s not a dealbreaker, right? Kids. You know that.”

Tilting your head up, you study his features.

Yoongi is usually so unshakeable. It’s rare that you see him truly nervous, not when it comes to you. Your relationship is so solid, you can’t remember the last time you saw him like this.

“Yoongi, of course I know that,” you assure him immediately, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek.

The two of you had the marriage-and-kids conversation not long after you moved in together. It was the logical thing to do, with how serious things were getting. The marriage part of the conversation was easy. Yeah, duh, you wanted to marry Min Yoongi one day. No shit.

The kids part, though? That was a little harder. At least for you.

You didn’t know if you wanted kids. The cons far outweighed the pros, especially where your work schedules were concerned, and at the time, you weren’t sure if that would ever change.

Yoongi was amenable about it, though. He wanted what you wanted. Kids, no kids, whatever. You’re pretty sure those were his exact words.

“I’m not freaking out because I think you’re gonna, like, leave me or something.”

“Okay,” he says, visibly relaxing. “Then why are you freaking out?”

“I don’t know!” you groan, pressing your face into his shoulder. “I don’t know.”

“Baby,” he huffs. “This is our decision, not my eomma’s. Nothing’s changed.”

That’s the thing. That’s why you’re so restless.

“Maybe…” Fuck, you can’t sit still for this. So you stand, hoping you can force the words out if you’re pacing. “Maybe things have changed.”

It would be funny, the way Yoongi’s mouth pops open in a little ‘o’, if you didn’t feel like you were about to throw up.

“I just—” You rub your hands over your face, exasperated. And then you’re stopping in front of him, jabbing your finger at his chest. “You’re really annoying, you know. Paternal. Every time I have to watch you play with your brother’s kid I really want to smack you.”

“Paternal?” Yoongi snorts. His hands catch yours, interlaced fingers pulling you to stand between his open legs.

“Paternal,” you sniff. “Stop looking at me like that.”

Of course, that only makes it worse. He looks so fond, even though you feel more and more like you’re dying as you speak. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

“You mean how long has this been plaguing me?” you grumble, earning a laugh from him.

“Yeah, sure,” Yoongi says as he looks up at you expectantly.

You look down at your joined hands, swinging them back and forth so the warm lamplight catches on your rings. “Since we got married, I guess.”

Yoongi squeezes your hands to catch your attention, quirking an eyebrow at you when you glance up. “That long?” he asks, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure,” you mumble as your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

“You’re telling me now,” he points out. He sounds a little unsteady, like he’s feeling just as jittery as you are, now that it’s all out in the open.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I am.”

“You want a baby?”

You nod, bottom lip catching between your teeth. “I want a baby.”

Before you have a chance to react, Yoongi sits up, pulling you into a kiss with a hand on the back of your neck. Almost as soon as you melt into it, clambering into his lap as your lips slot with his, he’s pulling away.

“With me, right?” he teases, squawking indignantly when you pinch his sides in retaliation. “Yah, I’m just making sure!”

“Yes with you, asshole!”

two —

You feel a little stupid.

Maybe it’s because you don’t know how to act now. Nobody told you that planning to have a baby would suddenly put so much pressure on sex, but now here you are, standing in the kitchen in a too-tight dress while you try not to burn dinner.

You never cook. That’s Yoongi’s job. But you don’t know what else to do with all this restless energy, don’t know how else to initiate the ‘okay, I’m ready, knock me up’ conversation.

You’ve talked about the important things. You’ve dealt with the birth control issue. You’re taking, like, vitamins and shit now. All that’s left is to… actually try, right?

Except you’re nervous as hell, have been since you woke up to the notification from your cycle tracker informing you that you’re in your fucking ‘fertile window’ (ew!), and you’re suddenly acting like someone you don’t even recognize. Christ, you wonder if Yoongi has been feeling like this, too.

Speaking of Yoongi… He isn’t home yet, and for a moment, you think it’s not too late to just get rid of all of the evidence. Do away with the self-imposed theatrics, order some takeout, and act like it’s just another night. It’s not like Yoongi would mind.

But you’ve already committed to these stupid fucking steaks. And candles. There are candles.

It is too late, anyway. Almost as soon as the thought begins to form in your brain, you hear the sound of keys jangling and a lock turning, and then your future sperm donor himself is slipping his shoes off at the front door.

At least, he’s trying to. He’s got one socked foot out, frozen in his tracks as he takes in the scene before him.

“Did I forget an anniversary?”

You scoff, eyes rolling despite the nausea building inside you. “As if you’ve ever forgotten anything in your life.”

“Point made.” He kicks his shoes off the rest of the way, nodding his head in the direction of the candles on the table. “Wanna tell me what this is for, then?”

You shrug, poking at the steak sizzling in front of you with a pair of tongs. “I wanted to make you dinner.”

“You don’t do that,” he says, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Well, I felt like it tonight,” you huff in exasperation.

“Okay,” he says, rounding the counter. His eyes rake over your form shamelessly, now that he can see all of you. “And the dress?”

“A girl can’t dress up every now and then?”

“Hey,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “Not complaining, believe me. Just curious.”

You know you’re being a little bit testy. Evasive. But it’s not your fault. Is there a good way to say ‘I did all of this because I want you to cum inside me tonight’? If there is, you haven’t found it.

Instead, you settle on, “I just felt like it.”

Yoongi hums, sliding behind you so he can wrap his arms around your middle. “Just felt like it, huh?” he mumbles. You can feel his lips on the back of your neck, and it’s dizzying how quickly your body reacts to his proximity. “No ulterior motives?”

“Nope,” you say. It sounds like bullshit, even to you. But how are you supposed to spin a convincing lie when your husband’s hands are on you? Hands that slide from hips to waist to tits as his mouth grows insistent at your nape, making you shiver.

“Shame,” he murmurs, nosing at the curve of your neck until his lips reach the shell of your ear. “I was hoping you wanted me to fuck a baby into you.”

“Fuck,” you breathe. Your legs are already growing wobbly beneath you, and he hasn’t even touched you. It’s pathetic, the way anxiety gives way to anticipation so easily.

Smoothly, Yoongi reaches in front of you to turn off the stove. It’s probably best that you skip dinner, anyway. Those steaks were going to be shit and you both know it.

You’re guided away from the stove, spun around so the small of your back is pressed against the kitchen counter. The room seems to shrink around you with the way you’re pinned under Yoongi’s gaze.

He kisses you, slow and deliberate, your legs growing even weaker at the way his lips slide against yours. You get lost in it for a moment, reveling in the way his body molds to yours as his tongue teases at the seam of your lips. But then he pulls away.

“Why don’t you tell me the truth?” His hands slide down your body to knead your ass roughly, causing the hem of your dress to ride up. “What does my girl want, hm?”

“Yoongi,” you whine, desperate as you reach down to palm him through his jeans.

“Nuh-uh,” he chastises, voice laced with amusement. He grabs hold of your wrist, bringing it up to his lips to press a gentle kiss against your skin. “You’ve just gotta ask, beautiful. You know I’ll give you what you need. I’m not a mind reader, though.”

Annoying. Also patently untrue, but whatever. The point of all of this—the dress, the candles, the dinner attempt—was that you wouldn’t have to say it. But of course, Yoongi never makes things easy for you.

“You already know, though,” you huff. “Don’t be mean.”

Yoongi huffs a laugh, fingers skating teasingly along the hem of your dress. “Okay, baby,” he concedes. “I’ll be nice.”

And then his hand slips under your dress, only to find that you’ve foregone panties for the night. “Shit,” he groans. “You’re gonna kill me.”

The anticipation of the day has left you dripping for him, the pads of his fingers sliding along your cunt with ease. You gasp when he thrusts two digits into you, moan when they curl against your front wall, the sensation sending you climbing up the counter.

“This?” he murmurs against your lips. “This is what you want?”

Suddenly, all of your anxiety from the day washes away. It’s stupid, you realize, to be so scared of just telling him everything you want. He loves when you tell him what you want, loves to be the one to fulfil every single one of your wishes. And right now, while your husband’s fingers fuck into your pussy in the middle of your kitchen, all you want is—

“Fuck me. Please, Yoongi. Need you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?” he growls. “Why?”

“B-because,” you whimper, cheeks flushing as you finally say the words. “W-wanna make a baby with you, wan’ you to give me a baby.”

“Fuck,” Yoongi hisses, nipping at your jaw. The pace of his fingers is slow and steady as heat crawls up your spine. You cry out when his thumb begins to circle your clit, your eyes rolling back in your head at the sensation. “There’s my good girl. I’ll give you what you need, baby, I promise. Just cum for me first.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You’re so fucking wound up, and his fingers feel so good pumping in and out of you, it was only a matter of time before you unraveled for him.

Wetness gushes around Yoongi’s fingers, the filthy squelch of his ministrations filling your ears. You don’t have it in you to be embarrassed by it. Not when you’re this close. Before you know it, your orgasm is washing over you, leaving you clenching helplessly around his fingers as he mumbles praise into your neck.

“Shit,” you breathe.

Gently, Yoongi withdraws his fingers. “Feel good?”

With a giggle, you nod, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Mm. We really need to stop using our kitchen for non-kitchen related activities, though.”

“Nah,” he chuckles. “Where’s the fun in that?”

As you catch your breath, you start to feel antsy due to the silence that settles between you two. Everything’s out in the open now, isn’t it?

As if he can sense the shift in your energy, Yoongi presses his forehead against yours, rubbing his hand down your back. “You’re in your head again.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, pouting.

“Don’t apologize,” Yoongi murmurs softly. “Just tell me what's wrong.”

You take a shaky breath, closing your eyes for a moment. Better out than in, you suppose.

“I just… There’s all this pressure now that we’re trying to have a baby. I guess I’m just worried we’re not… doing this right.”

“Right?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Like… It’s a big deal, isn’t it?” you say, glancing at your forgotten steaks further down on the counter. “Shouldn’t we treat it like one?”

Yoongi pulls back, eyes widening in understanding. “So… The dress and the dinner.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, and you can’t help but squirm as he studies you for a moment. You desperately wish you knew what he was thinking, but you know Yoongi. He chooses his words carefully, always.

“Do you want to do things differently?” he finally asks.

Huh.

“What?”

Yoongi grins, chuckling as he reaches to intertwine your fingers with his. “Y/N,” he starts, squeezing your hand. “You are the woman of my dreams. It doesn’t matter when or where or how it happens, our baby is going to be made with love no matter what.”

Your heart pangs at that, lips twisting in a contemplative frown as you consider his words. Damn him for making so much fucking sense all the time.

“If you want to do the dinner and the candles and the rose petals and everything else, we can do that,” Yoongi says, pausing to kiss your nose. “I’ll take my time, fuck you nice and slow. Anything you want.

“But I don’t want you to feel nervous about this,” he murmurs, pressing more kisses into your skin until he’s nosing the underside of your jaw. “I could bend you over this counter and fuck you right here, and we’d still be doing things right, as long as it feels right to you.”

Yoongi’s right. You’ve been building up all of these unrealistic expectations for how this night should go, and for no reason. The anxiety that had built a home in the pit of your stomach gives way to something hotter, your eyes fluttering shut as his breath ghosts over your skin.

“I’m sorry,” you sigh, tangling your fingers in his hair as he mouths at your neck. “I don’t want anything to change.”

“Quit apologizing,” he chastises with a bite to your skin that makes you gasp. “You know what you want. Always so good at telling me, too. So tell me.”

Here goes nothing.

“I want you to take off my dress,” you breathe. It feels like a good place to start.

Tongue darting out to lick his lips, Yoongi’s gaze roves over your body. “Yeah,” he agrees. “Bedroom? Or here?”

“Bedroom,” you say, gently pushing him out of your space so you can hop off the counter.

You barely get a chance to steady yourself before Yoongi’s grabbing hold of your hand. You can’t help but giggle at his eagerness as he drags you out of the kitchen, pausing only to blow out the candles you’d lit earlier.

Once he gets you to the bedroom, Yoongi spins you around so you’re facing away from him. You feel the evidence of his arousal against the curve of your ass as he slowly unzips your dress.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmurs, his breath warm against the back of your neck as your dress drops and pools at your feet. His hands roam over your body, squeezing and caressing everywhere he can reach. “How did I get so lucky, hm?”

Turning in his hold, you loop your arms around his neck with a cheeky smile, your naked form pressed against his clothed one. “Through a mutual disdain for square dancing, if I recall correctly.”

Yoongi laughs at that, gummy smile in full force even as he shamelessly fondles your breasts. “You don’t recall correctly,” he teases. “I had to put in a lot of work after that to actually get you, remember?”

How far you’ve both come since then. No more tortured longing. No more misunderstandings. No more fear of taking the leap. All that remains between you now is love. Plain and simple.

“You had me from day one,” you insist, fondness swelling in your chest. “I didn’t stand a chance.”

It’s so gratifying, witnessing the way you can still fluster your husband after all this time. With pink cheeks, Yoongi ducks his head, attempting to hide a shy smile. “Aw,” he coos, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Do you love me or something?”

Snorting, you bite back a grin. “I do. Very much. And you love me.”

Yoongi hums in agreement. An errant squeeze to your ass, as casual as it may be, reminds you of where you are. Heat floods you all over again, a delicious shiver wracking your body at the reminder of what you’re about to do. As head over heels as you may be for Yoongi, you’d really like to get his cock inside you sometime this year.

You catch his gaze, raising a challenging eyebrow at him.

“But you can fuck me like you don’t,” you offer.

In an instant, the softness in Yoongi’s eyes shifts into something else entirely. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his grip on your ass tightening.

“You’re sure?” he asks, voice so low and gravelly that your cunt clenches in response. You know him well enough to know that he’s giving you one last out, that his control is likely hanging by a thread.

But fuck, you want it. Want to be fucked within an inch of your life, because who knows the next opportunity you’ll have to get it like that once you’re with child?

“I can handle it.”

Yoongi scans your features for a moment, taking in your flushed cheeks and parted lips. The way your body responds to him without a second thought, willing to take anything he wants to give you. If he’s looking for uncertainty, he isn’t going to find any. Not anymore.

He must be satisfied with what he finds, because before you can react, you’re suddenly on your back, gasping as you’re enveloped in memory foam.

“Spread your legs, baby,” Yoongi says, his hands on your knees roughly guiding your legs to part nice and wide so he can settle between them. “Show me that pretty cunt of yours.”

“Yoongi,” you whimper, fingers instinctively threading into his hair. It’s getting so long lately, so pullable. You might kill him if he tries to cut it anytime soon. “Want your cock, you don’t have to—“

Your pleas are effectively halted when Yoongi spreads your folds with his thumbs, looking up at you with eyes that are all pupil. “You’re this wet for me, and you think I’m not gonna get my mouth on you?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, surging forward to lick a broad stripe over your pussy. You cry out, back arching and hips kicking off the bed when his tongue flicks against your oversensitive clit.

“Fucking dripping,” Yoongi groans appreciatively. “Holy shit, Y/N.”

The whine that escapes you is pathetic, embarrassment and arousal warring inside you as you rock your hips forward. Luckily, Yoongi gets the hint, dipping down again to swirl his tongue over you.

It’s filthy and loud, the way he sucks and slurps at your pussy like he’s starving for it, can’t get enough. It doesn’t take long before your second orgasm is barreling towards you, thighs trembling on either side of his head as you squirm under him.

“Yoongi, fuck,” you mewl as he laves over your aching cunt, tugging hard at the strands of dark hair caught between your fingers to keep him from pulling away. “I’m gonna cum, like, any second.”

Yoongi hums, tongue lashing at your clit at a pace that almost drives you up the bed. Everything feels so fucking good, so overwhelming, that you can’t hold back any longer.

You cum hard, a litany of curses and moans falling from your lips as Yoongi works you through it, only letting up when your hands push weakly at his head.

“You’re so worked up, baby,” he teases, although the way he palms himself through his jeans as he climbs over you tells you he’s just as turned on as you are. “You want my cum that bad?”

Your pussy flutters at his words, silently begging to be filled. Fuck. It doesn’t surprise you that your husband knows how to read your body this well, knows exactly how to push all of your buttons, but it still drives you crazy all the same.

“You’re worked up, too,” you huff as you snake your hand under his, feeling the way his erection strains against his jeans. He’s so fucking hard.

“Of course I am,” he agrees, chuckling at your impatience. He pulls his shirt over his head as he speaks, moving to deal with his jeans next. “I’ve got my girl cumming so easily for me, begging for my cock. Why wouldn’t I be worked up?”

“Then fucking do something about it,” you whine, mouth watering when his cock springs free in front of you. You need him inside you yesterday.

In a flash, you’re flipped over roughly so you’re flat on your stomach.

“So fucking impatient,” Yoongi growls, delivering a sharp slap to your ass that makes you moan.

You feel the heat of his hand dip between your thighs, fingers sliding over your slippery folds, and you can’t help but push your ass back against his touch, knees spreading as wide as they’ll go.

“Look at you. You’re desperate for it.” He sounds almost amazed. You whimper when he slides his fingers from your core, replacing them with the blunt head of his cock. “Well since you wanna act like a slut, I guess I have to fuck you like one, hm?”

Yes. Fucking. Please.

“Please,” you breathe, arching your back prettily for him, wiggling your hips in a way that makes him hiss. “Want it, please.”

Yoongi teases you for a moment, rubbing his tip through your soaked folds, but then the warmth of his body disappears from behind you. “Nah. I changed my mind,” he finally says, smacking your ass once more. “Turn over. I wanna see your face when I cum inside this pussy.”

Oh.

You’ve never moved so fucking fast in your life. Within seconds you’re on your back, and Yoongi doesn’t waste any time either, slotting his body between your legs with ease. You both moan when he finally slides into you, one of his hands coming up to cradle your face.

Yoongi’s always been so patient, much more patient than you. He gives you time to adjust to the stretch of him, his thumb sweetly caressing your cheek as you look into each other's eyes.

But that’s pretty much all the grace you get.

Once he’s sure you’re ready, the first snap of his hips has you reeling, your eyes rolling back in your head. And then he’s fucking you for real, setting a pace that has you crying out his name.

“Fuckin’ love being inside you,” he grunts, his eyes fixed on where your bodies meet so he can watch the way his cock slides in and out of you. “Pussy was made for me, wasn’t it, baby?”

You don’t think you could speak if you tried, too high on the feeling of Yoongi’s cock hitting that place inside you that makes you see stars. Instead, you turn your head, craning your neck until you can get the thumb that was rubbing your cheek into your mouth.

You love Yoongi’s hands. Love how strong and capable they are, love how gentle they can be even when he’s fucking you this hard. You could live and die with Yoongi’s fingers in your mouth and you’d be a happy, happy woman.

Yoongi groans, his thrusts growing rougher as you wrap your lips around his thumb and suck. “There’s my good girl,” he praises. “Fuck, you’re so pretty, baby.”

You preen at the praise, looking up at him through your lashes as you moan around the digit. But then Yoongi’s using his free hand to hitch your leg around his hip, driving his cock even deeper into you somehow, and you’re pulling off of his thumb with a sob.

“Yoongi! F-fuck, it’s too much—”

“You begged for this,” he growls. His thumb, slick with your spit, travels down to circle a nipple, your breath getting caught in your throat when he adds his forefinger and pinches. “You said you could handle it. So take it.”

He keeps fucking into you, rough and relentless, and even though you’ve been reduced to a sobbing mess, it feels so fucking good. So you do what he says and take what he’s giving you.

Satisfied, Yoongi dips down to lave his tongue over your other nipple, sucking it into his mouth as your hands fly to grasp at his hair.

“Nnnghh, Y-yoongi,” you moan. “Feels so g-good.”

With one final flick of his tongue against your breast, he comes back up to kiss you, his mouth moving against yours with an urgency that takes your breath away.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, pressing his forehead against yours. His hands come up to cradle your face again, wiping errant tears from your cheeks. “Love you so much.”

“Love you too,” you sob, using the much-needed reprieve to catch your breath.

“Taking me so good,” he breathes, thrusts growing erratic as he pants against your mouth. “Can’t wait to give you a baby.”

You moan, clenching around him in response. “Need you to cum,” you pant, delirious. “Please, Yoongi, wan’ you to fill me up.”

“Fuck,” he moans, eyes squeezing shut as if he’s pained. “‘M gonna. Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Do me a favor and rub your clit for me, m’kay my love?”

You do as you’re told, slipping a hand between your sweaty bodies. It’s not going to take much at this point, not with how desperate he looks above you. He’s a fucking sight for sore eyes, lips bitten and pupils blown as he tracks the movement of your hand.

“Shit, you’re so sexy,” he groans. “Gonna cum.”

You’re right there with him, both of you moving in perfect synchrony as you chase your release. All it takes is a few passes of your fingers over your clit before your vision goes white, a sob escaping your throat as you feel Yoongi spill into you with a groan.

You cling to him, arms wrapped around his neck as he presses sloppy kisses to your naked shoulder. “God,” you breathe, thighs shaking when you stretch your legs out.

You both gasp for breath, skin sticking together from the sweat that’s been created between you.

“Yoongi?” you mumble. He hums, lifting his head to look down at you. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asks, brows furrowing in confusion. Then, he grins tiredly. “For giving you the creampie of the century?”

“Ew,” you huff, flicking his forehead weakly. “No, idiot. For getting me out of my head.”

You know he knows what you mean. That’s what you do for each other. Yoongi knows how to calm you down like no one else, and you know you do the same for him. It’s a perfect give and take.

“I don’t know if this will be… If this is the time that’s gonna give us a baby,” you continue, lips twisting as your eyes water slightly. “But I can’t imagine a better man to be the father of my child. I just want you to know that.”

Yoongi softens, taking in your words. Wordlessly, he dips down, eyes fluttering shut as he kisses you tenderly.

“You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met,” he says, his voice gentle. “I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.”

The two of you lay there for a long time, bodies tangled together as you process everything that just happened. What it means for both of you.

The best part of being with Yoongi, from the very beginning, was that nothing had to change for either of you. You could be married to Yoongi and to your job at the same time, build your career from the ground up and never sacrifice a thing.

But this? Having a baby? It’s all going to be sacrifice. It won’t be just you and Yoongi anymore, living in your precious little workaholic love bubble. Everything is going to change.

Funnily enough, nothing has ever felt more right.

three —

It stands to reason that you find out that you’re pregnant in the office of Look Here Magazine. Where else?

You had your suspicions this morning, when you rolled out of bed nauseous as hell. But you also had an important interview scheduled for this afternoon—surely, you were just anxious about that. But the interview went great, and you still felt like shit afterwards.

And then you got sick. Like, really sick. In the bathroom of the store you’d stopped at to grab some ginger ale, hoping that would help with the nausea.

Instead of ginger ale, though, you watched with no small amount of shame as the clerk at the register rang up a pregnancy test for you, eyeing you with thinly veiled judgement. Whatever. Jealous bitch needs to get laid.

So here you are, locked in the single stall restroom at your office, staring down at two pink lines. Fuck.

You’re shaking like a leaf. You’re fucking giddy, of course you are, but holy shit. It’s real now. It’s real, and you’re at work, and Yoongi is at his studio, and all you want to do is call him and tell him the news. Because you’re overjoyed, but you’re also terrified, and when you get like this, he’s the only one who can make you feel better.

But you can’t. You don’t want to tell him over the phone. You want to see his reaction in real time, see the gummy smile you love so much, feel his warmth when he pulls you into his arms, kiss him stupid.

So instead, you pick your phone up with trembling hands and snap a picture, sending it straight to Rina.

It’s five in the morning in Athens. You know she won’t see it for another few hours. But it still calms you down enough to clean up and exit the bathroom, returning to your desk on shaky legs.

★ ★ ★

You can’t wait, as it turns out.

It’s seven in the evening. You got off of work less than thirty minutes ago, and you’re already all the way across town, riding in an ostentatiously large elevator to get to your husband’s swanky ass studio. You definitely broke several traffic laws to get here so fast, but you don’t care. Who knows when Yoongi will get home? You need to tell him now.

When the elevator doors slide open, allowing you to step foot onto Yoongi’s floor, you start to feel sick again. For a different reason this time.

You know Yoongi’s going to be just as psyched as you are, but still, what if he’s not? What if he’s scared shitless and all of a sudden he changes his mind about this? You both wanted a baby, but it sure as shit feels completely different now that it’s real.

You don’t know what you’re going to do if he has a change of heart. Fuck. Flee the country, probably.

You put one foot in front of the other, following the familiar path to Yoongi’s studio. Your heart races as you punch in the code you know by heart, gut twisting as the whir of the lock fills your ears. And then you’re stepping inside, slipping your shoes off at the door with the expression of a sighted rabbit on your face.

