I JUST HAD to collage ot8 for comeback day! i’m in LOVE with the whole album, it might be my favorite of theirs yet! my fav song is way out, but back then isn’t far behind :) it’s been impossible for me to rank them though, since they’re all SUCH bangers 🙂↕️
I do not own or take credit for any of the images used. Reblogs are greatly appreciated :) but PLEASE DO NOT repost or edit my collages on tumblr or other platforms! All of my collages are made on Pinterest (@/cosmicluvrrr)
divider creds: @strangergraphics
taglist: @velocityyx @platypusundercover @catgirl-yeji @thebibleophile @shipwithnocaptain // wanna be tagged when i post a new collage? lmk! :)
Uhhhhhhhh idk ill say earth cause thats what piastri would say
@seungmin-in-the-car @imnotsupposedtobedoingthis @katastrophical-queeeeeen @matchaafterhours @cosmicluvrrrrr + mika but i already pinged her + open tags
@velocityyx ty for the tag even tho I’m not ur fave Ilya I guess 🙄 /dramatic
1) YOU CANNOT MAKE ME CHOOSE literally I would have to ping stayblr staff racha and some other friends I made on here or on other platforms along the way I gen cannot choose
2) I love a good blue and orange combo ngl or a good yellow and green
3) my fave planets are B-612 (technically it is an asteroid but I am insufferable and love to bring it up) and also TRAPPIST-1e as it is very far but very similar to our planet and it is so cool
Pairing: Bang Chan x Female Reader | Stray Kids & Female Reader
Fandom: Stray Kids
Tags/Warnings: Fluff, tiny bit of angst, jealousy???, slow burn for SURE, sorry not sorry
Chapter Summary:
The night just won't end, and you really don't want it to. You spend just the last bit of your day with your favorite person, all the while struggling with the oath you made to yourself a long time ago.
Key:
“Italics in quotes” = Speaking in Korean/different language.
Full sentences in just Italics = Readers personal thoughts.
Hana — HON-NUH
Notes:
So…we're back??
Y'all have no idea how guilty I've felt for putting this off for so long 😭 I was really sick for a while, and going through some stress, that I really had no motivation until now. But I'm so glad I'm back!
WERE BACK BABY
🩵 Ordinary — Alex Warren
Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12?
Part 11
While you have been a fan of Stray Kids, its not enough to make you remember every single detail of them. To be honest, you found that a bit creepy, knowing every little thing. However, you suppose if its something the group shares to the world, fans are bound to keep it close to their hearts to show that they care. So, when you found out that Vanilla is Christopher's favorite ice cream flavor, you actually weren't too surprised. It's basic and has just enough sweetness to not be overboard, something that seems to represent him quite a bit.
The two of you just sat on a bench outside of the shop together, ice cream cones in hand. Christopher paid, of course, not giving you a chance to pull your wallet out. He was pretty quick to give you the 'I invited you so I'll pay' claim. Knowing you couldn't argue with him, you let him do what he wanted. At this point, you're starting to learn more and more what Christopher is like as a friend…someone outside of the K-Pop industry.
The internet is a two-faced creature, you like to think. With people not having to show their true selves, they can easily lie to the world as though it didn't have any consequences. You can lie about yourself, or lie about others. In the K-Pop industry, some stars have lied to the world about themselves just to keep up their reputation. Showing themselves to be the nicest and understanding person on camera, but soon be cruel and greedy behind the scenes.
When you first found Stray Kids on the internet, you had an inkling deep down that these guys weren't faking anything. They just seemed way too genuine, did things that most didn't even on screen, that made you think that they were pure souls. And that only proved you were right when you finally met Christopher at your job.
You admire him so much, you hadn't realized that this simple 'fan crush' you have for him was much deeper. Which is why it hurts more and more each day, no matter how many times you tell yourself it's fine. That it was for the best. That this man, this amazing idol, would marry his job if he could.
Maybe…maybe you should focus on Hwan's crush on you, instead…?
"So," Christopher's voice breaks the comfortable silence, grabbing your attention. You didn't know you had just suddenly gone in the zone, so far deep in your thoughts, that your cone was practically half gone already. "You said you hung out with Hana, right? And a college friend?" He asks curiously, probably just trying to start a conversation, but also wanting to know more about your day. "What did you guys do?"
A warm smile graces your features, heart completely full of happiness from the day with your friends. "Yeah, Hana and Hwan. I met Hwan in college. We share a class, so we'd hang out often at the coffee shop on campus to study together or something. He's been helping me with my Korean writing, too." You tell him honestly, dropping your hand to your lap to let it relax for a bit, since you've been holding the ice cream cone to your face for a bit. You make sure not to tip it or anything. "I wanted to introduce Hana and Hwan, so we all met up at a café. It was kind of awkward—well, okay, it was really awkward, because Hana did not hesitate to show that she didn't like him at all. Which, I get it, I guess. From the whole Karaoke thing."
You shrug with that last comment, not noticing the small frown on Christopher's face as you do. He takes one more bite of his half-eaten ice cream cone before resting his arm on his lap like you, giving you his full attention. Even though you told Hwan about the incident earlier, you have to admit that you've been coping more and more with it.
"She was just being protective. But I eventually got them talking, and they found a similar interest. I think…the game was like…Kenshin Impact or something?"
The laugh that escapes Christopher pauses your story, and your cheeks flush lightly as you look at him. It was light and airy, like a giggle, and he waves his hand at you in defense. "Sorry, sorry—it's called Genshin Impact. You were close."
You snort, humming in realization. "Oh! Oops, my bad. It was talked about so much today between them, and I said it earlier, too! Wait…" you pause, narrowing your eyes at no particular spot on the ground beneath your feet as you think this over, "Oh, God…did I say it right earlier?"
Again, Christopher laughs, but you fall along with him. The embarrassment you had for messing up in front of him was small, barely there, because with him…with him, you don't feel like he thinks of you any less if you mess up on something like that.
"Anyway," you continue, finishing up the last bit of your ice cream before it melts completely, "They became friends, I think, because of that game. Talking about it a lot. And we were there for like hours! But then we left it and kind of just…walked. That's when we found a park, deciding to hang out there for a bit longer, swinging and stuff. it was fun."
When you glance at your idol, now done with your story, you were a little surprised he was staring right at you. Eyes soft and concentrated, with a small relaxed smile on his face. You felt….seen.
"That's good," he hums thoughtfully, finally breaking his gaze from you, "I'm glad. It sounded like a lot of fun."
You nod, not really sure what else to say. Leaning back against the bench, your gaze roams your semi-dark surroundings. It's starting to get pretty late, but you didn't mind at all. You didn't want this moment to end with him, even though it’s going against your oath of keeping your distance.
"Hwan, was it?" Christopher speaks up again, and you turn to him almost too quickly to show that you were listening. Once you nod in reply, you catch him stroking his chin, the smile fading to a look of deep thought. "He's a guy? Like, uh…" he pauses, almost as though he just realized how weird that sounded. "Is he the only friend you've made from school?"
As soon as that sentence is spoken aloud, you notice how sad that really sounded for you. You nod once more, chuckling sheepishly at the idea, albeit curious on why thats the one thing he took from your story. "Yeah. I don't know…I think I just struggle a lot at approaching people. And he was the one who came to me in class, honestly. He just…kinda sat right beside me—it startled me, too—and he just started talking to me. He's really nice, though. After the first day of meeting, he asked if I wanted to hang out and study together. And he offered to teach me to write Korean. Oh, and he spoke to me in English. I guess he was raised in America, so that was pretty cool."
You continue to ramble, not really noticing the way Christopher stiffens beside you. "Actually, it's finny because—" you let out a soft giggle, "Hana was telling me that she thinks Hwan likes me. Like…like-like me. Saying it was pretty obvious and stuff."
"Do you…like him?"
That question catches you a bit off guard, turning to Christopher with slightly widened eyes. He looked so…serious about his question, enough to make you wonder why he was so invested in this idea. The only thing you could think of was the way Hana reacted to Hwan at first, too. How she was so protective and rude because of what you experienced. Maybe thats what it is.
Hana teased you about the idea of you and Hwan earlier, saying you liked him and such when she talked about the obvious signs you clearly didn't notice. You feel your cheeks begin to warm up, and you shrug with a nervous giggle, "I-I don't know, to be honest. He's really sweet. Has been really kind to me from the start. And, um…I mean, it was mostly because Hana was intimidating him, but she kept asking him questions like, 'why are you friends with her?' Or something. And he gave this speech about…about how kind I am, and how much he cares about me. He said something about my emotional side—that I'm incredible because I can connect with people so easily."
Wow…that sounded way more cheesy when you say it out loud like that, and you rub the back of your neck in embarrassment. "A-Anyway, it was really sweet of him to say that stuff. That doesn't mean I like him or anything…" You let out a sigh, shoulders slumping the more you think about this. "I don't know…maybe I do…?"
Christopher shifts beside you, clearing his throat awkwardly as he finally breaks his gaze away from you once more. "He sounds nice," is all he really says, surprisingly. You…were hoping he'd say more, but that doesn't seem to be the case.
He then stands up, large hands smoothing down his hoodie as he does. "It's getting pretty late. I'll walk you home. It's nearby, isn't it?"
You blink up at him, watching the way he stuffs his hands in his pockets, looking around at your surroundings….as though…he were avoiding you. The air has suddenly gotten awkward, and you're not sure if you're the reason why. Did…you say something wrong?