Yoongi spins around in his chair, eyes widening at your unexpected presence. “Hey,” he greets, visibly puzzled as he gets up to pull you into a hug. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Hey,” you breathe, heartbeat thrumming in your ears. But still, it feels nice to be in his arms after the day you’ve had. “I didn’t know I was. Sorry if I’m interrupting.”

“Nah, don’t apologize. I need a break anyway,” he says, pulling away to study your face. “Everything okay?”

“Um!” you squeak out, grabbing his hands to pull him towards the couch in the corner of his studio, sinking down on the worn leather. You stare down at the material beneath you. He really needs to replace this thing. “Yes? I think so. I hope so.”

“You’re scaring the piss out of me, Y/N,” he huffs, settling down next to you. Gently, his fingers grasp your chin, lifting your head so you’re looking straight at him. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Swallowing thickly, you shift your bag into your lap, digging around in it for a moment until you can procure what you need. Shakily, you hold out two positive pregnancy tests for him to see. God, pregnancy is so gross. You’re holding pee sticks in your hand.

“I’m, um…”

“You’re pregnant,” Yoongi breathes, eyes widening in amazement as he stares at the little lines. Tearing his eyes away, he gapes at you. “You’re pregnant? We’re going to have a baby?”

“I think so,” you say, chewing at your bottom lip nervously.

“Shit,” he says, grinning so wide you can’t help but return it. “We’re going to be parents!”

Before you know it, tears are streaming down your face, even as you laugh in disbelief along with him. You never should’ve doubted him, not even for a second.

“We’re going to be parents,” you sob, still clutching the positive tests in your hand as you speak through your tears. “Can I put these down? It’s so gross. I peed on these.”

Laughing, Yoongi takes the tests from your hand and sets them aside, pulling you into his lap so he can kiss you silly. “Fuck,” he murmurs, breaking away with a sniffle. “I’m so happy.”

Fuck. He can’t do that. He can’t cry, too. You don’t think you can take it.

“Me too,” you say, wiping at your eyes. Then you smack his shoulder, sniffling yourself. “You can’t cry, stupid. You’re supposed to be the strong one.”

Another laugh bubbles up from his throat, nothing but fondness and joy in his watery eyes. “I think for the next nine months, you’re one hundred percent going to be the strong one,” he says, staring down at your belly with awe.

It’s crazy. There’s nothing there yet, but yes there is.

“Yoongi,” you whimper, mouth twisting as you try to hold back another wave of tears. “We’re going to be parents.”

“We’re going to be parents,” he repeats, swallowing thickly as he meets your eyes again. “Fuck.”

“Fuck,” you agree. You’re delirious, so happy you think you could pass out. “I love you.”

Pulling you into a tight hug, Yoongi rubs your back soothingly. “I love you so much, baby,” he breathes as he nuzzles into your hair.

Nothing has ever felt more right.

four —

Yoongi is going to kill somebody. It’s only a matter of time.

He was close, in that stupid fucking airport. It was going to be that bitchy flight attendant. It was. She’d been testing his patience all goddamn morning, getting testy every time he asked for updates on his flight, and Yoongi was already barely hanging on by a thread. But then he could practically hear your voice in his ear. Don’t be a jackass. It’s not her fault your flight is delayed, you’d say. Because you’re his voice of reason when he can’t keep himself in check.

So the flight attendant was spared.

Then, it was going to be the snot-nosed little brat that kept kicking the back of Yoongi’s seat the whole way home. He had booked the flight last minute, unable to upgrade past economy. Which was fine. It’s not like Yoongi’s a snob!

He was just already pissed off. He wanted—no, needed—to be with you, instead of cruising at 35,000 feet, stuck in his very own personal saw trap. But you’d insisted he go on this stupid ass work trip, eviscerating every single logical objection he tried to make. You were impossible to reason with lately.

So there he was.

In the end, the kid was spared, too. Only because throttling a child would probably look really bad for him, considering the circumstances.

The universe just seemed to be working against him, even after the plane touched down on the tarmac. Because of course! Of course it took him forever to find his stupid suitcase. Of course it took him even longer to get an Uber. Of course there was traffic on the way! Why not? What’s one more ‘fuck you, Min Yoongi’?

And of course, when he finally makes it, when he’s panting and out of breath, suitcase in hand as he searches wildly for the room number he was texted, the first person he sees is not you.

“Well look what the cat dragged in!”

Yeah, Rina might not make it. He’s sure you’ll understand.

Yoongi appreciates Rina, he really does. He tries to be there for you when you need him, but sometimes, despite his best efforts, he can’t be. It’s just the way life works. But Rina always steps in when she’s needed. Today is a great example.

That being said, Rina also has a tendency to step in when she’s not needed. Or particularly wanted. Like the entire past month, living in his guest bedroom to dote on you even though—apart from the work trip you insisted he go on—Yoongi has literally been working from home since month six, at your beck and call.

Yoongi gets it. Rina is your best friend. He knows you’ve been elated to have her closeby this past month. But still, Yoongi would’ve paid for a hotel room for her or something. It’s been a little weird trying to, like, fuck his super hot pregnant wife knowing her best friend is just across the hall.

“Hi, Rina,” he says, deadpan even as he’s catching his breath. “Wanna point me in the direction of my wife?”

“She’s piiiiiissed at you,” Rina sing-songs, grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

Yoongi’s eye twitches.

“Because I’m late?” he guesses.

“Because you impregnated her in the first place.”

“Great,” he says, choosing not to engage. He points at a door. “There?”

“Good luck, champ,” Rina says in response, waving him through. Like he needs fucking permission to see you. Don’t engage don’t engage don’t engage.

Huffing, he opens the door to what he can only hope is actually your room, closing it softly behind him.

“Yoongi,” you warble.

There you are.

Suddenly, it’s like none of the events that have transpired today matter one fucking bit. Not the frantic voicemail he’d woken up to, the delayed flight, the bratty kid, none of it.

You look like an angel. A very pregnant, very stressed angel, but his angel nonetheless.

“Baby,” he breathes. He’s by your side in an instant, carding his fingers through your hair. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“How was your trip?” you ask, leaning into his touch so sweetly. Man, he missed you.

“About as pointless as I thought it’d be. Just wanted to be with you the whole time.”

“Well, you’re here now.”

“Yeah. I’m here now,” he hums, pressing a kiss to your sweaty temple. “How are you feeling?”

You huff at that, staring up at him like he’s stupid. Or like Rina wasn’t lying when she said you’re pissed at him.

“Like my vagina will never be the same again, thanks to you,” you grumble. “I can’t believe I let you do this to me. I’m going to make you pay, Min Yoongi.”

“Feel free,” he huffs, unable to suppress the small smile quirking at the corners of his lips. He can’t help it. You can be pissed at him all you want, he’s just happy to see you. “I’ll even remind you, if you want. Do you want me to put a date on your calendar?”

“Don’t push it,” you grit out, glaring daggers at him.

“You’re the only one doing the pushing today, baby.”

“God, I hope so,” you whine. “Get this thing out of me! It’s not fair that you get to be a DILF and I have to be all big and gross.”

A DILF???

“Baby,” Yoongi coos, doing his best to stifle the laughter threatening to break free. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. You’re glowing.”

“It’s sweat,” you deadpan.

“No, I��m serious,” he insists, taking your hands in his despite the way you try to whack him away. Despite his amusement, he’s completely sincere when he says, “You are the most beautiful woman in the world. Don’t be like that.”

“Really?” you pout.

Yoongi nods sagely, squeezing your hands. “One hundred percent a MILF.”

You groan, whacking his hands away in irritation, successfully this time. “Make yourself useful and go get me some ice chips, motherfucker.”

He snorts, backing towards the door with a little salute. “Yes ma’am,” he says. “I’ll be back in a few. I love you.”

“I love you too. Asshole.”

As he slips out of your room, he swears he catches the corners of your lips turning up, although you try valiantly to hide it.

Yeah. You’re going to be just fine.

five —

It’s been nine months—thirty six weeks, because apparently babies are measured in weeks for some reason—since Min Penny was brought into this world. Yoongi doesn’t think he’ll ever get sick of looking at her.

She looks so much like you, it’s crazy. Every time he says that, you’re quick to tell him just how wrong he is—that she has Yoongi’s nose, Yoongi’s eyes, Yoongi’s smile—but when he looks at her, all he sees is you.

He loves it. She’s perfect.

She sleeps every night in a crib that Yoongi built, surrounded by stuffed animals that you handpicked, in a home that you two have made together.

Yoongi couldn’t be happier.

The three of you have spent the last week or so in Daegu, and Yoongi’s parents have had ample time to get plenty of pictures and shower Penny with gifts that she proceeds to shove in her mouth at every opportunity.

It’s time to head back home, but not before a little detour.

The weather is perfect today, giving both of you an opportunity to celebrate Penny’s half birthday the way you’ve been wanting to. A little overcast, but not so much that there’s a chance of rain. Really, it couldn’t be any better.

Yoongi’s always hated the beach, but a weekend trip to Jeju with his family didn’t sound half bad when you’d pitched it. And now that he’s here, sprawled out on a blanket on Jungmun Saekdal Beach while you shovel Jolly Pong into Penny’s waiting mouth, he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

When Penny grows disinterested in the Jolly Pong, you take a moment to adjust the little yellow sun hat you’d bought for her earlier and then lean back on your hands.

“Isn’t that view beautiful?” you sigh.

It’s so silly. You’re gazing out into the water, eyes sparkling as you take in the scenery in front of you. It’s beautiful here, it is. Yoongi hasn’t been to Jeju in a long time, and he’s sure the view is just as beautiful as you say. But all Yoongi can see is you. You, the amazing mother of his child.

You’re radiant, glowing in a way that he’s never seen before. Even after all this time, you never fail to take his breath away.

“Yeah,” he hums, his hand curling around yours where it rests in the sand. “It is.”

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luvismenu · 2 days ago

Text

> motive — pt.5 ,, index ! nsfw

. . brother's bestfriend!jungkook au . .

wc: 4.6k+

warnings: banter, teasing, lots of cursing ofc, kissing, some oral (fem recieving), fingering, clit play, he's kinda aggresive, jungkook being a dick in the end, cliffhanger-ish?

jeon jungkook is so fucking stubborn.

once he sets his mind on something, there’s no going back. if he thinks something might hurt someone, he won’t ever risk it. he doesn’t change his mind, doesn’t budge, doesn’t care how annoying it is. he’ll stick to his decision no matter what.

it’s a stupid habit, but he’s always been like this. and honestly, you’re starting to think he always will be.

you’ve known that ever since the bike incident from when you were kids. it was your brother’s bicycle. you really liked it, and you wanted to ride it secretly because you knew jimin wouldn't let you. you begged jungkook to let you, but he refused. your brother had told him, very seriously, that it would break his heart if you fell and got hurt. and, of course, jungkook listened. he took your brother’s words like gospel and never let you touch the bike.

it didn’t matter that you cried about it. even though he looked a little guilty seeing you bawling your eyes out, he still wouldn’t budge. your brother’s feelings came first, even if you were sitting there heartbroken.

and that was when you were four, and they were nine

jungkook never told you why he didn't let you touch your brother's bike either. you only know about this because jimin told you when you grew up. which really pissed you off.

maybe it’s a silly thing to still think about, but it’s just so annoying that he hasn’t changed. he’s always been like this— choosing what’s “right” even if it makes you mad.

sure, he’s not your best friend, but that doesn’t mean you both didn’t grow up together. you were always there, tagging along, watching him and jimin get into all kinds of trouble. and your brother always found ways to keep you quiet, too.

“jungkook, let's carry her on the way home.”

“jungkook, give her your candy so she won’t tell mom and dad.”

and it worked.

every time.

it was fun, you won’t lie. making them beg you not to rat them out, holding it over their heads. oh, it was so fucking fun.

it’s still almost the same, you know all your brother’s secrets, and by extension, jungkook’s. growing up with them, you picked up more than they ever wanted you to. and, well, why wouldn’t you use that information to your advantage? sometimes for fun, sometimes to get what you want.

and what did mufasa say? it’s the mother fucking circle of life.

“saw that you were with taehyung a few days ago,” jimin says casually as he pulls on his jacket.

you’re stretched out on the couch, scrolling through your phone. you’ve been debating whether or not to text jungkook, but you don’t want to look desperate. still, your fingers keep itching to type something.

your brothers words make you pause, but you don’t look up. instead, you respond simply, “yeah.”

“why?” he asks, his voice closer now. you glance up to find him standing right behind you, staring down.

you shrug, keeping your eyes glued to your phone. “just because.”

and then, without warning, he snatches the phone from your hands, holding it high above his head. you gasp, jumping up immediately.

“oh, you son of a—”

“careful,” he interrupts with a smug grin, “we share the same mother.”

you glare, crossing your arms. “give me my phone back.”

“answer me properly,” he counters. “do you like taehyung?”

your face scrunches in immediate disgust. “no! he just wanted to meet up and talk. you know, because he helped me with my projects back in middle school, and we were kinda like friends.” you emphasize the words as you uncross your arms, as if reminding him.

jimin sighs and finally lowers your phone, which you snatch back with lightning speed.

“okay,” he relents, “just don’t get too close to him.”

“why?” you deadpan, raising a brow. “because he’s a model too, and you’ve got some secret rivalry with him?”

“because he hurt my best friend,” jimin snaps, his tone sharp, “and i don’t want to think about it.”

you shut your mouth, his words leaving no room for argument. the silence between you grows thick for a moment.

then, finally, you speak up. “whatever. i’m going to watch a movie. don’t disturb me.”

“i won’t, cuz i’m going out,” jimin says, grabbing his car keys from the table.

“with?” you ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

“your mo— wait, shit, we have the same mom,” he mutters, catching himself, and you scrunch your nose in disgust but can’t help the small smile that slips out.

“your crazy model friends?” you fold your arms again,tilting your head.

“yes, my crazy, stupid, but rich model friends,” he grins smugly, “just like me.”

you roll your eyes and turn around, flopping back onto the couch dramatically.

“oh, and jungkook’s coming over,” he says as he heads for the door.

your ears perk up immediately, and you shoot up, blurting, “why?”

“it’s the weekend. he’s gonna sleep over,” jimin replies casually, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. and to be fair, it kind of is— jungkook crashing at your place is pretty routine. but the thing is, he’s always here for jimin, not you. all you and jungkook do is bicker whenever he’s around.

“but you’re going out,” you frown, watching him open the door.

“bro, this is my house, i’m coming back of course. don’t worry,” he says, rolling his eyes like you’re being ridiculous.

“but i don’t—”

“shush,” he cuts you off, stepping outside. “i am gonna be late because of you. take care of the house and don’t fight with jungkook.”

before you can argue back, he’s out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

you stare at the door for a moment, then slump back onto the couch, muttering to yourself.

“yeah, like that’s fucking possible.”

it doesn’t take long for jungkook to show up. the front door swings open casually, and he walks in like he owns the place, not even sparing you a glance. he heads straight for the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water, chugging it down like he just ran a marathon.

must’ve worked out.

you hear his footsteps as he walks into the living room, where you’re sprawled out on the couch, pretending to ignore him. well, pretending to mind your own business, at least.

your eyes flick to him briefly, and yep, there he is— in those stupidly attractive gray sweatpants and a black compression shirt that clings a little too well to his body. if you look at him for too long, you’re pretty sure you’ll do something you’ll regret.

nope. not worth it. you’re supposed to be mad at him.

what is annoying, though, is how quiet he has been ever since that conversation with him a few days ago. jungkook isn’t supposed to be quiet around you. if anyone gets to ignore anyone here, it’s you.

selfish? maybe. but it’s just you and him.

it is what it is.

“get up,” he says, standing right beside the couch where your legs are sprawled out. “i need to sit.”

you glance at him briefly and then smile. “there’s plenty of space,” you say, your voice sickly sweet. “outside. in the garbage bin.” your smile drops as you finish the sentence, and his frown deepens, his brows pulling together in a way that— unfortunately, makes him look even better.

even hotter.

“i wanna watch the movie too,” he says, ignoring your jab.

“too fucking bad,” you retort, keeping your eyes on the tv.

the notebook plays on the screen, and for a second, you think of how much you and jimin love this movie and how you all used to watch this movie when you were younger (but old enough to watch it). jungkook always sat through it with the two of you, even though you know it’s not his thing.

“i just came back from the gym,” he starts, his voice edged with frustration. “i could use some rest.”

“go to the other room, then. use the bed to res— hey!”

you’re cut off mid-sentence as he grabs your legs, effortlessly lifting them up. before you can protest, he flips them off the couch, forcing you to sit up as he plops himself down beside you.

he leans back, completely unfazed, and looks at the screen. “thanks,” he says smugly.

“fuck face,” you mutter under your breath, glaring at him.

your hands itch to smack the smirk off his face, but you just huff and turn back to the movie, crossing your arms in annoyance.

you grab your phone, your fingers moving quickly as you text yumi because you genuinely have no idea what to do or say right now.

you: how can this mfker sit here and act like nothing happened!?

yumi <3: he's at yours!?!?

you: yeah, sleepover

yumi <3: where's ur bro

you: out

yumi <3: so u're alone tg 😈

you: help me bae. he's acting like i didn't literally say that i fucking want him?? what do i do

yumi <3: what u always do babe ,, provoke him.

you glance over at jungkook, still seated on the couch, his eyes glued to the screen. his jaw is clenched slightly, and your gaze trails down his arm, taking in his tattoos, the way his biceps flex subtly as he rests his hand on his thigh. and that’s when an idea hits you.

without a word, you get up and walk to your room. you don’t notice it, but his eyes flick to you as you leave. his gaze lingers for a second, curious, but he quickly forces himself to look back at the screen.

in your room, you swap your pants for a pair of shorts— really short shorts. short enough to reveal your thigh tattoo.

you glance at yourself in the mirror and adjust them slightly, smirking to yourself.

with newfound confidence, you stride back into the living room. jungkook is still on the couch, his attention glued to the movie. he doesn’t even glance your way when you enter— typical.

you catch sight of the clutter on the glass table in front of him: bowls and empty cups.

perfect.

you move around the couch approach the table from the other side so he can see the tattoo and start tidying up, picking up the bowls one by one, moving slowly, purposefully. you stretch your leg just slightly as you reach for the furthest one, your thigh tattoo now fully visible.

jungkook notices. and oh, you can tell by the quick flick of his eyes, the way his jaw tightens for just a second. but he doesn’t say a word, keeping his gaze locked on the screen like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

you hold back a frustrated sigh, heading to the kitchen to put the bowls away. when you return, he’s still pretending not to notice you, still sitting there as if nothing’s changed.

so fucking stubborn. for what, though?

you stop and take a deep breath, deciding to try again. this time, you walk directly in front of the tv, deliberately blocking his view as you pretend to move things around the room.

he frowns almost immediately. “move out of the fucking way,” he says, voice sharp and annoyed.

“can’t,” you say, keeping your tone light and casual. “i’m busy doing something.”

you cross the room again, back and forth, shifting random items like it’s the most important task right now.

“do it later,” he snaps, the irritation growing in his voice. “i’m watching this,, aren’t i?”

you scoff, turning on your heel to face him. “so fucking what? you’ve seen this movie like, a hundred times!”

he stares up at you, still frowning. “what the fuck do you want?” his tone is calm, too calm, but there’s an edge to it that makes your stomach flip.

you cross your arms, glaring at him. “you know what i want.”

he raises an eyebrow, his jaw clenching as he leans back into the couch. “do i?”

“yes,” you snap as you glare down at him. “don't act stupid, jungkook. you know exactly what the fuck i want.”

he exhales sharply through his nose, running a hand through his dark hair. “i don't know what the fuck you're talking about so just fucking say it.”

you scoff, your brows furrowing deeper. “i did say it. you’re the one pretending like it didn’t happen, like i didn’t tell you—”

“because you don’t mean it,” he cuts you off, his voice low but steady.

you take a step back, stunned for a moment. “what?”

he leans forward now, resting his palms on his knees, his gaze boring into yours. “you’re just doing this to fuck with me, to get a reaction. and congrats, you fucking got one. are you happy now?”

your throat tightens, but you refuse to let him see how much his words sting. “you think i didn’t mean it?”

he doesn’t answer immediately, just stares at you, like he’s trying to read your mind.

“if i didn’t mean it,” you say, your voice softer now, “then why would i keep doing this? why the fuck would i care?”

“because you like attention, don't you?” he shoots back, his words sharper than you expected. “taehyung, me, whoever gives it to you.”

your jaw drops, anger and disbelief flooding you. “you’re such a fuckin—”

“don’t,” he cuts you off again, standing up now, towering over you. “don’t act like i’m the bad guy here. you’re the one who started this.”

you stare up at him, your chest rising and falling as frustration bubbles over. but you recover quickly, masking the storm inside you with a smirk. tilting your head slightly, you ask, “started what exactly?” your tone is light, almost mocking, daring him to say it out loud.

jungkook’s jaw tightens, his gaze locked on yours. he doesn’t back down, but he doesn’t answer immediately either, like he’s weighing his next move. you can see it— the slight flare of his nostrils, the clench of his fists at his sides.

“don’t play with me, ___.” he finally says, his voice low and rough.

your smirk widens, pushing him further. “am i really? becuz all i see is you getting worked up over nothing.”

“nothing?” he scoffs, stepping closer, closing the already minimal distance between you. “you’ve been pushing me, fucking testing me? what the fuck is that about?”

you hold your ground, refusing to back away. “and? what are you gonna do about it, jungkook? keep avoiding it like you always do?”

he lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “avoiding it? you’re fucking crazy. you think this is easy for me?”

“what’s not easy?” you press more, losing patience, your voice softening slightly. “tell me, jeon jungkook. what’s so hard for you?”

his eyes darken, his emotions clear on his face. “stop, ___.” he pauses. “stop pushing me before i—” he cuts himself off, shaking his head like he’s trying to regain control.

you feel your breath catch at his words, your heart pounding, but you don’t let it show. instead, you tilt your chin up, whispering, “no.. you need to stop fighting it, jungkook.” you lean in closer, your eyes never leaving his. “it's just you and me right now.”

for a moment, neither of you moves. the tension between you is palpable, electric, like something is about to snap. and this time, you’re not sure if you want to continue pushing him.

“shut the fuck up,” jungkook leans down, his breathe getting heavier

you smirk a little, whispering back, “fucking make me.”

and then suddenly he’s holding your jaw in his big, tattooed palm, his lips sear against yours kissing you with passion that you’ve always wanted to feel.

jungkook's hand tightens around your jaw as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth with a desperate hunger. you moan into his mouth as he pulls you against his body, his other hand wrapping around your waist.

breaking away for a ragged gasp, jungkook lifts you effortlessly into his arms, kissing you again. you wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. he puts you down gently on the couch where he'd been sitting moments before. though there's nothing gentle about the way his hands roam over your curves, hiking your shirt up a little.

jungkook pulls back just enough to glare down at you, his breaths ragged, his jaw clenched. his dark eyes bore into yours.

"i hate you," he grits out. his hand grips your thigh, sliding up to press firmly against your skin, sending shivers through your body.

your lips curl into a smirk, your breath hitching as his grip tightens. “do you?” you whisper, your voice teasing, daring him to keep going.

his fingers dig into your thigh, his gaze flickering to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “yeah, cuz you're so fucking annoying. i hate you so fucking much,” he mutters, leaning down to press his lips against your neck, kissing and biting on your sensitive skin.

a soft moan escapes you, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt as you arch into him. “yeah?” you breathe out, your smirk deepening. “i like knowing i get to you.”

his eyes snap to yours, his jaw tightening as he pulls your shorts down in one swift motion, revealing him your bare pussy. “so fucking bratty,” he mutters.

your breath hitches, your chest rising and falling as his fingers trace over the tattoo etched into your thigh, the one he gave you, the one that still turns him on whenever he thinks about how you teased him during the session.

you and your fucking mouth. he thinks.

his lips hover over your skin, his gaze fixed on the inked design before he lowers his head. his soft lips press against your hip, right where the tattoo starts.

his voice is quieter now, softer as he looks up at you. “does it still hurt?”

“so much,” you whisper, your voice shaky, but it’s clear your meaning has nothing to do with pain.

a smirk tugs at his lips, his eyes dark with intent as he begins kissing along the tattoo, lower and lower. each press of his lips sends a shiver through your body.

his hands grip your thighs firmly, holding you in place as his mouth continues its path, exploring every inch of your skin, lingering on the spots that make you squirm, but not touching the place you desparately need him to.

“you’re so quiet now, ___,” he murmurs against your thigh, his lips brushing over your skin. “what happened to that smart mouth of yours?”

you bite your lip, trying to hold back a sound. “fuck off,” you breathe out, your words make his smirk grow wider.

his hands grip your thighs, holding you open as his head moves fully between them. his eyes lock onto your bare pussy, and he curses under his breath.

he leans in, his tongue sliding in a long, slow stride over your folds, making your eyes flutter shut. a soft, needy moan escapes your lips, your body already trembling like you’ve been waiting for this moment forever.

because, well, you have.

his tongue moves through your folds with such a delicious rhythm, licking every inch of you. your breathing grows heavier with each stroke, his mouth exploring you like he’s memorizing every reaction.

when his tongue finds your clit, he flicks it expertly, a few quick strokes before sucking on it. the sensation sends a jolt of pleasure through you, your mind spiraling into a haze.

“fuck,” you whisper, barely able to form words as his mouth works wonders on you.

he doesn’t stop. his tongue continues to explore you, his lips wrapping around your clit again while his hand comes up to join the mix. two fingers slide over your slick folds before finding your clit, rubbing it in perfect rhythm with his tongue. when his mouth moves lower, licking at your entrance, your thighs quiver, and a sharp moan slips past your lips.

“this what you wanted?” he rasps, his voice rough as he glances up at you, his fingers still circling your clit. your back arches instinctively, your body responding to his touch, and you squirm under him, unable to keep still.

when you don’t answer fast enough, his hand lifts slightly before coming down with a sharp slap to your pussy. the sting makes you whimper, your eyes shooting open as he smirks.

“what’s wrong?” he taunts, his fingers rubbing over your folds soothingly. “for someone who bitches about everything, you're so fucking quiet now.”

he presses two fingers against your entrance, teasing you, his movements deliberate as your body tenses.

“wanna cum on my fingers?” he asks, his tone low, his thumb still rubbing lazy circles on your clit.

“y-yes,” you stammer, your voice shaky but desperate. “fuck yes, wanna cum on your fingers,” you moan, your body arching when you feel his fingers slide in.

“shit, look at you,” he groans, his voice rough as his fingers curl inside you, hitting the perfect spot. “dripping so good for me,”

your moan spills out involuntarily, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. your hand reaches out instinctively, gripping his that’s still holding your thigh, your touch shaky but needy.

his fingers pump in and out of you, his thumb pressing against your clit in perfect rhythm. the wet sounds of your pussy, with your breathless moans, echo in the room mixed with the movie still playing in the background; filling his head with even more desire. his eyes flicker down to the visible bulge in his sweatpants, hard and straining against the fabric as he takes in the sight of you.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, almost to himself, his movements never faltering. watching you like this; squirming, moaning, completely falling apart— does something to him he can’t ignore. he never thought it would actually come to this.

but he can’t deny it. he’s thought about it. more times than he’d ever admit. even when he tried to push those thoughts away, when he tried to convince himself it was wrong to see you like this, he could never stop. every time you provoked him, every time you pushed his buttons, it only made him think about it more.

and now? now he’s fucking gone. he loves this. he loves having you squirm beneath him.

“f-fuck, j-jungkook, so good!” you cry out, your voice trembling as your back arches off the couch. your brows pinch together, your lips parted, your entire body trembling under his touch. your eyes flutter shut, so close to rolling back, completely lost in the overwhelming sensation he’s giving you.

“yeah?” he breathes, his tone low and wrecked. “you look so fucking pretty like this, so fucking beautiful..” his pace quickens, his fingers pumping deeper, harder, pushing you closer and closer.

“that’s it, just like that,” he coaxes, as his fingers continue working inside you. his thumb presses firmly against your clit, circling it with just the right amount of pressure, driving you even closer to your release.

your breathing turns ragged, your body trembling beneath his touch as the heat coils tighter in your core. “j-jungkook, i’m gonna—”

“do it,” he murmurs, his gaze locked on your face, watching every expression, every twitch. “fucking cum for me,”

your body tenses, back arching. your walls clench around his fingers as your orgasm washes over you, waves of pleasure crashing through every nerve. you grip his wrist tightly, probably marking him, your thighs trembling as you ride out the high.

he slows his movements, letting you catch your breath, but he doesn’t pull away. instead, he watches you, his eyes dark and full of something you can’t quite place. he gently slips his fingers out, glistening with your release, and you watch, dazed, with your half-open eyes, as he brings them to his lips.

“fuck,” he mutters, licking his fingers clean, his tongue swirling around them as if savoring every taste of you. his gaze meets yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “you taste fucking divine.”

“jungkook,” you whisper, your voice shaky but soft, not entirely sure what to say.

but.. before you can say anything, your phone starts ringing. both of your heads snap to the table where it’s vibrating.

the contact name reads “hater,” which you both know means jimin.

your eyes flick to jungkook. his expression shifts, and his hands, which were so close to touching you again, retreat. he steps back, leaving you frowning and still catching your breath.

“shit…” he mutters, standing up quickly, like he's guilty. you push yourself up too, sitting on the couch, not caring about the mess or the fact that you're still half-naked.

“are you fucking serious right now?” you snap, your voice dripping with frustration.

he sighs deeply, rubbing a hand over his face. “just fucking pick it up.”

you scoff but grab your phone anyway, answering it and immediately putting it on speaker.

“what the fuck do you want?” you hiss.

“woah, who hurt you dumbass?” jimin’s voice is light, teasing.

you roll your eyes as jungkook silently fixes his clothes, avoiding your gaze.

“what is it?” you ask, your tone sharper than you intended.

“tell jungkook i’ll be late,” jimin says casually. “i texted him, but he wasn’t answering.”

jungkook looks around, realizing he left his phone on the kitchen counter earlier.

“is that all, brother?” you say, your voice dripping with fake sweetness, emphasizing the last word

“yeah, sister,” jimin replies mockingly, playing along. “go to sleep, it’s late, and don’t worry about jungkook.”

“care about your stupid model friends instead,” you mutter and hang up before he can say more.

jungkook exhales heavily, picking up your shorts from the floor. he places them gently on your lap, covering you, though he avoids looking at you entirely.

“what now? you’re just going to do nothing?” you demand, your voice rising with frustration.

“shut up, ___,” he says, his tone low. “we went too far. we need to stop. it’s better that we—”

“don’t tell me to shut it!” you snap, your voice breaking slightly. “you liked it just as much as i did! and—” you point at his pants, your eyes narrowing. “you’re still fucking hard, so don’t act like it didn’t mean anything.”

he groans, pressing his palm to his face. “just fucking get dressed. go to sleep.” he sighs. “we’re done here. don’t ever bring this up again.”

his words feel like a slap to the face.

“you’re just gonna walk away?” you askbut he doesn’t respond.

jungkook grabs his phone from the kitchen, heading for the front door.

“where are you even going?” you demand, anger and hurt swirling in your chest.

“out. need to cool off,” he says without looking back and walks out, the door shutting behind him.

you sit there, staring at the door.

this hurts. so. fucking. much.

what the fuck is his problem?

you want to scream, to fight, to get some kind of answer out of him, but he’s gone.

this was not okay. you can't forgive him. too fucking far.

you fucking hate jungkook.

note: wait ngl lmao i think i had a little too much fun w this ,, even though i was crying & trying to make the smut part even better 🥴

no series taglist !!

💌 permanent taglist: @annyeongbitch7 @internetrando64 @jkvias @lovieku @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @onlyforyoukook @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @jaytheatiny @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @genevieveeeee

@134340-kr @mar-lo-pap @fluttershypoo @kyuupii @https-mei @elinaki92 @jungkookmyoneandonlybaby @hoseokteardrop @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @jaykay-world @jmscaffeine @libra04 @beigerin @nikidream24 @svnbangtansworld @mimi1097 @kookoo-kachoo @junecat18 @iheartchanelle @rrosiitas @jjeonjjk7 @remgeolli @ty-moy-ya-tvoy @rpwprpwprpwprw

#jungkook smut #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #smut #fanfic #bts jungkook #smau #jk fic #jk x reader

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cvnntagious · 2 days ago

Text

:: babydaddy!matt finally confronts brat!reader about her sudden distance, but it doesn’t quite go as expected

conversations like these were hard for matt, to say the least — he hated to feel like he was overstepping boundaries you'd so carefully set in any way, but he had to. everything was going so well between you two. for it to all suddenly slip between his ringed fingers like water? he couldn't just sit back and let you push him away like this.

with the silence in the living room, save for the cartoon mazzy had fallen asleep watching beside matt, he felt a familiar yearning in his chest. now had to be the time. he was done psyching himself out of words like he had the past week now.

standing from his spot, careful not to wake the sleeping toddler, matt practically tip-toed over to your bedroom. your head snapped up when you heard the three soft knocks on your door frame, assuming it was matt getting ready to tell you he was heading home for the night, like had become recent routine. matt then cleared his throat, shoving his hands in his pockets in a brief moment of silence. "you're gonna have to tell me what's wrong eventually, " he finally spoke up, heart pounding in his eardrums like they never had before.

"what?" was your immediate reply, playing dumb as your deadpan facial expression remained unwavering.

matt's eyebrows immediately furrowed, knowing you were just playing games with him now. he couldn't be too upset though, or else he'd never get to the bottom of all your weird behavior. "baby, is it something i did?" he questioned, completely disregarding your clueless act, "we can talk this through; we always do. you just have to tell me what's wrong."

the way you looked at him - like he were some sort of lunatic standing in front of you - he couldn't say it didn't hurt. always being 'mr. fix it' was getting exhausting, and for probably the first time since he met you, matt began to wonder if it was all really worth it. all the games you played, tugging at his heart strings and using your guys' child to manipulate him... there had to be something more out there, right? was driving him crazy fun for you?

a clear desperation wrote itself all over matt's face, his expression as he stood so timidly in your doorway making you want to crawl out of your skin. “matt…” you trailed off, shifting your seated position in your bed.

“what?” he replies, voice coming out in an almost whine-like manner. he felt this insatiable sense of dread wash over him, like he somehow knew what you were going to say before you even said it.

but when you remained silent, he just couldn’t take it anymore. “y- y’know what, forget i even said anything,” he finally breathed out, an empty feeling at the idea of giving up so easily — there was nothing else he could do, though. he knew how you were: if you didn’t want to talk, you simply weren’t going to. that’s what he told himself.

and he began to turn away, one hand clinging to your doorframe as if it were telling him he needed to stay. “matt, come sit.”

he stopped in his tracks, ears practically perking up at the sentence. his head instantly snapped in your direction, bright blue eyes widened in surprise when they caught you patting the empty space of your bed in front if you. he almost didn’t believe it, all the negative emotions that had once rushed through him in painful waves seeming to instantly subside as a glimmer of hope fluttered in his chest.

maybe that was stupid of him, but this was a real step for you two. a big one, he was sure of it. he wasted no time in taking a few steps across the room to reach you, carefully sitting in front of you. watching as matt bit the inside of his cheek in anticipation, a nervous habit he’s had all the time you’ve known him, you took a deep breath to prepare yourself.

matt was so ready. he needed to know what was wrong, eyes eagerly scanning your face at the idea of you finally opening up to him after all this time. “you know you’re a great dad, right?” you muttered, your words much different than what he’d expected.

that caught him off guard, a small twitch in his features telling you he was a bit confused. he wasn’t sure what mazzy had to do with any of this. you two were co-parenting just fine, always have been, whether you were on good terms or not. but he kept quiet, silently urging you to explain yourself.

“and you’re so loving–full of emotions that…” you paused, trying to think of the right words.

somehow, matt was catching on, no longer so pleased with the idea of you ‘opening up’ to him anymore. it was like you’d taken him on a roller coaster he didn’t sign up to ride, and he hated that. “…that i can’t handle.”

right, he knew that. matt knew you were never fond of his big emotions, always telling him he can be too much at times. and he understood. he never wanted to put whatever he was feeling onto you. he wasn’t, though; he knew he wasn’t. so what’s all this about?

it took a moment for matt to think up a response, sighing a bit before he cleared his throat. “i don’t get what that has to do with you acting all weird. i’ve only been trying to keep us together… as a family,” he opposes, shrugging a bit to seem less caught up about this than he actually was.

too quick for matt’s comfort, you nodded, a small hum following. “does that apply to the sex, too?”

almost taken aback, his mouth opened as if he were ready to say something, but nothing came out. “you suck at no strings attached, matthew. i know what you’re thinking every time you come around,” you added, each word like a barbed blade stabbing at an open wound. was this too cruel? no, it couldn’t be—you were only telling him the truth, and god, did he need to hear it. “you think that whenever we’re sleeping together, we’re on ‘good terms’, like it’s grounds for fixing everything and becoming one happy family where your daughter’s parents are happily in love.”

you had him there and he knew it, but for you to just sit and tell him all his efforts are for nothing so easily? he knew there had to be something more to it. you weren’t telling him something. “but when we’re not-”

“it doesn’t work that way. now go home, matt”

and don’t ever say matt was in denial because he’s not… at least, that’s what he told himself as he did the walk of shame from your apartment to his car, that nagging feeling of yearning he’d felt earlier somehow worse now.

w/c : 1.1k

a/n : there will be no part two

-love, your grandma cvnty ☆!

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moodymisty · 2 days ago

Note

Could we get some more of Theo the Lamenter and his serf girlfriend, please? Maybe something NSFW?

They're just so sweet together!

Author's note: slight continuation to this post where Theo returns to his mea- love 🖤 did the ladder half while I'm in the hospital and am posting it right as I get ready for surgery, hope it still reads ok!

Relationships: Theo (Lamenter oc)/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Period kink, Oral (female receiving) Blood,

When Theo enters the restrictive confines of his quarters, the heady smell of iron and blood instantly fills his nose, heavy in his throat. He can taste it on the back of his tongue, and his mouth begins to fill with drool.

He closes the door behind him and it hisses shut, leaving him in the tight confines at last. He never imagined he would miss it; Barely wider than his outstretched arms with his cot and a few other small things. Now that you live in here with him, the underside of the cot filled with your things- he was much more amenable to the concept of this being a place he wanted to return to.

A home, one might say.

You're asleep curled in the blankets spread across his cot, many of them from your own quarters. The ship runs cold, and you lack his body mass to create enough heat on your own. When he's with you it's easy for you to steal his body heat, curling into the nook of his armpit and side, but when he's gone you're forced to use the copious amounts of blankets. They don't bother him, as long as your much more fragile body is well.

Theo knows you'll want him to wake you up so you can see him, as he doesn't know how long he will have with you this time. Stepping closer he leans down and jostles your shoulder, your head turning away from how it was smushed into the pillow.

He takes a breath, trying to withhold his hunger.

"Love, I have returned."

The way you go to face him and light up warms him, how despite the tiredness your eyes widen and glow with unfettered love.

"Theo!"

Your hands- so much more delicate than his- tug at his robes more so to pull you up towards him, than to pull him down to you. Your lips meet his, and he delights in the feeling of your hands wrapping in his hair once he puts an arm on your back to keep you up. His other hand presses into the cot, supporting himself as your mouth moves along with his, the soft sounds filling the room.

"I missed you," You whisper, and his brow furrows a bit. You shirk a bit, but a smile still remains on your face. You know what you did.

"I was informed." His face still remains stoic. "I told you that vox was for emergencies. When you voxxed I was concerned something had happened." You wilt a bit, the mischievousness fading to some level of shame. Theo feels a bit guilty for it, and lays off. He knows his tone can be too harsh for you- he's used to commanding seasoned astartes, talking to a woman like you is still, unfamiliar.

"Don't do that again. I worry for you on this ship alone."

It repeats in his head; He'll never tell you about the dreamed up vox from a fellow Lamenter he had that woke him up in a cold sweat.

Theo can't help but find potential dangers and enemies in everyone, even if he knows his brothers would never harm you, the other serfs you rarely speak with. He still feels as if something could go wrong and he would be miles away, fighting a wave of tyranids or orks and he would be none the wiser.

If one of his brothers fell to the Red Thirst and you were close...

"I promise I won't. I just, wasn't thinking straight."

Theo uses that hand supporting you to gently rub along your back. He notices some of your coyness return.

"But, I am still bleeding," Your lips are parted slightly in the preparation to speak, and Theo always finds himself a bit distracted by how sometimes, he can see the soft glistening of the wet of your lip. "If you're hungry."

By the Throne he is, but he doesn't want to just take it. No matter how many times you've said he just can, that he doesn't need to wait for so long and then ask, but the guilt still overtakes him.

Perhaps one day he'll just take without asking, but the guilt of the idea still eats at him.

"If you will let me." He sees you nod, but the thick smell of your arousal is more than enough for him.

Removing his hand from your back he lets you fall back onto the cot, shifting to push you upward and make room on the bottom half of it for him. He is forced to untangle your body from blanket after blanket you'd wrapped around yourself, the smell getting thicker with each one removed. When he finally reaches your skin, he watches the way your body flexes as his hands brush along your thighs and reach for your underwear.

It's one fell motion to pull them off of you, his hands returning to your inner thighs now and slowly pushing them apart. They fall apart with his hands, revealing to him your soft cunt slick with blood. His head falls cheek resting on the innermost apex of your thigh, breathing in.

Before he met you, the way his hunger grew so quickly and threatened to overtake him would fill him with shame, and when he'd first begun to fall for you, the first of your cycles in his presence had nearly made him lose control.

Now he can give in to it so easily, hearing you beg for something that to the Lamenters, is a curse of their genes. Your kindness is a gift he can never return in full, but he's selfish enough to just continue taking it.

"Please, please I want it,"

Theo would normally feel guilty, but you beg him so sweetly, and he knows doing this actually helps you feel better.

Makes the stomach pain hurt less, you say. He didn't entirely believe you at first, his lack of understanding of the female form and his worry you were trying to be strong for him. But, he made a comment to another Lamenter he knows has a female personal serf, and he said she told him the same.

Theo finds it interesting, how the term personal serf has become so ubiquitous with lover. As astartes they are discouraged from such pursuits, but that doesn't mean they haven't found ways.

His hot breath fans over your core, the very apex of that heady, bloody smell. He feels his hunger rise in him- he must control it- lips pressing against your outer lips as his tongue slips between.

He tells himself he must control it, but the moment your mix of blood and honey hits his tongue he is gone; His mouth pressing harder against your cunt pulled closer by a tightened grip on your hips.

You moan, loudly, and he would be concerned of someone overhearing had the walls not been inches thick metal, and his mind long since having faded the outside world to nothing but a bygone void.

Blood smears across his mouth, what little hasn't been eaten, and the cry of you cumming on his face only spurs him on more. He tastes you as you cum, mixed with flesh blood.

Your hands tangle in his hair and try to pull him closer, as if he isn't already pressed against your cunt hard enough to feel the bones of your pelvis resist him, nose rubbing on your clit and making you squeal. His hands push on your thighs, pushing them back and out- it causes your hips to raise just slightly and makes it easier for him to eat you deeper. With his strength you have no need to try and support yourself, completely limp on his cot as he laps at your entrance before pushing his tongue in.

Your hips thrash as the sloppy sounds of his mouth against your cunt fills the small quarters, only beaten by the creaking of the cot. He briefly moves away from your entrance to lap at your clit, and the way it has you squealing makes him groan against your cunt and unconsciously grind against the bed.

"Theo, Theo please,"

You mewl so wonderfully for him, wanting more, willingly feeding him. He laps at you with fervor, feeling his hunger slowly fade away. At least his hunger for blood, his hunger for you however only increases, as he smells your wanton body. You need to be filled, your body is telling you, and Theo will more than satiate it when his hunger has disappated.

Your hips shift underneath his hands in a desperate attempt to do anything at all, only to be met with the unmovable strength of an astartes. The afterglow is blinding- Theo can hear your heartbeat in his ears along with your deep breathing. You can barely speak, but he talks anyways.

"Do you want more, love?"

He whispers against your thighs, knowing the answer. He'd be tempted to do just it, he knows you'll say yes, but something about you drabbing him closer by his hair invigorates him; he dives in for another feast and relishes in the way you scream.

#space marine x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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probablysimpledreams · 2 days ago

Text

Another Chance (Dabi x reader)

a/n: grrrr all I can think about is Touya I just love him so so much!!! His ending and the entire LOV's endings still have me so :( and I've been imagining what it would look like if they all survived the war and got to live. Which led me to write up this fic where the reader was dating Dabi pre-war and didn't know he survived until Shoto sought you out and allow y'all to reunite!!! There's a hint of angst but overall it's very cutey because Touya deserves all the love!!!

wc: 1017

"I've killed over 30 innocent civilians. The firstborn of the Todoroki family. I am going to tell you all why I committed these heinous crimes."

Despite the words leaving the villain's mouth, you couldn't help but smile softly as you rewatched Dabi's reveal video for the fifth time. Work was slow and you were missing him a little more than usual today. Besides, it really was all you had left of him.

It had been almost three months since the war between heroes and villains went down, completely changing the world you once knew. This meant it was coming up on three months since you last saw your lover. Since the night he broke up with you, saying his time in this world was up and you should move forward. Without him.

"Excuse me," a young man says as he approaches the front desk you're seated behind. His voice snaps you out of your spiraling heartbroken thoughts. You take a deep breath, pulling yourself together and throwing on your customer service face. "Are you ______?"

"I am. How can I help you today?"

"My name is Shoto Todoroki." Your stomach drops. "Do you have a minute to talk?"

-----------------------------

For the first time in months, the week flew by. Today was finally the day you were going to reunited with Dabi. As excited as you were, anxiety was growing more and more inside your head. What if he didn't actually want to see you? What if you only make things harder for him? He was already suffering so much, maybe it would be better if you just went home and never came back and-

"He's going to be happy to see you." Shoto smiles as he places a hand on your shakey shoulder, breaking silence in the waiting room where you sat with his siblings and mother, all waiting for Touya to wake up from his nap.

"Yeah the idiot has been saying your name like every other day," Natsuo chimes in with a wide grin. "Still can't believe out of all his secrets, he had a gorgeous partner this whole time. You sure you're not some spy or something?" Fuyumi slaps his shoulder, shooting you an apologetic look before the two bicker. You chuckle at the sight, feeling your anxiety go down. You never imagined Dabi would have come from such a lively family.

"He's awake," a nurse approaches your group. You stand up with his siblings, Rei smiling softly at everyone before you all walk into his hospital room.

"Touya-nii," Shoto is the first to speak upon entering the room. "You have a guest."

"Yeah well fuck off," he grumbles, closing his eyes again despite just waking up.

"Well you heard him ______, guess we should head then," Natsuo teased loudly. Touya's eyes widen at hearing this, sitting up on the bed as his eyes scanned the room, landing on you with a shocked expression.

"________?" he asked in disbelief that you were standing here in front of him. Fuyumi and Natsuo snicker hearing his heart monitor rapidly beat, causing Touya to throw up a middle finger their way before returning his focus on you. You stood awkwardly as he sat awkwardly, unsure what to do next.

"Let's give them some privacy, yeah?" Fuyumi grabs Shoto and Natsuo before heading out the room, closing the door behind her. The silence persists until you speak up.

"Is it okay if I sit?" you ask, pointing to a spot on the large hospital bed. The size of the bed and private room must be a perk that comes with the Number One Hero's money paying for your medical bills. He nods, shakey bandaged hands smoothing out the bedsheets before you take a seat with him. "So Dabi-"

"Touya," he cuts you off. "You can call me Touya. At this point Dabi is gone." He sounded so nervous as he spoke it made your heart ache.

"Okay," you respond. "So Touya," you giggle upon hearing his heart rate monitor speed up again after saying his name. You take a shakey deep breath, collecting your thoughts. There was so much you wanted to say to him. You wanted to yell at him for leaving you. You wanted to cry, thanking the heavens and earth he was still alive. You wanted to make him promise he'd never do this to you again. Yet every time you went to open your mouth, no words would leave. Touya took notice to the conflicting emotions on your face each time you went to speak, the heavy weight of guilt tugging at his heart.

"I-I'm so sorry....." his words were quiet and it sounded like he was about to cry. He doesn't expect you to forgive me. Hell, he wouldn't be surprised if you didn't love him anymore. His heart sank as he heard muffled sobs leaving your mouth. He couldn't look at you.

"Can we start over?" you smile as he finally meets your teary eyes. His bandaged hand reaches to cup your face, thumb rubbing away the tears that have fallen from your eyes. He felt didn't deserve another chance at life like this, but god he wanted it more than anything. This time it wasn't because of hatred or spite. No he wanted to live out of love. Out of love for his siblings. For his mother. For you. Especially for you.