"Uh…sure. Yeah, it's close."
Luckily, conversation flows between you two as you walk side by side. He's quick to be on the side closest to the semi-busy street, cars passing off and on. It was cute…how protective he is, even if he doesn't realize it.
"How have you been lately?" You ask him, glancing over and up at him as you two walk. It may be dark outside, but the florescent lights from the shops and restaurants you pass light up your path pretty easily. It frames his face, despite the hood being up, shadows dancing this way and that. "Sleeping okay?"
Christopher gives you one of his special reassured smiles, chuckling quietly to himself. "Yeah. I'm keeping my promise, I swear."
You shake your head in amusement, but you can't really tell if he's lying to you or not. You're sure, however, that he isn't the type to break promises. "Well, that's good. I'm glad."
He hums, "The other guys want to meet you, by the way."
"Huh?" You almost trip over your feet, staring up at him in such surprise, it makes him giggle. "Really? Wait…do you talk about me or something?" You know you're close with Christopher, given you're friends and all, but you really didn't expect him to talk about you to the other Stray Kids members. The members, who are like his brothers. Although, you can't forget you met two of them already, the rest of 3Racha.
"Sometimes," he admits sheepishly with a shrug, avoiding eye contact. "Jisung and Changbin talked about you the first chance they got. And the others had mentioned they recall seeing you around the JYP building from time to time."
You suppose that makes sense, since you're a housekeeper who moves around the building a lot. The two floors you clean, anyway. And with their reputation of working pretty late in the night, you're not surprised they were around when you were, too.
"Oh…well…" you feel your cheeks warm up, excitement bubbling in your chest at the idea of meeting the others. "That'd be really cool. I've always wanted to meet them all. It was cool to meet Han and Changbin that day. They were really nice."
"Yeah, they thought you were great. They keep bothering me to invite you to meals and stuff."
You couldn't help but to blink at that, a little puzzled. Maybe he's just been so busy to do so, but you wonder why he never did invite you again to meals with them, especially if they asked him to. Not that he has to, and it doesn't bother you that much. You just wish he would have invited you more.
Keep your distance. Keep your distance…
With a shrug, you push those thoughts to the back of your mind. Deciding it best not to dwell on it too much. It was for the best, that he didn't invite you too often, anyway. And knowing that he didn't…maybe that's a sign that there really isn't a chance with him in the end.
☆ Another week passes peacefully, the boys have been busy! We enjoy seeing everyone’s reblogs into the community. You’re art, your fics. All of it! ☆
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TAG YOUR MOOTS AND MAKE THEM EXPLAIN THEIR USERNAMES LORE
Starting with me:
Hyyl18 because when i was youngest i had a group in a random app with some friends and i didnt knew qhat username to use so i decided to create one with things i used to read since we were talking abt fanfic in this group so: Hot Yaoi Yuri Lemon +18 stuff (i was in my dirty era dont dare to judge me). Hyyl18 thats it. Now i use it everywhere yay
@patroclus-is-the-bigger-person @b4rty-r0s13r-w1ll-fck-y0ur-m0m @cuntyteardrop @glassesgirlies @leninthestarlight @bardorsomethinglikethat anyone else who wanna join tbh yay
so I was just finished with reading song of achilles, highly recommend, made me sob, and achilles pissed me off, like the pride was mental, so I thought that patroclus, my king, deserved some well deserved love and appreciation. The bigger person part is in no way at all a tribute to me because I am the petty bitch you will ever have the displeasure of coming across
basically bards are important in my book series, and that was inspired from the bard yaskier from the Witcher, and I feel like it was something he'd say about himself so I went with that.
'sunshine-snake' because "sunshine" i just decided oneday i was going to be my online name, and snake since i kind of make a hissing sound (that sounds like a snake) when i laugh sometimes :3
Hmmmmmmmmmmm Prob because in Roblox every one called me Violet but I added the Rosie because it was the name of my dog plushie that I lost in 4th grade and cookie because I like cookies so that's why I picked VioletRosieCookie :]
So my.first username was wendigoweirdo but someone told me that it was offensive to native American tribes so I changed it to willow weirdo. And then I just felt like adding the daydreamer because that's was I am :3
back when my username was @/pipermcleandaugterofaphrodite, I saw a post by a Cherokee person talking about how much they hate Piper and that she's not representation because she's stereotypes with legs (fair enough). I'm white, so I have no right to have myself connected to people my ancestors hurt, so I changed my user to what it is now because I'm also Evangeline Fox fictionkin
alright so my first username was skzfangirl143 because i was a skz ult back then and 143 from their song case 143 !! eventually i started stanning more groups and realized SKZfangirl143 didn't cover it so i changed it to written-by-music because i do spend a lot of time listening to music and a lot of the time music and my mood do correlate!
tags: @ivoraaahills @swirled-with-ink @slut-for-han-jisung @heroz-zz @zawranq @atetheluck @phiapiled @phaelusion @randomfriendlyloser @soda-sprite + all of my other moots!
i used to be 'grape-soda-and-impish-behaviour' because i was drinking grape soda a lot and one of my main ocs at the time was called imp then i deactivated and came back as 'soda-imp' cause it was shorter yet still matched my purple theme and mood ^^
and then i changed it to 'soda-sprite' because my theme was sort of greenish with a fairycore vibe to it and my mood was more 'spritely' but i still liked soda and also still wanted to be recognisable to my moots so i kept the soda bit and i haven't changed it since!! :D
i've been thinking of changing it to soda-pop [what some of my moots call me and also the 'pop' bit matches my party theme] though... unsure! :]
Okay, so my real username wasn't actually supposed to be potatoanarchist, I made that up on a whim and I have a mind to change it. It was supposed to be Xaosix, and for a very personal reason.
To keep it as simple as possible for you, someone I knew died a while back. I had known them for my entire life--seriously, they were around since I was a baby. We had a nickname for them and that's why the six that's apart of my username. I'm not specifying what the nickname was.
The other part of my username is a reference to my mom's name. No, her name doesn't start with X. It starts with J, but I've decided to keep it as X to make a little XO sort of w/ the Xaosix. In case you can't see it
XaOsix
The XO is for both her and the person.
If I end up changing my user or online name twenty times and twenty times again, this is something that will always remain the same. It just...hits a bit different when people call me that instead of potato.
As for potatoanarchist...yeah, the reason is a tad sad, too. I've had this...mentality for the past few years that has proven to be incredibly detrimental. And I've always tried to get rid of it, like an anarchist would their government, but it's always felt too small. Like a potato. But then I smiled and got the idea that maybe I could make somebody smile with that username, a small thing ( a potato ) lightening their mood ( anarchist ). So I kept it.
You'll soon notice a lot of the decisions I make are born from personal experiences/ideas.
Deepest apologizes if this just depressed you and ruined the mood of this entire tag game 😭 extra sorry if you were already tagged I really don't know
Annabeth-Chase-Enjoyer : i enjoy anything Annabeth chase related…yes that it there’s no big story behind it..just that i really like Annabeth..anywho time to continue the chain !!
Mines a little simple. I really really really love fawns and bunnies and 011234 upside down kinda looks like ‘hello’ and I thought that was a little cool so yeah :D
ooh so i picked my url for 3 main reasons a) my old one sucked b) “blue hydrangea” is part of a lyric from old money which is one of my fav lana songs c) i really like hydrangeas as a flower, they’re so pretty!
My username is actually quite new. I really wanted something ethereal and angelic and I was singing a lot of church music at the time. One of the pieces we did had 'Seraphim' in the title and I thought it was so pretty, especially after doing more research. I wanted to change up the word a bit however and make it more 'username'-y so I swapped the m for an x and I love it. 'actuallyseraphix' came from the fact that seraphix is usually taken on most platforms and I think it rolls off the tongue nicely. I often go by Seri as well which is obviously a nickname for seraphix!
I wish my username had a more interesting story behind it but I used to be super invested in this maths challenge website that did these weekly puzzles (don't even start, that era is long behind me) and the number 1729 came up as it's apparently the smallest number that "can be expressed as the sum of two cubes in two different ways".
The technicalities went straight over my head and I thought the number itself was weirdly pretty, so it's been stuck on the end of the name of my favourite Christian singer 'Hollyn' ever since.
@thebibleophile @rosieposievip @sanfangzhu - hope you guys are alright with being tagged x
I am going to reblog this on my side blog @bibleosmusings
But my username has no crazy lore or anything like that. I’m a book junky. A reader/writer in the worst possible way lol I consume most of my content by books or fanfics.
The meaning of Bibleophile is simply a person that loves, admires, and collects books. I thought it was very fitting. And there use to be a book tuber I loved (she stopped posting videos) that used this word in her YouTube name so I decided to use it too.
..I also kind of find it hilarious when people assume the word has religious connotations. Or it’s read Bible - o - phile.
Anyway. Tags are @snow-flake-writes @ayedomino008 @encoredesires
Tags/Warnings: Heavy angst, slow burn but sped up, taken place sometime after Grace's death but not specific, pining, hardcore pining in Tommy's hardcore way, little bit of dark romance?, Tommy gets what he wants, happy ending
Part 2 Summary:
Polly seems to be far smarter than you had realized. She practically has you wrapped around her finger, moving the pieces on the chest board the way she likes. And for her little game, moving your pieces into Thomas’ home. Thomas Shelby let you go one…will he be able to do it again?
Notes:
Tbh I’m not the best at writing angst, so i hope it has been written well here lol. Just one more part after this, then I can get it out of my head! Hope y’all enjoy.