"Yeah, I'd like that," his voice is shakey as he speaks. He feels insanely nervous as he asks his next question, as if it's the first time he's ever asked you this. "C-can I kiss you?"

"Please." You don't care how desperate you sound in your answer. You needed him to know how you've been longing for him all this time, how he hadn't left your thoughts once since the last night you saw him. He pulls you into a sweet, gentle kiss. His lips are more burnt than the last time you shared a kiss, but it doesn't matter. He still tastes the same. He's still the same man you love. And this time, neither of you were going to let the other get away.

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rafeysdeer · 2 days ago

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imperfect for you (aka insecure reader x comforting rafe)

kook!reader x rafe cameron

prompt: a party that was supposed to be relaxing and to clear the head goes terribly wrong, leaving a very anxious and insecure reader, good thing she has her very caring boyfriend who knows exactly how to take care of her.

a/n: okay, that's the first time i write for rafe, i really like obx and rafe, so i tried my best in here, but i didn't really like it, i think it's bcs it's my first time writing about him. english is not my first language, i hope you guys like it 💗

You weren't exactly excited about going to this party, but you knew your boyfriend was, and you didn't want to be a party pooper, and at least you'd be with him, nothing bad would happen if you gave up and went to a party, right?

Well, you were wrong, terribly wrong, even though you were a kook, you never exactly fit in, you never got the right friends, and even though you were pretty, guys just didn't seem to be interested in you.

That was until, Rafe Cameron laid eyes on you, in your little sundress, having a drink at the club, just looking for some peace, you looked almost ethereal in his eyes, and he just knew you were meant to be together, it took a while to convince you of that. You spent most of the talk thinking it was some bad joke, because there was no way, Rafe Cameron, the king of kooks, was there, talking to you, interested in you and not on your hot friend, or literally anyone else.

You two get along almost instantly, his charm had you wrapped around his finger, and you loved it.

It had been months since you two started dating, but you still didn't feel like you fit into his social circle. So when, the first moment he separated from you at the party, a girl purposely bumped into you, spilling her drink on your short dress and whispering 'Whore' in your ear, you were sure.

Rafe didn't get it why you suddenly looked so upset, but he wanted everything, but to see his girl upset, so when he suggested for you, that you two go home, you happily headed towards the truck.

"Sweetheart, you need to talk to me. What the hell happened that you suddenly look like a kicked puppy?" and it only took his playful words for you to burst into tears in the passenger seat, it wasn't just the girl or the stained dress, everything looked too much, and you looked so small, a girl being an bitch was all you needed to lose it.

Rafe immediately looked at you with his blue eyes filled with concern. "Hey, love, I was just kidding, you don't look like a kicked puppy, I swear." he says trying to understand what happened to make you break down.

You looked up at him, your pretty eyes shining with tears. "I just-, I don't feel like I fit in, Rafey, like i fit right in with you, but i'm just unwanted by everyone else," she says, her voice cracking with tears. "I tried to fit in, but I've been around these people my whole life, and they've never liked me, and now I feel like I'm holding you back, or making them look down at you"

Now, he looks like a kicked puppy as he looks at you with a worried expression. "Honey, you don't have to fit in, those people at the party, they don't like me either, they look at me like shit too and that's not your fault, not at all, you don't need to fit in with them because you think you have to because of me, the only person I need by my side, is you."

She blinks her bright eyes at him, as if the words had run away from her mind. The car stops in front of the house, and he gets out, opening the door for her, greeting her with a kiss before the words even come back to her. "I love you, no matter what any of those assholes think, because you're the one who's here for me, not them."

She looks at him, looking almost wonderstruck, a smile breaking across her face, wrapping her arms around his neck. "The only person I need is you, Rafe," she says, knowing that the feeling was mutual. "What do you say we go inside, put you in some comfy clothes, and watch Sex and the City?" She laughs at how well he knows her as they walk into the house, his hand around her waist.

"Sounds perfect."

#rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron thoughts #rafe cameron x you #rafe obx #drew starkey #outerbanks rafe #obx #outer banks

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zepskies · 3 days ago

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@lamentationsofalonelypotato

LOL jumping right back into the ocean of feels! 😬

I won't get my hopes up. I will be just as devastated now as when I find out that he is gone for good. 😭

Aww stay strong, my friend!! 💪🏽

Also I love that you said her mother refused to "entertain anything else" because Dean's job description is literally "anything else" lol. And it really is a wonderful thing (not wonderful like good but you know what I mean) that Dean and the reader can further connect on. Her knowing what Dean really did for a living and him being brave enough to risk his life on the possibility of "a chance."

Lol quite literally "anything else." 😆 Yeah the reader formed a connection with John through reading his journal entries, and now she can better understand Dean and connect with him too. 💞💞

I think Dean would've risked his life to gank the evil thing regardless, but definitely willing to do it for her, even if he finds her dad or not. 💔

It's too late for that kind of talk sexy mountain man. You're stuck with her and she is not going to let you go that easy.

LMAO this took me out. It's very much too late for that -- she's not letting him go for anything now. 😝

Am I trying to hide my emotions over Dean going into the wilderness alone to face a wendigo with humor? Yes, yes I am.

ehehehe 😜

It's a whole vibe 🍞 Side note: I did have to look up what nesting was in the A/B/O universe, but that is so cute. 😭

Ahaha I love GBBO so it got a special mention. (Also me going, how the hell is she gonna pass time for a full week? 😂)

Aww yes, nesting is so cute isn't it? Even if she had nested in Dean's room, compelled by her anxiety, I think it would've melted his surly heart loll.

Oh goodness, yes it was a bad idea and I am so happy that Dean showed up when he did, because my anxiety for this reader was THROUGH THE ROOF. I mean yes, go get your man, but gurl please it's snowing and you've got a broken ankle. At least catch a bear or something to pull you on a sleigh lol. 🤣

SUCH a bad idea loll. I had to have Dean intervene there. Exactly like, go get your man, but not on a broken ankle, hun. 🤣 "Catch a bear" -- I'm deceased. I think she's pretty much done with bears from now on! LOL 🐻

See this is why I don't get my hopes up because OH MY SWEET GOODNESS I'M CRYING 😭 But at least Dean is there now to wipe away her tears. AND my tears will soon be dried with the fires of their passion so... LOL 😂

bby we're all crying, but like you said, at least Dean's there to pick you up (and warm you up). 😏❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

See I feel better already 🥰

Oh good! lol that's what I was hoping for.~~

This is such a wonderful comparison to what it's like being around him for the reader. It holds the warmth and the feeling of home whenever you read it. I love it.

Honestly that description reminded me of the way you write the reader in Take a Chance, giving very human and specific details to her background and whenever she talked to Ben about her past -- so I'm very glad you enjoyed that part. 💕

And also you know how much I love the continuing idea of Dean thinking that he's not enough and that the reader would never like him. I know that I always point it out when I read something of yours, but it really always fits him and you write it so well my friend 💚

Aw thank you so much!! It seems I always come back to that in my Dean fics! I think subconsciously I'm trying to beat that mentality out of him with every story. 🤣 But also, I think his self-worth (or lack thereof) and his fear of being a danger to the people he loves are just key points of his character that you kind of have to deal with -- at least in the canon SPN world, whenever Dean gets close to being in a serious relationship with someone. 🥲❤️‍🩹

I also love this bit, because Dean reduces himself to physical wealth here rather than seeing all the wonderful qualities of himself that we all love being something that he can give the reader. It really makes their connection all the more loving and real, because the reader isn't asking for Dean to give her things or to be rich, she's just asking FOR Dean. And I think it will be a beautiful and wonderful thing when he realizes that.

In Dean's pov it's like, "I don't have a 'normal' house, I don't have a normal job, all I've got is my car and emotional baggage that I don't want to unload on someone else--especially someone outside of the Job." But she doesn't need him to have "normal" things. He literally saved her life and is meant to be hers. To her, the quality of who he is and the connection of being true mates is more important, and the rest they'll figure out together. 💞 Here's hoping Dean can realize that soon...

This chapter was so wonderful Alex! I loved every heart wrenching bit and I can't wait to read the next one my wonderful friend! ❤️

Aw thank you so much, my friend!! 🥰 I'm so happy that you're enjoying the mini rollercoaster of this story, and I truly hope you enjoy the grand finale too!! 💖💖

Against the Wind - Part 3

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x F. Omega!Reader

Summary: You wake up in a strange alpha’s cabin in the middle of a snowstorm, all with a busted ankle. He holds shadows in his eyes, even though his hands are gentle. There are iron shutters around his heart, even though he saved you. You might just save him in return.

AN: Merry Christmas! I'm dropping this chapter a day early for you guys. Now, here's the full story, and what Dean is going to do about it…

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: True Mates @jacklesversebingo

Song Inspo: “Against the Wind” by Bob Seger

Word Count: 3.8K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Angst, mentions of blood, hint of spice.~

Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 3: Nothing Left to Burn

“We should start heading back,” you say, looking up at the mid-afternoon sky. It was starting to dip toward the top of the trees in the distance. “It’s going to take a couple of hours to get back before nightfall.”

“Yep, it’s about that time.” Your dad groans as he starts to haul himself back to his feet, where you two had been taking a rest against a tree. “Jesus, I need a new pair of knees. Help your old man, would ya?”

You smirk as you help the middle-aged alpha to his feet. His joints pop and his back cracks as he stretches his arms high.

“Damn, Dad. You’re creakier than the trees,” you quip.

He tosses you a wry look. “Just you wait. In a few years, after wrangling a couple of pups, you’re gonna feel my pain.”

“A few years?” you laugh. “Did I miss the part where I actually met a decent guy, let alone one worth mating?”

“Oh, you’ll find him,” your dad nods, slinging his rifle back over his shoulder. “Or he’ll find you, like your mother did with me.”

You follow his lead with your own rifle, falling into step with him through the forest clearing. It’s a beautiful day in late November. Already you can see the edge of frost on the shrubs and half-barren trees. The ground is littered with dead leaves painted in browns, oranges, and dappled with reds.

“You met her in college. It’s not like you guys defied fate,” you say.

“Yeah, but if she hadn’t walked into my psychology class by mistake, and stolen my latte at the campus café, maybe you wouldn’t be here,” he teases.

You huff and roll your eyes. Yes, your parents are a walking cliché. And by far, your dad’s the bigger sap.

“I’m telling you. Sometimes, the universe does us a solid,” he says, reinforcing his point with a literal pointed finger your way. You push it away from your face in exasperation.

“You might wanna watch where you’re going,” you say, “before you roll your ankle on another pebble.”

“You kidding me?” he exclaims. “That thing was the size of my fist! You’re lucky I didn’t break an ankle. Make you carry me all the way back to the car.”

You snort. “Right. Think I’ll just leave you for the bears…”

You trail off when a sound reaches you and your father. The sound of leaves crunching in the underbrush, quick and light. Your father’s shoulders straighten with alertness, the alpha’s head cocking toward the sound.

“Maybe I spoke too soon about the bears,” you whisper. He shakes his head.

“Nah, too light. It’s probably an elk.” He tosses you a smile. “We’ll have one hell of a haul to bring home, plus a good story to tell your mom.”

Your mother, the vegan veterinarian?

“Yeah, because she loves elk meat.”

“Would you quit being a smartass for two minutes? You go a little west. I’ll see where it’s at,” he says.

He quietly wracks his rifle and steps away from the clearing, farther into the woods. You do what he says, veering west. You don’t see the elk, and soon enough, you don’t see your dad either. You do hear a whistling on the wind, and the cold of it cuts right through your coat.

Unease prickles down your spine, though you don’t know why.

“Dad?” you whisper-yell, trying not to spook whatever animal might be out there.

A gunshot rings out, along with your dad’s voice in a shout. Your eyes widen in alarm, and you call his name, taking off in a run to find him.

You end up rising over a hill you hadn’t crossed before, but you see your dad below; you recognize his bright blue puffer jacket that Mom got him for his birthday. You call his name, and he looks up at you with fear in his eyes.

Not for himself, but for you.

“Go, get out of here!” he shouts and waves you off.

“What? What is it?!” you yell.

He shakes his head, like he’s unable to answer your question. “Run! Run and don’t stop!”

He moves further into the denser trees until you can no longer make him out. With a frustrated huff, you sprint down the hill and try to follow his tracks with your gun at the ready. On the wind, in the distance, you still hear his voice.

Until it cuts off abruptly, along with the terrible cracking of bone.

You gasp and halt in your steps. What the fuck was that?

Tears fill your eyes and blur your vision. Despite what you heard, you realize just how very alone you are in the clearing. Fear and adrenaline make your breath tremulous and shallow, but you can’t just give up. You search for a while longer, making yourself hoarse calling out to your father.

No matter what direction you take, you never find him.

“I ran back to town to get the rangers,” you say, brushing a couple of stray tears from your cheeks. You sniff, licking your lips and swallowing a hard lump of emotion in your throat.

Dean continues to listen intently with his brows furrowed.

“It was too late,” you sigh. “He disappeared. They explained it away, thought a grizzly bear got him, but I know it wasn’t a damn bear.”

You shake your head as the tears come harder and faster, all over again. Dean’s jaw clenches in sympathy.

“No one believed me about what I heard, not even my mom,” you confess. Your mother had been too distraught to entertain “anything else.” No matter how strongly you’d felt about your suspicions, you understood that she just wanted to put your father’s death behind her after his funeral. Part of you had stopped believing yourself.

A stronger part of you hadn’t been able to let it go, however. So you had to come back here and try to find any trace of your father.

When you finally run out of words, you see the proverbial gears turning in Dean’s eyes.

“What’re you thinking?” you hazard to ask. You can’t help but reach out and grab at his wrist. “Do you…do you believe me?”

Dean’s gaze softens a fraction. He lays his larger hand over yours.

“Yeah, I do,” he says. “I’m willing to bet on what took him too.”

He squeezes your hand before he lets you go and gets up from his seat. He soon returns with his father’s journal in hand. He reclaims his spot across from you, sitting close to your thigh on the end of the chaise. His gaze falls away from your face to the journal in hand, and he flips it open to a page he knows from memory. You suck in a subtle breath to steel yourself when he turns it toward you—to the very page that had given you nightmares the first night you read it.

Wendigo.

“Nasty son of a bitch,” he says. “It hibernates for decades at a time, but when it surfaces, it knows how to get through long winters like this. It takes a handful of people at a time, feeding on its victims slow.”

You feel sick at that, but still, his words elicit a sliver of hope.

“So there’s a chance he could still be alive,” you say, in a brighter voice. Dean gives you a measured look, dragging a hand over his mouth.

“Look, I’m gonna be straight with you,” he says. “It’s been months, right?”

You nod, though you realize what he’s saying. Don’t get your hopes up.

“But there’s a chance,” you insist, with tears in your eyes. Dean holds your gaze for a moment, and he nods. He squeezes your knee this time, then shuts the journal with one hand as he moves to stand.

You follow him on your crutches over to the kitchen. He pulls out a drawer and retrieves a folded-up map. Tossing the journal on the kitchen counter, he opens up the map and lays it out flat next to the sink. It’s a map of the mountain, and the entire forest surrounding the mountain of Big Sky. Dean’s eyes flick up to yours.

“Where did it happen?”

Dean has packed up his supplies and put on his winter gear. You watch him from the living room sofa, trying to hide your unease. You know he’s doing this for you, but there’s part of you that doesn’t want to see him leave, for his own sake, and selfishly for yours.

“Try not to go outside again unless you absolutely friggin’ have to,” he warns. “And if you do, don’t go too far. Make sure you take a weapon, preferably a gun and a knife.”

“Dean, I know,” you reply. You get up and hover by the couch while he finishes lacing his snowshoes and hooks his backpack on. You’re unable to hide your concern.

“You shouldn’t be going out there alone,” you say.

Dean tosses you a grin. It has the shade of how he was with you before the “journal” incident—self-assured, a hint teasing.

“Don’t worry. This isn’t exactly my first solo mission,” he says, though his devil-may-care attitude soon subsides into something more serious. “If I’m not back inside a week, you need to ration out the supplies here as best you can. That new meat in the fridge should last you a while.”

By new meat, you have to assume he means the bear.

“When you’re healed up, you can make your way down the mountain and back to town with that map I left for you. Kitchen counter,” he says.

Your frown worsens. You step closer to him with the pretense of closing and locking the front door for him after he leaves.

“Dean,” you say, stopping him at the door. He turns to look at you over his shoulder. You hesitate, fidgeting slightly, but you gain your courage.

“If you don’t come back, I’m going to find you,” you warn him.

Dean frowns. He turns to you fully and tilts his head as if to say, come again?

“No, you’re not, Omega. You understand me?”

His terseness doesn’t scare you anymore. You glare up at him, quite literally standing your ground.

“You didn’t leave me out there when you didn’t even know me. You think I’d do that to you?” you counter.

At that, Dean has to pause, tilting his head slightly. He almost smiles at your stubbornness, and just like that, his annoyance dissipates. It softens him, making him reach for your arm in an assuring squeeze.

“I appreciate the thought, but trust me. I’d rather you look out for you,” he says.

Right now, you don’t really give a shit about what he’d rather, but you don’t say so. It’s written across your face anyway. Dean’s mouth tugs at a smile.

“All right, I’m out,” he says. “Save me some of Yogi in there.”

You huff, but you shut the door behind him after he steps out onto the porch, down the steps, and beyond. You move to the living room window and watch him get farther and farther away from the cabin.

Despite the crackling fireplace, you begin to feel cold inside.

After the first three days, you’ve managed to clean the entire cabin, top to bottom. With the “new meat,” you make a large batch of soup to last you throughout the week. You freeze a couple of servings for Dean.

For when he gets back.

You try to fill up your time in other ways, like attempting, and failing, and trying again more successfully to make bread from scratch. You haven’t binge-watched every season of The Great British Bake-Off for nothing.

Then you organize all of the alpha’s books by author. You wash all the laundry you can find and fold everything neatly on his bed, and you put away the couple of sweaters you’ve borrowed from him into your own dresser.

On Day Four, you create a nest of pillows and blankets in the middle of the living room floor. In your anxiety, it’s a reflex you can’t help. Your initial instinct was to nest in his room, but you thought that was too invasive of his privacy, so the living room was your next best option. At least his scent is still somewhat imbued into his favorite chair, and around his records. (You do steal another shirt of his to sleep with though.)

On Day 8, your worry becomes a living thing. You pace the living room and the kitchen on your crutches, probably wearing down the wooden ends of them while you debate what to do. Despite what Dean told you to do if he didn’t get back, you know you’re not just going to leave him out there. But the reality is, you have a problem of mobility.

With a frustrated huff, you decide to try setting your problem foot down normally. Your ankle hurts, a sharp pain shooting up your calf and nearly sending you to the floor.

“Fuck!” you gasp, both in shock and aggravation.

You know this isn’t just a sprain. At best it could be a fracture, since no bone is protruding under the skin. It still means you shouldn’t go after him either.

But you’ll have to try.

After you manage to clamber back onto your feet using the crutches, you put together some supplies, including the extra med kit in case he’s hurt. (Or in case something happens to you while you’re out there.) This is a bad idea, you think, even as you heave on your jacket.

Then, you hear the sound of a lock turning, before the front door shoves open.

A yelp of surprise escapes you, though you soon realize that it’s Dean, looking worn down and ragged, but alive.

“Home, sweet home,” he says wryly, but he looks relieved to see you too.

You help him sink down onto the chaise, where he stretches out with a groan. He tips his head back on the cushion. His jacket is torn in a few places. Blood has dried on his cheek, his neck, and near his hairline, and you worry about where else he might be hurt.

You quickly go to the kitchen and pour a bowl of warm water and grab a hand towel. You bring it all back to Dean, where you set your supplies on the floor and sit down beside him on the cushion.

“Are you okay?” You try to calm down your racing heart (and the nauseous feeling in your stomach) as you help him work open his jacket, followed by his shirt. Discreetly, your eyes take in the expanse of his tanned skin and pebbling nipples exposed to the cool air, even with the fire roaring nearby.

“Yeah, just peachy,” he says.

You smile a little. You take the towel, dampen it, and begin to clear the blood from his cheek, his neck, and the upper part of his torso—even his scuffed hands. Then you squeegee out the blood in the bowl and continue your task. Dean subtly watches you, his gaze a bit softer than usual.

He eventually looks you over with a frown as he takes in the way you’re dressed, and then the backpack by the door.

“What, about to go for a little afternoon stroll?” His sarcasm turns to annoyance. “Didn’t I tell you to stay put until you can actually walk?”

Your mouth flattens into a line, but any anger you might’ve felt is waylaid by your relief. It brings tears to your eyes.

“I thought something happened to you,” you say.

Dean hesitates. Your hand has stilled on his chest. He softens a little more, grasping your hand in his larger one.

“I’m fine,” he says. “The job’s done.”

Your eyes widen. “You found the…thing? The wendigo?”

His mouth pulls at a cocky grin, tempered only by his tiredness, and the way he’s looking at you. “Sure did. Tried to take a chunk outta my ass, but a little aerosol deodorant and a lighter’s all you need to barbecue that ugly son of a bitch.”

You smile in amusement, but all too soon, it fades.

“Did you find my dad?” you ask.

Dean’s expression sobers as well.

“Yeah, I think so.” His face gentles. “Was he wearing a blue puffer jacket?”

Your lips tremble. As that horrible realization dawns, you break down into tears. You already know from his tone that your father was dead when he found him.

Dean guides you down to him by your shoulder and wraps his arms around you. You bury your face into his neck, and your body shakes with quiet sobs.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your hair. “Believe me, I am.”

He holds you close, warm and secure. He allows you to stay there as long as you need, where you feel safe, even if this world has become a colder, darker place.

After a few minutes longer, your intense sobs begin to subside. You don’t mean to, but you turn your nose into Dean’s neck, scenting him on reflex. It calms you down, but it has the unintended effect of arousing him. The alpha rumbles in pleasure.

You blink in surprise and lean back enough to see his face. Dean’s lips press together as he looks down on you; he seems embarrassed, but you also see the heat reflected in his gaze, so intense in those forest greens. Your face begins to warm in a blush.

He brushes your cheek with his thumb, collecting your tears there. You glance down at his plush lips again, your own parting with a breath. His hand moves to cup your cheek, framing the side of your face. Please…

He finally drags you to him in a kiss.

It’s heady and passionate, and also comforting. Your fingers wind into his hair, your nails scraping along his scalp. He growls as his arm tightens around your waist. You shiver in delight.

You press a hand to the center of his chest, giving you leverage to rise up and slide your thigh over his legs. There you sink into his lap. Your breasts pillow against his chest when you lay on top of him, your elbows digging into the cushion on either side of his head. His hands move down your body, feeling down your sides, squeezing your hips, and then your ass. You hum into his mouth and roll your hips into his. Already you feel him hardening through his jeans.

But somehow he breaks away from your kiss, even though your hands are still in his hair.

“Sorry…we can’t do this,” he says, with difficulty.

He sits upright and nearly makes you fall over in the process. He grabs your arm before you tip over, but he keeps himself at arm’s length from you after you’re forced to slide off his lap, sitting on the end of the chaise instead. Your eyes glisten with hurt and confusion.

“Why?” is all you can ask.

He doesn’t want to answer.

“Dean?” you ask, inching towards him. He raises a hand to keep you at bay.

“Just…it’s not a good idea, okay?” he says, with the clenching of his jaw.

That cuts into you even more. Your heart pulses with pain.

“Do you know what your scent is to me?” you ask, in a voice slightly trembling. You glance at the fireplace that has dimmed to embers. “It’s better than that fire at full blaze. Every time I went camping with my dad, that’s what I loved the most. Sitting by that fire, talking, laughing, and for the millionth time, telling the story of when I gave my sister micro bangs in her sleep when I was ten.”

You wipe a stray tear from your eye, but you respect the distance he’s put between you two.

“The second I met you, I knew what this was,” you say. “I think you know it too.”

Dean shakes his head. His face betrays his wariness, his desire, and his obstinance.

“Look…even if that’s true, you don’t want this with me,” he says. His handsome face becomes marred by a frown, his brows knitting together. “I don’t even own this place. Besides my car, I ain’t got much of anything to give.”

You shake your head in dismay. “I know that’s not true.”

“I’m not bullshitting,” he says. “Listen…I’ve never had much. And what I did have, I found a way to lose. I’ve let my people down. Just about everyone I’ve ever…”

You can’t help but reach out a hand for him, your heart hurting, but he leans away, pressing himself back against the seat. It cuts even deeper into you; now though, you wonder if it’s because he feels the same gut feeling you do when he’s this close—close enough to touch, but almost afraid of the burn.