🎼 So Easy(To Fall In Love) — Olivia Dean
Part 1 | Part 2 | Finale?
So Easy To Fall In Love | Part 2
Polly was a woman most knew not to mess with. She has experience in both the illegal and legal world when it comes to business. She took in children once their parents died. She taught them well, helped them survive.
One thing about her was her way of executing her plans successfully, almost always. That glint of mischief and power in her gaze.
Now that you think about it, her plan was there, as bright as the light of day. Ever since she brought you into her family home for tea, talking on and on about the boys. About Thomas.
You weren't too sure why you were surprised when Polly asked you to live in Thomas' mansion, The Arrow House, and help take care of his boy, Charlie. It was out of nowhere, her sleek car driving to your farm to ask for that favor. Given your home wasn't just around a corner in Small Heath, this was clearly intentional.
"I have the farm to take care of," was the excuse you gave her. And it was true. After your father's passing recently, everything has fallen onto your shoulders to take care of.
"Charlie is grieving. He needs someone," Is what Polly counters with. You knew in that moment that she wouldn't budge from this.
"Tom has maids, don't he? They'll take care of the boy."
"Charlie doesn't like them," Polly says, "they struggle with him under their care."
You really couldn't help the roll of your eyes, almost feeling like a child again, annoyed by Polly's scolding. "What makes you think he'll calm around me? I've never met him!"
The look that Polly gives you was enough to make your shoulders slump in defeat. She didn't give you any sorrowful look to win you over. No, she had that stubborn look that told you enough she'd find a way to get you to help her nephew.
So you found yourself living in Thomas Shelby's mansion for at least two months. It wasn't as dreadful as you thought it'd be. With Thomas being as busy as he is, you imagined you'd hardly see him at all.
He didn't look too pleased to see you when you first arrived, although his expressions were always hard to read these days. As soon as the maid let you in, telling you to wait there while she looked for the man in charge of this home, you actually took your time looking around the place. It was huge, reminding you much of a counseling hall of some sorts. Far too big to just be a home, you thought. Large paintings decorated the walls, not very particular of the designs. Some were of horses, that much you weren't too surprised about. Some of scenery and the like.
While you aren't unaware of Thomas' father being someone who stole horses back in the day, and whatever else he had gotten himself into, you simply wonder how in the world Thomas Shelby had gotten to this point in life. How did he get so much wealth? So much power?
It has been quite some time since you have even contacted the Shelby family, so it only makes sense you don't know what they have been up to.
The sound of footsteps brings you back to reality, bringing your gaze up to the long hallway from the entryway you stood in. Thomas' shoes tap on the marble loudly, unforgiving with clear direction, with his maid right behind him. You watch the way Thomas marches towards you. His shoulders are square, back straight, and you aren't blind by the underarm gun holsters he wears, no blazer to hide them from you.
Once Thomas slows to a stop a couple feet away from you, his blue irises flick over your form. He says your name, quiet but acknowledging. "Didn't expect a visit from you," Thomas sighs, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets.
You shift your weight on your feet discretely, softly fidgeting with the purse in your hands. "Polly didn't tell you?"
The twitch in his brow doesn't go unnoticed, "Tell me what?"
Well, this made things a bit difficult. The fact that he's not aware of your visit, of you supposedly staying here to help watch his son, tells you enough that this conversation will be hard. With him not even consenting to the idea, you have a feeling he'll kick you out. The pay you gave to the driver going to waste.
"Polly said you needed someone to watch over your son," you say, a bit stiff. You could hardly look him in the eye.
The air between you goes quiet for a beat, the man staring at you as though you've said something incredibly stupid. "Watch over Charlie, eh?" He murmurs, taking a moment to pull out a cigarette case and put a white stick between his lips. The case clicks shut, shoved back in his pocket, and then a lighter is pulled out. You realize that this is him trying to busy himself, stall for time to let himself think. And once he takes a drag of the cigarette, deep and calm, he breaks the silence.
"I have maids for that."
You purse your lips, wondering if Thomas really didn't need someone to look after his son, as Polly had said. "Polly thinks your son needs…a mother figure," you hesitated, glancing away as you bring up a small intel of his late wife. "She said he has nightmares often. Screams and cries."
Thomas meets your gaze, pulling the cigarette from his lips, clenched between two fingers. Smoke swirls in the tense air. "Pol said that, did she?" By the tone of his voice, he sounds a bit surprised by the revelation, maybe a little annoyed that his aunt is making a decision for him without his consent. When you give him a small nod in response, he does so as well, as if to acknowledge the situation. "Right," he hums quietly, gesturing to your direction as he glances at his maid. "Frances, show her to a room. In the staff's quarters."
"Yes," Frances, the maid, bows her head in respect. "Come with me, miss."
Your gaze follows the older woman to the staircase sitting right there, but you don't move. Instead, you glance at the gun holsters under his arms. "Whatever do you need those for, Tom?" Your skin prickled at the mere thought of even asking, at what he'd answer. But you needed to know. If you're to live here for a bit, you need to know why he has the need to protect himself like this.
He only stares at you for a long moment, silently debating on what he should tell you. However, the words that come out of his mouth aren't what you expected.
"Make sure to show her Charlie's schedule, Frances."
Frances, waiting on the stairs, replies in a polite manner to Thomas, just as the man turns. The grip you had on your purse tightens, brows furrowing as you watch your childhood friend, the man you once loved, walk away so cruelly. Not so much as a word to catch up on life, like good old friends. Not so much as a smile or a relaxed posture around you.
Despite the ache in your heart, a part of you is glad he didn't answer your question.
Two months of living in the Arrow House wasn't so bad. Charlie was a wonderful boy. A bright kid who simply didn't understand the loss of life. He'd have nightmares, screaming for his mother. Nightmares of what, you aren't too sure. He didn't witness his mothers death, unlike Thomas. But, you were always there for him. Always there to pick him up, rub his back, and hush his cries to sleep.
It probably took a little more than two weeks to finally get a smile from Charlie. He had started to laugh, play with his toys enthusiastically. You'd bring him to the horses stable outside, finding yourself conversing with Johnny Dogs whenever he was there, taking care of the large animals. Johnny made you smile and laugh. Thomas doesn't.
The man of the house was something you hardly seen. Maybe a flicker of him down the hall, or hear his voice downstairs whenever he has visitors. But never once had you seen him at the dining table with his son, or him visit his boy to give him greetings.
However, whenever Frances had Charlie for a few moments, she tells you that Thomas had visited his son.
By the time the second month comes to an end, you had finally realized why Polly sent you here. It had suddenly occurred to you one day, while you sat in the rocking chair with Charlie in your lap, a book in your hands.
Why bring you here when the father of the boy hardly wishes to ever lay eyes on you? Why send you here to look after his son, when it seems to only distance the family?
This wasn't just for Charlie, the boy grieving for the loss of his mother at such a young age….it was for Thomas, as well. To mend his broken heart, pick up the pieces his late wife had left for him.
Polly was one smart woman, you had to admit. But you were smarter, catching on before you allowed your heart to ache in all of the right ways for the cruel man you once knew. Without hesitation, you packed your belongings, called for a cab to pick you up, and hurried out the door as soon as the vehicle arrived.
You may be smarter, but you certainly weren't fast enough.
"To Small Heath, as fast as you can—" you began to tell the driver, practically tossing your one suitcase in the backseat. But, as soon as you put your foot up in the vehicle, a yelp leaves your lips when a hand grabs your arm, pulling you back.
A wall of a man soon fills your vision, Thomas' back facing your way as he steps between you and the car. "Take this, and get the fuck out of here." He says harshly, tossing the driver a roll of bills before grabbing your suitcase from the seat and slamming the door shut.
"Wha—I—" You could hardly form words, shock written all over your face as the car drives off. You step forward, arms reached out as though you could grab onto the run-away vehicle and go along with it. But, instead, you grab Thomas' arm and pull him to turn towards you. "What the fuck, Tommy!" You scowl at him, shock now churned into anger.
Thomas doesn't flinch, turning to you with ease. His face is close to yours within seconds, making you flinch back. "Where do you think you're going, eh?"
You grit your teeth, standing your ground against him. This man was someone you knew since childhood. You remembered all of his awkward moments, all of the times he tripped into the mud while you all played on your family's farm. "Home, Tom! That's where I'm going."
Air comes out of his nose like a bull, lips pressed together in a thin line to hold back his true emotions. "You have no home to go to!" The shout surprises you more than it should. Thomas was always calm, calculative and smart in every way. But at this moment, you notice how much your actions has affected him. "Herald is dead, yeah? You can't pay off whatever dept he had, so the farm is gone."
The words, though, stung. You gasp quietly, taking a step back as you look at him in horror. How could he say that? How could he remind you of your fathers death in such a way, that it burrows into your very being. Yes, your father passed away recently, but you had every intention to take care of the farm by yourself, for as long as you could. You couldn't just…leave it behind.
Tears well of in the corners of your eyes, anger and sorrow mixed into one terrible concoction. "How could you say that to me, Tommy?" You say, tone wavering once the emotions begin to take over.
Thomas doesn't respond right away. He takes a step back, taking a deep breath as he runs his free hand down his face. Then, he walks away. With your suitcase in hand, he walks back to the mansion.
"Tom!" You call out angrily, rushing after him. You run through the double doors, seeing his form disappear up the stairs. You follow, but you're not as fast as the march in his step.
"Tommy!" You raise your voice this time, pure rage within your tone. But the man doesn't stop, simply heading down the long hallway without any hesitation. You step forward to catch up, to grab his arm again and scream at him, but instead you stop where you are.
"Thomas Shelby!"
That seems to have done the trick. The tense silence falls between you as soon as he freezes in his step, back turned to you, and your heavy pants fill the air. After a beat of it, you manage to pull yourself together. "You can't do this to me, Tom. You can't. What makes you think you have the right to keep me here, after everything you've done?!"
Your feet seem to move on their own, one after the other as you approach his back. "I don't belong here. I belong on the farm, watching the animals. Taking care of the house." The tears come back easily this time, blurring your vision and soon rolling down your cheeks.
Polly had sent you here to be the presence these grieving boys needed. But, who would be the presence for you? You were grieving, just as strong as they were, and Thomas was acting as though it hardly mattered. Using your loneliness as a way to keep you there to his advantage, to take care of his son.
Thomas is quiet, body stiff when you stand right behind him. When he finally turns around to face you, his expression held nothing. No anger, no sorrow….but his features had softened. "Charlie needs you."
You bristle, hands clenching into tight fists at your side. "No, Charlie needs you. He needs his father. Not some woman he's never met before, taking the place of a mother who is long gone!"
"Then why come here in the first place, eh?!" Thomas fights back, pointing a finger right at your face, before letting his arm fall back at his side.
"Because—" Because what? Because Polly told you to? Because you had empathy for the boy? For…Thomas? Despite everything he has done, making you feel as though you never mattered in the first place? Despite making you feel like a mere bug in his space, irritating him?
You honestly couldn't find the answer. You couldn't bring yourself to admit that you cared, after all this time. After everything. Yet, that seems to be enough for Thomas.
Thomas stares at you for a bit longer, looking over your tear-stricken face, damp cheeks glistening under the evening light trickling through the large windows. Then, he pulls back. He turns, continuing his journey down the hall.
You follow him reluctantly, unable to find anything else to yell at him for. Maybe you should finally ask him why he never contacted you when he returned from war. Why none of them did. But, for some reason, part of you doesn't want to know. Part of you believes that not knowing…might save any further heartbreak.
"Tommy, I'm serious. I need to watch the house. The animals—"
"Johnny Dogs' got it," Thomas replies. It almost startles you, taking you a moment to actually process what he just said. You don't know Johnny Dogs well, even though you have spoken to him a few times during your stay here. But, you're not exactly sure what he does, or how close he is to Thomas himself.
"Johnny?" You echo, trying to understand. You're even more confused when you notice Charlie's bedroom door, the both of you passing it. You're now towards the end of the hall, and you know that Thomas' bedroom is down there. What in the world is he thinking?
Thomas lets out a sigh, almost sounding tired from this whole ordeal. "Johnny's staying at your farm for the time being. He'll take care of the animals." While you are a bit relieved that someone was at your farm now, not having to worry about your friend having to spend their time taking care of the animals, Thomas' confidence and authority pisses you off.
Thomas finally slows to a stop, right in front of a door you've never noticed was there. You flick your gaze from left to right, seeing Charlie's room is next to this one, and Thomas' is on the other side of it. "This isn't my room, Tom," you tell him, but you knew that he knew that. For the past two months, you've been staying up in the staffs quarters, small rooms with a small bed.
But once the door is opened, revealing a room far bigger than you've ever seen, you absolutely knew this wasn't your place to be. The queen-size bed was covered in well-designed blankets, probably soft to the touch. Every furniture that a bedroom could possibly need sits along the walls. And a large window with a small cushioned cove.
"Well," Thomas leans down past the doorway, setting your suitcase just inside, "It is now."
You shake your head, deciding it best to argue with him on the room later, and focus on your home now. "I didn't give you permission to send Johnny to my farm. It's my responsibility, not yours or his. And—" You pause, brows furrowing when you remember what he said earlier. You can't pay off whatever dept he had, so the farm is gone.
You shift on your feet, tilting your head up at him, "You said the farm is gone."
"Yeh," he says nonchalantly, lighting the cigarette thats now between his lips. You hadn't noticed he pulled one out. "I bought it."
He bought it. If you were anyone else, they'd be delighted. They'd think its the most romantic thing a man could do, because it shows that he cares. But you aren't anyone else. You're you. His childhood friend, the woman he left behind for war and broke a promise to visit her after. Made her believe he perished in battle. Made her cry for days on end, then find out he was alive all that time, just never bothered to visit her.
This man…surely pisses you off to no end.
"You didn't," you murmur, completely in disbelief.
"I did," he nods, turning to look at her. You can see the confidence behind his eyes, uncaring if she approved it or not. "Your fathers dept was high. Something you wouldn't be able to pay. So, I bought it. I took care of it."
"I didn't give you permission to do that."
"No," he concedes, stuffing his hands in his pockets once more, cigarette sticking out from between his lips. "You didn't. And I don't care."
"Tommy," his name comes out of your mouth with restraint, venom laced behind every syllable. "What the fuck is wrong with you? All you do is lie. Lie and lie. Did you lie to Grace, too? Did you?" You're not sure where this anger was coming from. Talking about his late wife like this was cruel, putting in assumptions just to piss him off. But at this point, he has taken everything from you. Your dignity, your pride, your will of freedom.
What happens next moves almost in slow motion, but all in a blink of an eye at the same time. His hand slams against the wall right beside your head, making your back press up against it as he cages you in. His other hand pulls the lit cigarette from his frown, brows furrowed deeply. "Don't you fucking talk about my wife!" He grits out.
You can see the grief in his eyes. The shame and guilt burrowed so deep, it twists his heart. But, at this point…you have no more empathy to give to him. "I'm leaving, Tom," you whisper, the confidence you ever had earlier dwindling. Thomas Shelby can truly be intimidating.
"No, you're not," he counters, not giving you any space. Thomas brings up his hand with the cigarette, pointing a finger at your face as he speaks. "Charlie needs you, so you're going to stay. You're going to take care of him, like a mother would. If you leave this premises," your name leaves his lips like a growl, "I will burn down your farm. Do you understand?"
You inhale shakily, feeling the cigarette smoke sting your lungs. You're sure your eyes had widened like saucers, utterly shocked by the threat. "You wouldn't," you whimper, feeling the tears rush back up for the third time that day. He couldn't. He wouldn't, right? Thomas has done a lot to break your heart, to piss you off, but he wouldn't go as far as to burn down the last bit of your family you've ever had….right?
He doesn't say anything. Doesn't reassure you that this was all a jest, all to intimidate you. No, he pulls his hand from the wall, stepping back and taking a hefty drag of his cigarette. "Frances will watch Charlie for the rest of the day. I'll let her know you're staying on this floor, now."
With that, he walks away, down the long corridor to the grand staircase, and disappearing within the shadows of this home. You hadn't realized your body began to tremble. Your back slides against the wall, down to the floor…
And you let yourself cry in the emptiness of the hall.
Pairing: Vengeful Mafia Boss Chris x Traitor Fem!reader
WC: 5,128
TW: 18+, MDNI, Explicit sexual content, Power imbalance / possessive dynamics, Physical restraint/rough handling during intimacy, Sexual content in a confined/pressured context, Strong language / profanity, Crime/violence themes, Emotional intensity: guilt, betrayal, manipulation/abuse by a parent, trauma references, Humiliation/embarrassment (being walked in on during sex)
Synopsis: After a tense truce, Y/n finds themself slipping back into Chris’s orbit. Caught between the crew’s wary eyes and a pull neither of them can ignore.
AN: Hello my darling readers! I hope you all are doing alright! Part 12 and the upcoming 13 was and is proving to be very fun to write. I hope you enjoy it just as much as I do! Of course I have to drop a huge thank you to my bestie for the read over on this @snow-flake-writes . Make sure you all leave a comment! I genuinely want to hear your thoughts as things shift between characters and all the drama begins to come to a head.
Y/n's POV
The afternoon light streams through the windows of my room, bright and unforgiving, casting everything in sharp relief. Chris hasn’t left yet. His presence fills the small space like he's taking up all the air, all the oxygen, leaving me breathless in a way that has nothing to do with physical exertion.
We're sitting on the edge of the bed, not quite touching but close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off his skin. The silence between us is charged, heavy with everything we just said and did, everything we just admitted. His shirt is still on, but his hair is disheveled from my fingers, and there's a faint mark on his neck from where my lips were moments ago.
I can't quite look at him directly. The daylight is too honest, too revealing. It strips away the darkness that usually shields us, makes everything feel less real, less exposed. In the brightness, I can see the conflict written across his features...the war between what he wants and what he thinks he should do.
"I shouldn't be here," he says quietly, but he doesn't move. Doesn't make any effort to leave.
"But you are," I reply, my voice barely audible.
He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration or maybe just trying to ground himself. "The crew—"
"Is downstairs. Doing whatever it is they do." I shift slightly closer, and I see him tense. "We have time."
The word time hangs between us like a promise and a threat. Time is something we don't have. Time is something that's running out. But right now, in this moment, with the sun painting everything gold and the rest of the world feeling very far away, it feels like we might have just enough.
Chris's stomach growls, loud and sudden in the quiet room, and I can't help the small laugh that escapes me. It's such a human sound, so at odds with the intensity of everything else.
He looks almost embarrassed, which is somehow endearing on someone so dangerous. "When's the last time you ate?" he asks, deflecting.