“They’ve been hurt, almost always because of me.” His voice shakes imperceptibly, with a wry, humorless turn of his lips. “So take it from me, sweetheart. You’ll wanna steer clear.”

“Dean,” you say. You expel a breath, digesting his words, while thinking of what you want to say.

“I’ve never not felt safe with you,” you confess. “Even when I screwed up and drove you crazy, I’m sure, I knew you’d never hurt me. The same way I know…”

You reach out a tentative hand to lay in the center of his chest, over his heart. Your thumb brushes the edge of his strange tattoo, over the dark ink in his skin.

“You’re my mate. My one, true mate in this world,” you say, meeting his eyes. “And I want to know you.”

You see inner conflict in the depths of Dean’s eyes, dark green and troubled. You take a chance and lean in, brushing your cheek against his, nuzzling, laying a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Omega,” he warns, but the grit in his voice has little heat.

Or at least, it’s heat of a different kind, as his strong hands once again find your waist. They hold you still, but also hold you to him. Your gentle affection is making him ache, deep in the shadowy cavern of his chest. He’d never admit it, but loneliness had set in there, burrowed deep with a stronghold on his heart. Without knowing, you’ve been carving it out with those gentle hands.

You now slide your hands up his chest and over his shoulders, warm palms on his skin.

“Alpha, I want to know you,” you insist. Quiet, but steady, your voice is a mere brush of words near his ear, against his cheek. “Please.”

Dean’s brows furrow as he briefly shuts his eyes tight. With your whispered plea, the brittle chain of his restraint finally snaps free.

He cradles the back of your head and guides you back into a feverish kiss.

AN: Sorry to cut it off there lol, but the big (steamy) finale is coming up next week! Perhaps a little earlier than Friday. 😘

Next Time:

“Were you nesting, Omega?” he teases, between the sinful meetings of his lips with yours. You hum your affirmation before his tongue swipes across your lower lip, seeking entrance.

You open yourself to him in more ways than one; you slip your hands across his naked shoulders and explore the smooth planes of muscle, the dips and softness in between. You encourage him to lower down, to cover you with the length and broadness of his frame. His weight is a welcome one between your thighs and against the softness of your body.

“Was worried about you,” you whisper a confession against his lips. Dean briefly pauses, meeting your eyes.

“Thanks for waiting up,” he says, with a hint of a smile.

Your lips curve upwards in return.

▶️ Keep reading: Part 4 (Finale!)

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imujings · 2 days ago

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hoshi + work song by hozier? :)

when i was kissing on my baby and she put her love down soft and sweet in the low lamp light i was free

wc <1k. warnings FLUFF!!!, suggestive (they make out at the end. sorry. i’m normal), lots of kissing, hella praise (someone needs to tell soonyoung he’s doing good RIGHT NOW!!). jay’s musings i am so weak for soft sy + this song makes me go ABSOLUTELY FERAL .°(ಗдಗ。)°. you are so right anon. speak ur truth

The lighting in the room is dim, cozy. It’s well into the morning, sunlight streaming faintly through the curtained windows and finding home atop your bedsheets.

You press a long, soft kiss to Soonyoung’s bare shoulder. He’s been murmuring in his sleep for quite awhile now, shifting around like he’s trying to escape some paranormal entity unbeknownst to you. Your fingers inch under the covers and find his.

“Love,” you hum into his skin.

The man shivers at your touch, jolting awake with a gasp. His hair sticks up in all kinds of directions, unkempt from sleep, and you smooth a hand through it. Soonyoung leans into your fingers with an achingly gentle sigh.

“Nightmare again?” you tilt your head in a question.

He nods, eyes fluttering shut when you run a thumb across his cheek. You trace the knot in his eyebrows with your gaze, all the way down to the slope of his collarbone, exposed and vulnerable.

“I can’t remember much of it now,” Soonyoung confesses. “But it felt like I had this big weight on my shoulders—metaphorically, that is. There was so much guilt it was overwhelming. Like I couldn’t breathe, almost. I was in front of you, and you were looking at me, waiting for me to speak, and… I remember feeling terrified. Of what you would think of me if I told you about what I did.”

While you’re listening, your thumb on his cheek never pauses in its soft, methodical swipes along his skin. The barren sunlight leaves him dappled in a honeying glow.

Your heartbeat pounds loud in your ears, your mind taking action to bring his attention to just how much you yearn for him through a steady rhythm of love—if for nothing else but to soothe his worries.

To reiterate your thoughts, you pull him in, letting your arms lay loose around his neck. Your foreheads rest against the other’s.

“Soonyoung,” you whisper, lips brushing his.

His eyes flicker between your soft, melting gaze and the way your mouth curls to enunciate his name. His own lips are parted, waiting, and you’re eager to give, dipping in to steal a kiss.

“You could never,” you kiss him again and he chases your lips. “Never, ever ever, even try to get me to hate you.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” Soonyoung says brokenly. “How could you say that?”

Another kiss—one that’s unhurried, searing with want. Your lips travel to the corner of his mouth and down to his jawline. He whimpers at your nibbling.

“You act as if we are made to be perfect,” is your hushed reply, pressing an open-mouth kiss to underside of his jaw. “You’re talking as if being loved and being perfect are synonyms. As if they mean the same thing.”

“In reality, they simply coexist together. Their relationship is more of a simultaneous thing; you are loved, and at the same time, you are perfect just the way you are. Did you know, I love you? I love you, in your entirety—all your sins, all your fears. I love you because they make you, you. Your hatred, your pain, your burdens—are they not just feelings that coexist with the love inside of you? I love you because you are whole and filled with emotions. I love you because you are love.”

There’s a pause, and you draw your face back up to his level again. Soonyoung is staring at you, eyes glassy and lips wobbling.

You’re wondering if you’ve gone too far with your nonsensical ramblings when he kisses you, and all air is knocked out of your lungs.

“Thank you,” he sobs, and you taste the saltiness of his tears as his lips press against yours, frantic, needy.

His hands are in a frenzy, gripping your bare skin like you’ll disappear at any moment. You whine at his touch, passion overtaking you as your fingers wrap themselves in his locks of hair. The man moans when you tug, and the noise sounds so melodic it has you tearing up yourself.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Soonyoung murmurs; you can’t tell what tears belong to who anymore, but you don’t think it matters when you’re this tangled up in each other.

“You are love, too. My love. You are my freedom—my life, my eternity. Thank you.”

wanna queue a song?

#seventeen #seventeen x reader #kwon soonyoung x reader #hoshi x reader #kwon soonyoung #hoshi #kwon soonyoung fluff #kwon soonyoung imagines #kwon soonyoung x you #hoshi fluff #hoshi imagines #hoshi x you #seventeen x you #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #🎶 artist discography #📻 ep — pass the aux!

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lacyscabinet · 1 day ago

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reader and ellie williams dating and reader meeting joel for the first time

A/N: HELLO THERE! This is not my best work but stilllllll I wanted to post something, not proofread<3 I'm a little late sorry😞 this was supposed to come out yesterday but I fell asleep on my desk and forgot to press post😭😭😭🙏🏼🙏🏼 begging on my knees for forgiveness, I hope you enjoy<3

NAVIGATION

VERY SHORT. MORE LIKE A BLURB.

TW: DAD JOKES.

MEETING JOEL

Joel. It's just Joel. Ellie talked about him so much it's almost like you know him already, come on, how hard could it possibly-

"Are you okay?" Ellie asks, placing a hand on your shoulder while simultaneously cleaning it from the snow that had settled on your jacket as you two stood outside the porch. It's not like she wasn't at least a little nervous as well, she really wanted her two worlds to blend, and she wasn't completely sure about what Joel's reaction would be, after all, she has never brought someone like you around him before.

"Yes..." You look up at her and smile gently, trying to be brave about this "All good, should we...knock?"

Ellie nods as she keeps her arm around your waist as she walks up the porch, then her bruised and cold knuckles bump against the worn down wooden door, patiently waiting for someone to open it.

Soon enough, a bearded man cracked the door open, a smile plastered on his face as he welcomed you guys into his home. The house was warm, a record muffled by the sound of the crackling fireplace played on his old record player, the dinner table was all ready to sit down and eat whatever he had cooked, and considering the warm scent that floated through the house, it must've been something tasty. He hugs Ellie once he closes the door, and then turns back to you.

"Finally putting a face to the name!" He says, his voice doesn't sound judgmental at all and he introduces himself right after, extending his hand to shake yours.

All throughout, you can feel Ellie's eyes on you, she's probably smiling, watching you two interact and praying that everything will go the right way. Ellie knows he’s been through enough with the world falling apart, and letting someone new into his circle isn’t easy, but so far, everything was going amazingly.

Just as predicted, dinner was amazing: Ellie sat right next to you while Joel stood in front of you, asking questions about you, about your relationship with Ellie. She subtly checks in with you, just a glance, or a quick touch of your hand to reassure you that she’s there. Her thumb runs over your knuckles, soft and comforting, as if to say: “I’ve got this.” You’re still a little nervous meeting Joel, but the feeling of Ellie beside you is grounding, and he has been nothing but kid with you so far. Everything was flowing seamlessly, until...

"Hey girls, listen" he said all of a sudden as he stabbed a carrot with his fork. Ellie looked up at him curiously, her hand resting on your thigh under the table.

"Do you guys want to know my favorite animal?"

Both you and Ellie looked at each other, extremely confused. Lightly chuckling at your reaction, he continued "Before the outbreak, I remember really liking axolotls..."

At that, your and Ellie's confusion only grew wider, while on the other hand, he started grinning, and that's when Ellie realized.

A dad joke was on the way.

"I used to really like them because they were quiet animals, they didn't axolotl questions"

A moment of silence followed as you took in the joke, bursting out laughing a few seconds later, not really because the joke was funny, but more because of the proud smile on his face and Ellie's maroon flushed face.

“You’re gonna scare her off if you keep making jokes like that.” she mumbled as her hands came up to hide her face.

Maybe, in the end, this wasn't as intimidating as it seemed...

Tags!! @livvietalks (another person asked me to be tagged but for some reason it doesn't work 😭) + @autisticintr0vert :)!!! thank u for the support pookies! In case I post something else tonight I'll tag u over there too!!

I've never thought about starting a taglist but if anyone is interested let me know in the comment section! I also write for yellowjackets and (soon!! trust!!!) for arcane 🤍

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller #the last of us #tlou2 #tlou 2 #tlou #jackson ellie

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blushsturns · 22 hours ago

Text

perv!matt x innocent!reader ♡

pt.6 ❤︎ deal

w/c: 2228

❤︎ part 5 is here

❤︎ read all about our faves here

it’s been a week since you’ve gotten the sex toys at the sex shop with matt. chris and nick were teasing you and matt the whole way home and matt was completely and utterly aggravated with the both of them. it was chris’ idea to go to the sex shop and yet chris was the one being the most obnoxious about it all. they didn’t see what you two bought, but once they saw you both at the register, they started to make teasing comments like how matt finally decided to grow some balls. you could tell it was really pissing matt off and you told them both to knock it off, but they were still being obnoxious.

while in the car on the way back from the shop, he apologized to you in the backseat. all you could do was squeeze his thigh and shake your head, flashing him a small reassuring smile. “you don’t have to apologize for anything.”

since then, matt has been quiet. you haven’t heard from him. you texted nick asking if matt was okay but all nick said was that matt was grumpy and wasn’t talking to anyone. it wasn’t like matt to be completely quiet like this. you visibly seen him get frustrated when his brothers were teasing him, but you assumed that was just what siblings do to each other.

“you’re the only one who can get through to him at this point.” nick said to you on the phone while you were painting your nails. you called him when you finally had enough and wanted to know what was going on. it wasn’t like matt not to return your texts or calls.

“i tried to talk to him, he won’t answer me. you guys have really got to knock it off with the whole teasing him thing. i know you’re his brothers, but we were all in a place we never been before. even i was unsure what the hell to do or look for.”

you heard nick sigh at the other end. nick was always such a good person to talk to and always gave the best advice and had a great listening ear. he was someone you felt completely comfortable around. that was just the aura of his personality. “i can apologize to him, but we were just messing around.” he paused for a moment before speaking again. “what did you guys buy anyway? matt was as red as a fucking tomato and when we got home he ran to his room and locked the door.”

you felt your face flush when he asked you what you two bought. matt must’ve been really embarrassed given he’s never been to a place like that before. how would he even begin to explain to his own brothers that you bought his toy and he bought yours? you shook your head to try and erase the memory (for now) and decided to laugh it off. “nick, focus! that’s not important. apologize to your damn brother and get chris to as well. give the poor guy a break, okay?”

“fine, but this weekend i am picking out where we go to hang out because chris was completely out of pocket for that one.”

you let out a soft laugh at his comment before saying your goodbyes and hanging up the phone. a soft sigh emits from your lips when you finish painting your nails and then allowing them to dry. they were a pretty pale pink that matched your pajama set. you went to the bathroom to brush your teeth and do your nighttime skincare routine before making your way back into your bedroom.

with a soft sigh emitting from your lips, you open up your curtains and your eyes widened as you see matt’s figure come into view. he was sitting on the windowsill, his fingers running throughout his tousled hair. his attention was solely focused on his phone in his hands. you pressed your hand against the windowsill, your heart feeling like its aching just from the looks of him. he looked pretty stressed. you knew matt long enough to know when he wasn’t okay and you had to admit, not talking to him for a week was starting to mess with you. you missed him, even if you didn’t want to admit that to yourself.

you wondered if he was okay. if his brothers actually apologized like you asked them to. if he’s been busy and trying to take his mind off of what happened between the two of you the last month, or if it’s all he’s been able to think about. you had to admit, it’s all you’ve been able to think about. you thought about the obsession matt had over you. was it healthy? did he love you, or was it all infatuation? did you feel the same way?

matt seemed to have consumed your brain in ways that you weren’t sure were even possible. you wondered what his lips tasted like, what his body would feel like against yours. he already has had a taste of you, would you ever want to return the favor?

all of these thoughts had your head spinning and you didn’t even realize that matt had your full attention now. he looked up at you through the window, his lips curving up into a small smile. you could visibly see him from the fluorescent light of his lamp that was sitting on his desk. he lifted his hand in his wave and you instantly lifted your hand back to wave at him, relief rushing through you. he seemed okay, but you were still puzzled as to why he’s been so silent.

you knew how embarrassed matt got easily. he instantly got so flustered all the time especially if someone else was poking fun at him for something. he knew how to stand up for himself, but sometimes he really did let it get to him. you cared for matt deeply and wanted him to be happy. you didn’t like knowing he was upset or going through anything and you wanted him to know that he could talk to you about it.

all of a sudden, matt disappeared from your sight and you felt disappointment rush through you. you weren’t sure what to make of what happened. he seemed to be in good spirits, and even waved at you, but you two still haven’t talked. you took in a deep breath, closed your curtain and walked over to your bed to get underneath your covers. you turned your lamp off on your nightstand and grabbed your phone to do your nightly doom scrolling.

you’ve checked almost every single app you had on your phone before you started to get burnt out looking at your phone. just as you were about to put it down, an incoming call from matt appeared on your screen. your eyes furrowed in confusion as to why he would be calling you this late, but you didn’t give it another thought considering you hadn’t heard from him. “hello?”

“hi.” he spoke breathlessly. you heard some rustling around on the other end before it eventually got quiet. “sorry i disappeared from the window. both of my brothers came to my room to apologize actually.”

you nodded your head as you pressed your lips together in a firm line, seemingly impressed by nick and the fact that he actually listened to you. “as they should’ve from the start. how did that go?”

“well they apologized. chris didn’t seem as apologetic, but nick did. they were curious as to what we, uh bought that day, but i wouldn’t tell them.” you didn’t have to visibly see him to know that he was blushing from the way he stammered on his words, obviously remembering that day and what they had purchased together.

a soft chuckle leaves your own lips as you rest your head comfortably against the pillow. “well good, it’s none of their business. have you been okay though? i haven’t heard from you.”

a long sigh was heard from the opposite end of the call. “yeah, i’m sorry about that. i just got so damn embarrassed. i mean chris was the one who brought up going in the first place and yet he was doing the worst of it all. i just didn’t want to make a fool out of myself and look totally inexperienced in front of you, i guess.” you could tell he was obviously still blushing, probably laying on his bed to mirror exactly what you were doing at that very moment.

“don’t worry about me. that shit doesn’t bother me. chris is an absolute idiot.” another laugh leaves your lips and you could hear his laugh on the other end too which made you feel a little better. “they just like to mess around too much, you know that. you didn’t have to ignore everyone for a week though, matt.” you spoke this with sadness filling your tone. you wondered if there was something else going on, or if he was genuinely just embarrassed with the way his brothers were behaving. it wasn’t the first time they were out of control, but maybe it was because he was completely out of his element in a sex shop that he probably never would’ve gone to on his own.

you heard him sigh once again, sadness filling his voice. “i know, i’m sorry. i just was really embarrassed and didn’t know how to recover from that. last thing i’d want is for you to think differently of me because of how, uh, inexperienced i am.”

you almost wanted to reach through the phone and hug him, but you knew you couldn’t do that. it wasn’t like you didn’t know that matt was inexperienced, it was just fairly obvious. matt has had a couple girlfriends in the past, but they were always really short lived and he never seemed serious about them. he never talked about his relationships or feelings in general around you and that was just the dynamic of your relationship with him.

you’d never judge him or think differently of him because of him not being as experienced or fully confident. you already knew he got flustered really easily, it was just part of who he was. in all honestly, you thought it was adorable and kind of attractive.

it excited you to know that he had some kind of obsession over you. it never once freaked you out. it made you intrigued because nobody else has ever been like this with you before. you were glad it was matt. someone you knew for awhile and felt completely comfortable with. you don’t know where this would lead and how you truly felt, but you didn’t want to lose him and you didn’t want matt to feel any less of a man because of how embarrassed he gets.

you realized you were quiet for a bit and didn’t mean to be, but you got lost in your thoughts. “you don’t have to apologize, matt. i mean it.” you said with complete and utter sincerity in your voice. “i don’t think differently of you at all. that doesn’t bother me at all. if anything, it honestly excites me a little.” you bit onto your bottom lip after you speak, even though you knew he obviously couldn’t see you.

“wait, really?” he said abruptly, surprise filling his tone. “it excites you that i’m uh, not experienced that much?”

a soft giggle emits from your lips at his reaction, resting your free hand on your stomach. “yeah, it does. although, you did seem to know what you were doing that one time in my kitchen.” immediately when you brought it up you felt your cheeks grow warm. thank goodness he couldn’t see you so he wouldn’t be able to see the kind of effect he had on you.

“oh yeah.” he said immediately, a laugh leaving his lips as well. “i’ve never done anything prior to that, but i’ve seen some things and i’d do it again, and again, and again. i mean that. sometimes it’s all i can think about.”

his voice seemed to get quieter and you wondered if maybe he had to be quiet in case nick and chris were around to listen. you felt your heart begin to beat rapidly in your chest at his words as you bite down a little harder onto your bottom lip. “really?” you asked him with surprise filling your tone. “me too.” now your voice was quiet, although it was just you and no one around you had to worry about that could hear you. “i really enjoyed that.”

“i had an idea.” he said immediately, a bit more confidence filling his voice.

this piqued your interest, your fingers playing with string on your shorts. “what is it?”

you could hear him take in a deep breath to gather himself. before you had any chance to think about what he possibly could say, he began to speak.

“how about i make it up to you for not talking for a week? tomorrow night, you and me. i’ll be in charge of that toy i got you. deal?”

you took in a deep breath, the adrenaline running throughout your body, your core suddenly beginning to throb with excitement.

“deal.”

taglist:

@sturnshood @strangelife122 @jessie-essie @giveheavensomehell @rina3476 @chrissturnioloslvt @sturnslutz @sturns-mermaid @matthewsturnsgf @christmastreecake @rinahasspots @222wall876 @chris-hallelujah @izzylovesmatt @strniloslvts @oopsiedaisydeer @sophand4n4 @sturniololuv08 @xclusivedesires @mattsplaything @katiebug3851 @fetusjikook @poppingmypussy4chris @mattsbunnyxx @pair-of-pantaloons @chrissweetheart @slutformatt17 @sturnl0ve @pasteldreams @h3arts4harry @marrykisskilled @wh0remikasas @sturnzslut @camzeecorner @alesturniolos @emely9274 @2muchofaslvt @y3sterdaysproblem @sturnslux3 @bowsandsturniolos

a/n:

thank you so much for loving this au and keeping up with it! this part was kind of like a filler, but it’s very important to the story. i have tons of ideas so bare with me. i’m excited for what’s to come next.

if you wanna be added to my taglist, click here!

also if you wanna talk to me about perv!matt x innocent!reader, send me a message or hit up my inbox! :)

i’m also taking requests too!

love you guys!

-nessa ღ

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diamond-reads · 22 hours ago

Text

KAE YLANGELEGY WHEN I FIND YOU.......

but also. thank you. i got the notification for this while i was having a really really shitty day at work, and knowing that i had your writing to come home to made really was a light at the end of the tunnel. and so i must annotate this fic bc it makes me HAPPY and YOU make me happy:

Click.

tara diamonddaze01 #1 lover of onomatopoeia is HERE and i am already in love. the things i would do to freeze every moment spent with jeonghan.... print them and frame them and reminisce about memories.....anyways i digress its literally the FIRST WORD when will i learn how to RELAX

Your phone at eye-level; its camera, trained on him. There you are.

your camera is trained on him, but jeonghan is trained on you. a beautiful metaphor for how, in your world, he’s the subject of every picture—every thought, every moment. But in his, you’re the only thing in focus. and THEN the "there you are." really hits home - he sees you. i love the idea that the real you begins where the camera ends

This is how he knows he loves you: Your laughter always felt like a small victory. Even before, he’d crack jokes in staff meetings and his eyes would immediately go to gauge your reaction.

say it with me: i LOVE love. and i LOVE this assertion that jeonghan doesn't want your laughter to feel like he's funny (he knows he's funny) but he wants it to feel like he's yours. i love the idea that he collects these victories, these pieces of you like a hoarder. it's subtle, this love - the kind that sneaks up on you in fluorescent-lit rooms and powerpoints presentations; the kind that falls in love with the way your eyes crinkle when he tries to make you smile.

I love you, Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan!

I love this line, I love the heartfelt emotions that just...sneak up on you. the declarations of love that are sudden, that catch you off guard and make you laugh.

siderbar: oh ur so evil for the beautiful soul mention...... but the lyrics "I don’t want another pretty face / I don’t want just anyone to hold" play so BEAUTIFULLY off the line about laughter being a small victory. jeonghan treasures your laughter - something as intangible and as unique as your soul; jeonghan doesn't try to impress, but the small victories are a connection to you, and you laughter is vulnerable, real, and uniquely yours

i could wax poetic about song lyrics and your writing forever but anyways i digress...

At the twenty-minute mark, Jeonghan finally huffs, “I’m ignoring you.” “Hm?” you say distractedly, and he resist the urge to chuck your phone into the nearby lake. “I said,” he repeats. “I’m ignoring you.” You glance up at him, unamused. “You are literally talking to me,” you note. “Well, I was ignoring you before that.” “Were you?” “Yes. You didn’t notice, so I thought I’d inform you.”

kae you write your characters with so much love - jeonghan is so fucking ENDEARING i want to put him in my pocket. oh yoon "must-have-the-last-word" jeonghan how i adore you so

Jeonghan is supposed to be sulking, but that small word— we— has him fighting down a smile. It’s his account, his digital footprint, but you’re the mastermind. You’re the one behind the man, the myth, the legend.

i'm so :((( no one TOUCH ME. his reaction is so.... on the surface, jeonghan is the charismatic, untouchable legend, but beneath it all, you’re the one grounding him, supporting him, making sure the myth doesn’t outshine the man. you’re the quiet, steady presence behind the scenes, and jeonghan loves you for it in ways he probably doesn’t even know how to express fully.... i want to kiss him....

“Get some photos of your actual boyfriend,” he grumbles.

sulky pouty BABY come HERE let me KISS IT BETTER!

siderbar: i had never listened to zild before this but oh my god i love this song. my fav lyric so far: "Gagawa ako ng kanta, / Na ikaw ang pamagat" ("I will make a song/With you as the title"). I feel like this mirrors the line "It’s his account, his digital footprint, but you’re the mastermind." - you are the one behind his image. your presence in jeonghan's life makes him who his is; he may be the “legend” in public, but in private, you’re the one crafting the story behind the scenes. this is mirrored so well in Lia by the sentiment of putting someone at the forefront of a creation. oh to love someone to the point of creation....