"I don't know. Early this morning?" I realize I'm not actually sure. Time has become strange and slippery since he came to my room…since he stole me away to this place. "You?"
"Longer." He stands abruptly, like he needs to put distance between us before he does something he can't take back. But his hand finds mine, pulling me up with him. "Come on. We should eat something."
It's an excuse to leave this room, to break the spell that's been cast over us. But it's also practical, necessary. And maybe it's safer to be around other people right now, to have witnesses to the fact that we're not tearing each other apart.
He doesn't let go of my hand as we move toward the door.
The kitchen is brighter than I expect, all white marble and stainless steel catching the morning sun. It smells like coffee and something sweet—maybe cinnamon? When we walk in, I freeze. Changbin, Seungmin, and Felix are already there, sitting around the island with plates of food and mugs of coffee. The conversation dies instantly.
The silence is suffocating. Heavy. I can feel their eyes on me...assessing, judging, remembering everything I've done. Changbin's expression is carefully neutral. Seungmin looks away, focusing intently on his coffee. And Felix... Felix is watching me with kind eyes.
Chris's hand finds the small of my back, a subtle gesture of protection that doesn't go unnoticed. "Sit," he says quietly, guiding me toward a stool at the island.
I sit because I don't know what else to do. Because my legs feel weak and my heart is pounding too hard and I'm acutely aware that I'm surrounded by men who have every reason to want me dead.
Chris moves to the counter, pulling out bread and deli meat with practiced efficiency. The domesticity of it is jarring. Christopher Bahng, crime lord and killer, making me a sandwich in his kitchen while his crew watches in uncomfortable silence.
"So," Felix says suddenly, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "Sleep well?"
I look up sharply, expecting cruelty or sarcasm. But his expression is... kind. Almost teasing. Like he's talking to the girl he met five years ago at that bar, not the traitor who destroyed everything.
"I—" My voice catches. "Yeah. I did."
Felix grins, that familiar boyish smile that used to make me smile right back. "Good. You look less like a ghost today. More like an actual person."
Changbin snorts softly into his coffee, and I see the corner of Seungmin's mouth twitch. The tension doesn't disappear, but it... shifts. Becomes something slightly more bearable.
"Felix," Chris warns, but there's no real heat in it.
"What? I'm being nice." Felix takes a bite of toast, still grinning. "Remember nice, Chris? That thing you used to be before you became a brooding asshole?"
"Fuck off," Chris mutters, but I catch the ghost of a smile on his face as he sets a plate in front of me. Turkey and cheese on wheat, cut diagonally. Exactly how I used to like it.
My smile widens at the fact that he didn’t forget. "Thank you." I said softly.
He nods, his hand lingering on my shoulder for just a second too long before he moves to make his own sandwich. I take a bite, and it tastes like something close to normal. Like maybe, there's a version of this where I'm not just a prisoner, a tool, or a ghost haunting their lives.
Changbin clears his throat. "You know anything about the new security system Ruiz installed at the estate?"
It's a test, I know it is. But it's also an olive branch, an acknowledgment that I could maybe become one of them, that I might be more than just the girl who betrayed them.
"He upgraded to biometric scanners last year," I say carefully. "Fingerprint and retinal. But he kept the old keypad system as a backup. He doesn't trust technology completely."
Seungmin looks up, interest flickering in his eyes. "Backup codes?"
"Changed weekly. But he uses a pattern. Birth dates, anniversaries. He's sentimental in the worst ways."
They exchange glances, and I can see the gears turning. They're warming up to me, slowly, cautiously. But it's happening and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me excited.
Chris sits beside me, close enough that our thighs were touching; the guys instantly noticed. I see Felix's knowing smirk, Changbin's subtle nod, Seungmin's quick glance between us. They're seeing something different in Chris—something softer, more human. And they're not saying anything, but the silence speaks volumes.
We eat in a silence that's no longer quite so suffocating. For the first time since I was taken, I feel something that might almost be hope.
After breakfast, Chris takes my hand, fingers lacing through mine like it's the most natural thing in the world...and leads me outside for privacy from the many prying eyes lurking about the house. The beach stretches out before us, endless and grey under the overcast sky. The wind is cold, biting, but I don't care. I'm outside, I'm walking freely, with Chris beside me, not behind me, or in front, not guarding me either, just... with me.
We walk in silence for a while, our footsteps sinking in the sand. The waves crash rhythmically, filling the space between us with white noise that somehow makes it easier to think..to breathe.
"I'm sorry," I say finally, the words torn from somewhere deep inside me. "For everything. For what I did. For—"
"Don't." His voice is rough. "Not right now."
"But I need you to know—" I begin but he cuts me off.
"I know." He stops walking, turning to face me. The wind whips his hair across his forehead, his eyes are dark and intense and full. "I know you were trapped. I know he used you. I know you didn't have a choice. I remember everything you told me. You don’t have to repeat it."
"I did have a choice," I whisper. "I could have told you. I could have—", the words died in my throat as I looked away.
"And he would have killed you." Chris's jaw clenches as his dark eyes lift to look into mine. The light peaking through random breaks in the clouds makes them look almost chocolate brown. "Or worse. I know how your father operates, Y/n. I know what he's capable of."
The way he says it, with such certainty, such understanding, breaks something inside me. Tears burn my eyes, and I refuse to look at him, turning my entire body away from him to focus on the grey horizon.
"I loved you," I say, my voice barely audible over the wind. "I still—" I can't finish. Can't say it out loud because it feels too dangerous, too raw.
But Chris hears it anyway. I feel him walk up behind me, tugging me back to face him again. His hand comes up to cup my face, forcing me to look at him. "I know," he says again, and this time there's something almost like forgiveness in his voice. "I know."
We stand there, the wind howling around us, the ocean raging behind us, and for the first time in five years, I let myself believe that maybe we can survive this.
"What happens now?" I ask, wanting to know what we are doing with us…or is this it?
Chris's thumb traces my cheekbone, I see the conflict, the pain, the love hiding in the depths of his eyes. That same constant war waging in his mind. I can tell it was wearing him down. "I don't know," he admits. "But we'll figure it out."
After a moment we kept walking, then gradually, we began to talk. About the past, about the things we lost, about the people we've become. The fear, regret, and the impossible weight of loving someone you're supposed to hate. It's not easy. Some of it hurts so much I can barely breathe.
As we walked I could see this quiet vulnerability in the depths of his eyes whenever I looked over at him. Whatever was running through his mind was making his body tense again, that easiness was gone. “What’s going on in that mind mind of yours?” I asked softly, my fingers moving to lace through his. Chris didn't answer right away so I pressed on, “You forget..we still know one another really well. I can see it—that thing eating you alive. I can see it.”
Chris’s voice drops like he’s scared the ocean might overhear. “I’m… I’m trying not to show it,” he admits, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the grey water like it’s the only thing keeping him steady. “But inside I’m losing my mind, Y/n. With you—” he swallows, and the sound is rough, almost embarrassed by how much he feels. “I want you safe, I want you mine, and I hate that those two things don’t always look the same. And with the guys… I keep waiting for the moment they decide I’ve finally gone too far. Like they’ll look at me and see I’m choosing you and they’ll walk. Even after everything I’ve done for them, even after everything we’ve bled through together.”
He finally turns to me then, and there’s something raw in his face, like the truth is scraping him open. “But I realized something today,” he says, voice breaking just a little. “Even if they did leave… it still wouldn’t be enough to make me give you up. I can’t. I won’t.” My throat tightens, and I step closer until my shoulder brushes his arm, grounding him.
“They’re not leaving you,” I tell him, steady as I can be, because I can feel how hard he’s shaking under his skin. “They love you too much to do that—even Hyunjin. They might be pissed, yeah, they might say shit they don’t mean, but they’re not going to abandon the one person who dragged them out of the mud when nobody else would. You’ve all survived too much together for them to turn their backs on you now.”
This seemed to settle the chaos under his skin just a little, but I could still see it in his eyes. We kept talking as we circle back toward the house. By then something had shifted between us. Something fundamental and irreversible. We're not the same people we were five years ago. But just maybe we can be something new.
Not wanting to go back to my cage of a room end up in the gym with Chris. He mentions needing to grab something, and I follow him without thinking. The space is all dark wood and mirrors, weights and punching bags and mats covering the floor. It smells like sweat, leather, and something distinctly masculine.
But then I notice it—a literal armory on the other side of the gym. A gun case full of black weapons. A wall full of sharp, glinting knives, and a few other things that look dangerous but I have no clue what they are.
My feet move before my brain catches up. One step, then another, drawn toward the weapons like a moth to flame. The curiosity is almost magnetic, pulling me across the gym floor. My footsteps echo softly against the mats, and I'm very aware of Chris's presence somewhere behind me. I can feel his attention shift, tracking my movement.
The gun case is cold under my fingertips when I reach it. The glass is smooth and pristine. Through it, I can see the weapons arranged with military precision. Black metal, sleek, deadly, and something about it was a bit sexy to me. I've never held a gun before. Never really wanted to, but standing here, looking at them, something stirs in my chest. Power. Control. The ability to protect myself instead of always being protected…or imprisoned.
I move along the wall of knives next, my eyes tracing the different blades. Some are small and delicate, others are massive and brutal. I reach out, my hand hovering over one of the larger ones, imagining the weight of it in my palm. The balance. The potential.
Behind me, I hear Chris moving, gathering his things from the gym. His presence is palpable even from across the room, and I can feel his gaze tracking my every movement. He's watching me intently, cataloging my interest in the weapons with that sharp, analytical focus that never quite turns off. I can feel it, his gaze burning against my back.
I turn slowly, and our eyes meet across the gym. The air between us crackles with something electric. His expression is unreadable, but there's a question in his eyes. A challenge, maybe. Or a warning.
"You know," I say, trying to sound casual as I step away from the weapons, "you could teach me."
He pauses mid-movement. "Teach you what?"
"To fight." I step closer, a playful smile tugging at my lips. "You said I could learn to defend myself. Might as well start now."
Amusement flickers across his face, before he lets out a soft chuckle. That little laugh he use to do indicating he thought I was joking. "You want to learn to fight?"
"I want to be ready." I meet his eyes, and the playfulness fades into something more serious. "For when I go back."
The temperature in the room drops. Chris turns fully to face me, the bright smile on his face fading almost instantly. "You're not going back."
"Yes, I am." I cross my arms, feeling my spine straighten with defiance. "I need to help take him down, Chris. Not just for you. For me. For everything he's done—"
"No." His voice is flat, absolute. "You're not going anywhere near him."
"You don't get to decide that. Not anymore." Anger flares hot in my chest. "This is my fight too. He's my father. He used me, manipulated me, destroyed everything I—"
"And you think I'm going to let you walk back into that?" Chris takes a step toward me, his eyes blazing. "You think I'm going to send you back to him so he can use you again? So he can hurt you?"
"I'm not asking for your permission!" My voice rises, echoing off the walls. "I'm telling you. I'm going back. I'm going to help you destroy him, and you can't stop me."
"The fuck I can't." He's in front of me now, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off his skin. Chris’s face is growing red with annoyance. "You're not going back, Y/n. You forget I run things around here. Just because you’re by my side now doesn't change that. End of discussion."
"This isn't your decision to make!" I shove at his chest, and it's like pushing against a wall. "You don't own me, Chris. As much as you’d like to, you don—"
"I'm trying to protect you!" His voice raises louder than I’ve ever heard it before. It cracks, raw with a desperation he has kept to himself. "Don't you understand that? I can't lose you again. I can't send you back there knowing what he'll do if he finds out you've been helping us."
"Then don't send me back as a spy." I'm breathing hard now, my heart pounding. "Send me back as a weapon. Teach me to fight. Teach me to be dangerous. Let me be part of this instead of just a tool you use and discard."
"You're not a tool." Chris looks at me, his dark eyes turning soft at those words.
"Then stop treating me like one!" The words explode out of me, years of frustration, pain, and helplessness pouring out all at once. "Stop deciding what's best for me without asking what I want. I want to take him down, Chris. I want to make him pay for everything he's done. To you. To us. To me."
Chris stares at me, his chest heaving, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. I can see the war raging behind his eyes, the need to protect me battling against the understanding that I'm right. That this is my fight too.
"You don't know what you're asking," he says, his voice low and dangerous.
"Yes, I do. I want to be your equal, the queen next to you" I step closer, closing the distance between us until we're almost touching. "I know exactly what I'm asking. And I'm not afraid.”
"You should be." His hand comes up, fingers wrapping around my throat—not squeezing, just holding, possessive and threatening and intimate all at once. "You should be fucking terrified."
I look up at him, "I want to be your equal, not the little girl standing behind you."
Something snaps. I see it in his eyes, the moment his control breaks, the moment the anger and fear and desperate need collide into something explosive. Chris pulls me or him by my throat and his mouth crashes against mine, brutal and claiming, and I kiss him back just as fiercely. My hands fist in his hair, pulling hard, and he groans against my lips.
He walks me backward until my back hits the wall, the impact stealing my breath. His hands are everywhere, gripping my hips, sliding under my shirt, rough and demanding. I arch into him, needing more, needing everything.
"You're so fucking stubborn," he growls against my neck, his teeth scraping over my pulse point.
"And you're so fucking controlling," I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark and wild. "Tell me to stop."
"Never." I say it back breathlessly.
His hands move to my pants, yanking at the waist band with rough urgency. I do the same to his, our movements frantic and desperate. We don't bother fully undressing, there's no time, no patience. He shoves my sweatpants and underwear down just enough, and I kick them off one leg, my hands already working his zipper.
When he lifts me, my legs wrap around his waist instinctively. The wall is cold against my back, a sharp contrast to the heat of his body pressed against mine. He positions himself right where he needs to be, and then he's pushing inside me, slow and deep and devastating.
I gasp loudly, my head falling back against the wall, my mouth open. He's so deep like this, filling me completely, stretching me in a way that's almost too much. His forehead drops to my shoulder, his breath hot and ragged against my skin.
"Fuck," he breathes. "You feel so god damn good, Y/n"
He doesn't finish. Just starts to move, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, hard and deliberate. The angle is perfect, hitting something inside me that makes my vision blur. I tighten my legs around him, pulling him deeper, and he groans.
"Chris—" His name is a curse on my lips. Something dirty I would only say in the dark, beneath my sheets.
His mouth finds mine again, swallowing my moans as he sets a rhythm that's both agonizingly slow and brutally intense. Each thrust is deep, purposeful, claiming. His hands grip my hips hard enough to bruise, holding me in place as he fucks me against the wall.
I can feel everything…the stretch and burn of him inside me, the rough fabric of his pants against my inner thighs, the cool wall at my back, the heat of his breath on my neck. The sounds we're making fill the room, skin against skin, harsh breathing, broken moans and whispered curses.
"You drive me fucking insane," he growls against my ear, his hips snapping forward harder. "You know that?"
"Good," I gasp, my nails raking down his back. "You deserve it."
He laughs…actually laughs…dark and breathless, and the sound sends shivers down my spine. His lips trail down my neck, teeth grazing over my collarbone, tongue soothing the sting. Every touch is possessive, claiming, like he's trying to mark me as his in every way possible.
The tension coils tighter in my core, building with each deep thrust. I'm close and he knows it. He can feel it in the way I'm clenching around him, in the way my breathing has gone ragged and desperate.
"That's my good girl," he murmurs, his voice rough and strained. "Cum for me, baby.” I clench my walls as tight as I can around him just to torture him a little. Chris lets out a deep moan that echo’s off the empty walls of the gym, “Fucking hell."
His hand slides between us, fingers finding my clit. His callused fingers begin to rub smooth circles over my most sensitive area. “I love how wet you are for me. Only me.” and that's all it takes. I shatter, crying out his name as the orgasm crashes through me in waves. He doesn't stop, doesn't slow, just keeps fucking me through it, prolonging the pleasure until I'm trembling and gasping.
"Chris, please..” I whimper against his swollen lips.
"Be my good girl,” His voice is commanding, absolute. "Give me another one."
And impossibly, I do. The second orgasm hits even harder, stealing my breath, making my vision go white. I feel him tense, his rhythm faltering, and then he's coming too, burying himself deep as he groans my name against my neck and then the words I never thought I would hear him say slips out of his mouth, "I love you."
I can barely hear it, but it's there…
We stay like that for a long moment, both of us breathing hard, trembling, holding onto each other like we're afraid to let go. Slowly, he lowers me back to the ground, but his hands stay on my waist, steadying me. My legs are shaky, barely able to support my weight.
Chris's forehead rests against mine, his eyes closed, his breathing still uneven. One hand comes up to cup my face, thumb brushing over my cheekbone with a tenderness that makes my chest ache.
"You're killing me," he whispers, and there's so much in those three words. Frustration, affection, fear and resignation all tangled together.
I look up at him, my own breathing still ragged, and I see the conflict written all over his face. The war between wanting to protect me and understanding that I need this. That I need to be part of taking down my father, not just for Chris, but for myself.
"I will be going back to help," I say quietly, firmly. "I don't care how, but I want to help take him down."
For a long moment, he just stares at me. I can see him fighting it, see him wanting to argue, to refuse, to lock me away somewhere safe where I can't get hurt. But he also sees the determination in my eyes. The resolve.
Finally, he nods.
It's barely a movement, just a slight dip of his chin, but it's enough. It's acknowledgment. It's him letting me have agency in my own life, even though it terrifies him.
He pulls me closer, wrapping his arms around me, holding me against his chest like he's trying to absorb me into his skin. His lips press against my temple, and I feel him exhale shakily.
"You're killing me," he says again, softer this time. Almost broken.
I wrap my arms around him, holding him just as tightly. "I know."
And in that moment, pressed against each other in the aftermath of anger, passion, and desperate need, I understand something fundamental…this is what love looks like when it's been shattered and its being slowly pieced back together. It's messy, complicated,and painful. But it's real.
We're still tangled together against the wall, as we both try to catch our breath. The gym smells like sweat and sex. My sweatpants are somewhere on the floor to the side of us, my shirt pushed up over my breasts, Chris's hands still gripping my thighs like he can't quite let go yet.
His breathing is slower yet, still a bit ragged against my neck, warm puffs of air that make my skin tingle. I can feel his heart hammering against my chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my own. We're suspended in this moment, this fragile bubble of intimacy that feels too raw, too exposed…
The gym door swings open.
"Hey, Chris, I was thinking we could—oh fuck—"
Jisung's voice cuts off abruptly, strangled and high-pitched. My entire body goes rigid. Chris's grip on me tightens reflexively, and I feel him tense, his muscles turning to stone beneath my hands.