He didn’t want a civil breakup. He’d much rather go out kicking and screaming than have something amicable.

oh jeonghan.... here comes my character analysis because kae writes like honey and i am drawn in like a fly:

idk i feel like this jeonghan just thrives on intensity and raw emotion - the imagery of a breakup being "civil" feels so foreign to him because he’s the type who prefers things to be messy, uncontained, and loud. he doesn’t want the quiet closure; he wants something that feels like it mattered, something that leaves a mark. there’s this craving for validation, to feel like the end of something—whether it’s a relationship, a chapter, or a part of himself—needs to be remembered. If it’s civil, then was it even real? Was it even worth the effort?

re: “kicking and screaming” - he wants passion, he wants fight, he wants to know that you two struggled for it. it's like this deep-rooted need to avoid anything that feels too easy, too comfortable. he’s the type to throw himself into the storm of emotions, to feel the thunder roll through his chest, even if it means suffering. because in the suffering, there’s proof of how much it all meant. A quiet goodbye just wouldn’t feel earned for someone like this. he wants to be remembered

if i got this wrong kae pls ignore me. LMAO. ONWARDS!

Jeonghan tugs at your hand and shakes his head. Focus on me, he’s wordlessly saying, and for once, you do.

what a beautiful line - for someone who has spent the entire relationship looking over her shoulder, making sure no one is watching, it speaks volumes to finally lay it all to rest, to see him, to just be.

You squeeze Jeonghan’s hand reassuringly. “I’m not throwing anything away. I’m just compromising.” “I don’t want you to have to compromise anything for me.” “Compromise is part of a grownup relationship, Hannie. It’s a good compromise.”

[sobbing violently] something something to be loved is to be changed...something something to love is to compromise...something something to love is to make space for growth.... no one look at me ever again.

sidebar: oh my GOD tum se hi mention you want me DEAD okay!!!!! one of my favorite lyrics from the song are "Main tera sarmaya hoon" which literally translates to "i have become your property" but stylistically it means "I am because of you". something about that line + this jeonghan makes my heart break in ways i didn't know was even humanly possible. there's this the profound sense of belonging and dependence that the lyric evokes. it’s about becoming something through the other person, because of them—there’s this raw vulnerability in it that makes my chest aches. Jeonghan knows he is because of you, he's so intertwined with you in a way that makes him feel whole.

When he goes to kiss you, it bears none of the threatening front that he’s trying to put up. It’s a slow, sweet thing. A glimmer lighting up his cotton sheets. He only pulls away when he can no longer physically manage to keep kissing you. There’s the beginning of a grin on his face as his breaths come out in short pants, as his eyes stay closed. He’s savoring the moment, trying to remind himself how damn lucky he is even if the cost involves running his own SNS accounts henceforth. But then you’re laughing, your fingers threading through his hair. You tug Jeonghan back down despite the fact that you’re just as breathless, and his lips curl into a full-on smile when they meet yours.

I apologize i have nothing intelligent to say here. my brain is broken and i am in tears because DEAR GOD i am in love with this man!!!!!!!!!

tldr; kae you have, and i kid you not, my whole entire heart. every character you write is like a thread of gold, and you weave together tapestries of love and life that make me feel. you stitch warmth and light into the fabric of the worlds you create, and when you step back to look at it, there’s this masterpiece that’s almost too beautiful to touch—but you do, and it feels like it was always meant to be held. The way you turn even the smallest, quietest moments into something that glows is like witnessing magic in motion—everything you touch turns to gold, and I feel lucky that i am allowed to feel its glow.

so disconnected 📵 jeonghan x reader.

if jeonghan's 'boyfriend material' posts are on point, well— you can thank his girlfriend.

★ jeonghan x social media manager!reader. ★ word count: 2.6k ★ genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff!!!, txt's soobin is mentioned, down bad!jeonghan, jealous!jeonghan. some smau elements. not proofread; we go out swinging, baby. ★ footnotes: "kae if i wake up to a single shred of jeonghan on ur page..." ¡sorpresa, @diamonddaze01! no further notes, your honor.

🎧 now playing: disconnected by 5 seconds of summer — i admit i'm a bit of a fool for playing by the rules, but i've found my sweet escape when i'm alone with you.

Click.

Jeonghan hasn’t even looked up and yet he already knows what he’ll find when he does. Sure enough, when he shifts his weight onto his other foot and glances away from the TikTok he’d been watching— there you are.

He wishes he could see your beautiful face. Alas, it’s obstructed by the sight that he’s grown used to associating with you.

Your phone at eye-level; its camera, trained on him.

“Yah.” His high-pitched bid to feign annoyance is a futile one. Everybody knows that Jeonghan could never be truly irked by you, no matter how masterfully you pushed his buttons sometimes.

After clicking away for a couple more minutes, you finally lower your phone.

There you are.

Jeonghan swears he’s not a sap, not what those people call ‘simps’. But something about your smile always makes him a little weak in the knees, makes him want to be The Best Boyfriend In The World, bar none.

He gestures for you to come closer. Once you’re within reach, Jeonghan is already wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in.

“Don’t do that,” you snipe as he brings you into his chest. “We’re in public!”

Jeonghan can’t hide the way his eyes roll. “I don’t care. This isn’t public. It’s the parking lot of your apartment building,” he says dryly.

“Still public.”

“Still don’t care.”

You go to shove at Jeonghan’s chest. He responds by tightening his hold on you, a sound of protest rising from the back of his throat.

“C’mon, just a minute.” He buries his face in the top of your head, breathing in the soothing scent of your shampoo. It makes something in his chest flutter. “I’ll let you go, just— give me a minute, sweetheart.”

He can sense that your acquiescence is begrudging, but he takes it nonetheless. A win is a win, he thinks smugly as he takes the opportunity to hug you a little tighter.

It’s been three months since you finally agreed to try dating Jeonghan, though you had insisted that it be kept on the down low. Something about decorum, discretion. Workplace violations? Jeonghan doesn’t really remember; he had been a little too excited at the prospect of finally being yours that he wouldn’t have minded any condition in the world.

The past weeks have unironically been some of the best in Jeonghan’s life, though there were probably some things he could do without.

“It’s my day off, you know,” he mumbles into your hair, “which means it should also be your day off.”

You giggle, and the force of it has your shoulders slightly shaking against Jeonghan’s chest.

This is how he knows he loves you: Your laughter always felt like a small victory. Even before, he’d crack jokes in staff meetings and his eyes would immediately go to gauge your reaction.

He liked making you laugh. He liked being the reason behind your smiles. And, God, did he like you.

“Let me think about it.” There’s a hint of teasing in your voice, followed by a little ‘hmmm’ of faux thoughtfulness.

He’s about to bite back at you when he feels your hand at his hip, somewhat leaning into his embrace, and he instead channels his energy into holding back a dreamy sigh. You go on, “No, I don’t think so. Go pose by the wall for another picture.”

Jeonghan leans back a bit, just enough so that you can see his furrowed eyebrows as he whines, “But I’m Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan!”

The title is a new one. Five days recent, in fact, and Jeonghan is hoping it will cut him some slack.

“Okay, Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan,” you say without missing a beat. “Go pose by the wall.”

Jeonghan peels himself away from you with a grumble. He knows he’s acting a bit like an overgrown child— stomping as he walks, pouting when he leans— but he trusts that you’ll find it endearing.

You pull out your phone’s camera app. Jeonghan is ready to frown the entire way through, maybe sass you that you only told him to pose by the wall but you didn’t say how he should look.

But then, instead of “One, two, three…”, you call out something else entirely.

“I love you, Daesang winner Yoon Jeonghan!”

He can’t help it.

He laughs, and you click away.

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ Jesse McCartney - Beautiful Soul

jeonghaniyoo_n hang up the telephone and just be here with me Liked by pledis_boos, vernonline, and 1,932,049 others View all 2,109 comments

One pro of dating your social media manager, Jeonghan would argue, is all the ‘vacations’ that the two of you can go on. You’re there for every tour stop, every concert, and Jeonghan absolutely revels in the hour or two he can steal away with you.

If only he could get you to stop working.

He knows that you’re technically on the clock more often than not. Managing an idol’s social media presence was no small feat, and your entire shtick was about making Jeonghan look as desirable as possible on SNS. You’ve been doing a terrific job so far, if his steady rise in followers was anything to go by.

Still. Jeonghan has been attempting to give you the cold shoulder for the past 15 minutes. Attempting, because you don’t even seem to notice that he’s gone quiet— too busy on your phone to pay him any heed.

He shoves his hands into his pockets and clears his throat. He doesn’t even have to glance at your screen; he knows you’re probably on Lightroom, fine tuning the press photos of him from earlier this morning.

At the twenty-minute mark, Jeonghan finally huffs, “I’m ignoring you.”

“Hm?” you say distractedly, and he resist the urge to chuck your phone into the nearby lake.

“I said,” he repeats. “I’m ignoring you.”

You glance up at him, unamused. “You are literally talking to me,” you note.

“Well, I was ignoring you before that.”

“Were you?”

“Yes. You didn’t notice, so I thought I’d inform you.”

The beleaguered sigh you let out is not a new thing. Jeonghan has been on the receiving end of your exasperation for as long as he’s known you.

At least there’s a hint of guilt on your expression as you tuck away your phone. “Sorry,” you mumble. “Everybody’s posting follower ranking listicles since it’s the end of the year. I wanted to see where we were placing.”

He’s down so bad for you that it’s not even funny anymore.

“And?” he prods, his earlier chagrin smoothed out into something that sounds a lot more like resigned affection. “How’s it looking?”

The frustration that takes over your expression makes Jeonghan want to coo. It’s nothing short of a miracle that he manages to hold himself back.

“We still haven’t beat out Choi Soobin.” You frown like the other idol has personally wronged you by having a higher follower count. “His boyfriend material photos are too damn good.”

“His what?”

You whip out your phone. Jeonghan watches with growing incredulity as you pull up Instagram, and he’s less than pleased that user page.soobin is already one of your more recently searched accounts.

When you shove your phone underneath Jeonghan’s nose, he’s treated to the sight of Soobin’s feed. “Boyfriend material photos,” you double down, like having a visual might somehow explain things away.

Jeonghan snatches your phone from you. “I heard you the first time,” he says irritably. “But what does it mean?”

“It means that he looks like somebody’s boyfriend,” you shoot back.

Oh, Jeonghan does not like that.

He doesn’t care if it’s just a term for a type of photo. The thought of you perceiving anyone else as ‘boyfriend material’ makes a muscle in his jaw tick.

“Do you think,” he says coolly, keeping his eyes trained on your screen, “he looks like ‘boyfriend material’?”

“I mean, yeah—”

You’ve barely gotten to the end of your sentence before Jeonghan is handing you back your phone. “Where are you going?” you call out as he marches a couple of paces away.

He looks equal part determined and peeved when he turns to face you. You have your eyebrows arched upward, but he’s more focused on making sure his good side is angled towards you.

“Get some photos of your actual boyfriend,” he grumbles.

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ ZILD - Lia

jeonghaniyoo_n we put the world away Liked by xuminghao_o, min9yu_k, and 1,000,289 others View all 2,109 comments

The day you tell Jeonghan about your plans of resigning, his first thought is Well, that was good while it lasted.

His attempt at being unaffected is a shaky one. You can tell by the way he holds his paper cup just a little too tightly, the way he keeps smoothing out invisible wrinkles on his coat. His poorly concealed distress makes your expression soften, which is somehow worse.

He didn’t want a civil breakup. He’d much rather go out kicking and screaming than have something amicable.

And he most especially didn’t want to be broken up with in some random café in Tokyo. He has half a mind to ask why you couldn’t have waited until the two of you were back home.

Jeonghan swallows hard, like it might somehow help him swallow the panic simmering in the pit of his stomach.

“Good for you,” he finally manages to respond. “You’re overworked here, anyway.”

“That’s not the reason why I’m leaving.”

Jeonghan hates how calm you look. The two of you had watched— and judged— one too many dramas, and so he’d imagined a breakup with you would be something like that. A rain-soaked street, choice words that neither of you could take back.

Not you stirring sugar into your coffee like this is not a relationship-defining conversation.

When Jeonghan doesn’t respond, you continue. Your voice goes a touch softer, and he’s struck with the fear that you’re trying to let him down gently.

“I’m resigning because of you, Hannie.” That nickname— the one that once felt like a Daesang in its own right, when you first bestowed it on him— now makes Jeonghan’s heart feel like lead.

“Because of me,” he repeats.

His mouth is dry. His hands are clammy. He’s thirty seconds away from getting on his knees and begging you to stay, the rest of the café’s patrons be damned.

Your next words are spoken like an unshakable truth. “Because I love you.”

You—

The look on Jeonghan’s face must be priceless; you start to laugh, and the sound of it eases some of Jeonghan’s fraying nerves.

“I love you, and I want to be with you. Properly.” Your lips purse for a moment. “Well, as properly as being with an idol will allow, anyway. At least I won’t have to worry about getting called in by HR if I’m working someplace else.”

Workplace violations. Right. That had been a thing.

All the emotions hit Jeonghan like a truck. Relief (that you’re not breaking up with him), then affection (that you’re willing to do this for him), then guilt (that you’re willing to do this for him).

He reaches across the table to place his hand on top of yours. Your eyes instinctively glance around your surroundings, checking to see if anyone is looking your way. Jeonghan tugs at your hand and shakes his head. Focus on me, he’s wordlessly saying, and for once, you do.

“I love you, too. More than you know,” he says. “But I don’t want you to throw away your career for me. Who’s to say you won’t resent me down the line because of it? I— I couldn’t live with myself, sweetheart.”

You squeeze Jeonghan’s hand reassuringly. “I’m not throwing anything away. I’m just compromising.”

“I don’t want you to have to compromise anything for me.”

“Compromise is part of a grownup relationship, Hannie. It’s a good compromise.”

He must not look convinced, because you take things a step further. Instead of just clasping his hand in yours, you move to intertwine your fingers. There’s some comfort in the familiar feeling of your fingers in between the spaces of his.

“Nothing is being thrown away,” you repeat, your tone brooking no argument. “I will not hate you tomorrow because of this.”

Here’s the thing: Jeonghan trusts you implicitly, and not only with his SNS passwords. He trusts your no-nonsense attitude, your unshakeable feelings, your typically sound judgement.

He wants to trust you now. He wants to believe so, so badly that there is something on the other side for the two of you, and that something would be exactly what the two of you deserve.

He tongues the inside of his cheek as he considers your words. When he speaks, his voice is a lot smaller than he intends.

“What about the day after tomorrow?”

The initial confusion that flits over your expression is replaced by that grin he adores.

“I’ll still love you the day after tomorrow,” you promise.

He presses, “And the week after that?”

“The week after that, too.”

“What about the month after?”

“I’ll do you one better— the year after, too.”

You’re laughing, laughing in the way that he’s always tried to make you laugh, and it’s all Jeonghan needs to trust that things are going to be okay.

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ Pritam, Mohit Chauhan, Irshad Kamil - Tum Se Hi

jeonghaniyoo_n my getaway, my favorite place Liked by ho5hi_kwon, everyone_woo, and 2,000,001 others View all 2,109 comments

Click. Click. Click.

“What are you doing?”

“What,” Jeonghan huffs, “A guy can’t take photos of his girlfriend?”

You throw a pillow in Jeonghan’s direction, though your terrible aim has it soaring right over his head.

Ever since you left his company, Jeonghan has enjoyed an array of benefits that come with dating someone who is not your co-worker. The biggest of which happened to be all the time he’s now free to spend with you, most of which he’s happy to kill in his apartment.

He’s still a little bit petulant about your new job, though, and he likes to voice it out as often as he can.

“I bet Soobin has tons of photos of you,” he grumbles.

You pretend not to hear him. Jeonghan tries again.

From the foot of the bed, Jeonghan begins to crawl over your legs. Your annoyed tsk goes ignored as he takes your laptop and sets it aside, dragging you away from your social media planning for page.soobin.

“He better not fall in love with you,” Jeonghan warns.

You let out a low hiss before swatting at your boyfriend, trying to get him off of you. He doesn’t budge, instead caging you in with his arms on either side of you.

When he goes to kiss you, it bears none of the threatening front that he’s trying to put up. It’s a slow, sweet thing. A glimmer lighting up his cotton sheets.

He only pulls away when he can no longer physically manage to keep kissing you. There’s the beginning of a grin on his face as his breaths come out in short pants, as his eyes stay closed. He’s savoring the moment, trying to remind himself how damn lucky he is even if the cost involves running his own SNS accounts henceforth.

“I’ll give you your laptop back,” he murmurs, satisfied to have had an ounce of you.

But then you’re laughing, your fingers threading through his hair. You tug Jeonghan back down despite the fact that you’re just as breathless, and his lips curl into a full-on smile when they meet yours.

He’d been happy with an ounce, yes, but who is he to complain when you give him the whole damn lot?

jeonghaniyoo_n ♫ 5 Seconds of Summer - Disconnected

jeonghaniyoo_n Do not disturb. 📵 - YJH Liked by sound_of_coups, joshua_acoustic, and 3,392,034 others View all 30,109 comments

diamonddaze01 NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO ylangelegy just fell to my knees 💔 happy for you, king yourusername :-)

#dont mind me just sobbing bc the loml wrote me something #and dear god what a masterpiece it is #using tum se hi against me is CHEATING!#but who needs literature when i can just read kae's writing #kae doesn't write they paint and sculpt and leave us with masterpieces #thank you #i adore you #i will love you to the ends of the earth kae #tara reads #svt: yjh #user: ylangelegy #my beautiful moots! 💫#my fav constellations 💫#📝 annotations

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ambeauty · 1 day ago

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thoughts about Sydney and Carmy’s Love Story as told through the music in The Bear

If you know anything about the bear you know that the music is extremely important to the storytelling. There have been many metas about specific songs and versions of songs and the artists and genre influence the story. For this one, I’d like to illustrate how I think the music replaces the dialogue and tells Sydney and Carmy’s love story more overtly. Chris curates the music and editing choices himself so I know that every song choice is intentional as well as where they are placed. I believe that when the dialogue drops out and the lyrics come in and are transcribed into the subtitles, it is done to illustrate what the characters are feeling in these moments even when they can’t explain those feelings themselves. These are just a few examples but I believe there are many many more.

Season 1

Impossible Germany by Wilco- plays infamously behind Sydney and Carmy in Sheridan as she discusses her catering business failing. Their first moment of vulnerability. Sydney also asks Carmy for help. Something she doesn’t really like to do. The lyrics on the subtitles are “That’s what love is.”

Season 2

Pasta- You are Not Alone by Mavis Staple - the through line of the entire season. This song plays as Sydney has dinner with her father to celebrate her mother’s birthday and Carmy is reintroduced to Claire. This moment initiates what is the central rift between these two characters will be. Who are theoretically loners, but able to find kinship with each other. However a new character threatens that dynamic and possibility. The lyrics of You Are Not Alone describe them perfectly.

Forks - Love Story by Taylor Swift- “Marry me Juliet you never have to be alone. I talked to your dad go pick out a white dress.”

This lyric plays at the end credits of forks. The beginning of forks shows Carmy and Sydney working on the renovations of the bear. Separately but together, yet still alone. I also think that lyric represents the future partnership agreement which is a business marriage of the two. Once they are official partners, they’ll never have to be alone. Also "I talk to your dad" is funny because we know how Emmanuel feels about Carmy and how they have yet to meet. What will that meeting mean for Sydney and Carmy?

Most episodes in S2 after the end of Sundae, where Sydney loses trust in Carmy after her ditches her, shows her doing research and design alone. She never goes back to his home.

Even though Carmy is with Claire there’s a sense of loneliness for him in her world, because he doesn’t quite fit. This might be a reach, but I just tried to analyze his body language in Pop, which to me felt stiff and uneasy. He knows he’s supposed to be somewhere else but he’s trying to cure his loneliness with Claire as she is the first person that truly forces him to confront his failures at forming romantic relationships.

Season 3

No Machine by Adrianne Lenker - the lyrics "don’t know what I’d do without you" illustrate a scene where Carmy is thinking of a conversation with Claire, the scene cuts and everything is blurry around him but Sydney's voice is clear, the scene cuts again and its Richie in the dining room listening but thinking about his family. Another lyric/subtitle "don't know where I'd go without you" and it cuts again to Sydney at home contemplating her relationship with Carmy from the beginning. All 3 of our main characters are contemplating what they mean to each other and what their life is like with them in it. I think this song describes the throughline of the season as well. They are all contemplate the importance of these bonds they have created and what they actually mean.

I'm quite sure there are many other examples of this occurring but I don't have the capacity to do the amount of research this requires. However, if you notice this pattern of the music enhancing the emotional depth of the characters and the story and want to share please do so.

Hopefully this makes sense and not more senseless sydcarmy babble!

#sydcarmy #the bear meta #i been thinking about this for awhile now #sorry if its a repeat of something much better thoughout that already exists #i miss them so bad

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mischievouslittlecreature · 1 day ago

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Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: Things escalate to the point of complete and utter disaster.

Word Count: 5,593

Warnings: MAJOR angst, a suicide attempt, insecurity, depression, suicidal thoughts, self harm, and blood.

Notes: Please prepare yourselves before reading this one, guys. I'm not joking around with the warnings here (not that I ever am, but you know what I mean). Also I apologize profusely in advance for what's about to happen.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 16: Battered & Mangled

Lucy twisted her hands together, feeling vaguely sick with nerves. Silence stretched on between her and Tommy, each of them waiting for the other to speak first.

“I called you,” he said, finally. “Earlier.”

“You did?” Fingers ran through her red hair, tugging on the locks anxiously. “Sorry. I was out with Asher. Did something happen?”

He stood from the chair he was collapsed in, grabbing more kindling to feed into the fire. “Polly resigned.”

That startled her a bit. “Oh?”

“Mhm.” He looked so…lost. Blue eyes staring pointedly out into the dark of the night.

“Was it because of Michael?” she pressed.

“I’m not here to talk about Polly,” Tommy said, voice suddenly stern. She looked down at her feet.

“Right.”

No more avoiding things. They both needed to have their heads clear for the events that were about to unfold. And it had become clear that just attempting to ignore their current situation to deal with later wasn’t going to achieve that.

And…she had promised him that they would talk about things.

She’d have suggested they go inside, into the living quarters that Charlie had been letting her stay in. But she didn’t really want anyone eavesdropping in on their conversation.

More silence stretched out between them, long and dark and endless. She jumped when Tommy’s hand touched her cheek, tilting her head up to look at him where he was now standing in front of her. She hadn’t even heard him move.

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” she said softly, eyes staring up into his.

“So come home.”

Her face crumpled. “I can’t.” It was barely more than a whisper.

“Why?”

“You know why, Tom.”

“No; no I don’t think that I do.” His voice was low and soft like honey. Tempting. “So tell me. Please. Help me understand. We can figure something out. If we just sit down and talk about it–”

“Talk about what, Tommy? About what days you and I are allowed to spend the night together? I don’t want to live like that. To be…the dirty little secret that you keep around to fuck you when your wife isn’t available.”

His brow furrowed, almost in confusion. Like the thought had never even occurred to him. “You would never be that. You’re not some whore I keep around for when I get bored, Lucy. And besides, I told you, I fixed that. She’s fine with us being together whenever–”

“You expect me to believe that’ll last? With her pattern of behavior? This is how it’s always worked with her, Tommy. She’s all nice and smiles and sweetness until something sets her off, and then I’m suddenly the big bad monster who’s stealing her husband. What happens the next time she has one of her fits? Hm? When she comes back asking for even more? Now that you’ve given her this, what’s going to stop her from asking for even more restrictions on what you can and can’t do with me? How long before you can’t even touch me at all without it breaking some rule that she’s come up with?”

“I won’t let that happen–”

“Yeah, well you already let this fucking happen,” she snapped back. Tommy’s eyes widened. She drew in a trembling breath, turning away, fighting back every urge to just shout at him. A lump formed in her throat. She forced herself to swallow it down.

“You chose to leave,” Tommy said sternly. “That wasn’t part of Lizzie’s rules. That wasn’t something that I wanted. You decided to do that, Lucy.”

“And I’ve told you over and over again why I had to do that. Lizzie and I can’t live in such close quarters with each other all the time. She can barely even stand to see you touch me, Tommy.”

“That’s her fucking problem.”

“No, it’s not! Not when her reaction to it affects all of us! This,” she gestured widely, “was the only solution.”

“A solution where everyone ends up miserable?”

“Oh, please,” she snapped, voice beginning to rise. “Don’t act like Lizzie isn’t fucking thrilled now that I’m gone and she gets to finally play out the happy fucking family fantasy that she’s always wanted. I’m not blind, I’ve seen how much happier you’ve been lately. Don’t act like it isn’t better now that I’m gone.”

“It’s not. It’s fucking awful there, Lucy. I’m not happier. I don’t know what I did to make you think that I am, but I’m not. I’m so…I’m so fucking lonely without you.” His voice started to rise as well, but he drew in a deep breath when she looked away, eyes focusing on the dark waters of the cut. When he spoke again his voice was softer. “And what about you, eh? Are you happier, now that you’ve moved out?” He took a cautious step towards her. “Michael said that you’re miserable.”

“You shouldn’t listen to anything that Michael says.”

“He’s right, though. Isn’t he?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters. I don’t want you to be unhappy, love.” Another step, so that he was close enough for her to smell the scent of cigarette smoke and his cologne. Tommy rubbed a hand over his face, looking at her with scrutinizing eyes. “Why did you really leave, Lucy? Because I don’t believe it was just about Lizzie’s rules. There’s something else going on. I can see it in your eyes.” There was a desperation in his gaze that she wasn’t used to seeing. “Just tell me.” She looked away again, hands wringing together frantically. Tommy’s face twitched with frustration. “If I have to live the rest of my life without you then I think that I at least deserve to know why.” She pressed her lips together, squeezing her eyes shut tight. It was unclear whether she wanted to cry or shout at him. Tommy seemed to soften a little, reigning in his frustration to gently touch her hand, stilling her relentless fidgeting.

“Please. I know I fucked up. Just…help me understand. If I understand why you left, then I can find some way to fix this…”

“Maybe there is no fixing this,” she said defeatedly with a shrug. The frustration in Tommy’s face returned, face twisting as he struggled to reign in his temper.

“So…what? You’re just going to give up, is that what’s happening here? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like I’m the only one who’s actually still fighting for us.”

“What?” Her anger was cold in her veins, rushing and bubbling just beneath her skin. Huh. It seemed that Polly had been right. She was angry at him.

“I’m the one who’s been renegotiating with Lizzie. I’m the one trying to find an actual fucking solution to this mess. You keep saying that everything is fine, promising that we will work things out. And yet I’ve been practically begging you to talk to me about this since it happened, and all you’ve done is avoid and ignore me. I’ve been trying, Lucy. Trying to talk to you, to still be with you, and you’ve done nothing but push me away.”

“Don’t you talk about fighting for us when you all but rolled over for Lizzie when she asked you to throw a grenade in the middle of our relationship to make her happy. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Tommy, but we are in the middle of a dangerous conspiracy to assassinate an MP, not to mention plugging up leaks, and dodging all of our other enemies that have been coming at us from every possible angle. So excuse me for trying to put the good of the company and the family over our personal issues.”

“No, don’t you fucking do that! Don’t act like you couldn’t have spared one lunch, one goddamn hour, to talk about this with me!”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “Why? So I get to hear again about how you chose her over me?”

Never before had she really considered herself to be a jealous person. But perhaps it was because she hadn’t ever felt like her place in Tommy’s heart was being threatened. He had shared all of his other lovers with her. And she had always known, without a single bit of doubt in her mind, that she was and always would be Tommy’s favorite. That he loved her. Because she was the only one that he let into his head. That he told his darkest, most closely kept secrets to. The only one allowed to actually touch his heart.

Grace had been different. Because the three of them had all loved each other. Grace had simply become an addition to their pairing. And she had always ensured that Lucy had felt included. Not once did she try to usurp Lucy or steal Tommy away from her. Like Lizzie had.

Difficult as things had been with Lizzie, Lucy had managed to make peace with the arrangement. At least outside of the relentless guilt she felt every time she so much as looked into Lizzie’s heartbroken eyes. And maybe there was a particularly awful part of her that almost enjoyed the knowledge that while Tommy may spend his nights with Lizzie out of duty, he spent the ones he did with her out of love.

But now that she knew Tommy did not love her anymore, everything had been thrown into disarray. She had begun to wonder if perhaps that was why, despite his previous words about fighting for them, he had not really fought for her at all when he’d struck that new deal with Lizzie. Even if he didn’t love Lizzie, did it really matter? He had still chosen her. To throw Lucy and their relationship into uncertainty all in the name of making Lizzie happy.

She didn’t want to be angry with him, but now that she had cracked open that little box she had stuffed all of her fury towards him in, it seemed incapable of anything other than spilling out.

“What? No, no, no, that’s not what happened. You know I don’t love her. You know that.” Tommy’s voice was shocked, near panicked in response to her words.

“Then why did you do this to us, Tommy!?”

“I was drunk! Alright!? I was drunk off my ass. I wasn’t thinking. I was trying to get the information out of her of where Linda was for Arthur. And…Lizzie’s useful. I saw an opportunity to keep her around and I took it.”

She shook her head, pulling away from him, still too angry and hurt. “Oh, yes. That makes me feel so much better! Good to know that my place in your life is worth trading for a morsel of information.”

He flinched. “That’s not what I meant.” He reached out to touch her face, but she pulled away.

“Isn’t it?” she spat out bitterly.

He reached out, grasping her cheeks in his hands. “Love, no. I made a mistake. I fucked up, but I was not choosing her over you.”

“Stop it.” She pulled her face back, leaving his hands grasping at air.

“Stop what?” The genuine confusion in his voice just made her angrier.

“Stop acting like you care so damn much! You want so badly to know why I left? I left because I couldn’t stand to live in a house where I was clearly so unwanted!”

Tommy reared back like she had slapped him. “Unwan–Lucy, what are you talking about?”

“God, Tommy!” she pushed away from him, pacing back and forth across the small space protected from the rain. “You made that deal with Lizzie. Either you knew what it would mean for you and me, or you didn’t even think of me at all.” She wasn’t sure which was worse. “Neither of you even thought to talk to me about it. Do you realize how…how…that feels!? To have your lover strike an arrangement that directly affects you without even including you in the discussion about it at all!? And–on top of all that–with someone who has done nothing but bully you and do everything in her power to make you miserable for years!?”

“That’s-that’s not fair–” Tommy protested.

“Not fair? Not fair!? I’ll tell you what isn’t fucking fair, Thomas. What’s not fair is that I’m the one person who’s always been there for you and yet I’m the one that gets thrown out like garbage while she gets you for the rest of your lives!” She had to ball her hands up into fists to keep them from shaking. “I am so…fucking angry with you! You make this deal with Lizzie without even thinking of me, then you blindside me about it when we’re about to go into a fucking work meeting. You try to make it better by treating me more like your mistress or your personal whore than your lover–”

“Now, hang on just a fucking minute–”

“Shut up!” she practically screamed at him. Tommy gaped at her. In all their years together, she had never spoken to him like that.

“You leave me to greet guests at your own fucking dinner party and to deal with Mosley alone while you’re too busy off fucking your wife, and then to top it all off, you replace me at my job with a man who hasn’t even held a rifle in years!”

“We talked about that! I told you, it’s just for this one job, and that’s it!” Now Tommy was shouting too.

“That isn’t the point, Tommy! I’m replaceable! You’ve proven that with Lizzie, and again with Barney!” Her voice cracked a bit, the tears beginning to well in her eyes faster than she could force them down. The feelings of worthlessness and rejection nearly choked her. Tommy stared at her for a moment, mouth open slightly, brow furrowed, eyes blazing with a combination of hurt and fury.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” he said finally. His voice was level, no longer shouting, but she knew him well enough to recognize the wrath and frustration beneath his tone. “Love, I don’t know how else to tell you this, you are not being replaced.” Head shaking, he stalked back and forth before turning to her, finger raised. “You keep talking like you think that this is what I wanted. You think I ever wanted to hurt you? Do you really think that I wanted,” he gestured vaguely, “any of this!?” He must have seen something in her face, because he took a step forward, face twisting with conviction. “You think that I wanted Lizzie to get pregnant!? You think that I wanted to have to marry her? You think that I would have done any of it, if I had known that it would cost me you!?” His voice was loud enough to echo a little in the space around them. Lucy forced herself to not break eye contact with him, even as her body trembled with the sobs she was fighting hard to stifle. “You said…you said that you were okay with it,” he added weakly. “I asked you, before I proposed to Lizzie.”

“I know. I know, I did, Tom. And I was. But that was before…” she trailed off, tears running down her face. Tommy reached out a hand to try to touch her cheek, to wipe them away, but she pulled back, away from him.

“Before what?”

“It doesn’t matter.” She looked away, still unable to bring herself to actually say it.

“Yes, it does.” He waited for her to say more, sighing defeatedly when she didn’t. He was searching her eyes for something. Whatever he was looking for, he didn’t seem to find it, sighing and dropping to sit down in the chair by the fire, head in his hands.

“You promised,” he croaked, after finally raising his face, “when you left that we would still be together. That we weren’t splitting up. But that hasn’t seemed to be true at all, Lucy.”

She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself, tears still leaking from her eyes.

“Tell me what you’re thinking. Please. Did you mean it, when you said that? Or were you just telling me what you thought I wanted to hear?” Something frighteningly resigned filtered into those ice blue eyes. He sighed very deeply, gazing out into the rain. “If you really want to leave, I won’t stop you. You know that.”

“You think that I really wanted to leave? I love you, Tommy.” He looked up at her words, eyes suddenly full of hope. “I meant it. When I said that we could still be together. But…”

“But what?” He stood. “But what, Lucy?”

She shook her head, unable to get the words out, her chest spasming with hiccups. Those sobs that she had been keeping at bay finally making themselves known, taking such violent hold over her body that she almost feared that she would collapse with them. Tommy stood, going to her and laying a hand on her arm that she weakly pushed away.

“Love…love, please. Please,” he tried to reason. “Come home. Don’t worry about anything else. I want you back. I want you with me. Lucy,” he was trying to get in closer to her, to force her to meet his eyes. “Lucy, I love you–”

“I don’t believe you!” It came out as an agonizing wail, shrill and with enough conviction to shake the entire earth. The words seemed to rip apart her vocal cords on their way out. Her heart shredded in her chest like paper. What little will for life she had remaining blew out like a candle.

There it was. Bared and out for all to see. The truth. What she had known deep down for a while. Longer than she probably even realized. Because she’d been in denial about all of it. Because she wanted to hold onto him. Because she was a selfish, disgusting, horrid monster who hadn’t wanted to let him go even though she had to. Their relationship was dead. Had started to die slowly and painfully the second Lizzie got pregnant. Whatever love he’d ever had for her was long gone. Buried deep under the ground, never to be felt again. All that was left was residual guilt and a sense of duty towards her. That was all this was.

And he still knew her well enough to know that the admittance of the death of his love for her would destroy her, so he would not say it. He’d carry on pretending, or at least trying to, for her sake. But she needed to stop being so selfish with him; stop trying to hold onto him for a little longer. She had to set him free.

Tommy’s entire face changed. All anger and earnestness fell right off of it, eyes widening, jerking back as if she’d slapped him. The color drained out of his face, freckles standing out starkly against his paper-white skin, a look of horror quickly overtaking the frustration that had been there but a moment prior.

Unable to face the mounting pain in his eyes, she buried her face in her hands. Great, she’d gone and hurt his feelings. But why? Because she’d called him on his bluff? Because he didn’t want to hurt her? At this point, she wished that he would just stop pretending and be honest. He didn’t love her anymore. They couldn’t keep dancing around it forever.

“Lucy…” he made a sound of physical pain and rushed towards her, saying her name in agony, reaching out to her, trying to hold her.

“Get away from me!” She braced both hands on his chest and shoved, hard enough to send him staggering back a few steps, eyes wide.

“Love…”

She shook her head furiously, still sobbing, taking a step away from him. “We’re done here.” There was more that they needed to discuss. What was going to happen to her position as his assistant, for one, but she couldn’t. Not now. “We’re done for tonight.” Another step back. “I’m sorry. We can talk more later…”

“No, Lucy, wait–!”

But she stepped back into the downpour surrounding them, and the rush of the rain pelting upon her drowned out his voice. With one final hitching sob, she rounded on her heel and ran, nearly slipping and tripping in the mud, to the door of the living quarters. She burst through it into the kitchen, slamming the door shut behind her. A hand clapped over her mouth to try to contain her heartbroken cries.

Tommy did not follow her. That only made her sob more.

Asher, laying by the door, raised his head, whining and going to nudge at her legs with his nose.

Absentmindedly, she stroked his nose before staggering to the stairs, trembling fingers closing around the rail to balance herself. She was shivering, both from the chill that the rain had left her with, and the emotions still pumping through her veins. Asher’s nails clicked against the floorboards as he followed behind her.

Her room was the furthest door down on the left, but that was not where she went. Instead, she made a beeline for the red door at the end of the hall. The one that led into the washroom.

“No, Ash. Stay out here,” she commanded gently to the dog when he tried to squeeze past her legs to follow her inside. He whined again, watching her with concerned brown eyes, his head tilting to try to keep her in his line of sight as she closed the door.

Peeling off her drenched coat, she let it fall into a heap of soggy material on the tiled floor. Her skin had erupted into gooseflesh, shaking so badly her teeth rattled in her skull.

It’s over. It’s done.

I’m all alone again.

Both hands landed on the rim of the sink, barely managing to catch herself as she fell forward with an agonized sob. Her lungs and throat ached from crying, her eyes burning from shedding so many tears.

There was so much pain inside her, it felt like she was about to burst unless she found some way to release it.

She needed to get cleaned up. Yes; that’s what she needed to do. Maybe she would feel better after…

Oh, who was she kidding? She would never feel better again. Not after this.

But she went to the tub on the far end of the washroom anyway, turning the faucet on it and fitting the plug in place.

As the tub filled, she ridded herself of her upper layers until she was only in her undershirt and trousers. Opening up the cabinet, she riffled through it in search of the soap she’d stored there earlier, fingers freezing when they passed over not the soap, but something silver and gleaming.

“Pick it up,” a low, Irish accented voice said, arms suddenly wrapping around Lucy’s waist, chin resting on her shoulder. “Pick it up, get in the tub, and come away with me.”

Lucy remained frozen, trembling fingers hovering in place.

No one wants me here anyway.

It would be what’s best for everyone.

I won’t be a burden anymore.

They’ll be free of me.

Each thought came one right after the other rapidly, knocking her down and then striking her with the next before she had a chance to recover. Grace’s eyes gleamed at her from over her shoulder in the mirror.

No one loves me.

Her fingers closed around the razor.

∗ ∗ ∗

I don’t believe you.

He stared at the place where Lucy had been standing just seconds prior, mouth half open, his cries of her name lost in the roar of the wind and the splattering of rain.

I don’t believe you.

He moved to race after her, to grab her tight in his arms and never, ever let her go again. To tell her over and over that he loved her, until she finally believed him again.

I don’t believe you.

“Is everything alright, Tommy?” Curly asked, and Tommy paused, head snapping around to find the man standing just at the edge of the covering, barely out of the rain, his hands wringing together. “I heard shouting…”

No. Nothing is alright at all.

“Everything is fine, Curly,” he lied, managing a weak smile. “Everything is fine. Go on back to bed, eh? I’m sorry if we woke you up.”

“I was in the stables.”

Tommy nodded. As was often the case. Curly preferred to sleep with the horses than in a bed. “Well, best get back before they miss you in there, then, eh?”

Curly brightened, smiling and nodding. “Good night, then, Tom.”

“Good night, Curly.” He waited until he’d hurried back to the stables before he doused the fire, making sure there weren’t any lingering sparks or flames, then stepped away, picking his way carefully through the slippery mud towards the building Lucy had disappeared into.

Swiping off his cap, he shook it out a few times to try to dispel some of the water that had soaked into it. The door into the living quarters opened up into a kitchen, a small sitting room just off to the right, and the stairs that led to the bedrooms in the back. The kitchen was vacant, but there were muddy footprints leading from the door to the stairs.

Tommy glanced around the kitchen, taking a second to gather himself. He would need to be the calm one. The rational one. Lucy was clearly even more upset than he had originally thought. If he wanted to help pull her out of the dark pit of despair she’d fallen into, he would have to keep his head about him. Not let himself get frustrated.

After all, it wasn’t her fault. He was the jackass who had so thoroughly fucked up that the love of his life didn’t even believe he loved her anymore.

It had been a while since he’d been in there. The kitchen was minimalistic and tidy as ever, but he noticed little symptoms of Lucy’s presence scattered throughout: the angle at which the kettle was settled on the stove, the tin of cinnamon vanilla tea on the counter, the way that the towels were folded. He smiled a little to himself fondly at the reminders of her presence.

How could she ever think that he didn’t love her? The very idea of it was absolutely absurd to him.

He hadn’t much of an actual plan for what he was going to do or say outside of going upstairs. Finding Lucy in her room. Taking her into his arms. Telling her over and over that he loved her. That he was so sorry. That he’d do anything, anything to fix what he had done.

And then he’d take her to bed, and make love to her until the sun came up, and any doubts that he loved her with every ounce of his being were banished from her mind.

A bark shattered through the air and Tommy jumped, head turning to find Asher standing at the top of the stairs, practically bouncing from foot to foot anxiously.

“Asher, no,” he frowned. Usually Asher was very good about not barking. Not unless he was alerting them to approaching dangers. Asher barked again, darting away from the stairs to further down the hallway that they led up to, then back to the top of the stairs, staring down at him imploringly. “Asher–oi!” Tommy jumped back in surprise when Asher suddenly darted down the stairs, took a mouthful of his trouser leg in his jaws, and tried to tug him up the stairs with him. “What the hell?”

Asher yanked, and it was either he took a step forward or let the dog rip his trousers.

“Asher, mate, I can’t play with you right now…”

Dropping the mouthful of fabric, Asher barked, then whined, darting up the stairs.

“For fuck’s sake…” Tommy muttered. Now was not the time. Still, he huffed, following the dog up the stairs and down the hall. “What? What is so important?”

Asher came to a stop at the red door at the very far end of the hallway, whining and lifting a paw to scratch at the door. He was panting, tail dropped low. His ears kept twitching, as if trying to listen for something. Tommy’s blood chilled.

“Asher?” he asked, making his way down the hallway. The dog whined loudly, scratching more insistently at the door. When Tommy got closer, he could see marks already left on the base of the wall and door frame where the dog had been pawing at it. “Move, boy,” he gently nudged the dog out of the way, leaning his head against the door, trying to hear what was on the other side of it as he raised his fist to knock.

“Lucy?” he called softly. “Love, are you in there?”

No answer. He tried again.

“Lucy? Are you okay?”

Still nothing. Asher whined again, distraught. Tommy swallowed hard, his heart rate spiking in his ears. Fear locked pale hands around his throat.

“Sweetheart? I’m coming in.”

When he tried the knob it was to find the door surprisingly unlocked, but that was where his relief ended.

Later, they would tell him that he screamed. And he supposed that he must have, though he had no recollection of it.

The pieces of the scene before him were processed only in fragments. As if his mind knew that anything more would cause him to become incapacitated by hysterics.

The bloody bathwater. The body with her head lolled back against the rim. The soaked clothes sticking to her like a second skin. The hand draped over the edge of the tub, blood dripping from it onto the white tiles. The bloody razor on the floor. The deep cuts slashed into her wrists.

He was hurling himself towards the bathtub before his mind had fully finished processing what he was seeing, plunging his hands into the lukewarm water. Not caring that it was stained red–red, with her blood–as he scooped her up out of the tub. And she was a dead weight in his arms, and the thought of that word in association with Lucy had his knees buckling, sinking to the floor with her cradled to his chest.

She was still dressed in her white undershirt and dark trousers. Her head fell back limply against his shoulder, those big brown eyes he’d fallen so deeply in love with closed. Damp hair clung to her forehead, a shade darker red than usual from the moisture.

“No,” he choked out, hands hovering over her, frantic. “No, no, no, no, no, no…” he found her arms, gripping them tight, examining the blood flowing heavily from her wrists to pool around them.

Have to stop the bleeding.

Shifting Lucy to lay across his lap, he yanked his tie free from around his neck with shaking hands, wrapping it around one of her arms and pulling it taunt in an improvised tourniquet.

“Please, please,” he begged. He needed something else for the other arm…

“Tommy, what’s–oh my God,” Charlie gasped, coming to a stop in the doorway.

Tommy looked up at him, and when he spoke, his voice was shockingly childlike.

“Help me.”

“I’ll call an ambulance!” Charlie shouted, already racing down the hall. Tommy turned his attention back to Lucy, grabbing onto her shirt sleeves and ripping them apart to set to work fashioning a second tourniquet around the other arm.

Right. What next? What more could he do to help her? It was taking everything he had to fight back the cycle of memories his brain was attempting to bombard him with: Greta’s hand in his, her final breaths rattling in her lungs while he lingered at her side, unable to do anything. Grace, in his arms, bleeding out while he was helpless to save her..

Here’s another one, Tommy. Another woman you loved, dead in your arms. Another one that’s all your fault.

He shook his head. He needed to find something to make bandages out of for her wrists. Reaching into his pocket, he yanked out his handkerchief, ripping it in two and folding it, using one hand each to press the two pieces of fabric to the deep wounds on her wrists. The fabric was soaked crimson within seconds, and he was suddenly massively aware of the size of the scarlet puddle growing around him.

He did not really even know if she was still alive. There was no time to check. He was pretty sure he saw her chest rising and falling shallowly, but that could always have been his mind seeing what it wanted to see.

Despite the makeshift bandages steadily soaking through, he continued to maintain pressure, even as hope slipped away with every passing second. He could taste salt from his tears against his lips, aware that he was sobbing distraughtly, but not caring to do anything about it.

“Please,” he curled around her, face bent in close to hers. “Please, Lucy, don’t leave me alone. Hang on. Just hang on. I’m sorry.” He started crying even harder. “I’m so, so sorry. I love you. I love you more than anything. Just please, please hang on. Stay with me. Please, please, please, please…”

He was still there, holding her on the floor of the washroom in a pool of her blood, crying and speaking to her softly, when the paramedics came charging through the door.

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#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #lucy winters #tommy shelby x oc #lucy winters x tommy shelby #love me where i'm most ruined #lily writes #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders oc #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby fanfic

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peachhcs · 3 days ago

Note

Idk if you've ever written about this but when samy and will get back together when do they tell their friends? Do they tell Ryan and Gabe immediately or keep it lowkey for a while? How do they react?

oo i don't think i have written about this before. i always started to and then i never finished my drafts so i'm glad someone asked about it to remind me :)

considering they get back together in san jose when samy's there helping settle will in, it's pretty easy for them to keep it on the down low and i think they definitely do for a bit and not tell ryan and gabe and all of them. of course though, ryan and gabe are dying to know if they did get back together because they were all really hoping the trip would the couple work out the last of their differences and finally get back together

au masterlist

as soon as samy sat down gabe and ryan were on her immediately and dying to know what happened in san jose. samy and will were purposefully not saying much because they wanted to ease back into telling their friends that they were back together, but boy, were those two persistent.

she went to go see them in boston one more time before everything swept them up, and neither of them wasted any time sitting her down on the couch to talk. none of the other guys were home and wouldn’t be for at least two hours, so the three had a lot of time to talk.

“sooo..” ryan began, eager and curious because will wasn’t saying much to them over text.

“you guys were so nosy,” samy teased with a small eye roll.

“it’s not nosy if we wanna know,” gabe said and that made the girl raise her eyebrow because she didn’t even know what that meant.

“come on, just tell us,” ryan urged, quite literally on the edge of his seat.

“yes, we got back together,” the brunette finally said which made both of the boys jump up in joy.

“i knew it! i knew it! i knew you’d get back together!” gabe pointed a finger and reveled in predicting that the trip would fix everything.

“how’d it happen? did he talk you up? did you guys have like..make up sex?” the two boys snickered like they were 12 and sharing secrets. samy rolled her eyes again.

“he just..asked me to dinner and i said yes and then we talked some more and then it kind of led to us..kissing back at his place..and yeah..maybe some..other stuff,” the soccer player flushed a deep crimson.

“aww, look at you two go! i knew it’d all work out,” gabe nudged her arm with a smile that his friends were no longer fighting anymore.

“we’re still..working things out but yeah. it feels nice,” samy agreed.

“well, yeah. it’s gonna take awhile to build back up to where you were, but at least it’s a start. you guys know where you stand with one another. i’m happy for you for you guys,” ryan grinned.