Time seems to freeze. I can't see Jisung from this angle, Chris's body is blocking my view…but I can hear him. The sharp intake of breath. The shuffle of feet as he presumably stops dead in his tracks. The mortified silence that follows.
"Shit," Jisung stammers, his voice cracking. "I…fuck…I'm sorry, I didn't…I'll just…"
I hear him spin around so fast he probably gave himself whiplash, his footsteps stumbling toward the door. My face is absolutely burning with humiliation. I bury my face against Chris's shoulder, wishing I could disappear into the wall behind me.
Chris moves immediately, his protective instincts overriding everything else. He shifts his body to shield me completely from view, one hand coming up to cradle the back of my head, pressing my face firmly against his neck. His other arm wraps around my waist as he moves carefully keeping himself between me and the door where Jisung disappeared behind.
My legs are shaking as I immediately drop into a crouch, frantically reaching for my sweatpants. My hands are trembling as I grab them from where they're crumpled near the weight bench. I can hear Jisung in the hallway, hopefully still facing away, and the sound of him clearing his throat awkwardly makes me want to die.
I yank my sweatpants on as quickly as possible, nearly falling over in my haste. Chris is adjusting himself, zipping his pants back up, tucking his shirt back in, running a hand through his disheveled hair. His jaw is clenched tight, but I catch the faintest flicker of embarrassment, though he'd never admit it.
When I'm finally decent, Chris takes my hand, his grip firm and possessive. We move toward the door together, and I keep my eyes fixed on the floor, unable to look at Jisung even though I can see him in my peripheral vision as we draw near.
We begin to pass by but Chris stops. Jisung is standing there, his back still turned, his shoulders hunched up around his ears. His neck is flushed bright red, the color creeping up to his ears. He's staring intently at the wall like it's the most fascinating thing he's ever seen.
Chris doesn't let go of my hand. Instead, he turns to face Jisung fully, and I feel the shift in his energy, from protective to predatory in an instant.
Jisung must sense it too, because he immediately blurts out, "I saw nothing." He clears his throat again, the sound strangled and uncomfortable. His eyes dart to the side, to the ceiling, to literally anywhere that isn't us. "Absolutely nothing. I wasn't even here. I don't even know what a gym is."
The corner of Chris's mouth twitches…not quite a smile, but close. His voice, when he speaks, is dark and smooth, laced with threat but somehow edged with dry humor. "Good." He pauses, letting the word hang in the air. "I would hate to have to gouge your eyes out."
Jisung's eyes widen, and he nods frantically, still refusing to look at us. "Yep. Understood. Crystal clear. Eyes? What eyes? I'm basically blind."
Chris tugs me forward, and we start walking down the hallway. I can feel Jisung's mortification radiating behind us like a physical force. As we turn the corner, I glance back just once and see him still standing there, one hand covering his face, his entire body rigid with embarrassment.
Despite everything…despite the humiliation still burning in my cheeks…I feel the tiniest smile tug at my lips.
Chris catches it and squeezes my hand. "Not a word," he mutters, but there's no real heat in it.
"Wouldn't dream of it," I whisper back.
Behind us, I hear Jisung finally move, his footsteps retreating rapidly in the opposite direction, and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing.
Copyright: do not copy, translate, repost, or edit my work in any way. If you do, I will publicly call out the violation and pursue legal action, including a DMCA takedown and cease and desist letter.
Please keep in mind that…
All pictures used belong to their rightful owners (e.g., Pinterest and RealStrayKids).
I do not condone any inappropriate attractions, actions, or thoughts towards Stray Kids in real life. This is purely fiction and is not true.
Anything written about these men is entirely fictional. It does not reflect how they act, react, or talk in real life, nor is it meant to portray them that way. Nothing written here suggests they do, say, or act these ways.
Any necessary warnings will be labeled accordingly. If anything is missed, please let me know.
How would you rank skz members most to least when it comes to dating a tall girl🫶🗣️🗣️
oooo okokok this was hard i rearranged the members multiple times so feel free to add some input in the comments lol
also just to say that the most the least likely's don't mean never or not happening, it just means... least... likely..
i feel bad when i do rankings sometimes because i'm like 'what if this is anons bias and i'm not feeding their delusions? oh god.'
most likely
han. ok listen. mummy? sorry, mummy? sorry. you can not tell me that this man would not worship a tall woman. he'd be like, fantastic, here is a list of things i can't do because i'm not as tall as you. like he'll be getting you to do random shit just cause he loves your height so much haha. like he purposely put the snacks on the top shelf and he's like "baby, i can't reach!" and you're like, "ugh, hang on" and as you're reaching up he's locked in to watching your shirt ride up too and he's like "ugh, this is the life"
changbin. lol i love my man but it's not harder to be taller than him, but i can also see him taking it as a challenge sometime like 'well i can still lift you' and you're like 'and i can reach the top shelf so who's really winning?'. at the end of the day, he's the little spoon and he's 100% okay with that. like you're like "you know i can still be the little spoon sometimes?" and in his cute little aeygo voice he's like, "nope, this is how i like it"
hyunjin. tall man x taller woman. he is such a loverboy like i can't see anything really bother him that much haha. but i can see him using you to further poke fun at his members for their height. especially if you're at the dorm with changbin and he can't reach something and instead of hyunjin doing it, he sends you LOL. i don't know, i have this vision of like walking around an art museum together and he's just admiring how beautiful you look and he definitely stays up late that night painting an image of you in front of a painting and he probably titles it something like 'goddess' or something. like your height is something comparable to heavenly images and like greek mythology. it makes sense to me that's all that matters haha
felix. again, loverboy, he wouldn't care too much about it. i don't even think he thinks about it. like, when you're at an event together and the photos are posted afterwards and everyone's like, 'why did lixie let her rock up in heels? shes so much taller?' and he's like 'what? you're not that much taller?' and then sees the photos and is like 'oh shit yeah ok... well whatever, more real estate to massage' and puts his phone away to go to you immediately cause he's more concerned that the heels looked painful than the fact that you're taller. like we love masseuse lixie, and you're tall limbs going weary? boy is in action immediately. he's obsessed with your legs. like he's always touching them.
jeongin. i can see him moving similar to han in the way he would worship you. but i also think that because you'd be taller than his members, he would use you as a threat to them. they're all like 'iyen-ah! love me!' and he's like, 'baby, go stand over them' and you just loom over them. like you know that meme of hyunjin? i think it's chan who's staring him down and hyunjin looks like he's trying not to laugh and he's all straight-faced? (i really tried to find it but i could not) that's the members at you. but i can see him constantly like pulling you down for kisses. he refuses to ask, he's just like 'c'mere' and yanks you down to him. you're like, 'you could just ask y'know?' and he's like, 'where's the fun in that?'
seungmin. ok like i can see it... but it's a blurry vision haha. like we all know that man is the farthest thing from nonchalant, big softie seungmin, but that's why i think he doesn't lean towards it? like he wants a girl he can bundle up well and keep in his lap. but i can also see him trying to do that with tall! girl, like wrapping you up in a blanket and awkwardly folding your limbs into his lap. like he spends so long trying to do it and eventually he's like, 'yeah that's good, comfy baby?' and you're like, 'not at all'. and he ends up in your lap instead. he likes to be manhandled so actually i can see it clearly now haha
chan. it feels weird to put chan so far down the list, but listen, he has big man husband provider energy. so not saying that he wouldn't date a tall girl, but i think he needs to feel like he's protecting you, and he would have trouble doing that. but i don't think he wouldn't, it would just be a lot of bickering i fear. like, "let me be the big spoon" and you're like, 'my legs are too long for that' and he's like, 'i don't care we're doing it anyway'. it's always more comfortable the other way around. i can also see him being obsessed with your legs, like constantly needing to swing them into his lap when you're just chilling on the couch. i can totally see him go full babygirl mode with a taller girl. like he would be giggling all the time. and also similar to changbin that he likes to remind you he can still lift you.
lee know. ok i love lee know, but mans is stubborn. like i fear he has a type and tries to stick to it. we all know he's a dom right? and he needs his girl to be at the right height for... things... and i fear he is similar to chan in the way that he needs a partner he can bundle up and care for. HOWEVER, i feel like he would switch up so quick for a tall! girl. like i'm picturing slow mo movie vibes, you walk into a room and everything goes silent and lee know is that "oh shit" and he spends so long trying to impress you only to find out you never reciprocated cause you heard he wouldn't date a taller girl and he's like, "i wouldn't date a taller girl, but i'd date you" and you're like, "that doesn't make sense, i am taller than you." and he's like "shut up and kiss me i can't reach". yeah.
Tags/Warnings: Heavy angst, slow burn but sped up, taken place sometime after Grace's death but not specific, pining, hardcore pining in Tommy's hardcore way, little bit of dark romance?, Tommy gets what he wants, happy ending, slight alcohol abuse, slight noncon to consensual, all legal here folks I promise, smut…?
One-Shot Summary:
It's easy to hate, simple rumors or assumptions swirling in your head until it spirals into something incomprehensible. Something that makes you believe you have every right to hate. Despite your will to forget about your childhood with the Shelby siblings, your love for Thomas, the hate isn't enough to fight against the man you once knew. Because, even with a fight, Thomas Shelby's truth is enough to make you crumble into his arms, his hold on you deep and dark—chained to his soul.
Who said he has forgotten about you?
Notes:
Heads up! The reader is loosely based around my OC for Peaky Blinders, but you're still you and I have mostly provided the details of the reader to be flexible.