“and if he ever pulls that shit again, we’ll knock some sense into him, don’t worry,” gabe added making the girl giggle.

“it’s like i’m happy and scared at the same time, does that make sense? or is that stupid? i’m happy we’re back together, but i guess i’m still scared it’s gonna all fall apart again,” samy bit her lip as her ruminating set in again. she ruminated the entire plane ride back which definitely wasn’t healthy, but she couldn’t really help the other side of the what ifs.

“it’s not stupid. you’re valid for having fears still. he broke your trust and your heart. that’s not something that can just be like forgotten. it’s gonna be a long road, but will really wants this to work again and i know you do too,” ryan quickly reassured and gabe nodded in agreement.

“the whole distance thing literally sucks because it’s like..we spent freshman year in long distance and the summer we get to finally actually be together we break up and now we’re back to doing long distance without any time to like really be together, you know?” now samy was just rambling at this point.

“long distance is not easy, but i also think it helps you both grow as people outside of one another and the relationship. plus, we’re always here too if you need anything. not in michigan, but boston is a lot closer than california and you know we’d drop everything for you if you did need it,” ryan continued and samy’s heart warmed hearing them say that.

“yeah, we got your back, hughesy, don’t worry. and no we’re not just saying this because you’re will’s girlfriend, like we actually mean it. you’re our friend too and we care about you,” gabe said. the youngest hughes flushed and wondered how she met hockey boys like this.

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typicalopposite · 21 hours ago

Text

and for my last mpreg update here is chapter one of the Omega Tommy fic!

rejected

chapter one: sick over you

(also posted on ao3)

The rain is pouring down, and with the tears flooding from his eyes Tommy can barely see the road ahead of him as he speeds away from Evan’s apartment building. Perhaps coming by unannounced had been stupid. Even still, he hadn’t expected… that to be the reaction he received. Not that he doesn’t think it’s the reaction he deserves, but to hear Evan’s voice— raised in anger and filled with disgust— tell him to get out of his life; it hurt in a way nothing has ever hurt him before.

He feels numb.

Numb like he felt at his mother’s funeral. Numb like he felt every time his father lifted a hand to him. Numb like he felt when some random alpha made an off handed comment in his direction. Numb like he felt when came home and caught Liam— his ex-mate… the one he’d thought was his true mate— in bed with another. Numb like he felt when their bond had broken; Liam had gotten them pregnant, that creates a stronger bond than any mere mating bite ever could… Another had given Liam what Tommy had longed to— what Tommy has always longed for… but was told he could never have.

The tears come harder; the rain picks up.

He had been told he would never carry a child of his own. It was not meant to be. Liam had held him as he cried, at least until he got Tommy home… Then his anger reared its head. Useless! That's what he had called Tommy. A disgrace.

Broken…

“Guess I’m not so broken after all,” Tommy laughs out loud. The words are bitter… their meaning heavy. Too heavy. Tommy fears it might be crushed by their weight.

Two days ago he couldn’t shake the feeling any longer. 40 years and he has never missed a heat. 40 years and he has never felt so sluggish and off. He knew well before the doctor confirmed it. “Congratulations, Mr. Kinard… you’re pregnant.”

He sat with those words for two whole days; mulling over what he should do.

He knew what he had to do. He was just unsure of how to do it. He had left, after all. He told Evan they were through and ran away before Evan could get too close… oh how Tommy had wanted to let Evan get close anyway. He hadn’t felt a pull towards anyone since he lost his bond with Liam… Then he met Evan.

The pull he felt towards Evan was so much stronger than anything he’d ever felt towards Liam. It was so powerful, so intense, so real… Too real… and he had to break it before Evan wanted something more… something he couldn’t give him.

Except he could… it seems.

So he had to swallow his pride— and his fear— and he had to tell him.

He decided he would go beg Evan’s forgiveness, then tell him the news, and hope it would be enough. He hoped Evan could forgive him, and would love him despite his actions. He hoped Evan could love him like he knew Evan would love their child.

But Evan didn’t give him a chance to speak…

“No,” he’d said, eyes red rimmed and misty like he’d been crying some time before Tommy showed up at his door. “No. I get to talk now.” Tommy gave a sharp nod and let Evan talk. Boy, did Evan talk. “You don’t get to disappear from my life, then just show back up and cry your way back into it Tommy.”

“I- I wasn’t…” Tommy tried, but Evan shot him an angry glare and his mouth snapped shut.

“I wanted a future with you,” Evan said. “I saw a future with you… and you left. You— You didn’t even give me a good reason… you just left. You didn’t care about how that would make me feel, all you cared about was how you didn’t want me to make you feel, in some unforeseen future you decided— on your own— that we were heading towards. Do you know how long I spiraled because of that?”

Tommy stared at him, knowing he must look like a deer in headlights— he honestly hadn’t expected to learn Evan had spiraled from the break up at all. Been sad, sure, moped around for a short while, maybe… but to know he spiraled… over Tommy? He cared that much for Tommy? “Evan, if you would just let me explain—”

“I waited, Tommy…” Evan interjects. “For months, I waited. You bubbled me and I—” he scoffs, wiping roughly at one eye as a tear slips free. “I held on to hope you would finally just send the damn message. Or call. Or— I don’t know— do something. But you didn’t.”

Tommy hung his head. “I know…” he said softly. “I— I’m sorry. But… I’m— I’m here now…”

“Now?” Evan huffed out a sarcastic laugh. “Now… is too late.”

Tommy heard the words, but they did register until Evan asked him to leave. “L- Leave?” Tommy felt his bottom lip trembling, his heart began to race.

“Yes, Tommy. Leave. Please.”

“B- But I— I have to tell you…”

“Dammit Tommy, I don’t care, okay?” Tommy flinches at the rise in Evan’s voice. “You had your chance to come around. You didn’t. I said it’s too late, I meant it. So go... Leave.”

Tommy blinked. He was… shocked? No, not really… Hurt? Well he did it to himself, didn’t he.

Rain pelts against the windshield; his wipers, even on full blast, can’t keep up. His tears haven’t stopped flowing since he— partially lost in a daze— backed out of Evan’s loft, turned and bolted towards the elevator. The sound of the door slamming caused him to jolt as he frantically pressed the button. He hits a pocket of water and the truck hydroplanes. It doesn’t scare him in and of itself, he knows how to control his vehicle, but it’s enough to make him pull over and either calm down or wait out the storm.

With his truck safely stopped, he allows himself to cry. The cries quickly turn to sobs, and the sobs get stronger and louder until he is screaming at the top of his lungs. He is slinging his fists like a mad man, bringing them down against the steering wheel until he knows there will be bruises left behind— until he thinks he might have broken one of his pinkies… It throbs and has a large lump poking out the side.

Only then does he stop, and just sit there, his hands sore and laid gently in his lap. He sobs until he has nothing left in him to cry out.

Evan doesn’t want him.

Evan doesn’t want him… anymore.

Evan wanted a future with him and Tommy ruined it. He ruined it… ruined it… ruined it. Now he will be alone. Evan will love their child… of course he will. He is not a cruel person, regardless of how bad his words hurt… they were well deserved. But Tommy knows he won’t take his anger out on their child.

But he won’t love Tommy.

Tommy will be alone… like it was always meant to be.

He inhales and feels it— the moment something inside him breaks; his heart, perhaps. It lies broken inside him oozing out a sickening feeling throughout his entire body. He feels alone. He feels unloved.

He feels… rejected.

The rain is pouring down and Tommy hates flying when he’s not the one at the controls. Every turbulence sends a wave of nausea through him— it doesn’t help that he is constantly nauseous anyway. He closes the shade over the window, squeezes his eyes shut, and tries to focus on breathing.

In… out… in… out… in—

“Sir,” a voice says; a hand touches his shoulder. The stewardess looks distressed as she leans over the empty seat to him. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine…” Tommy lies, and the look she gives him makes it apparent she knows that he is. He is clammy and sweaty. He is sure his face is flushed, his pupils dilated… He can only imagine how distressed his scent is. “I’ll be okay.” Eventually? Someday? Maybe? Probably not… the woman sighs and eventually leaves.

Have you recently separated from your mate?

The question echoes in his memory… takes him back to days of constant sickness; unable to hold anything down and coupled with extreme fatigue— he could barely even keep his eyes open… Lucy told him if he didn’t go to the doctor she was going to drag him in by his ears.

“My- My mate?” Tommy had responded to the question, not completely, but just confused enough that the doctor would have automatically assumed that just because he was pregnant that he was also mated. “I don’t have one.”

His doctor— the same old crotchety man he’s seen since his adolescence— peered up at him over his glasses, then down at his midsection. He was only barely showing, but Tommy’s hand still instinctively found its way to the spot their baby was nestled. “You seem pretty mated to me,” he responded, waiting for a beat then continuing with, “Is the other parent not involved with the pregnancy?”

Tommy stared at him long enough he didn’t need to answer.

“Mr. Kinard, this is not extreme morning sickness you’re experiencing. It’s rejection sickness.”

“R- Rejection… sickness— but I’m not—”

“Mated. Yes. I understand you believe that,” the doctor interjected, sounding slightly annoyed. “However, your body is saying— screaming, really— quite the opposite.”

The plane shakes and drops in the sky and Tommy tries to ignore it by thinking of the pamphlet tucked away in his luggage.

A nurse had handed it to him before he left the office. “Doctor Pate circled some groups you can reach out to for help.” She had said, pushing the folded paper into Tommy’s hand. “Although your best option is to just return to your mate.” She made it seem so simple. She had no idea how much it was anything but simple. He thanked her anyway and walked out.

Two weeks later and he wasn’t getting any better. He could barely even get out of bed. The pamphlet sat on his bedside table staring at him— mocking him.

“Maybe you should just… call him,” Lucy had suggested. Tommy groaned and shook his head, burrowing into his pillow. He heard stories of omegas getting the urge to make nests during their pregnancies. A safe space for them to cocoon inside as their bodies changed and grew the new precious life. He hadn’t had the urge to do much of anything other than sleep… and wallow. “Tommy you’re scaring me,” she said, shoving him gently so he would look up at her. “If this is rejection—”

“It’s not.” It can’t be… he thought; he hoped.

Lucy glared at him, but the anger faded quickly. She seemed to be as exhausted as Tommy felt. “But if it is… Tommy, people die from this! It’s serious.”

“Don’t you think I know that, Luce!” Tommy managed to snap back. “What am I supposed to do about it! He doesn’t want me!”

Unwanted.

Unloved.

Rejected.

Maybe if he kept denying it… his body would get the memo and it would just… go away, even if he knew deep down that it wouldn't work, and the doctor was right. Evan was his mate… Bound to him by the tiny life now struggling to survive inside his broken diseased body. Evan was his mate, but he would never truly be Tommy’s; he didn’t want to be.

The thought curdled inside him and the sour feeling spread throughout.

The plane shakes and Lucy plops back down in her seat. “Thank god we’re almost there,” she sighs. “Fucking hate flying as a passenger.” Tommy does his best to react; he gives the weakest laugh. She doesn’t point it out, just rests her hand on his where he’s gripping the arm rest and they ride out the turbulence together.

Lucy had been the one to suggest the trip.

After another doctor visit, where Tommy had only shown signs of getting worse: loss in appetite, in weight, he was even losing hair. The doctor urged Tommy to reach out to his mate and Tommy finally explained the situation in its entirety. This led to the doctor giving them a major hurdle in the very definite diagnosis of mate rejection… That it no longer mattered if he called and informed Evan about the baby. His condition was so severe, if Evan truly meant what he said when sent Tommy away— if he had truly moved on and no longer wanted to be with Tommy, accepting the child would do nothing for the sickness.

“Well we have to do something,” Lucy had said frantically. The doctor had left them with a very bleak outlook. One Tommy accepted all too easily, while Lucy refused to accept at all. She still believed going to Evan would work— she believed he was upset, and hadn’t meant what he said at all. Tommy did not believe that at all, and made her promise she wouldn’t tell him; she agreed on one condition.

“Yea’llo,” Sal had said through the phone, and despite the heavy pout Tommy wore from being forced to call his best friend for assistance with his… situation, he smiled. He let Lucy explain, but he made her lie about who the alpha father was. (Lucy was easy to convince to keep a level head about the baby, and the Evan of it all… Sal would not be… if he could be kept level headed about it in the first place— which, probably not.)

They told Sal it was a one night stand… Tommy had no idea who the alpha was, or how to get up with him… Sal gave his spiel; he called Tommy a dumbass, then retracted it with kind words and promised to do whatever he can to help. There was never a question of whether Tommy could go to Sal’s or not, so across the US they went.

This plan might not work. Lucy knows that… Sal knows that… Tommy knows that. In the pamphlets, it says that while it’s best to be reunited with their alpha in the case of an omega with rejection sickness, being around another alpha has been proven to help tremendously, especially one with a close bond to the omega. Lucy is a beta… she has always been so happy about the freedom that comes with it… until now.

Sal, however, is an alpha, and the two have been best friends for as long as Tommy can remember; even when Sal and his family moved out to Virginia so he could finally get his chance at a captain’s position, they remained extremely close: visits on holidays, birthdays, or just because… Sal’s family adores Tommy. Plus being around Gina (another Omega) and the kids will likely help with the rejection sickness as well.

Tommy feels woozy as Lucy helps him through the boarding bridge, but that can be attributed mostly to the very rough— very long— flight. He collapses down into the first seat he sees, and lets his head fall into his hands. “I’ll call Sal,” Lucy says, but before she can, what sounds like a stampede is running towards them.

“Uncle Tommy! Uncle Tommy!!” The familiar little voices pull a smile to his face despite how awful he’s feeling. He forces his head up to see SJ and Gino coming at him like a couple missiles. Seeing two of his favorite little people makes it easy enough to smile past how rotten he feels and his arms immediately open to them; he ‘oofs’ when they ultimately collide with him.

“Easy you two!” Sal scolds them when he finally catches up.

“Sorry,” they both say, dipping their heads. “Uncle Tommy, Mama says you have a baby in your belly,” Gino continues, eyes wide and curious. “Is that true?” Tommy laughs weakly, and nods. “How did it get in there!?”

“His alpha put it there!” SJ answers while Tommy panickedly looks to Sal for help.

“Uncle Tommy has an alpha?!”

“Is the baby a boy or girl,” SJ asks, pivoting the direction of questioning.

“When will it be here!?”

“What are you going to name it!?”

“Alright, alright…” Sal groans, grabbing handfuls of the backs of both boys shirts and lifting them away from Tommy. They laugh and hold their arms out like they are flying as Sal swings them around and sets them down next to Lucy.

“Lucy!” They both excite run into her arms, nearly taking her down to the floor.

He tries to ignore the worried look Sal is giving him when he struggles to lift his head up enough to meet his best friend's eyes. “Where are the girls,” he asks, noticing the absence of Gina and their youngest, Tori.

“How do you think we would have gotten you back to the house if everyone came, stuck you in the back of the truck?” His sarcasm is even falling flat as he crosses his arms and furrows his brows down at Tommy.

“Thought Gina finally talked you into a minivan,” Tommy quips back.

“I’ll be damned if you ever see me in it…”

“Spoken like a true macho-macho man,” Lucy laughs, still wrestling with the boys.

They all laugh at that, until a wave of pain and nausea crashes over Tommy and he has to lean himself forward and close his eyes in an attempt to settle his stomach. He groans as softly as he can but even SJ and Gino go quiet after hearing it. “Are you okay Uncle Tommy…” SJ asks, pulling free from Lucy’s hold and walking back over to where Tommy is begging his body to calm the hell down.

“He will be,” Sal says, resting a hand on SJ’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get going,” he adds, extending his other hand out to Tommy.

He helps Tommy to his feet and his knees start to buckle the moment his full weight is put on them. “Whoa,” Lucy yelps, and hurries to his other side. “Uhm… maybe— maybe you should try… I don’t know— scenting… or something. See if it’s going to work or— or help.” Sal shrugs and looks to Tommy for him to make the decision.

Tommy hesitates, letting himself take in Sal’s scent at a distance first. He hates how much it is already working— how fast it is already working. He hates his stupid, weak, omega body for being so needy for it in the first place.

“Alright, go on,” Sal says, his smug smirk finally returning as he opens his arms to Tommy; it surprisingly helps Tommy calm down about it all. “Get a good whiff so you’re not all mopey, and stinking up the truck, on the ride back to the house!”

Tommy’s feet are moving before his brain even registers it, and he all but melts into the embrace; his nose quickly finds the scent gland and presses into it. It’s humiliating how his body forces him to draw in a deep breath. It’s also overwhelmingly relaxing, and the pins and needles he’s felt throughout his body all week almost instantly disappear. He feels a sob vibrating up and out of him before he can stop it, and he hears Lucy ushering the boys to go help her find Tommy’s luggage to give him a moment.

“What were you thinking, T…” Sal whispers, tightening his arms around Tommy’s shoulders.

“I wasn’t…” Tommy replies— and damn, isn’t that the truth…

Sal sighs, and pulls back to look at Tommy. His eyes are so full of worry, and maybe just a hint of anger… Thankfully it will only be towards Tommy for getting himself in this position, and not Evan for unknowingly putting him in it. “Let’s go home,” Sal says, and he has always referred to his home Tommy’s home… There have been plenty of times in their friendship Sal’s home was the only home Tommy had known. It soothes him a little more, and finally he has his bearings back enough to nod and follow Sal out of the airport.

The rain is pouring down and the baby is expected any day now.

In actuality, the baby isn’t due for a few more weeks… but as it stands, with Tommy’s sickness worsening by the day, his doctors don’t expect him to make it to his due date. He sits in his big comfy recliner, and stares out the window at the rain pelting against the ground, creating puddles in Sal and Gina’s front yard. Outside his room he can hear Sal stomping around pissily, gathering his bags and filling them with just enough for a trip to LA and back.

He wants to stop him… to run out of his room begging and pleading with Sal to not do this— it won’t help, it’s not fair— but he can’t. He slowly moves his eyes down to his body; it’s frail and pale and too weak to do much of anything beyond sitting in his big comfy recliner, and staring wistfully out the window.

It had been too good to be true that everything would turn out okay… too good to be true Evan could be left out of it until after the baby was born, like Tommy is sure he is going to want to be once he is told the truth. Of course good things and Tommy don’t mesh well, and he took a turn for the worse a month ago.

Up until then Tommy was doing fine. The sickness had almost subsided completely, he was on a temporary transfer to Virginia Beach Fire Department. He could even go as far as to say him and the baby were thriving.

Tommy started to let himself enjoy being pregnant. He loved feeling the baby kick against his hand as he told them stories, or sang them songs. He was growing more and more excited to become a papa, and when he had hard, sad days… he would be wrapped up by his family and allowed to soak in their love laced scents to get his mind back on track.

He didn’t need an alpha— he didn’t need his alpha… He had enough. It would be enough. He would be enough…

It almost was enough.

It started to snowball down a very steep hill when April rolled around…

Tommy walked into the kitchen, grabbing a strip of bacon from Sal’s plate— he snorted out a laugh as Sal grumpily swatted his hand away— Gina greeted him with a kiss to his cheek and allowed him to scoop Tori up from her arms. The routine calmness of the morning was interrupted when Sal mentioned it being a year since Tommy let Howie talk him into nearly losing his job to save Nash’s ass.

A whole year… since he met Evan.

Tommy stares out the window at the rain pouring down and combined with the tears filling his eyes he can barely see the Uber logo illuminated in the car windshield that comes to a stop outside the house. He hears his door creak open, and Sal’s scent fills the room as he steps inside. Tommy struggles to breathe it in and he misses the days it actually helped with the aches and pains coursing through his body, and the constant state of nausea he feels.

“Hey,” Sal says softly, pulling up a chair to Tommy’s side. He waits for Tommy to slowly turn his head and face him, an exhausted sigh escaping his lips. “Don’t look at me like that, T…” Sal says, and he reaches up to adjust the oxygen tube in Tommy’s nose, careful of the feeding tube also taped down to his cheek. Tommy can feel his lips tugging down, and he’s really not trying to make Sal feel bad— it hurts to see how much looking at Tommy like this clearly hurts Sal.

Sal blames himself, in a way… for Tommy getting worse. Unjustifiable as it might be, Tommy knows Sal does. He had come to his room that evening— after bringing up the reunion of the cruise ship disaster— and knocked gently. He apologized through the closed door for reopening that wound; he said he thought he’d gotten over the kid, he talked about him so rarely. But Sal hadn’t known the truth behind Tommy’s silence… and that’s on Tommy.

“Come on man, can you please open the door?” Sal had said, and he sounded so broken up. Tommy forced himself up and out of his self wallowing, dragging his feet to the door to open it.

He was able to fake it for just a few days. Then the sickness took hold and Tommy stopped eating. He stopped sleeping… He stopped talking. He began feeling himself disassociating from the pregnancy: the kick’s brought him anguish instead of joy, the thought of giving birth to his child was overpowered by the reminder it was also Evan’s child… and Evan no longer wanted him.

Evan had rejected him.

His alpha had rejected him.

His mate had rejected him.

The sickness spread so quickly no one— even the doctors— knew how to combat it.

“I don’t understand…” he had heard Sal say outside his room. Lucy had flown in when Gina had called to inform her things had taken a turn for the worse, and now they were out there going back and forth about his condition. Tommy laid in his bed, hooked up to all kinds of machines trying desperately to keep him alive, and listened, unable to intervene or contribute at all. “He was getting better… then suddenly he’s in his feelings about that damned Buckley kid and—” Tommy listened as Sal sighed, long and deep and frustrated. “Son of a bitch…”

“Sal—” Gina said softly, quietly… but Tommy heard her anyway.

“Does he know…” Sal asked; Lucy didn’t respond… “What the fuck T…” Sal groaned, and Tommy stopped trying to hear the rest of the conversation. He let his eyes fall closed and allowed exhaustion to pull him into a very restless sleep.

The outlook was so bleak. Lucy had sat beside his bed and cried as she tried to get him to eat some jello. Sal grew angrier and angrier with the situation. The younger of the kids stopped being allowed in to see him; his appearance was so haggard and ghastly it had frightened Tori and Gino… SJ chose to stop coming in on his own; he couldn’t stand to see his Uncle Tommy waste away, he’d told his mother.

Tommy hated himself for causing the people he cared about so much despair.

He’s pretty sure he can even pinpoint the exact moment in it all that he pushed Sal to make the decision to go get Evan.

The night nurse hadn’t arrived yet and Tommy’s bedding needed to be changed. He tried to plead with Gina to wait— to not call Sal in to help. I’m fine, he thought… but could not force the words to come out no matter how hard he tried. He could do no more than grunt and weep, then finally just give up and let it happen. Tommy turned his eyes away, and tried to pretend he didn’t hear them both gasp at seeing him fully exposed.

“I’m going to get that little shit and bring him here,” he heard Sal tell Gina and Lucy; no hesitation in his voice, he was very clear actually.

“What if he refuses to come back with you…” Lucy countered.

“Oh that’s not going to be an issue,” Sal stated very matter of factly and Tommy felt a tear slide down his face. Neither woman seemed willing to argue further, and that was that.

Now, Tommy stares at Sal tiredly. He really wishes he could convey how much he doesn’t want him to do this. It’s not fair to Evan, Tommy thinks. It’s not his fault, he didn’t know… He blinks and the tears fall; Sal quickly swipes them away.

“Don’t worry, you big softie… I won’t hurt him… too bad,” That gets a genuine laugh from Tommy, albeit weak. “Believe it or not I care about your hard headed ass, and don’t plan on losing you; so what good is he gonna do me in helping keep you around, if he’s dead…” Tommy gives a slow weak nod, and Sal cups the back of his neck helping him hold his head steady. “We’re gonna get you through this, okay?”

Another nod, and Sal pats Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy watches him stand and walk to the door, notes how he quickly wipes a hand over his face before turning back towards him. He smiles and waves and Tommy uses the very limited amount of energy he has to do the same. Then Sal’s gone, and Tommy’s alone with his thoughts.

He looks back out the window and watches Sal walk off the porch, turning to pull Gina into his arms— into a deep, passionate kiss— one more time. Tommy wishes he had that connection with someone— not someone… Evan. God he misses him.

He feels the baby shift, and move, and brings his hand up to rest atop the taut bump. He is so tired, and as he slowly slips into unconsciousness… he just hopes Sal is right. He hopes bringing Evan actually works.

He hopes he has the strength to make it through if it doesn’t.

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #lucy donato #sal deluca #mpreg #bucktommy mpreg #omegaverse #omega tommy kinard #pregnant tommy kinard #alpha evan buckley

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