Anyway, thought of this lil scenario at work today, and I was very quick to write it. Also um…there's gonna be a part 2. Maybe a 3. No more than that tho!
🎼So Easy(To Fall In Love) — Olivia Dean
Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2?
So Easy To Fall In Love | Part 1
You should have known what Polly was up to. It was obvious from the start, but you were too busy trying to escape the Shelby's to even notice. You were actually pretty content not seeing them again since before the war started. It had been years, four long years of the war, in which you spent the time worrying your little heart over the boys you grew up with. Everyone was worried for their loved ones.
And despite Thomas' promise of coming to you once he returned from the war…he never did. You spent the next six years coping with the fact they had all perished in the war, gone without a proper goodbye. Without a proper confession.
But then you saw their names in the papers. Shelby's taking over Small Heath, Birmingham. Conquering horse racing bets, owning the streets, and growing whatever business they had. That's when you knew…
They never really cared about you from the start.
It was heartbreaking. You cried and cried, not realizing that you really were alone this whole time. That the four Gypsy siblings you played in the mud with, rode horses with, and climbed trees with…were all just a force of will. Children sent to play together, so they weren't left alone in the isolated property. Forcing them to socialize and keep up appearances.
Despite how long you spent thinking they were dead, finding out they had either forgotten about you or didn't care too much hurt way more. But, as your daddy's farm girl, you steeled your heart. Toughened up to be the independent woman you were.
Your mother passed during the war from an illness, and your brother never returned from being sent off to battle. It was just you and your father, taking care of the farm that's been in your family for generations. A small business that got you by.
It was late spring, 1924, when you ran into the Shelby family for the first time since the war. Polly Gray, a woman you really couldn't ever forget, recognized you immediately in a shop, and she didn't hesitate to chat your ear off, dragging you back to the Shelby's childhood home to share some tea. If you were honest, you were desperate to get away. After what they did, ignoring your existence when you thought they were dead, you really had no intentions of ever seeing them again.
However, Polly told long stories, and you had a kind heart that your mother passed down in the genes. So, you sat there for however long, listening to her speak on and on about the Shelby siblings. What they went through, what they were up to these days, and most importantly…how much they missed you.
You couldn't bring yourself to scoff aloud at that.
"They're all married, those boys. Can you believe it?" Polly sighs, looking down at the tea cup in her hands, a cigarette pinched between her fingers. The smoke swirled into the open air of the nostalgic home. You don't smoke, but you were used to the smell from your father's ways of easing his nerves. "Well, Tommy was married," she continues slowly, flicking her gaze up at you. Her smile was gone, yet you could detect some form of mischief in her gaze. You didn't like that at all. "His wife, Grace was her name, passed nearly two months ago. Took a bullet for him. Tragic, eh?"
Being in this home, forced to speak to the Shelby siblings aunt, worried that you'll run into them if you stay any longer…its not something you're enjoying. But, you're not cruel. Hearing what happened to Thomas' wife was dreadful, horrific, even. You couldn't imagine what he went through, experiencing such a loss.
Yet, your hands tightened around the tea cup, and your brows furrowed.
"I'll come fine you, yeah? I promise."
"He's been grieving. But, not in the way most men do. He's gone…mad," Polly continues. At this point, despite the sorrow filling the tense silence, you're starting to detect some form of plan behind her words. Why was she telling you this? Why was so eager to go on and on about the lives of the Shelby's? As though they all hadn't ignored her presence this whole time.
Polly takes a quick smoke break, bringing the stick to her lips with slightly shaky wrinkled fingers, and taking a deep breath. The gray smoke swirls this way and that out of her nose as she breathes, now meeting your gaze. "And his boy, Charlie…he won't stop fussin' for his mother. Poor thing."
He has a son, too? For some odd reason, knowing Thomas had a family hurt far worse than everything else combined.
Eventually, you try to politely leave the home before the siblings arrived, really not sure if you wanted to go through the emotional turmoil of hearing their lies and whatnot. But Polly wouldn't let you go. Discretely offering her to stay for dinner, or mentioning here and there that her nephews should be coming soon, and it'd be good for them all to catch up. Which is exactly what you were afraid of.
Despite your best efforts, the door had swung open just as you were trying to head out, claiming you had a long drive back to the farm, your father waiting on you. It's true, that much Polly knew. However, John and Arthur were there right before your eyes.
"Well, I'll be damned," Arthur's tall figure behind John was the first to speak, recognizing you immediately. He says your name in his gruff tone, albeit full of fondness, as he squeezes between John and the thin hallway to give you a tight hug. "You've grown, haven't yah! Beautiful young lass, eh?"
It didn't take much longer for John to finally catch on, grinning from ear to ear in surprise, and…was that relief? He hugs you next, more gently than Arthur. They talk about how much they missed you, bringing up old stories of their childhood. Silly things she had done, and now she looks like a proper young lady. Far from it, really. You only wore proper dresses or skirts when coming to town for things.
Seeing the boys you grew up with, now men who are married and have children, or looking to raise some, surprisingly squeezed your heart in a good way. Warmth spread throughout your veins, an unconditional feeling of relief filling you. However, that will never excuse the anguish and betrayal they brought on you, and you certainly can't forgive them for it.
They don't bring it up, either. Acting as though you've all stayed in contact, never once going quiet. Oh, how you wish it were that. Your discomfort was inevitable, and you were once again eager to escape and go home. To try to forget about them and move on like you had been.
But, of course, you were too late to avoid the one Shelby sibling you had dreaded to ever meet again.
"Tommy," Polly speaks up, hope in her tone as she steps up beside you. She says your name, as though she were introducing you to a boy who could be a possible marriage candidate. "You remember her, don't you?"
The Thomas boy you once knew…was not the man who stood before you. His cold gaze, blue irises looking down at you with calculation and distrust, sends a cold shiver down your spine. He doesn't smile, doesn't look nearly as surprised as John and Arthur at your sudden appearance. He's grieving. He's gone…mad. You remember what Polly told you mere moments ago, and you can see it. No longer was there light in his eyes, but pure darkness and sorrow. He's stiff, even in his own family home—shoulders squared and on guard, like a soldier.
He moves, finally, breaking the tense silence between them all as he nonchalantly brings the lit cigarette between his fingers to his lips. He tilts his head down a little, and to the side, to meet it half way and take a puff. "Yeah," his tone is deep, deeper than you remember, and you almost flinch when his icy blue gaze meets yours once more. "I remember."
Polly shifts beside you, her hopeful smile turning into a small frown. Her brows furrow, letting a scoff leave her lips. "Well, don't be rude, Tommy. It's been a long time, hasn't it? Why don't you take her home—"
"No, no," you find the courage to speak up, chuckling awkwardly under your breath, forced smile wavering just slightly as you look between the two. "Really, it's all right. I can hop on a wagon, like I did on the way here—"
"I'll drive you." His offer, no…demand, seems to startle everyone in the room, especially you. You were absolutely sure he wasn't interested at all in doing it, given his tone and reaction to seeing you. But the words that came out of his mouth, you can tell it wasn't just an instinct of being a gentleman. He meant every word, meticulously spoken as though it were a calculated plan.
"N-No…it's really quite all right," you try again, more anxious this time. You just wanted to go home, see your father and the farm animals. They always cheer you up.
"Come on," Thomas sighs out, more or less taking a breath as he speaks. But, to you, it sounded like he was fighting his true thoughts on the matter. You watch as he turns his body sideways, stepping back close to the wall so you could get by to the exit. "Wasting daylight, eh? I'm a bit busy."
Then why offer to drive me an hour to my home? You wanted to counter with as much sass as you had. But with the other Shelby family members there, you kept quiet. Not wasting another moment in that home, you slip past Thomas and through the rest of the home to finally be out in the street. Thomas had pulled something out of his trench coat and handed it to Polly, mumbling a few words to her before you had completely left. Within a minute, he was right behind you, gesturing to his c. 1919 Ford Model T.
The drive back to your farm was...unbearably silent. Awkward in all of the wrong ways. You couldn't really tell if his hands were gripping the wheel tightly in pure irritation of taking you home, or if he was struggling to mend the bridge between you.
You really doubt he ever thought to apologize.
You both swayed from time to time, whenever he hit a pothole or swerved to avoid one on this rickety dirt rode. You instantly knew you were getting close to your family farm, the sun slowly starting to set. And…you aren't surprised that Thomas remembered the way despite how long it's been.
The engine purrs as he slows the car to a stop in front of your old farm house. Gaps between the planks of wood, paint peeling off, and the middle fo the rood slightly sunken. It was home.
Even though you were in a hurry to escape the Shelby home earlier, you find yourself just…sitting there, in Thomas' vehicle. You're home now, and you could simply exit the car without so much as a word to him. But…for some reason, you were really hoping he'd say something. Anything.
However, you were only waiting for the impossible.
"Thank you," you finally murmurs, breaking the tense silence between you. "For the ride, Tom." The nickname slipped out before you could think, nostalgia tricking your mind into reminding you of the past. But you quickly ignore it, slipping out of the car and slamming the door shut behind you.
Just as you thought, no word from him. Thomas Shelby merely nods quietly, then drives off into the sunset, back to Small Heath. And since then, hardly a sight of him, either.
I've been sitting on this for a bit but felt I was finally happy enough to post. Didn't think my first post back would be an almost one minute 'I love Hyunjin' edit but here we are lmao. Inspiration strikes where it may.
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